Chapter Text
Under the cover of darkness, Warden Ingo makes his way down the mountain, traveling across the Highlands and out to the coast. Lady Sneasler travels alongside him, though her weathered warden is more than capable of clambering down the cliffs alone. The moon is little more than a crescent tonight, though the Rift looms ever-ominous over the land. Ingo wonders if he has ever seen such a thing as this Rift and the space-time distortions that have spawned since its appearance. Like any other question he has about his past, his memories yawn wide and empty.
He reaches the shore. Starlys sleep in the trees, Drifblooms and Duskulls cling to the shadows, but the Spheals are unusually awake for so late at night. They roll toward him and chirp with joy as if greeting an old friend. Even the nearby Alpha Walrein does not wish for a fight, merely lifting its head and barking once in acknowledgement before giving the Warden his due space.
"Hello, little ones." Ingo crouches to pet the Spheals on their round heads. "Are you ready for a swim tonight? I could use the company." They chirp in agreement as they nuzzle against his hand.
Lady Sneasler's attention is focused on Firepit Island off in the distance. Her claws drum along her arm. "Snea? Snease." is what most others would hear, but Ingo understands more than that. "I'll keep an eye out over here," she says. "Have a nice swim, and don't come back 'til you stop smelling sick."
Ingo bites back the practiced response about feeling fine, because in truth, he has not ventured out to the Coastlands since before the Rift appeared in the sky. The thought of being struck by the rift-lightning on an outing has terrified him, but he can no longer shake the sensation of his entire restless body feeling too small and cramped, his teeth too large for a human face.
"Are you sure you do not wish to accompany me, my lady? I recall that you were curious to see how the newly evolved Lord is doing."
"Yeah, but that twerp's got enough on his plate right now. You heard what he went through. I'm giving him some space." The snarky noble takes her place upon the rocks near a pack of nesting Sealio. "Since your gang's watching the kits, I'm going to enjoy my night off. Maybe catch some tail." She laughs in her taunting way as Ingo makes a face. "Ha! You know me better than that. I'll watch your pelt for ya', don't worry. Enjoy your swim. Tell Bascy I say hi, if he isn't swimming ragged for Arceus's new toy."
"I will relay your salutations to Lord Basculegion. And if I encounter Lord Arcanine, I will not state that you still deem him a twerp." Ingo smiles softly as he first removes his cap, setting it on his lady's head for safe keeping. "That chosen human. Do you know if they have departed this station yet?"
"Bold of you to assume I can tell most humans apart. I swear, so many of them seem to have the same faces...but if they have, I'm sure they'll show up in our Highlands soon. Someone's got to deal with El before the whole mountain blows." Even Lady Sneasler cannot hide her unease under her trademark sneer. She holds out her claws expectantly. "That's why we need you as close to top condition as you can get. So go on, take a dip. I'll be here."
"I appreciate your assistance, my lady." Ingo takes one last look around anyway, making sure there are no human eyes on him. Seems there are ever more of them, as that Galaxy Team continues to spread through the region. And from what little Ingo remembers, he needs to keep his secret hidden from as many humans as possible. Even those few currently in the know, Irida and his fellow Wardens, feels like too many.
But for now, he is safe. So as the tide closes in and wraps around his ankles, Ingo slides off his tattered black coat, gently folds it, and sets it in Lady Sneasler's claws. Then he retreats into the tides and lets the water take him. For a moment, it is far too cold for a human to stand. But then his body remembers its true form. His body shifts, body lengthening and broadening, limbs rearranging, pelt of black and brown with silver stripes blooming across his body. When he surfaces, he is not a being most would recognize as Lady Sneasler's Warden. They would, if anything, call him a Pokemon.
He is both, and at the same time he is neither. According to the old myths Calaba recited, he is a Selkie. He is a roaming creature who has been around longer than the Pearl Clan has existed, and he will outlive them all if the legends are true. And he is supposed to be one of two, the darkness to another one's light. The legends offer no hints as to why he is alone, nor do his memories. He wonders if there is still another waiting for him. He has not yet regained enough strength to search on his own.
"Safety regulations are complete!" Ingo calls, which sounds like a bellowing "choo choooo" to human ears. "I shall return shortly, my lady! Young Spheals, we are ready for departure. All aboard!"
The Spheals and a couple Sealio cheer for the company as they roll into the water after him. They swim around him, playfully nudging his scar-riddled body until he nips back, a game of keep-away played with flippers and teeth. When Ingo has had enough, he surfaces just long enough to fill his lungs with air, then he flips and dives as far down as he can manage. His entourage cannot keep up, but he does not dive for them. He feels like he is challenging someone, comparing himself to another who should be by his side.
The Selkie in white spoken of in the Pearl Clan's legends...why can't he remember the truth of those tales?
He feels the currents shift underneath him. Ingo rolls out of the way as a Pokemon almost as large as him rises from the depths. The new presence makes Ingo's fur stand on end, familiar as he may be with it by now.
"Lord Basculegion! How pleasant it is to see you this night."
"Mmm...seaborn one. It has been...some time since our last encounter." The aquatic Noble seems to speak with the voices of a thousand lost souls. "How do you fare...oh wayward Warden?"
"Fair enough, thank you. Lady Sneasler sends her regards as well. And you?"
"...Busy. Between the rise of my new counterpart...and assisting The Almighty's chosen...there has been much to do." Basculegion trails red smoke as he swims, a sharp contrast to the soft blue emanating from the mark on Ingo's chest and whiskers. "Come, let us swim awhile. We can...catch up on the goings-on between land and sea...but first, our usual challenge?"
"Indeed, if you are willing and able! Which landmark should we race to?"
"Firepit Isle. I wish...to make sure the humans who chose to camp out there...have vacated."
The Lord and the Selkie surface and reach their agreed-upon starting line. They have raced most every visit since Ingo first arrived so many years ago. Their score has remained relatively close this whole time. If he looks over his shoulder, Ingo can see his own Noble waving from the shore, cheering him on. Ingo acknowledges her with a nod as he calls out his usual pre-race mantra. "Abide by safety regulations. Everyone smile! Please stick to the agreed-upon course for this race. Aim for victory! And..all aboooooaaaaaard!"
None can keep up as the duo tear through the water, and though both beings are older than they can recall, they revel in the challenge this race grants them. For this moment, Ingo can shed all the responsibilities that have weighed him down, the aches in his body and the sharp edges of his memory that taunt him with all he's lost. He is simply striving to win.
("I like winning more than anything else!" But those words do not fit his mouth. They belong to someone else with a sharper smile and even sharper teeth.)
The match is closer than Ingo would like; he knows he has put off this swim too long, and he is far weaker than he should be. But Lord Basculegion is tired too from his frequent ventures, so Ingo wins by a whisker. "Bravo!" he cheers, spinning through the water to release excess energy and joy. "Bravo, bravo! What a stunning race! We both tried our best, and I look forward to see who emerges victorious next time. Thank you for the challenge!"
"You are always so spirited...it makes me feel ancient. Though...the legends say you are older still." Lord Basculegion blinks slowly, his equivalent of a shrug. "Not that one should put all their faith in legends..."
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Ingo asks . He swims back to Lord Basculegion's side as they circle Firepit Island, its heat settling uncomfortably across Ingo's body. He much prefers the colder climes, such as his Highlands or the Pearl Settlement up in the Icelands.
"You have seen...how humans fight over their interpretations...of the old stories. How they let fear guide them...instead of opening their hearts. It is...dangerous. Will lead...to tragedy."
"It always does," Ingo says before he can think about why. His eyes sting. His body does this often, reacting to memories his mind cannot recall. How he wishes he could recall, that his other half were here to answer all the questions buzzing about in his head. "But the clans are beginning to work together now, are they not? And they are coming together in other ways. Like your Warden and Lord Arcanine's..."
Lord Basculegion hums, discordant with his many voices, the sound soothing even as it buzzes in Ingo's skull. "Perhaps. But there is a difference...between bonds forged in strife...and those forged in peace. Will they hold strong? I...cannot say. We can...only watch."
"Maybe so. Or we can conduct them toward the proper terminal. Set them on the correct route and guide them. Remove unruly passengers that threaten the peace."
The duo pauses their conversation as they catch sight of a lone boat paddling away from Firepit Island. Three humans and their Pokemon crowd the little wooden canoe as they head for the mainland. Ingo recognizes one as a runaway from Pearl Clan. She was meant to be a Warden, but part of the test had been reacting to him in Selkie form to see if she'd be trustworthy to keep his secret. She'd panicked, left a nasty gouge in his side from her Pokemon. That hadn't been the only reason for her failure and her choice to run away from home, but it had still stung. She'd seemed such a promising child. At least she's found friends to stand with, he thinks.
"Perhaps you have a point," Lord Basculegion says as he watches the thieves escape to the shore. "Have we grown...complacent? Only protecting the humans as a reaction...instead of teaching them a proper path to tread? I wonder..." Lord Basculegion shakes his mighty head. "The future is uncertain...my seaborn friend. I cannot tell...what direction this land will grow in. If humans...will still find need for us, soon."
"We cannot anticipate the terminal called End until we reach it. Until then, we can only ride the rails and chose our crossroads carefully." Ingo wonders what he will see when that happens. How long it will take for answers to reach him. Already, he has been here so long, that Pearl Clan has confirmed that he was the same black-pelted Selkie in their legends, that he is old and ageless even without memories to back the years up. He has seen old Wardens die and new ones be born, listened to the worries and fears of young Irida as leadership was thrust upon her too-small shoulders. Even with all he has seen so far, he cannot hope to predict where it will lead.
Especially now that The Almighty is interfering with a Chosen One. It's all got to mean something, that Arceus is interfering, that Ingo is here to witness it. The question is...what?
The pair of ancient swimmers finish circling the island and head back to the shore where Lady Sneasler and Ingo's pelt awaits, talking all the while. Though Ingo is far away, he can feel his coat as if Lady Sneasler were gently laying her claws on his own bare skin. Despite her jests about sneaking off with a paramour, she dutifully watches over him, just as he looks after her and her kits. But he feels her hold tighten and the faint brush of air as she moves. Has something displaced her? He finds himself curious, for there is little that can force Lady Sneasler to move if she wishes to hold her ground. Mostly humans or Psychic types. Ingo braces himself as he approaches the beach.
It looks much the same as he left it, including the pack of Spheals rolling around, but there is one new addition upon the shore. A human. This one is androgynous, tall and lanky, with long hair the color of crisp apples and loosely tied back into a ponyta-tail, tan skin and dark eyes covered by thick spectacles. Their outfit does not match either of the clans, but also differs from the Guild or the Galaxy Team members.
Lord Basculegion hums, "Aha! It seems...that Arceus's Chosen has seen fit to spend one last night here...before returning to the clanless village."
"That is the Chosen, then? The one who fell from the sky?" Ingo pokes his head just above the waves for a better look. The Chosen is seated upon the shore, eyes darting between a playful Spheal and an open notebook, while a Crobat lurks overhead to fend off any intruders. The Alpha Walrein and its pack do not seem perturbed by the Chosen's presence, while Lady Sneasler has already made herself scarce; even at this distance, Ingo can subtly feel her claws against his second skin and knows she is keeping it safe. All Ingo has to do is hide until this human is gone, and then...
...The Chosen is sitting up straight, alert, staring right at him. He let himself get distracted! Ingo dives deep into the water, hoping they didn't look long and might mistake the sight of him for something else.
He hears the human call, "Easy there! Don't want to fight or catch ya', buddy. Just want a look. Promise."
Ingo looks to Lord Basculegion. The Noble blinks slowly again. He trusts this human well enough, but the Lord is not a Pokemon who can also take human guise the way Ingo can. That decision rests on Ingo's shoulders, and a familiar pit forms in Ingo's chest at the thought of being seen. Even without knowledge of his identity, he is still a large beast of a Pokemon. He's got teeth and claws of steel, stern eyes that glow in the night, and unlike Lord Basculegion he can chase after a human across the shore if they escape the sea. He can be quite the threat. How would the Chosen react, having already faced three Lords and Ladies engulfed in frenzy?
Something plops onto the water overhead. A berry. Pecha, specifically. A longtime favorite, and one that makes Ingo's stomach growl; he has not taken much time to eat today in order to reach the Coastlands in time, and his true form does require more food than his human guise...No! He should not be tempted into revealing himself for a mere berry! No matter how hungry he might be...
A Spheal swims up and eats the berry. Despite his best effort, Ingo's heart sinks and stomach growls. Once this human moves on, he'll have to seek out some food. Maybe he can catch an unsuspecting Octillery or Remoraid to snack on...though after that race, he's almost too hungry to move now that he's been reminded of his need for food. Almighty Sinnoh damn it all.
Another Pecha berry hits the water. Its sweet aroma wafts through the water.
...Fine. He will allow the human to look, only while he surfaces to eat. But he will keep his distance. Ingo snaps up the berry, juices bursting under sharp steel teeth, sweet like a summertime sunset. The flavor always fills him with nostalgia for times he cannot recall.
"There you go. Beautiful, ain't ya?" The Chosen has crept closer, sitting directly on the sand with an open bag next to them, quickly scribbling in their notebook as they watch the Selkie. "Alola! Haven't seen you out here before. Nocturnal? Or maybe you're just shy?"
The latter, especially with the compliment. Ingo considers diving again, but now the Spheals are rolling back out to him, as they tend to follow him around whenever he visits. They nudge him and plea for him to play again, then flock toward another expertly lobbed berry before it can hit the water. "Play with us, play with us!" "Bet we can catch them faster than you!" "We haven't seen you in so long, please...!" In the distance, Lord Basculegion's chuckle echoes through the water, but the old ghost has already swum off and left Ingo to make his own choices.
Well, fine. Ingo can entertain the Spheals--from a distance, of course!--and allow Arceus's Chosen a brief glimpse of his form. He's heard whispers of their quest to record all Pokemon, after all, so hopefully this will be enough for them and they'll leave him alone afterwards. Besides, if they'll be traveling to the Highlands soon in order to quell the frenzy of Lord Electrode, it would be in Ingo's best interest to know who he's dealing with ahead of time.
The moon drifts across the sky. Ingo goes about his evening, playing with the Spheals and drudging up a bite or two to eat, simultaneously watching the Chosen and pretending that they're not of interest to him. The Chosen keeps drawing him and talks all the while even without expecting an answer, asking aloud what this new Pokemon might like or remarking upon features they notice. The way his blue glow is reflected on the waves, the scars littering his body, his ever-present frown and how it contradicts the joy they see in his eyes.
It's been a long time since anyone has been so unafraid of him. The only other he can think of is Irida as a child, her small hands pressing salves and bandages to his wounds when he was first found, even as the adults had given him a wide berth. She'd hovered so close until he'd recovered, regardless of if he were in human guise or his true form. When the other villagers had whispered rumors around him, she'd called him Uncle and put her trust in him until everyone else had no choice but to do the same.
Early morning light casts across the ocean. The Chosen One bolts upright. "Crap. We've been out here so long, even the Komala's are waking up. ...What is a Komala, though? Adding that one to the question pile..." The Chosen tries to stand and winces, their legs as uncooperative as a newborn Stantler's. Their Crobat swoops in to catch them from falling, and then a Decidueye hops out to help the Chosen to their feet and brings them a carved wooden cane that had fallen nearby. Now steady, the Chosen faces the ocean and calls, "Thanks for modeling for me! See you around sometime, yeah? I'll bring you more Pechas, you...ah heck, I don't even know what you're called. You got a name?"
"Ingo," he answers wryly, knowing all the human will hear is a low choo. "My name is Ingo, and you're one of the strangest humans I can remember meeting."
The human tries and fails at emulating the sound, which causes them to laugh. "Well, nice to meet you too! I'm Bedlam."
Bedlam...an odd name for a human. But, given that their arrival has been followed by so much chaos, perhaps it is an apt one.
"A pleasure to meet you, Bedlam. I hope to see you again sometime."
Little does Ingo know how soon that will be.
Emmet is tired.
Emmet has been tired a verrry long time.
He paces back and forth in his too-small cell of a cave as the strange device above saps his strength. It is too high for him to reach or strike, so he can only watch its glow reflect off the surrounding icicles, taunting as the only light in this dark place. The cold used to be his ally, but it's one thing to coat his sharp teeth in frost for an Ice-type move, and another to be stuck in an endless chill with barely enough energy to move and no sky in sight. With no sun or moon, Emmet has no idea how long he has been down here. How long since he has been separated from his pelt...and his twin.
Emmet does not know what happened to Ingo after they were separated in that storm. But the older twin has not returned to rescue him, as they have saved each other from peril so many times over their long, long lives. And that can only mean one thing:
Ingo is in trouble too.
Emmet has to find him.
But first, Emmet has to get out, and this task has not been successful so far. The walls are too steep to climb, even if he uses his claws and teeth. He rarely receives visitors, at least not while he's conscious. Which is...he's not sure how often he spends asleep, actually. No idea how much time he's wasted in this place. Too much, he's sure, he's tread every train of thought to its end terminal far too many times. The rare human stops by to make sure he's not dead, but more often than not, the only interaction he gets is whenever someone bothers to feed him by dumping overripe berries and fresh Pokemon carcasses into his cell. Oh, and Blissey eggs. He's so sick of Blissey eggs, but as no one can be bothered to heal him otherwise, he forces himself to eat them anyway.
(Is anyone looking after Ingo? Is he hurt? Is he swimming himself mad in a nearby cave too, or is he detained somewhere else? Maybe another Fairy trap, like he fell into when they were young? Or something...worse?)
(Ingo isn't dead. Emmet knows that much. At least, he would, right? He would know if his twin were dead, if he were the last Selkie in all of the world, a lone Warrior who can scarcely even fight...right? Ingo wouldn't leave this world without telling him goodbye first. He wouldn't he wouldn't he...)
Focus. Panic is verrry unproductive. And Emmet doesn't have enough strength left to waste on unproductive things. He's got to find a way out of here. If those humans sapping his energy want to keep him down, they've got another thing coming.
Because this is a battle, and Emmet loves winning more than anything else. And he'll be damned if he loses here.