Chapter Text
e̶̩̺̔̒a̴̞͛t̸̤ȟ̷ͅ ̶͙͠c̶͎͂͝ã̸̝͑tches in my throat, an agonizing tightness clutching̶̢̟̣̪̎̀̾̎̆́̑͒̈́̓͝ ̵̨̞͖͇͙͇̣̖̎̔̑̒̔͛͐̾̽̇m̸̢̛͉͙̀̌̌̓̑̈́̍̀̑̆̀̊͑͝
unbearable pressure. incomprehensible streaks of color and uncolor crash togè̷̩t̶̖̀h̷̨̚e̸̠̓r̶̝̍ ̵͎̑i̶̭̋
s̴̺̠̺͚̦͛̓h̵͍͎̻͖͈̄͘̕͘ ̷͔͉̪͔̮͎̔i̸̝̲̿̑̌̂͝ͅn̴̠͆ ̸͍̯̄̆̏̎ṕ̸͍̺̫͕̩͂̏͝inpricks of pain, rolling all over like s̴͎͊t̶̻̃ã̴̘t̶̯͋i̸̛̦c̴͚͐. can't move. engulfed by an all-encompassing, unnatural chill. an overwhelming sense of immine
s̶t̷e̶ of metal. the sound of howling wind. thoughts racing. everything is cold. slipping å̸̦w̶̢͝a̶̢͑ẙ̸̮ ̷̻͝i̸͉̊
a̷̻̭̿̋t̵̘̞̾h̷̥̖ȩ̴̭̾
i̸n̸
o̴ut.
breath in,
breathe out.
I feel awful.
I lie still.
I can practically feel my mind trying to put itself back together.
I feel like I’m waking up from a terrible, lucid nightmare. A long one. Whatever it was already escaping me like a...
Well, like a nightmare.
Breathe in, breathe out. Awareness is starting to sluggishly return to my mind. Everything is cold—that’s the first thing I realize—and an intense fatigue seeps deep into my bones.
Bones that feel strange and unfamiliar, as if my mind hasn't yet managed to remember how my own skin is supposed to feel like.
Gravity tugs at my underside. I’m splayed out on the ground, face-down. The ground is soft. Cold. I slowly try to force the muscles in my hand to move. (The muscles feel wrong.)
Snow?
Face-down in the snow. I can’t stay like this. Sucking in a shaky breath, my muscles start screaming in protest as I prop myself up on an arm, trying to pick myself up like a corpse rising from the dead. Every movement a gargantuan effort. After nearly toppling over from dizziness in the process, I slowly force my eyes open, wincing at the blinding white around me.
Shakily turning myself around, it looked like I was in a clearing of some sort. Dense trees—big ones—outlined a ring around me, and between them I could make out a single path in the snow leading out to parts unknown. (I stare into the trees for a moment longer. The vegetation behind them is dense, shrouded in darkness, seemingly stretching on forever. I feel a sense of dread.)
A gust of wind picks up, sending a cutting chill through my body along with the mortal threat of hypothermia. Staying still will kill me. Gritting my teeth, I force my legs to start walking towards the path leading out of the clearing, the movement difficult, awkward, and almost alien in sensation. I look down as I stagger along and see a winter coat of sorts wrapped around my body; or at least the tattered remains of one, heavily torn up and slashed open through the front.
I pause. I'm practically covered in blood. Most of it dried.
I stare, squint, and then realize I'm also seeing a yellow, fuzz-covered stomach underneath some of the blood. Stumpy... legs, too.
Bewildered, I slowly raise my arms up in front of my face to see paws. Yellow paws on short, stubby arms. I don't recognize them. They feel wrong. There's an overwhelming feeling that this is somehow not supposed to be my body. (I can't remember what I’m meant to look like. I feel I should be a lot taller.)
I dimly start to become aware of something dragging behind me on the ground. I peek over my shoulder and see a jagged streak of yellow half-buried in the snow. I turn slightly. It moves. It twitches. I feel it twitch.
...It's a tail? I feel a dull sense of shock start to form somewhere in the corner of my mind, but it never quite pierces through the confusion clouding the rest of my brain. (Should I be shocked about having a tail?)
After a few seconds of blank staring, I prod at my stomach with my hands paws before letting them fall to my side. I don't... think I'm still bleeding. Not a lot, at least. I'm not even sure if most of the blood is mine.
What I’m sure of is that I'm lost in freezing wilderness. I have no idea what's going on. I likely have some kind of brain injury. I will most certainly end up dead if I don't make it to help soon.
I let out a nervous, breathy ghost of a chuckle.
I force a leg in front of the other.
I felt practically half-dead even before I dragged myself up to my feet the first time, and it certainly wasn't getting any easier. It was taking all of my strength just to keep myself moving at a snail's pace. The only thing I could do was force myself to breathe and focus on making the individual movements.
I force a leg in front of the other.
Leaves rustle in the low roar of the wind. Snow crunches under my steps. I try to wrap my tattered coat harder around my body in a feeble attempt to keep the chill out. It cuts right to the bone. I have no idea where I'm going, but all I know is that I have to keep myself moving, that I have to find a way out of here. I can't seem to shake the growing feeling of being watched. I hope it's just delirium.
I force a leg in front of the other. I feel weak.
This forest didn't look natural at all. I still felt lost, of course, but I don't think I was getting as lost as I should be. It was all... clearings and pathways, cleanly outlined by lines of trees, almost like rooms connected by corridors. I turn myself down another path through the snow.
I force a leg in front of— no, I need a moment to rest. I let myself fall onto my rump, wincing, aching, shifting to get my tail out from under me and forcing my head back upright to take a look at my surroundings. So much for having an obvious way forward; I found myself sitting at the entrance to yet another "room", this time with two... three... five pathways leading out. Weakly groaning, I let my eyes fall shut. I need to rest, just for a while. I sit there for some time—I don't know how long—before I slowly drag myself to my feet, moving to force myself forward again—
—only to stumble backwards, gripping at a fresh pain blossoming in a spot on my forehead. What the hell? I snap my eyes forward to stare at... a tree. I ran into a tree. That thing wasn't there before, I know that for a fact—it just... appeared in front of me. I walk myself around it, staring at it all the while. None of this feels right. I feel like I'm in danger.
(I realize the wind has stopped. It's deathly quiet.)
I slowly turn myself around. I could have sworn there were five pathways leading out of here. What's going on? I stare with confusion in my eyes, blinking—
I'm standing in front of a different clearing. Everything in front of me just changed. Shocked into stillness, I find myself holding my breath as I stare in, forcing myself not to blink. The area before me is smaller; the trees, the rocks, the very layout itself somehow rearranged.
A new stone formation simply appears, completely blocking off—no, replacing—an exit. There was no sound, no flash of light, nothing to announce what just happened.
A strong gust of wind suddenly starts to blow throughout the forest. There’s a low rumbling sound in the distance. The feeling of being watched grows into a heavy sense of dread, trickling down my spine and settling heavy in my chest. I need to get out of here now.
My breath starts to quicken as I throw a panicked glance backwards, only to see the path I came in from simply gone, replaced with the same dense line of trees that surround every other part of the forest. The rush of adrenaline starts to kick in as I throw myself towards the clearing proper, scrambling towards one of the exits at the other end. The ground abruptly begins to incline and it barely registers that I've started running on all fours, having tripped over at some point in my panicked dash.
The exit I've been running towards suddenly vanishes before my eyes, as if the space around it instantaneously collapsed. Eyes wide, I throw my head around in a desperate search for another way out, eventually spotting an opening between the trees up behind a raised ledge not too far away.
I feel the air getting colder. Running towards the remaining exit, I start to realize that it's just too high up; there isn’t a way to climb up the precipice. There's nothing for me to grab. It's at an acute angle to the ground. The sound of howling wind is getting louder. I blink and realize the exit has risen even higher up—or maybe the ground I'm standing on had sunken lower. I try to stop myself from hyperventilating as I search all around me for another way out—No, no, no. There's no way out. Panic grips me. I can barely think. I frantically start to dig at the rock face with my paws, desperately—uselessly—hoping for something, anything to give, and—
The air itself starts to press down into me. Strangling me. The pressure is growing. I start to realize that the wall I'm digging at is angling away into an obtuse, steep incline, space itself starting to warp impossibly around me. The low rumbling in the distance is getting louder. Getting closer. I leave my good fortune unquestioned and make a mad scramble up the mound towards my escape. I almost slip. My lungs burn. The opening is getting narrower. I manage to throw myself through, and out of the r̸͇͚̉o̸̧͇͋
a̶̖͔̔̊r̸̫͌̐ͅt̷͕̘̂.̴͇̀ͅ I'm surrounded by rock, as if I'm in some kind of cave. A narrow corridor stretches out an impossibly long distance before me, with no end in sight. Before I have any time to puzzle over how I got here, a powerful sense of impending doom suddenly grips my heart. It’s overwhelming. I can barely think.
Something’s here. I have to run.
I make a mad dash on four legs, the passageway in front of me distorting, stretching and shortening impossibly, incomprehensibly, winding and turning in nonsensical directions. I sprint for what feels like an eternity before a bright, white light starts to open up in the distance ahead of me. I don’t know how long I’ve been running. My entire body is aflame with fatigue and exertion, but I can’t stop. Something’s behind me. Right behind me. Not once daring to look back, I push myself into one final rush. The exit is so close, getting closer, getting closer...
The light consumes me. The world turns to white.
ȇ̴̺̗́ŗ̵̖̅e am I? Where the hell am I? Rapidly blinking, the cogs in my head turn, desperately trying to catch up with the seemingly instant change in scenery. Everything felt like a non-sequitur. Nothing made sense. I sway on my legs for a slight moment before I throw my weight forward, trying to use forward momentum to keep myself walking. I stumble. My body feels like jelly. I feel like I could collapse any moment.
I throw a look behind me. A path stretches and winds into the trees, leading upwards and in the direction of a towering range of snowy mountains.
Did I come from there?
Ahead of me, getting closer, is a spot where the ground I’m walking abruptly ends. I eventually realize it must be a ridge of some sort, overlooking a small expanse of green dotted with patches of white. The snow feels shallower beneath my paws as I feel it fade into frosted grass and dirt. The air is still chilly, but also warmer—the unnatural cold, the suffocating pressure is gone, and the sense of pure terror that engulfed me just a moment earlier starts to release its grip. The sinister chill in the wind is no more. There’s birdsong in the distance. Some of the tension leaves me, my breathing starting to slow. The world around me feels less... wrong.
Unburdened by the immediate threat and madness of whatever I just escaped, my mind drifts back towards the simple act of keeping myself moving forwards. I summarily forget how to coordinate my legs when I realize I’m on all fours, tripping over and faceplanting into the dirt. I painstakingly push myself over, lying on my back to stare at a bright blue sky, tail twitching between my legs. I can't find the strength to get up, so I just let myself lie still, staring at the clouds as they lazily float by. Shaky breath in, shaky breath out. So tired. Maybe I can just...
A faint and distant sound of movement, of indistinct speech reaches my ears.
I push an arm to the ground and try to rise to my feet. I need to get help, but I'm at my limit. My legs buckle and I fall back onto my stomach with a choked cry of pain. I barely even realize the sound came from me. I can't stop now. I somehow find the strength to slowly crawl and drag myself over to the ridge, trying to peer over, trying to find where the sounds were coming from. Scanning the trees down below, I see it.
A small open space between the trees, not too far down. Tents. Fading smoke from an extinguished fire. Wagons. Creatures of different shapes, sizes and colors, maybe a dozen of them. Some on four legs, some on two, one on.... none. I can only stare. All of them are in motion, moving all around the camp, loading bags, boxes, some of them talking to eachother in low, hushed tones. They're like... people? I blink in confusion. I feel a strange, foreign thought—an understanding?—forming in the back of my mind, almost immediately melting away into imperceptibility. Yes, of course they’re people. (But they look so... alien?)
Wait. They're packing up the camp. They're loading the wagons. They're leaving. As I try to open my mouth to desperately force out a noise—any noise—I realize that one of the creatures, a small, round-looking thing perched on a table with yellow highlights on its black-and-white body, is staring right at me. Its large eyes widen (even further) in shock. It points at me with a forearm, some kind of wingflap moving with it, as it lets out a frantic yell.
"Oh— uh, oh my god!"
More eyes turn to me. A crate crashes to the ground, dropped by one of the loaders. Shock ripples through the camp. The air starts to fill with startled murmurs, turning to shouts.
"That's…?"
"What in the..."
"Pallu's alive!?"
"How—"
"He needs help!"
"W-wait! What if he's—"
"I'm bringing him over!"
"Unpack, unpack!"
My body crashes back into the ground. I'm past my limit. I can't put any strength into my limbs. I hear rapid footfalls approaching from somewhere to my left, getting closer, stumbling to a halt right next to my prone body. I let my eyes fall shut as I feel myself leave the ground, scooped up into a pair of warm arms. The wind washes over me. The voices sound like they're getting closer and more distant at the same time. I feel completely drained. A long nap sounds good right about now.
"He's still breathing!"
"S-so much blood...!"
"In here! Bring him in here!"
My consciousness fades.
ll of smoke lingers in the air. my ears are ringing. i tighten my grip on th
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I can practically feel my mind trying to put itself back together, like I’m waking up from a terribly long slumber. There’s a vague awareness that I might have been having nightmares, but the impression is fleeting.
I’m wrapped in something soft.
Right... of course. I’m in bed.
Whatever I have for the day can wait. I have no idea what the hell happened last night, but my entire body feels like a weird, heavy, aching mess.
I should just... try to relax. A cool breeze gently circulates the room, brushing up against my face. The air is clear, pleasant, fresh.
Curiously fresh. Wait,
No, this doesn’t feel right. Lying there for a moment more, I slowly start to realize I feel something wrapped around my midsection, around my arms. Some kind of band or... strap. It’s soft enough that it’s not digging uncomfortably into my skin, but it’s certainly tight enough to restrict. The gears in my head start to turn. What...?
Vague memories slowly start to resurface. Snow and wind. Running for my life. Crawling, collapsing, crashing. After a brief moment, I realize that my recollection isn’t fading. It’s all feeling too clear to be another half-forgotten nightmare.
I slowly force my eyes open, trying to blink away the blurriness in my vision. I eventually find myself staring up at a plain wooden ceiling.
I sluggishly move to sit myself up, only to discover that the binding around my body won’t let me.
Someone’s tied me down. As if it wasn’t difficult enough to move already. I turn my head to my left, trying to see where I am. Another bed lies empty next to me, behind what looks to be a curtain divider fully retracted to leave no part of the room obscured. A door at the far wall, presumably an exit, is in full view.
Is this some kind of infirmary?
The room looks rather bare, wooden and rustic; but bathed in a warm, pleasant golden-amber light.
I turn my head the other way, towards the source of the glow. A window is cracked open, a pair of red curtains lazily dancing in the breeze. Sunset—I think it’s sunset?—filters through the swaying of green leaves outside. Just as I start to take in the peaceful scene before me, the sound of a door unlocking and creaking open startles me and draws my attention back in the other direction.
A short, orange, bipedal-looking critter strolls in, quietly humming some kind of tune to itself, about to round the other bed towards my end of the room before its eyes fall on me. It does a double-take.
We lock eyes. A stunned moment passes. I blink. It immediately turns tail and flees back out through the door, almost crashing into a bedframe in the process, slamming it shut.
Uh, was that a monkey?
...The light kind of made it look like its tail was on fire.
“He’s come to!” comes a muffled exclamation from the next room, shortly accompanied by the sound of shuffling.
Not long after, the door gently opens again. This time, a white-and-purple, spiral-horned creature—no, they don’t exactly have the eyes of an animal—enters.
“How are you feeling?” it asks in a soft tone, slowly approaching my bed as it meets me with a gentle gaze.
My eyes flicker back towards the door. More are staring at me from the next room. I think I can see the monkey from earlier in the mix, too. (Too many eyes are on me.)
They all look very tense.
“Can you speak?”
It takes me a second before I open my mouth, trying to form a sound, to voice out a reply. It’s harder than it should be.
They all look very, very tense.
A strange, high-pitched voice comes from somewhere close. “Wh- wh...at’s...”
My throat closes off and I cough, quickly trying again. I barely realize the voice is my own. “...what’s happening,” I finish, with a weak mumble.
The tension in the room suddenly drops to almost nothing, as if everyone’s let out a collective held breath.
“I’m Nurse Indeedee,” the horned one explains slowly. “You’re at the clinic in Ladres. You’re safe now.”
Nurse. Clinic. Safe. I let some of the tension leave my body. I must have been carried here at some point. This is... good, I think.
“Okay... okay...” I weakly voice, as I move to sit up again. Just as I remember that I’m tied down, the nurse quickly reaches down to undo the straps. I start to prop myself up by my arms.
I still feel weak, but at least it’s better than last time.
“I’m sorry about the restraints,” they say as they help me sit up. “Nobody’s ever walked out of what you did. We were afraid you wouldn’t wake up, or that if you did, you’d have... lost your mind.”
I take a moment to mull this over before trying to respond. What does that even mean? God, my throat feels dry. “What...”
Some water was apparently brought in while I wasn’t looking. I’m offered a cup. I gingerly take it into my paws, almost fumbling, shooting a brief glance at the now-closed door. I give a nod of thanks before taking a slow, cautious sip.
Better. I sip again.
“...what did I walk out of?” I question, the words starting to come out a bit easier.
A brief pause. “You somehow survived a Mystery Dungeon collapse. The expedition you were with found you at the edge of camp just as they were about to retreat.” I’m met with a gentle smile as I look up from my drink. “Your friends all made it out safe, thanks to you.”
I don’t understand the words I’m hearing.
“I examined you thoroughly, but... I couldn’t find any physical damage on you beyond minor scrapes and bruises.” They pause for a moment, concern written on their face. I realize that my blank stare, my non-reaction doesn’t look very encouraging. “You were out for over a day. None of us could really know what to expect, given the circumstances, but you’ll have to take it easy for a while. Just in case.”
“...huh.” I move to drink again, only to realize nothing was hitting my throat. Right, well, I feel like I had enough anyway. I offer the empty cup back.
“So... how are you feeling?”
“Like I just died,” I respond flatly. This elicits a small almost-laugh.
“Well, you’re alive now. Things could have gone so much worse.” A reassuring paw gently lies on my arm. “You are one... incredibly lucky ‘mon, Pallu.” I blink at the unfamiliar word. The name. That’s not my name.
“Now, we should—”
A sudden commotion of voices from the next room over interrupts us.
“Where is he!? Where’s—”
“N-Nurse Indeedee’s with him! ...No, wait, stop! You can’t go in yet!”
“Looks like they found out,” the nurse comments with a tint of amusement. They withdraw towards the window, reaching up to pull it closed. “You should stay in here for the night, dear. We can get started on getting you up and moving again tomorrow. Right now though, I think your teammates want to see you again.”
They head back towards the door. As they reach to open it, they pause, turning back to me.
“You’ve been through a lot, but... everything’s going to be okay now. You’re among friends.”
I’m... not quite sure of that, but I’ll take the help. I squint my eyes shut, quietly trying to process everything that’s happened so far.
Something about teammates?
The quiet doesn’t last. Frantic footfalls and the sound of the door swinging open again reaches my ears, and I allow myself a moment’s pause before I look once more.
Two strangers stand at the entrance. An orange-furred, ambiguously weasel... otter-looking fellow with a yellow ring around its neck, and a tan-colored quadruped with green covering parts of its body, ears shaped like tattered leaves. They stare at me with wide eyes, expressions tear-brimmed, filled and overflowing with what looks like... shock, disbelief, relief. Joy.
...What?
“I-I... I...” chokes out the one in orange, voice quavering as they quickly stumble in, the other following close behind. “I thought— I thought you... were...”
He pauses in front of me, shaking with barely-suppressed emotion. With no warning, he throws himself at up at me and envelops me in a tight embrace. I can only sit there, silent, tense, as he starts openly sobbing into my fur.
I feel utterly confused and more than a bit alarmed. I don’t know what to do. (When did I start referring to it as a “he”?)
“You’re... you’re okay,” comes a quiet voice from next to me. I feel the mattress tilt, then a warmth press into my back. I eventually realize the second stranger is gently nuzzling into me from behind. “Don’t... leave us like that again. Please.”
I feel profoundly uncomfortable.
I’m at a loss for words, certainly at a loss for actions, as I simply sit still and take it. I don’t know any of these people. I’m... pretty sure I don’t. I think the nurse said these were my “teammates” (of what team?), but I can only feel like I’m caught in the middle of some kind of massive mistake. Mistaken identity, or something. The idea of trying to play along forms, unbidden, in the back of my mind, but I instantly banish the thought. At this moment, I simply have no idea what’s going on. I barely even know what I know, or what I don’t know. It’s only going to get worse if I let myself get swept up.
...But then again, they seem terribly emotional right now. I don’t remember ever seeing this much raw emotion in one room. It’s kind of intense. Dizzying. It’s enough to snuff out any thoughts of speaking up.
So I sit there, in awkward silence, for what feels like a long, long time.
“...where were you?”
The voice comes from the weasel, raw and weak. It takes me a second to realize he’s asking me. He’s still holding me so very tight. (I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him.)
“Someplace cold.” My response is quiet, terse, inadequate. I feel overwhelmed; What am I supposed to say? “Real cold.”
He sniffles, slowly loosening his hold. He sits up, holding one of my arms in his paws. Staring right into my eyes. I can’t hold his gaze.
“Y-yeah. Of... of course.” He lets out a small laugh. He almost sounds delirious.
“We thought we lost you,” comes another voice. The other stranger moves to sit next to me. “I just— I can’t—” She stammers, trying to find the words. “I can hardly believe it. That you’re just... here, after everything that happened.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” The low whisper leaves my throat before I can stop myself. They both look at me, confused. I freeze.
Everything’s out of control. There’s never going to be a right moment to speak up; I just need to do it. (A small part of me questions why I’m having so much trouble with this.)
“I, uh... I’m sorry, but,” I swallow, looking down, “I don’t recognize any of you.”
“He what!?”
The Leafeon nervously paws at the matted floor. “I mean, I thought it was— I thought it was just shock, you know? He only just woke up after... going through whatever insanity happens in a collapsed Dungeon. Anyone’d go quiet after that.”
Lilien was dizzy. Tired. Emotionally spent. Despite the utter madness of the past few days, none in the room could sleep easy. Or maybe because of it. She didn’t really know.
There’s just too much to think about.
Team Springstep clearly felt the same, since they kindly offered to keep her and Faysel company this late at night. They were good ‘mon, probably the team that hers got along with closest, and also the only other one to stay behind with them in Ladres.
“It was too good to be true,” comments the Raboot sitting against the wall. He fidgets with one of his ears. “Walking out of all that unscathed.”
“W-well, he did look plenty scathed when we found him...” notes the Chespin next to him with a wince, “...which was, uh, pretty weird considering the lack of actual injury the nurse found, but...” He didn’t have to say the rest. They all knew that what happened back there meant things just wouldn’t make sense.
The Emolga across from Lilien squints her eyes shut, letting her head fall into her paws. “Gosh, augh...”
Eri. She tries not to think about what would have happened if she didn’t spot Pallu up on that ledge.
Lilien lets out a sigh. “What a mess,” the grass-type mutters ruefully, her eyes drifting over to her Buizel partner in the corner. Poor Faysel. He was inconsolable after they escaped the disaster. Thinking his best friend gone, then finding out he was impossibly alive, only to discover that he couldn’t even recognize him, well...
No wonder he looks so utterly exhausted. She scoots closer to him. He nestles up against her, but is otherwise silent, reddened eyes staring into the distance.
“We never should’ve gone on this expedition,” she murmurs. “Then again... it’s not like anyone could have seen any of this coming.”
“It’s the worst it’s ever been, I think.”
“Our luck?”
“I hope it’s just our luck. The MDs were always bad enough to begin with, but the idea of all of them getting this screwed up?...”
“That—that’s a terrible thought, Eri.”
“Just conjecture.”
“...It’s not all bad, though, I mean... the fact that the Pikachu’s even in that clinic right now? Awake? Impossibly good luck, right?”
“To say the least...”
“Arceus, he always was a crazy one.”
“Look, I’m... really sorry to ask, but that is Pallu, right?”
“...whaddya mean?”
“He is.” Everyone’s eyes turn to Faysel, who’s been quiet the entire night until now. “I know that’s him.”
The room is silent.
“He just... needs some time.” Despite everything, there’s still a tinge of steely resilience deep in his eyes. He always was a strong one, Lilien muses, when it came down to it. “And some help. To remember.”
That reminds her... “If the going gets tough, maybe a psychic could help, too. That’s what Indie mentioned, anyway. She... wasn’t sure.”
“That’s an option?” Eri blinks, then nods. “We’d need a good one. A real good one. Maybe we can ask back at the guild.”
“Speaking of which, aren’t you guys going to head back tomorrow?”
“Ah... maybe not tomorrow,” comes a sheepish reply. “I think this team needs a bit of time off after... all that. This is a nice enough town.”
The Chespin pipes up. “I don’t— don’t think I want to go diving into any more dungeons. Not for a little while.”
“Yeah, Miklo’s right.”
The conversation carries on for a good while longer, and the heavy tension in the air gradually starts to ease up, if not fade. Springstep eventually retires to their own room in the inn, leaving the pair to a comfortable silence, their hearts feeling just a little bit lighter.
“Hey, Lilien?” Faysel calls from his bed.
“Mm?”
“...Thanks for being here for me.”
She can’t help but smile a little.
“Any time, Fay.”
She closes her eyes, and lets herself start to drift off. Things will get better tomorrow. She hopes.
Bright, mellow moonlight shines through the window onto the Pikachu’s face.
That could have gone better.
Or... maybe it couldn’t have. It’s hard to tell. Maybe he did all he could in a bad situation; that’s what he tries to tell himself, anyway.
His eyes turn, sitting up on the infirmary bed, towards a clear and vibrant night sky. The sight is a foreign one to him, but it’s beautiful and relaxing all the same. A long-overdue calm and quiet after the proverbial storm.
Or perhaps before another.
He finds himself alone with his thoughts. Restless. Plagued with worry. Unable to bring himself to fall back asleep.
So he sits and stares, sleepless, with eyes wide open.