Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.
So, this is by far my favorite chapter, mostly due to the fact that a lot of conflicting personalities are finally going to be unleashed, and hey, who doesn't love dramatic tension? I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!
Never give up,
Never give in,
For even in the darkest days,
Listen for the ringing bells,
Chasing the dawn of warm memories,
Leading you to serenity.
The mansion had retained an essence of warmth in the evening of the rescue and the following morning, movement overflowing inside the fortitude with a frenzy of delight and cordial smiles. Within, there seemingly ignited a radiance of happiness, as though a long lost friend had just recently returned from a hard fought battle, weak and weary, but just and alive all the same. Where there had been an entity of worn fortitudes the previous day, a tired researcher's emotions echoing across the foray of his impeccable manor, now there was simply a miraculous candor, a grand uplifting of spirit. Maids hustled and bustled throughout vast hallways, all going about their chores with an array of affectionate undertones, excitement lavished across the course of their veins, trailing in their springing steps. Tales, intricate stories weaved from their mouths, and only those who had been trusted to keep the entire adventure locked the details away, at least in this poignant hour. Rumors continued to flood the stream of corridors regardless, young housekeepers coming up with riveting moments of daring intrigue, dramatic elements, giggling at the prospect of dashing heroes and screeching damsels, filling in the essence of the dwelling with exonerated bliss. Those passing by a particularly silent room ventured ever closer to the vivid door, streaking by with well wishes and hushed whispers to companions before racing off to fulfill their duties of the day, casting looks back at the portal as though mystified at the mere thought of the presence contained within.
The three masterminds of the day before all sat along the long table within the dining hall's hold, and despite the length of the furniture, had all elected to stay close by, at the end closest to the vibrant sunlight. The calm atmosphere was laden across each gentleman, from Eusine, to Morty, and finally unto the dragon master, Lance. There was no heated discussion, no ferocious argument, not even one solitary, laboring moment of intrigue passed between the trio; instead the abode was cast into a silent, tranquil state of peace. Eusine would casually raise his coffee-filled mug from time to time, taking slender sips from the freshly brewed beverage, before settling it down upon a coaster without one word uttered, eyes concentrating on nothing but the open window, soaking in petulant sunlight. Morty sat across from the researcher, his candid eyes flickering over a newspaper, every so often turning the pages with little regard for the stories (especially that of the Goldeen Awards or where the best Shellder reef gardens could be found), absorbing miniscule amounts of information while his mind was occupied with other things. Lance was a few chairs down from the two, fingers prodding at idle bandages wrapped around his arms, the smell of sterile gauze and antiseptic flowing towards his nose, instigating naught but a hushed annoyance.
Amidst the humble happiness and comfortable blanket of solitude placed upon the manor, it seemed as though the three men were casually waiting, allowing specific happenings to take their course without further effort on their part. Perhaps they anticipated an awakening breath, a priceless declaration of gratitude, an overwhelming cadence of heartfelt worth, assurance that all was for a greater good.
However, they didn't believe the immaculate serenity would be broken by a fierce scream.
Enthralled along the edge of consciousness, Keiko found a delectable solace, brimming with a strange, newfound aura of hope and benevolence. There was a gentleness laden about the aura in which she was contained, a current of tranquility and peace that made a soft sigh of content mewl from her vocals. The youth felt wrapped inside a warm embrace, an established decorum of sweet felicity flowing along the rapture of her veins. Faint movements embraced her arms and legs, and the responding ache made her eyes squint in disgruntled motions, soon shunting her into a moment of blinding consciousness.
What greeted her cerulean eyes was beyond the state of surprise to her cranium. Despite her sweet dreams, the ease of peace flowing across the various images, she had been expecting the filthy cell she had been imprisoned in. She figured that chains still held her to the ground, she assumed that a diabolical figure draped in obsidian would come marching up to her any moment, slap her across the visage once more. The picture Keiko received was vastly different, corrupting her eyes in pleasurable bouts of smiling sunlight, winking decadence, and petulant delicacy. Her hands raised themselves upon their own accord, rubbing her narrowed slits as though to alleviate the wondrous image and bring her soul back to the horror of yesterday. When it didn't go away, the girl allowed herself the liberty of staring, wondering, in confused possibilities.
Instead of a prison hold, she had been given a room of precious lavender, draped in curtains of creamy ivory, streamed with assortments of various china and adorned ornaments, all expensive, all sealed with a rich exterior.
Instead of chains and rusted links binding her to a dreary expanse, she had been given a bed cloaked in white satin, fluffy pillows capable of tilting her in whatever direction she wished to slumber in.
Instead of morose, corruptible filth, she had found a clean floor, wrought with hardwood and imported rugs.
Instead of her torn and frayed clothes, the maiden found herself immersed in delicate pajamas tinged in more ivory hues, the patterns childish yet still candidly decadent.
Instead of terror lurking across a formidable cell, she was only left with a feeling of grandeur and alluring contentment.
So she did what anyone would do when placed in a strange place, confused and completely unaware of how as to how they had arrived to such a world.
She let loose a bloodcurdling cry.
By the time the three men had run up the twirling staircase, Morty cursing Eusine every few moments for the monstrous amount of steps there happened to be, the commotion had escalated to grand heights. Maids poked their heads out of rooms, clearly confused and distressed by the clamor outside various chambers, and once seeing the problem, seemingly settling to watch with enthusiasm. Butlers chose to remain in the corners of their stations, occasionally leaning their craniums out to view the spectacle with unreadable facades.
As they reached the last step, the three raised their heads, only to find a rather alarming sight. Standing upon the top of the staircase was Keiko in all her messy, bandaged glory. It was obvious to the others that she clearly hadn't looked into a mirror recently, certainly not after unleashing her battle cry, for she looked a little bit worse for wear. Around one eye was a large bruise, unmistakable by its sheer size and daunting hue. Bandages were laced along her arms, and more could be seen if she lifted the pant legs of her pajamas. There were various scratches surveying her visage, one's that Nurse Joy clearly thought plausible enough to heal on their own, the scent of antiseptic rampant. Lance, having never seen the child in an awakened state, noticed the fire in her eyes, after chuckling for a couple moments at her appearance. They seemed vibrantly alive, a noticeable difference from when she had them closed, narrowed in hesitant pain, waiting for the world to crash down along her.
The three trainers could only stare, or laugh in Lance's case, at the image before them. Keiko just looked stunned, her eyes widening a fraction as they landed on Morty and Eusine, whom she had obviously met previously. The researcher thought for a brief moment that she would cease the angry torrent hovering along her visage, and then perhaps they could all talk reasonably…
Until of course, she released the Quilava.
After regretting putting her Pokeballs on a nearby stand within her bedroom, Eusine raised his hands in some surrendering stance, while Keiko attempted to draw closer, lingering on the threshold of the first step as though to scare them off, daring them to come within her distance so that her Pokemon could singe them alive. This action prompted Morty to glide down a step of the stairs, while Lance simply narrowed his eyes in annoyance, holding his ground even as the Quilava sprayed embers from his back, clearly intent on ruining the carpet. Keiko obviously decided to grace the men the same way she had done to the Rocket leader, with nothing more than malice and intended words of hatred. One could hardly blame her defenses. She couldn't help but question and query, especially after her bouts of torture and terror while in the confines of the Rocket's hold, and all the while standing so awkwardly in her pajamas and bandages, looking so out of place in the daunting hallway of the graceful mansion. Her voice was nothing more than a demanding fixture, craving answers, resounding off of gilded chandeliers and sweetly lit candles yearning from their flames, coming across as petulant screeches that had even excited maids covering their ears.
"What the hell is going on? Why am I here?"
Eusine struggled to answer, mumbling hesitantly, perhaps thinking that the nice trainer he had met within the Burned Tower was much more than he bargained for. He could admit, quietly in the webs of his own tangible mind, that he perhaps had not thought through the consequences of bringing Keiko to his home without suitable answers placed along her ears beforehand, but with her previously unconscious state, he hadn't had much choice. His hands still remained raised in front of his chest as his voice came across the frame of stairs, not wishing to goad her into more of a disheveled onslaught.
"What do you remember of yesterday, Keiko? Perhaps it would be…yes, it would be easier to start there."
Her demeanor was altered at the simple question, her façade now spurring into vivid arrays of thought, of the torture and horror of the day before, and yet, naught other than that seemed to enter conjectured pictures. She strained, tried to reach out to formidable memories and images, but nothing came to the forefront, leaving her mind feeling vacant and alone, hovering in the dark like a lost little flame. Her voice became quieter, a sublime tone instead of a beating peal ricocheting off of walls, as though she had come upon realization of her foolish behavior.
"Just-just that I was in Team Rocket's hold."
Before Eusine even had a chance to respond to the girl's reply, Lance smirked, beckoning, inviting a fray in his battle-embellished mind as he stepped closer, advancing on the child from the top stoop. The girl had been disrespectful, and despite the fact that reasons for such activity could be laced across anyone's tongue, the master omitted such thoughts and laid the foreshadowing dominion of chaos before him and the youth. They had all risked their lives for her sake, and her shrill candor of confusion and contempt was enough to commit him to rising to her unspoken challenge.
"Well then Keiko, perhaps you wouldn't mind ceasing your spoiled brat act, getting properly dressed, and meeting us downstairs to have a proper discussion."
When Keiko's eyes settled upon the frame of the formidable dragon trainer, they couldn't help but widen in disbelief, confusion, and distant admiration. He was the embodiment of the spitting image portraying his cocky, handsome mug lined across posters in her old home, the moving picture of infamous documentaries and news stories, the real, vivid, clear Champion of the Pokemon world. Despite her urge to leap up and down in surprise at meeting one of her idols, like many fangirls would do, the echo of his words finally rang along her eardrums, and she dropped the loopy smile that had formulated across her cheeks at his sudden appearance. Did the mystic trainer call her a spoiled brat? Did he imply that she wasn't dressed appropriately? She hadn't even dressed herself in such clothing! How dare he muster these declarations towards her! Waves of emotions fluttered across her visage, from anger in regards to his words and stupid smirk, to embarrassment at the realization that someone else had clothed her and that she was truly being reprimanded by one of the most respected trainers in the realm. There was an act of distress formulating across her membrane, and soon she found herself suddenly incapable of replying in some constructive methods to justify or defend her person.
So instead of establishing a worthy retort, the youth retreated from her station, lunging for the door with an indignant huff and cheeks stained in vibrant crimson, tearing away from the scene as quickly as she had rendered it. The Quilava tore after her, steadily gracing a paw down the side of a recently slammed door, begging to be let back into the confines and away from the stares of maids, butlers, and the other three trainers.
The researcher and gym trainer stood stunned in their respective places along the stairwell, the preceding narrowing his pupils in stifled annoyance, the other candidly broken across the wayside in deep wonder. The Champion simply proceeded down the steps, a haughty smirk embracing his lips, his cranium held high as though he had won yet another all important battle.
The meeting within the living room chambers reached a state of awkwardness and confusion early on, mostly due to the girl who continued to fidget under the scrutiny of Lance's smoldering gaze, Eusine's clever guise, and Morty's welcoming grin.
Once the researcher had carefully proceeded through the chain of events that had occurred around Keiko, the start of some grand adventure, and thorough explanations of her cumbersome status, there was a strain of silence, echoing and painful along the base of the room. The child didn't move, struggling under the weight pressing down upon her, snuggling against a vibrant cushion along the couch, the three men leaning against various armchairs littered across from her. There was this insurmountable force aching across her skull, an ache not stirred by the bruises along her façade and back of her head, but of the growing dread, seizing doubt, flowing along her thoughts as soon as Eusine's words had become immortal. You are The Carillon. To be fraught with such a title, to be told that she was now of legendary stature, that she was the one destined to poise amongst the beasts of mythical tales, her mind reeled and clamored, until nothing but a stuttering magnitude spilled from her mouth, meant to display the lunacy of such proclamations.
"I'm sorry, you-you must have the wrong trainer. I'm just trying to make my way in this life, collecting badges, catching Pokemon…there is nothing special about me. I'm afraid you're horribly mistaken."
Keiko did not look upon any of the men for replies, adjusting her cooled eyes to a sanction of the delicate linen beneath her feet, while the researcher, as though prepared for this sort of denial, easily formulated words to reply in earnest.
"My dear, you are the one who is mistaken. No one else could have freed the Legendary Dogs. You have been bestowed with honor of being The Carillon, the one being who could ever touch Suicune, who would ever deserve a chance at such a prize. You are special. Why can't you convince yourself of that?"
More silence, more petulant nerves binding and tightening as the seconds and minutes passed. The girl did not look up in her waves of uncertainty, in her blanketed doubts and heavy earnest to simply leave, run, escape from the moment and never be chased down again. It was Lance, in his own bitter frustration at how the scene was getting out of hand, that uttered callous words, determined to puncture the mindset of this fragile teenager, wishing for the previously strengthened girl to awaken and realize her glory.
"Why else would Team Rocket have kidnapped you? Do honestly think for one moment that they even bother to toil in the lives of those worthless to them? They wanted you in order to control Suicune. It's simple. How thick are you-"
He was effectively cut off as he stood in a standing position, leering over her tiny frame as she motioned to her own feet, lumbering with a degree of uncertainty before turning her visage to meet his. The cool, calculating eyes of Lance found naught in her own, a bumbling fakeness, a mask contained across her pupils, even as he searched for her brief, inner fire.
"You're absolutely right. How foolish of me. Of course, it was right in front of me all along. I am The Carillon. Well, thank you for the startling revelations gentlemen. I must be off to take a brief nap, let it all sink in, you know."
Her flat, quickly accepting words caused only a narrowing of Lance's eyes, shrouded immaculately with suspicion, and the fleeting departure of her lithe stature left the room encompassed in a degree of confusion and flared chaos. The dragon master turned towards the other two men in the room with a nonchalant shrug, and upon focusing on their faces, felt the room heat with viable anger.
Eusine removed himself from his armchair within a blink of an eye, striding over to the Champion, glaring and seething, a look unsightly for one so commonly masked in an aura of calm benevolence, causing the dragon master to step back in alarm and hesitancy at the other's intimidating frame. Cutting syllables and phrases stole across Eusine's teeth and tongue, roaming towards Lance's eardrums with a solidified tone of hostility and tension. Lance half-expected arm flailing and wild movements from the charmer, yet Eusine was far too composed and temperate in his behavior, he had no need to make exaggerated gestures to get his anger across. Instead, it came with biting tones and jagged edges, meant to ensnare and trap those foolish enough to invoke his wrath.
"How dare you. We're trying to make matters better for her, trying to tell her what she is, and yet, you continue to go on screwing it up! Allow me to make a suggestion Elite Champion of the World, don't speak to her, don't make eye contact with her, in fact, don't even stay in the same room as her."
The aforementioned Champion's eyes bulged from his sockets in surprise, arms raised in front of his chest in defensive procedure as Eusine continued to advance in his direction, spitting out words like a slithering cobra, poised to strike at any moment. Lance had clearly touched a nerve, yet the warning signs clearly displayed across Eusine's visage did not urge the master to cease his proclamations, instead his flashing temper rose to new heights as he attempted to defend his previous words.
"Now listen here Eusine, I'm just trying to ensure she ceases this poor-poor pitiful me act. She has to realize her role in this world, she has to understand what is being asked of her, not being an intolerable brat. We all have responsibilities and duties in life. She can't be coddled like some pathetic infant."
Morty had to rise from his chair and block Eusine's lunge toward Lance, standing in between the two feuding males, pushing the researcher back and sending glares in Lance's direction. The latter moved several steps back as he prepared for the onslaught of Eusine's furious, hissing retort.
"Listen to yourself! Just days ago you were telling me that we shouldn't say a word to her about being The Carillon. Now you're preaching ideals about how she has to step up. She's confused, she's disoriented, and she's trying to figure out her place. She doesn't understand what's going on, and you're not making things any better, you damn hypocrite."
"Fine, let her wallow in her pity, see how well she does then."
The final torrent of taunting jeers ended with Lance, Eusine managing to shrug Morty off of him and moving towards the kitchen, straightening out his rumpled clothing, a molten glare tormenting his handsome visage. The prickly conjectures of abrasive men faltered and died, leaving the echo of silence again, before Morty spoke to the Champion, noticing his hanging head of shame, painted in regret, chiming in the woes of melancholy. Despite all this, the lecture dancing across Morty's tongue continued its binding movements.
"Stop acting like a hot-headed fool, Lance. You're not angry with Eusine, you're just frustrated by the fact that the girl doesn't think like you. Not everyone can be ready for challenges, not everyone can tackle the world with some clever smirk and come out on top. We can't keep fighting amongst each other. We're all supposed to help one another, not quarrel and bicker like children. How is anything ever going to get accomplished like this?"
If he could feel any lower than dirt as Morty continued to be the voice of reason, Lance would have been surprised. The insightful proclamations made by the gym trainer made the other sick over his pathetic attempts, glower and simmer in decreed silence, still too proud to respond that he had been in the wrong. When given no reply, Morty went onwards in his motions.
"I advise you to apologize to both of our comrades."
As soon as Keiko had reached her new bed, she collapsed onto the fixture in a fit of hysterics. Frustration, anxiety, confusion, humiliation, and fear dripped down her cheeks in the form of tears, staining her fluffy white pillow in the disdain of darker tresses. Never had she been more befuddled, more petrified, for even in the containments of Team Rocket's monstrous tomb, she could focus her thoughts on the happiness of getting out, of continuing in her previous tales. Now that she had been rescued from such a plight, she was thrust into another, one that threatened her former lifestyle, her fragile existence, plummeting her into a sea of despair. She felt captured, led into ideals by the insistent tug of a dragon master (who was nothing at all like she imagined), a charming benefactor, and a familiar gym trainer. She didn't know where the trail led, when the winding path came to a stop, or why she was even traversing down such lanes.
She was already regretting taking the venture into the Burned Tower. None of this would have happened had she not followed stupid Malcolm in there, prodding her nose into his business and ignoring her own pitfalls.
Keiko's muffled sobs drowned out the angry shouting floors below her, the quarreling men downstairs making her smother her face further into the pillow, the lapse of company detailing the room into more hollow proportions. She had spent a day on the edge of the abyss, and now that she was finally around people, Keiko felt like she was some prize, polished and shining. Her thoughts didn't cease there, feelings floating upon the charade of intruding upon encompassing finds, being summoned only when it was suitable, when her presence was necessary for some future enterprise. It made her feel sick, this dire revulsion flooding her sights, eyes narrowing together into tiny slits as more tears leaked from their core. What made her situation even worse was the fact that she didn't know what to do, thrown into the brink of ignorance and swimming in its open water, and she had the distant feeling that Lance would allow her to drown. The tension in the depths below made her all the more nauseous.
Rising from the bed, wiping tears away on a vacant sleeve and sniffling vaguely, the young trainer came to a decision. Selfish or not, she couldn't help but feel she didn't belong here. No matter what they had done for her, rescued her pathetic frame from the hazards of hell, she couldn't stay within these confines, locked away and crying the day away. The men were already distracted with themselves, the room was no doubt ready to explode with hostile movements and remarks, and so the girl tugged on a familiar Pokeball from her belt. Leaning outside her high window, she allowed the ringing echo of rumbling tones to encompass the ground below, forming into the massive rock snake that had tried so hard to rescue her before. Now the monstrous beast could finally claim that wish.
A dainty smile poked across Keiko's lips, enveloping her façade in an uncharacteristic mask, attempting to alleviate the worry that flooded across her Pokemon's own expression. She brought a finger to her mouth, signaling the serpent to remain quiet, before releasing familiar, sweet tones to the beast.
"I've got to get out of here, Rocky. Be quiet, and raise your head so I can climb out this window. We can't let them hear us, or we'll be in big trouble, okay?"
Receiving the confirmation of her instructions with the Onix's movements, his massive cranium rising to her outstretched foot now faltering outside the window, Keiko smiled once more before they made their way into the day, a fixture of rumbling vocals not heard by distracted men.
Lance's march of shame up the domineering stairs was slow and methodical, giving him time to review his rehearsed lines that would flood to the girl, half-hoping he would only have to issue a simplistic apology and that would be the end of it. In truth, he knew naught was so easy (especially with teenage girls, of all people). Reaching the top of the steps, he wandered to the familiar doorframe, wishing something would leap out to probe his thoughts and alleviate him from this strange situation. A bitter sigh flowed through his towering frame as nothing came about, leaving him to the doom of knocking on the oak structure, his hand fumbling along the wooden entrance.
When given no reply, perhaps she had sensed who it was and still remained infuriated with him, he slid his calloused hand to the knob, no longer entreating her to privacy as he opened the strong border. Confusion flickered across his eyes as he stared into a vast emptiness. There was no body across the bed, no lithe frame cowering in a corner, and when he searched, there was no youth tucked away in a closet. He advanced, stumbling about in bewilderment, before realization finally took place. She was gone, had fled while they were busy, taking her soul out of the equation of this strange masterpiece, just as she had wanted. He couldn't help but chuckle at the situation, fumbling tiredly, grasping his vocals in a raspy tenor reserved only for the thickening plume of this hazardous life.
"I liked her a lot better when she was unconscious."
Oh, what a bunch of brats (I honestly entertained myself a bit too much by writing this, as I'm sure many of you gathered). X)
I know, I know, you're probably all chastising me. After all that work by Lance, Morty, and Eusine, to just have Keiko leave safety? Egads! Well, I'm sure we all understand the mind of adolescents, and how a lot of what they do makes absolutely no sense. Besides, these characters all have their flaws, which makes writing this story all the more fun. Don't you worry, we'll have amusing/clashing reunions in the next chapter, I promise. ;D Don't hesitate to leave reviews/comments/concerns/suggestions, I'd love to hear from you.
