40.

In Keeping With This PlɅce

"Wake up!"

"Won't you just wake up?"

"Are you alive!?"

Cyllene doesn't want to be awake, and she definitely doesn't want to be alive. Turning back into a Wurmple would be a good compromise, but then why wasn't she just born a Wurmple in the first place? It would save her all the trouble of squishing her organs down and convincing herself she likes to eat leaves until she's plump enough to pop. Nevermind shrugging off what everyone thinks of her. If that red-eyed, thousand-legged Pokémon-demon-god that destroyed Hisui is really her creator, then that's the first question she's going to ask it when she sees it again.

The tingling in her body is sharp and slightly heated. It cuts even deeper than her bones — splintering nerves she didn't know were there. She chews her lip. Her mouth feels grainy, like she's swallowed sand, and whatever's on the other side of her eyelids is too bright to handle.

She cracks one. The air burns, and she curls further into herself, gasping.

Her heart begins to pound in her chest. Has she changed shape? Does she even want to see her body!? She tries to flex her fingers, then her toes, and they respond weakly enough through the afterglow of that awful celestial pressure. She's been stretched. Flattened, perhaps. Tampered with in some unfair way until half of her is distorted and the other half still screams to be perceived as human.

"I 'ope I don' 'ave eyebrows 'nymore," she manages to mumble. One bare foot twitches. She splays out the toes and tries to count them without seeing. Her back is drenched in a cold sweat, and something colder is jiggling around on her forehead until rivulets run down her chin.

There's a kind of forced laughter in the distance — probably that serpentine atrocity wondering if it should eat the rest of her.

"Don't eat me. Don't you see… bright spines and colors? I'm poisonous."

"You need to relax."

"I feel swollen," she insists.

"Where?"

Cyllene bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn't know where. It should be obvious. Her whole right leg lights up now, and she kicks at whatever she's lying on. Her heel scrapes. It is sand! She digs her fingers into it and forces herself to feel it sifting. Her shoulders press down — she feels her spine arch — the dampness falls away!

Something wraps around her wrists, pulling her upwards, and she wants to crawl away and shrivel up and vanish.

"Hey. Can you hear me?"

"No."

"What's swollen? Are you hurt?"

Cyllene's eyelids flutter open again. She loses her balance and falls flat on her back in the sand. The sky is weirdly… blue? She squints, trying to find the bruises, then groans and rolls her head to the side.

"Oh my god," says the strange voice, more nervously. It's not the voice of anyone she knows. But she can tell it's a man, and he's been trying to talk to her for however long she's been awake, and can't he just go jump into the sun?

God. Gods. Two gods. The serpentine creature and the spinning golden ring. Cyllene heaves in a breath, then forces herself to sit up. Her head goes fuzzy as it hangs. Slowly, she pushes bedraggled blue strings out of her eyes and sniffles when she sees the light, creamy color of her skin. Her hands… She has hands. What a relief. She has feet and hands and a soreness like a crescent moon flickering around her neck and shoulders. She does not have eyebrows.

"Oh my god!" the man says again.

"What's 'oh my god?'"

"Y-you."

"Me?"

She points to what she thinks is herself. Her hands smooth down her jacket over her chest and stomach, and in a bolt of instinct her right hand flies to her left wrist, squeezing around the links of her bracelet. She fights to feel the power under her skin — she is magic. She is distortion incarnate. She will make this place a formless, spiritless waste and dwell in it for eons.

"So do you feel… different… at all? Maybe I should phrase it like that. Are you feeling sick? Or just different?"

"Who demands to know?"

She raises her head, glaring. Her left shoulder pops. She seizes it, expecting pain, but it's only a passing twinge. A bit at a time, her muscles begin to relax like they're shifting into place. Her companion stays silent.

Then she looks right at him.

He breaks into a grin.

"Um," he stutters, brows raising, blue eyes glinting in the sunlight.

"What?"

"I mean…"

He's humming and shrugging, as if she should know already.

"What? Who are you? What the accursed happened?"

"I was going to ask you that, after I made sure you weren't dead. I thought you were. It really scared me."

"Well, I don't know who you are, but you don't have to look after me like that," she says, stabbing a finger into his chest. "I wasn't dead, so it's fine."

"Oh my god," he says a third time. It's like she's shocked him with her touch. On impulse, he takes her hand in his and almost crushes it in a strange, wired excitement.

"Cyllene, it's me. I'm Volkner."

She jerks away. The man lets her go, but he's still beaming. He isn't… he can't… Impossible. He's stubbly and fatigued, sure, but the man sitting next to her in the sand can't be any older than she is. His skin is smooth. His eyes are bright. His nose pulls into a handsome point, and the body filling out that flimsy shirt and shorts isn't bony and hunched, but lithe and fit and breathing with a regular rhythm. None of that raspy, shuddery coughing she's long grown used to.

"You're blond," Cyllene says flatly.

Volkner can't help but laugh. He runs his fingers through the spiky strands, which seem to spark and stick up a little straighter. "Hey, I sure am! I bet you never even thought about it!"

Well, she did think about it. Back when he first told her his real name and she wondered if he would look good carrying her corpse.

She shrugs. "How do you feel?"

He seems as much in disbelief as she is, peering down at his slightly-scarred hands in the sand before him and admiring how well they can bend and flex. He pauses to scratch the blond stubble on his chin, then lets his long fingers knead and explore the angles of his jaw until his smile starts to falter and a nervousness creeps back in.

The magnificent fork beneath his left forearm is a hot, raw maroon and bruised along the edges. It's a recent injury, Cyllene realizes. It hasn't even managed to heal properly yet — and if his aged self is any indication, it never will.

"I feel… out of this world. I can't believe I'm actually young again, and I still remember everything we went through. It's so weird I don't think I can describe it properly… How did this happen? Did you change me back?"

She shakes her head, feeling her whole face heat up.

"I think I let you die."

Volkner switches his gaze toward the blue crests washing in on the beach. His face is oddly serious now, and Cyllene struggles to match this otherworldly stranger to a decrepit old coot on a stool selling beer and granola.

"Let's not talk about it," he tells her. "Whatever you did, we both made it to my time in one piece. The first thing we should do is get cleaned up, and unfortunately that might be a little tricky right now. Here, I managed to get you some clothes to borrow, and something to drink."

Cyllene is parched. She snatches the cup as soon as he presents it to her. So this was the rattly cold thing. It's full of ice and made of the same soft transparent material as Volkner's pill vial. When she sucks the straw, her mouth is filled with a bitter brown liquid, and she immediately chokes.

"Careful. You don't want to drink that too fast, or your head will spin."

"What is it?"

"Cold brew."

"Is it like beer?"

"No. Iced coffee. You… Oh, buzznuts. I forgot you've never even had coffee before! In that case, be very careful with it."

She takes another sip. It's strong, but refreshing for the moment. Too much all at once might make her nauseous.

"Do you have beer here in… Sinnoh?"

"Oh, there's all the alcohol you could ask for," Volkner replies too willingly. He stands up, surveying the secluded part of the beach where they're resting. Luxray leaps off the boulder where he's been keeping watch and rubs his muzzle cutely into his trainer's waist. The feline turns back to look at Cyllene, almost grinning with his fangs.

"You're very welcome," she finds herself whispering. Luxray purrs, and Volkner's shoulders twitch.

Abra. Where's Abra? She digs in the sand around her until she finds a wooden Poké Ball buried beneath where she was sitting. Lifting the latch, a plume of steam bursts free and forms into her loyal partner. Abra shoots up into the air, wiggling his tail, and then immediately pops out of existence.

"Abra! Abra!"

"It'll be safe. Just let it explore for a bit. There are very few places here where it's rude to let a trained Pokémon out free."

The two halves of the Poké Ball crack apart in Cyllene's hands. So much for keeping it close to her anyway.

She turns to the pile of clothes Volkner's laid out for her. A pair of blue pants in a very flimsy, velvety material, and a wrinkled short-sleeved shirt like the one he's wearing now. And new sandals! Bright green squishy pads with a single flexible thong to go between her toes. They're oddly revealing. She slips them on and forgets the rest.

Steadily as she can, Cyllene raises herself to her feet. She takes a few steps, then a few more sips of coffee, and comes to stand by Volkner's side.

"What are you looking at?" she asks.

"Nothing," he says, suddenly marching down the coastline. "I'm just… a little overwhelmed." He tugs at the golden G on her sleeve. "You need to take that jacket off."

"I think I'll keep it on. It's still practical and comfortable for the moment."

"It's not that you don't look nice in it. It's just not really… appropriate here. You'll see what I mean when we get into town."

She's confused, but as they continue along the beach — shimmering blue lagoon and flawless sky framing steep, rocky promontories — the air sweet and salty — she begins to see hints in the distance that perhaps this is an even stranger place than she'd imagined.

For one, it's crowded. Blankets and towels and umbrellas are stuck in the sand, with humans of all ages and Pokémon of all Types and colors lounging in the sun. Teenagers on surfboards and on the backs of Mantine coast over the crests of waves. Kids in shorts are forming wet sand into shapes with the help of some Krabby. Metal cans crack open with a bang, spraying fizzy goop all over men's bare chests. Dark glasses obscure women's eyes, and big floppy hats shadow their faces.

There's so much bare skin, and much of it striped with uneven tan lines. Most of the girls are barely wearing anything but strings and a bit of colorful fabric stretched over their breasts. At Volkner's urging, Cyllene takes off her jacket and gi and puts on the plain black t-shirt.

They pass by an imposing brick retaining wall painted over with a sleek, stylized mural of a Luxray extending its claws and breathing lightning. SHINE BRIGHT is sprayed in the corner, hardly legible because of its clashing colors and wide bubble font.

And then things start to get strange very quickly.

Volkner beckons her up a flight of shiny silver stairs. She takes them slowly, grasping his hand as he helps her not to slip. When they reach the top, they're suddenly within the city proper.

It's the Cobalt Coastlands, but lived-in. Stark black monoliths rise like blocky spears toward the sky. Iron railings and gleaming silver paths criss-cross between patches of bright green grass and rows of waving palm trees and shorter, shady maples. Glass bulbs on top of tall iron poles glisten like pearls. People are everywhere — and Pokémon, too. Cyllene gasps when she catches sight of an Infernape — a scarlet plume of flame pouring up from its scalp and furry tail twitching.

"Keep moving," Volkner says hurriedly when he notices that particular creature. He ducks his head low and passes into a long, flat shadow. Cyllene follows, nearly knocking her head into a silver pillar helping to hold up the structure that blocks the sun.

"The King of Burning Sand must be very kind to you. Everything here is made of silver."

Volkner shrugs, not quite understanding. "Well, it did take a lot of work to turn a dump into a sparkly dump. Twenty years ago, you'd hardly recognize this place."

He slaps the next pillar along with one palm. "It's not silver. Just a fancy kind of glass that doesn't absorb heat like tar would. Cities can be both pleasant to live in and easy on the environment, if you plan them right."

Cyllene touches it too, and finds it pleasantly cool.

"The solar boardwalk does get pretty hot in the summer, though. You're not allowed up there if you aren't wearing closed-toed shoes. I'm still working on the best way to regulate the temperature."

"Solar boardwalk?"

Something rumbles overhead. The platform they're walking beneath extends as far as she can see, joining similar structures that feed into buildings and stairways both up to even higher platforms or down along the beach. People on foot and on bicycles speed along fifty feet up in the air, protected from falling by crystalline guardrails.

"It's like a road that connects the whole city on multiple stories. We like to keep things walkable here, not that that means anything to you."

They come out of the shadows, and she watches the buildings shine for a few moments. Volkner's staring and frowning again. A cool breeze rustles his blond hair. He turns toward her, the corner of his lip twitching.

"Something's bothering you," she says. "Your pouty face is easier to see without the wrinkles."

He crosses his arms, visibly shuddering where he stands, and admits it:

"I feel sick to my stomach."

"Are you transforming?"

"No. I'm… not transforming. There's nothing wrong. Everything is exactly how it was before I found myself in your time. It's even the day after the last day I can remember. It's Thursday, August 19th, Q644. The Solar Bean still has rawst berry éclairs, the Goon 'n Tonic posters are still up all over town, and in two days, I'm gonna blow a fuse and wreck my life."

She stares at him after that last point. Luxray lets out a growl like thunder and nips his trainer's fingers.

"Sorry. My brain is on auxiliary power. We're almost to Vista Village. I really don't want to get you stuck in the middle of this, Cyllene, but my memories are coming back to me so fast, and I didn't realize just how bad things are between me and my friend Flint right now. He's a good guy. If he's home, he'll be nice to you, but I need to stay out of his hair at least until tomorrow. Otherwise, one of us is going to start a fight."

His face twists deeper into a scowl as they ascend another flight of silver stairs. Now they come out of the shadows of the solar boardwalk completely and into a wide open neighborhood, with buildings short enough to let a view of the ocean through.

"Hey, it's the Verapamil Villain! How ya doin', buddy!? And LUXRAY! MY FAVORITE BOY!"

There's a tan, shirtless young man standing on a patch of grass and dumping buckets of water out on a palm tree that is clearly not a palm tree and actually an Exeggutor with an extremely long neck.

"Privacy policy violation, Buck," Volkner calls boredly. "They can hear you all the way in Daybreak Town."

"What!? It's just you and me out here! Ooh, you got somebody with you!?"

Buck leaps forward, abandoning the buckets and almost tripping on the slippery grass. He bounds over to Volkner and Cyllene, his red eyes glinting in mischief.

"Are you ready to get your Verm B shot yet, ya weirdo? It's just a li'l poke! You can play with the fidget spinner if you're scared."

"No, but I do need a lost med override on the verapamil again."

Buck gasps. "WHAT!? HOW!?"

"What do you think? I lost it."

"All of it!? Gah! Dude, why do you do this to me!? I hate being on hold with your Sinnoh League insurance! They don't let anything slide, and it's always jazz!"

"That's what you get paid for, isn't it?"

"I don't wanna think about it when I took the whole weekend off. But I will help ya look for it. I helped an old lady find her glaucoma drops behind the butter just yesterday!"

"Shut up."

The intruder turns to Cyllene and waves like a maniac. "Hi! Buck Fresnel! I fill the Gym Leader's pills! What's your name, and whaddaya like about yourself!?"

Volkner waves him aside. "She's just a friend, and she's too tired for this. Is Flint still out?"

"As far as I know yeah. He was getting some fresh air. Why? Don't you dare think of takin' a three-hour nap up there. Flint put all your clothes in garbage bags. Shit's serious."

"I saw. Look, will you stall him if he comes back? I'll be in and out. All I need is a shower. He can't have bagged up that orange suit anyway."

Buck's face lights up at that. "You're not wearing the orange suit, dude. You'll get iced."

"Then I'll wear whatever it is I'm supposed to wear now. God, what a bucket of bolts."

"Uh, I'm excited for this weekend. What's wrong with you, Volkner? Lightning rod up your ass?"

He slaps Volkner between the shoulder blades as hard as he can and cackles.

"He told you to be silent," Cyllene forces, flicking her wrist. Her bracelet jingles, but there's no heat behind her eyes and no blood running down her arm. Her heartbeat quickens, but her fingertips are completely free of tingling or sparks.

Her eyes widen, and she quickly follows Volkner, who's already entering the largest building on the block. It's a great, blocky gray high rise with balconies skirting around glass sliding doors on every floor. He sighs at Luxray, holding up a shiny red-and-white capsule.

"Might as well not get into too much trouble."

One click of the button on the front and Luxray dissolves in a flash of red light. So even Poké Balls are wildly different here! Still, the frustration at hand is more pressing.

"That was weird," she whispers to Volkner. "I couldn't summon my powers."

Volkner shakes his head. "You don't have to turn him into anything. Buck is Flint's little brother, which kind of makes him my brother too. He's allowed to give me hell."

At his tone, she's surprised. His voice is so much sharper, even when he's tired and quiet.

All that time, this is how he wanted to see himself…

In the building's spacious, carpeted lobby, they step in between two sliding doors into a cramped little room with blinking buttons on one wall. Volkner plugs a key into a slot at the very top and twists. Something dings, and when the doors shut again the floor rises beneath them. She stumbles where she stands, falling right into his chest with an "oof!"

"Careful."

He helps to steady her. Her hand comes away from his shoulder and snaps back into place around the iced coffee.

"What are you getting me stuck in the middle of, if I'm allowed to ask? Seeing as we just witnessed the end of the world, and your future is somehow still… habitable."

Seconds pass as they ascend. Volkner doesn't speak. He still looks pained, to the point where one free hand casually grips his middle. The effects of time-travel are hurting him once more — if not warping his body, then playing with his mind. Suddenly all the problems and pressures of his youth are relevant again — and he can't quite remember how he was dealing with them in the first place. Still, he wasn't attacked by the serpentine demon. He doesn't have Commanders and Professors and Wardens thinking they own him. What's more critical to someone his age than being expected to thwart the apocalypse and smile while doing it!?

The swollen, wrinkled white sacks tied at the top crowd the entryway as Volkner steps into the elite private penthouse of Vista Village. One glance, and Cyllene can see they are stuffed with clothes.

~N~

See? I told you it would be fun. Eulogogy guy has an actual job now.

(Next chapter we find out what all this fuss is about. ^^)

Published by scrivenernoodz on FFN and AO3 July 11th, 2024. Please do review! Please don't repost.