Chapter 14
Story
Squirtle and Quil did not move a muscle. On the lowest floor of Blindhollow's Prison, they stood stock-still on the cold rock in front of an occupied cell. Within lay a Charizard, and its blue eyes were fixed on them.
"This is not my home, it's the cage where I'm locked away. You needn't worry about intruding." His voice was powerful and deep, befitting a Charizard. Though his tone was subdued to match the environment, his voice was strong enough to match any shout that Squirtle could have produced.
"A Magnezone's Barrier seals off the cell. If I succumbed to the shadow in my heart, I would be powerless to fulfill its craving," he went on.
He parted his lengthy jaws enough to spew a small jet of flame toward the pair. Squirtle side-stepped as Quil stumbled back a couple of steps with a cry, but the bright flame halted at the border of the cell and the corridor. The air at the border had a silvery sheen that Squirtle had not noticed before with his attention fixated on the Charizard's tail flame. The translucent barrier blocked the Charizard's flame jet, and the surroundings plunged into relative darkness once more.
The Charizard shifted in his cell until he stood upright on the other side of the barrier. If his mass and height were not impressive enough, then Squirtle figured the thick tail, blue wings, muscled legs, and sharp claws tipping every digit were enough to intimidate most Pokémon. Especially in an eerie place like the depths of the Prison. The Charizard curled his tail to position the flame in front of his belly so that he was not wreathed in shadow. Squirtle wondered if it was a scare tactic meant to highlight his bulk and fearsome head, or a considerate gesture to grant him and Quil light to see by.
Neither of the pair said a word. The Charizard continued. "Relax, I implore you. The protection from me that you experience is insurmountable. Granite walls to scorn my hottest fire and most cutting swipe. A cold, cramped, and quiet place to suppress my spirit and dampen my rage. A frequently renewed Barrier coupled with surveillance to prevent my escape. Do you understand? Even when I can't help but hurt those close to me, my cage prevents it."
Squirtle swallowed to wet his throat. Despite the Pokémon's circumstances, he felt obligated to speak for the sake of manners. "An effective prison, then."
"Yes. Because I designed it for myself, employing every disadvantage I could conceive. I am perfectly trapped here, through rage and melancholy. This is my fate."
Squirtle blinked. The Charizard had sounded psychotic initially, but now he wasn't even making sense. No one imprisoned oneself.
The Charizard trained his eyes on Squirtle. "I sometimes yearn for the sun, but your skepticism shines as brilliantly right in front of my nose. But would you believe this isn't me? That the Pokémon locked away in here isn't what you see?"
"I believe you," ventured Quil. "I think. You'd have no reason to lie or confuse us when you're sealed up like this."
Quil, it doesn't matter if he thinks he's being truthful, thought Squirtle. Crazy Pokémon can't tell the truth, because they don't know what the truth is. He dared not speak his thoughts aloud.
"Correct, Cyndaquil. Your companion is yet unconvinced. I beseech you, rest yourselves and listen to my words. Months have passed since a Pokémon has passed by my cell. The sole exception is the Magnezone charged by me with my imprisonment. While he knows all too well the wisdom of keeping me locked in here, you two do not. Listen to me. Understand my pain, and my misery."
Squirtle looked at Quil to gauge how he felt. Interested, excited perhaps. Squirtle stifled his sigh as he joined Quil in slumping down in front of the cell. With the rain outside, they couldn't very well leave anyways.
The Charizard towered over them until, with a forlorn smile, he himself lay down and curled up like an Eevee. He'd seemed bulky and inflexible while standing so tall, but laying down Squirtle could see his body was quite sinuous. Like a campfire, the Charizard's flame lit up Squirtle's and Quil's faces, as well as the half of the Charizard's face that faced them where his head rested on the stone. The Charizard began his tale.
Years ago, a Charizard named Chando lived in a prosperous seaside town. How many years, I cannot tell you, for measuring time from this cell is impossible. The town lay far to the northeast from here. It was called Port Rein. Your blank expressions tell me you have not heard of it. Be grateful for that.
Chando was a member of an industrious and successful family. His sister, a Charmeleon, was a smith and metalworker in training. She aimed for her tools and parts to benefit Port Rein and its 'mon on a large scale. Chando's father was a Feraligatr, and an aquafarmer of great skill. The plants he tended beneath the waves served many uses, not the least of which was a food source. His mother, a Charizard, was a weather scout. She'd earned her aptitude at reading and predicting the weather patterns through study, practice, and daily flights to key meteorological locations.
Like Chando's family, all in Port Rein worked at their trade as if their lives depended on it. The reality was no different than their imaginations. Port Rein was located in a rough, mountainous land. Isolated, cold, hard, and wind-scarred, Port Rein was a place that most Pokémon could not endure. Though Chando needed to perform well to thrive in such a place, his ambition urged him to surpass necessity and achieve a heroic standing. To stand among legend.
As a Charmander, Chando decided he wanted to be a carrier. Enamored of the large Pokémon who made it their trade to transport 'mon from place to place, Chando sought to join their ranks if he managed to evolve wings. This was because he witnessed a perilous battle in the sky among the fluted peaks of the mountains. A Dragonite was being harried by two wild Braviary, a thousand feet in the sky. The Dragonite was burdened by a Bagon and Snorunt as its passengers, leaving it unable to retaliate against its harassers. Chando feared for all both the Dragonite and its passengers, for how could they escape without fighting back? The Dragonite would surely fail its duty to protect its two passengers.
In a remarkable display of skill and courage, the Dragonite rolled its body through the air as it hurled a twisting Dragon technique at one of the Braviary. The Bagon and Snorunt were tossed from the Dragonite's back, helplessly plummeting earthward. Before the second Braviary could land another strike, it was met with a crackling punch of lightning from the tenacious Dragonite. In a flash, the Dragonite was diving nose-first after the falling Bagon and Snorunt like a swooping Staraptor.
Seconds from impact, the Dragonite expertly caught its passengers on its back once more, before soaring away on its route. Chando saw the two Braviary strike the ground a moment later. A single attack each from the Dragonite had weakened both to the point of being unable to fly. When Chando realized that fact, and knew that he could use such skill as a Charizard to assist ground-bound Pokémon, he finally knew what he wanted to do.
Chando trained. He battled. He traveled. Years passed before the day of his final evolution arrived. Now a winged Charizard, he received instruction by veteran carriers. Still, he did not let up on his daily battling practices, his stringent diet, his constant self-improvement mindset. All were a component of his desire to become unstoppable, indomitable. The carrier who never failed. One day, he would regret his perfectionism, but at the time he foolishly believed that more power would bring him happiness.
Chando's mother was cautiously proud as he surpassed her in fighting ability, then again when he became her better in long-distance flight. He'd relentlessly improved his endurance and speed. It wasn't long before Chando playfully challenged his father to a battle. Despite Type disadvantage, Chando was victorious. He smiled a humble smile, but roared inside at the milestone.
As a carrier, too, Chando focused always on improvement. No time existed in his self-imposed schedule for friendships, for finding a mate. Always, he was on the move to find more clients and complete their transport. Maybe the joy that developing his power brought him overshadowed all the other joys in his life. Maybe he lived only for improvement and power because he had never known anything else. Maybe he focused so intently on his personal progress because of the impact that inspiring day had on him. Even now, I am not sure what drove him. That was simply how Chando was.
A couple of years into Chando's thriving career as a carrier, history repeated itself. Chando was on a simple delivery of a Dwebble named Stebbin to Port Rein. As he flew over the mountains near his home, a pair of Braviary took off from a peak in pursuit. Oh, how it burns my insides to relate to you that moment! My chest is heavy, my throat tightens! I must continue, and suffer this torture once again, for no one but myself brought about Chando's downfall.
Though Chando knew he could out-fly them, the memories of the Dragonite's heroics surged into his vision and blinded him to all other courses of action. Chando saw only the most outrageous and perilous path. He saw that moment as his chance to fulfill his childhood dream, his chance to measure how far he'd come, and his chance to prove to himself that his life's work up until then had been a success. That is what he thought. The fool!
Chando grinned savagely as his mouth filled with fire. Ordinarily, if he was forced to engage wild 'mon en route, he would have stayed at range and disengaged from the fight as soon as possible. Not so here. This was his moment. Chando charged into the first Braviary as he allowed the fire to spill out and envelop him. Cyndaquil, you might know this technique as Flare Blitz. Chando's passenger, Stebbin, was ejected from his back after the wash of flame and hard recoil from the impact. Chando recognized it as a necessary consequence, and determined he would have plenty of time to catch the Dwebble before he struck the ground. Situations like this were what Chando had trained for, so he thought he could not fail.
The Braviary attacked him with their beaks, talons, and wings. They manipulated the very air into offensive strikes. They used powerful techniques that Chando had rarely encountered from one foe, and never two. Still, he easily withstood the assault, and returned their passion twofold. The fight was decided after Chando used his fiery breath on the Braviary, his most honed and destructive move. The Braviary flapped away in retreat, with one beneath the other for support.
Like a hatchling drawing out its first decisively victorious battle, Chando had tarried too long in the fight. On any other delivery, a demonstration of his fighting abilities to repel the attackers would have been satisfactory for him. Today, though, he was overzealous. He needed to live up to his expectations. Once Chando glanced earthward and saw just how far Stebbin had fallen, fear and doubt clawed his heart. He pointed his nose at the Dwebble, and executed a mighty wingstroke before tucking his wings against his body.
Chando knew that the Dwebble's body shape would have prevented him from achieving a high maximum falling speed. The Charizard's own streamlined position, which he'd practiced a hundred times, permitted him to continue accelerating downward even after fifteen seconds. As if that speed could stop anything awful from occurring. As if any speed could stop the inevitable! The jagged slopes of the snowy mountains appeared to Chando to be quickly approaching, but Stebbin's body approached even faster. But it was not enough, it was never enough!
Yes, Chando reached Stebbin before his time was up. Chando did not, however, have time to fully unfurl his wings and slow down beneath the Dwebble. His belly collided with the mountainside, knocking the wind from his lungs and the light from his eyes. As he descended into darkness, Chando saw Stebbin tossed once again from his back toward the snowy canyon below.
When he awoke, Chando was too weak to move for many hours. He fancied the incident as a dream, for his failure to execute the aerial rescue was incomprehensible to him. Eventually he searched for the Dwebble with rising panic, but could find no trace of his sometime passenger. The area to search was too large, and Chando had lost consciousness before he could properly estimate Stebbin's trajectory. In his distress Chando was not himself. A tumult of frightening emotions bred in his belly. Guilt, rage, disappointment, anguish, hatred. They would be his companion for the rest of his life, though he knew only the current moment.
Chando had been a self-created prodigy. Having trained so intensely for so long, he no longer made mistakes. The touch of total failure was unknown to his hardened mind. Accordingly, that day was the first in a new phase of his life. To him, he had failed the Dragonite that inspired him those years ago. He had failed his duty as a carrier, and he had failed his passenger Stebbin. He had failed himself and all the goals and expectations he had thought he'd met. He failed his family and the other hard-working denizens of the Port Rein area who had believed in him and marked him for great success. He had failed as a Charizard, a master of the sky and aerial maneuvering. He had failed. Failed, failed, failed. The words rang in his head. On certain days, they still do.
With that violent brew of emotions stewing, Chando returned to Port Rein, battered on the outside and mangled within. He could not, did not know how to handle what he felt inside. So Chando manifested the emotions in the only way he knew. He attacked. I wish vehemently that this story was exaggeration, or better yet, a great lie. No. Chando attacked Port Rein with the full brunt of his emotion.
His fiery breath vented his rage. The slashes of his claws were his pain. His loss could be felt in the force of his wing-beats. Every roar expressed his shame. When the Pokémon of the town stood against him, he fought them with a passion none had ever seen from Chando. His years of tireless training and growth were obvious to every 'mon in Port Rein that day. None could stop his rampage.
Listen now to the most frightening piece of the story. Chando enjoyed it. The relief and vigor he felt as he destroyed his home somehow granted meaning to the emotions that Chando could not name at the time. When he slammed his bulk into his parents' house, the sensation and the effort were a respite from the suffering that burned in his belly. And when he tore through his sister's metalworking shop, the torment from his failure did not bite so deeply, if only for a moment.
The following morning, a new Charizard awoke in the ruins of Port Rein. Me. Nothing remained in Port Rein but smoldering ashes and worthless debris. The battle hunger and fierce emotions of the previous day had fled. I certainly regretted the pointless destruction Chando had wrought, and the failure of his delivery stung too. Yet no powerful emotion could touch me, in the new day. I could think clearly.
I curled my body around some of the remains of my childhood home as I thought deeply about what to do with myself. When the sun set, I flew south and west. Due to Chando's many tasks and travels as a carrier, I was quite familiar with most Pokémon settlements and the lands that surrounded them. One in particular, Blindhollow, was famed for its Seed Nursery tended by a Wartortle. I hoped that the quiet town beneath the vast plain would help calm my roiling mind. I could think of nowhere more peaceful.
Once arrived, I prioritized making sure that what happened at Port Rein would never happen again. For that, I knew I had to be kept in check. I, myself, was the problem. I could feel those emotions, that state of destructive potential, lurking inside of me. It was only a combination of willpower, distraction, and spent emotion that kept me from losing control anew.
When I related the gist of my tale to a Magnezone who lived in Blindhollow, the meaning and severity of my words were not quite captured. The force and passion, however, were entirely understood by the Magnezone. I begged the Magnezone to help restrict me, somehow, before another terrible incident could happen. Together, we worked out the best ways to negate my abilities.
I frantically paid most of the residents of Blindhollow to help me, as I feared there was insufficient time to explain why I needed their help. Chando had amassed quite a hoard from working as a carrier far and wide. I tasked them with digging until they encountered the rock layer that lies deep underground. I dug alongside them. Next, they carved out the rough architecture for a small prison. It has been expanded and refined since then. Lastly, I crawled into the cell and requested the Magnezone to seal it with his Barrier technique.
For the first while, everyone in Blindhollow thought me mad. They were soon proven perfectly correct. The next day, I suffered my first fit. Visions of that day at Port Rein assailed my senses. The same emotions returned in full force. During that time, I was Chando once more. The hero in his own mind who had lost everything.
Chando knew only the need to wreck, destroy, and hurt. Chando unleashed himself upon his cell seeking to escape and be free. Thankfully, his calmer self had foreseen how he might behave, and therefore designed the perfect countermeasures. I have already relayed to you two why exactly I am unable to escape from this cell.
The fit lasted two days. Finally, drained of energy and emotion, Chando awoke to his calmer self once more. I mourned the loss of my sanity, and questioned whether I was ever sane to begin with. Another question to which I still do not have the answer. I requested that the Magnezone continue to renew his Barrier if I suffered additional fits.
A week later, I underwent a similar fit for three days. An interval of a week and a half followed. Then, another fit. Like a cycle of sickness, the fits come and go. They bring flashbacks of both sensation and emotion. I am helpless to repel, control, or even delay them. The fits are as fierce as Chando was that terrible day. Unstoppable, indomitable. Every week or two, I suffer a fit that lasts one to three days. Nothing I have ever done has changed that, and I have tried every conceivable method in the endless duration of my imprisonment here.
Once it was clear that my ailment occurred in a persistent cycle, Magnezone ordered a custom-fit restraining device made of metal to be transported to Blindhollow. That is the contraption you see in the corner of my cell, there. I can place it on myself when I am due for another fit, and only the Magnezone can remove it with his magnetic abilities. That helps mitigate the damage I do to my cell, which is considerable. You can see the innumerable gouges from my claws on every surface, just as every surface is blackened from the heat of my hottest fires. The integrity and indestructibility of this cell are crucial to the well-being of every Pokémon within miles. No precaution is too strict.
I will not forget that day at Port Rein. The worst, and the best, of Chando's terrible life. All of the negative emotions, especially his sense of failure, mark it as the worst. But the relief, the ability to respond to all of those emotions by taking action in spectacular fashion, mark it as the best. Wreaking such destruction on his home, while innately terrible, was immensely comforting and pleasing in comparison to bearing the emotions but taking no action. Without a doubt, it was a day that I will never, ever forget.
I cannot retract these claws, and they remind me every day of the damage I've caused. I cannot change my face, even though I can smell and see the fear in every Pokémon who has visited me and knows what Chando did. I cannot ever stop being this dangerous, feral force. My fate is to suffer knowing what I am. I can feel that knowledge tearing me apart, but I have the strength to continue living. The same vitality, skill, and urge to improve myself that Chando had lives in me and keeps me alive. I have no choice. I cannot change my situation.
I'm obviously a prisoner. But I'm also imprisoned by my past, imprisoned by my inability to die, and imprisoned by my helplessness in changing the fitful cycle I suffer. And when the shadow in my heart escapes again, I'll be imprisoned in Chando's senseless mind once more. I cannot change a thing. That is why I must suffer endlessly, alone in this darkness.
That brings me to why I begged you to stay and hear my story. Do you understand now, Cyndaquil, Squirtle? Do you comprehend the essential wisdom in my tale?
Nothing like this can ever happen again. Do you hear me? Never. If I were not confined here, I would be traveling these lands to ensure that no one could ever suffer as my victims or myself have. However, I must be confined here, because my imprisonment is far more important than any other preventative measure. So listen to me now so that the disaster of my life cannot repeat.
Never strive for power just to become more powerful. Chando never wanted to get better at his job as a carrier, even if that's what he told himself. Inspired by the Dragonite, all he ever sought was power for power's sake. He lost sight of what should have been the meaning of his life: using his strength and abilities for service. For being proud of his accomplishments. For making the world safer, more connected. A better world. Instead, Chando sought to improve because of a childhood fantasy that was twisted into a selfish longing. He set himself on a dark, self-consuming road that has no end.
It gladdens me that my two visitors are unevolved. If you see the wisdom in my story, you will be cautious with the goals you set for yourselves. There is plenty of time for you two. Time is all but meaningless for me, now. My past and my future are fixed. Your futures are fluid though. Please, create your tomorrows with the foresight tempered by my story. Do not allow anyone to make the same mistakes Chando made.
The Charizard was finished speaking. One large blue eye watched Squirtle and Quil from behind his tail flame with something like relief. Squirtle's gloomy surroundings came back to him with the quiet.
Squirtle considered the tale with suspicion. Although it explained who the Charizard was and why he was sealed away alone in this dark prison, some pieces of the story were hard to accept. Could one Pokémon actually become powerful enough to destroy an entire town and defeat all of its inhabitants?
More importantly, was the psychological condition that the Charizard suffered possible? The 'fits' sounded like post-traumatic stress flashbacks. Squirtle doubted he was a psychiatrist, but flashbacks following a distressing incident seemed conceivable. Although, could they occur in a regular cycle, and take over his mind as he described? Well, when Squirtle acknowledged his own situation as an amnesiac transformed Pokémon with issues distinguishing self, he figured the Charizard's story could not be called outlandish.
Further, the Barrier was certainly present. That was no lie. Nor was the custom-fit metal restraining device mentioned in the story. Squirtle saw a series of connected metallic hoops in the cell gleam dully in the fire-light. He guessed they were meant to immobilize the Charizard's arms, legs, tail, neck, and wings, as the hoops were of various sizes. The story had a chance of being true, certainly.
"Thank you for the story," said Quil politely. "The fire reminded me of being at home and hearing stories from my mother and father. I have a question though: Why did you refer to yourself as Chando in the story when it was you all along? You're the same 'mon, aren't you?"
"No," said the Charizard firmly. "That is not me anymore. Chando is the monster that destroyed his home. Chando is the ferocious beast that inflicts only pain and destruction. Chando is the shadow in my heart. He isn't me."
Quil hastily nodded at the Charizard's emphatic words.
"So, Chan- er, Charizard," began Squirtle, "Speaking from experience, what would you do with Pokémon who abuse their immense power like uh, Chando did, but won't seal themselves away? Pokémon who didn't earn and don't deserve their power, but who use it to subjugate others and live however they want?"
Quil's eyes didn't widen, but Squirtle sensed a sudden comprehension there.
The Charizard's gaze became flinty. "You are saying there are others like Chando? Others who might destroy what they should be protecting?!"
Squirtle took a couple of steps back despite the silvery Barrier between him and the Charizard. His protection no longer seemed ensured. Could anger trigger one of the Charizard's fits? He and Quil might have to get out of there, quickly. The Charizard wasn't wearing his metal restraining device.
"No, no, not exactly," he explained. "The situations aren't identical. I don't suppose you've heard of the recent phenomenon regarding Electric-types?"
The Charizard's nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. "I apologize. My anger will not avail us in any way. No, Squirtle, I know little of the happenings beyond this cell and this corridor."
Squirtle summarized his knowledge of the Electric issue. He talked primarily about what he'd witnessed in Karprest with Stolt the Luxio, and what he suspected in the case of Raizula the Raichu. Quil chipped in every now and then with some detail or opinion. With the Charizard unable to interact with the world, what harm would it do for him to hear some news? Besides, Squirtle felt a tad guilty when the Charizard revealed that he did not hear about the goings-on of the surface world. He did not even know of the state of Blindhollow, a hundred feet above!
The Charizard spoke after a period of thoughtful quiet. "Pokémon like the ones you describe have no concern for those lower than them. Having sacrificed nothing, and with no wisdom earned, these Pokémon will only grow more arrogant and contemptuous. Some rare few may not succumb, but I know well the self-assured satisfaction that power grants. You are too late. They will not listen to what you say, because anything that threatens the power they wield will be ignored or eliminated."
Squirtle's heart fell. There must be some advice this Charizard had to deal with the Electric boost. "Before the fight with the Braviary, is there nothing that could have stopped Chando?"
"These situations are not fairly comparable. However, I advise you try to undermine their power in some fashion. As Chando was burdened by his passenger's safety, you must make your battles unequal. Secure every advantage you can."
Fair advice, thought Squirtle. Though there's no way I'll be taking on an Electric-type any time soon, even in an unfair fight. Besides, it's not my problem. Not really.
Quil did not look like he had anything to add or any questions to ask, so Squirtle thought it was time to get going.
"I'll remember your story, Charizard. Quil and I should be moving along though. Do you think the rain has stopped?" he asked Quil. The Charizard answered.
"The rainfall has not relented, and likely won't for quite some time, based on when it began."
"How did you-" began Quil, but the Charizard kept talking.
"You have no desire to leave the Prison while it persists, am I correct Cyndaquil? I recommend resting in one of the cells among these corridors. I am the sole resident of this floor, and the Magnezone will not return to renew the Barrier for many hours, as he recently renewed it. You will not be disturbed down here."
Squirtle pondered their position. Stay here all night? Unwise. We're safer out in the grasses by the path. Chando is unlikely to be wrong about his rain duration estimate though, since he's doubtless lived here for long enough to pick up on weather patterns. From in his cell, somehow. We'll be taking a risk by staying here for so long, but I'll do it for Quil.
"Are you fine with that, Squirtle?" asked Quil with clear hope in his tone. "I think we should trust Charizard's rain predictions over either of ours, since we're not from around here."
"Mm. It's far from optimal, but we can't help the rain. Let's find a cozy cell."
The pair said their goodbyes and continued down the corridor past the Charizard's cell. The huge Pokémon watched them go. "Never forget my words, though I hope we never meet again."
Squirtle passed many empty cells and turned into another corridor before even considering the passing cells. He wanted some distance and privacy from the Charizard. Quil did not object. Since Quil had said in the past that he preferred sleeping with his fire burning, Squirtle chose to settle down for the night in a cell opposite one of the more vigorous torches. They'd be easy to spot in any case, so they may as well have the additional comfort of torchlight. Quil approved of the small cell he'd selected.
Like everywhere on the bottom floor of the Prison, the cell was made entirely of cold stone. Squirtle half-expected to find old bones in the corner, but thankfully the cell was bare except for a bench and the decomposed remains of some grass bedding. Both of them avoided the grass and settled by the back corner on plain rock. Sleeping would not be comfortable. The alternative was rain or someplace wet, which was drastically worse than cold stone. For Quil at least. The unforgiving rock was made more tolerable in Squirtle's mind, since it would make Quil more comfortable.
Peace and quiet. The Charizard had said they would not be bothered, and strangely enough, Squirtle was inclined to believe him. They could fully relax before dealing with their stealthy escape in the morning.
Briefly, Squirtle thought about the Charizard's story again. The truth of the story and the storyteller's mental condition would not be easy to determine, as he and Quil could not ask around Blindhollow. They would soon leave and probably never return, anyway, so thinking further about the Charizard served no purpose except to arouse pity. The advice he gave them, though, Squirtle took to heart. Against an arrogant and self-assured Electric-type, he needed to secure every advantage he could. Level the playing field.
The worries and questions he'd pushed off earlier in the day were finally able to crawl their way back to the fore of his mind with the dimness and quiet. What were they doing here, really? This particular excursion had nothing to do with Quil's journey, and nothing to do with ascertaining who he was. Therefore, learning about Blindhollow should be pointless, though it didn't feel that way. Whether because of the intense experiences of Karprest or due to some misplaced sense of sympathy and solidarity with the Pokémon living in Blindhollow, Squirtle felt that exploring Blindhollow and talking to the Wartortle were worthwhile. Would he and Quil do anything with the information, though? Should they?
A long time passed in thought before Quil murmured a question.
"What're you thinking about?" His words were measured.
"Nothing terribly important. It's a strange situation we've ended up in. I'm wondering whether it was worth it to come to Blindhollow, and whether we're going to try to do something about this mess."
"Oh. Yeah." Evidently Quil was distracted.
"Do you have something on your mind?" As Squirtle finished his question, he could hear Quil's flames become a notch louder.
"Me? Um. To tell you the truth, there's something I've been trying to figure out for a while now. You've probably noticed. It's about...well, it's about you."