As usual, Darkrai rose early that night, ready to greet the evening with the sunset. He kicked his covers away and reached to stretch...only to recognize a familiar weight still pressed against his back as he shifted. ...Mallow? Then had he actually not slept that long? He felt well rested. Or had the little shadow just come back recently? Bewildered, he turned to get a better look, only for confusion to spike into alarm. Mallow was curled into a Musharna position behind him, eyes closed and breaths shallow—completely and utterly asleep.
In a blur of panicked movement that sent him flailing half-off of the bed, Darkrai instinctively scrabbled away from the other. Only for his racing thoughts to catch up into another frantic realization. If Mallow had been here all day, the damage was already done, and at this proximity—! No, no, this couldn't be happening!
"Mallow!" Jolting back up from the edge of the mattress, Darkrai grabbed for the younger pokémon's shoulder. He shook roughly, hand trembling. "Mallow, wake up! Please—!"
Two embers of eyes flashed open with a start, followed by a silent gasp. Surprise and relief collided roughly in Darkrai's chest at the sight, mixing with the wave of nausea in his gut. Then their gazes locked, and Mallow recoiled back into the mattress just as quickly as he had woken. Darkrai barely had a moment to recover before the child's arm twisted and flew, and a new sensation cracked into his forearm. Darkrai couldn't hold back a hiss as the shot of pain radiated up through his arm and into his shoulder. Yanking the wounded arm back, he promptly retreated to give the other space.
Well, that had gone splendidly. ...But given that Mallow was awake once more, he'd do it a thousand times over again if needed. As he cradled the arm to his chest, feeling for any hint of a broken bone, Mallow gradually caught his breath from across the bed. He blinked a couple of times over Darkrai's face before recognition finally emerged and his posture relaxed. Still, Darkrai didn't approach. His whole body felt leaden, and there was a tremor in his frame that he couldn't get a grip on.
"You scared me half to death, Mallow." His voice had not yet evened out, either, but he didn't care. Still, he couldn't bring himself to meet the other's eyes yet. "You aren't supposed to sleep this close to me. You know that!"
He wasn't sure whether or not Mallow signed anything in return. Regardless, the little one heaved himself into a crawl toward where Darkrai sat. Without a word, he reached out for Darkrai's injured arm; wincing lightly, Darkrai let him inspect it.
"I'm fine. It's sore, but no harm done," he promised.
He'd been fortunate this time; Mallow had still been groggy enough that not as much force had been behind this punch. And all that mattered was that his brother was awake again. He still couldn't look Mallow in the eye, but he could see the dejection in the younger one's slumped posture. Giving in to the urge in spite of his shame, he pulled Mallow close, ignoring the twinge of protest in his arm. It was his miscalculation that had been the most irresponsible; Mallow was still a child, and Darkrai should have known better than to let him linger, especially when he hadn't slept in a while. For the moment, though, he focused only on Mallow—on the warm, unusually tangible form clinging to his arm and chest.
"I'm just glad you're ok."
They sat there in silence for another minute before Mallow finally began to squirm. He tapped Darkrai's chest a few times, though more urgent than usual when he wanted his brother's attention. Curious, Darkrai let go and watched as signs unfolded rapidly from Mallow's hands. Midway through, his spine locked, voice dying in his throat. As Mallow finished, all of the signs Darkrai had ever learned vanished from his mind in an instant.
"I didn't have any nightmares. Just dreams."
Just...dreams? But how could that be? Frozen as he was, Darkrai didn't need to look out of the window, didn't need to try to find the moon beyond the clouds. He could feel the rush of power through his veins as clearly as his own heartbeat, amplifying as the night matured. The new moon was tonight. Even if it had been the day before, at the proximity he'd exposed himself to, Mallow ought to have been locked in tormented sleep—and yet not only had he woken completely unscathed, but he'd had no nightmares at all?
"I—What?" his voice croaked as it returned. Thankfully, Mallow didn't poke fun at the moment but continued what should have been nothing more than a conversation from Darkrai's wildest dreams—for that matter, was he actually awake?
"I slept well. I feel good."
It took another minute for Darkrai's mind to thaw at this revelation before his thoughts managed to pick back up. Then from standstill, they shifted into a race. Had his ability just stopped working for whatever reason? But that would make no sense! Abilities weren't lost—the only time they changed at all was if they were temporarily switched in a battle. There were also moves that could suppress abilities during battle, but they could not remove one altogether... Then perhaps it may be possible for someone to build immunity to an ability over time? After all, Mallow had been exposed to his company for a couple of years now, even if he hadn't ever slept here...
For a fraction of a second, the heaviness Darkrai always carried in his chest lifted, like a brick had been eased from his ribcage. A flicker of something like hope, sharp with longing, kindled there—until a flash of memory revisited him, shouting gasps of pleas that had dwindled into rattling breaths with time, and in a sudden horror, he smothered it, allowing the stifling weight to crash back into place. What a fool he was—daring to hope! No, there was no such thing that could be afforded to him. Not after the damage he had already caused and would invariably cause again if he let himself indulge in such a selfish desire.
"You flinched earlier when you saw me..." A fist clenching at the base of his collar, he turned his attention back to Mallow. The words ached in his heart as he forced them out with a tremor. "Is my appearance still frightening at first?"
Evidently, Mallow had not taken his eyes off of him this entire time. He just continued to watch Darkrai's face before dipping his head to Darkrai's hands instead. Darkrai knew better; no one had bothered to teach Mallow sign language until he himself had suggested learning it together. Mallow understood what he'd said whether he'd signed or not. Though he also had the impression he was being looked into deeper than he'd like. So before Mallow could avoid the question altogether, Darkrai followed up with the signs, shaky as they were. After a lingering moment of hesitation, Mallow confirmed it with the two dreaded knocks.
Closing his eyes, Darkrai worked to even out his breath and disappointment. Apparently even if his nightmare ability had malfunctioned somehow, the second was still in full-force; he still couldn't show his face to others. And as he remained a waking nightmare, logic dictated he would also remain so for those asleep.
Darkrai grit his teeth to stop the sting behind his eyes. He bit back the prayer on the edge of his lips and thoughts. He couldn't risk announcing his existence... Yet over and over, it seemed the Original One stepped in for him. Was that even possible? Or was this a fluke? ...Either way, if he wasn't careful, he may actually lose Mallow one day. What had happened this past day could never happen again.
"Well..." He cleared his throat, swallowed the emotions as well as he could. "I don't understand how yet, but I'm glad you were able to sleep well."
Keen to move on, he rose from the mattress, running his claws through his bed-head and tucking his hair away from his face. Mallow followed anxiously behind him as he took a moment to clean up at his dresser and wash basin. The little one's eyes were still wide with disquiet in the mirror's reflection. With a soft huff of a laugh, Darkrai turned to muss the wisp atop his head in effort to ease his nerves. It had been unfair of him to worry Mallow; this was his burden to carry, and Mallow had already carried so much himself.
"I had better get cooking," Darkrai signed to him, manifesting a smile as he moved through the motions. "Would you check on our guest for me in the meantime? See if she needs anything. If she doesn't answer, let her sleep."
Mallow's hesitant nod was all he needed to take his leave, and he took it as promptly as it came. "Wonderful. I'll have food ready in the next half hour," he reassured with an nuzzle of affection against the other's head. Then moving the blanket from the door and slipping from the room, he put as much distance between himself and his brother as he could for the time being.
It was the dull sound of knocking and the smell of food that woke Cresselia that evening. Though it was the latter that ultimately pulled her painstakingly from the groggy hands of sleep. She glanced blearily around at first, confused at the unfamiliar space she'd woken to, before her memory jogged alongside the sound of pelting rain.
Right. The storm and her injuries; Shade and the manor...
Where she lay in her sick bed, Cresselia let out a drawn out sigh until she flattened against it. Her wing was still carefully tucked to her side, bandaged, the bottles of medicine and salves on her bedside table waiting for application. She diverted her gaze as soon as she had singled them out, catching sight of a tray that had been left on the armchair instead. A welcoming aroma greeted her again, prompting her stomach to respond with a grumble.
...Fine. She would have breakfast, then. She would take some medicine for the ache in her wing. But then she'd be out of here soon after. She still had a job to do.
Heaving herself from the bed, she approached the armchair and tray with admitted curiosity. Evidently, Shade had made her a full breakfast: oatmeal with rawst, jam over toasted bread, and a nanab for protein. A new glass of water even sat on the adjourning side table. At which point it dawned on her that either Shade or Mallow had personally brought it into the room as she slept. Which was kind... It wasn't like Shade hadn't been there when she'd been wounded and unconscious, but her cheeks burned all the same at the thought.
Not caring to unpack that particular emotion, she pushed those thoughts aside and sat to eat what she could while it was still warm. At some point, the sound of a piano drifted into her room from beyond the door. It started softly at first, slow and gentle with occasional pauses. Gradually, the pace picked up, though it still carried the gentle emotion, rising and falling like blossom petals carried on the wind before coming to a rippling landing over still waters. For a minute, she was so concentrated on listening that she'd forgotten to eat altogether. Once she was finished, she hurried to make herself more presentable before once more grabbing her satchel and flask. She wondered if he would allow her to take some new provisions for the ones that had been ruined in the fall.
By the time she made her way into the hallway and down the stairs again, the music had changed. This song she didn't recognize. It was a deeper tone, slower. It was fractured as well, stopping after a time before starting over or pausing before continuing. Intrigued, she followed its call until she retraced her steps from yesterday, through the hall of paintings and into the room that led to the dining room and library to the right and left. This time, however, her destination was evidently ahead, past the other two rooms. As she approached the grand, arching door, the piano paused again, a voice traveling through in its place.
"I think I'd rather use B flat here." Shade's voice fell into a pensive hum. Said note rang briefly out in consideration. "Carries a bit more weight, I believe. What are your thoughts?"
The sole response to that question came in a sudden jingling of several high notes, followed by a wheeze of a laugh.
"Oh, you think I should add that, do you?" Shade asked, a snickering humor to his words. "Let's see." The tune started over once more, a string of minor chords and solemn tones in a low octave before a sharp detour into a gaudily high register. Then the music broke off again, drowned beneath breathless laughter. Of course, the pause didn't last long; the increasingly discordant notes picked manically back up while Shade only broke further down.
"You're right, you're right!" he finally breathed, and the piano finally tapered into silence. "This is a masterpiece. What shall we call it?"
Cresselia couldn't help but smile as she listened; she almost hated to interrupt. Her fingers further hesitated over the door handle as another thought came to mind—more specifically, the recollection of Shade's frantic and flustered dip into the shadows when she had entered the dining room unannounced. So with a sigh, she knocked a few times before pushing it open. She didn't like being kept in the dark, but this was his home. The least she could do was respect his wishes if he wanted to remain unseen for now, particularly after everything he'd done for her.
"Good evening, Celeste!" Shade greeted from ahead as she slid the door open and stepped into the new room—and what a room it was!
Just ahead of the entryway and at the base of a performance platform sat a grand piano, and beyond it a whole ballroom. Polished, checkered tile of violet and lavender hues stretched out before her, curving into a half circle of columned, indigo walls and arching patterned-glass windows, their rich plum curtains pulled aside to let in the night sky. Slices of reflected lightning flashed over the floors in electric dance. Finally, the grand centerpiece of it all hung majestic from the vaulted ceiling: a silver, multi-tiered chandelier of crystal and azure flame.
Cresselia stood frozen, enraptured by the dazzling sight, before the sound of a keyboard cover clunking into place reclaimed her attention. Behind the piano, Shade's form billowed into view along the floor. "Did you sleep w—?"
Unfortunately, he would never finish that question. Cresselia had scarcely taken another step into the room before another bolt of shadow interrupted them both—darting by Shade's form and shooting directly toward her. In the span of seconds, the inky rush of a spectral form sprang upon her, gripping her good wing with a fervent tug and jolting her heart into a stop as she tipped, talons slipping over the polished stone floor.
"Mallow!" Shade's voice took on an unexpected volume, sharp now with reprimand and mortification. Thankfully, Cresselia caught herself in time, just as the child that had risen to greet her paused. "Mind your manners! Allow our guest some space."
A little more slowly in consolation, Shade's shadow approached. With a disappointed huff of air, Mallow released his hold and backed up as requested before plopping down with a pout to sit.
"I apologize, Celeste. I can see that startled you quite a bit," Shade addressed her again once he reached Mallow. Wispy hands like smoke rose through shadow sneak to pluck the child up with a tsk. "Don't sulk," he told the younger pokémon, propping him back into a stand. Then he allowed the more familiar shadow of his form to elongate over the floor in the absence of a suitable background.
"Oh, um..." It wasn't often that Cresselia found herself stuttering. She blamed the adrenaline—she had almost fallen to the floor, after all. (How embarrassing). Still, she turned her gaze away from Shade's direction to Mallow's instead. "It's all right," she insisted, bending down to flash him a reassuring smile. "I find the enthusiasm refreshing."
That was enough to perk the little ghost up again. An eager grin cracking back into place, he reached out in fervent sign. Fingers flew in quick succession as he pointed to her before bringing one of his hands up to his mouth; then lowering and extending it out, he brought his other hand to lie against that forearm. Cresselia paused, unsure of how to respond at first; in spite of the many people she had helped over the years, she lived an otherwise solitary life on her island. She had never learned to sign...
"He wants to know if you found the breakfast he brought to your room."
She let the breath she'd been holding go with relieved gratitude—for more reasons than one at that revelation. "Oh, so you brought that to my room?" she asked, briefly nodding her thanks in Shade's direction. Mallow clasped his hands to his chest in a sudden show of shyness before dipping his head. "Well, I certainly did, and it was delicious. Thank you for doing that for me! That was a lot to carry."
Giggling now, Mallow returned a few more signs, at one point pumping both fists in front of himself.
"It was easy; he's a fighting type and is very strong. And you're welcome," Shade translated once more for her. Then his shadow appeared to shift its focus from Mallow to her. "By the way, how are you feeling this morning? Is there anything else you may need that I can provide?"
"I'm feeling much better today, thank you. The medicine did help quite significantly." Cresselia shifted her good wing back into place, adjusting her satchel over it as she rose back to full height. It was good that they were moving along now; she needed to get back to traveling sooner rather than later. There would be no opportunity to heal tonight, but by the time she arrived in Mountain Crag she would be able to rest and then hopefully heal as soon as tomorrow night fell.
At her words, the posture of Shade's shadow visibly perked up. The flaring wisps over his shoulders and what appeared to be his hair flickered into a slightly faster pace. "I'm pleased to hear that! I'll make more for you later today; I imagine you're running low. In the meantime, were you able to discern the layout of the house? If you'd like, I could give you a more official tour."
"There is no need for that." She shook her head, letting her fingers fall over the strap of her bag. "I would appreciate it if you would just open the front door and direct me north. I was also hoping I could ask you for some extra food and berries for my trip if it isn't too much trouble."
This time, it was as if the moment had crystalized, frozen in time as those words sank in. His entire frame had become stock still; even the wisps had abruptly slowed as if in shock before evening out. She wished she could see his facial expressions; the sudden silence was unnerving.
"Oh." His voice finally broke the spell before picking back up with a new, almost nervous speed. "Certainly, I'd be happy to provide you with those." Then the plume of hair twirled promptly back to his sibling's side. "Mallow, would you please head to the library while I help Celeste? I want you to get started on your runes. Try to get to page 15, and I'll be with you shortly."
In lieu of a groan, the child made a hissing sound of air in a frustrated sigh. He plopped back down into his previous seat with crossed arms—only for Shade to once more correct him with shadow sneak.
"Hey, now. Didn't you just tell me the other day that you wanted to read The Very Hungry Caterpie yourself next time?" The ghastly hand nudged him toward the door. "Don't worry. You'll get to say goodbye before she leaves. Now go on."
Though with one final huff, the child trudged toward the door, as if hoping Shade might change his mind before he made it. Only once he'd reached the door did the ghost vanish into the floor to slip beneath. Slightly on edge now, Cresselia shifted her attention to Shade, whose form had risen against the propped top of the piano.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. There should have been no need to send Mallow away for her request. She fought to keep her posture from becoming too visibly stiff at this development.
"Nothing is wrong." In spite of his words, of course, his tone had dipped into a more solemn gravity. "I gave you my word that I would not keep you if you didn't wish it. I will fulfill your request if you insist. However, I implore you to reconsider."
Before she had a chance to speak in reply, he fell back to the ground with a short, 'pardon me,' as he skirted past her and around the piano. Then he bolted to the other end of the room, shadow lengthening against the curtains of a window.
"These windows all face north. We are dead in the middle of the typhoon season, and as you can see..." Shadowed hands pulled the curtain further back to pelting rain. A strike of light flashed against the sky as if on cue; thunder rumbled distantly above. "Even if you could still fly, it would not be wise, and the storm will make the forest just as treacherous to pass through on foot—not to mention the mystery dungeon between us and the mountains."
Cresselia let out a sigh, the tension in her muscles melting away. As much as he tried to conceal it, she could pick out the chord of desperation in his voice. A tremor of anxiety, of fear. He was worried for her. As usual, something in her gut seethed at this—this assumption she was weak or would succumb to the elements so easily—but it wasn't as potent this time. Yes, people were always generally sincere when they worried over her, but something felt deeper here. More personal... Perhaps because he had tended to her with such meticulous care already.
Shifting her wing again to smooth out her feathers and shake her thoughts, she made her way toward the window to join him. "I appreciate your concern, Shade, but I am stronger than I appear," she said once she stood before him again. She glanced past the glass into the forest, its tree tops swaying beneath the wind and downpour. It did look a little rough, but... "Rain will do little to deter me."
"Please allow me to remind you that I have sent for another healer to tend to the city in your absence." Shade's voice was little above a whisper this time. Apologetic for pushing, but pleading nonetheless. "I assure you, she will not fail in that effort. Right now, you have no duty to anyone but yourself—to rest and heal."
"I genuinely thank you for everything you've done for me, but I do insist." She tried to focus on where she imagined his eyes may be should he be standing in the flesh. His voice came from that direction, at any rate. "Please show me to the door."
His form deflated against the curtain in time with a defeated breath. "Very well." He settled back into the floor and started toward the doorway she'd entered. "Follow me, and I'll unlock them."
They traveled in a more somber silence from there. As they passed through the sitting room just outside, she noticed the bright flame of one of the child's eyes peeking out from behind the library door. It vanished as soon as she noticed, presumably before Shade could catch him off task. Her heart fell a little at the sight. Perhaps she could visit them on her way back once the epidemic had been dealt with, if only to reassure and thank them properly. She could bring a gift, perhaps some chocolate for the little one in particular.
Finally, they had reached the main entrance. From the pool of Shade's shadow, another hand raised with a golden key to open one of the doors. Then he held it open for her.
"As per your request, please wait here and I will gather supplies and medicine for your trip," he said before retreating back toward the hall at the other end of the grand staircase. His voice called back as if over his shoulder. "I will also guide you through the forest to the mountain path. I just need to fix Mallow lunch for later and let him know. I won't be long."
Wait, he would do what? From where she had stood looking out into the storm, Cresselia twirled back around at those words, but Shade had already hurried off before she could reject the offer. There was no trace of his presence anywhere over the burnt burgundy carpet. So simply shaking her head, she stepped out onto the portico to wait.
Compared to the soft hum from the inside of the home, the storm was deafening now. Rain hammered down as a veritable curtain before her, and the trees groaned under the tugging winds. Leaves deserting them and branches rattling, they locked together as if holding on to one another. Cresselia paused at the sight. From the inside, behind the safety of the ballroom window, the trek had seemed manageable. Now that she was at the tempest's cusp, however, Cresselia shrank instinctively back.
There was no way she could make it through these winds completely safely...was there?
So selfish...
She forced her feet forward, drawing to the edge of the portico's overhang. She eyed the rivulets of water overflowing from the gutters before her. A few more steps, and the rain would soak her through in moments, and then her feathers would be heavy and cold...
Coward. People are relying on you!
Before that voice could berate her any further, however, a bullet of shadow darted out from under her, leaping up before her and taking shape. With a yelp, she stumbled back, barely catching herself from releasing a psystrike when she realized what, or rather who, it was.
With chubby arms spread and a blue stretch of fabric rippling from his shoulders, Mallow had jumped forward and into the stream. It parted with a cold spray, causing her to flinch as it splashed onto her face and into her feathers. Beyond the downpour now, the little shadow hit the ground running. Mud squelched beneath his feet as he skidded about beneath the rain, frolicking. The blanket he'd tied around his neck like a cape dragged along the ground as he went.
Still trying to catch her breath, Cresselia gaped at the little one before craning her neck back. "Shade?"
No answer.
It was up to her then... Turning back, she called out to the child. "You shouldn't be out here!" she scolded him, though she couldn't keep the frazzled nerve out of her voice. "It's dangerous! This isn't a rain shower you can just play in!"
The child stopped at her call, surprisingly. She hadn't expected it to be so easy. Then he tapped his chin before gesturing his palm out to her, head tilted in question. Meanwhile, he continued to let the rain soak in, the blanket drenched and soiled behind him.
"Come back out of the rain! You're going to worry your brother to death."
Mallow's face scrunched into a silent laugh. Whipping his makeshift cape behind him, he burst back toward the portico; Cresselia scrambled back as mud flung across the stone beneath his feet, smearing under the blanket as he went. And then just like that, he disappeared back indoors...
Oh. Oh, no.
"Wait, I didn't mean—!"
Too late.
"Wha—?!" Shade's voice cried out in utter confusion from beyond the doors, shifting rapidly into alarm. "Mallow, wait! Stop!" The sound of something heavy clunked over the floor. "No, no, look at what you're tracking over the carpet! Come here!"
She peered in just in time to get a glimpse of the chaos. A backpack of supplies as well as a rain poncho had been abandoned halfway from the hall to the door—and toward the center of the entrance way, Mallow now hovered several feet in the air, struggling to break free from a more solid form of shadow sneak this time. Evidently, Shade had deemed the big guns necessary for this occasion—an entire body of twisting shadows had been summoned this time, not unlike his typical silhouette.
For a moment, the sight caught her slightly off guard, thinking she had caught him in a rare show of his true form before catching sight of the smoke-like nature of the body. Although, she wondered, was this still what his form looked like without the shadows? It hovered at about her height, though the chest itself was broad, waist slender and flaring out into a mantle and tail. What caught her attention in particular, however, was the size of the arms and claws. All other finer details were hazy, but those were rather blatant. His palms alone must be about the size of her head.
"All right, that's it," he huffed. "To the tub with you." Of course that was when he turned and caught her glance from the doorway—and his voice actually cracked with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Celeste! I'll be right back." And then in short order, both the shadow projection and Mallow vanished into the floor, zipping with a new haste to the closest door to his left: the washroom and restroom of the home.
Feeling vaguely sheepish herself now, Cresselia stepped back inside, closing the door gently behind her and letting the sound of the storm fade with it. There were quite a few muddy footprints and smears across the floor, along with swathes of wet patches from the blanket. Wondering if she should apologize for not stopping the child, she gradually approached the restroom door, wondering what she might say when Shade emerged again. Thankfully a loveseat sat adjacent to it, so she took a seat to wait. Not too surprisingly, she could hear him speaking on the other side, though it was more hushed.
"What were you doing?" he grumbled softly amidst a splash of water. "You know you shouldn't be out in that weather!" There was a lengthy pause then, broken only by the scrubbing of a sponge, where she imagined Mallow must be signing. "...I see. Still, that doesn't excuse it. Other foot now." Another pause ensued, followed by another splash, like Shade was dousing the other with a pail. "...No, you're going straight back to the library after saying goodbye, and you're going to stay indoors the rest of the night. I've had enough heart attacks over you for one day, haven't I? Now here, dry off."
Where she sat listening, Cresselia let her eyes fall shut in deliberation. She could already tell Shade would likely not take no for an answer in accompanying her through the forest and dungeon. He'd be leaving his brother unattended for some hours. Furthermore, if he was hurt somehow, she'd have no way to help him, and Mallow obviously depended on him. Potentially worse was the possibility of Mallow disobeying and following after them into the storm. She would not be able to forgive herself if any were to occur. And finally...as much as she was loathe to admit it, the weather may be a bit beyond her ability currently. She would be no good to anyone incapacitated.
"Watch the mud. I'll clean it later." The restroom door easing back open brought her musings to a close. A freshly cleaned Mallow stepped back out, followed by Shade's shadow, which turned back to the abandoned backpack and poncho. Ethereal claws gripped it, and it began to submerge into the floor again.
"Excuse me, Shade." She stood from her seat; the bag shuddered back into reality with the trace of a flinch from the wraithlike hands. ...Had she just startled him again?
"Oh, I'm sorry!" he breathed then. "I didn't see you there; I thought you were outside. Are you ready to go then? I packed food, seeds, medicine, and water." The bag downright jerked into the shadows this time. Then the poncho lifted from the floor as he approached and held it up to her with one extended arm. "I believe this should fit, in a way. Though even if it doesn't, it's better than nothing."
She reached out, brushing the shadowy hand where it hid beneath the fabric with her own fingers briefly as she moved to take it. There was little sensation to it. While it wasn't cold, neither was it warm, and it was barely tangible, phasing a little under her touch. These were not his true arms or hands, just figments, mere representations. She was mildly disappointed in the discovery.
She held the jacket up for a moment as if to inspect before letting her wing fall. "You said you sent a healer to Mountain Crag."
"I did."
"And you are certain she is there and that she has the capability to heal that many with sufficient skill?"
"I am. I have seen her work first hand, and there is no doubt in my mind."
Cresselia let the air hold its breath for a moment before offering the poncho back. "Then I shall stay until the storm clears. I am trusting you to be truthful; there will be consequences if you have lied to me."
Shade seemed too stunned to respond at first—whether from her decision, threat, or both, she was unsure. From the side, where Mallow had plopped down to watch the exchange, a breath of excited air pitched. Finally, Shade reached back out to reclaim the poncho. "I understand." There was a profound sense of relief and warmth to his words in spite of her own. "Please let the matter from your mind and make yourself at home."
"If you would like, I can take Mallow back to the library until you can join him," she offered as he bundled the fabric up.
"That would be incredibly helpful. Thank you!"
By now, the child in question was already back to his feet, hopping in place with barely contained excitement. It didn't take long for him to skitter over, though a little more subdued this time as he reached a hand out for her wing. She obliged him, allowing him to grip her fingers. Still a pretty firm grip and too much of a tug, but he had at least learned to respectfully gain a permission first, she supposed. Just as he began to lead her away—as she reminded him to avoid the mud for his brother's sanity—Shade called out one final instruction before he himself retreated to the kitchen.
"Mallow, pick out a few books to practice your runes with. I'll start a fire for you both when I return."
Thus she soon found herself tugged urgently into the library—again, through a delicately carved, arched mahogany doorway. And had Mallow not continued to escort her along with his usual enthusiasm, the sight would have stopped her in her tracks as soon as they had breached it. While the ballroom had been breathtaking and remained her favorite room so far, she could see that to Shade and Mallow, this room must be the most beloved.
Shelves had been built into three of the walls, extending all the way to the ceiling; rolling ladders scaled up the shelf sides; a table in the middle of the three walls already had numerous books and charts open, along with a globe, an hourglass, and a few other instruments she didn't recognize, such as a glass tower containing water and numerous glass balls nestled inside, each at a different height; windows like those in the ball room broke up some of the shelves along the opposite wall, each with window seats; and toward the end of the room, cozy looking armchairs and a couch huddled around a coffee table and fireplace. In contrast to the usual cool color scheme of the home, this room was also a bit warmer. These walls were more the color of Roseli wine: a deep, calming, and welcoming red.
She didn't have much of a chance to inspect anything closely yet, though. Mallow had pulled her to a section of one of the bookshelves, only letting go of her wing now that he had books to choose from. He pulled one eagerly out to show off: The Little Primarina. After she had gotten a look at the cover, he flipped its pages open to show her a wood block illustration of the character singing atop a rock in the sea, the waves crashing into the air behind her.
"Oh, that's lovely! I haven't read it, but it looks like a good story. Maybe you could tell me what it's about later?" She took a moment to point to the runes beneath the image. "You're learning to read and write, yes? Let's see if we can find three for now that you want to read."
With a quick nod, Mallow pulled two more out, holding them up to her for approval. The Tales of Brer Bunnelby and The Three Little Spoinks.
"Perfect. Shall we go sit?"
In apparent agreement, Mallow dashed to the couch at the other end of the room. She followed a little more leisurely behind, trying to catch some of the titles of the more advanced books. Medicinal tomes, astronomy texts, philosophy, history, music, painting... Surprisingly, she hadn't noticed much fiction by the time she reached the couch. Maybe she had looked in the wrong section. Meanwhile, Mallow had already begun flipping through pages, a rune practice booklet and pen that must have been left there from a previous lesson at his side. She took a seat nearby and glanced over one of Mallow's selections briefly before a knock came at the door. Beyond that, Shade entered without a word, the blotch of shadow over the floor approaching them on the couch before a hand reached up from the void to the coffee table, depositing two glasses of water and a plate of apple wedges.
"Good selections," he murmured to Mallow. "Feeling ambitious today, I see. I look forward to seeing your completed worksheet." Then his voice carried over to her more directly as he pushed one of the glasses closer to her. "Did you find something for yourself, Celeste? Is there anything I can help you find?"
"Anything fictional is fine if you have a suggestion. Perhaps a favorite?"
"Ah. I actually don't read a lot of fiction..." he trailed. "I do have some, of course! One moment." He disappeared for a minute or two before reappearing with a few books, one of which that she thought looked familiar from just above the children's shelf. He placed them over the table for her to see. The Miserable Ones, The Book Thief, Guards! Guards!, and The Miraculous Journey of Buneary Tulane.
"This one here was originally written in the language spoken on the Water Continent," he said as he pointed to the first. "I haven't read it yet, but I've heard it's a social analysis and had stellar reception. I believe someone even adapted it into a musical." Then he shifting gears, gesturing to the second book. "This one takes place during a war, and while sad it's also quite a profound take on the pokémon condition. This one is a witty fantasy comedy, and then this last one is a rather touching children's novel on the value of love. I read it to Mallow every now and then."
From the corner of her eye, Cresselia noted how Mallow's head perked up at that last bit. An expression of pure delight lit his face once he noted which title Shade had mentioned. "I'll take The Miraculous Journey, then," she concluded, swiping it under her good wing and setting it aside over the neighboring cushion for later. Then before he could busy himself with placing the other books back on their shelves, she stood to grab his attention, hoping she could persuade him into a more private conversation. "If you don't mind me changing the subject, I would like to ask some questions."
"Of course! What are they about?" The stack of books he'd collected came back to a sit over table as he gave her his full attention.
"To begin with, if I'm going to stay here, I would like to know more clearly the person with whom I'm staying."
"I see. Walk with me then?" Without waiting for an answer, Shade retreated to the fireplace across from the seating. Once she had joined him a bit further from where Mallow sat, he spoke a bit more candidly. "I understand your concern. You're injured, in a strange place, and with a host you can't see. Is that correct?" As he spoke, the ghostly arms he commanded reached for the logs at the hearth's side, taking care to prop them over each other just so.
"It is."
He hummed in response—a regretful, weary sound from deep in his chest. "I had figured. I'm sorry you feel discomfited by it. However, I have my reasons for not being able to completely show myself. If at all possible, I would prefer my character be judged based upon my actions rather than any appearance I could possibly give."
A flare of anger rushed through her at those words. She subdued it, but a bit of bite still entered her voice. "Do you believe me so shallow as to judge a pokémon based on their appearance?"
If shadows could visibly stiffen, this one most certainly did. The shapes of his shoulders drew together, and the wisp of his hair shook back and forth with his head in his haste to backpedal. Even the false arm stiffened where it had been stuffing of kindling beneath the logs. "Not at all! I apologize it came off that way. Still, I have...much anxiety over the matter, not unlike that of a common Mimikyu. I pray you can forgive me for it."
She wasn't sure what else to say to that; the palpable tension between them had just mounted ten-fold upon the topic, though neither of them were going to change their positions on the matter. So she simply exhaled in resigned acceptance, disappointed as she was. "It's all right. Perhaps I was too forward myself."
There was no denying that she would feel more comfortable being able to see her host in spite of the many kind things he had done for her. The fact that he kept himself hidden from her view was unnerving. However, his actions did speak of a good person—he had come to her aid in an hour of need and brought her into his own home to tend to her admittedly grievous injuries. He'd fed her and offered her a place to stay with no expectation of recompense. And if Mallow as the happy and healthy child he was wasn't evidence enough, she wasn't sure what else could be more compelling. She would simply have to trust him for now.
...And as conflicted as she felt on the matter, a more selfish side of her did want to stay here if only for a little longer. She wanted to learn more about this mystery pokémon who had gone out of his way not only to treat her, but to also welcome her as a guest. Of course, she'd traveled to many towns and cities during her ministrations to others in which she'd been received with gracious thanks. However, such occasions were always in the event that she was needed. She was universally praised, and yet she'd never truly connected to another on a more intimate, personal level—with someone who had inherently welcomed and served her without any contingent service or prior debt. And now here she was in someone's living room, a complete stranger, being offered the comfort of a fire, book suggestions, and apple slices.
"Avert your eyes, if you'd like."
His voice snapped her out of her thoughts as a single palm briefly exited his shadow, and this time it wasn't one of shadow. It was solid, smooth, and pitch-black with lethally sharp claws, just like the projections she had seen earlier in the entrance way. Then a flash of blue flame flickered over it before he cast it with a flick of his claws into the hearth. Will-o-wisp... It did leave spots in her vision, but she hadn't been able to tear her attention away nonetheless. Was this a slight apologetic concession? A test of her reaction? Or just simple coincidence that he'd needed his true hand for that task?
Well. It wouldn't do to linger over it. What would be would simply be, and she would just need to respect his choice over the matter.
"There's one other thing I've been wondering about," she switched the conversation without further comment. Better to move along to more important things. Namely, what she was going to do next. If she was going to stay here for a length of time, she ought to still make herself useful somehow. She had failed miserably in her effort to assist Mountain Crag, but perhaps she could at least look into the issues here in Howling Forest to make up for it. "There are rumors circulating about this forest as of late. Have you heard much about them?"
"Rumors?" The shadowy arm was back, poking at the logs and kindling as the blue flame grew, extending onto a more homey orange.
"Accounts of hallucinations, night terrors, illness, and even monsters lurking within. You say news does not travel to you quickly, but given that you live within the forest, you must have come to some knowledge of it. Can you at least shed some light on that for me?"
"Ah, those." Shade's earlier inquisitive tone fell flat once more into a more solemn sigh. The arm plucked at one more flaming brand before retreating. That done, his form turned to one of the armchairs closest to the hearth and, much like he had sat over the dining chair yesterday, appeared to lean back into it somehow, even just as a shadow. It was as if the realm of shadow was somehow wholly material to him. The image of his claws gestured back to the couch in invitation for her to sit again.
"Yes, I know of the nightmares," he continued as she accepted. Along her side, Mallow's head perked up again from his studies, listening rather intently. Cresselia glanced over at the movement, but Mallow's expression was surprisingly blank even in its intensity. "They've been innate to this forest as long as I've been aware, and I've been here a while. As for the illnesses, they tend to take hold when travelers either get lost in the dungeon or spend too many nights within it—perhaps a peculiarity of the dungeon...? Or perhaps even a species of native flora induces the symptoms, be it through spores or pollen. I'm not sure," he mused before breaking off, as if lost in thought. "But yes, you may have nightmares during your stay here in Howling Forest. I deeply apologize for the inconvenience that may cause you."
Cresselia only cocked her head at those explanations. The way Kangaskhan had put it, the issue seemed relatively new, unexpected, and even dire. On the other hand, Shade seemed to indicate they were more constant, characteristic, and natural. Yet neither had been her experience. Thus, there was no truly reliable information to go off of, particularly since she had only heard of the issue second-hand from Kangaskhan. "Odd," she remarked, glancing into the fireplace to watch the flames dance as she thought. "I haven't had any nightmares as of yet myself."
Surprisingly, Shade only gave a short, dry chuckle at the remark. When she turned him a confused gaze, however, he paused. The following silence was incredulous, then shifted into a dubious, "You haven't?" His shadow leaned forward, his own head appearing to tip as he analyzed her.
"No." Had he thought she was joking? "Do you experience them regularly?"
"I do, and Mallow occasionally does, but he's also an insomniac. He doesn't need to sleep often."
"Hmm." She brought her good wing to her mouth, turning her attention back to the smoldering logs. "Are the woods home to many ghosts?"
"Believe it or not, I don't see them often. They are around, of course, but they tend to mind their business to my knowledge," he said as he rose from his seat to finally retrieve the books she'd rejected. Still gathered in a neat stack, they floated off and around the couch back to the shelves along the farthest wall as he continued. "It's possible some may occasionally use hypnosis, nightmare, or dream eater on travelers, but I don't know of such matters and have no place to accuse them."
"Then no one has ever come by with complaints or injuries reminiscent of ghost attacks?"
"Well, from the mystery dungeon, of course! But the dungeon is a completely different world; ferals attack regardless of type in any dungeon. Regardless, I want to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about here." Once each book had been properly shelved into its place, Shade's form came to sit over the arm and backrest on Mallow's side of the couch. If only for a few moments, his true hand reached out to smooth the top of the child's head. "The only ghost around this home is Mallow, and while he is a menace to my carpets, he is perfectly harmless," he stressed, teasing the little one's wisp until Mallow swatted irritably in return. A genuine laugh, deep and affectionate, escaped as Shade relented. Then he melted down from the couch and over the floor again to approach the nearest window instead.
"Now, what do you think of pulling the curtains away from the windows tonight?" he asked from afar. His full silhouette rose over the curtains and opened the first experimentally before turning to face her. "I find the sound of rain against them rather soothing. Also, do you like tea by chance?"
Across from her on the couch, Mallow dropped his pen, both hands flinging out from each other into a sign she could only imagine must mean Open!
"I agree with Mallow." She could feel a smile working into her mouth. Shifting her legs beneath her, she settled into a move comfortable position for the evening and reached out to grab The Miraculous Journey of Buneary Tulane. "And if you have any, I rather like chai."
By the time late morning came around, Darkrai was exhausted. Though it was a good kind of weary, he thought as he placed the dishes that had finished drying back into their cabinets. He hadn't had company in a while, and though many visits ended up turning sour in the end, he hadn't lost his desire to connect quite yet. With every visitor came a small taste of the world outside as well as a more clear sense of purpose and fulfillment as he aided whoever he was able.
Still, he considered as he wiped down the kitchen counters, Celeste seemed a little different. She wasn't the average lost traveler or injured passerby. She was a healer, as she'd told him, but there was something more beneath the surface—something that may even be dangerous. Even just during the short time he'd known her, something was always plaguing her mind, whether it be Mountain Crag or the forest, and he could tell she was restless in spite of her effort to rest. Not to mention the sense of authority she both carried and exerted in her words and actions—it left him feeling a little uneasy as a suspicion crept in over her true identity.
As he eventually made his way to his room and ascended the stairs to the second floor, he glanced over to the east wing. Celeste had retired about an hour ago for the day. From what he could tell, she seemed to be asleep. He hadn't heard anything from that area of the home, and there was no hint of light from beneath her door. Feeling a little more reassured at that, he retreated to his own room in the opposite wing. Then once he was sure he was as alone as he could be for now, he rose at last from his shadow and stuffed the gap at the bottom of his door.
With a huff, he let the tension of the day fall from his frame; head in his hands, he took steadying breaths. Reluctantly then, he turned to approach his dresser where it sat at the other end of his bed. Grabbing a chair from the wall, he glancing into the mirror's surface with a grimace as he took a seat. He hated the glass on a deeply personal level, though it was no true fault of the mirror. He abhorred how his appearance transformed each time he looked into it—like now—how his eyes sharpened into feral slits, red and bloodshot; how his teeth extended into fangs that hung down over his lips; how his hair became disheveled and stood on end; how the spikes of his collar sharpened into monstrous thorns; how his claws became hooked and grotesque.
As he watched his body twist into this abomination, a surge of overwhelming fright shoved against of his perception of reality, along with a spike of adrenaline he could never suppress. For several, torturous moments, he rode it out. Then, after numerous deep breaths, it began to fade, like mist under the morning sun, transitioning seamlessly back into the more docile features he knew to be his own. With that ordeal over, he extended his palm to the surface, allowing some of his power to ripple over the glass.
"Father..." He withdrew his hand then, letting it fall to his lap. "I'd like to speak with you. Are you there?"
At first, nothing but silence deigned to answer, and he let his gaze flick down to the dresser's top to wait. Then a flicker of motion caught his peripheral, like a shadow behind the glass. The pane appeared to fog before clearing, opening up into the land of his birth: an ever expanding horizon of deep indigo blanketed in violet haze, floating islands broken and scattered like pieces from one of Mallow's puzzles. A darkened, serpentine silhouette rose before him, ribbed with glowing crimson and crowned with golden jaws. Two blazing scarlet eyes locking onto his own. They narrowed with savage hostility for several beats, blood tipped tendrils flexing with malice, before relaxing as recognition discarded the illusion clouding his son's appearance.
"I assume you come for news of Mountain Crag?" An abysmal, chilling voice like grating stone answered at last.
Darkrai dipped his head with respect. "If it is possible, I would be grateful. I know it is not necessary, but my guest is restless and I want to reassure her with details."
Giratina hummed beyond the veil, the mandibles framing his neck flexing in thought as he studied his son's countenance. "She arrived last night, as discussed. The illness was a pervasive respiratory illness, but all the same, healing those who remained was a simple task. She has returned home, and both Mountain Crag and Lake Town are at peace—save for those who mourn the prior passings."
Of course, Darkrai had already known the answer. He wouldn't have expected anything else, and it was insulting to have even asked. Still, he let a breath of relief go. He would have verified good news for Celeste tomorrow that he could share without guilt. "I'm glad to hear it. Thank you for indulging me."
Across the barrier, Giratina leaned in with a shrewd understanding. As Darkrai had come to know well, however, understanding did not typically accompany approval from the dragon. No, this gaze only made him feel bare and vulnerable, as if his father had spotted something in him that he intended to ruthlessly cut out. Apparently this was indeed one of those times, judging by the dip of his golden brow. Giratina's voice sharpened. "Darkrai."
"Yes, father?"
"I inquired about this guest based on your description." Giratina scrutinizing his son's reaction as he spoke. Darkrai's stomach seized, icing over with the knowledge that his worst fears were all but verbally confirmed. "I understand you are concerned about her; you inherited your mother's compassion, often to your own detriment. More than any other guest, however, you should send this one away as soon as reasonable."
"Then she is...?"
"A child of Arceus by the name of Cresselia." A low rumble of a growl reverberated over the name of the Original One. "You would be wise to keep your distance."
Just as swiftly as his insides had frozen, they now ran molten, coals of bitterness searing in his gut at the revelation. Darkrai let his gaze fall to the dresser, fighting back the sting in his eyes that he didn't care for his father to see. His heart ached as if openly bleeding into his chest—and for what? How ridiculous it was to have brought himself emotionally to this point to begin with. Whether Celeste was of Arceus or not, the desire to kindle a friendship with her had never mattered when she would leave in mere days anyhow—and just like all of the others, he would never see her again. Or, even on the odd chance that he did, he would never be able to reveal himself to her. He would never truly connect with her or anyone else, for that matter.
"Is there anything more I should know?" he asked, swallowing the lump that had formed before daring to speak again. He found his claws had gripped into the wooden base of the mirror, leaving gouged tracks in their wake. Ashamed, he rose to sit properly back in his seat and returned his focus to the mirror.
"In addition to healing by moonlight, she has the ability to create and enter dreams." The tendrils at the serpent's back curled with agitation. "Her abilities strengthen as the moon waxes and peak when it is full. You must guard your mind well over the next few days."
"I understand." Darkrai dipped his head once more in acknowledgement, pulling his hands back to his lap in deference. "Thank you for the warning. I will be vigilant."
Barbed tail flicking back and forth in thought beyond the veil, Giratina regarded his son in knowing silence before parting with one final instruction. "Come to me again if you believe you need another distortion. You know what to do if things turn more dire before then."
Then the glass frosted back over before clearing into its naturally reflective surface. As his father's face faded, Darkrai's own eased back into place—his true face. A face that, no matter how much he wished otherwise, Celeste would never see beyond the monstrous mask his body created for him. No one but Mallow ever had or likely ever would. It was foolish and pointless of him to believe otherwise. Though even if he could, daughter of Arceus that she was, such folly would put not only him in harm's way, but entire his family as well. And that was simply not acceptable.
With those final, wretched thoughts, Darkrai laid his head down over his arms and listened to the rain as it continued to pour overhead, hoping to drown out all the others.
Beneath the storm-ridden silence and cover of dreary day, she crept along the perimeter, searching for entrance. The rough siding of the home was simple to scale, the garden of vines and topiaries concealing her ascent until at last—a gap. She was in.
Notes:
For those of you who follow my other works, I promise I am working on Guide! It's taking me a while because I recently moved, got a new job, and have been struggling with block, but I'm hoping to get through it more soon. I have the next chapter all planned out now at least. M&N will need a bit longer. I'll probably pick it up again alongside this fic once Guide has updated. No promises on how soon, but I am trying!
UUFFFF so much set-up in this chapter. I think I died three times over and had to be resuscitated. I hope it came out well enough.
Now, for those of you who haven't checked out my tumblr yet, I want to mention it again because in addition to my sketches, I've started a new kind of post there called "Ghost Gags"! As mentioned before, Ghostovni (sometimes Ghostbreadovni) is my beta, and she often jokes with me as we plan and brainstorm through meme. If you want in on our little jokes behind the scenes, head over and check them out! I will continue to post them as the stories we work on together progress. (She will now also be beta-ing for Guide! Please give her some love if you leave a comment either here or on a Ghost Gag, as she has seriously helped make writing much more enticing and fun for me recently.)
I also made a post recently with a layout of the house if you're interested! I had to tweak it from the original pokepark designs.
Also, if you're wondering what the first song Darkrai was playing, it was "River Flows in You" by Yiruma.