They were almost there.

They had to be, right? It had been hours, at least. Hours of trudging back through miles of flooded cobblestone roads with her in his arms. With every turn, Chimera's gaze raised in a silent hope that the elusive Port Obstand would appear before them, only to meet yet another winding trail of rock and palm trees. His feet were chilled to the bone with every step into muddied puddles, and the stubby arms that felt Cerise's slow heartbeat had been cramped for over an hour.

There was no other option. Duel weights pushed on his exposed shoulders with a cascade of rain, both to the fox blanketed under his cape, and the Girafarig still ignorant to what the revolution had already cost him. Another thunderous rumble echoed in the darkness. Dipping his stony forehead to shield his eyes from the droplets, Chimera's hands clenched; A silent desire brewed in his chest to raise his voice to demand Lugia, Kyogre, Zapdos, Thundurus, or whoever else was in charge here shut the fuck up.

It wouldn't be long until a new dawn. Another corner rounded, and another flooded path ahead. Figures.

"I-It's…"

Chimera's eyes shot open. Just as quickly, her bated voice faded. He nearly tripped over a loose stone hidden by the water, only able to muster an apologetic frown at his stumble.

"Yeah?" Chimera asked. "Please hang on. We're… we're almost there. Will be sipping cocoa at the port before you know it."

Her reply was cut off by a few hacking coughs. Listening close, Chimera could swear they sounded like faint chuckles.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Cerise whispered, glancing back to give Chimera a tepid smile. "N-not even yesterday, we were exchanging shadow balls and crossbow bolts across the cafe table. Now y-you're carrying me back like a newborn kit."

Chimera blinked, then blinked once more. Feeling her shift in his arms, he forced a toothy grin; the harsh winds had affected both their wits. It would be an even match.

"Well, for however much it helps, I'd say those three pallids got off worse in the exchange," Chimera replied. "And… not too ironic, really. After all, I couldn't let a worthy foe such as yourself miss the dinner we agreed on."

"If," Cerise replied, her tone bright even as she forced a paw to her ribs, "If you think I'm letting you pay the tab after tonight, you've got another thing coming."

A stammer left Chimera, all he could muster for a comeback. It was hard to even imagine a restaurant, little able to see anything three feet ahead but muck, and trees whose branches jutted out from the shadows.

"Well, what does the 'Dread Bandit Cerise' have in mind?" Chimera asked. "If you think I'm gonna let you pay for overpriced Basculin meunière in your state, you better have something pretty convincing."

"Well…"

Chimera could feel Cerise shift in his grasp, like a mother fox shielding her kit with her body. The hint of levity in the Zorua's tone fell as they pressed on, splashes filling the silence. Turning back to face him, she let out a deep sigh, filling the chilled air with fog.

"Arceus, I was stupid, wasn't I?" Cerise asked.

"Hmm?"

The half second pause as Chimera bit his lip wasn't encouraging, but did she deserve anything but corroboration? Let alone from the pokemon carrying her limp body through thick and thin, from a poorly planned and even more poorly executed heist?

"It…" Chimera replied, "It was a shitty situation all around. I know I couldn't have done it any better, or known that kidnapping was on the table of their little revolution. You did what you had to do."

"I've been saying that to myself for years," Cerise said back, "and look what that got me. Captured. Getting out of prison, only to get captured again, and saved by the Bagon I'd originally stolen from."

"Granted, I was the reason you went to prison in the first place," Chimera added, with a chuckle that was just a bit too hollow for his liking. "So… I guess it all evens out, between that and not blasting my face in when you had the chance at the theatre."

A bit of tension ran through Cerise as her face strained. The Zorua looked on as if trying to concentrate on a test, yet could not produce an answer.

"Sophia wants to say thanks for what you did, by the way," Cerise replied. "She-uh… can't really come out right now, b-but between her, and how this whole mess worked out, I can't help but think… all this time running, stealing, pulling myself away from others, and what do I have to show for it? A worn, decades old journal that could very well end up saying that it's all been a waste? Well, that and…"

The Zorua shuffled again, while Chimera adjusted the cape so she remained sheltered from the elements.

"Well, you've certainly made my life a lot more interesting," Chimera offered, putting on as much enthusiasm as he could. "We've had our differences, but even with everything else I've been given, there's something you add that I can't find anywhere else. Had to dodge a few more shadow balls than my other friends, but—"

"Chimera?"

The Bagon froze, mid dry chuckle. There was something familiar about Cerise's smirk. It was hidden under a layer of soaked fur and exhaustion, but that mischievous look, that slight twitch of her maw just an inch or two from his had returned.

"Yeah?"

Chimera held his breath, pace grinding to a halt.

"... Check your bag."

"Check my wha—"

It took Chimera a full second of silence to realize it. With a labored grunt, Cerise rolled, so that her belly once hidden to the floor faced him. Strapped protectively to it was the Zorua's exploration bag, innocuous by itself, yet... had she lost weight, or had he gained?

Glancing to his side, it appeared both. The canvas satchel at his own hip felt just a bit heavier, while shining back at Chimera's wide eyes, seeped an unmistakable blue radiance. The Bagon blinked, as if it were only a mirage.

"That," Chimera stammered, "that's…"

"I-In hindsight, I really shouldn't have it," Cerise continued, a hint of melancholy returning to her voice. "It was back in that shed. I was knocked out, drifting in and out of consciousness from the pain. I-I remember waking up for a few seconds, and seeing grey scales in front of me. I… I was angry. Angry at everything. A-And when I saw his satchel with the time gear in it, while the two voices were focused on each other, I…"

Chimera stared on, not needing any more. Instantly, he opened the bag, spotting the familiar silver sheen as raindrops glowed blue against its light. His scaled hand dragged along the surface; It was as real as can be.

"I did the only thing I could think of," Cerise finished. "Even after the damn thing was worthless to me after the compass test, I just didn't want them to have it. I-If this really is all for naught once I get back, I want you to take it. I'll bet a former human like you can put it to better use than I ever could."

"I—" Chimera's breath hitched in his throat. She must need it for something, right? "I don't… I'm not…"

He picked up the pace, feet trudging through the mud as if they could make up the slack of his mind. It was the artifact that had started it all (one of them, at least), yet why did the Girafarig at the end of his march hold it in so high regard? There was no temporal tower to save. No impending collapse that it was the key to halting, right? If Uxie were to be believed, it was little but a battery taken from its source. The most important object of his entire career exploring, yet a paperweight.

"Thank you," the Bagon finally uttered, his toothy grin reflecting a pale blue back at Cerise. "For everything. I never knew that the bandit I met in that forest would end up giving me so much. We'll figure this out, though. We'll see if these are what'll bring your mom back, once we get back to Bi… well, speak of the devil."

It was little but the outline of a single cabin silhouetted against the distant treeline, but Chimera already knew they had made it. The Bagon's once arduous march turned into a jog, labored breaths gaining a new energy as he ran down the road. Cerise did her best to keep her visage from going one way or another; Even under a prideful mask, the Zorua could not decide whether meeting the Girafarig meant salvation or doom.

"I-I guess I can't put this off any longer," she whispered.

Neither Chimera, Binair, nor the gods above would wait. Even under a dreary moon, the softly flowing shores of Port Obstand, cut through with neatly aligned docks and steamboats never looked any brighter. Chimera fell to his knees, panting all the while as he set Cerise to the floor.

There he was. The Girafarig stood next to Chimera's own personal office, not a few dozen feet from them. He'd been waiting all night, it seemed. Two sets of bagged eyes stared into the distance, unwavering to catch when Bagon and Zorua would finish their triumphant march home.

It was not to be. As soon as the pair rounded the corner, what psychic power that was left keeping the umbrella levitating over the Girafarig's mane tore itself apart. It fell to the soiled ground, leaving Binair's wide eyed, petrified face open to the elements. One eye twitched.

He sped forth, with a ferocity that could put even the most conditioned Rapidash to shame. Before Chimera had even lifted his head, Binair was before them. The cape nestled over Cerise's form hid the worst of it, at least that was what Chimera wanted to believe. The dashes of blood dotting its surface from each cut, the paw sticking out that was bent in a manner no pokemon should ever have to see much less experience… it was unmistakable.

"By God," Binair whispered, every bit of zeal and poise in his voice thrown to the wind. "Cerise… Darling, what forced you to a state such as this? H-how could I—"

"I'll explain everything that happened, Sir," Chimera said, biting his tongue as he struggled to meet the Girafarig's eye. "There's a lot you need to know I haven't been forthcoming about. What's important now, though, is getting Cerise medical attention."

Any notion of deception from Chimera seemed to go in one of Binair's ears and out the other. The Girafarig was acting on pure instinct now, driven by a force neither economics nor management could hope to match.

"R-right. Thank you, old chum," Binair replied, horns glowing a vibrant pink as an aura surrounded Cerise. "We can have you in a hospital ship and with the best doctors West Faire has to offer before sunrise. It shouldn't—"

A paw raised, shutting the Girafarig in his tracks. With a deep groan, Cerise rolled over to meet her father, clutching the bag at her chest like it was a close friend. The uncertainty, the fear as Binair's gaze met hers hit Cerise infinitely worse than any anger he could muster.

"Wait," Cerise said. "W-wait. Set me down. There's… something I need to do first."

Binair was in no state to deny it. From what Chimera saw, Cerise could have asked the Girafarig to throw himself into the harbor, and not five seconds later he'd hear a splash. The Zorua's paw gripping her bag began to shake, from what Chimera suspected had little to do with the rain. It took her a few more seconds to even unbutton the top, and pull out the worn book underneath. Binair took a step back, only to freeze halfway seeing a journal that had stood the test of time better than any of them.

"I need to see this through," Cerise finished. "I-I need to see if it was all worth it in the end."

Binair did not even breathe as Cerise flipped past the first page. He stood, watching a film he knew the end to all too well, yet could not say a word of. A glimmer of hope flashed in the Zorua while she skimmed from page to page. Again and again, her paw flipped, becoming more ferocious with every second. After each turn, a new barrage of rain soaked into the faded parchment, smudging the ornate cursive almost faster than she could even read it.

All at once, it stopped.

Chimera tilted his head, only able to catch the title over Cerise's shoulder: Conclusion. Her eyes moved much slower this time. The Zorua's ears drooped, giving time for a nonexistent Zoroark to speak into her ear with each word. Even as close as she was, Chimera could garner little of her reaction; illusion or not, she hid it well.

"Well," Chimera whispered, the first to break the silence, "how does it look? If there's anything you need help with on your research, anything at all, I'll be—

The book dropped. Cerise's paws went limp, not saying a word of pages that had remained for decades becoming sullied with mud. Before Chimera could even gasp, he saw why; it was not just rain that had soaked the last page, nor the fox's cheeks. Her breath quivered, sniffling as she turned to face the two with messy tears.

"S-so… that's it then," Cerise weeped, gritting her teeth to fight back any more. "Everything. The artifacts. The legendaries. The time heist. M-mom. All just a… a chimera. A stupid dream, from a thief that was too stubborn to face the facts."

Like most things, she hid it as well as she could. Only a faint sniffle, or a paw rubbing her eyes breached the Zorua's defenses. Yet she didn't move. Not an inch, simply staring as the parchment turned into an imperceivable mush. Silently, Chimera held his hand out, intending what comfort he could reaching for her back.

He never could, however. The ragged, faintly green scarf levitating over her neck had gotten there first. Silently, Cerise gasped, unmoving as the fabric lowered itself to her nape.

"I wouldn't see it like that," Binair said, nestling the other gold scarf back into the Zorua's pack. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I… think she would be proud."

Her fur tensed, back still facing Binair. A tepid paw reached to the scarf, not sure whether to hug it close, or tear it off to join the journal.

"W-what do you mean?" Cerise asked. "I wasted all these years, caused so much wrong on a faulty plan. On a—"

"On a hope," Binair finished, giving a faint smile to the Zorua's back. "Something your mother had in spades. Regardless of the outcome, I believe this whole venture, and the… schism it caused has proved two things."

One clop of the Girafarig's hooves was soon joined by another. Now at her side, Binair lowered himself to the floor without a word. It wouldn't be unreasonable for her to shuffle away, and yet… Cerise remained, even as Binair laid his own hoof against her back.

"The first, that you're every bit the explorer that she was. You faced adversity, imprisonment, and my own continued negligence when I should have done everything I could to remain beside you. Yet you never lost faith, and you saw things through to the very end. Those are traits that I can guarantee even Ezra would admire."

She was well versed in hearing hollow regrets from the Girafarig; they were much easier to ignore through the prison visitation windows. And yet… something was different. That 'I know what's best as your father' voice seemed so detached. So distant. As that familiar war ravaged through the Zorua's mind, she offered only a soft grunt, neither pushing nor pulling Binair one inch. Clearing his throat, Binair knew what came next; it didn't make it any easier.

"The second, that I have completely failed in my duty as a father to you. I have prestige, power, and property to my name since starting this venture with your mother, yet… am no wiser than when I started. I'll have many to make up to once my sins are judged, but if there's any being that deserves my pentenance first, dear, it's you."

"W-what are you suggesting?" Cerise asked.

Deep down, she knew. She'd heard the same from a father that could not put his personal glory aside for the world. With every second, however, it was becoming harder to cast his words aside as usual. The Zorua quivered, on a knife's edge.

"A new beginning," Binair replied. "Father and daughter. In truth, I have been preparing for some time, but I'll only persist with your consent. I know firsthand what the price is for one's hopes going awry, and my one wish is to make up for lost time before that happens. I-I… I don't want to lose you again."

There was nothing else to say. The Girafarig's voice seemed on the edge of breaking, knowing it would not be unreasonable for the Zorua to turn away. Chimera sucked in a breath, taking a step back to let the Zorua decide. It was no doubt as uncomfortable for the Bagon as the last… encounter, but he could not deny that something felt right.

A full minute passed of silence, as a future long thought lost seemed to claw its way back into Cerise's life. A paw reached to her scarf, the last remnant of a past that would never come again. The door she sought may have been only an illusion, yet that did not discharge the pathway beyond.

"I-I… fine," Cerise said, turning to face Binair with the first smile in a decade. "I'll give it a try."

It was all too easy for Binair to respond in kind.

"That is all I ask."

Eoin could rarely recall a time when sunlight shining down below had made his flame tremble as much as now. When darkness cloaked the prison, and their tenuous route between the tunnel's exit, and the outskirts of Port Obstand, fortune seemed to have smiled upon them. The evacuation had succeeded, yet that was the easy part. Peeking through a break in the treeline, the very world seemed to close in on Eoin.

At his front, a few hundred feet ahead, was the port. Most of its ground had dried over after the prior rain, guarded by dozens upon dozens of exploration teams and guards. From the look of the Liepard and Golisopod guarding the entrance, it appeared as any average day.

Glancing behind him, Eoin knew it much the opposite. Hundreds of pallids stood anxious behind him in the outskirt forests. In a few minutes, there would be hundreds more. They stood in varying states of health, strength, and stature, yet there was a fire in each and every eye only liberty could sate. He knew them doubtless an even match against the port defenses, yet no more. As his gaze lowered to his claws, Eoin took a deep breath; it was do or die now.

"You alright, Sir?" a Carkol asked.

"Nothing to worry about, Sir. We're behind you every step of the way," a Talonflame added.

"I trust you, Sir," a Golem continued. "You'll be better at this than Piolu ever could."

"E-Eoin?"

The last whisper hit the Pallid the most. A familiar paw set itself on his back, a warmth that even the chill of morning could not dim. Eoin's flame lulled, in a strange desire to close his eyes and give himself to a more feral form looking back at Argon.

"But," Eoin replied, "but… what if he was ri—"

"I'm nervous too," Argon said back, with a few crackles of her cheeks corroborating. "B-by Arceus, I am, but we can't turn back now. Everything you've ever worked for is coming to a head. You were the one that taught me how important it is to take a stand; the least I can do is repay the favor."

In truth, Argon couldn't fully tell what made her do it. The rush of adrenaline knowing the importance of what was to come? The fear of not seeing the Charmander's endearing smile once the sun had set? Perhaps… a simple instinct in her being that it felt somehow right. Either way, Eoin could scarcely get in another word, feeling Argon's maw press against his own.

Eoin gasped, almost verbatim to Argon's own gasp just a few short months ago from his own unprompted embrace. It was a short kiss, all things considered. After a few long, yet fleeting seconds, Argon pulled away. She turned back, waving to a long line of avians spread out through the forest. Catalina was waiting for her with a wing ready, and pouches of developed photos strapped to her belly like a dive bomber.

"Best of luck, Eoin," Argon replied. "I-I'll see you on the other side."

A quick flap of wings as the avians took off above the trees, and she was gone. The Charmander's flame billowed in deep, labored breaths, unable to stem the warmth from his cheeks. One thing was certain as he turned back to the awaiting pallids; the fear was buried.

"I will scout ahead for the most vulnerable entrance," Eoin proclaimed. "Once I return, the revolution will begin in earnest. Steel yourselves; we march today for a better world for all."

He was no stranger to the tonalities of stealth. A lightless tail, and feral upbringing only somewhat overcome did much to help Eoin as he scurried across the perimeter. The defenses seemed as usual. Checkpoints were manned. Pairs of pokemon stood guarding every important intersection, and yet… strange.

On the very edge of the port, where the sand met the sea, the guard station was completely unmanned. Ducking behind a collapsed tree, not a hundred feet away from the sentryless station, Eoin tilted his head. It appeared as if out of a painting, with only a faint breeze, a softly flowing shore, and a beached, dilapidated fishing boat to its name. Was it a sloppy guard detail change? A careless sentinel abandoning his post for a quick drink? It… couldn't be that easy, could it?

Regardless, he had few other options. A direct assault on any other sections of the perimeter would be a recipe for avoidable tragedy. Eoin felt his scales shake as his foot met the sand, scurrying as fast as he could to make a break behind the empty guard post.

"Pleasant day, isn't it, Eoin? Though, nothing revolutionary I imagine."

Every single muscle in Eoin froze. He'd gotten maybe a couple dozen feet before hearing that voice. One confirmed suspicion after another flashed through the Pallid. He could barely turn around, only just able to eye the wrecked, dilapidated vessel behind him, and the Girafarig head poking up from its hull.

"No need to be tense, good sir," Binair continued, beaming a smile that anywhere else, from any other pokemon would have seemed inviting. "It's been a long day for both of us, I imagine."

"Y-you're… you are too late!" Eoin shot back, head on a swivel searching for the followup ambush. "We've already evacuated enough pallids from your prison. Even without me, your grand empire is moments away from—"

"For God's sake," Binair interrupted, giving a light chuckle, "I did not spend the last three hours tanning on a sloop to capture you or your followers here. Quite the opposite in fact— may you stop turning your head like a Noctowl?" Binair rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "I give you my word I've come alone."

There was not a single fiber of Eoin's being that would rate the Girafarig's word worth more than the bird droppings lining the vessel's hull, but a few more seconds of inspection gave nothing to the contrary. He was taken aback turning to Binair. Not from any strike team jumping out of the craft to apprehend him, but the folding beach chair held in his telekinetic grasps.

"Why are you here then?" Eoin asked, glancing over his shoulder. "If Chimera really did tell you what was coming, why waste time hiding alone?"

"To offer a proposal," Binair replied. "I figured a neutral location would ease tensions. Care to take a seat? I would have brought a chair for myself, but… my stature's become a bit uncooperative."

The chair unfolded, nestling itself in the sand next to him. Eoin narrowed his eyes, attempting to discern what tells he could from the Girafarig. All his options seemed bad ones. Of course, if he was telling the truth, the wisest course would be to turn his flame to Binair and run, but… Eoin could not deny a strange, almost morbid curiosity. As Binair levitated a checkered picnic blanket to his side, the Pallid took a tentative seat. A few seconds later, and no pop up chains, ropes, nor shackles to see.

"I doubt you would suddenly acquiesce now," Eoin said, eyeing a small table floating out of the hull set itself between them. "What reason do I have to not suspect a trap?"

"Simple," Binair replied, a steadfast stare overtaking his grin. "From what Chimera has told me, you and Argon acted in defense of my daughter. I respect someone who stands up for their belief, even against their own organization."

The Charmander bit his tongue, almost disappointed he had no counter. For how leisurly Binair nestled to the blanket, it could have been a vacation.

My proposal is this: I offer you and your followers safe passage from this port to Pith Town. Should you choose, you may have your march and see how the denizens of Faire judge you. In exchange, I have only one condition."

Eoin's piercing glare told the obvious question. His own imprisonment? Forced subservience after the march? The Pallid could scarcely tell what his opposite would levitate next out of that hull; a checkered board filled with ornately carved pieces, and two glasses of wine wasn't exactly his first guess.

"...Being?"

"That you and I," Binair said, holding a soft tone, and gentle smile, "shoot the breeze this fine day, and have a little discussion… along with a game of chess, if you wouldn't mind. I've been feeling anxious for a match since our last meeting."

Eoin felt his eye noticeably twitch at the proposition. In hindsight though, he shouldn't have expected less; the Pallid would do anything to avoid a confrontation, and his opposite knew it. He stared back at the Girafarig, like two knights meeting on horseback for the pre-battle parley. All things considered, there were less civilized ways for this to go. Not a single piece was out of place as the chess board set itself between them. With a psychic spin of the battlefield, Binair cast a grin down to his adversary, now eyeing the white marble pieces before him.

"Your move, Eoin."

With his hand to his chin, Eoin's mind worked two fold. His claw worked its way along the top of each piece, eventually setting itself on the tip of a pawniard, directly before his king. Eyeing it move forward two spaces, Binair kept a cool poker face.

"Answer me this," Eoin said, a hint of ire sneaking into his own voice. "What possible justification could you possibly have for forcing it to come to this, for keeping beings no less worthy of life than yourself destitute and imprisoned? No doubt they could contribute more to Faire given education. You've all the resources in the world to give them opportunity, and yet you choose not to."

"Going straight for the throat, I see," Binair replied, a psychic aura coalescing around the opposite pawniard to move it one space. "An effective strategy. Well…"

The Girafarig's wine glass floated up to his maw. He took his time taking a sip, savoring each tonality of flavor, though the glass at Eoin's side remained untouched. He eyed the glass as if eyeing a sword above his own head. Binair's brow furrowed at the obvious connotation, his horns again glowing to lift a drop of wine out of the Pallid's own cup. Gulping it down with the rest, Binair returned an exacerbated frown.

Happy?

"I say this in my defense," Binair replied. "Everything I have done, everything I will do, has been for the pokemon of Faire. Before the age of steel and railroads, have you any idea just how much of a population devotes itself to simply having enough grain to survive the next day? Freeing pokemon of that burden, and pouring every last bit of capital into their wellbeing has allowed for an influx of progress that even the highest civilizations can scarcely rival."

"That you have benefited most from," Eoin countered, his tail inflaming. "For all that progress, it seems Faire has learned little. The anger your imprisonment has caused will do far more to disrupt the lives of Faire's pokemon than whatever change was saved keeping us in line. It already has."

Eoin's move was decise, moving the pawn before his queen to stand beside its kingly counterpart. Even as he took a sip of the wine, the Pallid could not help but notice Binair's grip around his own glass changing. Ever so faintly, the glass seemed to vibrate in its psychic clutches, as if against a Loudred's shout.

"It would have been easy to consolidate Faire's wealth infinitely more than its current state," Binair replied. "Some more… laissez-faire policies for factory work hours, and an executive bonus redistributed from the common man's vacation fund, and I could have watched the pokemon of Pith Town line up for bread from an ivory mansion. Even in the beginning days of the West Faire Guild, however, I knew that path was folly."

A black pawn in the queen's row floated two spaces to challenge Eoin's maneuver. He laid a hoof to the board, slamming it just enough to not discard the pieces.

"Make no mistake, Eoin," Binair continued, his own temper starting to break from the mask. "The beings that I have spent my time in this world helping are not 'somewhat sentient', not 'perhaps sentient', not 'arguably sentient' they are. But…"

All at once, the vigor in Binair's voice seemed to fade away. Eoin's eyes widened, not sure whether his flame was more settled, or wary. It was a different smile that met Eoin, in spite the tension across the board.

"You're different," Binair said. "I never knew quite why until Chimera explained your unique origins. Polite. Passionate. A gentleman in all respects, yet brave enough to organize a movement that challenges decades of planning on my part. I would not have organized this little meeting had I not thought of you as an intellectual, and an equal in this game we're forced to play. It… really is a shame we find ourselves like this. Should the circumstances have been different, I like to think we could have spent many more fine days such as this testing wits across the board."

Of all that Eoin prepared for planning his next move, flattery certainly wasn't it. He could not deny the Girafarig's words were from the heart, yet there was a certain meaning behind the praise that made his flame flicker in all the wrong ways. The Pallid raised his glass, taking a sip as he moved his leftmost knight before his queen; well aged, no doubt, yet a slight feeling of bitterness under the sweet texture.

"As do I," Eoin replied, "but I believe your blandishment is misplaced. I am no different than the thousands that follow. Should this meeting go on a few hours more, I have no doubt you'll see a… different side of me. I can guarantee the pallids yearning for liberty are no less capable of intellect, anger, love, or righteousness than myself. It is simply our privilege fueling any supposed superiority."

Binair didn't even bother with the telekinesis, thrusting his hoof forward to move his own knight. It was an instinctual reaction, challenging the centermost pawn in a maneuver he'd no doubt done hundreds of times before.

"Do you really believe that?" Binair asked. "I can assure you the efforts to educate pallids to our level in days prior ended quite… tragic. I can list off the names of hundreds of innocent pokemon who have been the victim of barbarity exploring mystery dungeons. Just a few hours ago was proof that the inclination for violence inscribed into their being from millennia of defending time gears has not been vanquished. Thousands of pokemon across Faire were left mourning in broken homes from pallid attacks. That is not something so easily forgotten in a populace."

Eoin's own claws began to clench around the armrest. A part of the Pallid wished to strike out against Binair, for condemning the beings of now for the actions of yesterday. For thinking that Piolu's plot was anything but the culmination of anger from the Girafarig's oppression. Yet… another side of his being relented, noticing a tinge of remorse in his voice more than expected. Under the guise of scanning the board, his mind went to work. Chimera had told him of Cerise's plight, of course. Of her unending desire to reverse a death that led to decades of separation in Binair's—

Eoin's eyes shot open, claws nearly breaking the glass in his grasp.

"Because… you're one of them," Eoin replied, a certain sorrow in his tone. "Are you not? If so, all I can offer are condolences. It was an unjust death that took her, but that doesn't deny the capability of pallids to change. To make sure it does not happen again."

There it was. A chink in the knight's armor, a stare past Eoin's shoulders to the forest beyond that held for just a second too long. In the silence, Eoin leaned forward, moving his centermost pawn up to challenge the knight. Something else took to Binair's frown as he stared at the board; for perhaps the first time, he did not know what move to make.

"Let me make one thing clear," Binair seethed. "I am not using her death as an easy excuse. A convenient pathos to make way for hollow righteousness. I could not think of a more reactionary and ill-conceived gesture than using a single tragedy as justification for what you've seen. What I do, I do for the benefit of Faire's pokemon, based on decades of reason and evidence. Nothing more, nothing less."

A faint horn of a steamboat blasted in the distance. Binair glanced back, more than a bit of tension relieved from the interruption. Before Eoin could retort, Binair retreated the knight before his queen, letting out a quick cough.

"I… believe that is all there is to discuss on the matter. The convoy should be ready by now. You'll find the foremost guard station awaiting your revolutionaries, as well as a captain by the name of Wendy. Care to finish our game?"

Eoin took a deep breath, eyeing the sun just beginning its ascent. There were plenty of hours left in the day, sure. However, between risking his life leading a revolution, and locking himself against Binair in a game of chess, the Pallid could honestly not decide which was more stressful.

"Another time," Eoin replied, standing up from the chair. "Should everything go to plan, we'll have many more opportunities to finish this game. And..."

His eyes widened, the thought hitting how what was most important had been swept away in the last tumultuous hours.

"I-is… is Cerise—"

"Not her best state, but in good health," Binair replied. "In no small part to your efforts. It seems we've both had a lot to consider from the incident. Before you depart, Eoin, I'd like to offer a final injunction."

Like clockwork, the chess set, table, and glasses between them floated off to the side, leaving only open air between Charmander and Girafarig. Binair stood tall on his hoofs against Eoin, casting a shadow over the Pallid. Replacing any anger in his visage was something more solemn, a knowledge of a truth that, while distasteful, stood firm nonetheless.

"There's a reason I did not go through the effort of trapping you, Eoin," Binair said, "nor machinated a scheme to ensnare your followers on the route to Pith Town. It is simply because I did not have to. The pokemon you turn to for support, the ones expected to stick their necks out against the status quo enjoy three bedroom houses and regular trips to their favorite restaurant. They work nine-to-five factory jobs, with secure pensions and families that look forward to seeing their face at the end of each day."

Binair stepped forward, his long neck silhouetted against the clouds. His hoof bumped against the two glasses, spilling their red wine to the shifting sand.

"In short, Eoin, they have too much to lose. The hoi polloi would much rather stay at home than endanger their lives, all for the sake of pallids they have never even seen. You have my word I'll do everything in my power to ensure no blood is spilt, but if you continue down this path…"

"I've heard much the same," Eoin replied, neither voice nor stance wavering an inch. "Perhaps you are right, perhaps not, but if the pallids of Faire must suffer because the privileged that could have helped stood by, I will go down knowing neither I, nor those beside me joined them."

The palm trees rustled in the wind, while a rough wave crashed against the shore. It chilled the feet of Charmander and Girafarig alike, remaking the sand surrounding. Putting on his best smile, Binair turned to the port.

"I guess we should both be off then. Time waits for no man."