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Rok's heart was hammering against his ribcage so hard he was a bit surprised that it hadn't burst out of his chest. His voice had died in his throat, shrivelled up and rotted away as he met the phantom's merciless gaze.
The phantom floated towards him, flexing its claw-like fingers. "You should not have come here."
Rok was inclined to agree with it.
"I tell you one more time, and only one more time; leave this place, or I will teach you the true meaning of fear."
Rok was pretty sure he was already learning.
Every instinct he had was screaming at him to run, to put as much distance between himself and this…thing as possible.
He took a single step back…
And stopped.
He remembered the way Rage practically glowed with excitement at the thought of a place where Dark Types can be safe.
The air of relief and safety that surrounded Smoke's old shack.
The smiles Reaper tried and failed to hide as they all talked about forming their own community.
The hope that had been collecting around the group as they travelled all the way to this island, until it had become as thick and comforting as pile of freshly collected pidgey down.
The hope that was born from having a goal, having a plan.
A plan that started with this pokémon.
The phantom snarled and hovered closer, so there was barely a vaporeon-length between it and Rok. "Do I have to tell you again?"
Rok gulped and tilted his chin up at the phantom, narrowing his eyes into what he hoped was a defiant glare (how did Reaper make this seem so effortless?). "No."
The phantom tilted its head.
"We've come a long way to find you," Rok told it, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. "and went through a lot of trouble to get here. I've already told you, we're not looking for a fight. We didn't mean to disturb you. We just want to talk to you. That's it! All we want is a conversation."
The phantom hissed and the plumes of smoke and mist that trailed from its form thickened and billowed about the air. "You lie. No one comes here, no one is permitted to set foot here. Not unless they wish for the world to be rid of me."
Rok's eyes widened, this time not in fear, but surprise. "Wait, pokémon come here to try and kill you?"
"Don't pretend to be shocked." The phantom growled, "I know that your goal is the same."
"No! I promise you, our goal is not to kill you!" Rok protested, his ears lying flat against your skull.
The phantom scoffed dismissively. "Then care to explain your incineroar's attempt to attack me?"
"He wasn't trying to attack you! I know this is probably a bit hard to believe, but Rage is harmless. He was tracking your scent and was just a bit too excited about it."
"Do you take me for a fool, Umbreon?" the phantom roared, and Rok couldn't fight a whimper. "Do you think I have not seen all of this before? That you are the first trespassers that have tried to sneak your way onto my home and deceive me of your true intentions?"
Rok's fear was almost like a living thing, pulsing under his skin and pulling him apart at the seams. His marks were burning, but Rok barely registered their heat. All he could do was stare up at this being, this being who, he knew implicitly, could utterly destroy him with little to no effort.
But its words held more than the promise of death. They were Reaper's bitter grumblings about the treatment of their Type, Rage's softer, sorrowful whispers as he talked about his past, they held the defeat that laced through Smoke's entire voice every time he was confronted with the prejudice that followed their every step.
They were the words of an abused Type.
With a deep, steadying breath, Rok forced himself to meet the being's eyes. To his own surprise, his voice was calm as he said, "You're a Dark Type."
The statement seemed to shock the phantom, whose dark gaze lightened for a brief moment.
"So am I." Rok continued hastily, wary of the other's mood changing again. "And so is Reaper, and Smoke, and Rage. We've all suffered for it, just like you. And chances are, those conditions aren't going to change anytime soon." Rok tried for a reassuring smile. "That's why we wanted to talk to you. We want to form a community of sorts, like a safe haven for all the abused Types, not just Dark but Ghost and Poison and any other pokémon who suffer due to factors outside their control. We were wondering if, maybe you would like to join?"
The phantom floated away a little bit, tilting its head as it regarded Rok, though now it's gaze was less hostile and more…curious? Confused? Perhaps a bit of both?
"Do you know who I am?" It asked, and Rok permitted himself a blink of surprise. That threatening darkness, that barely hidden knife edge that had been present in every word it spoke until now was gone, replaced with…well, nothing but a mild reverberation. It reminded Rok of when he and Silvo would go exploring caves and would delight in the echoes the walls threw back at them.
Rok shrugged his shoulders, his grin now feeling more at home on his face. "Can't say I do. Why don't you introduce yourself? My name is Rok, by the way."
"…My name is Darkrai."
"That's an interesting name." Rok said politely.
Darkrai's eyes widened for a brief moment as it-as he studied Rok. This being wasn't an it, wasn't a monster to be feared. They were just a normal Dark Type, dealing with danger the only way they knew how.
Rok glanced back the way he came. "I'd introduce you to the others, but they're probably still out looking for chesto berries to wake up Rage."
"Rage…" Darkrai mused, "I assume that's the incineroar that…wasn't trying to attack me?"
Rok smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, that'll be him. Could…could you wake him up? It's just, he's weakening fast and-"
"So long as he keeps his distance." Darkrai mumbled, staring warily into the trees.
Rok breathed a sigh of relief and jerked his head. "Come on then, he's back this way."
A/N: Holy Arceus I love Darkrai he's absolutely adorable. Granted, you didn't really get to see much of his adorable side in this chapter, but you will.
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