The howling and yelling horde continued to torrent through the streets of Haven, inching ever closer towards the Moonshadow, showering the wretched, retreating creature with a frenzied barrage of beams, blasts and bolts. Even with the paralysis they had made certain to inflict it with at the very beginning of their ensnarement, it had managed to evade them.
... until an attack finally struck: the gut-turning buzzing of Scizor's wings had been heard too late, and his ambush had allowed him to percuss the monster's torso with a Bullet Punch, sending the crying abomination plummeting into the cement, its full might cracking it on impact.
The living plague heaved its battered body up with its equally torn and bruised, trembling arms, being given but a moment to glare at the bloodthirsty mob's wall of eyes — craving for it to be gutted and butchered right then and there — before Scizor's pincers clamped down upon its shoulder, crushing its bones.
It was hauled up from the ground and what ensued — under the appeased gazes of Lurantis and Illumise, Dustox and Flapple, of Ferrothorn, Florges, of Trevenant, all of whom had given him so much hope but a day prior! — was an onslaught of brutal, continuous bashing and tearing, as each successive blow from Fury Cutter dug deeper and deeper into its flesh... adding ever more fuel to the Nightmare Weaver's already searing rage.
"Please calm down!" The figure of the insect suddenly burst into a cloud of blackness — not unlike his own illusions would — and Espurr appeared from the smog, charging into the thrashed and enraged Moonshadow and tightly wrapping herself around his head. "It's not real, you have to remember that, too!"
The tiny Pokemon suddenly landing on the inside of his battlements, eyeing him with a warm smile, gently caressing his hair, brought Darkrai back to lucidity, allowing for him to calm himself and precipitate the dissolution of the scenery of the town back into that of the eerie-yet-bearable Blightwoods.
Another failure...
In preparation for his first ever transparent visit to Haven, the two of them had begun thinking through different contingency plans and reactions for scenarios which could come to unfold once he arrived and was confronted with the townsfolk. Every. Single. Attempt. Three times now. He had lost his hold over the dimension, allowing for it to spiral into chaotic, unrelated, unhelpful, imagery.
The wraith sighed and attempted to compose himself, taking on a more dignified stance. He did not know why it was so difficult to keep it under control this night in particular.
"That did look like Haven... mostly," Espurr called his attention back to her, prompting the Moonshadow to at least lay a hand on her head. "But those weren't any Pokemon we know, right? Did you know any of them? Or did it just pick at random?"
Darkrai gave her a paralysed, trembling glance, prompting a tight — at least the dream communicated that it was meant to be so — hug in return...
"I did know them, yes," he rubbed the little creature behind her ear. "From another village, before Haven... far before Haven," so far before Haven that he could not even manage to recall its name.
Still, it was not that he had forgotten about it, quite the contrary: the name had been rendered but a mere detail, drowned out by all else that had transpired. His memories of it were piercing, with painful reminders often creeping into his nightmares.
"Ohh," Espurr put her pawn to her lip and — having sensed that the scene had once more been conjured into being by them both collectively dwelling upon it — dared to look back at it, seeing her friend allowing himself to be thrashed to a pulp. Thrashed by Scizor and by the blasts he would sporadically allow his comrades to hurl at the evil beast.
It was all too familiar, really...
"Did that really happen?" She eventually warped back up to him, coming to clutch the front of his carapace like a Pinsir. "How did you get away? Were you scared that you were going to die?"
He remained silent.
Quite a few hadn't made it through that fateful night. Very few had, really. He stood before her. He was still there... he had given himself the easy way out. He had fumbled the matter and had then gone with the simple, selfish option. He deeply regretted it... he knew not what he ought to have done instead, but he deeply regretted what he had settled on doing.
It hadn't gone horribly at first.
It was the first time he had truly been left to his own devices. He had come across a settlement nestled in the woods, charming and cosy, had tried to approach its inhabitants... death had ensued.
He sighed. Unlike with Haven — where it was slips of the tongue and confused silences he had to worry about, where his anxiety was his greatest foe — it was an inability to remain composed in the face of justified hostility, his vexation at Pokemon expressing their legitimate concerns around him and articulating reasonable questions, which had doomed his efforts there.
Their ambush had left him severely injured and their village far calmer, yet with no charm nor warmth. He was determined to make none of the same mistakes in Haven.
"Espurr?" Darkrai asked as he allowed himself to hover down to the ground, twisting the world of sleep, so as to provide him with a tree trunk he could lean against.
"Uh-huh?" Her placement in the Dream Realm shifted back to being right in his face, letting her return to fiddling with his plume. "What is it?"
"Do..." he prepared himself for the onslaught of embarrassment uttering this question would bring. "Do you truly appreciate my company?"
She gave him an odd look before grinning from ear to ear. "I do! Quite a bit! You're very neat."
"Why?"
"Well, uhm... because you saved me and we're friends now?"
"I am glad that I did," he gave her a pat on the head she received with a purr. "However... is there any aspect of my demeanor which... currently makes you value my presence? Or of my personality, I'd rather ought to say?"
Another odd stare. "Oh," her paw slid to her chin, her expression went blank and veered towards the ground. "That's quite the tough question to answer, Mr. Moonshadow," Espurr nervously rubbed her chin. "I'm sorry if this takes a bit of thinking, it's not that I don't know! It's... just... hard to say!"
"Worry not, I understand. It's just that I require some precise information on how I ought to act around the villagers."
"Ohhh! Alright, let me try and think harder then," she snortled. "Uhm, you're very pleasant to talk to, know a lot of things and are quite polite," she pretended to count down on her singular stub for a hand. "Also, you sometimes act in ways I find highly amusing!"
'Pleasantness' was far too vague.
Politeness was a given, yet perhaps too inconsequential.
His demeanor was maybe charming to her — for some as of yet inexplicable reason — but he knew well that her sentiment was not universal, that he was off-putting and creepy to most.
His age did give him incomparable experience and knowledge, but he knew not how he could use any of it in this situation.
This was all so difficult, interacting with others. It required so much preparation... perhaps even more so than a battle would.
Well, he thought, it was perhaps best to return to training for his coming fight, then.
"Thank you for your kind words, Espurr, but we do not have much time to lose," Darkrai told her. "Let us try another scenario, even though I'm not quite certain how useful any of this will truly end up being."
"Story time!" She exclaimed, before her form was entirely swallowed up by the dimension's twisting fabric. Her presence still existed, but only as a point of view.
Then came the turn for the dark forest to be ripped apart: its uniform earth swelled up until the mounds came to loom over the realm's lord, his power chiseling them into cubes, cannibalising the texture and appearance of the surrounding trees to give the signature, wooden houses of Haven. While said trees were being undone, their leaves were ripped from them and strewn into the singular form of Leavanny, now standing before the newly birthed image of her Shelter.
"Greetings, Miss Leavanny," the suddenly nervous Darkrai — being immediately subsumed by the context of the scenario he had fabricated — did his best to remain calm and courteous, bowing before the bug and ignoring her... off-puttingly blank expression.
What else was he meant to say, again?
...
Ah! Yes, of course.
"I simply wanted to make clear just how utterly thankful I am for the aid which you are providing me with! And accepting to receive me here at all, for that matter!"
...
She continued to stare blankly ahead... maybe at him, maybe to his side, it was either inconsistent, or he could not tell. Her gaze was hollow of all emotion, yet reeling with a nerve-wracking presence: her eyes carried the weight of a dozen Pokemon, all observing him, judging.
He couldn't help but slightly retreat. She... she had taken on the role of representing the entire village, was most likely what was happening. She was an egregore, yes, that was it.
Espurr's caretaker broke free from her paralysis, suddenly animated with a convulsion of the Dream Realm, but it was no less of a failure: the same disgust and fear she had displayed at the hospital rushed through her.
The motion of the insect's hand towards her mouth — preparing to defend herself with a Grass Whistle, to attempt to put him to sleep — signalled the complete degeneration of this fourth attempt and prompted the tearing apart of the simulacrum with frantic slashes at the figure of the bug and her home.
He took another round of deep breaths as the smoke cleared and a deformed version of the landscape of his Blightwoods returned, the Dream Realm attempting to stretch itself into the willed reality without its master's guidance.
The distraught Espurr — being unwoven from its fibers and made fully visible again — dashed to his side, caressing his shoulder.
He just couldn't get it right today. It... just... kept getting out of his control. Nothing within the dream had even prompted such a turn. He was just... too nervous to reasonably be capable of sustaining such a simulation.
"Darkrai..." Espurr muttered, her position now having shifted to being behind him.
"Yes?" He exhaled and turned around to find her curled up into a ball of fur. "...is something the matter, friend?"
The kitten slowly nodded, as if trying not to bring too much attention to herself. "Please, can you get rid of the eyes?" She mewled.
"The eyes?"
Initially perplexed, veering his vision upwards from her, towards the abyss looming overhead, lead to Darkrai coming face to face with a sight that froze his blood: eyes, dozens and dozens of eyes, static, watching.
Caught by a sudden sickness of the stomach, he felt himself want to shrivel up into a ball of fur much like hers, under the crushing weight of those forms. They were unnerving, even for him, there was something eldritch and unsettling about them, and yet he could not avert his gaze from those simplistic symbols. Odd. Very odd.
Were they memories of that harrowing monologue he had been forced to offer? Vague reminders of the spectacle he had set up for Ursaring and Gallade prior? Was he beginning to pull the latter two into a collective dream, perchance? Such a thing had happened before...
Be it as it may, once he eventually snapped out of his trance, he knew well that there was but one reasonable course of action to undertake in this situation.
"Worry not, Espurr," he reached to pick up the manifestation of his friend into his hands — shielding her sights from those... things — she could not be felt, but the idea of holding her was comforting, perhaps so for both of them. "It's just that I'm... getting weary already, is all," he presumed. "Still not within ideal shape to be able to keep a firm grip upon this scape."
The wraith set his friend back onto the ground, prompting the beginning of her vanishing, once she instinctively reached to shake his claw.
"We will see each other in the real world soon," Darkrai waved her farewell, with even him beginning to evaporate into gas and dust, joining the ground, roots, trees and sky.
Espurr waved back to him as her hand began to be unmade. "I'm looking forward to it quite strongly!" She giggled with newfound joy.
...
The eyes were the last to fade.
Morgrem churned the spoon through his bowl of berries again and again, his face twisting with ever more disgust and worry with every stroke. "I—I just can't eat," he sighed.
Espurr had quite the clear idea as to what was wearing him down so much. Everyone knew, really.
"I get that you're nervous, we all are," their caretaker got up and walked over to him, coursing her sickle through his hair. "But I think you're smart enough to know that not eating your Chestos doesn't make anyone safer nor calmer!"
"Morgrem..." Espurr approached him as well, placing her paw on his claw. "You don't have to worry so much. He's incredibly kind and wouldn't hurt anyone! You saw how polite he was yesterday, right? Did he seem mean at all, now?"
"Well, uhm," Morgrem did not want to respond to that question. "He did hurt Hoothoot... he didn't... you know... but he did hurt him. He is fine with hurting others."
Darkrai had explained this to her before, since she was fairly new to Haven, still: everyone there was very much afraid of fighting! To an unreasonable degree, he said, and it was all because of him making play-fighting unsafe. Anyone who hurt anyone was seen as bad from the very beginning, no matter the reason why or if he was protecting himself or someone else. It was just ridiculous!
"But that's quite different!" Espurr responded. "Hoothoot tried to hurt me. He was being helpful and nice, even when he didn't know me at all!"
"What if it's like Miss Gothitelle said and he tricked you using an illusion?" Morgrem began on another tangent. "Or what if he was the one who made Hoothoot attack? Or what if—"
"But none of that's what happened!" She looked him in the eye. "Please, give him a chance."
A new, awkward silence beset the dinning table, only to soon be broken once more by Morgrem. "You were... flailing in your sleep," he muttered. "It was nothing worrisome, but you still flung hay all over the place in your sleep."
"Uh-huh," Espurr mumbled, stuffing another berry into her already full cheeks. "I was having a nightmare and Darkrai was there and we talked."
"About what?" Mawile interjected, with Leavanny leaning back into the conversation as well.
"Oh, he was just preparing on how to greet everyone once he gets here!"
"But, the thrashing. Did he do... anything...?" Her caretaker stuttered through an attempt at a sentence.
"He better not have threatened or scared you!" Mawile frowned from across the table, snapping her toothed appendage.
"Oh! That's not quite the case, because he was the one who got frightened!" Espurr wiped her mouth of juices with a silk towel. "Quite a few times, actually. Poor Darkrai!"
"The Nightmare Weaver... got scared?" Morgrem asked. "Oh no, what could scare it?"
"I need to hear this!" Mawile gasped, with their caretaker being just as interested. "Tell us!"
She opened her mouth, prepared to speak, but went mute once she realised that she couldn't really explain why he was scared.
The first time he got very hurt, but he probably wouldn't appreciate her talking about that to anyone, when he didn't want to explain anything even to her.
The second time Miss Leavanny was what scared him, but she could find it quite rude, if she was told about that!
And the third was the eyes, which weren't that scary really, and she didn't want to try and explain it.
"Aren't we not supposed to talk about nightmares?" Espurr remembered. "I think even Darkrai's should count!"
Leavanny looked at her and nodded after a short while. "Alrighty then, here's the plan for today: Espurr, you and I will be spending the day with... well, you know who."
"Oh, it's going to be so much fun!" She was suddenly overtaken with excitement. "I can't wait!"
"Oh, of course, dear, yes..." she wiped her forehead. "Morgrem, Mawile, since neither Scyther nor Ursaring will be doing their jobs, you two will be given the day off and be staying at the meadow for the duration of the day. You'll be safer there. Is that clear enough?"
"Could maybe Mr. Scyther come with us to... uhm... well, uhm, protect us?" Morgrem twiddled his thumbs. "Just in case..."
Before responding, Leavanny tugged him towards her and gave him a peck on the forehead. "There's no need to worry, Morgrem dear, Darkrai will be with us here for the day, we won't allow him to leave our sights for even a second," she explained, with the goblin half-heartedly nodding along. "You won't be in any danger at all, but we'll need every Pokemon here we can get... just in case things go... sour."
Darkrai soared above the Blightwoods' canopy, feeling unnaturally cold, his hands trembling, his heart hammering against his chest. His wounds still paining him. This had been his routine for the past century... it was almost as if the previous night had changed nothing... this apparent normalcy was but an illusion though.
Unlike other mornings, he had no reason to check for anyone having disturbed the surroundings of his lair — it was too late for that to be a concern anymore — nor could he afford to engage in sight-seeing: Gallade had made clear that he needed to be there as soon as possible, if he took too long to get to the village, as convened, the townsfolk could begin to suspect that he had no intention of doing so at all and, so, that it had all been a ruse, with him having no true will to ever depart.
He would not allow for the creation of such panic!
...
The faster he went, the less time he had to be consumed by worry and apprehension... what would they think of him, once they met for a second time? What would they say? What would they do?
The Nightmare Weaver wrapped his arms around himself, as he flew ever closer to Haven. He had attempted to prepare, but... hopefully it would all go well...
Arriving on the forest's edge, the sight of smoke rising from Haven's chimneys in the distance, Darkrai halted and planted himself firmly by the woods' entrance, keeping steady by leaning against a tree.
Those cute little houses at the core of the flower-filled vale, constructed with stone and wood, painted with radiant colours, made the Nightmare Weaver's stomach turn with a debilitating sense of dread.
The same questions resonated: what would they think of him, once they met for a second time? What would they say? What would they do? Would it be safe for him to go there? Would it be safe for them? Did he have any other option?
...
He knew that Espurr and Leavanny would both be at the meadow around this time...
He would not begin by facing the village alone. He needed aid. He needed directives.
And so, Darkrai slithered past Haven and further down the slope, penetrating into the land of the tall grass and pretty flowers to arrive at the small bare on the rim of the prairie, where villagers had once gone to appreciate the Sun, where Espurr spent her typical mornings with her friends, far from those she could hurt... and where he was soon to be heavily distracted.
"Stop trampling everything!" He heard Morgrem bark as soon as he arrived, just in time to watch as the goblin ran over to a crippled flower and restored to it its lost vitality with an exudation of magenta energy. "What're ya getting so agitated over?"
"Look at all the clouds!" Darkrai's attention turned to Mawile, hopping up and down at the edge of the tall grass — indeed still disturbing the vegetation around her — and signalling at the distant, ambulatory puffs in the sky.
"Oh, those are Pokemon, actually!"
Upon a second inspection, Darkrai could confirm.
"For real?"
"Yeah, those are Cottonee, the bigger ones Whimsicott, the other two are Gossifleurs and Eldegoss," he pointed to a nearby example of each one of them. "Mr. Scyther said they leave for the time of the New Moon and then come back once it's over. The Eldegoss, the little green ones that're wearing dresses, have seeds all over them that make things grow faster. Very helpful stuff!"
Fascinating information. The Moonshadow knew that they tended to leave behind their cotton and, comfortable as those straw beds were in comparison to his... floor, they remained well inferior to said fabric. Perhaps he could bring that up as a topic of discussion, once he inevitably came face to face with Morgrem? Or perhaps he could be the one to pioneer a trade between those disparate Grass-types and Haven?
He had, in past epochs, been His Overlordship's emissary, after all. His savvyness in negotiation had quite clearly deteriorated since then — and, for the most part, it had been due to one specific episode which had left him scarred — but he would need to regain those anyhow, if he wished to be functional at all. There were many interesting opportunities to be found there!
"Too bad Espurr's going to miss 'em," Mawile responded. "Hopefully everything with that Darkrai goes well for her."
The wraith was embarrassed by the realisation that he hadn't noticed her absence nor that of her caretaker. Obviously they would be waiting for him at the village! What a fool he was!
He prepared to depart in a hurry, but...
"So... do you trust 'em?" Her tilt of the head made clear to Morgrem that he needed to elaborate, if but a tad. "You know who."
Darkrai's eyes widened. Him. Did she trust him? Surely not? But to what extent did she not trust him?
"I don't know..." oh? "Gallade kinda trusts him, right? So I'm not sure what to think now," oh. "Whatever the case, though, I just want him here. One, because we need to show him that we're not scaredy Littens he can bully around!"
Oh. Of course.
"But I am scared of the Nightmare Weaver!"
"—and two, because I want to keep an eye on him, like I said!" She continued. "With everyone in Haven keeping an eye on him, he couldn't hurt anyone anymore."
"Oh, yeah, I had repressed the memory of you saying that, actually," the gremlin awkwardly chuckled. "Look, awfully brave of you to say that to Darkrai's face, but please don't provoke him, it, whatever, like that again. And I reiterate the 'please'."
"Gallade told me not to over and over again after that, so I absolutely won't do it again, no," a relief for him as well, that was. Her remarks hurt, and he knew not how he would go about responding to them.
"Yeah. Alright. Good, let's just... stop talking about it for now and... enjoy the show," the goblin laid down onto his back and crossed his arms to marvel at the veritable monsoon of Grass-types conquering the skies of their meadow.
Darkrai soon joined Espurr's friends — her other friends he would allow himself to think, as he was her friend as well! — in watching in awe as the Gossifleurs and Eldegoss, Cottonee and Whimsicott danced and swirled in the air to the rhythm of the winds, singing their calming melody all throughout the lively, warm fields.
He had seldom travelled to the meadow. It was pleasant. The degree of self-isolation he had recommended to Espurr hadn't condemned her to a place equivalent to his Blightwoods, at the very least... even though he adored and respected his woods, of course!
... in spite of how unwelcoming they appeared.
A Whimsicott suddenly landed right by the spot in the tall grass where Darkrai was hiding, startling the Nightmare Weaver and making him compact his silhouette a tad, no matter how uncomfortable it felt. Soon, more and more Whimsicotts began to descend and nestle down into the pasture, being followed in doing so by the rest of the host. Their songs coming to a halt as well, leaving the expanse silent.
"Aww, they're stopping," Mawile whined.
"Yeah, they sleep when the wind simmers down," Morgrem explained as he got back up, cleaning the dirt off of his legs. "Guess they're too far from the woods to care about schedules like we do. Still doesn't seem safe."
He knew very little about anything which took place this far from the core of his forest, but that made sens—
With a Quick Attack he rushed out of the shadows, trawling with him a cascade of dark energy which inundated the plains and threw it into chaos. Its residents within his vicinity were scattered back into the air, while the column of his Dark Pulse cutting through the sky served to terrorise out of lull the rest.
The Moonshadow fought off the urge to marvel at the newly revitalised cyclone of floating Grass-types, and instead turned to stare down the petrified Morgrem and riled Mawile, the latter of who jumped before the former, snarling and with her monstrous appendage gaping wide open, readied to strike.
He knew well that their reactions would not be calm, but he simply could not have allowed a single one of those Grass-types to fall asleep!
His attempt to quell their worries about his intentions was cut short by a flurry of Cotton Spores raining from above as the horde made their retreat from the meadow, pinning him to the ground.
"Morgrem, get away! Run!" He heard Mawile cry, while he was stuck struggling against the sticky chains of cotton.
The goblin's short moment of hesitation — where he turned from the sight of the village to his friend and then back in utter confusion — was ended by Mawile summoning a gust of Fairy Wind which blew him away into the tall grass.
While Darkrai was on the verge of clearing the last of the puffs restraining him, the blast from Mawile's Fairy Wind was what finished the job, its fae energy beginning to sear his skin, once it was done with the cotton. He shook off the burning sensation as well as he could, preparing to — verbally! — confront her, before he saw that she was charging yet another Fairy Wind within the jaw.
"CEASE!" He roared, disrupting her attack and — finally — shattering her misplaced bravado with a gasp, prompting Mawile to attempt to flee, only for her to stumble over her appendage and sprain her ankle.
Darkrai froze. She began to cry.
"Even if most of you still believe him to be a bloodthirsty monster and nothing more," Gallade addressed the assembled crowd. "I ask of you only one thing for now: please, please, at the very least treat him as such. I get that none here appreciate him — I don't truly want him here either — but do not provoke him... please! Not physically. Not verbally. Do. Not. Poke. Him. At all. Have I made myself clear?"
A dissonance of frantic and shy nods ensued, with sparse verbal responses scattered in-between.
"Great, now that we've cleared up how everyone's meant to act around him," the Guardian turned to Honchkrow. "The bank vault will be opened," the bird gave a nod. "As far as I'm aware, nothing was stolen," another, proud nod from the avian. "So take care to pick up everything you deposited there last night. Anyone — Murkrows — attempting to peck items out of anyone else's hands will be severely sanctioned. Try to have a good morning."
Gallade's momentary sigh of relief as he waved the already dissolving crowd goodbye was premature, however, as he soon saw Gothitelle — her expression incapable of hiding the seething fury underneath — stride forward.
"Good morning, Gothi," he tried his best to smile.
"Darkrai told us that he could sense whether we were awake or not, and would arrive here accordingly," she began. "Here we are, awake for quite some time now, but where is Darkrai, then? Why did he not arrive here immediately?"
"It has barely been more than an hour since we woke up. I think that we both know what his stalling might be due to, but I'm certain that he'll show himself soon enough."
"Remind me again, why are you so certain that he can be trusted?"
"Well, I'm not certain he was telling the truth, no: his dark-typing stops emotion-reading, and a combination of basically having no facial features and the most monotonous voice I've ever heard made reading him any other way impossible."
"Right, so you have no way of knowing whether you were being lied to or not?"
"Not quite, the story did line up with what Espurr told us about him well enough, that emboldened me to take the current course of action which," his rubbed the back of his neck. "After sleeping on it for the night and waking up with my head still on my shoulders, I have become more convinced it was the best one to take."
"How's about we didn't chance it?"
"That is not an option anymore," Gallade bluntly put.
"Because you let the opportunity slip by, yes!" Gothitelle's response was no less frank.
"I have full faith that he'll be here shortly," he put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it... it's just the sensible route for him to take. He needs our aid and now depends on our goodwill," he coped.
Darkrai inhaled. "Miss Mawile," while her hand was stuck to her pained ankle, her appendage hovered above her, threatening to either blast or bite. "I do realise that the request might make you uncomfortable... but please let me carry you over to your village already."
"I. Don't. Need. Your. Help!" She refused for a fourth time, preferring to continue lying there and clutching her foot, instead of having to turn to the utterly vile Nightmare Monster for help.
"You cannot make the trip on your own. You require assistance," he told her the same thing for a fourth time as well.
"Go. Away!" She snapped back.
"Please be reasonable, I cannot let you remain here alone."
"Yes, you can and you will! Go away!"
He inhaled once more, this time to whine and humiliate himself. "Have I not shown nothing but courtesy towards you here? Why make helping you so difficult? Am I truly such a detestable creature, that you would rather sit here with a sprained ankle, rather than let me aid you?"
Having to articulate such an embarrassing phrase made him want to retract his head and burrow into the shadows for the rest of the day. Hopefully, it will have been worth it. He needed to catch up to Morgrem, before he sowed panic throughout the village.
In response, she huffed. Simply... huffed. Huffed and then crossed her arms, and then turned to look at anything other than him.
Alright, he would have to become less courteous. Saddening, really.
"Let me make my position clear to you, then," Darkrai hissed, immediately reminding himself to soften his — truthfully irritated — tone as, again, he had to remember that she was a mere child. "I cannot in good conscience leave you here with a sprained ankle. If you do not leave, I will not leave."
Another huff and crossing of the arms. "Okay, I'm not scared of being around you at all!"
That wasn't what he meant! He wasn't trying to intimidate her! "You misunderstand: if I do not leave here, I will not appear before your village," her attention was finally caught. "Not only will this cause widespread panic, but Gallade — whom I know you admire so much — will be utterly humiliated."
"You're awful," she snarled. "You can't do that to Gallade!"
"I am making certain that you are not left alone in the middle of a vast, open field while being incapacitated," he crossed his arms. "I do not wish for any of that to befall him, nor Haven... but I believe him reasonable enough to discern that the ensuing anxiety of the entire village and his own embarrassment would be — in large part — your fault."
She stared at him and considered for a moment, before eventually huffing — again! — and rolling her eyes. "Picky upy."
"What?"
Once she extended her arms he understood that she had accepted his offer, leading him to gently extract her from the ground, making certain not to further irritate the poor child's leg.
He was thanked with a bite to the arm.
Her teeth sinking into the already mangled flesh of his wrist made him shriek with pain and almost throw her back to the ground, before he composed himself and looked down to the toddler he was clutching. "I am begging you to be cooperative... please. For your own well-being."
"I'm just holding on," she frowned. "You know, just in case you try and drop me!"
The Moonshadow could only sigh. Fine. The Vice Grip was barely painful, in truth. He could well endure it for the length of the trip back to town.
"I told you. I told you! I told you that you had no idea what you were doing!" Gothitelle paced from one end of the Town Square to another, boiling, while Gallade could do nothing more than simply take it, his sights firmly stuck to the pavement, avoiding the distressed gazes of his villagers.
Darkrai was late. Late, or not arriving at all.
"Aww, come on, he's just a wee-bit late, is all!" Espurr tugged on Gothitelle's dress, before she was promptly scooped off the ground and held dangling in front of her fuming face.
"You, little one, are complicit and I do not want to hear anything more from you," she couldn't keep herself from angrily shaking the toddler, before a degree of guilt set in and she went to continue with a genuinely concerned, whining tone. "Espurr, please, I'm telling you this for your own good, understand that you've been tricked. Darkrai is NOT coming, if that wasn't clear enough to you anymo—"
The swish of a gust of wind cut her off: Gallade had lunged from her side to the very edge of Haven's core, peering into an alleyway from which Morgrem — disheveled and out of breath — soon emerged.
"It got her," the goblin whimpered, throwing himself into Gallade's arms. "It got her! It got Mawile!"
The silent, terrified gapes of the surrounding crowd were short-lived, the entire village soon erupted into a panic and, before Gallade could ask for any elaboration, the goblin was whisked away from his arms by Gothitelle.
Gothitelle gave him a glacial stare. Not angry, she had no anger to spare, only ashen. "D—Do you realise what you've just done? Can you even begin to fathom what you've just condemned her to, all of us to? What you've condemned us to again?"
"I—I... I..." the Guardian could only stutter.
"Uhm... good morning, villagers," the familiar voice made the skin of every villager crawl in tandem.
They turned their sights towards its source.
Their nightmarish wraith suddenly appeared from the depths of the same alleyway as Morgrem had.
Everyone there retreated to the edges of the plaza, making room for it to landed at its heart, extending its eerie appendages and planting them firmly onto the pavement.
Its dire claws slightly reclined from their clamp around its torso, revealing the horrible sight of the injured Mawile hidden behind them.
"She injured herself."
And that was the last of my buffer chapters, updates will now follow my schedule as I write the next ones and will announce the dates at the end of the chapter before, with the coming update being before April 24th.
I hope you enjoyed!