Day had long already broken over Haven, but the sleepless Murkrow hadn't remained sleepless this night – not most of them, no - and there had been no one left to wake the villagers. The townsfolk had slept in until noon, and now, after having been roused by a wave of nightmares, they assembled in small groups throughout the residential street. There, they agitated over their shared, nightly frights.
The first to join the outside had been Pumpkaboo and Ribombee, with Oricorio following suit, carrying Kricketune alongside her. Ariados, who lived not in the village, but hailed from a colony in a neighbouring forest, was relieved to see that he had returned to an active – if very panicked – scene. Most of the rest of the townsfolk joined the fray there soon after, and rather than speculate when or if a next person would awaken, wondering whether they truly were all there became the main concern.
Tied for second place was the question of what had even happened. To that end and despite protests from Leavanny even, Gallade had tasked Espurr, Mawile, and Morgrem with the cataloguing of all those confirmed to be awake, all those confirmed to potentially not be so, and of informing everyone individually of what had transpired. Truthfully, all that mattered was that Espurr, as Dream Eater, be the first on site. The other two could be there for morale, he reasoned.
And there were few things more needed right then and there than a boost to morale.
«And, well, uhm, that was why everyone was woken up by nightmares this morning... I think,» Espurr did her best to accomplish exactly that, with Oricorio and Kricketune all intently listening, while Morgrem and Mawile were busy with their spat over who to visit next. «Do you have any more questions, Mr. Kricketune, Miss Oricorio?» Even if she gaped expectantly, she hoped not. They needed to get a move on with their list, but Mawile was too afraid for Espurr to let her walk around alone, and Morgrem was too afraid for himself to split the task and go his own way.
«Could he not have been gentler with what he showed poor gramps, at least?» The bird folded her wings around the old bug, hoping that some warmth would make him stop quivering, if it worked so well against shivering from the cold. «You're badly shaken,» was her response to him mumbling something in disapproval the moment after.
«Heheh, I'll be fine, I'll be fine,» Kricketune gestured her away, though not with enough determination to make her think her touch was unwanted. «I'll get to the morning performance in a second, she'll get to dancing... we'll liven the street up.»
«We'll see how you're feeling after the warm soup,» Oricorio dismissed him, but her gaze back to Espurr showed that the same was not case for the question she had in mind. «So?»
«Darkrai... would certainly have found it much, much, harder to go to everyone one by one and wake them in such a way,» she lifted her paw, calling their attention for another round of explanations, but seemed to be reaching her brink when it came to arguing Darkrai's case for him. «Whenever we talk, he says that making a dream... not good, but not too terrible, requires him effort. He would have been in a panic as well, and so doing that would have required more time and attention... and everyone would have slept longer, with him not knowing why they hadn't woken up in the first place, I think.»
And the bird's attention veered back towards making sure Kricketune could lean against her comfortably.
«Espurr, lass, I wouldn't want to be the one spreading rumours again,» it was the old 'mon's turn to speak, and his trembling tone hampered the attempt at coming off as chipper, or even fine. «I got into big trouble for it back in my days, heheh... would sing the news on the street, and it was news even to the Great Dragon above who made the heavens and the Earth. Spouted drivel and gossip whenever I could for the fun of it, heheheh,» that brief reminiscing and the giggling that ensued, though, was entirely genuine happiness. «Ahh, but don't be like that, as Dream Eater you ought to be more responsible than me. Besides, poor lil' Kricketot didn't dare continue after a good scolding from Bisharp.»
«Don't worry Mr. Kricketune, I will remain fully responsible and careful with what I tell others,» it felt appropriate for her to straighten her posture and salute, even if it the gesture made her giggle at herself right after. «Both Miss Gothitelle and Darkrai have warned against being careless, especially now. So don't be worried at all ! You can trust me...! But... what rumours are you talking about?»
There went his momentary cheer. «Oh, darn! Yeah... Mothim passed by here on her way to the library, and told us one or two things...»
«Do we know whether they'll all be alright?» Oricorio chimed in.
Her remark was far more efficient at gathering others' attention.
«Oh, the Murkrow and Mr. Honchkrow? Yes, I was just about to tell! They are alright so far!» Fortunately, Espurr could at least placate that particular worry. «When we woke up, they were all found unconscious inside of Miss Gothitelle's Sanctuary. Maybe they drank something or another that they shouldn't have?» She allowed herself to insert. That wasn't anyone's theory, but her own. She'd have to tell either Darkrai or Gallade... actually, both, about it. It made sense! »They seem to be just asleep, not having frightening dreams at all, just asleep! Which is odd, but it's true!»
«Honchkrow was with them as well, so they may have gotten into a fight like last time,» the goblin added with palpable uncertainty. «We still don't know what that's about, or what happened. Three of the birds weren't touched and are still awake.»
«But they've been feeling sick and acting erratic!» Mawile added.
«Yeah! Can't get a coherent word out of them! They're just shrieking!»
«Oh. I can only wish them the best of luck, and say that I have full faith that they will recover,» Kricketune nodded along to Oricorio's statement. «Yes... best of luck to them,» she took a deep breath.
«I think they'll be alright, I truly do! If they aren't twitching or crying, then they aren't having nightmares, and if they aren't having nightmares, then nothing should be keeping them from waking up, outside of being tired... somehow!» She shrugged. It wasn't as though abilities had no weaknesses, right? The Murkrow couldn't sleep because of Insomnia, but they could faint, and there were many substances in the Sanctuary that weren't safe. Or they had fought? «Plus, Darkrai can sense when someone isn't awake, and so he won't come to Haven and endanger them!»
«I... well, let's hold out hope that you're right. You are the Dream Eater, after all.»
«I'm afraid that, either way, this is going to be quite the drab morning, this time 'round, after all,» Kricketune remarked. «See this?» He stretched out his claw: it was shaking, enough so to be immediately noticeable, even from afar. «Hands too shaky to play the morning tune, I'd wager. Hope it doesn't stay this way for too long,» yet another awkward chuckle. «Back when... I got my first of these nightmares, I was just wee lil' Kricketot. It was about Lilligant, none of you youngins knew her...»
They knew about her well enough to know that his nightmare about her had, eventually, become a reality.
«It packed a punch — I'd still start shaking all of a sudden and have my wings unfold at random, like I was trying to fly away at any moment, and my antennae twitch for a week or so after... or was it a month? — but then I powered through the next and the next pretty darn well, heheh!»
His proud expression soured and deflated.
«But, ah well, guess I'm getting pretty old,» he looked back to his shaking claw. His breath was no steadier, he had become tired from just standing there. «I'm starting to feel the nightmares' nastiness again... this one was about her,» he glanced over to Oricorio, whose wings instantly enveloped him like a blanket.
«Well, thank you kids for checking up on us, it's much appreciated,» she nudged him towards the door. «Anyhow, let's get you inside, in the warm, Kricketune. I think I still have the recipe for that brew that Gothi prescribed last time in mind.»
«Well, I'm very sorry for what happened to you, Mr. Kricketune! Do keep in mind that Darkrai did have to do that to wake everyone up. It would have been terrible if everyone woke up even more later than usual on their own and panicked, and even worse if they did keep on sleeping and never woke and—» Espurr continued to plead his case until the door was shut.
«Kricketune and Oricorio: check,» Morgrem declared. «Let's not wait around, we need to be off to check on Ribombee next, and she's across the village!»
«But I already told you that either Mr. Arbok or Mr. Ursaring should come next!» Mawile protested. «One is Kricketune and Oricorio's friend, and the other two are the closest. It's easier to remember everyone if we stick to one of those methods.»
«It is quite true that it would be awfully terrible, if we were to forget somebody,» now free, Espurr allowed herself to comment. Maybe she could even get them to get a move on, already! «So let's scout out for Mr. Arbok here, if he isn't here, we'll frequent Mr. Ursaring's Stead.»
«But... Mr. Arbok and Ursaring... they're grouchy when they wake up,» Morgrem crossed his arms. «Probably doubly more so after the nightmares. We should leave them for last. I don't like being yelled at, or... being meaned to without getting yelled at, even.»
«Morg, come on, you can't be serious!» Mawile made sure her headshake was as exaggerated as it could be, without the jaw tipping her over.
«Hey! I bet you don't even know the story of how Ursaring once overslept, and then hit Bisharp with a Sleep Talk-Hammer Arm combo when he tried to wake him up!»
Soon enough, however, the conundrum was no more: Arbok slithered out from a space in-between the structures of the overhang of Ursaring's Stead, and slid down the corner of the building, towards Kricketune and Oricorio's, rising above the trio and peering at the door they were just at.
«They... they are well, right?» The serpent cautiously asked. Espurr first guessed that he was made nervous due to the night terrors, though later realised that her – the Dream Eater – lingering in front of someone's door did not inspire calm.
«Oh! Mr. Kricketune and Miss Oricorio are both doing fairly alright, Arbok!» She calmed him down. «We're just going about the village, making sure everyone's awake, which they have been so far! They'll explain everything that happened to you inside.»
«I, uh, uh, yeah!» Morgrem retreated a few steps from the serpent floating overhead. «Kricketune's kinda shook, though! Go and check up on him yourself!»
«I... good... good,» Arbok heaved himself to enter through a hole between the roof and walls, turning to them one last time before doing so. «I... dreamt that they weren't.»
She didn't quite know why that made her want to tear up ever slightly. It hadn't happened. Nothing had happened to them.
«Arbok: check.»
Espurr couldn't help but feel... a little down, to say the least. Morgrem and Mawile, meanwhile, weren't taking it too badly.
«The Stead, then?» Mawile asked and the goblin sighed, though nodded after an eyeroll.
Ursaring's home and workshop was next up for their morning inspection: Mawile and Espurr stood by, and Morgrem — who was reticent to go knocking himself, but would also get very nervous, if either of the other two «did it wrong», knocking too loudly, or too many times at once — was the one to politely tap on the door. The three bangs administered, he quickly vacated the area, fearing that someone would — again — slam him while opening, and the trio then went on their merry way, after the response came.
Morgrem cleared his throat. «Ursaring, che-»
Except, no, they were mechanically moving to the next residence, as they had grown used to doing, but there hadn't been an answer to those three knocks.
They couldn't hear Ursaring unlock behind them, either, nor could they hear the portal creak open at all, if it had already been unlocked...
«Wah—?» The goblin was the first to realise — he had already been dreading this — and pivoted to worriedly gape at the handle, and then the window. Unable to keep himself from imagining the worst, he froze up. «Oh no...»
«I am inclined to believe that Mr. Ursaring is simply quite the deep sleeper,» Espurr reassured, hovering onto the window. She gently tapped the glass, with no result, and then tried to peer inside, with no result. It was darker in the interior than she had thought it would be. That he was a deep sleeper still made that make sense, though.
«He did once sleep through a flood, so maybe he's fine after all?» Morgrem coped.
«He said right after that he had actually needed to just lie down for a moment, because he'd be repairing all of the damages,» Mawile retorted.
«Reads like a joke, but maaaaaybe?» The goblin's hair slowly rising mirrored his panic. The same was true for every other aspect of his demeanour from the suddenly twitchy fingers to his eyes darting to every corner of the road, in search of invisible enemies or help.
«I don't think he tells those sorts of jokes,» he didn't quite care to make sense of Mawile's retort, and neither did Espurr, who approached the doorway as they scuffled.
Then, she halted with a jolt and her fur springing up. An imperceptible screeching had abruptly filled her ears, and indeed she could see from the shadow she had momentarily cast that her ears had begun to glow, making the pavement glimmer, only to subside the second after, when she had stepped back. She rubbed them. It stung. It wasn't a strange feeling, that singular mix of relief and strain as the energy threatened to free itself from her and obliterate her surroundings, it was all too familiar. It felt exactly like her normal outbursts, truth be told! Except that she had felt no emotion strong enough to push her into freeing it... now, she craved the sensation once more.
But it also hadn't been so sudden, come to think of it. It had risen exponentially as she had neared the portal, and a naive second attempt at walking up to the door had the same effect: her ears started to burn, the psychic wave jeopardised the integrity of all that was around her with a menacing quake, and she stepped back without anyone having noticed... yet the allure of that stimulus grew again, and then she tried again, composed and with her thoughts ordered, however, as she would do to stave off any one of her more usual meltdowns.
It worked! Though almost didn't – it was a bit like trying to walk around while tired, stumbling and catching yourself, to her – but she was fine, and so was the infrastructure around her. She was closer to the door, like before, but holding it steady this time. Weird!
«Morg! Mawile!» She shouted their names louder than she ought to have: they were standing there, right beside her, but, for a moment, a part of her had doubted if they would be able to hear her pleas at all. No, there had never been a reason to doubt that - Morgrem complained about the pointless cry startling him - and she approached them to feel their warmth, a mere three to four steps away from the lonely place where she had stood.
She could swear that her voice had echoed. Espurr wanted to draw closer to the door... just to see whether it would echo again...
Even as she joined them, none seemed to have noticed that she had been intrigued and then spooked and then intrigued anew by the doorway. Otherwise, Morgrem would not have dared to run up to it, only to be apparently struck with the same sensation as her: terror that made him stop dead in his tracks, and his hairs stand on end. He idled there, stiff for a hot moment, and then recoiled with a burst of adrenaline, retreating behind Mawile.
«I don't think Ursaring is fine in there,» the goblin bleated, spurring Mawile into approaching the door, and baring her teeth at it out of instinct.
She was brave enough to attempt another step towards it – questioning whether she would be brave enough to enter, all the while – but found herself chained to the ground with a shot of Sticky Web. «Gah!» Her maw only narrowly caught her trip.
«Stay away from that there door!», Ariados' warning made them jump, as did him then emerging from the corner, crawling sideways and then down to meet them. «My spider senses are telling me that there's something amok,» Ariados rose into a defensive stance counter the door, placing himself between them and it.
«We know! We felt it, too!»
After a long moment of idling there with mandibles bared and legs outstretched while nothing actually happened, he began to feel comfortable enough to abandon the pose, and instead circled the doorframe, maybe to better hear any movement within, but the only sound to disturb the silence was that of the scuttling of his myriad legs. «Get up in there, Ursa!»
«I... I don't think he's well,» the psychic-type whimpered. They had been told that it could be dangerous to approach... places that did not seem right. Darkrai had told her as much. The sense of empressement, though, was hard to resist.
«And what exactly's been going on here today?» Ariados turned to them, perplexed and defeated. «I don't sleep, but I do spend most of the night in my den underground. I waited ages, but never heard the Murkrow call for me in the morning!»
«They... didn't wake up.»
«Yeah, they seem to have been knocked out. None of us woke up because of that,» Mawile, still biting away at the now hardened web binding her feet, completed.
«Oh... I... I couldn't have done anything about it,» Ariados' mandibles clanged as he thought. «When I did decide to head on over here, finally, it was day by then, I got lost, and only made my way here now.»
«How'd you manage that?» Mawile couldn't hide that she found it a tad ridiculous. «It's always the same path!»
«I... maybe it was, but I think coming at a different time confused me. It felt more twisting, and I ended up elsewhere.»
«Ah-huh,» she still found that a bit dumb, but now it seemed mostly strange.
«The pathway through the lower forest isn't the same anymore, I tell you!»
Talk of anomalies served to further contort Morgrem's expression into an anxious grimace, but also to motivate Mawile into acting: she awkwardly marched up the steps of the elevated porch, and her appendage rose above her head.
«Alright, okay, maybe, uhm, d—don—?» Morgrem fumbled his protests.
Her maw swiftly descended, percussing the door with full force and almost unhinging it from its bolts.
«Gah!» The goblin flinched, jumping backwards and then crawling his way onto the overhang of the next house over. Already, Mawile was preparing to strike it again. «Come on, you can't just break down the door! He could still just he sleeping! He'll be darn mad! Gallade didn't tell us that we can enter homes, still, right? Maybe it's still rude!»
«I work in there!» Ariados complained to her.
«But maybe Mr. Ursaring is in danger, we have to wake him up!» Mawile responded, her next hit only being stopped by Espurr getting in the way and using her telekinesis to undo the lock. «... okay, nice going, Esp, and now let's be the ones to get going inside!»
«I think we should instead alert Miss Leavanny and Gothitelle,» Morgrem took his turn to impose himself between them and the inside, though rapidly shifted back down onto the road, when he gazed into the darkness behind him. «They're the ones who can do anything if he is unwell!»
«Alrighty, Morg, that's true, you can go and alert everyone that something isn't right, but I'll need to start trying to wake him up with Dream Eater as soon as I can, if he really isn't awake!» Espurr commanded, inching towards the murky insides of Ursaring's Stead. «Mawile, you can... uhm...»
«I'll be your bodyguard against this abyss !» She snapped her jaw at the blackness in front of them. «You never know who could be hiding in the shadows.»
«I... hmm, yeah!» Espurr thought, came to no conclusion, and agreed.
She would be the first to step forth, testing the waters for them. It was strange, but her instincts... weren't really acting up. It was pretty tranquil there. From within the darkness, her bubbly, pink eyes shone, and betrayed no sudden trepidation: Espurr seemed to be calmly scouring through the environment, and her gaze their way invited Mawile and Morgrem inside.
«Gah, we need to get to Ursaring before this gets bad,» unexpectedly, the goblin was the one to abruptly pass Mawile by and plunge into the darkness of the Stead, though was forced to slow down, after his hair had almost made a statuette fall over. «I'm coming, too.»
«Then I'll be the one to go and alert the warden,» Ariados was already on his way, not seeming too bothered by being the one to remain on the outside anymore.
Soon, all three of them were inside, though a particular miasma in the air was still frustrating their expedition's advance: a foreboding that filled the room, making them struggle for their every movement. The same feeling which had stopped them dead in their tracks, upon nearing the door, but whose tug was harder to resist still. Despite this, there was still something luring her in, allowing her to advance.
To Espurr, though, this potent nervousness was remarkably familiar, and for a reason which only reinforced it: like the Dream Realm, but only as it was nearing degeneration into a nightmare. Not good! But maybe it felt that way because there was someone being afflicted by the darkness nearby? Was Ursaring then really unwell?
«What happened to them?» Gallade's voice had never been so shrill. The guardian delicately pulled one of the fainted bird's wing up, displaying it for Darkrai, but it was of no use: the latter could never hope to look away from the warden's increasingly wrathful expression. «Not twitching. Not convulsing. Not even shaking...» his tone swayed from furious, to the brink of whining, exasperated, and back. His grimace followed, and the wraith carefully studied every minute change, honestly more at ease staring into Gallade's expression - trying to figure out whether he would burst into tears or shout again next - than if he were to dare look at his latest set of victims.
Paradoxically, he had hoped Gothitelle would intervene. She had a knack for motivating Gallade into taking his side through dishonesty and generalised reaching. At worst, arguing against her was easier than being pressured into giving an answer he did not have! Instead, she was stood there, for the first time seeming conflicted as to what to say. Darkrai, meanwhile, was being relentlessly prodded for a response.
The accusation was evident, even while the increasingly upset and incoherent warden had made no effort for it to be so. How Darkrai was to respond, however, was anything but, and a confusion of emotions was keeping him from considering what any less evident answer could be: he had first seen them... no, he had first been told what had happened, only half-cogently by Gallade, though, and had then attempted to use this ambiguity in order to stave off the gnawing feeling that he had - obviously - made an egregious mistake, somehow. That he had harmed them, somehow.
It was only then that he arrived at the Sanctuary... and saw the bodies. He had hurt someone after all, the optimism had been misplaced. As usual.
But they were not dead! It was a relief!
But they were not awake, either! His presence there would kill them!
But his curiosity was killing him, right then and there, and he was forced to draw nearer, just to test a hunch that seemed too good to be true, or to be ignored outright, a small detail he had noticed on the way in, and which he could not keep himself from examining: with the same delicateness, but also with far more hurry, Darkrai zoomed from one end of the row of beds holding unconscious birds to the other, and tugged on their little wings and talons, too, though hesitating to press down on their chests to gauge their breathing.
Still, he could tell that they were not... twitching, nor convulsing, nor shaking, nor exhibiting any other signs of being afflicted, as Gallade had pointed out! As he had noticed!
That what was happening was perhaps not wholly bad, and maybe even a scenario with certain positive aspects, however, was the most perplexing part of it. Unexpected situations did not tend to go his way! And now here he was: watching as a half-hundred potential victims slept by him, all without being turned into victims! The Murkrow were not being afflicated with the blight!
Barely credible...
...
Alright, he would dare to think it: were they perhaps... not sick, because he no longer spread the sickness?
...
No, that was not the case. He had made the mistake of being overly hopeful far too many times during these past few days, he had become vaccinated against optimism by then.
They... but they were dreaming! He could sense it and sense it well, the ripples all around them were well readable to him, he could feel their dreams so clearly... and they were so pure! The birds were at ease! But how?
'How' indeed... and why could he not peer inside? Why hadn't a vision, a sense, of what they were seeing, feeling, come to him immediately, when he was so fixated on them, as it ought to have? Well, he was certain that he could see what they saw, if he put his mind to it... but there was some sort of fickle equilibrium shielding them and their dreams, a fine sheath - that, he could feel - giving their Dream Realm form.
A pocket dimension? Most likely, and he was far too prudent to project himself forcefully inside it. He wanted to see what was happening within, what he did not wish to see, however, was this oddity turn back to error, were he to puncture it, and their minds be flooded with a deathly darkness after all.
But they were near him, and they were sleeping, and they were dreaming, and the dreams were remaining dreams. How?
It... reminded him of someone, frankly... but it was not just her who could do this. There existed many more possibilities for a culpri- for who the saviour of the birds could be. For as hard as keeping himself from prodding their subconscious in search of an answer felt, he would have to approach this situation with care and-
Gallade's blade seemed far sharper than the last time they had fought, the wraith realised, once he had turned around to see the warden inching it closer and closer towards his head. He could sense its might. He had trained, evidently and...
It would never be enough. What was the fool even doing?
Darkrai gazed down at the sharp sword, over to Gothitelle – pulling on the drapery of the doorway to try and conceal herself, though still gesticulating at Gallade with one hand, acting as though she were throwing punches, prodding him into fighting... ceasing to do so, once their eyes met - and then back to the warden. Was this the moment? Was this the moment? Was this the moment? Was this the moment? Had everything already crumbled for him? Every second of silence he dedicated to repeating that thought served to make Gallade fume further and more fiery, making this excruciating staredown last all the longer.
Yet, the longer it lasted, the more time the warden spent staring at him, rather than spearing him in the abdomen, the more evident it became that the question had already been answered, at the very least. The Moonshadow seized itself: no, Gallade was just being impulsive, but not so much so as to strike at him.
... the answer! He had not answered!
Confident in his survival not being in jeopardy, the Nightmare Weaver looked back to the flock of Murkrow. So, what was happening? What was he to answer?
Blast it! He simply would... not answer... yet!
«It would be a grave mistake for you to carry out that gesture to its conclusion,» Darkrai pivoted back towards him and drew nearer, while Gallade proved that he would not be making said mistake, as he flinched and stumbled back a few steps, drawing his blade away. With a glare in his direction, meant to better analyse the details of the guardian's expression - still to gauge whether or not there was even the inkling of a threat of an assault at all - Darkrai realised that - once again - he had come off as a threat himself, and instantly moved to correct his misstep. «I... I did not even touch the avians, no,» his voice shifted to the most clearly regretful tone he could muster, upon seeing that Leavanny, as well, had tensed, and that Gothitelle was nowhere in sight anymore.
«Gallade, stand down, dear,» perhaps unexpectedly, perhaps not, Leavanny did not make a move against him, but against Gallade: she anxiously wrapped her hand around his blade, keeping him from any brusque movements.
There was no need. Gallade threw a glance behind himself, expecting maybe a Shadow Sneak to slash at him when he was not looking? It was unclear, and he seemed to be doing his best to make ambiguous just what he was up to. Finally, the warden drew his blade away in full, it receded back into his arm. His nerves hadn't been calmed by that - there was no way for them to have been - but it had most likely startled him back into docility.
«Darkrai, dear, do breathe a little,» Leavanny's tender pat on the shoulder came as a surprise, though maybe it oughtn't have. «I do understand that this is tense for you, but you seem to be zoning out again. Are you feeling well?»
«Could you instead ask whether the Murkrow are feeling well, Leavanny?» Gallade fumed.
«They are,» and Darkrai's comment was water to a fire.
Gallade instantly calmed, or at least was being silent now. He had been the first to point out that they weren't in pain, but it seemed to have shocked him only now.
«Gallade! Gallade! Gallade!» Pumpkaboo's dash into the room from the open window startled them in unison, seeming to even get a reaction out of the unconscious Murkrow, with them all tensing at the scream. «Oh... uh, good morning, Mr. the Nightmare Weaver!» She blinked and recoiled upon seeing him, he responded with a simple 'greetings,' followed by her name.
Gallade groaned. «What is it now, Pumpkaboo?»
«I... uhh, Ursaring hasn't woken up!» She finally exclaimed, staring at the now perplexed Darkrai.
The warden's eyes, too, glanced back to the Moonshadow for a split second. «What?»
«Well... well! No, not that!» She walked back on her words. «He wasn't present at the head count! That's what I mean! That's what I meant, I mean!»
«Alright, that's... manageable,» Gallade extended his arms, telling the room to calm, though he was obviously the one under most strain. «It doesn't have to mean that anything's happening to him, he just tends to oversleep often. The wave of nightmares just didn't get him hard enough. I'll go ahead and-»
«Ariados also says that he feels there's something else, strange, with the Stead.»
And that would explain quite a few things. Darkrai could not, no matter how focused he became, feel Ursaring's conscience anywhere within the Dream Realm. This harked back to what happened to Scyther and the one Murkrow prior, didn't it?
The wraith gave Gallade a look. «We both ought to postpone this discussion for later in the day, I believe this requires our common attendance,» Darkrai soothed his tone, bowed, and was on the verge of proceeding with his next action – plunging into the shadows, out of there, and going to the Stead – but was most rudely halted by Gallade's blade threatening to impale him once more. «Must we?» He growled.
«Not a threat to skewer you, just blocking your exit,» Gallade did well to earn another groan from the Nightmare Weaver. «As of now, I cannot fully trust you, or trust that your presence won't lead to the usual problem. Let's be prudent.»
«I can assure you that Ursaring's presence cannot be felt within the Dream Realm. He is not asleep,» the wraith spoke with more confidence than he had, frankly. He had nightmares within nightmares about this exact scenario, of even those bits of his powers that were helpful – feeling when someone was dreaming – betraying him, failing.
«Darkrai, apply the usual prudence and leave, please,» a most unpleasant staredown had started. «There are things that I'd like to discuss without your presence as well. Allow us to reimpose order before having to deal with you, I beg.»
The wraith knew already that if Gallade did not immediately fold, he would be the one to do so. To save time on dealing with whatever had happened at the bear's establishment if nothing else. To keep the peace, if something else, he was remaining there on burrowed leniency. «Very well, very well,» he allowed himself to finish his bow, and left.
Left while feeling rather upset, he had to be honest with himself!
Boiling with increasing intensity for every meter that he put between himself and the Sanctuary, Darkrai attempted to swallow his frustration, repeating those words - what was it? «Burrowed leniency»? The pure vexation clouded his mind - in his head only. Itt would cause chaos and also be embarrassing, were he to be overheard.
He continued onwards, towards the Blightwoods. It was a slog to motivate himself into doing so, but then again every action would be tiresome in such circumstances, he'd need to weather it and give himself silence to think this through. His name being called from behind him, though, allowed the phantom to stay put a moment longer. It wasn't calm, it would confuse him further, but it was Miss Leavanny, and a moment more spent with her would be its own reward. A visit to the market with her and Espurr would be quite quaint, looking back on it.
«Oh, Miss Leavanny ! » Precarious situations made his tone meek and hesitant, he had found out. But a month ago, the wraith had thought himself able to keep his composure perfectly, even during battles and ambushes. Granted, it was not often that he was finding himself confronted by either, in order to determine whether that was still the case or not.
« Darkrai ! A more formal good morning to you, good sir, since circumstances separated us so quickly ! » Her greeting and giggle and smile and bow were both pleasant and – for reasons he did not immediately grasp – mildly irritating.
The reasons were that he had meant to extend similar wishes for a fine noon – it was, indeed, noon by that point, she was simply confused due to the late awakening – yet hadn't done so, as he was stupid and got lost in thought upon emerging from the shadows again.
«And a lovely noon to you, as well, » he would be polite without joining her in being wrong, however... or by tying her down for too long a moment, when he realised that the medical caretaker perhaps ought to hurry and join the others at Ursaring's Stead. «I am sorry that you are on the verge of being beset with yet another worry-»
Her antennae rose. «What is it now?»
«-but there is a developing situation at Ursaring's Stead, of the variety which likely links back to me,» he loathed to phrase it in such a euphemistic manner, but it was the only way to spit out what he meant in a timely fashion. He was beginning to notice that he possessed many such emotional blocks. «Do not panic, though, if anyone were to be in pain, I would sense it, and I currently do not.»
He had been granted a long moment to theorise as to why that was, fortunately...
« Oh, good! I'll hurry off, we'll see each other at the...» she stopped herself mid-pivot, eager to run off and help, but with seemingly one last query in mind. «But, wait, what does that mean? Why are you leaving, then?»
« I am not certain when it comes to the former, but would rather be prudent, when it comes to the latter, » the Moonshadow obfuscated for a second, before backtracking. « Gallade has declared that I am essentially under house arrest until new order – with the Blightwoods qualifying as my home, of course - and as such must depart to my home on the peripheries with immediate effect. »
« Oh ! Ah, well... ! » He couldn't lie, it made him glad that the first emotion her expression betrayed was outrage, but she had seemingly realised that she could not be outraged at Gallade, when she knew not his reasoning... and also because he was physically not there with them to argue with, of course. «I will hurry on and ask for clarifications later, dear, I'll be back to talk to you soon,» she had to lean down to tell him that, he was already melding back into the ground.
«Agreeable,» the wraith gave a nod and, the second after, his head was reduced to but a black silhouette on the dirt. «I shall visit you in dream, tonight, if you so consent.»
«No need, dear, I'll join you in the woods, once I can.»
Her own proposal was apparently a diktat, as she departed shortly after stating it, leaving him with no option but to do the same in the other direction. That wasn't an ideal course of action. It made him nervous for little reason. Still, gone he soon was, with speed and focus to compensate for the time spent talking to her, he crossed into the Blightwoods with such haste that...
Darkrai halted, and decided that he had to be frank with himself: here, he had one example of someone – some... many of them – being both comatose, yet unaffected by his ability. The birds were a peculiar case, but he knew that he could trust in his powers, at the very least. Now, there was seemingly an anomaly at Ursaring's Stead, and Darkrai could sense at the also very least that the bear was not asleep, if he took as an axiom that the sway over the Dream Realm granted to him by Arceus was absolute, with the obvious caveat, and that he truly did border on omniscience within it.
No, what had happened to the Murkrow and Honchkrow did not tie back to him, and Ursaring's case either was not a matter in any meaningful sense to begin with, or was a matter that did not emanate from him. At least he hoped. On the other hand, Scyther and a Murkrow had gotten lost in a dimensional warp the last time, which had required his direct intervention.
With those thoughts ordered and his nerves calming, his previous halt was now accompanied by an abrupt turn back towards the village.
Darkrai clenched his fist. Yes, even with this rather minor recapitulation – which he had done only a moment after snapping out of the chaos-induced daze of the morning – the wraith could realise that he'd need to circumvent Gallade's recommendations, which he, in fact, had no reservations in doing whatsoever. Dwelling among the Havenish had left him feeling far too Havenish... well, he was Haven... ish, but also a spawn of Arceus, and he had more than enough confidence in his judgement here to not have to humour Gallade. It would be a mistake to leave them alone, if a spatio-temporal distortion occurring. He ought to have insisted to stay put, frankly. He could have avoided the stealth entirely that way.
And, also, most important in motivating this new judgement of the situation: he knew that the kids had been the ones sent to verify that everyone was awake, ergo they would be at the epicenter of whatever had been noticed at Ursaring's establishment, ergo he needed to be there and make sure that Espurr in particular did not even get close to being in trouble.
Decision made – and feeling sad that he did not spend a moment longer speaking with Miss Leavanny, when he had decided to ignore the warden's diktat after all – the wraith bolted in the other direction, once again at a quick pace due to her: he was likely to run into Leavanny at the Stead, but if not, he'd need to investigate the situation and then return immediately, so as to not leave her wandering alone in the Blightwoods, when concernment was universally high.
Gallade extended his hand towards the hinge, and it recoiled instinctively, once it had passed over the protruding threshold.
The warden grasped that right arm with his left and took a few cautious steps backwards to get away from the porch, even. He'd trust that his hand had his best interests in mind, and turned to his compatriots to nod, confirming for them that, yes, he had no clue what was happening, what or whether evil lurked on the other side of it.
«What do we do now?» Ariados asked.
For the following few minutes, every Pokemon chimed in, making for a wholly mixed set of responses that had the street devolve into an incoherent cacophony, until Gallade gestured for everyone to quiet down, that was.
And it hadn't been that some had given one opinion, and others a different idea, but, rather, every single villager had during that short moment of freedom of expression flipped from one side of the debate to the other, and every proposal had been laced with «but», and «though», and «or». This oughtn't be the case, the warden told himself, it was clear that the doorway, the building, had been cursed in a way not dissimilar to the abyss in the fields. Ergo, they should be unanimously afraid of it, not want to draw nearer, as he had heard suggested over and over...
Yet he couldn't deny its odd allure, either. The door beckoned for him to invite himself inside – no, it was inviting him in – but doing so brazenly. It was unnatural, too, it was manipulating him and failing at doing so. He oughtn't follow its voiceless commands, it was self-evident, and it wouldn't succeed at making him think otherwise. Instead of tugging at him so brutally, whatever was inside there could have attempted to trick him, to stir him into action, to tug on his heartstrings.
Could it not have lured him inside, by calling for him to be the one to save those who it had trapped there?
Was he going to run to Darkrai for help once again? Was Gallade not their guardian?
Was he not delegating their protection to the only one they could suspect to be their tormentor?
Maybe he ought to enter, then?
For as instinctually wrong and repulsive and distorted the feeling that emanated from it was, it still was the right thing for him to do, he was made to know-
Gothitelle slapped him across the face, and even if his natural helmet absorbed most of the pain, the sudden motion still served to wake him up. «Ow!» He wasn't wholly lucid just yet, and so his first instinct remained to whine.
«Get down from there and away from it!» She tugged him by the arm, forcing Gallade to walk down once again those steps he didn't realised he had climbed for a second time.
It was only then, standing back at the bottom of the porch, that he thought to retract his right hand, which had been frozen outstretched, reaching for the hinge.
«Thank you for that,» Gallade nodded to her, straightened his stance, cleared his throat, and proceeded. «Yeah... I think this is similar to the black hole in the fields.»
Not as though they didn't know already.
«I'm hereby condemning this corner of the street. We'll be avoiding Ursaring's Stead until I can call Darkrai to evacuate those inside like he did last time. Until then,» he was content with how calm he had managed to keep himself – this whole ordeal was making his heart hammer against his chest, in truth - but now in a hurry. He leapt onto one of the roofs, raising his voice. «Take the alleyways, avoid this area, and stay safe.»
«Leavanny and I shall continue to tend to the Murkrow and Honchkrow,» Gothitelle announced, already on her way, with Leavanny showing her approval and sprinting to join her. «Once they've calmed down, I'll be the one to bother with interrogating the birds who didn't get knocked out. High interest in finding out what they were doing in my home, at the very least.»
«Understood, that,» Gallade turned to Arbok next. «Scyther isn't in the best of shape, and Ursaring is, well... Arbok, you'll need to step up and take command here in my short absence with Darkrai.»
There was an exchange of glances and whispers, once their warden had reminded them of just who he intended to meet with.
«Rest assured, we did meet with Darkrai before addressing everyone,» he found it necessary to add. «I think we're still on good terms, and we're not convinced he did any of this... yet. We simply need to ask for his help in dealing with whatever's happening inside there and getting our compatriots out. Again, don't approach it until I make my return.»
Darkrai had developed a confidence with a thousand asterisks. In practice, this lack manifested as the black blot on the ground pausing its trek towards Ursaring's Stead a thousand times over. Whether it be because he had to - once more - verify whether or not he could sense the bear sleeping, and then whether the Murkrow had still not been agitated, and, then, again just a few feet away, whether or not he saw someone who would be of interest to talk to, or follow, or maybe because he had second thoughts about disregarding Gallade's order. The answer was «no» each time, but that did not help make his ride to Haven, and then to the specific building he wanted to visit, any less inelegant and choppy.
Even with those numerous, self-doubt-induced pauses, the distance remained finite, and he later found himself in Haven, and then Ursaring's Stead became visible, and then eventually Ursaring's Stead became hard to miss, because it was right in front of him.
And alongside it were villagers, with Arbok talking about claws reaching from the sky and tearing him apart. Most probably a recounting of a particularly serpentine nightmare, and actually one of the few night terrors he had heard of the snake experiencing. He seldom had those, interesting. Yes, the information he could gather by remaining there could be interesting... but marginally useful, and he had no reason to assume that they would then go on to discuss anything other than the Murkrow, Scyther, Ursaring, so on.
They were chatting next to a potentially hazardous zone, that was another issue. Nothing he could quite do about it, though.
Well.
If he were to emerge, first ask them what the matter was, and then tell them to disperse and that he would carry out his own investigation - if they did not already know and thus couldn't explain it to him, anyway – then that would be a direct and transparent way to accomplish his latest set of goals. However, it would not go so smoothly. They would probably panic, one would freeze up, Gallade would sense that and need to intervene, ergo interrupt, ergo he would... have a whole situation on his hands. A prickly situation, which wouldn't go his way. No matter what.
If the younglings had gone inside, though, the wraith definitely had other things to tend to, for his part. What had it been by that point? About fifteen minutes since he had met Leavanny?
Thus, no, there was nothing he could do, and would need to leave them be until new order. Her promise was to be kept in mind, he'd need to hurry.
With but a tinge of apprehension, the shade invited itself inside.
Apprehension, due to the uncouthness of slipping beneath the doorway without consent... but only so at first. Soon, it turned into something else. The silence inside was palpable, because it oughtn't have been there at all. Why would they keep dead silent, if all were either awake, or someone needed to be awoken?
A positive sign, then? None were asleep, nothing had happened, just as he had sensed? His intuition was being modest, and was warning him that there was something else afoot. Ursaring perhaps hadn't fallen into an eternal slumber, but his Stead was not desolate because all was well.
It shouldn't have been silent. It shouldn't have been empty. He could only hope that their muteness wasn't caused by grief or mourning.
Once he rose from the pool of black on the ground, his arms tensed, fingers impulsively clenching into a shaky fist. Blacker yet than the murk, a shadow slithered before him, stretching forwards, creeping down into the hallway. This silhouette was his own. He would need to abandon wholesale secrecy; this place required scouting.
His Double Team clones swirled up and down the antechamber, and then through every room that followed, their movements brusque. If... any sort of creature lurked in those crevasses between the furniture or behind the archways, it would be coaxed into attacking, and exposed.
Nothing came of that, though.
He had lost precious moments playing with silhouette dolls for naught... that did not mean that he would neglect his second protocol – using Shadow Sneak to ever so slightly nudge objects here and there, with the same goal – though that yielded no results, either. The shades returned to the foot of their master, and Darkrai finally felt at ease enough to advance. On a rational level, that was, otherwise his bowels still churned with the same violence. The instinctual anxiety did not vanish, it didn't even subside a tad.
No matter the illness, the advance towards where he was certain he'd find the bedroom began.
The wraith drew closer, but his focus instead ventured through every other corner of the room: the shelves were littered with wooden statuettes the bear had carved – of Arrokuda and Mareep, Pansage and Panpour and Pansear lined up one next to the other, covering mouth, eyes, and ears respectively - and all seemed as though they were inching towards a fall. He saw entropy in everything. Further along, there was a glass on the table, he could feel how fragile it was, the wine barrels were yearning to burst, every construction was pining to be unmade, every creak of the old wood demanded from him full attention. Had he gone mad, or were house's groans becoming more numerous?
Rather clumsily, with his cumbersome, large claws almost undoing the door hinge – he was somewhat distracted with also ensuring that his flanks were secure! – he flung the portal open, hurriedly crossing into the bedroom, only to find it unoccupied. Not by Ursaring, not by Leavanny, not by Gothitelle, not by Gallade, not by the kids.
It shouldn't have been silent. It shouldn't have been empty. He shouldn't have been alone in there. That he knew. That sentiment was strengthening, so much so that he began to doubt that it was solely due to his own senses.
And with that realisation, the space began to fight back.
His awareness was being dulled.
He... he had to remind himself that he was still there, and not far off - for a moment, he felt lost. The torpor, the sense of being lost, yes, thrust into a place he did not know. That, he had to fight off. It wasn't a battle he was meant to wage, and, yet... his memories slowly drained, and his grasp on the situation faded, his sights were being dragged from one path to another, from one of the holes in the wall to another, from one of the portals which lead into some room he could not even peer into and then to another, his understanding of what he was even doing there being thrown into disarray!
It didn't work. He was too used to this. ? Everything was confusing, but the feeling itself, as a dream walker he was used to being disoriented in such a way. The question rang pertinent once again: had he even woken up that morning? Was this all a nightmare, one slow to degenerate? Was this him failing at remaining lucid?
He wrapped his arms around himself, retreating into a corner. Around him, the room entered into chaotic motion.
It began to lose all coherence, consistent shape, and matter. Flashing in and out of existence. Episodes of all consuming blackness – where objects faded out of being, leaving behind a gaping hole that peered into the void on the other side – followed ones of dark grey, where the chairs and the covers and the doors and the statuettes were rendered into existence once again, only veiled by a grey murk that blurred the distinction between them with every shift. His surroundings degraded into a confused mound, the melting furniture and walls reduced to seeming like silhouettes poking out from underneath its surface.
He blinked a few times, shook his head, blinked a few more times after that. His senses hadn't returned to normal, because there was no illusion to dissipate: he had well wandered into another distortion in space time, and the slice of the reality the warp had appropriated for itself was nearing its half-life, flickering in and out of being, decaying into a chaotic mass all the while. A time would come shortly where it would cease to be entirely!
There was no reason to panic, Darkrai had to assure himself, he had once been considered rather skilled in the matter of minor spatial-temporal distortions. A technician, even. He had been called so by siblings who knew less.
... and with another look, the chief engineer issued his prognostic: he needed to retreat. He could make his return later, but controlling the current damage done was a vitality. That shattering of glass and reduction to ooze and bubbling were signatures of his own influence; it was surely his presence there that was playing a role in the decomposition of this home.
Fortunately, there was nothing simpler: the entrance was there, the roadblocks to it were being homogenized and flattened into the mass.
He lunged towards it – his enemy, the decaying environment, offered no intelligent counter – and Darkrai burst through the wooden door to freedom, though the sudden stream of sunlight flooding his sights did not allow him to appreciate the more homely outside just yet...
... and neither would he get to appreciate it after the momentary blindness had dissipated, for he had not emerged where he thought he should have.
He had realised in the Stead already that something on the outside had happened: for a long while at the end there, he hadn't heard from the villagers, though had assumed that he had strayed too far from the entrance to be able to hear their unrelated chatter any longer. Upon emerging, however, his attention to that particular detail was of no help for understanding the wider situation: indeed, the townsfolk were not there at all, but neither were their homes, the streets of their town, nor Haven itself.
Planted in its place were trees, and those trees were actually an entire forest, and there was not meant to be an entire forest in the middle of Haven, that much was evident.
Accustomed to it happening in nightmares, Darkrai swiftly acted to keep the door from slamming shut behind him out of its own volition, but it did not appear to want to do so, oddly enough, and that made him - ever so slightly – comfortable to veer his sights away from it, and to the rest of the building in order to verify another hunch...
This new suspicion of his was immediately proven more correct – or proven correct full stop – than the last: it was not Ursaring's Stead he had surfaced from, but rather a cabin... settled beneath the overshadowing canopy at the edge of a hollow, expertly assembled... was its roof a Chesto Berry blue? He was back there...
So, had he woken up at all that morning?
«And when we all came out to see what was going on, it started to rain,» the beginning to Ribombee's recounting seemed less awful. Compared to Arbok's nightmare, where raptorial talons had burst from the clouds to predate on the village, and Kricketune, who had dreamt of them all suffering an all too realistic and familiar fate – withering in their sleep - at least. «But the rain didn't stop, and it got more violent, and it continued on and on, until the darkness made the trees and the flowers and the grass die.»
«Ribombee, darling, don't tell me that you then went on to leave for the Blightwoods, no?» What Oricorio had added was what had come to be most loathed that morning: any sort of recurring themes in their nightmares. Their imaginations ran wild with theories.
«Indeed,» the fae reluctantly nodded. «The canopy there was thickest, it kept us dry, and we went on to live there... I think the time spent in the Blightwoods after, in the dream, was nice. It gives me the creeps to think about it when awake, though. Don't dare and say the same happened in yours!»
«Mine was drearily similar to that, sadly,» Oricorio showed no more enthusiasm for this narrative they were weaving. «It did not start out in the same fashion, but there was a flood, and the waters were filled with mud and bones and dead things that hadn't been stripped down to just bones quite yet.»
She had to give them all a moment, for their revulsion at the idea to fade, before she could carry on speaking.
«I know! I know! It was nauseating!» The bird continued. «We went up to the Blightwoods there, too, because its hills were higher up.»
«In mine, it wasn't water, it was fire,» Pumpkaboo chimed in with her own story impromptu, and the panicked whispering and muttering increased tenfold. «It was the fire place at the heart of the village that burst through the glass, and overtook every bit of Haven. We were forced to live underground, like Gourgeist do, because it was safe only down there.»
The back and forth continued as they sat there, in their little circle in front of Ursaring's Stead. Every once in a while, someone would throw it a glance. Arbok and Ariados had placed themselves between the rest and the building, Oricorio was stuck to the still weakened Kricketune, and Pumpkaboo and Ribombee enjoyed their ability to fly, hovering above the group, a safe distance from the ground. Every once in a while, someone would swear that they could hear a voice from inside it call to them.
But it was better that they all be there, together, with the rest able to intervene, if its call became more persuasive over time. Otherwise, Mothim was still absent, collecting files at the library. She could wander its way at any given time, and they wouldn't be able to keep her from it. Or maybe something would emerge from it, rather than someone be submerged into it. It felt wisest to stay put. They would immediately know when Gallade and Darkrai would return for it, as well.
«Lampent!» Their small group hadn't been silent, but Pumpkaboo's sudden exclamation was far more startling than what they didn't realise had become a wholly whispered conversation by that point. «A good morning! Join us, join us!»
«A good morning to you all as well!» The ghost responded, choosing to levitate a few inches off an overhang instead.
Within a split second, Arbok had slithered his way up a house' supporting column to face him down. «Where were you ssso far? I've been named responssssible for everyone here. I command you to explain yoursssself,» the serpent's hood spread in tandem with his concern-ridden menacing.
«Worry not, worry not for me,» Lampent shrugged it off. «I was with Leavanny and Gothitelle a short second ago. With those birds who were touched by the illness. A second opinion on what was with them was needed.»
«Didn't know ya' as an expert on dreamin' as well, Lampent my lad,» Kricketune's chortle quickly turned to coughing.
«I am not, though I intend to become it truly at some point,» finally, he descended to join them on the road. «I wasn't there to check whether they were asleep or not... or, well, they wanted to be certain whether they were asleep forever, one could say. And the answer there was no, they were still breathing, and their little souls were still attached to their little bodies.»
To their instantaneous concern, his attention then shifted towards the door.
«They both attested to something that interested me, thoughever,» Arbok had to pre-empt his movements, because Lampent would have already zoomed to infront of the Stead's door, had the serpent not imposed himself in the way first. «I simply must take a look at it! Just a gander through its windows, to see whether I can spot even the hint of something inside there.»
«Pisssss off.»
«Even if I don't see anything, another black void would be interesting to witne-!»
And his obstinance proved more resilient than the snake's patience, as Lampent was soon swung away by a simple motion of Arbok's tail.
«Bah! How do you expect us to know how to be safe when we can't even prod at it?»
«We know everything that we need to know for now,» the reptile retorted. «The housssse sssswallowed Ursaring and the trifecta who went to wake him up. It triesss to lure you in, and you're falling for it. You're ssssmarter than that.»
«Just a peek!»
«I won't reiterate my command!» Again, the hood extended.
«Would you mind maybe joining us after all, Lampent?» Pumpkaboo saw an opportunity to then extend her offer again. «We're sharing our nightmares to try and see how they fit. It's quite interesting. I think you'd enjoy hearing it.»
«Open your heart, darling,» Oricorio carried on. «Be honest with us, and tell us yours.»
«But you don't have to if you don't want it! It is kind of prohibited, actually.»
«Bah, pesky rules!» Kricketune scoffed. «Who have they done any good for? All a pile of silly conventions. We didn't even think to rewrite them once the Nightmare Weaver showed up.»
«This way is much better,» the bird interjected once more. «It's better for the soul than keeping those fears bottled up, just to be overtaken by the ones from the night after.»
«No, no, do not worry for me like that,» Lampent responded. «Truth be told, with that wound to the head Espurr inflicted me healed up, I've found these animated last weeks more enjoyable than the median. Mothim and I have been having our fun talking and theorising.»
«Good to know that at least someone's having fun,» Arbok derided.
Lampent, then, ignored his remark, and instead twirled in the air, setting his sights on the library. «Speaking of, she was sent to get some notes of use to the commander. I'll have to leave you all be and get going to help her ou-»
The Stead started to rumble, low and constant, beckoning their attention over the latest conversation.
«Uhh... what's with it?» Pumpkaboo asked, not without hovering up a comfortable distance above the building. Those others who could fly did the same, the rest just stepped back.
«Don't even think to approach it!» Arbok slid at the forefront, back between them and it. The building tremoring and creaking, probably on the verge of caving in on itself, seemed to have made dissipate its allure; none seemed interested in it at all anymore. «Alright. Now ssstep back from it a bit more,» it wasn't enough that they weren't jumping head first into the site, actually.
He needn't have asked, though, as a sudden intensification of the structure's shaking spread to the ground they were standing on. The earthquake drove the villagers to wail and exile themselves further down the road, with the serpent catching up quick, enveloping them in its protective coils.
After a moment of the shaking continuing, but with now new sound of crashing objects, he lifted the lid and undid his hold: behind them was left a scene of devastation, less terrible than what they had conjured in their minds before the dust had settled, but there was still a bench knocked over, two dozen pots with berry bushes reduced to a mess on the ground, and the old door of the Postal Office half unbolted and threatening to break off completely.
«What... what are we meant to do?» Oricorio smoothed out her ruffled feathers, before turning to tend to Kricketune.
«This is an earthquake, if we're fortunate,» Lampent commented.
«What do you-?» Baffled at first, Arbok nodded in agreement. «Indeed.»
«This would be a first for the area,» Kricketune intervened with elderly wisdom. «This is something else.»
«Okay, then, what do we do?» The bird reiterated.
«Bah, I told them that we should move!» Arbok gave it a moment of thought – the continued, increasingly unsteady and unharmonious rumbling of the Stead serving to make sure that he couldn't focus quite that much – and came to the realisation as to what had to be done. Uncoiling to rise above the group, he proclaimed: «No matter whether it'sss an earthquake or not, we can't be ssstanding around beneath buildingssss. I'm isssuing an evacuation order, we're moving to the meadow until we're called back.»
«That was already turned down, though,» Ribombee countered. «Not that I wouldn't rather be frolicking among the flowers than glancing over my shoulders, afraid of every alleyway...»
Arbok wasn't a fast thinker, and so another moment of silence set in.
«I reckon we ought to go ahead with it ourselves, frankly,» Lampent interjected, hovering around the group to gauge what the immediate reaction would be. «Much harder to deny us our request, when we're already on the outskirts.»
«Hmm... well,» Arbok stroked his chin with his tail. «The circumssstance changed,» the serpent's response to that was vague, though still managed to elicit further interest, so much so that many were already on their way. «Gallade probably didn't accept because Honchkrow botched the presentation. I will supervise the evacuation. One of usss who can fly ought to wait a comfortable height above the building, and alert the warden to what we are doing once he'sss back.»
«Well, I shall be the one to do that in passing, then,» Lampent volunteered with urgency. «Mothim's still oblivious to these worriments, and I need to go get her. We'll explain to Gallade on the way back,» his quickly delivered offer was followed by an equally quick agreement from Arbok's part, and so the plan was put into motion, with the bulk of the villagers picking their items, and departing for the meadow further down the road.