The streets of Pith Town ran grey that day. Even as close as Eoin was, the Pallid felt his claw pinching his scales. Months of preparation, deception, and sacrifice all culminating in one cloudy afternoon. They would either walk away victors bathed in the once impossible light of liberty, or colorless stains to the pavement.

It was all or nothing now. Time waited for no one.

Again and again, pokemon of all shapes and sizes poured out of the convey of steamboats parked against Pith Town harbor. Cohesion of any size or shape was nonexistent. Above the endless sea of grey behind him, an Arcinane stepped out from a gangplank, its chest as bare as the Infernape before him. An Oddish was next, nearly shoved out from the force of the pallids behind. Even a Dugtrio (carried by a Golduck with the lack of dirt) made its way across, another trio of eyes staring back at Eoin.

The Charmander could feel his flame blazing as adrenaline wrestled with anxiety. They'd only a single hue to unite them. It was up to him to do the rest. With bated, tepid steps, he went forward, clearing his throat with his claw raised to the sky. Slowly but surely, the constant roar of their collected murmurs drew to a halt.

"Is… is everybody ready?!" Eoin shouted.

A crescendo of caws, yelps, and cheers was the response. Eoin sucked in a breath, his tail flame rustling in the breeze as he turned to face the streets. Fangs grinded while butterfree swam in his stomach; he'd been practising in the mirror for weeks, but it never came any easier.

"W-what do we march for?!"

"Rights!"

A step forward, while his maw opened just a bit easier.

"What do we march for?!"

"Freedom!"

One foot in front of the other. His eyes narrowed, stride steadfast towards the streets ahead. He couldn't stop this. Nobody could.

"What do we march for?!"

"Tomorrow!"

Any soul watching above couldn't even catch a glimpse of Pith Town's normally cobblestone amber roads. A constant monochrome mass moved through the streets, various forms blending together like a wall of combee. He'd walked these streets many times before, after all. Not even a week ago he'd sipped a red gummi smoothie at the quaint little outdoor restaurant across the way. And yet… with his tail cover and goggles in the trash, and scale paint long washed off, it seemed almost a different world.

"Pokemon of Faire," Eoin proclaimed, his voice raising in tune with his ember, "we walk through these streets today as friends, and as equals! We ask only your ears, to hear the tragedies that have gone without justice."

A thundering echo of corroboration cheered behind the Charmander.

"You have all been lied to for too long!" an Exploud yelled.

"Your guild masters swept our suffering under the rug for decades!" a Rampardos replied.

"We will be heard!" a Rattata continued, just barely audible against the rest. "And we won't back down!"

Few pallid nor pokemon could ever see a more energetic gathering, yet Eoin's pace faltered just a bit at what he saw; for all the life behind him, the streets that lay before were all but dead. Shut doors and curtained windows greeted them at left and right. For every hurrah, the march's sides seemed only more silent. Eoin blinked to the sky, catching a brief glimpse of a Pancham just before the window shutters slammed. The fear in its eyes was obvious, though… with a tinge of something else underneath. After all, even seeing the grey beings before them speak cognitive sentences was but yesterday a myth.

Rounding a wide corner, their odds fared just as well. On one claw, were the first polychrome pokemon that had stepped out of their homes. A Samurott, Mudsdale, and especially purple Slowpoke to name a few were the first to greet the march from perhaps a dozen feet away. Making up the other claw, were the brandished swords, hooves, and poisonous shell that accompanied their scowls. With a raise of his claw, the Pallid's march crept to a halt.

"Greetings," Eoin opened, putting on a gentle smile. "We apologize for interrupting your morning routine. Our purpose for being here is to inform the citizens of Faire of the grave injustices that have—"

"Leave," the Samurott responded. "I… I don't know how thousands of pallids that can speak got into Pith Town, but we're not going to let these streets or our private property become a giant mystery dungeon."

Any calls of agreeance from the pokemon beside the Samurott were instantly drowned out from their grey opposites.

"What right do you have to say that?!"

"This island is ours as much as yours!"

"Move! Or you'll be moved."

Hollers, countercries, and chants fluctuated back between the two sides like an ever increasing pinball. Eoin's scales flinched, nearly overloaded from the sheer noise between them. Again, his claw raised, only finding moderate success as the shouts on one side dulled to piercing murmurs.

"Please!" Eoin yelled. "We come with the best intentions. I offer my guarantee neither your, nor any pokemon of Faire's property has anything to fear. We want only to establish a dialogue! We… we…"

"I-I know you."

It was barely a whisper against the dozen interjections, yet Eoin's eyes shot wide. That voice, where was it?

With his gaze craning like a Venonat, Eoin saw it. Nestled behind the Samurott, tucked against a door just open enough to peek out of, stood an unassuming Oshawott. Nestled close with her flippers hugged loosely around was a motherly Empoleon, seemingly ready at the slightest provocation to tug the otter back inside.

"You're… you're that Cha—"

Eoin blinked, craning his head to try and hear the Oshawott.

"I-I remember! You were there whe—"

"We need to get to the Guild Hall!"

"They'll box us in if we stop here!"

"You're not going anywhere! I'll sooner drop dead than let the creatures I fought on the daily tread through our streets like they own the pla—"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

Eoin maw laid agape, somehow even more surprised at his shout than the pallids and pokemon surrounding. He certainly couldn't fault the results. Save for a few dissonant whispers, the populated streets of Pith Town fell silent. The Oshawott fell back into her mother's flippers as Eoin met her gaze, suddenly realizing the spotlight she had earned.

"I'm… I am sorry for that," Eoin continued, holding a pensive smile to the otter. "Please, what were you saying?"

"W-well, it's just… I just…" the Oshawott replied. "T-the library, when you had those funny goggles and that tail thingy."

The past few weeks had fallen upon him like a blur. A seemingly endless flow of tense meetings, high stakes missions, punctuated with each crawl through five hundred yards of waste. The Pallid had very few times for respite in the past months, but when he did…

Eoin blinked, the memory falling before him.

"You," Eoin stammered, claw raising to his chin, "you said your name was Emma, correct? The Oshawott last week that asked me where the aviation section was?"

A hasty nod. The Empoleon squinted, sizing up the Pallid as if trying to match an alien to a memory. A few seconds of thought had her eyes draw as wide as saucers. It… it couldn't be.

"R-right," Emma replied. "It's so cool seeing pokemon swimming through the air like flying types, isn't it? I-I remember I was just about to leave, but then I saw you had that book with the Alomomola on the title. Was it a sports book? W-what was the title again? Courts? Courting? Something like that."

That single comment made Eoin's flame swirl more than leading a revolution ever could. He looked away, not noticing the befuddled crinkle of the Samurott's muzzle.

"Wait, you like planes? What's your favorite type?"

Both Charmander and Oshawott jumped up at the third voice. Eoin glanced behind him, spotting the grey beak of a Fledgling peaking from behind his legs. Even as hidden as it was, Emma sucked in a gasp spotting the Pallid's ragged appearance. His feathers were torn every which way. Stress bars ran uniformly through each quill. Most distinct were the clean cuts on each side of the Fletchling's wing; he wasn't flying anywhere anytime soon.

"Well I," Emma stammered, fiddling with her flippers, "I-I guess the CG-4, those gliders they have flying over both islands. I-I was just about to start building a model when all these grey pokemon showed up."

The monochrome Fletchling's eyes lit up. He pecked at himself, blinking fast with a question just on the tip of his beek.

"Can… can I help?"

Pallid and pokemon alike stared between the two. It was like a pack of wolves had just burst into suburbia, with fangs no different than yesterday yet suddenly speaking like any neighbor. A soft breeze flowed between Oshawott and Fletchinder, their stares curious, yet as fragile as any leaf.

"W-well," Emma replied, turning to the Samurott, "Dad?"

The Samurott's claw clenched around his sword, nose crinkling. A blaze of inspiration shot through Eoin at his hesitation. Without a doubt, he and the pokemon behind remained no more trustworthy than any wolves to the pokemon in front. But that pause, with the Samurott's sword to the floor… it was all they needed.

"Your daughter will have that playdate, and many more with your approval," Eoin said. "We don't ask for the pokemon of Faire to immediately welcome with open arms beings they've often fought the aggression of, but is it too much to ask to share the streets for one day? We need only that to prove ourselves worthy of partnership."

The pokemon before Eoin looked about as trusting as a Zangoose against a Seviper's tail. However, the innocuous gaze of Fletchling and Oshawott kept neither him nor any pokemon across the street from releasing a blast of water or obscenities. His sizable beard drooped while he gave a tepid nod, the other pokemon likewise stepping aside. It was a long way to companionship, but no pallid was in the mood to be picky. The gleam of swords, claws, and cannons against the sun was enough to get the message across; they'd be on best behavior.

With a hearty thanks to Oshawott and Fletchling, the pallids were on the move. While the opening minutes turned to nearly a half hour, once scarcely opened windows and doors unlocked to reveal the pokemon behind. Bewilderment picked up where fear of life and limb had subsided. How did the deadly tormentors of mystery dungeons learn to sing?!

"Will our songs ring true through Faire?"

A chorus ran through the streets with every step. A bard he was not, but it would do.

"Will our chains break everywhere?"

Another corner rounded brought the final challenge ahead. In shining marble, across the vast expanse of Pith Town center, stood the monolithic West Faire Guild Hall. Even with it but a tiny view at its distance, Eoin could see the long line of barricades that stood before them. With a cough that betrayed his bated tone, the Charmander raised his voice.

"Our colors fly, abuse deny. With a guild corrupt, who will stand up?"

They certainly weren't alone anymore. Dozens, if not hundreds of pokemon were on the opposite ends of the barricade. Some stood sentry with piercing eyes, others rushed back and forth stacking sandbags, bricks, and even loose pieces of furniture to cover the gaps. More and more residents of Pith Town had left their homes to watch the unprecedented movement. Some looked with held breaths from the shops and homes of the western side, others sat on or around the newly constructed stage on the Eastern half, craning for better views of the grey wave approaching across no man's land.

"Through strife and ache, our wills remain. Will you go forth, if we are—"

A volley of piercing water jetted out towards the grey sea, crashing just a few feet before the pallids. Eoin stumbled back, a once faint voice pounding at his subconscious to turn tail and run. Vines, claws, and feathers alike helped him back up, just as he spotted the source; water types dotted the barricaded, the foremost a Carracosta with his maw still dripping. Perhaps equally surprising were the other pokemon manning the sentry stations. The Marowak, Graveler, and Palossand were expected, but the Deerling at their side looked two pallid steps away from a nervous breakdown.

"T-that's far enough!" Flora shouted, peeking her head just above the barricade.

"The Guild Hall and its perimeter are closed off, today," Helios continued. "You all can march around Pith Town till sundown for all we care, but one foot closer and you'll get more than a warning shot."

Eoin gritted his teeth, wiping the loose drops of water from his scales. His feet wavered, tail waving back and forth in thought. Open claws and maws gleamed in the barricade ahead. Could they back down? Months of planning had all relied on holding around the center of their grievances. They'd only one day to make a statement. One day to show the pokemon of Faire their will was firm. Wordlessly, Eoin glanced back, searching his kin for options. The ragged yet burning faces that stared back answered true. It was decades too late to back down now.

The Charmander raised both claws, a single foot inching forward. Flora inched back seemingly in tandem, while the cannons beside her took aim. They… they wouldn't.

"We mean no one any harm," Eoin replied, his first foot hitting the cobblestone ahead. "Our experiences have led us to believe only assembling around the Guild's center will bring required change. We will not strike first, but should the need arise…we will defend ourselves."

Inch by inch, the pallids behind matched his steps. Helios and Eoin stared at each other across the town square with chips in place. A game of chicken, deadlier than any crash if bluffs fell.

"This is your last warning! We're under orders."

"We want a life of peace and stability as much as you do!" Eoin shot back, pallids moving ever closer. "We'll stop twenty paces before the barricade. If you want us to halt, simply bring out the guildmaster and we can show the pokemon of Faire what he's been—"

Eoin couldn't get in another word before a jet of water shot against his chest. He gasped mid fall, crashing to the floor with every bit of air sucked away. It was like a Crabrawler had just punched him with a fistful of acid. Gasps and yells erupted every which way while he stared to the blurry sky. Greeting him once he'd regained some sense were the shuffling feet of pallids about to charge. Claws lit up with fire. Fangs sparked with volts. Eoin lurched up in a clumsy stupor, eyes wide with his claw to the air.

"Wait!" Eoin sputtered, in a vain attempt to quell the wave of pallids. "N-no, don't…"

"Hold your fire!"

Eoin couldn't look. His eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable war cries… that never came. That voice—Amidst the chaos, he couldn't be certain, but only one hard headed pokemon matched.

"For God's sake," Chimera shouted, "hold your fire."

Again and again Eoin blinked, Psyducks swimming in a circle around his head. What greeted him looking up was what could only be described as a blue and grey torpedo hurdling down from the top of the Guild Hall to in front of the barricade. Pokemon and Pallid alike flinched with the resounded crash of forehead against cobblestone. Dusting himself off (not exactly his best landing), Chimera shot Eoin a toothy grin. The wink that followed drew as many butterfrees as reassurance in the Pallid's chest.

"Sir?" Flora asked.

Chimera turned back to the troops, a hand lowering to his exploration bag. He felt around, as if trying to make sure a certain something hadn't broken in the crash.

"I'm… I'm sorry for being late to the party," Chimera replied. "The Presider has sent me to oversee the situation. Your orders are out of date."

Even under his mask, the furrow in Helios' brow was obvious. Eoin's just barely matched it. Charging pallids slowed to a halt, eyeing the new piece on the board.

"He," Helios said, "he made it pretty clear we're to keep them outside of the perimeter. By any means necessary. What's changed?"

Chimera's forehead drooped. He turned to the side, so both barricades and pallids were in view. A low roar of murmurs drifted from each.

"That's on a need to know basis, soldier," Chimera replied. "The important thing is that Binair will be busy for the next couple hours, and until further notice, our grey guests will have the run of Pith Town and the perimeter. No attacks of any kind unless they strike first. Is that clear?"

A jolt of pain shot through Eoin as he tried to stand. At what was before him though, it was an afterthought. Could… could it be? It was the Bagon ahead that was the reason they'd risked life and limb rushing a march months ahead of schedule. The Bagon before them that was, at best, ambiguous between distinction in the guild and his kin's liberty. Was it all an act? A double agent playing the conformist? He knew well enough the Bagon wore masks well.

The ethereal flame around Helios' bone slowly grew, waving in the wind. He looked to Chimera, then to the tidal wave of pallids ahead. Then to Chimera. Then to the pallids.

"Sir," Helios continued, voice taking its time with each word. "You know the risk we all have being knee-deep in this, don't you? It might not end well for 'mons like us if the pallids get what they want. Memories don't fade away that easy."

Flora wasn't the only pokemon who jerked up at the connotation. Sandslash grinded their claws together. Typhlosion and Magmortar felt ashes dancing in their chests. Murmurs grew to strained chatter, all focused on the ever so small Bagon between them and the pallids. Against it all, however, a fire lit in Chimera's eyes. One hand raised to the barricade, while his other drifted down to his weapon, keeping it at his side.

"That is not for us to decide," Chimera shot back. "They're here now, and the politics of it all isn't our responsibility. Our job right now is protecting the pokemon of Faire. If that means letting the mystery dungeon pokemon have a crowd throughout Pith Town, so be it."

He stepped out, in a careful march across the barricade. One by one Chimera met each guild member with a piercing gaze while his grey cape fluttered. Some stared back, others mumbled nervous or not so flattering words, but they all listened.

"Any member of the guild blasts that Charmander again, or gives those pallids any more reason to so much as throw a rock this way, they'll answer to me."

A beat of silence, with weary looks this way and that. The Bagon turned to face them all, his platinum badge glinting in the sun.

"The Presider will hear. Won't take more than a few line report once this is all over to show any loose cannons what it's like on the other side of the fence. Do I make myself clear?"

"... You," Helios said, "you can't be seriously—"

A sharp thwack cut through the air. Chimera looked back, a bolt from his crossbow soaring straight up.

"Do I make myself clear?!"

The tentative nods that followed were high contenders for the greatest sight Eoin had seen that day. The Pallid risked letting out a high pitched yip smiling to Chimera. He smiled back, of course, though… a bit less than he'd seen before. A hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun, blocking his face all the while.

"Then… what's keeping us from seeing the two-face himself?" A grey Drednaw in the crowd yelled. "The high and mighty Presider couldn't be arsed to face his demons? We're not worth his time?!"

"You'll get to see him soon!" Chimera replied, beating even the concurring salvo of questions from the pallids. "The Presider… he has family matters to deal with. There's a Zorua in this very hall that's yet to fully recover."

"He really can't step outside for two minutes?!"

"There are hundreds that have suffered much worse while he turned a blind eye!"

"He can't put this off forever!"

The Bagon's countenance softened in a silent plea to Eoin. Pallids looked ahead, expecting a chant of agreeance from the Charmander. With his own nod, however, one that not a single other pallid could fully understand, he stood still.

"Please!" Chimera implored. "These things take time. This is all I ask. A few hours, and then we can sort out this decades-long clusterfu—"

Chimera had a very hard time speaking with a slip of paper slammed against his face. It fluttered haphazardly against his forehead, until a stubby hand raised to grip the very edge. The paper stayed in Chimera's hand for a dead second, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the photographs inside. His grip loosened, letting it flutter away in the wind. Not like he needed to worry. Not like Eoin, Flora, Helios, or any other being pallid or pokemon had to worry.

On that day, the skies of Pith Town rained down with many more where that came from.

Eoin's claw raised, shielding his eyes from the sun to see the heavens dotted with every flying type under the sun. Paper rained down like snow, with a singular, large silhouette on fast approach. Steading himself to his feet, Eoin's tail burned an inferno.

"Right on time," the Charmander whispered.

"Ya sure this is a good idea?!"

The wind flapping across Argon's ears turned her Mantine transport's shout into a whisper. With every foot closer to terra firma, the grey wave ahead gained more detail. She could almost make out individual faces now, from both them and the long barricade stretching from end to end. Of course where she stood, that was the least of her concerns.

"I-I… I think so. Yes," Argon replied, taking a deep breath to sooth her mind. "I've been practising a lot with my dad. Should be the easiest thing to do today."

Catalina merely shrugged, the movement of her sizable flipper wings diving them down over the crowd. Her eyes craned to the floor, until a crosshair set over the large stage between Guild Hall and pallids.

"Alrighty. Your funeral."

One flipper went up. One went down. Catalina's body craned, twirling in a roll to put even the most experienced fox to shame. Once right side up, there was no longer any Raichu at her back.

Dozens, hundreds of pokemon gasped, some covering their eyes seeing the orange, yellow, and pink blur speeding down to the stage. Most waited for the inevitable crash of the Raichu soaring to the floor. Waited. Waited. Waited…

A few dared to look, shooting back with faces of equal or greater shock. The pink aura around her manifested further, turning a formula one race to the ground into a brisk drive, then a hearty run, until—

Argon hit the stage, tucking and rolling with gritted teeth. She'd… certainly be feeling her knee in the morning, but landings prior had been worse. Once his rapid blinks had slowed, and his shock with it, Chimera couldn't help but chuckle; it was a better entrance than his.

It was only after dusting herself off that Argon got a full glimpse of her audience. Thousands of grey pupils stared up to her with renewed vigor, while thousands more of their tinged counterparts held a mix of shock and incredulity. For better or worse it had worked. All eyes were on her.

"A-Argon?!" Flora stammered. "How are you… why are you…"

A pit formed in the Deerling's throat, seeing they weren't the only ones that had noticed the paper rain scattering the floor. Nearby the stage a Buizel stood in the surrounding crowd, picking up one of the pamphlets.

The first thing that greeted her was a black and white photo, showing an equally monochrome Blitzle, hauling a plow behind through the dirt with barbed wire fences in the background. A flip, and there was an Ivysaur, its back left foot cut clean off in some long past accident. The Buizel looked over, spotting a decidedly more colorful Ivysaur in a thousand yard stare, seemingly about to gag at the sight. She couldn't blame them.

One more showed a dozen pallids sleeping in what could only be described as a shelf. A single glance up with wide, frozen eyes revealed the Eevee, Tyrogue, and Charmander in the photo being the very ones before them.

Hundreds of pokemon at the Buizel's left, right, back, and front followed the trend. The photos, they just kept coming.

"What… what is the meaning of this?!" the Buizel asked, glaring back up at Argon.

Electrons crackled down Argon's cheeks through her body, from tail to floor. She took a deep breath, paws clenched.

"Y-you've… "

She'd had weeks upon months to plan this very moment. Every word had been said ten times over in her head. An until now silent debate that she had to win. Yet it never came any easier. The Pichu of prior years, the Raichu of prior months would have sooner frozen to death than face the eyes and responsibility ahead. Yet here she was.

"You've all been deceived," Argon said, her stance firming as a crackle of light sparked from her tail. "We've all been deceived! The pallids we all thought only a ceaseless aggression… they deserve so much more, but hidden in the depths of East Faire, all we've given them is pain and compulsion."

A murmur of debate drifted across the crowd, suddenly hearing the news from a form far harder to dismiss. Could it be true? Who's to say the photos weren't faked? Even if it was, what responsibility did they have in the politics of it all? Whether in shock, horror, or morbid curiosity, most stayed, though at very edges the crowd started to disperse. A current of stress began to build. One by one families walked back to their houses, faces just a tad drooped. This wasn't worth the stress nor the confusion.

"Wait!" Argon called. "I… I know what it's like to be where you're standing. None of us blame you for it. From one pokemon to another, all I ask is that you take a good long look at what's happened today. Please, ask yourself, why did this happen?"

It certainly wasn't hard to meet her request. The evidence was right before their eyes, in flesh and ink. Wary faces looked up to the Raichu, more curious of her story than she'd imagined any pokemon would ever be. Families halted, turning back just a tad to the sudden orator.

"Thank you," Argon continued, sucking in a breath. "Thank you so much. I let this happen just as much as any other pokemon. It's so… reassuring to pull back and focus on you and your own. If this had happened a year earlier, and another pokemon was on this stage, I'd probably be in my apartment sipping tea."

It was hard to tell whether any lingering guilt over the crowd had gone up or down. It ebbed and flowed, all the while the Raichu on stage hoped and prayed her voice was loud enough to reach the back. For years shouting had always seemed a foreign concept, but tomorrow would not forgive a tepid tongue.

"But," Argon said, "b-but there came a point where I couldn't avoid it any longer. It was months ago the day I saw cruelty too great to ignore. For Faire, that day is today. This day affects all of us, one way or another. It will next week. Next month. Next year. I—"

A faint tick of the mind locked her tongue. Dozens of pokemon blinked, seeing the Raichu mumble something under her breath.

"Why now?!" her thoughts pinged back. "Don't panic. Don't… panic. Deep breaths. Deep... breaths.

"I-I came to Faire," Argon continued, a paw hitting her chest while a new vigor ran through her. "I came to Faire because I was told it was a place where anyone who puts in the effort can have a comforting life. That tree hasn't rotted yet, but it's up to us to make it bear fruit."

Her eyes nearly closed, bracing for a deadly silence. What she found however was a single tentative nod from the Buizel below, slowly growing to a dozen more while hushed whispers grew.

"I mean, it couldn't hurt, could it?"

"Would be pretty friggin weird seeing the grey 'mons I fought years ago walking the streets. Unthinkable almost."

"It'd be like a refugee crisis trying to integrate them across Faire."

"Won't ever be perfect. Nothing is, but it's a heck of a lot better than inciting chaos through the streets."

"I… I never questioned it before, but if the the same beings that we eat can talk like any other pokemon, what else have they been hiding from us?"

"Can't exactly send'em all back after today… can we?"

Across the way, Argon's ears perked up, catching a glimpse of a certain Charmander. He'd seen better days (a little bed rest afterwards couldn't hurt for the both of them), but something about that wide-eyed smile always had a way of helping her from the brink. She cleared her throat, beaming back with nothing to hide.

"Not everything will change overnight," Argon replied. "It'll be a long, cold process even with everyone's help, but… that's a small price for everything we'll gain. Each and every one of us will make history today. I'm sure of it."

"Argon?"

She turned, more than a little taken aback by the Bagon walking onto stage. He held a smile, no doubt, though... every step seemed a bit perturbed, as if he were walking up to the gallows.

"It's," Chimera continued, "it's good to see you. You all put on a hell of a show. I know a song and dance academy that could give Eoin's chops some good lessons. Could make a pleasant evening for you two."

Argon suppressed a chuckle, walking up to meet the Bagon. A long silence held between the two, the chatter of the crowd fading away. There'd been a pit forming in her stomach ever since he'd burst into that shed, knowing they'd end up on opposite sides of the barricade. Yet… were they?

"It's good to see you too," Argon replied, just a tinge of solemn to her voice. "I'm honestly surprised it went as well as it did. It looked bleak at times for all of us, but I don't think Faire will ever look the same after today."

"R-right," Chimera whispered, his gaze craned to the floor. "And… Argon—"

The Bagon nearly bit his tongue, hiding his shaking hands just a second too late from Argon. She tilted her head. It was only natural to be nervous today, but there was something in her partner's tell Argon couldn't put her paw on. Brown irises met blue as Chimera looked up. There was a tension in them, like a rat trapped in a maze, looking everywhere for the way out.

"I-I… I wish you the best for the future," Chimera finally got out. "You're up here, fighting for what you believe in. Come what may, that's all any of us can ever do..."

Argon couldn't get in another word before her partner did an about-face, heading off the stage.

"Chimera?"

No response. The Bagon's hands clenched each other behind his back. A long line of shade fell upon the stage as a cloud drifted by, only making clearer his trepidation. With a few second's pause, Argon took her own step forward.

Something was different about the Bagon she'd first found upon Faire's waves, but what?