When Blanche finished describing their encounter to Candela and Spark, they had the nerve to ask, "So, does that all make sense?"
Candela clasped her hands behind her head, trying to keep cool. "Honestly, Blanche, none of that made sense. But nothing new there, right?"
Spark stared at a spot on the wall of the cell, eyes narrowed, hair even more disheveled than usual. "So there are legendary pokémon… in our heads… right now."
"Yeah, how does that even work?" Candela asked.
"I don't know. Perhaps it's their essence or spirit. Some kind of psychic imprint," Blanche said, grasping for a suitable explanation. "Whatever the case, Waik thinks it's dangerous, and I'd have to agree. Since the birds can't exist in their usual forms here in the mountain, our only chance to rid ourselves of them is to get back outside. Waik claims to know a way out, and it sounds a lot like the way we came in."
"As in, it will require the birds? Will that work while they're stuck inside our minds?" Spark asked.
Blanche, who sat on their knees in front of them, tightened their fists. "I didn't think of that. Waik must think it will work, and I'm inclined to trust her. I hope she's alright. She collapsed at the end of our conversation. I tried to warn her about Team Rocket, but I'm not sure that she heard me."
"Not that we've seen any sign of them since we arrived," Candela commented.
"Waik said something must have gone wrong with the door, likely because it was collapsing while we went through. The Rockets could have been scattered throughout the mountain, not just deposited at a single point. We saw a few retreating from the chamber we arrived in, but they may have been separated from most of their group. They could all be split up, wandering aimlessly around the caves like we've been doing," Blanche suggested.
"Did Waik say if there were other towns like this one?" Spark asked, still staring at the wall.
"She made it seem like this is actually a small town, though it seems fairly large to me. There must be cities throughout the mountain range. Hopefully, the Rockets are just as disoriented as we are, and won't pose a real threat to the mountain dwellers, even with their pokémon," Blanche said.
"But they don't have pokémon, and won't know what to expect," said Spark. "Maybe they've been fending off the Lost all these years, but this will be different. I'd like to think the Rockets wouldn't turn their pokémon loose on human beings, but they've already proven they aren't above that. Both the mountain dwellers and the pokémon will be at risk."
Candela's heart ached for the Rocket pokémon. No pokémon should ever be used in such a way. Pokémon were meant to battle each other, in careful, nonlethal matches. But when they fought people, the game could turn deadly for both parties. It was unnatural and unfair to everyone involved. Such gruesome warfare hadn't been legal for years, but Team Rocket had apparently missed the memo.
"I don't know that we can do anything but warn Waik's people and hope that Team Rocket will have the sense not to pick a fight with them," Blanche said. "After all, they didn't expect the civilization to survive down here. They thought they'd be searching ruins for a secret to human-pokémon bonding. Once they find a large and living community in their way, they'll be forced to turn back."
"But they can't turn back," Candela said. "We're their ticket out of here, and they might not even know it."
Spark finally looked away from the wall. He'd been a little dazed since he'd woken from his drug-induced sleep, but his eyes blazed with focus now. "So we find the Rockets and lead them out of here."
"Spark, the mountain is huge, and they could be anywhere," Blanche said.
"Then we find a way to communicate with all of them. Let them know there's a way out," Spark said.
"I see what you're saying, but how are we supposed to pull that off?" Candela asked.
Spark considered it for a moment. "Dillinger's communicator."
"I couldn't turn it on after the bag fell in the river. In the best of situations, it's simply out of energy, but I'm concerned it was damaged by the water," Blanche said.
"Not to mention it might have been fried by the portal," Candela reminded Spark. "We couldn't make a call to the Professor with it."
"Right, but that was a call directed outside of the mountain," Spark said, picking up steam. "Maybe that was the problem. Maybe there's a function on it that will let it reach other Team Rocket communicators, like a radio signal or something. They've been doing their research underground for a while, and I'm sure reception was terrible, even on the other side of the door. But Dr. Dillinger could make calls and send messages to other Rockets, so they must have developed a work-around. If the communicator just needs a charge, Rutabaga can take care of it. She'll have to be careful, but I've had her charge my electronics before."
"This is all assuming we'll be reunited with our pokémon and the duffel bag," Candela said, crossing her arms.
"I'm sure we will. When Waik comes to, we'll be let out of this cell, she'll return our pokémon and belongings, and she'll direct us on where to go," Blanche said.
Candela flattened her lips to keep herself from commenting on how trusting Blanche was of their captor. She wanted to ask why Waik had chosen Blanche to commune with, but she feared she knew the answer. Blanche's new intracranial roommate was prone to quiet, harmless dissociation, not wild bouts of violence. If Waik was going to take a walk in any of their skulls, Blanche's made the most sense.
The door to the cell scraped open, and all three leaders jumped to their feet expectantly. A pair of stone-faced guards beckoned them out, and Blanche was the first to approach them. Spark followed, exchanging an uneasy look with Candela, the limp back in his step. She didn't like how compliant Blanche had become either, considering Waik had been in favor of execution prior to their psychic rendezvous, but she had to trust them and hope for the best.
As the guards led them out of the well-fortified cellblock, the rumble of distant drums became audible. Good. They were going to be ritualistically sacrificed. Candela had seen enough campy movies to know that drums in the distance typically meant someone was going to be burned at the stake or chopped up and plopped in a cannibal's cauldron. She tugged Spark's wrist to get his attention.
"You getting the same bad feeling as I am?" she whispered.
"Weirdly, the ominous drumming isn't worrying me that much," Spark said, frowning.
"Are you sure the pond scum wonder-drug is completely out of your system?"
"Yes," Spark said. He stumbled as his ankle failed to function properly and added, "Unfortunately."
Candela offered him her arm, and he reluctantly held it, relieving some of the pressure from his injury. She observed the red glow of his ears, either from embarrassment or frustration or some mixture of the two. Maybe Waik could spare some more of her unappetizing concoction. As disconcerting as it was to see Spark influenced by it, she liked seeing him relaxed, the lines of worry erased from his brow, free from the pain and fear that pervaded this place. Hell, Candela wouldn't mind trying some herself.
The thunderous noise amplified dramatically as the guards guided the trio out of the building. The apparent town square that had been nearly empty when they'd been jailed several hours before now swarmed with activity. A pillar of flame rose from the center of the square, and for a second, Candela imagined the agonizing, fiery death that loomed before her. But then she saw the faces in the crowd, smiling, laughing, not menacing at all. Still not a great sign, but the atmosphere didn't feel murderous.
Strings of lanterns crisscrossed the square, chasing away any of the darkness that the central bonfire hadn't. Beneath the lanterns, people chattered and danced and pointed and carried on, festive and vibrant. A melody rose above the bass tones of the massive drums that circled the fire on metal stands. The music was percussive but rich, harmonizing and zipping through runs, the tempo swift and jovial.
As if he could sense Candela's confusion over the source of the more lyrical lines of music, Spark pointed to a long array of flat stone slabs, aligned from large to small, in front of one of the dwellings at the edge of the square. Candela had never seen a xylophone quite like this. It had to be 20 feet long, each key a half foot in width, played by four musicians with long mallets that they twirled above their heads when they weren't striking notes.
"What in the actual-"
Spark pressed his finger to Candela's lips to shush her as Waik stepped in front of them, appearing out of nowhere, so short that the guards had obstructed Candela's view of her. Her dark-ringed eyes and slumped shoulders gave her a haggard appearance, like she'd aged several years since Candela's first exchange with her, but she smiled at Blanche and positioned herself next to them.
Candela pushed Spark's hand away from her face. "Aren't they looking chummy," she grumbled to Spark.
"Jealous?" Spark teased, his nose crinkled impishly.
"Suspicious," Candela corrected. "What's even happening right now? One minute people are kneeling before us, the next we're imprisoned, and Blanche is having a literal tête-à-tête with a woman whose first instinct was to execute them. And now this… whatever this is?"
"A festival, I think," Spark said. He sniffed the air and smiled. "A festival with food."
Candela's stomach rumbled as she breathed in the savory scent of something cooking nearby. Maybe she was getting too worked up over this. Maybe she was jealous of how quickly Blanche had decided to trust someone that Candela couldn't even hold a conversation with. She was ashamed of that spark of envy in her heart, and a bit surprised. Candela thought of herself as a resilient woman, able to roll with the punches. So why was she so hung up on this? Perhaps she could blame her cranky, skeptical mood on low blood sugar.
Waik turned to face the three of them and spread her hand toward the busy square, wearing a smile like an embarrassed parent introducing an unruly but well-intentioned child. People in the square finally noticed the presence of their leader and her three guests, and their voices rose to shouts. They waved and pointed and signaled to friends and family in their ranks. Waik's smile wavered, confirming Candela's impression that she didn't approve of the raucous welcome that had been prepared.
Despite Waik's uncertainty, she parted the cheering crowd with a wave of her frail hand and motioned for Blanche, Spark, and Candela to accompany her toward the middle of the square. Happy shouts and wild music left Candela's ears ringing, but the celebratory mood was contagious. She felt herself smiling without meaning to, mirroring the ghost-white faces that surrounded her.
Someone took her by the shoulders from behind as she reached the bonfire. She tensed, but allowed herself to be guided to a seat at a long, coppery table laden with plates of unfamiliar, steaming food. Blanche sat next to her, their olive eyes wide, taking in every detail. They flashed a brief smile at Candela but quickly became distracted by a pair of villagers who had pulled Spark aside.
Spark's face flushed as one of the men held him steady and the other examined his ankle, wrapping a length of cord around it, marking the cord with charcoal, and bending the foot up and down to check the range of motion. Candela barely heard Spark's polite but insistent protests above the roar of humanity around them.
Waik shooed the men away and pulled Spark to a seat on the other side of Candela, shaking her head apologetically before rushing off into the crowd again.
"What was that?" Candela asked him.
Spark shrugged, looking as flustered as a spearow hatchling. Blanche leaned forward to speak, but the crowd noise swelled before the words could come out.
From behind the bonfire, a great, flaming bird soared. It took Candela a few breathless beats to recognize that it was not really alive, so dazed was she by the cacophony and smoke and overwhelming scents of fire-roasted food. The cloth-and-steel bird was held aloft by poles, carried by three puppeteers that walked below it. The wings were constructed of greased cloth, burning so brightly they left an afterimage in Candela's eyes as the puppeteers guided the fake Moltres around the fire. Candela felt the eyes of her friends on her, but couldn't look away.
Next came a shining metal creature, flown on poles much like the bird before it. Flat, jagged strips of brass imitated Zapdos' spiky plumage, and the metallic feathers flashed with each beat of the broad wings. The articulated beak opened and closed when a trigger at the base of the central pole was depressed. These constructs could not be new. With this degree of engineering, they had to have been around for a while.
Finally, Articuno appeared from behind the licking flames. The blue-tinted, glowing crystals that peppered the cave system were woven in intricate swirls into the dark cloth that formed the bird's body. A fourth puppeteer guided the long, silky tail feathers, undulating them as if they flowed in the wind. The bird swam through the air like a living thing, trailing its siblings in a loop.
Candela finally managed to tear her gaze away to look at her equally wonderstruck friends. While they'd been preoccupied by the show, Waik had returned to the table. She stood behind Blanche, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the fire, lips pressed so tightly that they lost their small amount of pigment. It didn't require Spark's powers of intuition to deduce her opinion of the impromptu festival.
As if Waik could feel Candela's eyes on her, she glanced to the side and met the Valor leader's gaze. Candela quickly looked away, pretending that she'd merely been observing the throng of people around them. At the edge of her vision, she could tell Waik was still staring at her with those eyes, foggy blue like sea glass.
To Candela's relief, Waik eventually blinked and stepped in front of the table to address the three friends. She gestured at the food, motioning with her hands for her guests to eat. She offered a weak smile of encouragement that vanished when a long-limbed woman stepped out of the crowd and whispered something in her ear. The woman handed Waik a stone tablet and tapped insistently on it. Waik waved the woman off, her nearly invisible brows drawn tight as her eyes roved over the tablet hungrily. Candela tried to lean to the side enough to see what Waik was looking at, but before she could get a decent angle, Waik tucked the tablet into the folds of her robe. She motioned again for the three of them to eat, then followed the gangly woman into the crowd.
Candela waited until Waik was out of sight before she spoke. "OK, what the hell is this about?"
"I'm not sure, but Waik is barely tolerating it," Blanche said as they squinted suspiciously at the banquet before them.
The crowd cheered as the birds made another loop around the fire and then dispersed into the masses.
Spark skewered a dumpling-like morsel with the two-pronged metal utensils their benefactors had provided. "I don't know about you guys, but if I had been trapped in a cave for a few centuries and told stories about how a group of royals would return to free me someday, I'd probably throw a party for them when they showed up, too."
"Maybe more than one party," Candela agreed as the puppet-Moltres flapped by again, its fiery wings crackling. "I bet they have at least a couple holidays or ceremonies or something revolving around the story of the royals and legendary birds."
"I wonder why Waik isn't on board with this particular party," Spark mused before popping the dumpling into his mouth.
Blanche started and grabbed his wrist before he could go for another. "Spark! You don't even know what that is!"
Spark chewed thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side then the other, as if he were a critic at a classy restaurant. He swallowed and nodded his approval. "Whatever it is, it's a million times better than a cave drug smoothie. It tastes like mushrooms, actually. Try one, Blanche."
He stabbed another dumpling and offered it to them, but Blanche leaned back, a slight sneer twisting their lip. Candela chuckled and picked up what looked like a dark, greenish round of flat bread from a nearby dish. It was soft and spongy between her fingers, a texture similar to a Portobello mushroom, and yet different.
Before Candela could try a bite, Blanche interrupted. "We don't know how their food will affect us. We need to be cautious."
"I was given some soup when Spark and I first arrived, remember? And nothing bad happened. I think we'll be alright," Candela said. "Blanche, I know you're picky, but you have to eat something. All we've had in the past who-knows-how-long is junk food and granola bars. We need something more substantial if we want to keep going."
Blanche's eyes narrowed and Candela knew she'd struck the nerve she'd been aiming for.
"I'm not picky. I'm being rational," they said, taking the dumpling from Spark with more force than necessary. "I suppose if you're alright, I will be as well."
Spark and Candela shared amused expressions as Blanche tentatively brought the dumpling close to their face, their movements short and choppy, as if they were fighting with their own body to deliver the morsel to their mouth. In a moment of decisiveness, Blanche squeezed their eyes shut and took a bite. After a few slow chews, their face relaxed, and their brows lifted in pleasant surprise.
"Not so bad, right?" Spark prompted.
Blanche politely covered their mouth with their hand to answer. "Better than junk food."
"OK, well, let's not make any crazy claims," Spark said, reaching for more mysterious dishes.
The conversation ceased as the three began to eat, deaf to all but their awakened hunger. Candela started slowly, unsure of what to expect. The salty broth she'd had before reminded her of improvised miso soup, and the salty theme carried over to this meal. Each new and strange dish was a different sort of savory. Some flavors she could recognize, like the woodsy mushroom taste, or dark, bitter hints of seaweed. Others were completely foreign to her, and she could hardly come up with the words to describe them. The bread-like thing she'd first picked up, for example. It tasted creamy and rich, but also slightly tangy in a tongue-tingling way she'd never experienced before. What was it? Where had it come from? Were these people somehow able to farm here in the eternal darkness? They had water, she supposed, and the presence of the massive bonfire suggested that the cavern was ventilated in some way. But what about sunlight and soil?
If these questions were occurring to Candela, she was certain Blanche was pondering the same things. In any other circumstance, coming across this bizarre and isolated vestige of ancient culture would have been a dream come true for Blanche. It was a treasure trove of lost knowledge, the kind of discovery Blanche had strived for all their life. They were just as invested in the evolution of mankind as they were in the evolution of individual species of pokémon. Candela had witnessed them rant about that point on several occasions, after they'd had enough wine to let their words flow freely. If Blanche had the time to truly study this place, maybe they'd finally be satisfied. Maybe they'd finally be happy.
But they didn't have the luxury of time. If what Waik had told Blanche was true, none of them could last long in the mountain. Candela's heart flooded with guilt as she remembered the rage that had possessed her. She couldn't let that happen again. The sooner Moltres was out of her head, the better.
The men who had intercepted Spark on the way to the table suddenly reappeared, carrying a tangle of metal and cord. They beckoned for Spark emphatically, smiling, yelling to be heard over the ambient noise, despite the language barrier. Spark turned to Blanche for translation, but they were absorbed in the activity of dissecting one of the dumplings and separating the ingredients for analysis. He looked next to Candela, who shrugged.
The men lost patience and came around the table for him. Spark allowed them to guide him out of his seat, his eyes lingering longingly on the little plate he'd prepared for himself but hadn't had the chance to enjoy. Candela watched apprehensively as the men stood Spark in front of the table and set to strapping bowed pieces of metal around his wounded ankle.
In a matter of seconds, they completed their task and stood back to admire their handiwork. Curved steel framed Spark's foot, forming a rocker that reminded Candela of the rocking ponyta toy she'd adored as a child. Flat bars provided support to the ankle joint, and the prosthetic was held in place with braided cord. Spark gingerly applied pressure to the leg, his arms outspread in case the jerry-rigged contraption unbalanced him. He released a surprised laugh as the construct rocked with his weight.
The men gesticulated excitedly, clearly asking for feedback. Spark smiled broadly and flashed a double thumbs-up, a gesture that the men seemed baffled by at first, but used the context to accept as a positive response. They mimicked the motion, shaking their thumbs, laughing and clapping each other on the back.
"It's like a walking boot," Blanche said, their attention finally pulled away from their inspection of the meal. "So much of the architecture here appears simple, but this is a piece of precise and efficient engineering. Look at how seamlessly the components have been soldered together…"
There was no mistaking the ache in their voice. They wanted to know what else this world was hiding. They thirsted for the information that had been lost to history for so long, but there was no time to quench that thirst. The intricacies of metalworking didn't interest Candela, but she understood that lust for understanding, and her heart hurt to see the wistful look on Blanche's face.
"This is great! How cool is this?" Spark exclaimed, clunking around in a clumsy circle as he acclimated to the gift. Candela caught a brief grimace pull his face as he adjusted, but at least he was walking independently. Every step was smoother than the last, until his limp was scarcely noticeable.
The drums abruptly changed their rhythm, and a new, faster melody started up. The three puppet-birds appeared out of the crowd again and formed a line. A trail of dancers followed them into the open space near the fire. They moved their arms in complex, fluid configurations, almost like a form of martial arts. Many of the dancers were children, struggling to match the patterns of their elders, giggling as they tried to keep up.
Spark staggered out of the way as the line passed him by, his smile so wide Candela thought he might split his face in two.
"Oh no, please don't…" Candela groaned as Spark's foot began to tap.
She shielded her face in embarrassment as Spark attempted to join in the dance. The dancers broke away from the line to watch, chuckling, slowing down their movements to help Spark recreate them. An old woman with a hunched back and a grinning, wrinkled face took his wrists to guide him along and clapped as he started to catch on. Just like any above-ground grandmother, she patted his cheek affectionately as he perfected the move, which made Spark and the gaggle of children who had collected around him laugh all the harder.
The adults fell in line again to parade back into the crowd, which now writhed with other dancers. The children, however, remained with Spark, showing him different moves, swinging their hips, throwing their arms in the air, kicking their feet in time to the beat. One little boy, maybe five years old, tugged on Spark's robe and demonstrated a move that focused on swinging his chubby little forearms back and forth. Spark deliberately mimicked the move in the goofiest way he could, and the boy dissolved into giggles and tried to show him again.
"Like this?" Spark asked as he performed an even more absurd rendition.
The little boy laughed so riotously that it was more of a shriek, the kind of laughter that only children have the spirit to make, that eruption of joy bigger than their small bodies can contain, bigger than any sorrow they could know. He and the other kids began to show off their silliest dance moves, sticking out their tongues and crossing their eyes as they did, slowing only to giggle at each other and try to guide Spark's arms like the old woman had.
Spark's smile shone as bright as the fire behind him. Just like when they were kids, playing in the woods together, catching their first pokémon, or telling each other stories. That pure, uncontainable smile that infected everyone around him, that could clear away gray skies and turn the ordinary into the extraordinary.
Candela hadn't seen that smile for much too long.
"Candela?"
Blanche frowned at her, and she realized a tear had slipped down her cheek. She rushed to wipe it away with her fingers.
"This smoke is killing my eyes," she said, and it wasn't a total lie.
Blanche's frown deepened. "It's stinging my eyes a bit, too. I was worried you might be thinking of Jou-"
"Candela! Blanche! Get out here!" Spark shouted, saving Candela from hearing the rest of Blanche's sentence.
Though Candela usually avoided dancing unless she'd had a drink first, she jumped up immediately to join him to avoid responding to Blanche. As she approached Spark, a few kids ran to surround her and pull her into the group, gripping her fingers in their small hands. Children weren't usually her thing. Showing them the ropes of becoming a pokémon trainer was one thing, but dancing and playing with them? She always bumbled through that kind of stuff. Candela watched Spark for cues and attempted to relax her rigid body as the kids tried to teach her their dances.
"Blanche, don't be a party pooper!" Spark called to the Mystic leader, who hadn't budged from their seat. "Even Candela's getting her groove on!"
"I'd rather not," said Blanche.
"Don't make me do something you'll regret," Spark warned puckishly.
Blanche ignored him and busied themself with their study of the food.
Spark clucked his tongue. "You've forced my hand. Get 'em, guys."
He bent low and pointed at Blanche, and the kids instantly gathered his meaning. A giddy pack of children dispatched to collect Blanche, who looked up in alarm as they closed in on them. They shook their head vigorously, repeating that word they'd used before, raka. If the children understood that they were saying "no," they showed no signs of acknowledgment. The kids swept Blanche from their seat, pushing them to the dancefloor, entertained by Blanche's stiff demeanor and halfhearted attempts to escape back to the table.
"Let them teach you," Spark suggested to Blanche, who clearly didn't know what to do with themself now that they were trapped within a ring of children. "You'll be learning a dance that no one outside of this mountain has ever seen."
Blanche considered Spark's words for a while, then allowed their muscles to unknot. Seeing the change in their posture, a gap-toothed young girl took Blanche's hands and swayed them gently back and forth. Candela thought she saw a flicker of a smile, but it could have also been a nervous twitch.
"I've never seen you dance before, Blanche," Candela said as the gap-toothed girl picked up the pace and introduced some new elements.
"And you never will again," Blanche stated, awkwardly imitating the girl's motions.
"Aw, come on," Spark purred, rocking his shoulder against Blanche's to encourage them to sway. "You're starting to have a little fun. You're feeling the funk."
"I am not feeling the-" Blanche couldn't bring themself to repeat the full phrase. "I am trying to learn something about a culture that has evolved in isolation. If that requires some… aerobic exercise… then so be it."
Spark quirked his brow at Candela and, despite knowing he was about to do something even more embarrassing, she nodded her support. He sashayed closer to Blanche and tapped the little girl on the shoulder. She grinned up at him and allowed him to switch places with her, standing in front of Blanche, holding their hands.
Blanche's cheeks reddened and they fixed Spark with a stern look. "What are you doing?"
"I think we should teach them some of our moves, too," Spark said.
Candela motioned for the kids to clear some room for the two of them, and the children crowded around her, curious eyes sparkling in the firelight. Spark guided Blanche's hand to a perch on his shoulder, then placed his hand on their waist. Not allowing Blanche a chance to object, he led the dance, sweeping them with him in a fast-paced yet fluid waltz. Blanche's fingers tightened on his shoulder as they were pulled along in swift circles. Somehow, Spark managed to use the prosthetic on his ankle to his advantage, making smooth turns on the rockers, keeping his weight primarily on his good leg. For once in their life, Blanche seemed klutzy by comparison. Candela longed for her communicator, wishing she could be recording this moment of beautiful absurdity.
Blanche yelped as Spark dipped them unexpectedly, their long hair brushing across the ground. They hauled themself upright again amid raucous laughter from the children and Candela. After shooting a steely glance at Candela, Blanche grabbed Spark's hands and switched their positions. Now, his hand was on their shoulder, and Blanche could guide him with their hand on his waist.
"What's this? You complain about dancing, and now you want to lead?" Spark asked.
"I merely think the one in the dress should take the feminine position," Blanche said with the faintest hint of a smirk, referring to Spark's native couture. "For the accuracy of the aesthetic."
Spark fluffed the skirt of his robe. "Fair enough."
Candela gasped at how quickly Blanche took command. They transformed the dance from waltz to swing, spinning Spark out to the side and pulling him back like a yoyo. Spark reeled dizzily for a second but rebounded quickly, matching Blanche's competitive ferocity. He echoed their steps and changes in direction so instantaneously that he seemed to be reading their mind. The two spun and dipped and pressed close again, Spark only slightly hindered by his new hardware, Blanche barely making allowances for it. The dance had turned into a contest, not unlike the pokémon battles the leaders occasionally engaged in on slow days at the lab. The children who mobbed around Candela cheered for the dancers, and she couldn't help but join in.
"Give us a twirl!" she shouted.
Spark, being the taller of the two, took the initiative and lifted Blanche's hand so they could spin, their ponytail trailing the momentum of their body, sharing a striking resemblance with the puppet-Articuno's tail. The kids paired off around Candela, choosing partners to spin, then swapping places. The tiniest child among them, a round-faced girl with wild hair, stood alone, the last pick. Candela offered her hand, and the girl gleefully took it and allowed Candela to spin her.
Spark and Blanche's dance continued, ever sharper, pulling apart and rejoining, their faces coming so close their eyelashes might have brushed each other. All around them, a sea of dancing youths mimicked them, hopping out of the way when they spun close, filling in the gaps they left behind. Older dancers joined in, craning to see their new tutors, stepping on each other's feet, doubling over in hilarity.
But as Spark turned to barrel roll with Blanche, something in him changed. He froze up, tripping over his feet, no longer the graceful figure on the dancefloor. His smile shattered as his eyes focused on something in the crowd. Blanche didn't catch the change as quickly as Candela did, and they tried to pull him back into the rhythm, which threw them both off balance. They tumbled to the ground, which raised another round of laughter from the crowd, as if this was all part of their performance.
Blanche sprang back up immediately, brushing themself off before offering a hand to Spark. They were both flushed and panting, and though Spark flashed Blanche an apologetic grin, something wasn't right about it. He stood slowly, his eyes flicking toward the spot he'd been staring at in the crowd.
"I take it you've had enough?" Blanche taunted in their signature deadpan.
Spark shook his head as if to clear it. "I… uh…"
Candela waded through the youngsters, scanning the area where Spark kept looking but not finding anything out of place. Just more pale people, dancing, merrily oblivious. "Spark, what happened? What did you see? And if you say 'nothing,' I swear I'll knock you senseless."
"You already know," Spark said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Blanche finally caught up. "You mean you saw her again?"
As was her habit, Waik appeared from nowhere again and dropped Blanche's duffel at their feet. She passed a skeptical glance over the trio, as if she suspected they were up to something.
"Thank you," Blanche said, bowing their head in gratitude. They lifted the bag's strap to their shoulder.
Waik nodded, accepting the sentiment despite the language gap. Then she waved for the three of them to follow her, a gesture Candela was already growing weary of. There was still food at the table calling her name, but if Waik wanted them to go, then what choice did they have?
"We'll discuss this later," Blanche said quietly, and the three leaders followed Waik away from the fire as the birds passed over their heads one last time.
§
AN: My dudes, so much has been happening and continues to happen. My newest time constraint comes in the form of a grad course I'm taking to get my Certified Financial Planner designation so I can be more useful at my job in a wealth management office, where I currently only have insurance licensure. That's an extra 10 hours of time a week devoted to studying, on top of holiday preparations, taking care of the puppies (who are NOT into the snow that just fell here, and have just recovered from a stomach bug), wrapping up wedding thank you notes, and maybe squeezing in a little time with my wife and our roommate. I'll make it work, but updates are still gonna be a little slow for a while. I appreciate your patience! I swear I'll make it pay off! After all, I'm gonna be a financial planner! Haha, get it? Pay off? Ugh. I know. I'm sorry.