Author's note: Hey all! Apologies for the long wait. Just wanted to mention I decided to change up the story summary a bit, since its had some time to develop. Think this should be a better fit. Now, without further adieu…
"Alright-uh… my turn. Hmm. I think I got another one, from back when I had more skin than scales. See, there's this Scorupi and Whiscash, and the Scorupi wants to cross a river—"
A bitter gust of wind shut Chimera's mouth, sending a torrent of rain cascading against his side. The Zorua next to him fared little better, with black and crimson paws long coated from the muddy soil below. Only moonlight guided them along the winding road, as well as Cerise's steady gaze as they trudged forward. For a second, she glanced over, gesturing for him to go on. The Bagon returned her tepid smile, though even she couldn't hide her quivering form. Whether from the cold, or what lied ahead, Chimera never knew.
"So," Chimera continued, "the Scorupi's all like 'Hey, mind if I have a lift through that river?', but the Whiscash shakes his head."
His voice lowered two octaves, staring ahead in an imitative frown.
"'Now just why would I do that?' the Whiscash replied. "'The moment I let you on my back, you're going to sting me.'"
The Bagon's tone raised back up, almost to a squeal. Cerise opened her maw in response, as if to mouth the words, only to stop at the last moment.
"'Now jussssst why, in Thundurusssss's beard would I do that?' the Scorupi said back. ``If I ssssssting you, we'll both drown and perish."
Biting her lip, Cerise let out a small chuckle. She was half tempted to close her eyes and summon right behind Chimera visages of the dozen or so pokemon that could maybe match his accent (none of them Scorupi), but she stayed her paw; the storm seemed only getting worse, best to save what energy they had.
"What'd he do?" Cerise asked, tone a mock innocence.
"He let the Scorupi on his back," Chimera replied. "Lil guy hopped on, and they got just about halfway across the river when… wham!"
For added effect, Chimera clapped his hands together. Not a second afterwards, a bolt of lightning crackled through the sky, lighting up the road ahead. After almost falling backward, Chimera looked toward the nearly as shocked Cerise. He then glanced to his hands, before giving a half chuckle.
"I guess Thunderous is a bit peeved at your voice acting," Cerise said, quivering a bit less as she smiled.
"I wouldn't blame him," Chimera replied. "Anyway, I was just—yes, so while the Whiscash and Scorupi are dying in the lake, the Whiscash is like 'Dude, what the hell? Why'd you do that?'"
A beat of silence. Chimera shook his cape, letting the amassed rain slide off. The atmosphere was there, but at times like these, he half wished for a flashlight to point up at his head.
"'Why not?' the Scorupi answered back, taking its last, fleeting breath, 'It's—'"
"It'sssss in my nature," Cerise finished.
A blink, from Bagon to Zorua. Before Chimera could ask, Cerise stepped forward to take the lead on the trail, gaze to the floor.
"I-I… remembered it while you were halfway through," Cerise said, tone lowering to a whisper. "Was one of the human tales Dad used to read me in my early studies. He never was good at bed time stories. Would probably butcher 'The Torkoal and the Scorbunny' if he tried, but—w-wait, I think this is it."
It was a tedious process circling the outskirts of the work farm, but one that put them in sight of their goal. With the mud below, and the moonlit trees above, nothing stood in the way of the ramshackle collection of sheds in the center of the farm. Nothing but a few hundred feet of nearly flooded farmland, some barbed wire fences that would be easy enough to cross, and a few guard towers. Their searchlights cut through the rain and air, crisscrossing in search of any Pallid unfortunate or daring enough to be caught in the open past curfew. Taking a deep breath, Chimera took a knee at Cerise's side. Getting himself into the maximum security facility would be an easy feat. The thirteenfold convicted thief and daughter to his boss? Not so much.
"Guess it is," Chimera replied, scanning the watchtowers in the distance. "I… think I should be able to buy you some time. Won't seem too suspicious that the co-manager of East Faire's exports decided to drop in for a little surprise inspection of the security staff, starting at the southern wall. You sure you're up for this alone?"
Cerise nodded, taking great care that her pouch was tucked under her belly and shielded from the elements.
"No doubt. I can't thank you enough for all your help, Chimera, but… I've gotta handle this final step alone. Well, me and So—you get what I'm saying. This shouldn't take more than ten minutes, if everything goes to plan. Broken into museum storerooms that would make this place seem like Drenched Bluff."
She took a step forward, beginning to skulk towards the line of watchtowers in the distance, jutting up from row upon row of berry shrubs and wheat fields. Just before her shadowed form disappeared between the crop lines, she looked back. Chimera had set his own course towards the familiar main facility.
"A-and Chimera—"
A turn. He looked back, gesturing her to go on.
"I'm… sorry, for making you see all that between me and Dad. Can't imagine we made you very comfortable in that spot."
The Bagon sat still, eyes half open in the downpour. Though her own paws were already starting to feel numb, the toothy grin that slowly took to his maw was a welcome warmth.
"Can't say I'd wanna live it again, but I guess sometimes just call for a little father daughter reunion. From what Argon's told me with her Dad, you still got some stiff competition if you're shooting for awkward moments. Could even throw our hat in the ring, if we're still on for dinner tonight."
"If this goes our way," Cerise replied, "then the night won't be over before I get to show you the best Basculin meunière in town. At least if they're out of stun seeds."
From the look from Bagon to Zorua, they could have kept the banter up all night, but they had a job to do. After a final exchange of good luck, Cerise disappeared beneath the stalks, while Bagon in the distance came out of view. It was child's play skulking through the fields, more inconvenienced by the occasional root or jagged rock across her path than the threat of anyone spotting. About a hundred feet away from the line of guard towers, Cerise paused. A few minutes later, and one by one, the once scanning lights halted. She could see their faint outlines in the distance. A Marowak climbing down from the tower, irritated at an inspection at this hour of the night. Just a few feet in front, a Deerling, more thankful for having something to break up the monotony than anything.
"Not bad, Chimera," Cerise whispered, taking a preparatory breath. "Guess it's my turn."
Had there been anyone to notice, it was up in the air whether they would have. It was barely a mirage that slinked across to the sheds. Just a tinge of darkness. An empty moving spot where the moonlight reflected a bit less than usual. Before long, Cerise was as the central shed. It wasn't much to look at, with a construction that likely had to nibble the scraps of the Guild Hall's budget. Pressing her ear against one of the cracks in the wall, she heard only a few droning snores.
"Right under here," Cerise mumbled. "It's right under here. You'll be back soon, Mom. Just gotta get through this little detour first."
With one last glance behind her, Cerise cracked open the door. She took her time, weary of any alarming creak or groan from the foundation that would spoil everything. The bitter chill of rain against her mane relented, replaced by a pitter patter from the dilapidated roof. So far, so good.
The lodgings themselves were surprisingly empty. Just a few pallids lined the slipshod, shelf like beds. A grey Weavile and Mightyena resting in the corners. An equally monochrome Stoutland snoozing by the door. Where was everyone? Cerise was about to take a step forward when her paw froze, fur on her back standing up on end.
Pull yourself together. This just makes the job easier. Too late to back out now.
She held her breath, while the sound of rain mixed in with the low, hoarse snoozes around her. Though her fur was no less startled, Cerise made her way to the center of the room. Tracing a paw across the ground, she let a soft gasp when the floorboards aligned a bit too loosely.
Is… is this—
The Zorua's smile faded once she'd lifted the board. A secret compartment, to be sure, but… pamphlets? No dice. She'd need to dig deeper. What the cathole did do, however, was uncover the dirt underneath. Cerise felt like a pokemon with their paws in the cookie jar as she slowly dug. Only, what she was grappling with was a stuck, stubborn jar that refused to show its contents with every pawful of dirt she dug up. With a sizable pile next to her, Cerise let out a scoff. Her father was probably watching from the marble balcony overlooking the work farm, laughing like a Wooloo over the sheet he'd pulled over his daughter's—
Tink.
Her eyes shot open. Barely visible under a layer of sand, there it was. Another minute of her paws scraping against the dirt, and it was in hand. Faded. Rusted beyond belief. Barely bigger than a lunch box, and yet enough that her whole form seemed to tremble. She held the steel container gently, as if lifting up a corpse from a grave; It took a second to get rid of the thought of what that made her.
The lid nearly fell off as Cerise unlatched it. Behind it all, however, as dry and preserved as the day it'd been left, was the true treasure. Her paws were a flash grasping for the sizable, leatherbound journal within. It had a familiar look, only twenty years less weathered than its counterparts. Just as Cerise set the journal onto the floor, her head tilted.
It hadn't been alone. Hiding under where the book had been in the time capsule, she spotted what looked like two scarves. One a shining gold, the other a radiant green, the cloths remained tied together at the end, even with corners singed, shocked, and threadbare. In truth, there was only a bit of color left on the former, the rest either lost to time, or faded into a smoky grey. Wracking her thoughts, Cerise's muzzle scrunched up.
Is that… no. Focus.
Time seemed to slow as Cerise opened the first page. She found her thoughts heavy, seeing from the backside of the cover a familiar picture taped on. Girafarig on one side, Zoroark on the other, egg in the center; happier times, but they couldn't be as lost as the two-face wanted her to believe. Directly under were two ink prints, a hoof and paw respectively. As she looked over to read the next page, Cerise held her breath; she wouldn't mistake that handwriting for the world.
Introduction
In all likelihood, Honey, our manes will be old and gray by the time we settle down to read these memoirs, but I hold that seeing the good we've done, and will do for the beings of Faire will do just as much to keep our memory fresh. Years spent exploring this wonderous region at each other's side, dungeons traversed, communities built up, days upon weeks spent compiling this swanna song, and yet… I still look at raising this egg at our side, so full of life and limitless possibilities, as the greatest challenge and thrill that we'll face. You've always watched my back (and your own, if that tail of yours has anything to say), and—
"You're not with them, are you?"
The low, gruff voice crawled over her neck. She whipped around, inadvertently kicking the journal back. By the time Cerise had met eyes with the Stoutland across the room, she'd nearly jumped out of her own fur. His eyes were fierce yet steady against the moonlight, with more than enough curiosity to match her own.
"W-what do you mean?" Cerise replied, firming her stance to the Pallid. "I'm… I'm here on my own business. Was just about to gather my things and get out of all your hair."
Piolu's response was a gruff grunt, while his furry, three-pronged brow furrowed. The Stoutland looked as if playing scrabble, trying to find where exactly a new piece fit.
"Don't got a reason not to believe that," he responded. "Long since memorized the guards, and even if you were one, you'd be flaunting a badge. Besides, they'd have been a bit different finding our little library under the floorboards. Name's Piolu, by the way. Light sleeper if you haven't noticed. Just hope you've decent grounds for being here."
There it was again. A slight waver in the Pallid's countenance. Insignificant by most standards, but enough to goad Cerise to step back. She held her ground, however, looking the Stoutland over. As the moon lifted over its clouds, the nicks, burns, and many years of his mane went into view.
"Cerise," she whispered back, looking down to pick her words. "I came here to dig up a time capsule I'm interested in. Doesn't have anything to do with you, those pamphlets, or anyone here. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to, you probably don't want me here either, so this'll be a lot easier for the both of us if… if… "
Cerise's voice fell. Piolu had broken eye contact. His gaze lowered, though it wasn't until Cerise saw his target that a deep chill ran up her paws. Barely a foot or so in front of Cerise, cover opened and clear for all to see, was the journal. She opened her maw, only to freeze up seeing the Stoutland's perturbed squint. A Zoroark and Girafarig, upside down from his angle, but unmistakable nonetheless. For a half second, she was tempted to illusion the whole page away, but the damage was done.
Silence. Cerise crouched down, already planning a sprint to the door barely a foot from Piolu. The Stoutland's mind worked a mile a minute, combing his memory over the months of planning and labor until a single point dawned. All at once, his eyes widened.
"'More unique ties to our foe than we originally imagined'," Piolu whispered. "I've been mulling over what that Charmander meant when he said that for months, and now… "
Another crack of lightning rippled across the sky, with a barrage of rain that pounded against the ceiling. Just as Cerise primed to move, Piolu looked back up, taking a step closer to the door. His snout scrunched up, eyes glazed over in thought. Just barely, Cerise caught something else on the Stoutland's otherwise deadpan face; the start of a grin, though cloaked back in shadows once the moonlight shifted.
"Cerise," Piolu said with a corse, morbid tone, "do you have any idea how many pallids they have locked up here?"
She knew a poker face when she saw one. The Zorua took her own step toward the door, while scooping the journal into her bag.
"It must be—"
"Thousands," Piolu finished, matter of fact. "Thousands of souls. Thousands of pallids forced to break our bodies shifting through the dirt with lean stomachs, clipped wings, and shabby hooves because the pokemon of Faire couldn't be assed to do the work themselves."
He let out a half chuckle, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. On instinct, the Pallid covered his snout with one of his paws. Or… what was left of it, at least. As the limb met a stray beam of moonlight, Cerise only now noticed the scab of flesh in place of his front paw.
"That, or protectin' the ego of a single two face," Piolu added, with another listless laugh. "Don't think I'm going out on a limb on that one. 'Nother question, Cerise: Do you think he really gives a damn about us? About any of us?"
A day ago, Cerise could have spouted the answer like a Durant asked the same of a Heatmor. However, something held her back. Silence punctuated the room, with only the voices of a Girafarig, Bagon, and Fennekin to occupy her thoughts.
"He never said to me why he built this place," Cerise replied, "but I think I know. I-I don't like him anymore than you, and I don't think this is right, but… let's just say he's lost his fair share to nature."
She turned away, eyes drooping.
"A lot of pokemon have," Cerise finished.
The Stoutland tilted his head, pausing for a second. With every bit to ponder, his snout only crinkled more.
"The pompous assface can cry us a river for all I care. What's important, is that I can count on my one paw the number of pokemon out there who would lift their eyes from the bread and circuses to think about a bunch of grey beings asking for basic decency. Nothin' some newspapers, avians with pictures, or a single Raichu can do to stop that. There's only one pokemon on Faire who can finally give us what we deserve, and right now he'd rather fill graveyards than upset his perfect world."
Another flash of lightning lit up the cabin. There was no crack, however, only a sudden thud that took its place as Piolu slammed his hoof against the floor. Cerise jolted up, suddenly sensing more than one set of groggy eyes staring at her. The Mightyena in the corner peered its eyes open, as did the Weavile. The former let out a whimpered growl, staring to the Stoutland for explanation. Cerise was little inclined to wait that long.
"I'm leaving," she said, fangs bared under a snarl. "Just step aside, and things don't have to get—"
"No, they don't," Piolu interrupted, giving a careful glance to Mightyena and Weavile. "'Case you don't know, Cerise, we've been planning a little independence march. We're all prepared to fight and die if and when the two-face sends his army out to slaughter us, but… "
The Mightyena and Weavile looked to each other, then to the intruding Zorua, before ending at Piolu. Unsaid words rang clear through their ears with the Stoutland's connotation. Neither smiled, their faces pale and nearly apologetic knowing what had to come next.
"Well Cerise," Piolu said, tone matching the air's chill, "I'm willing to bet he'll be a lot more… respectful, if he knew that spillin' even a drop of pallid blood will cause his daughter the same. We've spent our whole life trapped in this prison, it's not unfair to have a week, maybe a month of your time, wouldn't you say?"
The Zorua could scarcely reply with her worst fears realized. The Mightyena gave an approving snarl, as his own splintered claws scraped against the floor. She didn't have time to think before her other flank faced the shadowed, glowing claw of the waiting Weavile. Surrounded on three sides, she had only her heated thoughts to counter the Stoutland's cold stare.
"Y-you're wasting your time," she shot back. "Dad and I… aren't exactly on good terms. He probably wants me locked up more than you do. The only thing you gain kidnapping me is a liability."
A moment's pause. Piolu's fur crest furrowed in thought, only to follow with a nonchalant tilt of his head.
"If you're lying then, Cerise, we've still got a lot to gain. If you're tellin' the truth, we've got nothing to lose."
He took a step forward, closing the gap once the Mightyena and Weavile did likewise. Cerise's legs felt weak. Her mind was a metronome. On one end, the ticking desire to somehow find a way around the Stoutland and run as far away from the cursed work farm as possible. On the other, a seething energy inside her to spring forward and claw his face off. Both the past and present coalesced, into a piercing, fiery stare from Cerise to Piolu.
"You'll never change, will you?" Cerise said, desperately trying to sense which pallid would strike first. "Guess I should have known that a long time ago. Here or any dungeon, it's all the same."
Piolu only huffed, words as impactful as against a wall.
"We're fighting for a better tomorrow, Cerise. You can tell me how it looks from the moral high ground after you've lived behind the barbed wire for twenty five years. Might take a bit of time for the Charmander, Raichu, and the rest of the pallids here to come around, but… with vigor in our hearts, and righteousness in our cause, we push on."
"Thank you all again for coming. I-I… I know we've each taken our own risk being here."
It was dark in the outermost shed of the pallid living quarters, more by necessity than anything. Rain thudded against the roof like a distant jackhammer, occasionally seeping through the cracks of the rusted shingles to drop on Argon's head. The air was humid. Thicker than usual, so much so that she couldn't tell whether her paws were sweating naturally, or from the dozen or so sets of eyes staring at her. Maybe that, or the Bagon no doubt waiting patiently at their apartment, wondering when his Raichu companion would return from her supposed 'midnight date' with a certain Charmander.
Colorful and grey eyes alike looked back at Argon in the cramped room. Mantine, Staraptor, even a Cramorant among other avians, carefully handpicked over the past months. A mutual, unspoken sense of apprehension filled the room as two Talonflame looked each other over in the audience. This was the first time the former had seen its clipped, monochrome counterpart in anything other than a Raichu's equally greyscale photos. Likewise, the Pallid Talonflame tilted its head while Argon cleared her throat, having its first sight of the dozen or so other pokemon of Faire they were somewhat sure had similar goals.
"W-we're only going to have one shot at this," Argon continued. "Getting all the pallids out of here is challenging enough, but unless we can show all the pokemon of Faire the suffering here, and that they're not alone in wanting change, then this is all for naught. That's where you all come i—"
Whatever grand posture Argon had mustered melted away, feeling the warm scales of a Charmander wrap itself around her legs. She let out a quick yelp, while the Pallid gave its own yip of approval. From its wide, feral eyes, it was a bit hard to tell what he was approving, but Argon smiled back nonetheless. Its flickering flame may not have lit up the room, but the faint glow emanating from the Pallid's exploration bag did the job just as well.
"I think it likes ya," Catalina said, her large flipper covering up a smirk. "First pallid I've seen that's a snugglemander."
Argon giggled, finding a brief reprieve in tension from the staring audience. She shuffled in a halfhearted attempt to move the Charmander, to little avail.
"You have no idea," Argon replied. "He… should be back to his usual self any moment now. I-It's a long story."
For a moment, Talonflame and Talonflame seemed united in equal parts confusion. Nonetheless, neither pokemon nor pallid of the crowd interrupted Argon as she shuffled over to a nearby crate. With a psychic flick, the lid nearly burst open. Packed together inside like a pile of autumn leaves were stacks upon stacks of photos nearly fresh off of the darkroom. Argon had a practised paw taking hold of the select bundle; Their value to the mission ahead dwarfed the small fortune it took to get every one of the slips developed.
"T-These will be your map for the big day," Argon said, levitating one birds eye photo a piece to each avian. "Timing, routes, everything has to be perfect for the airdrop to happen once all the pallids arrive at Pith Town. And… Sapeur."
A spark of electricity was the response, between two shards of rocks that jutted out from the crowd. Both Pallid and Pokemon in the crowd dispersed in record time, neither wanting to get hit by the lumbering steps of the grey Golem. Argon herself nearly jumped up with every shake of the floorboards as he approached.
"We're almost done widening the tunnel as far as she'll go, Ms.," Sapeur said, trying (somewhat successfully), to stroke his magnetic beard with each stubby hand. "Took a lot of lost sleep from a lot of good pallids, but once the big day comes, shouldn't be any trouble bringing all of us to freedom."
"Weren't for them," Catalina added, "and to get here I'd'a had to spend a lot more time laying off the fried Remor... "
The Mantine realized her faux pass just a second too late. She looked around, about to hastily mention her newfound vegetarian diet, though none of the Pallids seemed intent on pressing the issue; Small fry it seemed, with what was to come.
"Right," Argon replied, clearing her throat just a bit too quickly. "T-thank you, Sapeur. Thank you, everyone. We'll have about a month of practice till the big day. Until then, we'll—"
A thundering crash broke through the rainfall. Initially, Argon turned back, waiting for a lightning flash to follow. Others soon followed, only to hear another deafening slam, along with the crack of splintering wood.
"What… what was…"
Argon blinked, then blinked again, finding the familiar voice a much different tone than her inner monologue. She looked down to meet the wide, equally incredulous eyes of Eoin. A moment passed between Raichu and Charmander, the latter too shocked to realize he was still nestled around her legs.
A scream was next. Not any scream either recognized, but most definitely in pain. Argon's ears twitched as shock turned to urgency. They had to move.
"Where is it—how?" Eoin asked.
No one had an easy answer. All Eoin knew was the direction of the call, and from there, its unexplainable source.
He was the first out of the door, with Argon fast behind. After a few exchanged glances, Sapeur hobbled likewise, with both pallid and pokemon Talonflame in tow. Eoin gritted his teeth as the first gust of wind spat rain onto his scales and tail, reflecting against the faint, azure glow of his pouch. Whether empathy from her own soaked fur, or simple reflex, Argon levitated her own tail above the Charmander's flame. A flash caught their eyes, localized to the shed a dozen meters away, in the center of the shantytown.
"Piolu is in there!" Eion shouted, scales getting soaked in the muddy ground. "Others too. They should be lying low if any guards investigated. We only have a minute before—"
The Pallid looked up, not so much stressed by what he saw, but what he didn't. The usual line of guard towers were speckled in the distance, but the closest ones held search beams completely still. Absent too were the usual first responders, rushing forward with bared claws, sharpened fangs, and shining badges.
Instead, Raichu and Charmander had free reign as they sped to the door. The voices were getting clearer now, along with another anguished cry. Even with their ears against the walls, it sounded more like a whimper than anything. With a cold, quivering claw, Eoin opened the door.
"P-Piolu? Are you in there?" Argon asked.
"We heard the commotion, and came to—gods… "
She'd fought well. Scuffs, scratches, and splinters lined the shed. On one corner, the unconscious body of a Mightyena, fur singed from umbric fire and claws. On the other, was a Weavile, equally inert, and covered with a desperate array of bite marks.
Eoin's eyes grew wide trying to sputter out a sentence. Turning to the back of the room, he found little help. On the ground, with what looked like a few cracked ribs, and a paw bent in a way not natural for any pokemon, was a Zorua. The Zorua. A grey, clawed paw was pressing against her chest, its owner a Stoutland nearly equally contused. His breaths were labored, glaring deadset towards the unconscious Zorua. It wasn't until he saw the faint light of the door, that he turned to meet Eoin and Argon. He made to speak, only to let out a few last, hacking coughs. Regaining his posture, the Stoutland looked to Eoin with a hint of pride.
"It's good to see you two," Piolu said, gesturing with his head to the defeated Zorua. "Didn't expect the guildmaster's daughter to have that much fire in her, but I think now we got all the leverage we need for the big day."
A different kind of shock was plastered on Eoin's face as he took the time to parse Piolu's words. It was a shock Argon recognized well, one she'd have seen even if the Pallid was wearing his opaque goggles. Looking back between Stoutland and Zorua, Eoin took a deep breath. His voice was soft, as smothered as his own soaked scales.
"Piolu… what have you done?"