Me: Anyone else realize I forgot to say I was going to a summer camp for two weeks?
-kricketunes in the background-
… yeah love you too.
Ashley: :3 I don't take shit like that and remember to tell others. I kind of zone off, all of your damnations like that.
Me: Is that even a word?
Ashley: Is what even a word?
Me: Byrender beaver bibarel dam nations?
Ashley: PFFFT. COVERUP. I SMELL IT.
Me: IS IT A WORD?
Ashley: I HAVE NO IDEA?
A Deaf Flame's Flicker
Chapter Eight: Scenarios Sure to Make you Happy Cry
They rose in bumbling, tittering, teetering, tottering clumps of the finest, softest, most lavish blankets Munchie felt he would ever see in his entire life—fate had elbowed him right on that—and at first seemed unable to escape their plush though disastrous cage. Was it even a cage? It felt more like a big, ugly, certain dad was hugging them into suffocation into death. Ashley's dad, to be exact: Dusknoir, to be even more exact. Sometimes the most specific pronouns were needed because not everyone guessed right on the first try. But that was who it was, and that was who Munchie's scraggly mind thought of when he was stuffed by those wonderful arrays of blankets. Like a hill of pure amazing awesomeness he never wanted to get out of. Luckily for him, everyone else was pretty much stuck too. Unfortunately, they knew how severe the punishment was if they didn't get this whole screwed up future thing looked at and fixed, like it was an elderly disease that needed looking at before it like took over your entire body and picked your carcass, then whatever was left of your frayed soul, clean.
That scared Munchie a little less than it should have at first. Maybe he was still a little groggy; maybe something didn't fit quite right in his long, idiot, angular—triangular—ears, but Ashley sure wasn't having it. Flaming orbs and long, slim fingers dove into him and barreled his wrapped figure up then down then straight off his kingdom throne hillock bed thing and sent him reeling nigh through the open doorway. Influence smirked an ugly, green smirk as his red underbelly rippled like a tongue flicking out at him—that disgusting Influence—as he curled the door back like a banana peel and Munchie limply fell to the ground just in the entrance of Jalendalynne's bedroom. It was followed by a frrrrrrUMP, like sound hadn't quite caught up with gravity. Or maybe he just took an extra moment to slip from his blankets. Jalendalynne's blankets. Yeah. Those. For after he fell, even though he was outrageously thin, it still made quite a hounding sound. To him, it sure did. Maybe not to any of his friends, but to him, oh yeah it did.
Munchie pathetically shook his head a few times, dusky blue fur puttering about him, and screwed up his jaw, letting those crooked, white teeth sticking out feel somewhat fierce for the time being. They sure liked the sudden attention. Made him feel a little scary, too. Of course, even if he'd been a real munchlax or something as horrendous as Ashley's dad the black wisp monster guy with a face for a stomach, Influence the grovyle blinked his dull, yellow orbs that just cast him aside mentally and ripped for an arm, his own squishy, green fingers slashing through the air. Munchie winced and stepped back. His feet didn't really help, hence he tripped over some blankets, and fell, and Influence grabbed a toe and dragged him. This, and all he'd tried to do was look a little impressive, a little scary. Freaking Influence; freaking Ashley's mate. That scarlet-colored underbelly seemed to mock him as he was dragged a few paces, then hastily slumped against the wall.
As it was broaching some time of the day where the sun was out, and this hadn't been so prior, Munchie decided it was best he catch a glance at the colors and looks of his gentle pichu friend's room before they had to leave. It felt righteous or something. Chivalrous—no, maybe... just kind of him. Courteous. So anyways, those knots of blankets, so reluctant to let go of the pokemon they'd hooked onto like feisty monsters that scared the heck out of poor Munchie, were fairly heavy-looking and had odd, floral patterns stamped across them then weaved back together so it kind of looked nice but also super uptight. Munchie wasn't so sure he could pull off super uptight, but apparently that hot mess of covers had served as his bedding last night, so it seemed he could. Maybe. Sort of. Just maybe. Munchie crossed his fingers a little at that last part.
Diverting his attention back to being courteous and understanding how regal and cool his humble rest place had been to him and how it just looked it, dark orbs rimmed with light hope scattered back to the yawning door, white with gold pattern, to the room of the tall, daffodil-yellow pichu girl Jalendalynne. Her long, stretched pink scarf trekked on the soft white carpet behind her as she scuttled to and fro of the room, reorganizing her knotted, mottled bunches of blankets in that one corner and rows of windows just to the side of that corner ambled out light, not held together by their pink curtains as they maybe should have been, Munchie couldn't tell. He was a thin munchlax. Heck if he knew anything. Past the windows were streamers of thick, white fog and maybe a patch of blue called sky. No yellow stripes—no sunshine—obviously shone through. Sad as it was. Why the impeccably rich or something family chose to live in the middle of mucky woods chock-full of fog and mist made no sense to him. Did they want their child to live a lonely life of solitude with nothing but parents and creepy trees to accompany her? Or relatives—what kind of family was this thing? Then Munchie recalled of his skinny self and his abstain of parents though it wasn't really his choice more their choice because he was skinny and a child and they were like no this thing is not going to become a strong munchlax and thus he was deposited, and thus he had no parents to live in the creepy, foggy woods with.
And sad as it was, he'd have rather lived in the creepy, foggy woods with his parents than have no parents at all. Well... that wasn't so sad. He didn't know the feeling of that unconditional parental love thing that most parents didn't abide well toward. Munchie sure saw that Jalendalynne, though, her family seemed to slip into that role rather nicely. He hoped he would get to see her again and that he wouldn't die or something later on. Then the munchlax's stomach released a thin pang of a howl and he remembered what food was. If those blankets in that pichu's room could make a food-polishing creature like him forget—he didn't want to know what they were made of. Heavenly, but... deadly? He didn't know. Munchie wasn't sure if he wanted to know, either. Whatever that strange family did, he suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to know about it. Munchie's head hurt. Oh yeah, he was hungry. He wanted food. Food made everything better. Well, unless your main problem was a terrifying dad with a face for a stomach. Could the face, like, eat anything that was thrown at it? Well the last time he'd seen the yellow slit pour open, it was to suck in the munchlax and his nearby buddies whom of all were flung into that crazy realm of the future. The screwed future, as Ashley called it. Simply... the future.
Like the deaf one knew he'd just thought of her and felt sorry for her sad life, she rippled with a sudden, violent curse. Munchie's breath was knocked away at it, and he blinked slowly, stunned and not sure on how much he liked hearing that. In the end, though, he had to thank his chimchar friend for her careless cussing streak because as his strange, angular head tipped around, white hallways with white carpet encompassed his sight and began closing in. If not for that utter of such a dirty word—Ashley's mouth must have been metaphorically caked with crusty, grimy gruel—Munchie may have never heard her and weaved to the right, but not a complete right, down a left, and found her again. Man, those hallways were asking for them to get lost.
Then the munchlax learned the reason why his short, somewhat stout, and long-fingered and -footed friend that he cared so unreasonably much for had used the word in the first place. She was lost. And now they were both lost. Realization dawned like the sun over a morning field, and Munchie was stricken with idiocy. Of course. Of course. She cursed all the time, but not always like that. "Aw..." he mumbled off to himself. "Aw... what did I do..." Ashley used that word again and Munchie was tempted to land a fist on her head because he was mad at himself for being stupid. He didn't know why that involved landing a fist on Ashley's cute orange-hair bob over her head, but apparently it did. The emotions he felt for her fizzed from the tips of his fingers and toes and met up somewhere between—what, his heart? Ew, probably not, this wasn't that feeling. Maybe. He hoped not. After that, Munchie spent some time trying to shake off the carbonation it happened to bring, but that didn't seem to help. His heart felt shaken up and seemed to bubble within him. Strange. Very strange.
A call piercing just as awkwardly as his fingers had directed Munchie toward the lanky, scratchy owner of the tone with the rasping whisper. "Over here, stupids! The girl said there was food we could raid back there!" His call came alive inside of the munchlax, whose fur began to shiver in clumps at the realization of the moment—he was saved, he was saved by the dratted grovyle—but Munchie obediently followed a couple of rights, then a couple of lefts, then another left, then what looked like a drop off a top of a staircase the munchlax didn't remember scaling prior. Again with the strange.
Surely enough, dull, yellow orbs leveled with Munchie, but they soon caught up on Ashley's flames. He mouthed a few words that could have been chewed into anything, and Ashley slowly responded with a slur: "The fuck're you calling stupid, bastard? And we don't raid. Dammit, we're helping these folks." A snort. "Fucking bimbo. He's a Jojo alright. Heeeee's a Jojo." The joke from some time ago about that name popped in Munchie's head. He felt like a bimbo, a Jojo, himself, and blinked sourly. Ashley had called him that, too, once upon a time, like he'd been a runt. He supposed he was—seriously, look at this pathetic munchlax skinnier than the chimchar beside him, maybe the grovyle too. Still... hearing Ashley use that on Influence made it teeming with feelings like it was an insult or something. Its meaning had flipped over like a beached wailmer, right back into the ocean where it belonged. Munchie blinked timidly, losing himself half to sleep and half to wailmers.
"Okay, Influence, are you ready to start being nice again?" He grunted something. "Shit—that's not what I asked for, bitch bucket!" Grumbling morphed into agitated noises in the back of that long, sleek, green throat. "Not that either! Dammit, Inf, spill the fucking words already! Spill them or I'll spit on you—you fucking know I will!" It took grueling amounts of effort: the nagging, the threatening, the actual act of Ashley's spit flinging from her lips and splattering against Influence more than once, the guilt-tripping, and the reminder that the future was screwed and guess what he was part of it. Also he was a lot worse than Munchie. That last part finally tottered him over and out rolled an apology of sorts.
"Great! Now tell us where this dining hall Jalinlenduh... that sounds about right. Where's the dining hall she told you about? Or the mess hall? Or whatever fucking hall we're supposed to digest food in and not starve? I dunno if you knew this, you fucking imbecile Influence, but we kind of do need sustenance in the present. So... what the hell are we doing."
Quickly Munchie whispered a correction: "Jalendalynne." Ashley smirked and nodded. Sorry, he had to.
This long string of Ashley and her coarse, fiery dialogue, lighting up like the fiery tail on the other end of her body, sent Munchie back to quietly, awkwardly observing around. His head swerved like how some bird pokemon flew, and that was sad: sad for the bird. Sad for his head, too. Blinking almost irritably, he acknowledged a few corridors sticking out like toes from the foot of the clean, white hallway. The same white carpets accompanied the same white walls, but there were curtains that strung from a light, peachy yellow and a more gilded—sort of golden—texture outlined and patterned a few chosen fabrics hanging from such walls. The ceiling was so high up the tallest guy in the world—even bigger and scarier than Dusknoir—could shoot up a spitball and not hit the very top. He was not kidding. Munchie was trying to be as serious as possible with that mansion's height. Some of this thing must have been in the ground, in a hill, like the guild, or everyone would have seen and crashed it by now, geez. But he continued observing the interesting, intricate corridors swinging from up high above with grace and strength like nothing this pathetic, skinny munchlax could do. White and yellow paralleled frequently, and dots of pink—dots of flowers, really, painted ones mostly though a few dots of such looked real and the air smelled like roses—hung elegantly. Flowers, man, they were elegant. Elegant like nothing else this guy had ever seen.
That long string of Ashley and her coarse, fiery dialogue was followed by a lot of nothing and a lot of observation and staring. Almost too much for Munchie to handle, making him want to screech or something and let it out. Thankfully, the tree-like Influence caved before the scruffy mammal could and stated, "She told me they have food. She told me we'd need it. She told me to wait for her and she'd help, but that's as far as she's going. What the hell else do you want from me, dammit?"
And the chimchar in question—if it wasn't Munchie in question, and he sure hoped it wasn't—blinked tenderly. A mock tenderly, because first she spat at him and winked a flaming orb. "I think that's enough, actually. Shit. You're fucking whiny today, man. What did you do, wake up with the girl's foot in your mouth?" Actually, he had; Munchie recalled him with that foot cuddled against him and since he was an eavesdropper and he knew a lot more than some pokemon when it came to social circumstances, he knew that, too. But if anything, he felt sorry for poor Jalendalynne. She was the one stuck with that creepy, futuristic grovyle breathing down her leg. Her leg, of all things. He was cuddling with a poor little pichu's leg—mature as she was, he called her poor and little for the sake of propaganda. Some pokemon weren't liked by others, and Influence just happened to be one that crawled up Munchie's skin and died there. He would never be able to lose that feeling. He just... he just knew it.
Apparently, even though the truth was flat up in his face, Influence said nothing. They all kind of sat around with limpid expressions, staring at everything but one another. Well, no, Munchie and Ashley caught glances and chafed pleas of help at each other a couple times—at least, he had, she kind of looked lost and desperate but he couldn't be sure—but that was it. Nobody made a move for Influence; Influence didn't make a move for anyone. So... they were waiting for that softhearted pichu with the look of a posh dandelion or daisy to join them and assist their idiot selves. More shuffling, like ghosts were out, came from a room down some maze of a passage or another, but it was really just Jalendalynne fixing up those blankets and her room a little more. Munchie idly wondered if she had some pretty birch wood dressers or something smocked in gold and maybe glazed with some nice white stowed away in that room somewhere he'd missed.
The footsteps condensed down on them like lingering drizzles of rain. All they heard in the white chambers were the soft thump, thump, shump of tiny, yellow feet moving on carpet as gently as they did. The hot, awkward tension in their cramped foot of a corner only bloomed as the footsteps ensuing them added on, grew louder, and proved to be coming to a close. Nice and close to Munchie and the futuristic friends that were actually mates which Munchie hated and felt like Ashley didn't deserve. Honestly, who did deserve Influence? Not his old, kind mom whose name Munchie was sure was Rock, or any of those adorable little treeko kids, or even the strange mom and step-mom the fiery biped beside him had that were practically family to him. Oh. Maybe her dad deserved him. Dusknoir and Influence? Did that... work out right? Fearfully tiptoeing around the thought of a monster like that black gaseous creep in his presence, Munchie decided that even though he was devoid of enjoying this and feeling happy about the present, or feeling happy about making a difference and making everything pretty and sparkly again, or feeling happy—or feeling emotions whatsoever: even though all of that junk was going on with Influence, or wasn't, really, he still stuck around. That made him seem like such a good role model Munchie wanted to cry from the hatred pooling out of him. It puddled, though, it did.
Thankfully there was a small staircase of perhaps a trio of steps Jalendalynne had to cross before she was on the same level as her buddies just below, and she happened to stutter over one step or another and, whoops, trip and dangle in the air before unceremoniously landing on a soft landing pad. No, there weren't landing pads in the room. The landing pad was the color of the night sky, and his name was Munchie. The landing pad was—yes—a male. It had a gender. Shaking himself off, Munchie the now-retired landing pad helped ease the cute and still petite girl from her rough landing like all kind men should, vowing to never do that again if he could stand it. The tall but still short pichu twitched her cute, large ears, their motions like long stalks of grass on a dry, summer wind, and accepted his assistance, mumbling a thanks or so. Removing her fluffy, yellow hand from his scruffy, blue one, she poised in step, an icy breath of wind now in winter before meeting with the earth. She shook herself like he had, only delicate with somehow splendor. "We should... eat... and recover... before you leave," was all she had to say after the nasty spill.
Simple. Munchie always liked that about the girl. She asked to be his friend and suggested things they probably needed and she was either incapable of or didn't appreciate yelling, and she was pretty fantastic, albeit. Even with that knot of positive things stacked up in her favor, Munchie found his strangely addled mind thinking in fascination about how—strangely—cute the chimchar beside her was, long hands and feet, that orange bob of hair with the longer, knotted tips, the flaming orbs, and everything else too that he didn't mention. Why was he finding this primate adorable at this moment as he released Jalendalynne's hand and strayed back from her, arm crashing into the back of his head like he was either cool or excessively embarrassed? And obviously the latter was what everyone knew had to be true? Embarrassing, it was. Munchie was a big embarrassment, and that was that. He huffed out a breath on his own, but didn't feel all that much better. Oh well. He shrugged, elbow bending in a funny direction. Munchie's arms then swayed to the sides they were supposed to sway at and stopped trying to do whatever it was. Everyone but Influence had stared at him like he was turning mad: the one who hadn't glared at the space in the air above him, like he wanted a chunk of the plaster in the walls to knock over and kill Munchie. Oh, didn't he feel loved at that moment.
Wordlessly, they followed the little electric-type through her large, strange, labyrinthine home of splendor and prettiness and the specific aroma of roses. Quite a marvelous mansion, though this scruffy soul was the kind of creature who didn't see enough mansions to compare this one to any of them. He honestly had never even been remotely close to setting foot in one until that moment Jalendalynne was all like they had to rest why not rest in her house. Kind of her; smart of her; and Munchie now had bragging rights. Guess what: he'd seen a mansion's interiors! Oh yeah, everyone would totally be jealous of him. Sarcasm nearly suffocated him, clogging up his throat like wads of his fur got caught up in his windpipe. Well, in sudden reminder: Mystic wouldn't have been jealous. She was a princess, right.
Thinking about his missing friends and wherever their lost gallade girl had gone off to brought in sadness and shame like buckets of tears he had to carry on his shoulders, so for the sake of himself, Munchie tried not to think of it all that much. It sort of kind of helped him.
Passing by the open arm of the door creaking out by a crook to Jalendalynne's precious and gigantic room, Munchie glanced toward its interior and the sunlight-glazed windows again, but he didn't catch enough sight of it as the pace they streamed was fast and they had to shovel in food and get outside and talk about their master plan thing to save the world. Man, this was quite the scenario. It was one of those things nobody believed unless they were either unbearably gullible or had been there, done that. Ducking past enough hallways, enough stairs, enough doors held shut in their faces by gold knobs, they fell into a rhythm of searching about the mansion. It came and went through the motions, Munchie and Ashley and Influence mostly following their humble guide in a clumped knot of curiosity, confusion, and also a special thing the futuristic buddies called, and again, he only quoted because it was only right, holy-shit-what-is-this. They didn't even say what the "what is this" part meant. It was simply known as "what is this," and that was that. Munchie didn't always like ending on a solid that was that with no answer. It slightly irritated him, not knowing, being left off then and there. Fortunate for him, their food was not one of those matters, for surely, soon enough, with a gleeful nod of her bubbly head, Jalendalynne pointed out a heavy and tall set of double doors she crooked open, inviting her guests in. Munchie couldn't say for the others, but he felt like a speck of dirt in a perfectly clean world. It felt wrong to belong in such a magnificent set of doors: but yet... he did, odd as it was.
First it was the living pichu welcoming them to this huge banquet-like setting. Then the chairs seemed to beckon with their yawning openings, just asking for their behinds to sit and rest and the tables asked for their presence in front of them, and the flowers loitered on tables, passed out like food on real banquet ceremonies with the tables. The flowers asked for them as well. Geez, did anybody ever live here? Who went in all of those crazy rooms all the time? Either this family was passionate about simply being rich, they had a lot of guests, or, you know, they were mental. He was sure they weren't though because of how effulgent this beautiful place was, it made his sad, dark orbs cry sad tears. Metaphorical tears. He didn't legit weep or anything, that'd be sad, sadder than he already was on his own with his skinny, mangled appearance. But the rows of tables beckoned, and the posh, white chairs with their pink cloths seemed to shift anxiously in place, so Munchie and friends took a spill on the floor. The white carpet felt... so much more comfortable. What started as a desperate munchlax scooting on the ground became the trio sitting together, legs crossed like children and everything.
"Damn, this place was regal." Ashley had a knack for breaking the silence. If silence was ice, Ashley—well—she already was perfect for the job. Munchie had to be thankful for that, how casually she could meld through conversation like the last thing she'd directly said didn't involve spitting at her mate or anything. "Well, this place is regal. Everything is the shit over here. The bedrills' knees, whatever the hell satisfies you. This place:... this place..." She blinked angrily, stuck out her tongue. "Fuck." She stopped, scratched her head with one set of long, sand-colored fingers. "I have no idea what to call this damn masterpiece. I fucking lost it. Shit shit shit shit. Shit." She blinked profusely with each curse as she ambled onward.
"Well, I'm fucking happy you enjoy this place's shit, but what the hell is ou—"
"FANTASTIC! AHA! I FOUND IT! PRETTY DAMN FANTASTIC. FINE AND ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY DAMNDY."
When she toned down to a burning silence again, Influence found himself capable of continuing. "What the hell is our plan, Ashley?"
"You know what it is. Why the fuck are you asking me?"
"Because Munchie doesn't, and I'm fucking looking out for him, and I don't feel like talking myself." And Munchie saw why; that guy had a mean whisper for a voice. A raspy halt of tone, like ballroom dancing that abruptly stopped, then started, then someone stepped on someone's foot and it stopped, ceased, moved on, stopped, all in bedraggled fashion. Then the munchlax, feeling such bedraggled sense, stopped cold on his own as it crashed a cold, hard avalanche on him that Influence just said a bunch of words from his sick snout that he never thought he'd live to hear. If that trashy grovyle said a thing that kind, it'd be at Munchie's funeral. Or maybe behind everyone's backs. Or maybe to please Ashley. But not... what? Wow. That was unexpected. Awkward moment. Munchie didn't know what to do to try to hide his uneasy surprise that felt a little nice but mostly left him breathless and flabbergasted.
As a lot of commotion set off like a bomb from Munchie's right, where a long, thin row of symmetrical doors that all opened to the right displayed food Jalendalynne was clambering for, Ashley gently shrugged her small, sloped shoulders. He found that position, so casual but with an air of a pout, cute. There was something wrong with him. Munchie was broken. How did he break, and how could he get himself fixed? Did anyone have some maple syrup on hand he could use to stick himself together again or something? "Well... the plan is... nn. We get some fucking fine and dandy delights to eat. We leave. We surprise-attack Mr. Dad of mine. That's the big stuff so far. Then I guess we'll have to save Jordan first since that's like the guild's thing or whatever..?" Not really sure, Munchie shrugged. "Great. We'll go over our other shit later. Just steps at a time. But if we can nab everything from my dad, then everything is that much easier. If you doubt our ability to do something as big as save the world, I'll kick. Okay?" Everyone nodded because Ashley looked like quite the kicker.
Established, order set in. Scurrying up to them, the cute, sweet, gentle pichu delivered what looked like bunches and bunches of food but seemed not even to make the smallest dent in those terrifyingly large stores of nourishment. Those mansion's cabinets seemed capable of dishing out desserts and nightmares on hand. Nothing left to do, the lonesome trio first gobbled down assortments of flavors, from rich and sweet to juicy to succulent to red-hot spicy, burning down a maw to putrid and bitter to shamelessly salty to sticky and sour, but as the numbers continued to pore at them and it was evident they'd need all the helpings they could force down, unknowing to when their next meal might be, the food became laborious and messy and covered both splotches of floor Jalendalynne made coordinated and careful haste to clean, and rainbows of stains arcing across each character. Even stupid Influence, who maybe was somewhat thoughtful of him because Ashley happened to like Munchie and he seemed to like pleasing Ashley, was polka-dotted in a various array of juices of all kinds of pulps and colors and even some stems stuck out like stumps or tree roots. Influence had evolved into a tree. Munchie sniggered and berry juice dribbled out of his nose. Ashley soon followed suite. Disgusting: but it was great.
The last of the entrails were devoured that Jalendalynne thoughtfully supplied, and they soon had nothing left to do but bid her farewell, remember she was their guide, get led around a little more like bumbling idiots, and then leave those marvelous doors behind to the fogs as they bid, finally, bid their friend farewell. Munchie let her know he'd miss her a lot and even began to tear up which he heftily wiped away and fooled nobody. The girl promised she'd tell her parents she finally had friends, to which they all were merry except maybe not Influence and the trio set off, leaving their musketeer behind to rest up and do whatever she did out there. It didn't take very many steps for Munchie to feel the pangs of sadness. The first step was not, in fact, always the hardest. Sometimes it took a few: then they all became the same hardest. But recognizing a certain chimchar and a certain grovyle made it easier. It did, honestly. It did.
Still, they had ground to cover. They had trust to secure and a terrifying daddy to... stop. Somehow. But it seemed that was what they had to do, because after that pep talk he'd attempted to give Ashley and seemingly succeeded in, she wouldn't take no for an answer. She would spit, she would threaten to kick—and then kick, she would snarl and howl and cause a wreck, but she would not take a no. She'd gallantly displayed this and passed her proving with flying colors with the racket Influence had been causing first.
As earth turned way to puffy fog and puffy dirt, and it became a struggle to distinguish where he could place his foot next, Munchie noted silently that it wasn't too bad to go off without shy and flowery Jalendalynne. He just: like the guild, he knew her. He truly knew this creature like with his brain and heart and stuff, and they had a connection and everything. And then he had to leave like he did his other buddies because the world was at stake and Jalendalynne—she was even more antisocial than Munchie and was ready to stop before she began dragging the others down. Munchie quietly took in the denting, dawning moment that the girl had invested her faith toward that loopy trio. If she couldn't trust them, she would have probably ran along with their idiot selves anyways and tried to make things right, whatever things were wrong. Which, honestly, there were a lot of things wrong with them. Flaws stuck out like Munchie's crooked teeth when it wasn't so stiffening with fog. But here they were, anyways, and she'd trusted them. That made his feet propel and hit the earth with satisfying slaps each time, and Munchie found that in a debatable sense, he was a little brave now. More than just a blind follower, but a brave follower, heck, practically a leader since it didn't look like they really had leaders. Well, Ashley was feeding out her plan to him slowly, so he didn't know all that much—being a gifted eavesdropper let it sink in that she was keeping something at bay for now, hiding it from him—but he knew something and he felt kind of brave and dang it, let Munchie see what he wanted to see. If he wanted to believe he had actual good things about him—actual self-esteem moment here—then why not. Why—the heck—not.
For a few moments afterword, Munchie felt like an inflated hothead and smiled at himself. Influence whipped his head back a few times to get a good look at those cavernous rocks of teeth, the long, dark leaf on his head swiveling with every crack of his head motioning, and seemed to smirk. He didn't do much else. Those creepy, squishy green fingers kept to themselves, swaying by his side regularly like a metronome in place, keeping its pace over and over again. Because Munchie wasn't all that good with time, he didn't have much to say on the matter. He'd seen the future and the present and felt like he'd only gotten more lost in this cold, dark space-time continuum that could be accessed by a gaseous man's face stomach. Things just got stranger in his life. He welcomed it because he'd welcomed Ashley, but still, most pokemon didn't see things like Dusknoir. The poor guy could hardly process that sort of... uh... thing. Just thing. Just how.
Either way, he felt pleasantly proud of himself. Not sure why, just a sort of aloof joy. Perhaps because he was surrounded by fog and Dusknoir hadn't showed up yet so he could still be happy for the time being. "Hey, Ashley..?" He paused, and so did the voice: his voice: his soft whisper, the husk faithfully eclipsed over it. "Do you ever think of staying here, in the past? With..." He wanted to say me but didn't because Influence was right there and that would be kind of awkward. Stupid Influence. It was instinct by now. "With the... sunshine and everything? And the happy stuff? And sunsets? And... uh..." he didn't know what else to say but, "hugs?"
It just... it kind of felt right in the moment, but now he wasn't so sure. Munchie felt the need to shrink into his dusky, raggedy fur after trying to suggest such a thing that was probably really dumb and putrid and everyone would hate him because... because everyone would. Munchie, no, he consoled himself, shut up. Shut up, brain. He was fine. Try to be... like, brave or something. He had Ashley. Heck, he had Influence. Feel the bravery, man. "Uhh..." She left it cut off for a moment, then whispered something, and a rasp whispered back that was Influence, and the huddling motion to his side slumped in a shrug. "Er... I mean, yeah, I'd... d-diddly-damn like to..." Another shrug. "That would be fun, I suppose. Shit like that..." Still, it felt off. Munchie knew it, Ashley certainly knew it, and it seemed even tree the influential grovyle—sorry, he couldn't help it—was in on the little secret with her. She wanted to, but she didn't take it for... granted? Something socked him in the stomach and churned up his breath inside of him, icy and hot and steamy and breathless, all in all. Munchie deliberated that meant he wouldn't really be happy if she didn't stay. It would make him sad. It would make him sad...
Shuffling, shrugging, Munchie mumbled, "Yeah, you have a big family you'll probably have to look over in the future..." And there it was. Self-confidence slipping on the ice rink of his chilly breath he'd lost and fumbled over and felt so cold now. He so badly had wanted to chip in with that are a lot more important than me, how badly he did... but he... didn't. He didn't. Weird. Apparently he did have some sort of prowess in him. Being with these other entities was... changing him some. Of course it was. He'd never been in contact with others prior. It was inevitable. Still, the shock of her not staying there with him ached dully, sent cold tears reigning over his eyes and threatening to let loose. Cold breaths of pain from inside of him lurched out, and eventually the throbbing pang ebbed a little. He was fine. Not really, but sort of. And sort of was a better word than not really. A better double-word... double-word-phrase, whatever it was. It was better. Just... try to hang onto it, Munchie, he reminded himself, just try to hang onto it.
It kind of sort of worked, the whole hanging on business. It felt like it did, but it was cold and he didn't like the idea of losing Ashley all that much. Didn't... didn't like it... at all. How strange. Stupid of him. Munchie shook himself, but that trick didn't help him much anymore. "Fucking damn, Munchie! It's not that I don't want to be away from you! It's the complete damn opposite! Shit!" Oh so he was easy to read too. Without his consent, a sob broke loose and splattered onto both his arm and his chest as Ashley careened into him and Influence, being Influence, didn't seem to notice or react whatsoever. Munchie was starting to wonder if he was either blind and deaf or mental or didn't seem to notice these things or... something that wasn't his fault. Munchie was... oh, he didn't know, but he did know one thing, and it was that he didn't want to see this girl disappear like that... He didn't want to just say goodbye one day and leave for a time like they just did with Jalendalynne. Yeah, she was a friend; yeah, she meant a lot to him; yeah, she was cool...
but she wasn't Ashley...
They stayed like that, recognizing this new wound, a mental one, rippling inside of them, this sadness, this sorrow, this condemned notice of loss about to come, and Munchie couldn't even start to conceive how this might work, but he understood whatever was coming would hurt. It would hurt a lot. A hurt that... that neither of them wanted, actually. Ashley didn't want to feel that ache, either. As the fiery soul spluttered in his hands, quietly mumbling to him repeatedly that she didn't want to go, she didn't want him to go, she didn't like this but she had to, it was for the best—he couldn't see how it was for the best, but perhaps it was somehow. He wanted this girl... to stop being unhappy, but he felt it too, that unhappiness, that notice of... loss. Of loss. She quieted as she sort of... cuddled into him, was it? Yeah—it... it was. Plowing breath by breath, yeah, it was, it was. Nice, it was. Yeah... it was. Accepting this, seeing this, calming as a melancholic trill pulsated within him, Munchie patted at Ashley's head like he'd been wanting to do, and it was nice, like he'd thought it would be. He patted at the warm spirit's shaking, bobbling, tear-stricken face and slightly—more so accidentally—wiped away the spots of cool, wet stains of pain.
They—they still had a job to do. They still had a Dusknoir to stop... and a world to save, and all of that stuff. Munchie didn't quite understand what ailed the chimchar so horridly, and it sickened him to see her wallowing with her distress, but there... wasn't much more he could do. He'd stand by her side forever and ever, he was sure, even if arguments would fetter between them at points: it'd be fine... What mattered were those collections of colorful moments he'd shared with that girl as was. And here he was, now, with her anyways. She seemed to calm from what cold pain lay inside of her, so Munchie helped her to her feet as her hands stretched to the ground as they always did, and she nodded to him, more to strengthen herself, he saw. Ashley did stop shaking. Influence had meandered off somewhere, but it didn't take long to recognize the long, billowing leaf attached to him.
Seemingly upset about something, perhaps what'd gone on, what was still sucking things up inside of her, Ashley coarsely yelled some scattered words at him, and he grumbled back, and quiet acceptance, soft acquiesce, seeped through. They would ask around to the villagers of Treasure Town, they would use their word to find Dusknoir, they would thus stop him, they would be done with this mess. All they could do, all they could do. Munchie didn't even bother shaking himself, instead staring through his dark eyes, struggling with his own catharsis, too. They must have been similar. Oh well, he tried to reason, time to go find Dusknoir and beat him, let's go. Some spirits lifted, but most sagged, and the ones that had came up went back down and crushed. Munchie focused on his breathing again as he wandered on, after Ashley, after Influence, as the fog grew grayer and smokier about him, seeming to suck him into its midst and force reason out the window. The Foggy Forest descended in every which way until all Munchie could pick out were the creatures directly in front of him, and every once in awhile, a tree: after he rammed into it. The methodical hits and turns in his step helped keep his poor, old, tired, twisted soul up and running, even after what Ashley had hinted at, whatever it may be.
At first, kind of because he was stupid, mostly because he was too tired and too much of an emotional dishrag to care, Munchie didn't quite catch on as the fog grew a little more denser, darker, heavier. He felt like he was choking on a pack of clouds, only to screw his mouth up tight and let his pair of crooked teeth that always showed to show for it, as they always did. Munchie could only go on, blinking out the empty grayness of it all and move. He'd been moving, he had to keep moving. Considering the following: how he'd come from the bumbling fool everyone wanted to stop taking up precious space to a hero, the only one from the present, on the cusp of saving or ending the world, saving the future, really, from the present and fixing to save such future. It was... a lot to take in, actually. He blinked slowly as he saw just how far his journey had come, but how much closer he just might have been... to finishing it. Whether or not Ashley planned to be there—his journey could be close to closing soon. His... role in this strange world, strange life... he just walked aimlessly, struggling to trudge after the chimchar and the grovyle while his feet gave through and his head pounded. It was hard when all he was thinking about had to do with fate, with losing those in front of him... and this sludge he had to continue going on through.
Why was the fog so hard to break past, anyways? Were fogs always this cold and limpid or whatever? Munchie felt a little secure in that single thought, in the least. Fog wasn't this hard to cut through. It was nigh solid, like muddy water the color of stone had replaced the fog. Funny, too, because it didn't swirl or anything, just stuck around like a gel and swamped and stayed and... Something suddenly felt very wrong in Munchie's heart, so he glanced back and nearly fainted when he couldn't find his shadow. Just—j-just like last time, it wasn't there. Just like back at the good old Waterfall Cave, his beloved Mystery Dungeon—oh what a long way he's come—it was... ominous and dark and then suddenly oh hey look it was his shadow. Until his vision was overtaken by a large, strawberry red eye. Then things got a little scary.
The stomach went from wriggling to seam open and rip and suck at the air, swipe at him, until fiery fingers plunged and pulled him back and screeched primal, dirty cries out at the guy who snickered softly and cooed—yeah, he did, he cooed—at the girl, at his... his daughter. And smirked and the vortex picked up, only it wasn't blustering everywhere, but honing in on one particular spot: him. Oh... oh no, Mister Scary Dusknoir had found... he'd... He was gonna take Munchie up and he was whispering ugly words with his ugly, strange voice that Munchie couldn't quite understand. His heart flipped in circles, his stomach did a belly flop, his scruffy, angular ears bent back, and the wind howled at him, cried at him, sobbed at him, screeched straight through him. Influence grumbled a few things and was keen to help the munchlax, but trod back continuously like if he came too much closer he'd get lost. Munchie saw the ghostly-pale hand stuck to his foot and understood why he hadn't gone in yet.
Listening tenderly, he found enough eavesdropper information: Dusknoir had... a-apparently... found a weak spot in his daughter, something he could use... to get her to stop trying to save the world and give him the location of the last time gear. He wouldn't say anything else, didn't spill information on Jordan or anything else, just that horrid question and gentle—sickening—whisper repeated, repeated, tell me, Ashley, where is the time gear—where is it, Daughter—where is it, dear? It ate at him. Just drop, let him go, he pleaded silently, Ashley, don't be like a guild member and get all attached to him, just let him fall to the future again. He couldn't believe he wanted to go back there, but if it saved the screwed future, and if it saved her and made her happy, then sure why not. Was... was this the moment that Ashley was terrified of?
She continued screeching in hotheaded anger. No, she didn't sound or look all that prepared. And Influence continued his tender stepping, trying to grapple Munchie without killing himself or honestly anyone else. How strangely kind of him. They... wanted to hang onto him. They wanted him to hang around. This was... the last thing they'd expected or cared for, and oh, it ate at him. It... ate at them, too. The wound had reopened, he saw, and Ashley was sobbing again, her hands first frenzied at the ghastly father, then clutching at her ears—or where they should have been, for the missing one, as she screamed bloody hate and awful words he still hated to use, much less think of.
You can't have him, bitch, you can't have him.
Ohhhh, but, Daauughterrr? I already do. Oh I do. Ooh-ooh~ Tell me, Daughter, do you want him back or does he fall? Does he fall, dear girl? I'll drop him if you don't tell me, you know I will.
STOP IT, DAMMIT! PLEASE! YOU BITCH! LET GO OF HIM!
And but noooooo~
GET AWAY FROM MUNCHIE! Other words fell through as those landed, but Munchie couldn't catch them as their meanings slipped from his grasp and spiraled into incoherent clumps never to be uttered again. He sighed at that. A whorl of air nearly choked him.
Tell me, and I will. I'll start counting down. You know how I do it.
Let go... of him... P-please... You've—you call me your daughter, but you sure as hell don't act like a fucking dad. If you were a damn father, you'd stop this shit. You'd understand. Something, dammit. Something.
Yeah but the future is so much better with the fairness it brings, and its perfect tones and values and love—
LET ME SAY. I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK LOVE IS AND THAT WAS NOT IT, YOU ASSHOLE.
Geez, Daughter. Fine. I'll count from... mm... the colors of the future. From our home. And after I'm done, I'll let the boy here in my paw hand fall to a loss in this future you so desire to save him from. Okay? Okay, great, sweetie! Hm... which colors are there? Oh, yes, that's right! There's one! Say it with me: gr—
IT'S IN THE FUCKING WATERFALL CAVE NOW LET GO OF HIM... right now... Right now, Mister...
And surprisingly, he did. Munchie slammed into a ground that had lost its texture rather painfully, and he shook himself and stood ever the slowly. Words swam in his head and connected with a silly, farfetched, airy, ugly accent. "Why thank you. I believe I'll go collect that now so that I can set the present into motion on the right path. So that fiiiiinnally, this forsaken foggy forest can lose its fog or whatever and drop the act. It's only so stiff from my presence. What I reaaally need is that last time gear. So thaaaaaank you, Daughter." The hand didn't leave his back until a crackle sounded in his ears and he felt that the cold, dark, blustery presence of Dusknoir had gone. Wouldn't come back until later, after he'd obtained the final time gear and would begin his final countdown, the true ending of... of life as everyone knew it. No... sun. No sunsets. No ability to die or lose oneself from the darkness. N-no... no color. No texture. No voice, heck, no shadows. No... love. No true emotions, so honed and needed. All because Ashley couldn't bear... to see him be locked into the future, where everything was just like that. She truly—she truly didn't want him there, and she apparently felt... really strongly about him, about not letting that ever happen. W-wow.
To prove that wasn't happening again, and she felt a need to keep her word, Ashley's long fingers wove through Munchie's fur and dug into his arm, her head against him and her stance giving off the impression that she wasn't letting go easily. Funny, how he'd never seen her act that way to Influence—and yet... he didn't know what to say. He just... didn't know what to say. How to describe what was going on with him. Well, he figured it out, as he stumbled along with the chimchar clinging tightly to him that he could hardly stand and he shivered, shuddered, like he was tossing away layers of self-consciousness as he shivered and Ashley warmed him with just herself against him, with him. Influence must have been somewhere behind. The scrawny munchlax could hardly believe how much more he thought of the guy now. Like he wasn't... too bad, or something ridiculous like that. Unable to question it at the moment, Munchie deliberated that focusing on the warmth penetrating into his soul from Ashley's entity resting against him and assisting him in actual movement, that was the way to go. Keep his attention span locked onto her, because she... she did mean a lot to him, and he preferred that very much. He... did. Munchie did. He didn't know what was going on with him anymore and felt like he'd been walking in a strange haze since he woke up from Jalendalynne's home, but he knew that.
The grovyle meandering ahead didn't catch onto however the munchlax felt, however the chimchar felt. Perhaps, Munchie sought... perhaps he... couldn't? He didn't see how much more Ashley could, but apparently it was something, a something he'd gladly swipe thank you very much. And he clung onto her, and she clung onto him, and odd as it was, that warmed his heart. Just... being able to hang onto the dear, fire-colored girl like that, know she was practically in his arms, know he had her... right there... he had no idea what kinds of words were supposed to be used right then, but it was nice, if nothing else. It was nice.
His mind idly spiraling in and out of orbit, trying to recollect the fact that Ashley was clinging onto him like letting go of Munchie had become a sin, he barely had the ability to notice what the heck Influence over there was doing. He wasn't just loitering around or spinning in circles. But he was up to something, surely. Influence was stupid—to Munchie and Munchie alone—but he wasn't that stupid. Well... unless he was. Munchie toyed with that notion for a motion although, like an upset child, eventually scurried to a corner of his mind and dropped the thought as if dropping a doll he'd stolen from the little sister he'd always wanted but never got and seriously would never steal from in the first place. It was a metaphor. Metaphors did what they wanted to do. If he ever did have that adorable, chubby, little sister... that'd make him kind of sort of really happy. No: he liked Ashley a whole lot, but he didn't see her like that. Like sibling. Like... he wasn't sure what, and questioning it seemed like it'd be long and harrowing of a journey and he didn't even know if she'd last that long by the fear quavering in her that'd practically frozen her up. At least she chose such freezing to happen by... by his side, of all sides to freeze up to. He liked that—he liked that a lot. Munchie smiled like a dopey idiot for some time there, simply overjoyed by the sudden reasoning that Ashley must like him a lot, which of course had taken him some idiot reasoning before he understood it, which was sad on his part. Munchie may be growing in some sadder places, but all in all he was still himself.
Then the scrawl of Influence's scrabbling voice changed that. "Come on—I hear whispering. It sounds like... children. I have no idea what the hell we should do, no idea what the fuck we're getting into, but children sounds like a good start." Munchie felt like idly pointing out that unlike him, Influence did know what to do, as did Ashley, but he didn't because the guy semi freaked him out. "Come on, come on. We need all the help we can get. Ashley's frozen up, you're just as useless as you usually are, though that could be a slight fault on my part—" He lost his voice to a hankering cough that wracked far out of his last words. The rasp hesitantly seeped into tone again, deeper than last time. "Still. Children. They're a something." And that was that, when it came to Influence. Apparently all he needed to do was hear the voices of squeaky, high-pitched children and he'd be okay or something. Munchie didn't know, man. He didn't understand Influence. No, no, no. But if children he wanted, it seemed: children he'd get. That sounded so creepy. Why did it sound so creepy.
Completely putting his faith into a creepy, green creature whose body was built by plant material—that made him sound a little worse—and... and his eyes were such a strange, gleaming yellow—he could go on for days—well, Munchie followed him like some children do when they see a kidnapper, which made him feel blind, but he wasn't truly alone. After Ashley seemed nigh frozen in her ways, Munchie'd scooped her up and now she rested in his arms and it seemed to help her. He hoped. Oh, maybe. The desperation pumping from his soul gave way to startling fear as the events that'd just gone on blared cold through his head like an ugly song, and it was repeating, slinking through him, shocking and choking up his movements until he only felt stronger about how unsettling it was, following not Ashley and Influence and somewhat himself but completely thrusting his trust unto that latter one—not him but the strange, leafy grovyle—with the eyes. Still, the one that had almost become the last thing he'd ever see in color, that terrifying strawberry orb, seeped through his vision like blood and surely struck a chord somewhere in him, one that wasn't meant to be pressed.
As he sauntered on, Munchie began realizing how easily he put his faith into others that were never himself since he couldn't trust himself with anything and grew at ease scrabbling past Influence and occasionally stubbing his toe on a tree root or another. But the fog was lifting, color had already vividly painted enough scenes Munchie felt assured they hadn't gone through the first step of a lost present yet—only the present could save the future; he sucked in a breath and lived it—and... squeaky voices flourished, drew him in. He heard them. He heard the children. And after hearing what they had to say, he wasn't sure he was so keen on hearing them that much longer. He missed the safety he'd felt at Jalendalynne's home—now he realized that was the cushioning quietness of it all—and couldn't help but wonder what her family was like and why it didn't matter that they'd know about him but never see him and his buddies, but how he felt now... that was nice too. Not the children though. His attention turned back to them: not the children.
"Ruuuuuuuuu-benity! Come on, ol' chap, ho! Our cult is gathering, and you need to start listing names or we'll never get this done!" That was the first thing he heard that made coherent sense. It was a deep, smacking tone of an older child. Munchie was past his childhood stages, as was Influence, as was Ashley, and this kid seemed... nigh there. Puberty must have struck him in the middle of some night or another because that tone's deepness rivaled—it—it rivaled... Through a sudden sniffle, he noted that it rivaled Byrender, and now he missed his friends a whole lot more. "Rubenity!"
"Coming, siiiire~" That was the next-in-command. Like Chindu and Spirit, but they probably weren't gay. Probably. He wouldn't assure anything. But this kid had to be younger. They both held the distinct tones of males. "Soooo, everyone—name orderrrrrr~!"
And the kids started screeching out their names, seemingly in some important fashion they held dearly to their ways, almost like strange, tribal pokemon. He shuddered some.
"Majestic!" Leader guy. Huh, that name sounded familiar.
"Rubenity!" Other kid, right.
"Sarshonue!" That had to be a girl. Had to be. He'd bet his berries that one was a girl.
"Denden!" Another girl.
"Linderescent!" Why were these names so weird? He only knew it was a guy by the semi-low squeakiness.
Other names must have followed, but there were less and they were duller. Those first few kids seemed like the leaders, of sort, of this occult. He felt like he'd heard that somewhere and it was incredibly—unbearably—unanimously—ultimately—important. But he still couldn't figure out why. Majestic felt familiar... he reigned over an occult... didn't strike out yet. Maybe if he kept eavesdropping in on the kids—hey, he could do a pretty mean eavesdrop—he'd figure out why. Influence kept his golden gaze glittering upon him, letting him know that yes, that was what he was supposed to do here, he remembered Munchie's awkward talent—yep, he was referring to it as a talent—and he expected him to use it. Munchie quickly whispered over to him, "They call themselves an occult. The kid leader's name is Majestic." Ashley mumbled words that sounded like she was remembering something important too but couldn't put her finger on it. Flaming orbs peeped out and held strong to Munchie's. He felt like the soft, light blue so faintly lingering, rimming those dark orbs was really popping out now.
Kid leader Majestic's deep, almost silly tone rang out some more. "Our plan of order today is the matter of why pokemon don't recognize us, let alone me!" He was important. Oh, oh oh, was he important. The words lurched out at him. "We need to find a way to make everyone notice us, okay! We have to! We're important! Our occult has to take over all of home and show everyone that we're tough and we can stop anything we don't like!"
"Like the vegetable carts!" called some kid.
"YEAH!" Everyone really seemed to like the idea of getting rid of vegetable carts. Munchie felt insulted. Vegetables were nature's greens, man, and they didn't hurt anyone. In fact, they made others healthy, for crying out loud, healthy. Made them better. These mental kids needed some broccoli to clean out their heads. He sighed to himself. Influence asked; Munchie answered hollowly that the kids didn't like broccoli. Influence didn't know what—in his context, remember, because Munchie didn't like these words but he used them for Influence—the fuck a broccoli was. He said it sounded like some disease. If Munchie had an inkling of Ashley's spirit, he would have spat at him.
The Majestic kid went on. "We've all heard those rumors from my little sister about this monster and his rogue fiends attacking our beloved Mystery Dungeons, and that's not cool, man! They're awesome, and he's gonna make everything colorblind or something as terrible as that, and we need to do something about it! Come on, my friends! Let's go back to the kingdom and use all our begging skills and reasoning on my dad again and try to get him to understand that we have to go out there and save everyone!" Oh gosh this was Mystic's brother. He saw it. He saw it. He'd said stuff about the throne, he was ridiculously ready to go out and fight evil Dusknoir and whatever else he might have had up his sleeve—other rogues and monsters? Eek. Yuck. No. They were bumbling fools that seemed to do this regularly. Thank gosh the king seemed reasonable enough. He knew what he was doing. Admittedly, Munchie must have been worse of when he was—he couldn't believe he was saying this—Mystic's brother's age—Mystic's brother oh dear gosh. Still. He stared at that kid through the foliage and wondered, catching the sleek, blue skin of an amphibian, the chubby orange cheeks, his long, dark fins cascading over his eyes like a bad boy, and his twin tails of similar coloring smacking the ground with childish confidence. Majestic, Mystic's brother that was into occults. And by the sound of it, this had to be the most cheerful one he'd ever sponsored. Oh... oh geez.
Still, occults. Why occults. Why? Why, man, out of anything: why occults? He was the prince and he did occults. What kind of a world did they live in.
Oh, it sunk in. The prince of Fyshyngtyn. He hadn't seen his friends of the guild in ages, but did they save Jordan: wouldn't they be safest hiding out here, maybe even being able to somehow help out? That would explain how well-rehearsed this crazy kid was on Dusknoir and bad things. Of course, being a civilization living in Mystery Dungeons, as all but Treasure Town did, that huge, overpopulated place he used to live in, they understood the direness of the situation and already did love their Mystery Dungeons and heck no did they want to lose them. It seemed they already saw that to lose this would be to lose... everything. They technically would go colorblind: but in reality, everything would lose its texture. Color. Whatever. And apparently, according to his futuristic buddies, that was... only the beginning. He'd seen some pretty strange sights in the future that one time, but he'd stuck to a strangely light path that helped them out and actually seemed nice. How something like that could seem nice he didn't know, but it did, and it was.
He shook himself, and out came... he couldn't believe it, but a plan, his own, actual, true plan.: "We go with them to the kingdom. We have to find the guild members, and as Ashley recovers, we'll figure out what we have to do... and we'll go." Faintly, he recalled her telling him that giving Dusknoir all of the time gears would have made saving the world all the harder, but he... he was kind of really strong and scary, and, as he thought about it, their plan to go and surprise attack someone they couldn't even find wasn't the best thing ever, technically. And Dusknoir: all he had to do was swoop over, dangle Munchie just above his ripped-open stomach, and wait for his daughter to scream of mercy. Meanie. He was a big meanie. Munchie didn't like to scrutinize and call others names since he'd grown up assuming everyone called him those and him alone, but gosh, that guy was mean. Whatever the future was like, Munchie felt somewhat... nice... to know Ashley so desperately wanted to protect him from it that she'd sacrifice the easy way out to do it. Things were... going to get harder, for the small trio. But she'd rather have... have him, with her, than easily do the one thing she'd been needing to solve since the start.
He must have meant a lot to her. Kind of like how much she... she... uh... meant to him. Munchie stared down at those unwavering, flaming orbs as they seemed to watch over him, even though she was the weaker one, and she was the one that was too drained to even stand on her own. The munchlax she so adored raised one of his hands to trace over the ear she had left and cup her face, try to... he didn't know, protect it or something. Whatever: either way, it just... felt right. She protected him all the time; he could only hope she felt the same about him. Influence, letting the offer Munchie had sit for a moment, slowly cleared his green-skinned throat and pointed one of his squishy fingers out at where the kids where sitting, doing their occult crud that Munchie didn't really feel so comfortable around. But it seemed they had no other choice, so with a ceremonious flourish, the skinny, scruffy, navy-blue to sandy-pale munchlax stepped out of the grasses and into a clearing set just before an harbor that led out further, stretching to a shining sea of archipelago and waves and so much bright, orange sunshine. The huddle of pokemon dazedly squawking at one another hushed as their gazes turned to their newcomers.
Majestic, occultist marshtomp prince guy, turned his head and squealed. "That's... those are the guys my sister were talking about..!" Having a deep tone made it hard for him to sound excited, but those pubescent eyes lit right up at the sight of Munchie, Ashley in his arms and Influence scowling as usual from the back. "We right now need to get these suckers to my dad. If he sees these guys, maybe we can go out and stop Dusknoir with them." Munchie shuddered with that; nobody noticed. Around Majestic sat the other children. He couldn't pinpoint names to faces because they all could have honestly been anyone, but the ones closest to him looked like his friends that he'd heard of best: there was a green-faced bug with split wings, a yamna; and a slick-white face with a strong, muscular, wet body, the sealeo; and a tiny little thing with a pink body and slime rattling upon it, a shellos; and other colors, other feathers, other scales and creatures, though most looked particularly comfortable in this sort of beach climate. Quietly, Munchie recalled that down further south of the Beach Cave and Treasure Town, taking a steep right, on the map there was a kingdom, a civilization, labeled Fyshyngtyn. And here he was, in that same spot on that map. Would Chindu be proud of him? Munchie shrugged to himself and shook out his face.
"Rubenity, we'd better get these guys to my dad. They look important. That one murderess lady said she'd sock us if we find them and don't tell her. And she looked mighty serious, man. I don't wanna get skewered."
"Mm? Oh. Sure~" And it was revealed that the slick little sealeo was Rubenity. "Yeaaahhh, we'd better~ Your sister and everyone else in that weird bunch looked kinda worried too. I think the floaty green thing was crying some." Munchie didn't realize just how few pokemon knew what Drynt was, but it seemed he'd been... c-crying... again. Munchie's heart swooned and he nearly choked on it. "C'mon, guys. Sheldon, I know how much you want us to get rid of the vegetable carts, and how much we want to, and we will, I assure you, but right now the big thing is getting these important folks over to the castle before anything else. Mmmmkay~?" He had no idea a pubescent little sealeo could get everyone to listen that well. It was like a miracle or something. Occults were magical things, just like the sun, the moon, and Mystery Dungeons. Perhaps not as magical, but how they all listened and worked in sync, this little bundle of characters, it was enough to make a grown, evil Dusknoir cry. Unless that dusknoir was Ashley's dad. He had issues.
Calmly, in such a fashion Munchie could hardly believe, he and his—okay, he'd say it—friends—yes, plural: friends—followed along after the troop of children and their occultism and all of that occult stuff through the streamers of orange sunlight that splayed out forever, past boardwalks, over sandy areas and through blankets hanging from lines through the air, by planks of homes with fabric roofs and sometimes walls, with gentle waves sparkling with dazzling orange and blue hues so perfectly aligned: dang, were Mystery Dungeons... impressive. Amazing. Okay, spectacular. He never thought he'd see something so spectacular. Spectacular as Fyshyngtyn. With their jolly fellows and boats and boardwalks and archipelago of lively islands and the warmth and the sunniness and the beach and the sea shells and the beauty, oh, the endless, rolling beauty just roiling throughout the days in gentle breezes and huggable sunshine and simply lovely homes. So simple, so stellar, so nice. Shards of warmth plucked at Munchie's soul. When his head turned to the sides, little iridescent lilies with perfect pink petals sat on green pads and danced in the air, in the sea, on the sands. Dang, Munchie liked this place. Oh yes he did.
The fabrics of pinks and blues and yellows and all bright, happy colors soared up high and melded with the sandstone steps building up to the sandstone blocks crafted into a great sand castle reigning over all. The towers decorated in those fabrics and streamers, sea shells and lilies studding the authoritative presence calmly taking in glory, so glorifying, so wonderful, everything fit together. Everything simply fit together. He'd seen it before in all of the Mystery Dungeons: but this truly proved it. They needed this part of their lives to stay. The population of Treasure Town—which boomed much higher, crowded ranks than Fyshyngtyn, which was mostly rural and at sleepy peace—never saw this joy and they never wanted it. What a shame... Because Munchie found himself radiating with joy that he was there, in the moment. Ashley even stirred and as they scaled the lovely, smooth-but-rough steps to the palace doors, that was the moment she leaped from his arms and began moving on her own, first taking a few hard stumbles but eventually growing used to momentum again.
With the children, Munchie and friends must have looked like a colorful mob, comparing to how little the pokemon did such clumps of others. Must have been why Majestic and his little buddies met up just outside of the kingdom. Without much regard for anything, the marshtomp occultist in questioning stepped up pridefully to the doors of such palace and took the fabric loop and violently yanked at it, where it surprisingly pulled open doors in ease. Munchie grew starstruck by all of this beautiful fantasy bountifully cascading upon him, what with the orange shine and the seashells and the lilies and then those fabrics, plus the engravings upon the walls, and it took him many extra moments to gain his bearings and scramble past the windows outlining the entrance hall, up some stairs, down some more, through a long hallway, and landing on red carpeting that led up to shell-sculpted thrones, each happening to have their respective leaders sitting on them. Well, no. They both shared a throne. One was the size of Mystic—a tiny, cute, feminine-appearing mudkip who sat and rested beside her fellow king, who happened to be this great, glorious sea mammal with his blue-finned head held high, his pairs of fins in poised position. The shell on his back gleamed and caught Munchie's attention, and he realized the king guy was a regal—very regal—lapras.
Oh dang.
He and the queen sat together and looked pretty chill—and honestly kind of adorable, he couldn't help it—sharing the king's throne, and it looked like they always sat together when there. "Son, what's up?" murmured the king. He had a sun-patched voice that was soft but also held an air of nobility which nobody threatened past. It took his breath away. "I see you and your friends are back. Do you want to discriminate mammals, eliminate the vegetable carts, or fight Dusknoir this time around—ah." His wise, blue orbs socked Munchie hard. "Who may this be that you've brought in? Should I be... recognizing him this swell?"
"Yeah, Dad! That girl, you know, the scary one that's Mystic's like best friend, she mentioned this guy and his buddy a lot, didn't she?" But really, what freaked the munchlax out was how much the king lapras guy seemed interested in not Influence, not Ashley—but him. His eyes never left Munchie. Not once. He didn't know what to say all over again. "So like what should we do with him?"
The king then nodded slowly to himself, seeming to take his time. "Your mother and I were awaiting a message from the prophet prior, as you can plainly tell, pray tell why we're sitting so attentive, which is when we usually expect your little... gang... to show. I'm happy to see you've chosen a smaller, more lively bunch of kids, but pray don't break them to scoundrels." He shifted in atmosphere. "Anyhow, it appears we have more fine business than messages, so we will call up your sister and her guests and let them reunite with these... friends of theirs. Pray tell they will find a way to stop this ending world, as we've heard of it, from happening." He... seemed to believe them, but also had a hesitant stance like he wasn't going into submission or letting full trust fall from him.
Like this was what usually happened and he was cool with it, Majestic excitedly nodded, tossed a few cheery words behind his back, and abruptly ran back out of the hall he'd just come from, his gang of buddies following behind. He probably did that a lot. His dad knew pretty well what the heck went on in that kid's mind all the time.
"Aye. Munchie." And then he was on the hot seat again and it was really uncomfortable. "As we wait, I should have the dignity to introduce myself." He adjusted just the slightest and suddenly the room's tension felt flushed out and done. "They call me King Antonium." Eying his dear wife, deciding she looked pretty tired and asleep, he went on. "And this is Queen Suddiu. I was heir to the throne, as my father and mother were both pokemon of my same origin, but it seems the tide turned after I fell in love. And now both of my children are part of her species. Though of course I could never mind. She's been particularly tired after looking over sets of preparations for our guests, your friends..." Then his gaze moved from Munchie to the mudkip curled up beside him, sound asleep. The orbs has gone gentle under sight of her. "She's a sweet little thing," he murmured contentedly to himself. Munchie could tell there were lots of emotions bouncing around right then and there and his face exploded in color.
Maybe King Antonium kept staring at him because he didn't know what was up with creepy Influence, but could tell he was from... somewhere not so great—the future—and... perhaps there was still the futuristic dust on Ashley. Or something. Or maybe because Munchie was the emotional one and his own gaze kept lonesomely looking for the chimchar somewhere to his side that was always... always by his side, no matter what. He trusted her.
A guard was signaled—water type pokemon, as most were, this one some poor flightless bird called empoleon—and their friends were drawn in. Sure enough, the floating elgyem with his emerald sheen, Drynt, he collapsed from tears on the ground and hugged Munchie and hugged Ashley and oh gosh he had such a strange, weak grip and nobody wanted to move him until Byrender's warm, caramel colored self came stomping on in and his deep, affectionate tone, so jazzy and so great, came booming through and he was scooping everyone up and hugging them and Influence looked ready to pop a brain vessel because of that guy and Jordan shoved him past, her long, turquoise hair swooning with the wind and her eyes covered still but stains of tears sank down through—oh phew she was okay stupid Dusknoir—and she hugged and apologized a lot but everyone was all like dude it's okay then on sauntering fell the swanky Mystic, so sparkly and shouting and squealing as she struggled in and everyone was hugging and Spirit the great white wigglytuff heard all the commotion and was like what's going on because he was stupid and didn't realize that everyone had arrived—he'd been... busy with Chindu—and then Chindu came too and everyone was pretty sure they kissed in public at one point because of all the joy and everything and it was great and everyone was happy and Chindu didn't even start spluttering.
Ashley, fully recovered, struggled to let it out. She told them about Dusknoir and that he nigh took Munchie away from her and she wasn't gonna ever fucking have that and directly said that plus Munchie was hers, stupids until he was feeling lightheaded and woozy, then she let it out that there was a harder path she and Munchie would have to take and drag Influence into. She stopped, though, and let their friends go, and they heard of how they asked around Treasure Town and found Dusknoir and he might have been about to do something bad, they didn't know because Spirit screeched something gay at the top of his lungs and distracted that fat idiot enough to save Jordan—everyone knew they'd save Jordan over the world—and they ran and they found a safe place to hide via Mystic, who was still very proud of herself.
Then there was nothing left to do but set a plan. Ashley explained a couple things, let them know about the future and all that—she quickly brushed over those things plus Influence but everyone was pretty cool with it because the guild was full of pokemon that were awesome like that. Once it was established that the future was hell and she'd come to fix it, they had to fix it together, everyone got down to business. Jordan, having nearly gone through a few things she wasn't about to have happen to her, knew that Treasure Town and a couple of other places were starting to be filled with strange pokemon that apparently were like ghost types or something—who knew there was a ghost type? Or this... they called it like a dark type? That too? Who knew? Crazy. But once it was secure those creatures had begun taking over and seemed ready to devour all, you know, evil stuff, let things drown in shadows... be taken over by stuff Ashley didn't wanna talk about, the guild decided that yeah, they should probably go check that out, and yeah, a smaller group would be better for the task Ashley had at hand.
So they would see their friends go out and chase away some darkness.
On the other hand, Munchie was going to be on Ashley's team, and she and Influence—as they were from the future and knew these things—and he, himself, would have to go to the spoke, the direct middle of Zundentun, and... she said shit was gonna go down. He didn't ask her what that meant, and she didn't look like she wanted to talk about it all that much. By the looks of their situation, Dusknoir had already gotten every time gear and must have—she said it thinly—gotten ready to... eat them. But he'd wait until everyone was screwed in some fashion before he destroyed the time gears once and for all.
If that was what it was like to have a dad, Munchie felt pretty happy he had characters other than a dad to love.
With the main details secured, a plan to adjourn their case and then take off secured, with everything hanging on the line because there was nothing else they could do, his dear chimchar raised her flaming orbs, nodded once to the king in front of them, and said, "Well... let's not let ourselves get fucked of your home."
"Good plan." Spirit nodded.
"Let's do this..." Chindu sucked in a breath and the wigglytuff smirked, his green eyes flashing, as he bent over and kissed the black-feathered bird right on the head. That evoked quite a reaction.
But as it settled, fear took in. As did the need to wet himself. As did a lot of scary things Munchie wasn't sure about. But this was all they had, and Ashley—she was keen on stopping her dad from letting this happen.
It inspired him. It inspired everyone.
She just shrugged.
"Let's get this shit over with."
Me: Aaaahhh... that chapter was aaaallmost 14k. But it's not.
Ashley: -snorts-
Me: Well, I got everything. You guys have to set out and stop Daddy Dusknoir the weirdo. Our friends the guild will try to keep some darkness at bay. Who knows, even Fyshyngtyn might be up to something. YAY GOOD GUYS.
Ashley: BUT THERE'S SO MANY BITCHES OUT TO KILL US AND IT MAKES ME SAD.
Munchie: ;_;
Me: Well... The story is nearing a close. :3 Sorry I forgot to warn you I was taking off on a two-week summer camp thing! xwx But hey, here's chapter eight. ;3 Let's hope nobody dies.
Ashley: -coughs- And welcome to a world where the present can change the future.
Me: I already said that.
Ashley: you did?
Me: yeah. Chapter one.
Ashley: aw fuck