Me: Yeay, more revisions... pbbt...

Zoey: I thought revisions were supposed to be all secret and stuff, like maybe you say on that profile thingy OH I'M REVISING THE STORY but then you don't change the author notes all the time to say WHEE REVISSSSIIONSS...

Me: Nyeah. The old ones were kind of weak in comparison to me yapping at you about revisions.

Zoey: ;w; That sounds terrible.

Me: It was. It was...

Chapter 9: Collaborate and Cooperative

It is dark outside. I jolt awake, breathing heavily and clenching my small, green fingers together. I also shake like a leaf. Afraid. Remembering the harsh nightmare. I slowly blink my auburn eyes, thinking about the dreary foes of my dream. Trying to picture them gone. Never to return. I silently scream in the dark, wooden house, the yellow ringlets to my eyes covering tears from approaching. I am frightened, honestly, over the scenes littering in my mind. Not even Munna approached me, but just the sight of all else stopped me.

Slowly, I take in breaths. In such tepid dreams, it's best to calm myself first. Find a peace of mind. There are no dark beings coming to take me. Darkness can't choke me. There's not a way for leering shadows to fall on top of me and suck the air from my lungs. I am only allowing my mind to scare me. Nothing is coming... nothing is near...

Besides the apprehensive sense that imminent darkness hovers among all that nearly every being shares, nothing can kill me now. Fistfuls of hay rub against my clammy fingers tenderly, as if coaxing my tips open.

The moonlight glows coolly over my green, pale, and yellow scales, gently shimmering and coalescing upon the ridges in my stubby, gritty scales. I watch the white colors glide over me with feeble interest. Like the moon, an idea dawns upon me. If I did this, I could. I softly step through the wooden floor, and sneak out of the oak door. My fingers quietly place the door closed, flinching to each creak of the bark. Eventually, I leave the door, its opening slightly letting in the tiniest of moonlight streams. But I know Zoey will sleep peacefully.

Perhaps a walk could clear my glass-like state of comprehension. Yes; I can see a mental and physical stroll bolstering my health. It's... not been easy, adjusting to all the hustle and bustle around here. Even when I was younger had I not been in such movement-stuffed conditions. I followed my uncle about the place, and at odd intervals was Stella as well, and our weird jumble of a group rode out. Here I am now, stuck into the depths of a steadily growing team- already our seeds of Paradise have begun to bloom, this including the assortment of flowers I step past and struggle to walk through. They're vibrant and nice, and stick together like their own pack.

Like Paradise. But I need to breathe. I need to step back. I know what I told myself- joining Paradise means to knit into these pokemon. But... I can't...

Within quick succession, I find myself bumbling on a road I remember quite well- the worn path of rescue teams and creatures alike, the safest into the belly of the desert, of the belly button of Truught.

The power of a creature is imminent, practically breathing down my spine, as I recognize the Mystery Dungeon I've wound into. The canyon-like peaks stir dusty winds about my figure and choking levels of steep cliffs and spiraling cracks beckon me closer, their deafening slopes just asking for a wrong step, for a trip and a fall and a crack to signal my death.

The being hissing nearby beckons me closer as well, but in a different demeanor. A darker, heightened tone, like fog, sifts amongst me and coils in my head. Victini said she was beginning to search around the Mystery Dungeons for places in need and find a suitable way, like a copy of Truught's map, to mark where pokemon in need are, but as long as she hasn't started up her ploy, I'll be spiraling into these kinds of... troubles.

The being lumbers on, fangs snatching by my ear. I need to learn how to commune between these pokemon... I need to learn to rely on them... ahhg...

It's with a start that he wakens. He watches again as the creature stops in front of his tent. Through its green fingers slips a small accumulation of hastily-wiped hay. Hardly woken from her dreams herself, he notes. Thoughts bumbling about in his head still remain unsure why her petty little self skewers him like this, but she does, and as she does, he may as well follow her around some. He can't find harm in a slight sense of... stalking, if she wants to call it that. He doesn't particularly find that word nice, but then again, is he nice? Is he pliable for the word? Doable to mend into it?
A scoff. Probably not. Most likely not. Definite, just about. Definitely not. Through the wispy fabrics of the gray-colored tent, he can't help but stare to almost degradation as she lumbers on. Seeing this, he contemplates vanishing into the world of dreams or joining her. Unsure, he slumps into his hay-stuffed bedding and goes against choice for the time.

Repetitive, like children rearing heads, my languid emotions tie in knots and stifle others and pull at me. This obviously was not one of my greater ideas. Honestly, the best thought I've had this entire time was most indubitably the moment I decided to run into Zoey, who sent me into her team, which brought up our rescues of Paradise, and now sits inside of us as the official reasons Paradise was started. I really should try to connect with my teammates soon... Even looking at their faces lets me see just how honest and understanding they could be... if I'd let them. I need to connect to them already. I need to. It's almost interdependence to my life when I state this, but that monster's shadow is looming upon me and I've begun to respect my obvious decline in stre-

rrr...rrrrrrrrr...

This will all end in tears.

Rrrrrr-Rrrrrr... RRRRRRRR...

My heart is set on fire, adrenaline pumping at inhumane speeds that offer little to no correlation toward feverish composure. My body flattens against the moist wall as I tepidly shove myself face-first into a leering crack in the ground that offers ample protection to another floor under.

Weariness slightly tugs in my bones, but I can only feel the adrenaline coursing through me as I plan how to stop the dragon resting nearby. I may as well try instead of run off... even if no one is there to help me if I get slaughtered... eheh...

That worrying thought toils in my mind as I flit through a new hole. Corridors of the same brisk brown rub past me. My shoulders throb from the walls. I ignore the pain and continue down a new hole. More red openings. Heat intensifies. My breath flies out into the atmosphere in clumsy pants. The hot air shoves against me, humidity causing me to tire. To feel a burning sensation. I keep traveling lower. To get to the beast. I may... It would be of best intention to help whomever needs help... though I presume the rumbling roar is more toward a cry of death than help.

This is stupid. I wish the monster didn't pant so near to me. I can't escape... ah... why am I so stupid?

Vines loop out from scathed, yellow shoulders and scrabble at the shadowy fiend with enough brains to know that my strength falters within me from somewhere and the vines easily loosen up. Stupidity spitting at me, I find the need to turn and face my opponent, whose stony-green expression suggests I shouldn't have. Now I know what the ugly quadrupedal looks like when I think I preferred the looming shadow much more.

The beast gaps his incredibly large jaws out at me, a thin trail of energy leaking inside. I stand for a moment, waiting. Once the bright light has swollen, I duck to the side. The blast of hyper beam doesn't touch me. I watch the large tyranitar wobble on his large feet for a moment, glowering in my direction. He stands, recharging lost energy from the hyper beam. I'm not really sure, honestly, how to deflect from this enemy besides trusting I'll meld into the wall with a pursuit and instead receiving the butt of a burning whip. Another one. Again; again. The stings rein down on me. His tail, like a fat, useless slugma, burns down in my scales and jars my skin.

A new blast covers me; my senses, body, self thrown into blinding light. I feel scratches deepening into scars; bruises to bashing; skin to rashes. My whole self crashing into nothing. Crumbling my essence to nothing. Ashes to ashes; dust to dus-

Sharp pains splurge my shoulders and reopen the bruises and spread flying colors of paint-like substances tottering about the Mystery Dungeon's interior.

With a slight smirk to his taste, or perhaps a scowl -he doesn't really know- he steps into the little chamber he'd seen that snivy stumble into earlier. Well, judging by the scrapes and mussed scales wriggling out of place and joining the ground, he really isn't sure whether or not she agreed with this. Perchance a nearby enemy tried to clock her down.

Thoughts bite his brain. He doesn't like this clocking-her-down idea and can't even tell why. Just some snivy's corpse, right? Well, apparently not.

A weak cough stumbles out of the corridor- Llana's, no doubt. And like that, feet whistling over hard-packed earth that still continues to break of in chunks, Tim bolts into the small area and feels a whack to his stomach as he surveys the overall damage collected in the chamber. He notices the obviously high amount of blood loss, as long as that dripping, red fluid continues to remain blood, and the snarling tyranitar in the corner with the green, looming frame doesn't look all pleasant or kind and the fact that he's stuffed with blood and scales suggest this little jerk here must have been the cause of such unwrapping to the piteous, light-tinged snivy. The dark-tinged timburr makes quick haste of the fluff-brained opponent whose obvious strength is no match for someone with enough power and smarts of his own and watches the snivy quietly, an odd wash of pity bowling him over.

Such a weak little character.

Ow... My body pangs of injuries. My head throbs and fingers twitch and itch and eyes refuse to open, their swollen pits stubborn and raw and aching with every scratch.

Ow...

Once I summon the will to waken, a certain, wooden ceiling welcomes me in. I cough weakly. This of course allows a bound of raw ribs and cracked lungs to embrace each other through the form of buffeting aches that certainly don't help my pertaining condition.

I feel a sharp tap on my ribcage. A face looms in front of me. One with a pale, circular face and wide, light blue eyes. Her velvety ears droop over her face, causing wayward shadows to loom. "Ugh, stupid snivy! Like, what was that all about?"

And immediately out of my intensive state I am dragged head-over-heels unto the loudest and whiniest creature I have met so far. It's almost like Zoey hates me. I know she doesn't, but Victini's screeching continues to literally rain down on me in spit and other globs of whatever else falls from her flaming tongue. "Gawsh! Now since none of us, like, can, like heal, and we're, like, short on pokemon and no one's, like, brave enough to tell Mary about your injuries, you've gotta help me set up my map!" ...Ever since the moment Zoey forced me into joining her team, it seems as if every decision I ever receive the chance to make is forcibly taken by the horns and plowed into a direction I didn't ask for. Like right now it appears I'll be hanging around a sharp-tongued legendary.

Through her fiery lips, I'm ordered about Paradise as I sport a cramped headache and singed rear that continuously bites me back and reminds me about teamwork. As if it helps me move faster, Victini floats on above me using her odd and wayward wings just to screech at my panting figure, "What's gonna work? It's like teaaaaaaam-work, stupid! Like, gawsh, work faster, Llana!"

This actual work consists of piecing a rather large bit of log near the rather large map of Truught in the front of the Post Town and Paradise crossroads. As Victini instructs herself to carry about berries and other forms of ilk that can apparently be used as color for my little drawing, all I find myself doing, once situated, is sketching eye-to-eye with what hangs on that map and copying its contents on the bark beneath my fingers. After such act is complete, I'm required to stick these little pine needles I'd had to find earlier into the places Victini directs, showing where she'd found needs of rescue in designated Mystery Dungeon and forcibly sticking the thin, sharp tips into the sunken wood upon each Dungeon's needs. I don't stick one into Desolate Canyon after she mentions a green-scaled quadrupedal, a tyranitar, loitering about there.

Eventually, the day withers into night and our makeshift map lies completed, nailed firmly into the wall of our home in Paradise. The fiery legendary by my side alerts our few members she'll force us into submission toward her needs if the time comes... to help in search of those in help themselves.

"You must... save me... Llana..." The pastel-colored, balloon-like pokemon has once again impeded upon me. Her snout sticks into my pointed face and her eyes are thick with what appears to be glassy tears, ready to curl out of her little slits and spoil the ground below. "Please... s-save me..." she pules, like a sort of baby.

Her tears fall, but they do not hit the ground. I face earth myself, but... it's not there. Purple globs of frozen air stuff me into an overhang. Munna stands on naught but air herself. And I'm trapped into my position as she flits about, mocking and taunting me about the place. "Saaaaveeee meeeeeee, Llaaaaannaaaaaaaaa..." Tears continue to drop like seeds and plant into the earth, however far away that is... until I realize that her watery creations are built not far into the ground but slide among my icy exterior and plant themselves within my ensnarement.

Munna...

My emotions thick with fear, I snap awake to the sound of loud snoring. Outside, the sun has started to light the horizon. My heart beats quickly, mind racing and panting and needing for answers of that girl, that character, that stubborn, reappearing Munna. I promised myself I'd only tell Zoey if she showed again... and she did show, admittedly.

"Llana! Llana Llana Llana! Thank gosh you haven't woken up yet! I sure as heck bet tha-"
"Zoey... I'm having dreams..." Scary dreams. Bad dreams. Dreams chock-full of an alien species that almost seems to want to kill me more than plead of my aide.

She abruptly stops, water-soaked body landing with a soft phhhhhhhump into the hay of my bedding and allowing bits to stick at herself. "Huh..? Like what..?"
Sucking in a breath, I take the moment to digest the notions I've had about her... about Munna, and how to pour these thoughts into words that my... my friend can relate to. "She tells me she needs my help, but... she..."
"She bad juju?"
"Yes... you could call her bad juju."
Giggling, the oshawott shakes her head about clearly, the white fur sticking with hay. "Agh, this is really fun to talk with you about stuff, even if it's bad juju. Hehehehaha... never heard you say such a silly word!" The young Zoey races from her spot on the floor and tackles my burnt and wasted, underwhelming body. "Yay! Oh. But... uh... can we... like... look out for her, then? Look out... for Munna the munna?"
It's all I can do but think... and know... well... "Perchance. It may be our only way to pursue the thoughts railing at me..."
"Okay, great!" A squiggly and otherwise silly smile terminates her features.

The wooden door props open, a floppy wet hand holding it out. A fiery face pops into the scene, her light blue eyes sparkling with questions. "Like, hey~!" She seems to rather enjoy my company. "Zoey, like go away! Llana and I wanna talk about, like, girl stuff!"
"But I'm a girl!" she wails in succession, blue tail tromping about angrily.

"I like don't care!"
Their voices continue to travel and snap at my ears until the pokemon decide to spend their time jabbering, even if unconsciously, and force me into their yelling mash of vocals.

An icy shriek dominates his sight as he flings himself out of the gray tent and splatters himself under the dark-lit night sky, panting heavily. Visions permeate in his sight, dominating all other senses and tromping about his head, crushing his sense of will.

"Let GO, STELLA!" yowls the larger and furthermore icy being.
She remains keen to not move- the fluffy one. "You can't! This is hard-packed protocol, Kyurem! The Bittercold's a monstrosity that will surely take you over! You can not let this STAND!"
"It's furthermore danger if you stay! You'd die, evermore surely, fluffy one!"
"Stop this nonsense! Stop! Stop this!"
He easily recognizes the fluffy one's retort in succession to Llana's, how similar their voices speak in his head. As well as this fact, he notes how thinned and stressed each of the celestial characters feel. It's like both entities are blocks of cold, hard ice ramming into his mind all at once. Why... is this effecting him..?

This creature, a yellow-splashed biped dusted with pink features, is labeled a mienfoo. The small thought is enough for me to register in this moment.

The door to my wooden house flies open, and behind it is in fact, a pair of fighting types. One being a mienfoo; her light yellow face blushing towards me. "Hey there, Llana! Zoey. Zoey! Stop looking at me like that! Is it weird to wrap your arm around your girlfriend or something?"
The oshawott falls flat on her white-furred face, accidentally bruising herself. "Wh...wh..." Zoey splutters, unable to fit in an actual response. "GIRLFRIEND?"

"Yeah! I have a girlfriend!" The brown-furred timburr blinks slowly. "Oop. Guess I forgot to tell ya. Heheh. Well this here is Mina. And she's like the best pokemon in all time, because who else would ever be good enough to date me, eh?"

"I can't believe I'm friends with someone that has a girlfriend."

"Shut up, Zoey. She's awesome." Burr sticks his brown face in the air and winks out at me. "See, Llana gets it! Well, either way, she said- wait. You're right here." One arm draped about her yellow-splashed backside, he beams out at the mienfoo.

Mina takes this as a moment so speak. "Um... I'm... Mina. And..." Her gaze wavers on me for a moment, then her sunny yellow paw suddenly drags Burr's neck and head toward her lips and she loudly kisses him. "Don't get any ideas."

My face blurts into color. What was that supposed to mean!

"Sorry, guys. She's a real glitzy smart-bum." As the... well... lovey dovey duo take their leave, I catch sight of the sickening ripple of a bloodied cut -a scar- slashing her entire back open from one end to the other diagonally.

Haggard and dirty, the profound fluffy one sticks out her nose and stares down the character in front of her. "Llana. I need to tell you... something... I'm sure you recall the time I told you celestial changes were about to wreak havoc on this world. Truught, especially. And how they started with me and you and... Well... the darkness I told you about... the one that seems to taint this place...

"That's it, specifically. That sense of nausea is a living, breathing organism that is ready to kill you all... There should be a hope out there somewhere. There has to be a light."
The dream spirals haphazardly through conditions.

"H-hhhaas... to... b-b-...be a...aaa...aaaaaaa-" With its snap came the timburr's awakening. Tim's bleary eyes stare up at the tip of the gray tent, regretting whatever foods he'd been eating to provoke such dreams. He surely hopes he doesn't have to go through such odd sights again... They creep him out, honestly.

With that, he decides to bury the dream addressed to Llana away in his mind and care not about telling that scrawny little snivy. Just a creepy dream.
Because that's all dreams are.

Along with another morning arrives my final bout of coughing and a realization that my wounds have finally reached the resolution of their anarchy. Their cold sores and bumbling senses of pain have ended, and I can finally stand myself up. Upon seeing my plight upon the gentle, soft, wooden floors, Zoey bumbles into me herself and springs us onto the oak ground in sight of me. "Oooooh, this is awesome!" she squeals as expected. "Say something cool!"
"I'm alive."
"That wasn't cool..." The naïve oshawott pouts, but the childish expression spills across her as a fluffy electric character we've gotten to know dashes through the house and runs himself out the door, his thick, black feet crafting thick thump thump thump thumps as he goes. With the opening splayed in such form, Zoey and I glimpse out of the entrance to see Elijah meeting up to a voice that summons our own selves out soon enough:

"Someone! Please! My son!"

Me: .D. Lookieeee, it's Miiiiinaaaaaaaa~
Mina: … That would be me-

Me: -NAAAAAAAAAAAA~ Aaaah, hahahaaaaa... Puns. :3

Mina: e-ell