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The slope Kzye was built along was steep by anyone's definition. At erratic intervals, a icy wind fell from the slopes and tugged at Terry Kiran's attire as if it was trying to catch him off guard and nudge him into a tumble, but so far he'd always held against it, even if the temperature still surprises him each time it passes by. On the one hand, coming down from the mountain peaks, it shouldn't be much of one; on the other, the temperature range for katabatic winds is high and he'd be forgiven his misconceptions about those of Kzye.
His unusual travel companion's crawled into his shirt in the most literal fashion at this point, purring against his chest in what he can only presume to be a light doze. Subconsciously driven, his right hand rises occasionally, touching fingertips against the fabric cocooning the pink furball that's decided to track him for reasons he doesn't comprehend. She's from Taqnateh, he knows that much, but her companionship has been so sporadic that he can't imagine she's keeping an eye on him.
The map in his left hand flutters dangerously for a moment, flapping loudly in protest at the tug of another gale, then settles in innocent denial of any prior issue in his hand. The gym, it says, is just at the top of the slope, inside the mountain. Inside the mountain. Why the hell not, right? It's not any odder than the setup of Pyu Ivvi or Nahla City.
Mew lets out a somewhat louder purr as Terry's fingertips brush against the lump of fabric she's most recently claimed as her perch, and a hint of motion tickles against his chest as she twists slightly - perhaps waking up from her doze, if that's indeed what she was doing. For a few moments, that's the only sign of consciousness from the tiny creature, before there's another bout of motion and a small, pink feline head pops tentatively up from his neckline. She squints, scrunching up her face in the wind, ears flattening against her skull - and then the wind dies down once more, and she's surveying the area ahead.
Ooh! They're almost there! A loud purring sound emanates from the psychic pokémon, vibrating against Terry's chest. Time to visit her new favorite human. Her tail twitches erratically, curling and uncurling on itself, and she briefly nuzzles Terry's neck before retreating back into the warmth of his shirt, curling into a small ball and purring incessantly.
Having a vaguely feline creature curling against his skin is strange - he's never had a pet - but a part of him finds oddly soothing. This is, if he's not entirely losing his marbels, his last stop on this particular trip, and the notion that he's not entirely alone for it is pleasant. One thing is certain: A human travel companion wouldn't have this subtly pleasant side-effect.
There is no door on the corridor carved into the rock of the slope - it's just a dark splotch amongst the landscape that might pass as some boulder's shadow, were it not directly at the end of Kzye's main road. There's a lone house up here, too, but despite the shadow of the mountain currently eclipsing it, there's no light on inside, suggesting that its inhabitant - almost without a doubt the gym leader - is not currently within it.
With a token reverence and caution, Terry steps into the darker slab of shadows, tracing the fingertips of index finger, middle finger and thumb across his lips pensively. He remembers Peruna Hayes, of course, right along with her preference for battle under open skies, but the name on his gym leader 'shopping list' (as he sarcastically calls it) is a different one: “Keith Sirius”. It's not too surprising that out of the eight gyms, one would have changed leadership while he was thinking about what to do with his life, but it does add a nervous tinge to Terry's demeanour.
It takes him a moment to identify the 'torch' that's a way's into the corridor as a mere electronic equivalent of the same, emulating the flicker of fire for novelty's sake, not an actual open flame for pragmatic reasons - there was no need to squander precious oxygen to combustion, after all. This close to the exit it probably made little difference, but if this went on a little further…? It's an understandable decision. He's trying to remember what this place was the last time he was here, but is drawing a blank. Presumably it had always been a gym. He makes a note to ask Keith about the history and steps further in, feeling a little as if he were trespassing, oddly self-conscious.
It takes him a few minutes to reach the end of the corridor, less out of distance and distinctly more out of his own caution not to miss anything on the way - as it is, there are at least two passages off to his left, but one is firmly locked behind a door and the other at such an angle that he can't imagine it the canonical path. Some light is bleeding in from far above, but the majority of the local lighting comes from the same source as the dry heat and sulphurous tang: The Magma Chamber itself.
Keith Sirius, meanwhile, is an anticlimactic footnote to the hellish landscape, broom in hand, a Raichu literally sitting on his head, tail swaying lazily behind him like a stylised, alien ponytail, the human sweeping this side of the unusual playing field, whistling an oblivious tune with utter disregard for a coherent melody.
Once they're inside the tunnels and out of the wind, Mew clambers her way out of Terry's shirt, instead perching on his shoulder, leaning gently against the side of his head, tail curled around his shoulder, occasionally flexing in a light, impatient squeeze as they travel. About halfway down the path, she starts getting antsy and climbs onto his head instead, running her paws through his short hair, tail brushing along the back of his neck. Come on. It's not too far now. Just a few more turns and then…
Ahh, there he is. Mew makes a loud purring sound, and then in a burst of motion hops off Terry's head, flinging herself through the air, tackling Keith's arm. “Mew mew mew mew mew!” she greets excitedly, scurrying around the gymleader's chest to perch on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek, for the moment ignoring the Raichu on his head. Look Keith! I found us a present!
Terry, unfortunately, misinterprets the pokémon's enthusiasm entirely. His travel companion's a friend of this man - clearly he can't be that bad if a pokémon is quite this happy to see him. Terry's nervousness dissipates slightly, his left hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck.
“Mew!” Keith is greeting the pink-furred creature with some delight. The pokémon on his head gives a low, barely audible growl, slouching its form and coiling its tail in mild agitation. Unlike its human, it doesn't seem all that delighted by the pokémon - or perhaps what its presence implies? A moment later, its twisted around slightly and its gaze has found Terry, lingering on him silently.
“I'm happy to see you, too,” Keith is commenting, right hand on the end of the broom, left hand easing fingertips across the small creature's fragile head. Almost lazily, he drags his attention past the creature and toward the mouth of the cavern, finding Terry with a smile. “And you've brought me a visitor,” he adds. “How thoughtful of you,” he remarks, shooting a saccharine, fond glance at the psychic pokémon.
Terry breathes the softest sigh of relief - judging by first impressions, this ought to be easy. The gym leader's in a good mood, whatever chore he'll think up is bound to be easy, and then this partly self-afflicted trial could find an end. He finds it in himself to smile back at the stranger, nodding as a lead-up to a verbal greeting. “Hi.” It's a little on the meek side, but it's a word, at least? He takes two cautious steps toward the gym leader, then extends his right hand. “Keith Sirius? I'm Terry Kiran,” he introduces himself.
“Oh!” Keith regards the hand with a perplexed expression, not quite sure which of his two hands to reassign to the task, left still quite happy to pet his psychic visitor, right still holding his household implement. For a moment, he presses his lips to a thin line across the tip of his tongue, then throws a glance to the broom. His hand shifts its grip into one with two fingers, then tips the broom over theatrically - it clonks to the ground as it's discarded, and his right hand instead enthusiastically closes around Terry's proffered one. “Jagdish said you were coming,” he comments with a tone of delight. “You're the aspiring gym leader, is that right?”
Mew's tail curls happily around the gymleader's neck, positively beaming at Keith. A soft, adorable “Mew” spills from her at Keith's remark about the visitor, coupled with a knowing, mischievous smile. At least she can always count on Keith for a good time. Her head shifts lightly under his hand, and her paws wrap around his wrist, tongue darting out and playfully licking at his palm.
Terry nods in acknowledgement. “You're my last stop, if you'll pardon my vernacular,” he informs Keith, ever so slight nervous tinge still inherent to his tone. Gym leaders, for the time being, are still authority figures, regardless what Jagdish might have done to take a chunk out of the view he'd grown up with, and it's difficult not to feel like he's imposing at least a little.
“That's fantastic,” Keith comments, only to cast his glance upwards ineffectively toward Raichu. “Raichu, honey,” he addresses the pokémon. “I need my hair now.” The Raichu gives a soft sound that could be interpreted as a displeased snort, but does leap from its perch on its human's scalp, tail lashing through the air like a whip for an instant. With natural grace, it holds itself still at a distance, looking as if coiled, ready for an attack.
“Mister Kiran,” Keith addresses Terry a moment later, letting his attention find his visitor again. Terry interrupts cautiously to offer: “'Terry', please.” Keith closes his eyes briefly, nodding half in dismissal, half in acknowledgement, smile not waning in the least. “Terry,” he echoes. “I do enjoy this place for the unique scenery, but it's hardly a comfortable place to have a conversation or much of anything else.” A pause, free hand gesturing to the corridor. “Would you mind? I practically live around the corner, it's not far, I assure you.”
“Sure,” Terry comments, minimalistically, watching Mew's antics against the gym leader's shoulder and hand, a little perplexed by the degree of friendship between this superficially unrelated characters. A fresh smile creeps onto his face.
“Splendid,” Keith announces, own demeanour practically glowing. With a bright expression, he extends his free hand to pat at Terry's back between his shoulderblades as he might an old friend.
A few minutes of idle chatter later - Keith's explained that the gym, lovely as it may be, is a bit of a maintenance nightmare but has the fantastic benefit of striking fear into the hearts of any circuiter and that he's never fully understood why Hayes hadn't been an enthusiastic proponent of its use - they've reached the house just outside the gym's volcanic interior and Keith's fishing a key from his right pocket. “There we are,” he announces, voice full of glee, nudging the door open. “Come in, find a spot, make yourself comfortable. What would you like to drink?”
Oh, great, social tripwire ahoy. Terry's ideal answer to questions like that was 'nothing, thank you' as any other answer made him feel like he was being a bother, but it's a gym leader that's asking, making it doubly ambiguous. “…I'm terrible with questions like that, I'm sorry. Just water will be fine, thank you,” Terry remarks, raising both hands in a mild defensive and apologetic gesture.
“Mew,” Keith addresses the psychic pokémon. “Do we let him do that? Just water? Or is that breaking some unspoken social protocol? What do you say?” His voice is thickly lathered with a humourous tone.
✘ IN PROGRESS