DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon, Delibird is your friend
… Please do not attack me and kill me and instead enjoy this that spawned at seven in the morning in an interesting format I decided to experiment with. Strange grammar is intentional. I love you all, too! -hearts-
The blizzard is still raging harshly after the Trainer's battle. The Trainer claps her hands together in her triumphant victory, and her Blissey is still panting in exhaustion from the overuse of Hyper Beam. The Trainer walks forward slowly to her tired Pokémon and places a hand on the Blissey's bright pink, rounded head; the Pokémon eventually utters an elated cry of joy. "Bliss! Sey!" The girl smiles.
"Yes, Bliss, you did well," The Trainer praises, making her beloved friend's eyes glisten ever more in delight. She acknowledges that she would have never made it thus far if not for the very Blissey she had now been embracing and holding closely to her side. Her other Pokémon had been there, albeit her Blissey had been something more than there; she had been everywhere and anywhere at once. You only found a kind of Pokémon like that once in a lifetime, if at all. The Trainer's bright, green eyes scanned what visible parts of the landscape there were in an absentminded manner before cuddling her Blissey once more. It purred contentedly.
The defeated Trainer, a Psychic, chuckles lightly. He levitates a Poké Ball above the palm of his hand, and his face grows a both smug and undecided expression. The snow conceals everything else around the three in pure white; to walk just three feet away from your point of comfort could get you lost, no matter what you tried or how you remembered.
"You're rather used to battling by now, aren't you?" The Psychic asks, now levitating two Poké Balls in some sort of eccentric juggling show. His hands were emanating a kind of purple aura, and another eventually joined the duo of Balls dancing around each other gracefully in the air, creating a perfect trio. His voice was smooth, concentrated, and confident, even in the face of defeat; it seemed to perfectly match the manner of his flawless Poké Ball juggling.
"Yes, actually. My team and I travel everywhere," The Trainer responds, "Hence me being out here, anyway." The Trainer, after completing the sentences, pats her jovial pink-and-white partner on the head once again, who shivers only but slightly. The Blissey was never too cold or too warm. If you needed warmth, she would be there, always never too close to anything of the extreme, be it temperature or emotion or anything else harmful in large amounts, save the always-existent side of optimism. Blissey and Chansey really were correctly titled 'Happiness Pokémon', and there had never been a possible way you couldn't believe it.
"Here for the Gym Badge, I take it? That's all Snowpoint has, anyway," The Psychic remarks, Poké Balls still floating in the aura surrounding him almost like a moat.
"Ah, I don't think that's all it has, is it? I've never had weather given me this much of a challenge before, so it's a little fun." It had been truth. Once you journeyed out into unknown territory, you had to keep going. You couldn't Fly back or you'd have to start over, and you couldn't Fly anywhere you were unfamiliar with. Giving up had been an option best thrown into the Void of nonexistence.
"True that," The boy laughs a little. "There's a thing, though: the snow symbolizes more than just hardship and determination."
"Is that so? Care to enlighten me?"
"Well, do you believe in ghosts?"
The Trainer laughs almost hysterically at this point. "What? Ghosts? Are you saying there's more than just the never-ending, brutal snowstorms attacking the mountains all year?"
"Yes, that in fact. Of course, I can never prove them," The Psychic adds quickly, finally bringing the performing Poké Balls to rest, placing them in a small, yellowish bag; it was similar in design to that of the Trainer's. A Delibird's call chimed in through the plain pine and yew trees, for Berries did not even dare to touch this part of the region. The evergreens had been there to brave the frigid weather by themselves as is, and that had been how the ways of nature expressed its bounties. "… After all," He finally began again, "They're just folktales. A lot of them take place all the way on top of Mount Coronet, too. Maybe even back when humans first started to appear in the Land of the Pokémon."
"Really, now?" the Trainer says, gloved hand to her chin in an ardent sense of curiosity. Her Blissey looks up at her with a slightly puzzled expression. "Sey? Blis-sey!"
"In a minute, Bliss. You want to go back into your Quick Ball?" The Trainer looks down at the evolution of Chansey, who sags back a little and shakes her head- which also really happens to be her body, therefore she twisted her whole being as if all of it agreed with the rest of her mind. Unsurprisingly, however, the egg-shaped creature seems to want something. She isn't too vocal about it, and decides to stay that way for a while, resting her stubby arms at her sides.
"Well, they aren't too important, I suppose," continued the Psychic with a mischievous smirk forming on his lips, "except for maybe a few… ?"
"You do know that I want to hear them now, and that I must hear them now," The Trainer demands. "I have time; it's not as if I am vying for some kind of world record in the quickest of badge-collecting. I have time. I have all day." Her fervent determination starts to frighten her Blissey. She now trembles from more than just the icy, chilly winds.
"Persistent, are we? Well, then," The Psychic adjusts his stance until he is practically leaning on the yew tree next to him. How intimidating, the Trainer thinks. Everyone knows the yew is a symbol of death. She subconsciously rolls her eyes.
"I'll begin with a simpler one," The Psychic mutters eventually, and it seems all of nature around them is ready to listen with a straining intent. Even the blizzard seemed to mute somewhat…
--
There is a boy sprinting hastily through the woods. He has one hand firmly gripped to his head in an attempt to keep his loosely-tied headband from escaping into the frequency of the wind. From the headband, he is assumed to be one of those young kids who pretend to be ninjas, hiding in various places such as snow, grass, mud, even piles of volcanic ash. What he is running from isn't apparent at the moment; all that is known is the fact that he is running in an apparent panic. His legs have a hard time keeping up with each other; he's tripped twice. The snow also heavily impedes his movement.
His heavy breaths steam in the frozen air; his body experiences violent tremors in both fear and, obviously, from the weather that is threatening his well-being. His Pokémon rest in their respective Poké Balls, oblivious to the scene unraveling in the outside world of Route 217.
What is he trying to escape from, exactly? This answer to this frequent question still lies undisclosed. Likely it had just been his imagination, albeit whatever it had been had, regardless of existence, been terrifying the young soul out of his mind.
Suddenly, something blue is visible from out in the mountainous horizon. The thing is a very deep blue, a true blue, a cerulean kind of blue that is the very epitome of this being that is riding the air. Clouds around it are parting, and snow around it rages in an unusual dense form, making its shape completely incomprehensible. Nonetheless, a kind of cry seems to be emitting from this thing. Eeeeeraaaaa…
Whatever it is, the child automatically assumes that this sort of creature- if it really even is real- holds malign intentions inside of its conscious. Whether this is in actuality true or not does not matter at this point of time; all he knows to do now is run.
He is, unfortunately, only but human, and a young one at that. His stamina simply cannot hold out unlike that of maybe a Rapidash or a Dodrio. He already is close to fainting, yet his house is just within reach! He tells himself he can make it, that he didn't take his martial arts classes for nothing, that all of this had just been a nightmare and all he wanted was to be home out of the cold and into the warmth of his bed, enhanced by some warm hot chocolate…
--
"Strange blue creature, huh? It sounds familiar to me, though it's a little generic, don't you think?" The Trainer has one hand on her hip as she is analyzing the scenes that have brewed within her head. It was like a strange, alcoholic drink for her mind. The Blissey is distracted, staring at a Delibird's mating dance that was slightly visible.
"Haha, hey, you're the one who wanted to listen to them," The Psychic teases.
"I never said I was disappointed," The blue-haired girl returns. "Bliss, are you listening—Bliss!"
The Pokemon snaps to attention and looks up at her Trainer, a slightly ashamed expression on its face. She laughs in embarrassment- "Sey! Sey!"- and promptly returns to her Trainer's side.
"You know, Bliss, maybe you don't have to listen if you're too scared. Is that a Delibird you're watching?" It had been known that, around this time of year, hundreds of Delibird would flock in swarms at every known region- Kanto, Johto, Hoehn, and even, obviously, Sinnoh- up in the mountains in order to find partners. A breathtaking sight, it was, if also a little odd. Every single one of them would cry loudly in jovial cheers at the same time; it confused hikers that happened to traverse up the habitats that were home to the jolly delivery Pokémon.
The Blissey, meanwhile, nods her head after a few moments, and then jumps a little to show the Trainer that she apologizes for wandering off in the middle of the story.
"Well, if you feel that way. Also, you don't have to be sorry; you know I never get mad at you for anything and never will."
"Bliiissey!"
"All right," The Trainer eventually strays back onto the topic, "Do you wish to continue?"
"Why, certainly," The dark-haired boy replies with a flick of his finger, "Whenever you're ready!"
"Seey!"
--
A middle-aged, plump Hiker is strolling along a trail near to the peak of Mount Coronet, aimlessly minding his own business atop the steep slopes and the rare, calm weather conditions. The Diamond Dust, as most people traditionally called this type of light, powdery snow, was remarkably beautiful in these peaks of the fourth-discovered Pokémon region. He's laughing heartily, admiring the sparkling, glistening powder. He sees or hears nothing else; he has eyes and ears only for the crystals gently floating in the air.
"Eeeeeraaaaa…"
The man freezes, his conscious suddenly snapping back to the real world. His gaze slowly makes its way toward the sky, clear for the first time in the whole year, and sees a strange thing floating up past the mountains…
The Hiker blinks in befuddlement, then slowly and nervously turns around- his back to the open space- and returns back into the cavepath from whence he came…
--
"… So, you're saying this blue thing keeps appearing and scaring the crap out of everyone?" The Trainer asks suspiciously, putting a hand to her chin. "Does it still exist?" The Trainer's Blissey has gone absent-minded once again, making friends with a male Delibird who had been offering to share her food.
"Well…" The Psychic replies, "The last story I heard of it was apparently from a decade ago. I've been collecting these far and wide- even in other regions, countries and continents- albeit I have never found a story less than ten years old. Some say it might've disappeared for good, but…"
"Hmm…" The girl seems to contemplate this for a stint of time. "Think you could share me that tale before I must take my farewell? It seems to be getting late, and I would rather not get lost in sub-zero temperatures."
"Hahahah, All right. I should be going sometime soon as well… of course, I like you. I'm sure one more won't harm anything…"
--
In the very small city of Snowpoint, an elderly man is sitting inside of his comfy home. It is late now; most everyone is asleep, or at least trying to be. This man refuses to sleep tonight. Some think he may have a mild case of insomnia, while others simply call him crazy. This man doesn't care. His television is on- the channel is five, also known as the 'Jubilife Entertainment Channel.' It turns out that he is most likely suspended in the middle of anticipation and suspense in waiting for a certain show to come on. The very thought of it makes him eager to watch it and watch it now. He hasn't been up this late in a long while.
The man's bones seem to creak as he adjusts his glasses; something seems to catch his eye through the window, though he assumes he's only seeing things. The senses tend to dull through aging, after all, thus he pays no mind to it. He just continues to be entranced by the television screen, enthralled in the colorful commercials, pictures, advertisements, the works. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door; he definitely hears that. The man continues to be enticed by the TV until another knock reverberates throughout his house again. It takes a considerable amount of effort for the man to rise up from his overloved sofa and to slowly creak his way up to his door. He answers it, and a man is standing there, panting and wide-eyed.
"Y-yes?" The slightly confused elder is looking up at the unanticipated young man who doesn't speak for a few minutes.
"… You need to come see this," He eventually responds, and is pointing to the direction behind him. The older man is rather mystified. Following the youth through his doorway, he casts a look in the direction of the finger beside him and his eyes also seem to dilate as a gigantic blue aura seems to sail above the skies of the tiny, snowbound town…
"… M-magnificent…"
--
"Then," The Trainer concludes, summing up the facts, "the most common 'haunting' rumor spread about here is one of something strange and blue that emanates a piercing screech that chills bones and sends goosebumps down your spine?" Pausing, the Trainer adds, in her mind: You know too much…
"Indeed that is," The Psychic replies. "It either frightens or amazes. It's interesting, isn't it?"
"Yes…" The Trainer seems to be lost into the traveling train of thought. The Blissey eventually squeals sharply, derailing the train almost instantly. The girl gasped and looked up. It was difficult to tell through the still-raging storm, but it was getting dark, and the conditions were becoming frightfully cold. "Ah, I'm sorry. It seems to be our time to depart."
"Ah, all right. I will not try to alter you decision. I should be taking my farewell along with you; alas, it seems I must be heading in the opposite direction. Will we meet again, perhaps?" The Psychic looks strangely secure and sincere. Blissey squeaks a tiny bit.
"Perhaps," The Trainer repeats the Psychic's last word for effect. With a last wave, Trainer and Psychic part ways…
"She was a rather fun specimen… the Gift of Illusion is ever successful in a land of endless winter. Alas, ten years is long enough, no… ?"
"Blissey, I can't have you tugging so hard onto my coat, you'll slow us down!" The Trainer snaps sharply; the Blissey recoils- her Trainer hadn't done this very often, though it was to be expected in weather such as this. The Pokémon, however, does not give in- she tugs and seeming pesters as much as she was possibly capable of doing. Something was there. It isn't until almost ten minute of scolding and pressing on later that the Trainer finally realizes that her Blissey may know more than she…
"… Oh, damn…"
She spins around in a corkscrew fashion, noticing the fervent, vibrant blue that whirlwinds itself around the pair of friends. There are sparkles, and the shape of a bird- it takes a bit of thinking, in a stint of time, to make out the shape of the creature, for it is so close that the looks and behavior classify this thing as not an apparition but, in fact, a Pokémon instead. There is a long, ribbonlike tail that swirls all around the duo, and wings, and the Trainer could've sworn a she caught glistening, cerulean-tinted feather into the palm of her hand that transformed into dust and became but a thousand or a million more snowflakes in the blustering wind…
"Is that… the Legendary… Arti… ?"
Before she could confirm her theory, however- and finish her sentence along with it- the beautiful blue Pokémon vanishes into the endless, misty snow, finishing the story with a final screech of gratitude…
"Eeeeeeraaaaa…"
Trainer looks at Blissey at this point, she looking back. "Oh, Bliss… I apologize for ever doubting you. I will never do it again. Will you forgive me?"
"Sey!" The Pokémon replies, obviously an act of forgiveness through the absolutely euphoric smile of both pride and slight uncertainty- the Pokémon is still enthralled in the fascination of what has unfolded before them…
--
And, of course, after the strange encounter, Trainer and Blissey hurriedly continue their harrowing journey through the Snowpoint blizzards, the Trainer now hoping in a fervid flush of emotion that she would meet the enigmatic Psychic once again… stories of legend never had limits to the imagination of wonder.