Chance Meeting
Scyther looked all around, searching for its opponent. The sun was setting through the trees, blocking one direction of sight quite firmly. Unless blindness was an acceptable option. The pokemon thought that unwise, shifting its head away from the westerly direction. Purple blind spots danced in its eyes all the same, and in the dim light it was difficult to see. As vision returned slowly, Scyther paused, beady black eyes darting from corner to corner of the forest. Scraggly underbrush surrounded the entire area. It could easily hide anything, but it was also dry enough that it would make crashing sounds if anyone tried. Trees, mostly pines and other evergreens, but here was an oak. And in front of it the boy. The boy who had been in the way, and knocked the bug over. A smug little smirk tugged at the corners of the human's mouth, cocky enough for a Pinsir. Dark hair covered his deep blue eyes messily, yet Scyther could read them well enough. They were familiar. The eyes of a vengeful hunter who could not lose. Hah! Nothing to fear? Not so long as this pokemon held its steel. With still no sign of the boy's missing pokemon, Scyther set itself grimly, ready to charge the offender. As it bent its legs though, preparing to spring, the boy opened his mouth, and uttered something softly. A command? Quickly Scyther shifted gears, searching again for an attack from any direction. Neither sight nor sound nor smell of an enemy was there that it could find though, so the pokemon turned back to the boy. And reeled.
From out of nowhere, a deep bass gong rang out, seemingly right next to Scyther's head. It was loud enough to disorient the pokemon, and it staggered even as the sound began to fade away, screwing eyes shut and trying to do the same with ears. This time the pulsing spots that flitted around when the pokemon opened its eyes again were red. In fact, the entire area seemed to have taken on a reddish tinge, flooded with the last rays of sunlight. And there was the beginnings of a fog, or maybe a mist. It was hard to tell in this light. As the sound of the gong receded, a new one began to swell, taking its place, but much more slowly. A low chant, nearly as low as the preceding ringing, started just at the edge of hearing. Arcane, and indecipherable, it was. One precipitously high note held in an invisible singer's voice, while the rest went on to repeat themselves. That note faded in and out, on average growing stronger every minute though. The red trees, they pulsed too, in time to the mystic sounds, and the color drew in on itself as well, throbbing into the droplets hanging in the air, until the rest of the area were as they had been, without red, and concentrated blood-red mist surrounded Scyther, still beating, almost menacingly to the chanting. The highest note began to trill, quavering unsteadily, and the mist followed, shivering in dusk light, giving off more light than the air, and flooding slowly inward. Slowly, slowly, a shape formed, a diffuse ring of crimson surrounding the wary bug pokemon. An air of spinning laid about the ring, keeping rhythm with the chant, which had finally relinquished its highest note. Perhaps the singer had run out of breath, wherever he was located. In the mean time, the main melody-if it could be called that-continued its swell, growing stronger by the second. The ring drew in too, concentrating until pinpoints where the glowing color was far brighter than elsewhere were easily distinguishable. They made patterns surrounding Scyther, some unholy runes from long ago. The chanting words seemed each to tie into one symbol, resonating positively with itself. And so the song circled round its target just as the red mist did, all the while contracting inwards, an inexorable net. Instinctively the bug shrank back from the light, trying to duck under it and escape, but before it could more than bend knee, there were suddenly two rings where before existed only one, at angles from one another, writhing up and down even as the arcane symbols spun 'round. They closed in rapidly, till there was not any room to move without touching it, chant pounding in Scyther's ears. Pulse, expand outward, and the edges of the rings touched green exoskeleton. The gong struck again. Pain. It laced up the pokemon's limbs, a blinding fire of the nervous system, shutting out everything in an excruciating moment. Scyther's eyes squeezed shut, but it felt rather than saw more red, pulled out of itself to join the mist. No lines appeared, of more crimson running down to stain the green, nor was the source any one spot, but that red had been reinforced anyway from all over the body, to pulse more strongly than before.
Strangely enough, the mist seemed to withdraw a bit, giving the bug room to stagger a bit and replant unsteady feet. It was either that or fall. As another round of red spots receded from the black eyes squinting in the eerie light, Scyther could finally see again. The first thing to meet its gaze was the boy. There was no bestial grin or feral snarl painting his face, merely a smug little smirk, and a wrinkle in his brow beneath the mess of hair, of impatience? The brat was impatient that the pokemon was wasting so much of his time? The impunity! And he wasn't even paying attention now, to his weak and incapacitated opponent. A very different kind of red filled Scyther's gaze, and it unconsciously flexed the blades on the end of each arm. How dare he? Without pause, the bug flung itself forward, crashing through the misty barrier that had snapped back in. More searing pain engulfed it, but momentum kept it going. Straight towards the boy, scythes outstretched.
Omar watching the pokemon impassively. Of course, he could not see the full effects, and had always wondered what exactly it was that the victim felt from the curse. Not quite strongly enough to turn it on himself experimentally, though. Still, it was worth noting the reaction, absorbing it fully to himself and distilling the raw feeling to words that would wretch to any soul. Hopefully, anyway. The flinch away from initial contact was superb, a study of carnal fear; a cornered creature. A smile came unbidden as he concentrated on the mood, confident he'd found something good to remember. But now that he had everything necessary, Omar tapped his foot slightly, anxious to be onward. He needed to find a place to stay for the night, far away enough from Scyther that it would not chase him if and when it revived. He did not relish another encounter, especially if he got taken by surprise. A Scyther's eyes weren't legendary for night vision, yet they were most likely still better than his. Certainly it was faster and stealthier. Could he count on his pokemon to keep watch? After all this exertion it might decide to shirk its duties again, just like last night. Lazy bum. In any case, the pokemon ought to be on its last legs by now, and good riddance. Daylight was slipping away. Just on the brink of looking up to check, the boy heard a thumping, and blinked his deep blue eyes, almost black in this light. Maybe that was the bug falling right now. Blowing hair out of his face he looked up, and stumbled backwards, eyes wide as they would go, mouth opened in horror. Tripping on the roots of the tree behind him, Omar fell hard against the bark, and it scraped off the skin of his hands and neck. His timing narrowly delayed decapitation. "Night Shade!" he yelled out in a shrill, high voice, barely able to think of calling protection. Scyther drew itself up, one blade like a headsman's axe, and was swiftly enveloped in a binding darkness. It roiled as the pokemon struggled to break free, here an arm flailing about but always soon engulfed once more. It pulsed, and hummed, like a living creature, and a hungry one at that. It ifed./i Perhaps it would consume the pokemon in its entirety. Omar used the chance to scramble back away on his back, then hurriedly get to his feet a safe distance away. Scyther had broken free once, and he didn't want to take the chance twice. Although the struggles seemed to be getting weaker, since the area of darkness no longer bulged at the seams. The irregular movements slowed too, so maybe it was finally finished. Omar didn't care. He was panting heavily, and trying to remove leaves and pine needles from his hair. So long as the thing finally left him alone, before he had a heart attack many years too young, he didn't care whether it died or fled.
"STOP!" The cry rang out from the silent trees, shattering the quiet. It was only then Omar realized exactly how quiet the whole affair had been. Even the wild flailings of Scyther had made nearly no sound. Drawn like a magnet, his gaze swiveled to a figure crashing through the trees. A boy, perhaps a year older than himself, or merely very tall for his age. He jumped over a bush as if it were a hurdle, and continued running forward without breaking stride. Fumbling at a bag swinging wildly across his back, he seemed to be looking for something. All the while he kept shouting to cease and desist the horrible torture of an innocent pokemon, or something like that. It was a little hard to make out individual words. Nevertheless, by the time he'd closed half the distance between his starting shout and his target, he managed to pull something out of the bag without strewing the rest of the contents in a long line across the forest. It was small, neatly concealed in his hand, but as Omar watched, nonplussed and a little too shocked to do anything, it expanded to a spherical shape about the size of his hand. A pokeball. With a cut-off yell Omar stagger back further; he had no more intentions of grappling with pokemon himself any longer today. But the brilliant line of red light yielded no new opponent for him to face. Instead, it whished across the forest, weaving through trees to pierce the pulsing darkness, which promptly dissipated. Scyther appeared momentarily, shocked beyond reason and panting more heavily than either human, before it turned red, glowed, and disappeared, back down the line of fire, leaving sparkling motes in the air that had been more. The boy finally skidded to a halt in front of the other, grabbing a tree trunk to keep from overshooting, or falling flat on his face.
Omar blinked and shut his eyes, night vision ruined by the dazzling light. He concentrated on regaining it now, for it was well and truly night. While still rubbing at his head, he heard another shout, much nearer, and loud enough to make him wince. "What do you think you're doing to my pokemon?" Deciding there was no hope for his eyes for a while, Omar dug in his bag for a flashlight, very nearly dislodging the metal plate among his things. Turning it on, he swung about, pointing it in the face of the newcomer. Let him blink in the sudden light. The beam revealed a boy, as he'd thought, with close-cut coppery hair, brushing out from underneath his gray baseball cap. His eyes were a pale color, washy-looking, and too close to tell whether they were green or blue, but either worked. A dozen or so freckles brushed the boy's inner cheeks, looking out of place on the lanky face, blinking unsteadily in the bright light. One awkward hand came up to shield his eyes, blocking out a small nose. It was too dark to see his other clothing clearly, except that he wore unremarkable shirt and pants. Despite the extra near-foot of height he had, it was not a very imposing presence. Omar nearly laughed. He was no longer afraid at all, and the extra adrenaline from two close encounters with death in quick succession made him want to throw back his head and laugh that he was still alive. He managed to quash the giddy euphoria though, and turn a stern face towards his companion. Not that he could probably see it anyway.
"What I have done is defended myself against something that tried to slice my head off. And what kind of a trainer are you, letting your pokemon run that far away from you? I'm holding you responsible." The older boy blinked uncertainly; he had been nowhere to see what had happened. He must know his own pokemon's psychotic ways, and those washed-out eyes confirmed it as they began filling with doubt. The nerve to accuse Omar like that. But that was a trainer's way, always supporting their pokemon even against reason. He could not be expected to do anything else. "As for your menace's condition, you need not worry. The Curse did not take full enough effect to do lasting damage." He spoke crisply and coldly, like a banker he had heard when following his mother to deposit money once.
The boy started and scrubbed at his face once more, blinking against the light. "Curse?" he asked, eyes going wide, "You some kind of witch or something?" He looked rather afraid given the ridiculous question. Omar blinked once in surprise. Then he did begin to laugh, nearly doubling over, and dropping the beam of light. His ribs shook so that they nearly pained him, and still he laughed, on and on. The other boy, trying to see, stumbled forward a pace and stared approximately in his direction. Did this mean he was a witch, and surprised at being found out? Was he going to kill him? Frowning worriedly, he flinched back as the light swung back into his eyes, and beyond, to point at the branches of one of the trees.
"Come out, lazy bones!" the younger boy called, barely able to speak for the gales of laughter that still swarmed within him. The flashlight wobbled exaggeratedly on the tree; he steadied it with his other hand. In the pale circle of light, something moved, though you could not really say what. Just a shifting of the empty darkness, at the most. But it coalesced into something more, a darkness that the flashlight could not pierce, or even lessen. It kept vague and irregular shape, shifting as it glided downwards in the beam, obedient to its call. He shook, for all that the thing did not directly approach him. The boy who'd assaulted his pokemon was a witch, and he commanded the shades to descend and take care of him too! What had he gotten into? He could not take his eyes off the shadow. Suddenly, when it was right above his head, he realized that it had stopped, and two lighter spots of the darkness seemed to be facing him. They looked disconcertingly like eyes, glowing dimly and staring hungrily at him. He quivered. He was going to be cursed just like poor Scyther, and there was no one there to rescue him. He never even thought of pokemon. How could they defend against vengeful ghosts and a witch-boy to strengthen them? In his fear-ramblings the boy barely noticed the shadow growing even heavier, and taking on a defined shape. Large hands seemed to form and reach out with sharp claws towards him. He cowered. A cackling began, shrill and keening, carrying a full load of insanity. Those eye shapes seemed to glow even more, red and bloody. And the shadow became no longer black, but now a deepest purple color. It stopped expanding, in a recognizable shape. A Haunter, cackling its head off, as if it had more than head and hands. Just like its master below it. The beam of light shook more and more along with him. He felt embarrassed, and felt his cheeks flush. Not just a ghost, but a ghost pokemon! It was still an uneasy thing, but at least more acceptable. Scrambling up to his full height-the boy had been cringing down-he met with more howling laughter, ears brighter red than his hair. He stood with as much dignity as he could manage, and waited for it to end, doing his best to glare. It took some long minutes before the peals finally died down, but when they did, the witch-boy straightened, and his pokemon floated down to rest on his shoulder. They both still grinned at him though. It was the master that spoke. "Ah, you are a funny guy…" he said weakly, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. "Just that is more than worth being assaulted. My name is Omar."
He nodded nervously, being as polite as possible. "My name is Arrion, Omar. Are you really sure you're not a witch?" He darted a quick look at the pokemon half-obscured by dark messy hair. It only produced more hooting laughter though, and Arrion flinched from it distastefully. "Anyway," he went on, eager to avoid any more ridicule-boys have their pride after all-"I'm sorry if my Scyther attacked you. It's got a big temper…" his mouth twisted sourly. No response, the two were still laughing, apparently not even hearing him. "What are you doing out here, anyway, Omar? This is kinda deep in the woods" Not some deep arcane witch ritual of sacrifice, he hoped.
It made them stop laughing though, or Omar at least. He looked up, a twinkle still in his eye, but did not laugh again. "It's actually not that far from the road," he responded lightly. "I was traveling along it-I'm going to the Lustre League-when I got interrupted by a battle. Though I did expect it to be with a wild pokemon, not a half-wild trained one. In any case, you seem familiar enough with this area not to trip over your feet. Do you happen to know a good campsite for the night?" He eyed Arrion with those deep blue eyes, like glittering sapphires, and just as hard as a stone as well. They were serious now.
Lustre League? The very same? Was he going to hex it somehow? No matter how many times he laughed it off, Omar had never said plainly that he was not a witch. A superstitious person, Arrion felt rather uneasy around him. "Well, yeah, I guess. There's a good enough place a bit to the north. Y'know, I'm going to the Lustre League too. Maybe we could go together? I promise my Scyther won't make trouble…." After some consideration, Omar nodded.
So saying, the two returned to the road first to retrieve Omar's scooter, before making their way through to the campsite. It was fairly good, with shelter from the wind in the thick trees and underbrush, though a little hard to get into the circle of plants. The boys spread out their sleeping bags within the hollow. It was a little uncomfortable for Arrion, still afraid Omar was a witch, but they managed to make it through the night with no other incidents. In the morning they ate a feast of energy bars and chocolate-Arrion seemed able to cook, and even had his own pans, but claimed to be no good at breakfast-and packed up and found the path before the sun got very high. Omar got a call from his mother, calling to make sure he was okay and discuss other details of his leaving. They talked while walking his scooter on the path. Eventually he managed to convince her that he was neither crazy nor merely irresponsible, nor was he running from some kind of trouble. She wanted to talk more then, but he managed to get her to get off the phone by claiming low batteries. So passed two weeks in the wood, and on the subsequent road. The biggest issue was trying to convince Arrion that he was not actually a witch; the boy didn't ever seem to believe it. Because of that, he didn't manage to learn much about his companion beyond a great deal of superstition. They managed to get work at one farm passed, helping out with labor. It got them a hot meal, a bed, and some non-processed food to take with them. Other than that they saw little if any signs of humanity.
Finally, walking tiredly, with a great deal of food gone, Omar and Arrion finally reached the town Lustre, named for the pokemon league it hosted. It was a small town, and a little empty. With about a week left before the league preliminaries began, most people hadn't arrived quite yet. The buildings were predominantly hotels and restaurants, with a decent sprinkling of tourist stands. The two walked up the streets, towards the large anterior building in front of the stadium arena. Only one person was out and about so far this morning. Was it too early for those that did live here? The figure, changed to a shadow by the rising sun, turned towards them, and then started walking forward. Squinting ahead, Omar tried to make out who it was, or at least whether they were male or female. When he finally recognized her though, his jaw dropped. "Sereih?" Omar asked incredulously, nearly in a whisper.
"Who's that?" Arrion asked curiously, tilting his head to the side.