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They're ahead of the circuiters, that much is certain. One the way out of Ehqaj, taking an unusual detour essentially across the top of Roaring Hollow, armed with a pair of good binoculars given to him by the Pyu Ivvi gym leader, Rhaptor watched them enter the city. He's been entirely quiet about what he's looking for, and none of the conversations she's witnessed him have with gym leaders - which up to that point were Tove Zipporah and Rose Kaiki as new additions to the list - have seen him talking about any of his observations.
So far, Rhaptor's prediction that the rest of the gym leaders would not treat him with scorn seems to hold true. Tove seemed delighted to see him without even so much as a hint of wariness, Rose kept a motherly air around them both, and Yarver Bakema, while in the first instant pattern-matching to something of a slave driver, explained his fondness for the boy in an entirely believable fashion. While she can't claim she's seen stranger dynamics, it had become obvious very quickly that it was consensual - and Yarver had eased up considerably after discerning her discomfort, nudging interactions into perfectly ordinary circles.
The oddness of it's essentially forgotten by the time they're hiking toward Kzye. The strange warning Rhaptor had given her about Keith Sirius meanwhile isn't. Since Rhaptor's not brought it up on his own again, evidently unconcerned about the location himself, the topic has yet to be revived. That said, a separate topic of conversation found an awkward end; she'd asked him why he goes by Rhaptor if Dakarai is his real name, and he had politely declined her any explanation.
The area that Kzye is nestled into appears to have more in common with Mars, if someone had stopped to photoshop some dusty shrubs into a photo of it. Thorn is fairly steep here, making travel even along marked paths testing - it seems like the only way roads go is uphill. Rhaptor seems quite comfortable with the incline, evidently far more used to this kind of travel than she is - and it's about two kilometres from the edge of Kzye that they pause and sit on the rocks to have the snacks Yarver had left them with and the entire rest of their water supply, mostly for Elena's benefit.
It doesn't help that it's late afternoon and the sun's heat is swimming across the ground. Most of the way here they've been accompanied with cool, string gusts of wind nudging at their backs and helping them along, but that seems to have died down.
“You don't sunburn easily, do you?” Rhaptor asks, his eyes narrowing as if he were tempted to squeeze them shut against the bright, bleached landscape. The heat is nothing Sarchus couldn't likely help them against with a RAIN DANCE or some more direct conjuration of humidity, but it's not really the problem. It only emphasises the problem, all of Elena's limbs aching - even parts of her she could've sworn weren't even involved in walking.
Following Rhaptor's remark, Iris hesitates for a moment, then flutters up to hover between the sun and Elena, casting his shadow onto her and watching her with concern.
A few weeks ago Elena had thought she was reasonably fit. She spent a lot of time hiking in the semi-wilderness and climbing trees and didn't mind spending a day walking. Doing the circuit was going to be much the same, wasn't it? The hiking would be a little brisker and with more purpose, there would be some more gear to carry, and she could expect it to be somewhat more mentally tiring as well, but overall she should be -good- at it, right?
Apparently not. And the key difference was hills. Mostly in the form of one giant volcano of one, which was rapidly teaching her that Njoty has very little in the way of UP. It turned out that 'up' was very exhausting and involved muscle groups she'd never paid much attention to before.
“I hope not,” Elena answered, taking off her floppy white hat to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear and out of her face. Thank you Tove so very much for gifting it to her, she was totally sending the Pyu Ivvi gymleader cupcakes when next in the area. She could put icing Zubats on top of it. “I never burn much at home, but… well. Trees. These shrubs don't count.”
A meow in her ear makes her startle as the pokemon on her shoulder stirs, and then she has a lap full of very warm kitten nosing at her water bottle. “Thirsty?” Elena asks the Onca with concern as she pours a little water into her hand for it. Theoretically after raising Sarchus from an egg she should have no issues with another tiny Blood-type. In practise she'd never raised a Fire-type (after all, it was more accurate to say Roman had raised her) and every breed of pokemon was different. She was eager to ask advice from Keith on how to handle this supposedly wild animal that had decided she belonged to belonged to it now.
“I wonder sometimes if fate was so kind to give me a decent resistance to sunburn as an apology for making me unusually prone to mild heat stroke instead,” Rhaptor is narrating, even as the air above him ripples, a few syllables shy of the end of the phrase. At the 'in' of 'instead', a pink bundle of fur pops into existence two handspans above him and drops down with all fours like a falling cat and a dramatic 'Mew!' in the tone of a triumphant announcement. The 'stead' of 'instead' promptly warps into some guttural cry and his arms snap upwards and his torso shifts forward significantly as if he'd planned to roll forward in a well-guided instinct, before remembering something. “Mew! I swear, one day…!” Rhaptor's hands snap to grasp the lean creature, which predictably blinks out of appearance again, then reappears a few inches before Rhaptor's face. A rapidly moving hand seizes a hold of the creature's tail an instant after its appearance - but of course it simply blinks back out of the grip, giggling and hovering just out of reach a moment later. Rhaptor stares at it, his posture half frozen, as if carefully considering his options.
Heat stroke? That wasn't good, warm as it was. But before she could ask if Rhaptor was okay there was a flash of pink attacking and he was flinging hands into the air. Elena lurched to her feet and had enough presence of mind to curl the hand with her water bottle across her chest to catch the kitten in her lap. The palmful of liquid splashed unnoticed onto her pant leg as the Onca dug sharp little claws into her shirt (and skin).
Ouch. She's spared from deciding what to do next when Rhaptor grasps at and scolds the aptly named pink thing. Apparently they know each other? Good, because Elena isn't sure how she'd fight a Psychic - and what else could it be, Teleporting around like that - when it could blink out of the way and any move would hit Rhaptor too.
Or at least she HOPES they know each other, because he looks rather uncomfortable. The gymleader's pokemon, maybe? He'd mentioned Keith was a prankster, and this pokemon seemed to be one too. Elena squeaked slightly when the Onca decided it didn't like the height disadvantage and leapt for her boobs en route to perching on her shoulder once more. Mentally she noted she needed to get it a piece of leather or some canvas to ride on if it decided to stay with her.
“A friend of yours?” Elena asks carefully, wary of upsetting the strange pokemon.
If Rhaptor's expression was any way to judge the situation, 'frenemy' was perhaps the best category to sort this creature into. He seems unsettled, albeit evidently not in a sort of way that demands action. It's only slowly that he thaws out of his state, righting himself from the almost coiled posture from before. “By some measure,” he adds, his tone suggesting a cautious, wary reverence of the creature.
Unspoken, his mind fixed on the pokémon. 'It's not good that you're here.'
As if she picked up on the stray thought, Mew giggles, her long tail twisting and curving in some barely contained excitement - then her attention seems to drift upwards, her expression morphing into an 'oooh', perhaps slightly dreamy, perhaps distracted by a bird, and-
The world pops as if it had been a vivid hallucination contained within a balloon and drops them with a sense of skewed gravity on a gravel path between one of the roads and a house at the edge of Kzye. The psychic pokémon, not in the least disoriented by the change, twirls herself into a forward tumble, long tail faithfully dragging behind her to trace her loop. “Mew, mew, mew-mew-mew mew!” she sputters in delight, leading the way along the path.
The expression on her companion's face was not comforting. For all that this Mew was familiar, he didn't seem to think they were safe. Friendly, yes, but the circuit so far had taught her those weren't the same thing.
Abruptly the world lurches and snaps. Elena gives an undignified shriek as she catches herself and frantically looks around. Was this some sort of illusion? Were they under attack? Had the mountain shuddered? It takes a few seconds to take in the new surroundings and confirm them both real and elsewhere. TELEPORT. She's seen Mew using it, she's been told an experienced pokemon can take their trainer with them, she just never thought that one could do it with two trainers standing apart while not even touching them.
Dear gods, if that was the power level of the pokemon the Kyze gymleader had at his disposal she really did not want to fight him.
Patting herself down with one hand while prising clenched claws from her skin with the other - and now that the adrenaline was fading that really hurt, definitely needed to train that Onca on how to be gentle - Elena checked that her gear had made the transition with her. Pack, check. Dropped water bottle next to her feet, check. Belt of pokéballs, check. Rhaptor, check. Startled feline licking her blood off its paw… okay, depending on temperament that could be an issue, but check. Pomeg berry in bag if required to deal with that, thankfully check.
Time to follow the alarming pink menace, then?
A motion ripples through Rhaptor as if he had very nearly blurted out a scolding string of words against better judgement, but the tension instead leaves him as a surprisingly dignified exhale, almost masking the context it came from with its stark contrast, nudging the ruffled reaction that spawned it into implausibility. With only a brief glance down at himself and the barest hint of sagging shoulders, it appears he's used to this enough that he's not worried about his belongings - though his gaze drifts outward, watching a frustrated, left-behind Iris fluttering over to them. His left hand rises and he cards his fingers through his hair in a last homage to whatever social dynamic he was not directly addressing that had him tense just moments ago, lips briefly vanishing into a thin line, then he turns to saunter after Mew. “Appreciate the short-cut, Mew,” he say, softly.
The pink bundle of fur stops her looping halfway down the path, swerving in a playful dizziness from the prolonged circular motion, giving her head a vigorous shake. “Mew!” It's strange the pokémon would continue to say that. It's strange it would vocalise that way at all, really - it's such a crisp word that it surely must be capable of more complex vocalisation. Differently stated, it's a word it's uttering - an onomatopoeia, not some animal's natural cry. An observant mimic that had adopted a name for itself, perhaps? Or something more?
“All in one piece?” Rhaptor peers at Elena as he walks, slow in stride, contemplative in tone. There's enough legitimate concern in the question that it serves as a good reminder that there were no rules that insisted TELEPORT scoop an entire creature from one place to another. From a psychic pokémon's perspective, her torso did not necessarily need to stay attached to her hips - unless the pokémon willed it so. Unless the pokémon explicitly willed it so.
Eyes flicking from the pokémon to Rhaptor and their respective body languages, he was… upset, she thought, but not especially surprised. Annoyed, angry - and how much of that was leaving Iris behind? - but not panicked or alarmed. Unlike her, given how hard her heart was hammering. Did Mew have a habit of snatching people? Given that amount of chirpiness, probably.
She kind of wished she had a Pokédex. She'd never encountered a pokémon like this Mew before. The Psychic typing was a guess but given the fact that it had yet to touch the ground and had TELEPORTed both of them several kilometres, it was a very confident guess. Which made the connection to a fire and electricity gym a little odd but Elena vaguely recalled Cecile once mentioning a grass pokémon? Surely there was no rule saying leaders couldn't have pokémon outside their gym's theme.
Rhaptor's question pulled her from her thoughts. “In one piece, just with a few more holes,” Elena confirmed. And with a slightly damp neck, as she seemed to be getting absently groomed with a rough tongue. “Licking is fine, but I am not food,” she warned firmly. Okay, so maybe this was going to be like Sarchus all over again.
The unknown pokémon hovers by the doorbell, twisting her body into an arch, tail tip pointing downward, belly curving upward, and her forepaws reach toward but don't quite touch the wall. Her muzzle reaches toward the doorbell and she nudges it with her jaw, then rolls to the side dramatically as if it had stung and poisoned her, before catching herself out of the exaggerated motion and travelling with a curious, playful posture along arbitrary, invisible winding paths through the air as if it were currents that drove her motions. Far too quickly, she's disappeared around the corner, tailtip the last blip of pink Rhaptor and Elena can see.
Then there's a squeak, and a human chuckle, and some unintelligible spoken words, soft and full of kindness. When the source of the sounds appears, it's not through the door at all, but from around the corner - perhaps Mew had hoped to tail him unnoticed to the door in some form of now-aborted prank. Whatever it is, he's smiling radiantly toward his visitors, Mew nestled into his left arm, his right hand's fingertips running lightly through the short pink fur on her head. Her tail's wrapped itself around his left wrist. The flame-styled hair meshes with the bright orange shirt to suggest a theme; this is probably Keith Sirius.
“Oh no,” he comments exaggeratedly, a look of faux aghast concern knitting his brows together. “Mew, this is just- oh no. I see the real prank was dropping a completely novel and delightful stranger into my lap and watching me make a fool of myself.” He smiles, posture suggesting he doesn't mind at all.
He doesn't look dangerous.
But then, neither does Mew.
A moment later, he detaches his right hand from Mew and steps as close as is formally polite, extending it to Elena in particular, his gaze lingering on her, taking in her facial expression. “You're here sooner than I anticipated,” he observes, tone light, not even trying to hide the communication network that Elena's seen glimpses of before. “Especially if you've been pushing yourselves, I sincerely hope you'll accept my hospitality. Mew hasn't given you any grief, has she?” he asks, not realising how much he's cementing the wrong impression that she belongs to him. Something about the question suggests he knows fine well that she has - not that it isn't entirely obvious given Elena's body language.
So this was the next gymleader for her collection. She was feeling that the 'prankster' part had been repeatedly emphasised for good reasons. “Mew decided we were taking too long and delivered us here, which was…” Elena paused a moment searching for the best word. “Really disconcerting.”
And she was being impolite! “Hi, I'm Elena,” she introduced herself, before glancing briefly aside at Rhaptor. “Although you likely already knew that.”
“Keith Sirius,” he introduces himself, confirming her suspicions. There's something subtly strange about his manner - the lightness he has about himself is at odds with a gaze lingering ever so slightly past its welcome, in turn misplaced amongst that exaggerated air of someone who seems incapable of subtlety. “I'm sure I would have somehow managed to butcher your name if you'd made me speak it from memory,” he gestures appreciation.
Then his eyes are moving on, dragging his gaze first to the Onca as if debating welcoming it. His left arm uncurls from against his chest and he gives it a little shake, gently dislodging the psychic pokémon, his attention having wandered over to Rhaptor.
“And you,” he says, tone and manner thick with recognition. He's extended his right hand as if in greeting again - but this time when his hand is taken, the scene transforms, a swift motion yanking Rhaptor half forward, half into a spin, Keith's left arm looping around him in something that can't seem to decide whether it wants to crush his neck in a stranglehold or just give him a hug. Knuckles wander along Rhaptor's scalp even as his flustered posture struggles not to crinkle and collapse from his abruptly lopsided weight. “You,” Keith comments, ending the knuckling of his head with a flourish of his fingers. He lets go again, quick enough to seem abrupt, slow enough not to drop Rhaptor's weight like a sack of undignified potatoes.
“I understand you two are only travel companions, but I'll let you know I'm jealous already.” With a calmness that does not quite seem to befit the predatory motion from before, Keith smiles at them both. “Shade, a couch, chilled beverages? All of the above?” he offers.
And… suddenly Rhaptor is in a headlock and being wrestled with like Keith is his big brother. Which was ludicruous, they looked nothing alike, but she really wasn't sure how to respond. She should rescue him, but this was a gym leader! Elena found herself glancing around for Iris to see what the pokemon indicated and part of her brain rose an eyebrow at her seeking instructions from a bug.
Before she has to decide Keith has released her companion and was back to being creepily welcoming. Not too welcoming, just… creepy. Animated and gleeful in ways that reminded her just a little of Ahriman and that was enough to make her nervous. Not that she could SAY that. 'Hi, sorry for being twitchy, you remind me of my mum's evil Haunter' sounded a great way to upset a gym leader. Probably twice over, for calling a pokemon evil.
Hopefully the impression would go away soon. “Shade and a couch sound nice. And, um, could I maybe ask some professional advice when it's convenient? I brought toffee as bribery,” Elena asked with a smile that was only slightly uncertain.
“While that's a delightful offer, I need my teeth where they are now,” Keith comments in clear amusement, even as he gestures for them to feel free to follow him with a gentle motion of one arm. There's a warmth to his air, as if his manner sought to portray him as someone fundamentally forgiving, but given the abrupt shift only moments earlier it seems like a potentially dangerous signal to rely on. On the other hand, Rhaptor and Keith presumably knew each other well by now, and hadn't Rhaptor's statements indirectly suggested that their relationship was perhaps different?
Keith's gaze pauses just a little longer than necessary on Rhaptor as it sweeps past him - Elena's travel companion is still straightening himself out. Iris finally glides overhead, distracting Rhaptor in that one moment a glare would have been a suitable response - he raises a hand part in gesture of apology to the pokémon for disappearing, part in a gesture requesting peaceful consideration of the tense circumstance from before, and part to permit the Venomoth to grasp his fingers and use his palm as a temporary roost.
“What professional advice may I help you with?” Keith asks as he unlocks the front door. Mid-motion, Mew settles on his left shoulder with her curiosity cast outward, watching the guests, her tail curling in some unspecified flavour of excitement. She really seems to like guests - in hindsight, that would explain why they were fast-forwarded to Keith's place.
So much for gluing his teeth together. Although she was feeling that doing that while still present could be a bad idea. And he was still getting the toffee anyway; if Keith didn't want it, surely he knew someone else that may. Maybe his prankster heart could delight in gluing someone elses's teeth instead.
“It's about this Onca,” Elena answered as they followed him in. “We found her injured and hungry hiding in the roots of a Pomeg tree. Some potions fixed her leg and I've been feeding her, but I don't know what counts as a healthy weight for an Onca.” She rubbed the pokemon's head as the kitten nudged at her ear. “And she's seems to have attached herself to me, so unless she changes her mind I'd appreciate any care tips.”
The door's opened into a room that appears undecided whether to be a living room or a dining room, but more heavily leans toward former. Keith's stepped inside, left hand briefly grasping at the edge of the door as if considering to anchor himself to it, then simply opts to leave it unattended and both gestures and strides toward the furniture - a couch and a few similarly comfortable seats scattered around a low table. The table is decorated with a white, wide banner trailing off the table's narrow ends, its laced edges more like flames than webbing. A small shallow bowl with a blooming, four-pronged cactus-like plant that seems to either be cleverly arranged with some other vegetation to appear to merge with it, or itself has broad and thick dark green leaves flowing across the edge of its container, thrones at the far end of the table, accompanied by three irregularly spaced glass spheres, each embedded with a spattering of bright orange shrapnel.
A worn notebook with a ballpoint pen abused as a bookmark sits on the table near one of the seats, one of its corners unsupported. Two or three pieces of paper that might be invoices lie under it. Keith snatches notebook and papers up as he saunters along one side of the table.
“Obligatory, likely frustrating question,” he addresses Elena, turning to her, though his gaze predominantly lingers on the Onca, tone and manner far more serious than his playful manner from before would have suggested him capable of. “…given each alone is already a handful: Have you any previous prolonged experience in caring for Fire-typed and-or Blood-typed pokémon?”
The décor makes Elena think that Keith really was suited to the Fire gym. How did gyms and type biases work, anyway? Did someone become gym leader and then have to go find a team of the right type if they didn't have one already? Maybe the type shifted based on that person's pokémon, but then you'd end up with doubles. Come to think of it, she'd never heard anyone talk about how someone became a gym leader anyway. A lot of them seemed a little old fashioned, so maybe they trained an apprentice.
And unsurprisingly, talk about pokemon with a gym leader and they put on the serious business face. “I've raised a Sailrage from an egg, I've got experience with young toothy Blood pokemon. As for Fire… well, a Fire pokemon practically raised ME, but that means I've only known Roman as a mature responsible adult and not a growing bundle of energy,” Elena admitted.
A nod tips Keith's head into a slow, acknowledging motion. “In that case, I'm going to rattle off some fire-type advice for you, in hopes that I'm not telling you things you already know,” he comments, inclining his head slightly, his gaze sneaking off somewhere as if he were in his mind's eye consulting a visual snapshot of a checklist or a page in a book.
“Don't blow bubbles around your Onca, or otherwise teach it that it can do entertaining things by exhaling. Don't use it as a lighter. If it sets something on fire, calmly put out the fire and say 'No' sternly. Don't panic about it, don't yell - express displeasure, not anger. Fire-types enjoy playful sparring, and yelling and making other exciting noises is a good way to get them into the failure mode of making everything worse,” Keith explains, still with a distant, contemplative and serious expression.
“Don't physically smack them unless you want to burn your hand or whatever item you were using to smack them with - not that you should do that any pokémon, but with fire-types, it is especially ill-advised. They can and will burn your house down if you as a person frighten them sufficiently. Fear in general is a bit of a hazard, many fire-types will set something on fire to cuddle it soothingly when alarmed; as such, you will likely want to keep your Onca away from loud, sudden noises. If someone is doing fireworks, take your Onca outside - it will enjoy the show once it sees what's causing the sound.
“They love spicy foods, but you should feed it to them only sparingly, as it can in some cases interfere with their ability to keep their fire under control.” He brings up his fingers, steepling them, touching some of his fingertips against his lips for a moment. There's an audible, drawn-out inhale; then, fingertips shifting to touch the tip of his chin instead, gaze slotting into a stare at the Onca: “The fire-blood combination is potentially dangerous since you're probably dealing with a bundle of mischief that doesn't understand that your fingers need to stay attached to you. Keep an eye on your fingers. Keep an eye on any loose items.”
He tilts his head the other way, then grows a light smile and in an almost fatherly tone - stark contrast to his own mischief from earlier - asks: “I think that's all of the hazards covered. Does that help?”
A slight frown crept over Elena's face. 'Don't use it as a lighter.' She kind of did that with Roman a LOT. But Roman was fully grown and fully trained and knew to only set things on fire when specifically requested. (Mostly. Fire-types with a cold didn't count, if humans did unplanned things when they sneezed pokemon could too.)
The bits about staying calm and not yelling were familiar from Sarchus. And considering the dual typings here she supposed acting like you were in control at all times was doubly important. At least she had Sarchus to help deal with any fires. And probably to instigate trouble. Well. Very few people had ever claimed raising pokemon was easy.
“It does, thank you. If cuddling fires is soothing, does that mean using a controlled fire is a good idea if she gets distressed? Sitting near a campfire, or a lit fireplace, or somewhere safe that I've been the one to light,” Elena asked curiously.
As if to protest being described as 'a bundle of mischief', the Onca began to rub against her ear while purring and gave a credible impression of sweet innocence.
“That should help, if you can train your Onca to actually go there rather than start its own,” Keith confirms. “The usual domestication and training tricks should work for Oncas just as well as for other pokémon - you can actually get better advice about those from just about anyone that isn't me.” He watches the Onca's motions of dubious sincerity, his right hand absent-mindedly kneading at the ring finger of his left hand. “Your Onca thinks it can manipulate you.” There's an odd tone to his voice as he says that, not quite scolding, not quite neutral.
✘ IN PROGRESS