Here again.
Black foreboding waves stretch as far as the horizon. Smoky clouds loom frozen in the grey sky, and there is no wind here. Sometimes he'll occasionally sense something massive in the empty sea below, so gargantuan as to cause the oceans to tremble in its presence. In the absence of wind, this presence - this thing is what creates the waves.
It has a name assuredly. But he's little more than a child compared to it. He may as well not exist here. He doesn't even have a body, nor a voice to scream for help or to be put out of this. No one ever hears him, not even that Familiar Thing.
Click, click...
The sounds aren't mechanical. They're an invisible voice, smacking the top of its maw. If he had a body, he'd shiver.
Click, click...
Seconds, hours, years? How long has Braviary been here? It feels as if he's been in this moment forever, drifting endlessly till time breathes its last. At least he is not alone.
Click…click…
This thing is slowing down. The world is beginning to lose pieces of itself. Everything becomes darker; the whole world stops.
Something speaks to him.
They're going to ask you to join them, but let's not fool ourselves into thinking you'll say no. Not to the child; especially not to the older one.
You've set yourself out to do two things: keep yourself out of the clutches of these groups and to find your memories. So far, you've failed at one, and now you're failing the other.
You always repeat this mistake. You know this, right?
He feels a tugging, more powerful than the waves around him. Something grasping for him, trying to pull him deeper - away from the water's churning surface. But his body, or lack thereof, eludes its fingers.
Go ahead, persist in this foolishness. One day you'll drown everything in wine and throw yourself to that Sea of Time. Then you will start all over again.
Is this your plan?
A second tug. He gasps, and saltwater pours through his nonexistent beak. The thought which follows is closer than it's ever been. It feels a whisper in his ear and an arm around his shoulder.
Then stay a little longer. They'll need you soon. And when the time comes, trust in yourselves.
His vision becomes a haze, his stomach full of stones. He plunges deeper as the waters around them fade to white. Before he loses everything he turns his form around and sees this being's face.
Someone is outside. Behind the door's curtain stands a tall, thin being Their eyes gleam a sickening yellow before they clutch their chest and vanish into the streets.
Think about it later. He's anything but coherent at this moment.
His senses return one by one: a garish blue room, a waft of Odd Incense, the faintest taste of saltwater on his tongue. He blinks again and again, adjusting his eyes to his surroundings until he lets out a groan. He sounds like a hatchling who doesn't want to leave their nest. But he has to; he needs to straighten his back.
It's never a fun thing to do. There's always this threat he's going to break something back there, pull a muscle and become bedridden. Sometimes he hears a crack, sometimes he hears a bone pop. It's usually no big deal. He's probably at least a good eight years younger than what he thinks he is.
It's gotta be his drinking, right? Adventurers know the taste of wine all too well. It's the best way to consume berries, second only to mystical potions. And since potions don't exist outside of certain Elixirs - it actually is the best medicine for most pokemon. It's why there's a tavern in every town; why guilds keep a stock. Oran over a wound will forever do the trick.
Okay stop - why the wine thoughts? Does he always think of wine when he has nothing to think about? He saw the outline of a pokemon watching from the window, gripping their chest like a heartbroken fool and a psychic who looked ready to join the Magikarp. They're fine of course, Leon is too. they're both staring at him, but the whole atmosphere of the emporium's much too different than when he left this place.
Somebody's gotta break the ice. As the pokemon who brought everyone here, it's Braviary's duty to start.
"So…what happened? I don't feel the fuzziness you were talking about Judeau, as a matter of fact it's like I had a quick nap." He stretches his wing. "Though I'd hazard to say I'm feeling particularly spiffy."
"That's good. What isn't is…" Judeau exhales. "Everything else. I wasn't able to find much for you, Braviary.
Another rock on the road, damnit.
"There a reason, or is my head that thick?" Braviary asks.
"I can't say. I experienced an unusual amount of resilience. I won't assume you were fighting my intrusions, so thus I believe there's something more to you than forgetfulness." Everyone knows he's a special case, this is confirmation from a credible source. "You are the first Faller I have had the pleasure of working with. Until I rule out this being the result of your unique circumstances, I'm afraid I can make only guesses as to why you're this way."
"If it is of any compensation: I am not charging you extra, and I'll cut the price of your next visit by half." They press a stubby hand up to their forehead. The Elygem's eyes flash a sickly green. "I'm as intrigued as you are about your memories."
"Make us three." Leon adds. "Four if you want to count Prinn, I'm sure he'd also want to know."
"Yeah, the kid's a bookworm and this head diving situation sounds up his alley. "Braviary coughs. There's a lingering taste of salt on his tongue. "Do you have an idea of what prevented you from digging deep, did you even manage to find something?"
"Emotions." They continue rubbing their head. "I noticed a repeated pattern of joy associated with long journeys, followed by pain and fear. This is the third time you've felt a similar joy."
He was drinking, and he did have company. Those two things go hand-in-hand with jovial feelings. Here's to hoping they last.
"Not because I expect you to be lying to me, Braviary, but did you by chance have anything metal inside or underneath your poncho? I need to start ruling things out."
Braviary pats himself down. Prinn has the Elixir, Leon has his money back, and the badge is lying on the table. There is only this one third-full bottle. Unless there's a shiv hidden somewhere - he's got nothing metal on him.
"I don't reckon." Braviary shrugs.
"And you're not made of steel either. I think it could be a memory getting in the way, trying to make you forget. It could be trauma associated with these repeating feelings of joy preceding spouts of negativity." A pen begins to write on its own. "I'll need a second poke to rule out my other options for sure, turn off the Odd Incense…"
"Is it that smell?" Braviary sniffs the air. Leon does as well. "What does it do?
"It is an Incense which enhances the abilities of psychic abilities, strengthens them." Judeau points towards the small pot in the distance. Thin vapors of smoke waft from holes in the top. "It keeps me focused when I'm at work. It's unlikely to be the source of the interference, but I'm trying everything I can."
Unless the smell was egregious enough to wake him mid-session, then there's no way the little thing's gonna cause any problem. What's more, if it's supposed to make Judeau stronger - then shouldn't it be the opposite? Under the effect of the incense they should be able to puppet him around like a doll. So, what's the deal here? Is the burner somehow faulty?
He can clearly see vapour pouring out of the pot. It's working fine. This whole situation makes his head hurt.
"Was there anything more you found or can I get a move on?" Braviary asks. "You seem tuckered out for the evening."
"There is one more thing, but I think you know already." If they had a mouth, they'd be grinning. "Your badge is important to you. You're afraid of what it represents, yet for some reason you've never let go of it. A psychic shouldn't have to tell you to keep it."
The brass or gold of the emblem catches the room's blue light in ways the Orbs on the table do not. This thing which has brought him so much trouble in his short time in this world, but because of its existence, he's got to meet the two people he'd like to be something of a friend. The badge unites them with its mystery. It's important, somehow. It's the key to all of…whatever he's to call his life now.
Braviary takes the badge into his wing and feels his old body tremble. He is nothing without this.
The badge snaps into its rightful place as Braviary stands up, flips his hat over his bald head, and stretches out his weary body. By the angle of the light through the windows, he'd say it was sometime past noon. In an hour from now the first signs of the seasonal dusk will blanket the world. They are running short on daylight hours.
"You're been a real help," Braviary dusts off his poncho, "not to mention you're pretty well mannered for one of you smart folks. I owe you a third visit. I can't promise if it'll be tomorrow or a week from now - we're all busy fellas."
"You can come back when you please. The more time I spend preparing for your next visit, the better." Then, as though an idea goes off, they shoot a look between the two pokemon. "Are you two from the Scholars?"
"I am." Leon answers. "My friend is an independent as you could tell by his badge. For the purposes of business or guild affairs - I'd ask you to treat us though he's one of ours."
Leon gets it. He's not dragging Braviary into this unless doing so's of use to both of them. He appreciates the gesture.
"You must be Braviary's connection to Froslass, then." Judeau asks, Leon nods back. "If it's not too much to ask, would you be kind enough to look into psychics on my behalf? I'm wondering if anyone has previously tried to probe the mind of a Faller."
"Way ahead of you, friend. I was already thinking about doing that." Braviary steps in. "Seems only right to check in with the biggest nerd of this Continent about this mystery I'm part of."
"She's not a nerd."
Leon's words were swift, quiet and venomous. A metaphorical dart hitting him in the abdomen; a dagger to the throat putting him back into place. Not even Braviary's post dungeon bickering got a response like this.
He looks back at him, expecting some form of glare, but Leon's eyes underneath the stolen hat are already looking away from him.
"We'll keep it in mind when we return to the guild. Whether or not Braviary's access is revoked when we get there is not up to me." Leon moves on. "Do you have anything else you want?"
Judeau quietly shakes their head. The Smeargle motions at the door with his tail then promptly makes his leave. Braviary is only a second behind, and they step into the afternoon glow together.
The current time was not the end of Business hours In Calico Town, though it is about the time when folks participating in the local trade begin running their goods back to their stone houses. From the second they step outside to the end of their walk, their brief jog to the square was silent barring the odd hums or quick words of observation. The part of their investigation where they ran around town berating bystanders was hours ago, and none of what they found during those activities was as insightful as the conversation with the orb vendor who Judeau let him know was Mismagius.
He has two strangers to thank for giving them the necessary leg up on his memories and their investigation. Come night, they'll have to wait around in the Tavern for the vendor to pull through for them. It's the perfect excuse to snag in a few drinks while they stew in the underground.
They stand at the door to the tavern, the surrounding market lulling itself as dusk slowly begins to cover the sky. A Charmeleon, using its fiery tail, goes from lantern to lantern preparing for the city for nightfall. And there are still many vendors about the square, selling the last of the day's wares while the final batch of customers roll through the marketplace.
At the door, Leon knocks before he reaches the handle. A confused Bravairy chuckles.
"Why'd you knock?" He nudges the Smeargle, stopping him at the peak of the stairs.
"I don't know. Maybe it is because I'm used to knocking on my guild's door when I'm out. Or could it be the fact I have no way of knowing if this place closes for any particular hour." Leon takes a step towards him. "Why are you asking?"
"Don't you reckon it's a little funny to knock on a tavern door like it's your neighbor's place?" Braviary answers. "We don't live here."
This tangent wasn't going to end. Why are they even talking about this? Are they both waiting for Prinn to shout at them from downstairs? Talking for the sake of talking could be its own reward, still…there has to be a point they're reaching for. Braviary is determined to witness it.
"Do you have a dream place?" Braviary rambles.
"A what?"
"A dream place, a home." The coot keeps rambling. "Maybe at the end of a dungeon or a landmark or something?"
Leon isn't sure of the point to this, neither is Braviary.
"I don't have a dream place I can say off the top of my head. I need a day to think about it" Leon answers, stoic as usual. "Would you want to live in a place like this?"
"As long as I get a discount on the drinks."
"I meant Calico Town, Braviary."
Oh…
"Guess the answer is more of a matter of if I'm a Noctowl or not, or if I'm sensitive to light or something." He imagines the light casting across the square, blinding everyone in it. "I betcha there's some early-risers around these parts who don't like the idea of the sky going up in flames every night, and I reckon there's probably as many folks who appreciate the extra light."
He half expects the Guild to light up with some dramatic timing. Maybe they're both waiting for it to go. It's way too early. Instead they're standing here like fools at the door to a tavern, talking about pointless things they'd ought to reserve for after a third glass. Where's Prinn anyways?
"Hey!"
There's Prinn, appearing from the thin blue from the market. The rabble must have been hiding the Prinplup since they got here. He looks overjoyed to see them.
"Why are you guys standing there?" Prinn asks, wobbling up to them. "Nevermind that, uh…did you guys find what you were looking for?"
"Investigation wise, yes." Leon peers into the tavern's depths, always watching their backs. "Braviary not so much."
"There was a whole lot of vagueness, and the not-at-all startling reveal that my head's a real pain in the back to dig through." He palms his forehead and drags his wing down his baggy face. "My noggin's hard on psychics poking around. I reckon I need another visit, and probably one or two more if they can't figure out what's the deal with me."
The deal is he woke up on a shore in the middle of nowhere with no memories of his previous life whatsoever. He's anything but ordinary. His resilience to mind tricks is not the least strangest thing about him.
"I hope so, Braviary." Prinn taps his flippers together. He's about to say something nonsensical, then he just doesn't. He turns to Leon instead. "You guys are done for the day, right? Can you show me how to uh…shoot good? I have a whole thing setup by the beach."
"Braviary?" Leon gives him a glance.
They've been given permission by their self-appointed leader to waste time until the ghost shows up. Leon's done all he needs to do for today. This is for Braviary to decide. Sure, why not watch them fire off moves by the shore? He's not gonna drink without his pals.
When Braviary shrugs, he unleashes Prinn. The monstrous blue creature takes Leon's arm and drags him down the nearest road to where he's gonna wind up shooting him with his puny moves. Braviary lags behind.
The previous time he was on a shore there was a good hundred-or-so feet cliff separating the flightless or exhausted from reaching the continents. Such a natural wall doesn't exist here. Instead, there's a four-foot drop of rocky shoals separating the land from the black sands. Cold wind blows from the sea, carrying with it waves and winter. Braviary looks out from the shoals searching the sea for something he's lost. A cold sensation brews inside his chest.
What is this feeling? Is it dread, is it comfort? He's been to this place in his dreams. He's always floating miles away from shore, freedom seeming so far away.
He wants his wings back.
"Is everything ready?" The shout of a Prinplup pulls his attention to Prinn and Leon, standing fifteen or so big steps away from his rocky perch.
He stood in the company of about ten or so bottles, four of them having the label of chesto wine, the rest were salvaged from numerous celebrations which had taken place here. Each of the ten stood on rocks of varying height and distance, their places marked with tiny x's drawn in with charcoal. There are more on the ground.
Braviary is their keen-eyed arbiter, here to keep tally of the scoreboard while also refreshing the targets. Assuming they hit every bottle and every one of them shatters, there's enough lying around on the beach for two rounds.
He looks at the two contestants. Leon has been a guardsman, a groundskeeper, and now a newbie adventurer. Every move up his sleeve is one he's gotten a chance to be familiar with. Prinn on the other hand is a complete newbie, but it is him who set up this range. He's been planning something like this for a while. If he's smart - there's no reason to think he isn't - then he may have snuck in a couple practice rounds well beforehand.
This might not be so one-sided.
"How are the rounds handled?" Leon digs his feet into the sand, head pointing to the range.
"We're gonna take turns shooting, one after the other." Prinn points to the left side. A bottle stands on a tiny rock. "We go from left to right. Whether we hit or not, we pass the turn and the guy aims for the next bottle. Two rounds, so like ten shots each."
"That's an even number, Prinn." Leon chuckles "What if there's a tie?"
"There won't be!"
Prinn's confidence is unlike his usual self. He'd say the Boy's chances are looking better by the second.
"Alright then." Leon prepares himself. He holds his tail, pointing the brush like a sabre. He's ready to slash those dastardly wine bottles. "I just agreed to a few rounds with Braviary. If I win, you're paying for those drinks."
Oh goodness, the boy's gonna bust the bank if by "those", Leon means both of their drinks. Is this Leon's way of keeping Braviary in line? Free things at the expense of anyone is not gonna make this awful bird feel remorse in the slightest. Prinn now looks the slightest bit trepidatious, but he quickly smiles. The boy already knows his demands.
"Well, if I win. You're gonna take all of us to a tailor to get some Prinn and proper outfits."
Egregious pun aside, they're both asking for a lot. Interestingly, Leon doesn't whine about it. It seems he meant both their drinks after all. Now with the stakes made clear the Smeargle waves with his other hand.
"Keep count, will you Braviary?"
Braviary nods. An abacus would've been nice.
Leon is first up. Not moving from his previous stance, Leon points his tail towards the leftmost bottle and squints his eyes. Then with a flick of his tail a glob of purple energy fires outward. The Shadow Ball clips the bottle with a splat sending it flying into a rock behind it, shattering it into countless flecks. A great opener.
Prinn takes a deep breath. Then as though his meal is forcibly about to eject from his throat, he cracks open his beak and shoots out a large swift-moving Bubble. It flies straight like a Spearow, for all of a few feet, before it veers right off its course. It hits the rock, missing its target by a long shot. Not good.
After a pose, Leon pitches another Shadow Ball. It hits. There's no words to be shared between these two. They're engaging in the closest thing to a battle the blue boy's ever seen. The roar of the waves and the howling of the wind are music to their showdown.
Prinn shoots again. It goes further, but a breeze catches the slow bubble. It soars off into the unknown. Leon also fails to hit his target.
By the third shot, he leaves Prinn's face. He stares down his oblong foe and something goes off behind his eyes. Braviary sees him crank open his beak but instead of hurling it then and there, he lets the bubble float in front of him. As though putting sense into an unruly pokemon he slaps it hard with the back of his flip. It hits its target spot on.
Things take a turn after this. The first ten end with six bottles broken. Two for Prinn, three for Leon. It's time for round two.
Shot after shot, each one stronger, faster and more accurate. There's less seconds between each shot, until it's practically instantaneous. Pop, pop, pop. Prinn hits the third to last square on. Now only two bottles remain: there's a single round left.
Prinn has five more points, Leon scores four. Seven to seven. Whatever sugar was behind Prinn is working. There's a real potential here for a tie. Everything in their banks was on the line at this point. Either they'll be getting some drinks, or some spiffy new outfits - it's all up to a coin toss.
Prinn's eyes glue themselves to the remaining two targets, waiting on Leon's next move with baited breach. If he gets this, then he'll guarantee a tie. He needs to hit this, or else his wallet's gonna feel the sting for the next few months. As Prinn studies the wind, the distance, the height of their target in comparison to him, Leon looks off. Smeargle isn't even looking at his target; he's watching Prinn from the corner of his eyes.
Braviary knows what's about to happen. He sees Leon's fingers twitch ever so slightly; the angle shifts angle. His eyes give Braviary a knowing glance, then he shoots, grazing the glass by an inch.
This isn't a freebie. It's up to Prinn to hit the final shot and break this tie. The boy's been lining up his shot this whole time, he's got a plan for sure, he only needs to execute it. He spits out a bubble, closes one eye, and spikes it with the palm of his flipper.
The hits the rock and erupts into a triumphant explosion. Prinn's done it.
Prinn nearly jumps as high as feet could take him and shouts as loudly as he can. A preciously smug smile is worn across his little face as he swerves back to Leon.
"You see that, Leon!" he pulls on Leon's tail, pointing to his victorious mess. "I told you so! You know what that means! I'm gonna be the fanciest adventurer in your whole guild! We'll go to the tailors and…"
Leon doesn't say a thing, Braviary keeps his beak shut. Prinn deserves his moment. It doesn't last long, because before Prinn could say another word looks around himself and lets out a nasty cough. Too much yelling, too many Water-Type moves spewed from his mouth.
"And uh...Hey…" The Prinplup coughs into his flipper. "Can I uh…go get a glass? My throat feels like sand."
Leon places a hand on Prinn's shoulder. He gives him a proud smile.
"We'll get you some Oran, you deserve it."
That makes three fools drinking tonight.
The Guild Tower's glow casting across the land marks the beginning of sundown. In an hour's time the tower will become a sun in the night sky. This marks the end of business hours. Vendors are packing up their wares, the only people seen trudging through the market are goons carrying off boxes for the frailer sorts. There's a Corphish in a blue sash watching everyone leave, as each vendor departs they waddle over to the empty plots to spray it clean with beams from their claws.
A handy little guy.
Familiar to them are the sounds of the Tavern. Minstrel's music is already in full swing, his voice - capable of mimicking any sound he hears - is playing back a duet. As two voices in one, he sings to the strumming of his talons and the drumbeat of his wings. The bird's show will always go on, with or without his hat.
Leon takes the cap off. It's the first time he's seen his hair without something over it - it's not a pretty sight. His fur up there's way too used to having something pulling it all down. He can relate, he's worn this hat before he woke up in this world. He'd hate to see what he looks like without the thing glued to his skull.
Leon takes the first point into the Tavern. To their collective surprise, there's more than just the five usual fools. None of these unfamiliar faces are flying the Sundown Guild's colors or possess their emblem, so they've lucked out. Sleepyhead is the only Guildie here, and hopefully it remains this way.
The others though...
There are two people here who are obviously guildies from a different guild. One was small, a Sneasel' who's signature feather pokes through a dapper blue hat. The other one was freakishly tall, even by Braviary's standards. So tall in fact their long lizard-like body took up the whole darned couch. Unlike their understated companion their body was a garish mixture of pinks, whites and blues. Neither of these people wear a badge.
Braviary looks at them too long. They turn their head, and he swears he can see their eyes become black. When he blinks they're back to normal. They look away like nothing's happened.
He'll keep an eye on this one. Just in case.
Then there is the third and fourth, a Braixen who looks to be part of the crew lighting the lanterns, and a Seviper coiled lazily around a bar stool. The serpent barely looks awake as it sips from a glass with its long forked tongue, while the aforementioned Braixen is currently chatting away to Vileplume as Leon marches up to the bar.
"A lighter Oran for Prinn." Leon points behind him. "Whatever he wants, and a bottle of Aspear for me"
Aspear, good for frostbite. A burnt, sour texture. it's an especially odd choice, the type which irks a certain few while certain others love to sip on it. This type of barely outside the norm brew is exactly what Braviary expects from someone like Leon. Braviary on the other hand…
"Spelon." Braviary taps the countertop. "I feel like burning my tongue off tonight."
"Spelon? That's a Sand Continent brew." The Vileplume mutters in disbelief. "You'll have to settle for Cheri in these parts."
He knows where to go for a vacation, then. Here he was hoping the rainbow of wines in the back had a bottle of this spicy potion.
"Good enough."
"I'll bring the bottles to you, some berries too." Vileplume points an empty glass at Leon. "And you'd better return what my entertainment wants."
Leon raises an eyebrow.
"Do I look like a thief to you?"
Vileplume doesn't give him a response. Leon shrugs, leaves a couple coins on the counter, and leads the two to the stage. There they see Sleepyhead lying in rest on the same old booth as well as tonight's entertainment. He's plucking away at a lute, tapping at a drum with his wing. He looks like a completely different bird without his hat; he's become this sad, crested little creature pulling his instruments in frustration.
When he catches a glimpse of Leon approaching his glee resurfaces, and he bids them a warm smile. He's even happy to see Braviary. Minstrel's song becomes an instrumental when he speaks.
"I was wondering where she went." By she, he means the hat in Leon's hand. "Was it you who swiped it, or did you have to give someone a beatdown?"
"Bounties are not my guild's speciality." Leon speaks, always quick to explain. "I can defend myself, but I am not the man to track down criminals. I swiped it for a second, exchanged hats with the Haxorus who I assume you gave it to."
Minstrel holds out a wing, and Leon surrenders the hat. The bard's hat fits snugly over his crest, flattening the black feathers out in a way which looks as though he's got a tuft of dark hair in the back. The resemblances to Braviary are racking up.
"I couldn't convince her to change seats no matter how nicely I ask her. So I use her face to hold my hat." He motions behind them. "As you can see, I won't need to disrespect her anymore."
Haxorus has a brand new addition to her outfit: an especially long yellow scarf which looks like it'd pair nicely with Minstrel's big old hat. It wraps primarily around her shoulders, over the red sash she was already wearing, and both ends tie together in front of her face. The scarf is dreadfully bright, to a point where it's hard to even notice the faint stitches of bells and sunrises scribbled all along it. This thing screams obnoxious. It must be Minstrel's idea of a prank.
Every so often, Braviary hears Haxorus shudder while she sleeps. It could be that she's having a nightmare. He'd have bad dreams too if his friends were as annoying as this bard. It's not like his dreams have been anything pleasant. He always wakes with faint feelings of doubt and the blurry afterimages of a great Sea. The where, why, or meaning of these repeating nightmare are as lost to him as his memories; drowning below the unfathomable waves.
Whatever his friends are saying becomes noise. The bar tunes out together, the music becomes a drone in his ears. Braviary's vision is a blur, focused only on this afflicted pokemon. Her armor-like scales move in a meticulous fashion: all to the rhythm of her quiet breathing. When she shudders in her sleep, her armour reverberates like a ripple in a pond. He's seen this exact thing before.
What is she dreaming about? Are they the same as his?
"Can you hear me, lady?"
Silence is always an answer. He hasn't moved for…minutes. Leon and Prinn are already seating themselves. The only one left when he looks behind him is Minstrel.
"She's not here. She'll be back soon." The Chatot's words bring him relief. "She'll get up eventually."
"I'd hope so."
His friends had taken the booth directly opposite of Haxorus' spot, another L-Shaped seat with a square table. The "back" side has the bigger seats for pokemon of his size, while his crew shares the other two quite comfortably. He slides himself in as Vileplume rolls around with three bottles, three shining glasses and a complimentary bowl of assorted berries.
Prinn pours half a glass, Leon studies his label, and Braviary starts off with a straight drink from the bottle. The spicy, faintly sweet taste isn't quite the scorching hot flavour of Spelon though it is much more drinkable. He'll be done with this in twenty minutes tops.
"I thought this was an import." Leon pours himself a glass of the yellow fluid. "Disappointing."
"Disappointing?" Braviary motions at the bottle. "Appearances aside, I reckon it looks fine."
"Well, uh…" Prinn takes a tiny sip. "Lapis Town's way, way out from here. It's really cold. When the bad season hits it gets so cold that some pokemon freeze solid. Aspear berries are a good way to stop that, plus if you make juice made out of them never freezes."
"I've done a run or two in the cold season. Aspear's a necessity.." He downs half his cup in a swift gulp. His tail shudders afterwards. "The type brewed in Lapis Town is medicine first, wine second. It's not like Oran where the berry itself is good. These berries are bitter, hard on the outside. I heard stories of people choking on pieces of the shell which made it through the filter."
"Sounds awful..." The bird takes a second gulp. Still no burning feeling. "Then why buy it, couldn't you have asked beforehand?"
"Because I still like Aspear, no matter where it comes from." Leon raises an eyebrow at him. "Did I say I didn't like it?"
"Those weren't your exact words, but…" Bravairy hasn't had enough drinks to fall for this one. He shakes his head and laughs. "Forget 'about it. How's the Oran treating you, boy?"
"I mean, it's about the same as the Enigma stuff. I don't have to like, drink alot of it this time." Prinn's been plucking the juiciest looking ones out of the bowl, squeezing their juices into his mouth like a beaky executioner. "Did I tell you about that, Leon?"
A couple of the feathers on Braviary's neck puff up.
"About what?" The smeargle asks.
Leon pours himself one and a half glasses. He slides the half cup over to Braviary. Without a word, Braviary does the exact same, completing the trade.
"When we got here they wouldn't let me in," the Prinplup shot looks between his two partners "and Braviary got the bright idea to uh…"
"To take a good shot of Enigma to show he ain't this dumb kid they think he is." Braviary laughs, like getting a youngster to drink is a matter of pride. Because it is; the boy's stronger than he looks. "You can handle your drink for a little guildie. You surprised everyone yesterday, and earlier too. You're a pretty decent shot."
"Oh, uh." Prinn gives him an awkward smile. "Thanks, Braviary."
"We wouldn't be drinking here right now if you hadn't made that call." Either he's turned a blind eye, he's already had too much, or he's actually proud, because after this Leon holds up his Cheri Glass. "A toast to us getting this far?"
"Why not?" Bravairy raises his aspear in Turn.
Prinn quietly offers his Oran, and this nameless Team of fools come together with a joyous clink. He drinks his glass straight away.
The Aspear is bitter, and dry. It leaves the mouth thirstier than the spiciest berries in the world would leave any ordinary Pokemon; however it lingers in him in a manner unique to its own. It's not a hot aftertaste, not in the way berries are. It's almost warm, like a hot meal after a trek through a blizzard. The wine is comforting in the way the company of these two strangers have become.
Who is he kidding? They're not strangers, they're his friends.
The two down theirs seconds after. The toast gives Prinn the courage to finish his glass, after which he slams the glass down in dramatic triumph. While Leon takes his shot like it's a medicine, swallowing it in a single motion and letting his insides process the poison he's thrown into his body. Fittingly, Leon's the only pokemon who coughs after this exchange.
Ordinarily, this was a great way to end a night. But they're in a tavern, a tavern with music. He's got friends and three drinks inside him.
Oh no, he's not thinking about doing that is he?
He's not even sure if he's keeping track of his thoughts, time, or his intake anymore. His mind's become empty after the Aspear, void of strife or anything other than what his company fills it with.
Kindness, joy, compassion - all these warm things he can finally see from underneath an empty bottle. He takes a drink, another more. The bottle runs empty and he taps into his reserve to wash down the spice with the caramelly taste of Enigma Wine. It's when he's at his most inebriated, do the songs of a Chatot begin to sound like something more than its usual melodic noise.
It took an hour, but the music begins to make sense.
Swift strums accompany either acapella or an ancient tongue. The whistles of a flute are in Minstrel's mimicry - all of it is deeply familiar to him. This song, or spell, feels as ancient as the world itself. Braviary stumbles away from the booth and his movements are no longer his own.
He begins moving in ways he's never done before, twisting his body, swerving like a Swanna. It's erratic, it's swift, but his drunkenness lets him maintain his momentum like an alcoholic pendulum. He's achieving flight in a whole new way. He's making a miracle happen.
Braviary reaches out, and Leon joins him onstage. Maybe just to entertain him; maybe he's not in control either. As Braviary moves, Leon matches with equal grace. Swipes of a brush accentuate his deliberate steps, painting an invisible landscape with each brushstroke. Prinn watches next to a Haxorus, Vileplume pretends to ignore what's unfolding and behind his dear friend is a halo cast by a golden feather.
There are no nightmares here, there are no wretched thoughts. His only enemy is time. This song has an end: he has a minute left, two at best.
Braviary takes the hand of Leon and guides him. He shows him how to keep his feet off the floor, how the thing possessing him wants the Smeargle to move. They shoot back and forth, reprising the other's moves with drunken bravado. Seconds away from the song's final curtain, they reach perfection.
This is bliss; pure drunken happiness. Braviary may never feel it again.
When the final note tolls, he pulls Leon towards him and holds his friend close. He feels the Smeargle glare at him in bewilderment, but Braviary's eyes are glued shut. The only thing which matters to Braviary is the warmth of holding someone in his wings.
He doesn't want to forget. He'll cling to the memory of this moment as long as he can, but the Sea will take this and everything he knows.
He's powerless.
Braviary buries himself into Leon's shoulder as whimper rises from his throat, and a tear drops onto the Smeargle's fur. The music ends, he lets go.
His breath has become unbearably heavy. A pounding in his head fills the silence of the tavern, and two days worth of meals are slowly rising to his throat. There is nothing left for him here other than the confused faces of everyone watching this scene unfold. There is no way he can answer all the impending questions in this miserable state; he needs to get away from all of this.
Braviary looks towards the stairs. His talons pick up speed as and…
He blacks out.