Trigger Warning!
A/N: Half-way through the chapter the tone shifts and doesn't end. I tried my best to avoid writing anything graphic and make it short.
Alas, I'm putting this up just in case. Marking it with this border: - - - - - - - - to indicate where the warning begins.
Better safe and over exaggerating than sorry and afflicting triggers!
Remember when I said who in their right mind would ever wake up early?
Well, I did exactly that and immediately regretted it.
"Look at me now! I'm up before the sun rises, ready to face the day!" - Past me.
I don't know how I could say that with a straight face. Thinking about it makes me shudder.
Let's recap how it all started…
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Wisps of zephyr drifted from the brewing clouds, but I paid them no mind.
It was on that fateful morning.
That terrible, terrible day where I crammed my bill into a berry triple my size like a mad lad and got myself stuck in the process.
3.7" greater than 0'03"
A metallic tip goaded, and it took every ounce of my being to count from one to three… and not to throw the holy device to infinity and beyond.
"Iti, FLEE!" Arc,I know I'm tiny, the birds know, EVERYBODY KNOWS! Stop rubbing it in!
Ahem.
Lo, when wildflowers bloomed amid the frigid winter.
Planting, sprouting, growing, flowering, and ready for picking. They painted the chalky, moist land with splashes of cobalt blue. Fully developed plants bearing peculiarities that blast your palette with a variety of flavors.
Unlike the citrusy, peeled orange saplings or the strong, piquant fruits on Earth, these were a combination of everything fructose-y. A fruity zest turned up to eleven. Rich in vitamins inside their thick rind, they replenish lost strength and cleanse your soul.
Yes, the same day I overslept and choked on the realization of what exactly I've been consuming since my arrival.
Because no, the berries I'm talking about are, in fact, none of those things. They're an acquired taste with almost no sweetness, so they're very plain and very distinct.
There's no way I'll keep eating regurgitated bluish mush from Lord who knows where!
I don't care if they are easy to find! I can't look at Oran Berries in the same manner ever again–
The sounds of suction interrupted my narration, and I stared at the reddish caterpillar-like perpetrator adhering to the tree. My tree. The buttface's small poking pads were peeling away the bark, sipping the oozing sap without a care in the world.
The phone did not cease pulling the tufts on my head as I flailed my limbs around.
It might seem unwise to lean on an unknown mobile with no idea how it functions. However, he was created by Arceus. He's got to be useful.
I squinted. "Ci…?" You are useful… right?"
Arc's response was giving my antennas a harsh tug.
One of these days, I will check if a Rotom is inhabiting the gadget or something.
Can anyone blame me for being distracted by other matters instead of figuring out what I put in my mouth?
If you find yourself significantly different, thrust into a game better experienced behind a screen, almost getting devoured, undergoing daily wing exercises... and nothing goes wrong? Then you can chide me all you want!
The last few weeks have been pretty hectic. I have been trying to locate alternative food sources like honey but, seeing how that's basically sugared vomit, I… uh...
Yeah.
It's too soon, buddy. Too soon.
Far off, whooshing noises zoomed nearer.
A faint sense of… unease permeated through my fuzz. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, so I shook off the tingly feeling.
Pollen seems like a good bet. I'm supposed to be a mishmash of a bee and a fly, aren't I? They drink pollen, so why can't I?
Seasonal winds foiled my plans, sadly. Whenever I attempted to gulp down the golden powdery substance, the flowers and their surroundings were ruined by cotton fluff.
Basically, the closer the wannabe dandelion seeds appeared, the less pollen I had. Transforming puffy cotton into a sprinkled, coarse monstrosity - with a side dish of twigs from the nest and whatnot because, apparently, those migratory cottonweed Pokemon disliked the cold.
And those who can't fly have to deal with it.
Sniff.
"Tuli! Uli!" Gah! Curse you, Arceus! Why do you taunt me so?
I can't do that on an empty stomach, though. So, I decided enough was enough. When my wardens went foraging, I had the bright idea of scoring the apple of my eye. The mother of all berries.
The Sitrus Berry.
A yellowish, pear-shaped berry speckled with orange. The atypical meal tasted smoother than its later counterparts, but in my excitement to scarf it down, I ended up pinned to the berry.
Which led to the situation spiraling out of hand.
Shrubs rustled as my tufts sprang up. Stilled.
Arc finally hauled me out of there, and the resulting force splattered berry juice everywhere and sent me flying.
He had no time to correct his blunder as leaves flurried and droplets rattled the Pokemon from before.
I won't be forgetting anytime soon how gooey white strings popped out of the worm's glands and landed directly on the screen. This left the phone spinning frantically to rid himself of the non-damaging attack, blocking his view. How the bug-type's enlarged pupils widened further when it high-tailed out of there as I fell, sparing everyone except Arc as the oak branches blustered in quick, rowdy swishes.
Drenched in berry liquid, I didn't understand why my heart pumped rapidly at the familiar shadows taking shape mid-flight. I was grateful for the help, always appearing when I needed it most.
Deja vu clawed at me.
No, really. Claws, especially those belonging to birds, were something I became overly accustomed to.
Only that, there was no soft, jumbled warbling accompanying those keen eyes.
And I realized why.
The distance between the looming figures contradicted the movements of siblings sticking together like glue. No caramel-like feathers dropping to the ground or that horrible singing accompanied by not-so-angry-ish pupils.
There was solely a threefold increase in gray plumages piercing the air, displaying a plume-like horn adorning the head with a sharp, discordant cry.
With eyes burning in red.
"STARAVIA!" - - - - - - - - - - -
Oxygen left my lungs as the evolved flying-type picketed my pain receptors, and I found it challenging to regain it, feeling as if a freight train had crushed me. Lacking more with every attempt to just breathe and scream and trying to move worsens the stabbing ache and, oh god. I-
It hurts; it hurts!
It's rattling and pounding in my brain. Joints, tendons, bones, muscle, all. Of. It. My vision is impaired by deep somatic pain coursing through every fiber of my being. Imprecise and blurry, it was difficult to tell who was who or what was happening, nor wHY high-pitched screeching and caws exchanged. Why, why, why?! They are biting into me! It's flaring and burning! Stop it! Make it s t o p!
Wings shone faintly with a wavering light and lunged. They hit their targets without fail, then slashed at each other's weak points, mobbing all at once at a confounding speed through the darkened airspace.
They just did. Not. STOP. I c- I can't-
"Sa?" "RAAA!"
"Star!" "Star!"
"Sar." "RAVIA!"
"Sta!" "Starly." "Ta!"
"ViAAAA!"
"Ta."
"Pachi…"
A deep, continuous sound thundered into existence for all to hear, clapping the skies and the earth. And the besieging shrieks that followed were replaced by a cacophony of harsh, jarring AGONY.
"RISUUUU!"
An immense, cracking squeal boomed, exploding and deafening the world with bright light. I didn't notice the predator's grip on me slip until I began to free-fall from the sky, barely feeling the leftover compacted static charges pinning needles in my body.
There came a voice that explained it all. A voice in my head, slow and warped.
It said: "You have been struck by thunder. Congrats!"
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