Zoey: -dumps a box of glitter over my head-

Me: -spits profusely- I'm trying to come up with a not-so redundant intro besides what I'm doing. Which is always the same thing because what else would I be doing right now other than revising?

Tim: I heard you were on some vacation.

Me: Yep. Writing over vacation as my parents try to figure out where we're going~

Tim: Vacations involve rest.

Me: I like writing. Go away.

Tim: -runs off with Llana stuffed in the empty glitter box-

Chapter 14: Home

The fluffy one skids nearer a pillar, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Stupid... darkness... gah..." She curses under the breath she still has. Her paws scar shaky marks in the almost frozen ground underneath her furry paws. The wolf gasps in pain when nothing arrives into her lungs and begins to choke.

Froth.

Her maw mixes into a concoction of flecked spittle, bubbles, and ice.

Always ice. Always.

The wolf tumbles over, her body sending billows of snow everywhere as the shadows upon the walls detach their composure and spill out over once-pure fur.

Llana

Once the humming of the entercards squeals through its last breaths and awkward lighting remains silent, obvious rows upon rows of characters show amongst us. I know them: Espa; Umbre; Virizion; Zoey; Bay- we know these folks quite well. Jen's head bobbles in succession as her braids patter about. Elijah himself sits on the flats of Mary's inn's warm flooring seeming quite contented with his mammalian self. Gurdurr and his fluffier, smaller bipedal troops cram themselves about the edge of the inn and its innumerable tables and foods, almost as if uncomfortable. Then again, presumably the timburr friends and their boss spent furthermore time in the fields, working as we explored and Ember and Cheeka... found us and... yelled somewhat... Such a peculiar couple, they are. Mary herself fans out her pearly wings in a chortle beside her fellow companion: Quagsire, none else. His floppy smile materializes as we do in our own beams.

I don't want to go to the Great Glacier again. This alone is evident when my eyes catch the room about me and see just how shadowy it... isn't, unlike that putrid Mystery Dungeon. Practically stuffed with the dark, ominous feelings that tail me like my own tail and trickle through me, infiltrating my blood and roaming about... I shudder at the thought.

KER-PLOOSH!

In Bay's vain attempt to catch up to his more or less stranded best friend, he found himself rammed into a bowl filled to the rim of bright red juice. His bright yellow and white figure stains; long, hard, red lines of liquid spill about him. To my surprise, Ember gives a bemused smirk beside me and Cheeka lets out a small laugh. I hadn't noticed how close they were to me, let alone their actual beams to the situation.

"You like... to see his trip?" I weakly mumble. The words sound clunky -phony- as soon as I remove them from my head.

"I know the feeling of loneliness," mumbles the blue-furred panpour, her abnormally long strands of hair whisked about. Cheeka's eyes drop to the floor and catch on the warm boards below. "I like laughing when I can..." As if in timid response, Ember's pale hands thumb over her wild strands and easily comb through the mess, straightening Cheeka's form as if she hadn't been blown about in the first place.

He cares about her- evident.

Dull pink eyes fixate onto me, seeming to stick me over. I stay silent and awkward beneath the search. "Be careful out there, Llana." I don't know what he means, but it's quite obvious the cold pansear won't speak much more. An odd bit of him, lodged in my throat, reminds me of my own dad who must have been a pansear himself once in his life before he... evolved. Ember smirks to himself about a hidden joke. Pale fingers unfurl as they point haphazardly at the warm, brown walls: the darkness; the shadows. "Be aware. You saw what you saw." As Ember takes his pink-eyed companion's paw and the odd duo leave from the situation, I find not the strength to pursue...

Be careful out there, Llana... Be aware. You saw what you saw.

Ember... you... stop being mysterious. My head releases a thick-veined throb in acquiesce at the though of the flaming biped. If he'd told me about my Great Glacier misadventure or the teammates or actually cared to explain the shadows... I wish he wouldn't leave me hanging in such form. Can he not say as he pleases..? He couldn't find laughter in my awkward fermentation... no, I doubt Ember stoops that low. The bruises charring him appear somewhat... unhealthy, though. Unnatural, at the least.

Upon the sight of dark-eyes and dark fur seeming to saunter all the closer to me, I purposely stumble back and ram myself into the company of another dark-eyed being- one that should possibly not wish to commit toward whatever Tim does. "Hello, Elijah."

"Llana." His lighter voice rings out. I feel an odd pang in my stomach after not hearing it for such a time as the Great Glacier ensued. "You're looking well."

The emolga hastily hangs onto a wide array of ice-covered entities in the shapes of hollowed-out ovals. They look similar to the one Virizion accidentally snapped open not so long ago, with the voice of the youthful, surely naïve, but also surely jovial pokemon of prior destiny. "What were those called again..? What you're holding?"

"Frisms. Bay nabbed... too many."

"I see."

"Oh, do you? Thought you'd go blind on your little trip." With a flickering roll of his eyes, I remember my friend Elijah as the stubborn, pessimistic emolga it is.

"I... missed you."

Dark orbs widen and lighten considerably. "Odd. I did as well."

"..yeah..." It's all I can muster. "It's... nice to see you again..."

"I missed you all, really... But... yeah, nice to know you didn't die or anything..." Suddenly bashful, the winged mammal bobbles his head slightly and moves off, the ice-stuffed items in his arms overflowing all the much as a small few drop like bombs that release puffs of icy air.

Tim saunters on- closer. Closer to me. My breath hitches. He's looking for me... has to be looking for me. I don't want him to find me and abruptly shove myself into the range of a dear swanna's wingspan as she streams on about the advantages of brown floorboards and their ability to obtain heat. "Oi, stone is just too cold! Too ravaged and worn down- really. I'm a water typed pokemon and if a fire starts in this inn, I assure you, I will save it. This is my turf, per se. And no measly flicker of flames can go and eat it all up! Surely not! Do I look like a miffed, soft-padded chub? Surely not!"

Her dear friend Quagsire, still listening intently to her rant of a monologue, bobs his head with each word. Inside the marble-like eyes shine bright, glimmering specks, as if the floppy water type could listen to Mary's speech for however long her bill moves. It's... cute, honestly, his distinct taking to her -and hers to him- and how forsooth their sweet, gentle relation must go. In a weird, contradicting form, I remind myself of Zoey and her sometimes harmful, but always truthful, nature. She likes to smile as well, and squeal and laugh and all those important assets of... joy.

Tim.

Closer.

He doesn't remind me of Zoey. If I could picture the young oshawott in his place, I surely wouldn't be scrawling away in the first place. I like Zoey. I... Tim... he's... he's-

like a blustery billow of wind, catching up to me and forcing me every which way and seeming to duck low for a moment before puncturing me again, drilling into my mind and hanging on tightly and dangerously, as well. In simpler terms: Tim scares me. I don't think I like him, especially not in a suit similar to the oshawott I've gotten to know quite well. She, at least, can't hide her secrets well- we all know there's something odd about her coming to start Paradise alone, and she threatens scrambles of words that flash from "we" to "I" in a way that proves she has a secret.

Tim doesn't talk. He doesn't, really... The air about him chokes me, but it's not like I have the proof of why, exactly, I feel durantsy. I just... am...

"Where did you say Llana went?" Dark tones cut through my bones with each word. Stop. Please stop.

But it's not like I've spoken loud enough for Jen to hear me- not like I spoke whatsoever. "Like... over... ugh, she's too sho- THERE!" Blue fingers dance furtively in the warm, snug air circling lazily about us; and out point those fingers, still and grand and fluttering like a flag, their small, sky-wrapped colors hanging right out: pointed straight at me, no doubt.

And they are.

And dark, dark eyes see this and train closer, their movements seeming loud enough, noticeable enough, putrid enough that a soul could figure this out.

I recall that Zoey pulls a hard dislike of romance in front of her. If I could see her and point out the predicament...

Zoey doesn't like any sort of this feeling Tim holds in his gaze, this what she may call impure, selfish, immoral, among other words. She would be on my side.

She could help me out here...

But she can't- gone missing; I'm alone here. And this thought comes to mind as a hand clasps hard and jagged around my own, dragging me easily in such form that passerby could assume I'm walking myself. "Llana, I can protect you."

Please stop... please stop...

"And then no one can harm you."

Stop... stop... I'm fine... I'm fine on my own...

"And you will be safe. And you will be here."

Don't say the words, Tim. Don't say the-

"And then I will have you all to myself~"

Dizziness overcomes me, and I slump out of consciousness.

Mist of all colors surrounds me- mist I thought I'd never see again. And yet here I am, eye to eye with not the stubborn, balloon-shaped Munna herself but a cone, a cone dripping to the core with waves upon waves of burning, blazing heat that catches in my throat and demands a cough, and another, and one more. Molten-hot magma spurs about where it wishes. Although placement differs, a well-recognized voice shrieks up my ears and clatters about in my mind with a satisfying BANG and CLANG and thump, thuUMP, THUMP.

"Lllllllaaaaaaaaaannnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Munna, again, begging for help. All thoughts of our prior encounter are flung aside as I throw myself into the crevices the volcano offers and stuff my limbs into molten cracks, in search of holds to take me to her. I'll save you, Munna. It seems only I can, anyways- besides... after all those times she sent a dream to me, I must be... stronger than I thought. My obvious lack of physical strength could make a comeback with these healing methods I have acquainted myself to.

I'm not weak. Munna's... not stupid.

"Save me! SAVE ME!"

And I can save her; I can save the little munna.

Me.

Upon the rushed awakening, dark, dark blue orbs match with mine. "You okay?" Unlike my previous assumption, it appears the timburr truly hasn't caused any injury to my body or emotional state- any of it. He's... not being mean.

Flickering, choking whispers of breath, of that aura radiating from him so stealthily, begs to differ as it toils with my lungs and head. "Y-yeah..." I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. I can't believe I'm fine.

Tim hasn't struck... but the dark, lulling pull at my hand, once again, at my body in its own, continues to pressure like a dark stone in my head, banging along as it pleases... not unlike Munna's voice. But Munna... is a victim. She needs help- me.

"You sure?"

"I think so."

"That isn't a solid answer." The smile in his face reveals those sharp, white teeth.

"I... I'm fine, Tim..."

"Okay, then." Dark eyes continue to lazily watch over me, as if worried to a loss of me, that I'm going to pass out and fall apart in the next few moments, until deciding to take my word. I didn't realize how much tension streamed against my bones-to-flesh momentum. His hand releases mine and the pent-up emotions spill out among me.

Shaking, crossing my fingers in vain hope I don't appear suspicious in a way, I bid my farewell and duck off from the dark-furred timburr, sucking in a deep, thankful breath when no footsteps follow. Instead, I brush myself off from the moment, soon recognizing the warm, brown floorboards creaking below me -I'm in my own home- and run myself toward the map I'd made myself from the help of Victini in the low-lighting of the sinking moon.

A fluffy, winged, yellow-colored mammal sits quietly in the front of the map, quietly humming to himself with a little smile curved upon his softly white face. I stumble back, not wanting to disturb him. I recall the emolga's large eyes and quickly see his ears twitch: Elijah faces me. "Llana..?" A yawn pulls from his jaws. "You couldn't sleep either..?"

"It's not that..." But I don't know how to explain that... predicament... I experienced with Tim. "I just..."

"You had a lousy night. Saw you getting taken in by Tim, for crying out loud. He creeps me out, that dark-furred... dark-eyed... This may sound kind of crazy, but I just feel uneasy around the guy."

He... "You feel similar?"

"Yeah, but don't go spilling that to everyone. Wouldn't like to think of the consequences. So... if it's just us... do you want to do anything..?" Again, the bashful composure seems to take him over. In response, I fold myself in place beside him, and with our feet sticking out like sore thumbs, we watch the glimmering moon's dance as it rises and falls and begins to dip and sway into the light of morning. "Sounds fine with me."

We sit like this for a long, stretched moment. It's... peaceful, oddly. I didn't think the pessimistic Elijah appeared like much a joy, even with his sticking to Bay, his sweet best friend: a combination like sour aspear berries and sugary pecha. But of course, it seems the odd duo fit. I guess I did miss Elijah, to a weird degree... And now I'm beginning to see more than the dark thoughts and mouth. He has... a heart, maybe. I'll see, possibly.

Hah... what a weird thought...

"You're not so bad, Llana."

"I could say the same."

"Eh." His black-lined ears twitch almost childishly. "You're quiet. It's kind of peaceful."

"I could say the same."

"Okay, now you're deliberately repeating yourself."

Dumbstruck, I lose any chance at response. "Heh. You do shut up pretty quickly..." And he drifts off as well, in tone.

But I still feel Elijah's presence, oddly warm, by my cold-blooded side...

…..

Under a soon-woken oshawott's order, I eventually crawl into the dark depths, the attic, really, of Mary's spacious inn along with a certain winged mammal as we watch in jagged awe as a small, yellow light springs up from the midst of the earth and radiates off into the sky. The small yellow ball connects with others, and together the pieces float towards the top of the eggshell blue blanket, the all-empowering atmosphere, leaving our world as we know it and disappearing for good. My eyes widen, intrigued on what had happened. "That was so... so cool!" Zoey squeals beside me in her naïve voice.

"Yep... we've been seeing them for awhile now," murmurs the emolga beside us.

"I can't believe you didn't show us until now..." Zoey pouts. Her face points so easily that her naïve composure is easily caught onto.

"Better late than never." We pause again as another ball of bright, glimmering light shoots out from our eyesight and disappears high up in the sky, never to be seen again. The blue composure holds no hidden insight about what or where these sparkling globes are for...

I sneeze suddenly; a dust buneary must be lurking about in the dark, dusty room. Even the surplus of window space -locked tight windows, unfortunately- make no difference to the layers of grime, dust, and other tiny particles waiting to trip a pokemon up in place.

Elijah, as if possessed, zips out of the warm, blackened chamber at will and Zoey, of game as she always will be, takes a mad scramble, grappling me along...

We eventually sight a quick glimpse of bright, yellow fur behind our team's house. I slowly sneak behind the wooden room, searching for Elijah. I hear the oak door slam shut as Zoey walks inside.

"Llllaaaaaanaaa!"

And yet, I turn around to face nothing. Where did the voice come from..?

"Really, Llana? Why over there? It's here, silly!" I've never heard Elijah call one silly- stupid plenty of times. Almost like the sullen character teases me...

In response, I quietly slink towards the front of the house, at the location of the voice. Gone. My eyes glaze shut and I glare at the ground, upset with myself.

Although soon enough... a tap, tap, tap on my shoulder. And the voice in my ear. "Right here!" It squeaks before gone again. I swipe at the air beside me thoughtfully. And quickly swerve to the side. I land atop something, and a crash echoes through the space.

"You're a lot heavier than I thought, ow..."

"Sorry, Elijah." I glimpse away from his pained face.

"Just messing with you, Llana. Heh~"

O...oh... Okay, then...

…...

The green-scaled creature settles herself for the night as voices cut into the dark, misty night outside her door, panicked voices of characters paddling back and forth that had the intention of deserting:

"Ember, what will she do when she realizes we've gone..?"

"Cheeka... I don't know. We have to leave... we have to. You heard Stella; Kyurem... Kyo. It's too powerful. We need to do something about it again."

"I... I know..."

A sudden blast of bright pink energy alights the night as the pale blue biped is flung against her own will into a tree.

"I hate my powers..."

"It's okay, Cheeka... no one was hurt..."

"Oh... okay..." She winces, a small twig's scrape bulging in defiance. "Okay..."

"Okay..."

Upon the sound of their panting, running tones, practically melding together along with their hope, another voice pricks the snivy's mind, the snivy oh-so snug in her home:

Traitors.

Bloody, filthy traitors.

They will kill me, Llana.

You must stop them.

Me:Aghgggh

in hot hotel

pants

ugughghhgghghg

Llana: e_e

Elijah: Stop.

Me: aghghghghghghgghgg