The Dark Room

Zorua was suddenly aware of the darkness surrounding her.

It was a simple darkness; inky black, painted over reality like a censor blotting out a line in a document. Except in this case, the single line of text was the encapsulation of her entire awareness. Everywhere that she could see - was she seeing? - was just that: black.

It's not very appealing to look at. A feeling-

There. Right there. A flash of blue, tuned to the tones of the feeling that just spoke. It was like watching droplets of wet paint slap themselves onto the canvas of darkness, giving it some much needed color, only to disappear after the feeling said its piece.

"Wait, no, come back," Zorua said.

Zorua paused. She… spoke? Aloud? How? Does she own a body in this space?

Looking down at herself, she confirmed that, yes, she did have her own body in here. She even had the well-worn green scarf wrapped around her still, which spilled slightly into the air as if she's underwater.

Its warmth is still felt, even in this unreality. It makes you want to nuzzle your face in it. A feeling whispered, a bundle of red sparks accompanying its words.

Then a pulse of yellow, like ripples in water, came forth. It's honestly a miracle that you haven't tripped over the bits draping down. You're not the most proficient in avoiding eating dirt.

Finally, a puff of smoke wafted through the air, carrying the scent of… something sweet? Good thing that you're the only goddess in this place. No amount of gravity can hold you down and trip you up.

"Okay, but what is here? I just see darkness and hints of color whenever all of you talk." Zorua said to the void.

Hmm… The blue feeling hummed. Last thing that you remember, you tried to use the TM - odd name, by the way - to learn the unknown move.

The red sparks shuddered. It was pain beyond pain. Like carving a hole into your skull, just to cram that thing into the vacant space.

"So… did a migraine knock me out?" Zorua asked the collective.

It seems that way. The blue paint agreed.

The purple smoke whipped around in an unseen wind. No, no, that can't be it. A normal, unconscious mind wouldn't cook up the absurdity that you see before you. There is an oddness to this space, a feeling beyond us simple feelings that pulls you in. Can you feel it?

"Uh…" Zorua looked around, then tried to swipe one of her paws into space. It missed the darkness. "Not really? I don't feel much of anything, except the scarf."

The violet smoke wafted closer, bringing with it that sweet scent. You're thinking too literally. You have to think supranaturally.

The blue paint brushed in on thin lines, cutting through the smoke. Or, maybe, you're not thinking literally enough. If this is a space within your mind, then just think of a place that you can interact with. Something subjected to the laws of causality, something real.

Zorua blinked, which didn't change much from the darkness of her surroundings. The inside of her eyelids were made of the same stuff. "Something real? Like, what, a room of some kind?"

The yellow ripples writhed in glee… somehow. Go for something minimal. It's all the rage nowadays!

The blue paint sighed, somehow. Do something efficient; we need the organization, if we want to survive this case.

The purple smoke thickened. It shall be a place to let your imagination run wild. Sometimes, making the right move requires making connections others can't, or won't.

The red sparks sputtered quietly. Make it warm. It's cold outside.

(Let's Make It A Home Away From Home, Okay?)

Zorua shivered and closed her eyes, causing the only colors in this place to cease existing to her optic senses and be replaced with darkness. "So, either a simple room, a room made for organization, an… imaginative place? Or a warm place."

She didn't have a lot to work off of, but she looked back over all the places that she's been to over the past couple of days. There was the beach, which was nice, but not a room. There was Shinx's place, which had a nice overview, but the interior was a bit too minimal; it made her feel exposed. Then she had the interior of the Wigglytuff Guild, which was close, but still feels like it was missing something. She had an aversion to anything connected to Patrat, so his home was off of the list… except maybe for the extra underground room? That cafe place that Absol took her to was nice, but something about it had the wrong kind of coziness. As for Electivire's place of business…

…at least it had shelves? Shelves would be nice.

The first thing that she noticed was a smell. Not the odd sweet scent of the purple smoke, but something older. Dustier, even. Something about it tickled the back of her mind, something old.

The smell of books. A feeling, possibly the yellow ripples, tell her.

Something about there being books - books! - sparked something in her, and she eagerly opened her eyes. Books meant information, and information in a place inside of her own mind might mean something about her past!

Then Zorua paused at the drastic change in her surroundings.

There wasn't a dark void that greeted her. In place of an endless black, there was instead substance in the form of a room- a room that she had seen only today. The first room that she and Absol explored together in the Wigglytuff guild, just after being established as the investigators to THE BOOTY LANE KILLER case. However, there had been quite a number of renovations to the room that noticeably don't belong.

The first thing she noticed was the dark water covering the floor. A hint of the inky blackness permeated even this imagined space, but something disturbed it. Yellow ripples, tiny little echoes on the surface, radiated from her sunken paws. The miniature waves flowed outward, only stopping to rebound whenever they made contact with an object or to fade into obscurity. Its temperature, strangely enough, was entirely unfelt: its difference from her was at an absolute zero.

The objects that she saw first were, surprisingly, books. They came in an astonishing variety, ranging from thick textbooks to novellas, all the way down to thin journals in leather backs. There were a variety of shelves littering the walls, but most of the books floated in the dark water like little islands.

Then she wondered where the light was coming from, which led her to look at where the open window was.

There was no window. Instead, a vivid, almost glowing painting of blue covered the wall like a mural. Hints of other colors were in there - streaks of amber, rouge, and various other shades of blue - but the longer she looked at it, the more she was reminded of a sky in… early spring? Late winter? She didn't exactly remember what those look like, but the mural evoked that imagery to her. It almost looked so real that it entered the realm of unreal. It hurt to look at it for too long, so she turned to examine the rest of the room.

Next, she spotted a desk in one corner. Old, with a plywood top, covered in chipped, peeling laminate- it's the definition of "cheap" and it isn't shy about it. There was also a cheap spinny chair, with the metal coat chipping off to reveal the rust underneath. It looked really uncomfortable, even by spinny chair standards. She was barely able to see over the seat, so she quietly waded over and hopped onto the chair. The chair squeaked nervously under her weight.

Then she spotted the… thing on the desk. What first came to mind is a radio, but built by engineering maniacs who had no idea how to make something functional, and instead ended up with an essential oil diffuser crossed with a boombox that might be a radio. There was even a spot to slot cassette tapes into it, although she hadn't immediately seen any tapes lying around.

Also, purple smoke oozed from a single speaker. It smelled sweet.

Zorua's nose wrinkled as she leaned back. "What is this supposed to be?"

Strange lines of blue light poked and prodded at the object, as if the painting itself had come to life to inspect it. It appears to be a modified shortwave. Its function in a literal sense, besides the unreality you're currently experiencing, appears to be incapable of sending and receiving signals. No telling what will happen when you put a tape in, though.

The purple smoke curled towards her, caressing the side of her face. It's a surprise tool for later. Right now, the waves are unaligned. Distorted. Foreign.

Zorua gave the smoke an odd look, waving it off. "Right… Anyways, I didn't think my mind would be flooded, but here we are. What's up with that?"

The dark water vibrated, yellow ripples appearing from an unseen epicenter. It doesn't feel like water. Too thick, too dark, but it doesn't stick to your paws like ink would.

Sudden spikes of blue light fractured across it. It doesn't match any known substance that you can remember. Is this even real?

The purple smoke coiled around her again, toying with something atop her head- the red strand. It is a reflection of your mind. It's not meant to reflect the world, but you. The objects you recognize are simply clay for your imagination to wield and mold to your understanding.

Then, unexpectedly, a small red glow came slowly from around a bookshelf. Floating on a raft made from a small stack of books, an object gave off a shifting display of reds and oranges. The object in question stood about one foot in height - thirteen and a quarter inches - and displayed, behind a conical glass casing, a sight to behold. Within laid an ever-changing kaleidoscopic mass of indistinct shapes, forever shifting from one somewhat recognizable blob to another. The sight tickled her hindbrain. Just out of sight, hidden by a metal stand, was the source of the red lighting. Whether it's a light bulb, or something more esoteric, she couldn't tell.

Forgetting something? Whispered the lava lamp.

The blue mural seemed to freeze, and Zorua got the distinct feeling that it was staring at the small object. That's what you decided to go with?

Hey, I'm still the life of the party! The shapes in the lamp quivered. It's not my fault that she doesn't work out or have fun! Could at least have a smoke, if she doesn't get any jogging in…

The ripples lapped against the raft the lava lamp stands on, then Zorua's chair. You have been a bit jumpy recently, but that's a good thing. You need to stay sharp.

Zorua nodded absentmindedly, looking over the mess the room is in. She hopped down into the not-water, splashing some of the dark substance around and causing the room to light up further in pale gold. Within that light, she went up to the closest shelf and inspected the sole book in it.

The spine read "Involuntary Actions: Why You Shouldn't Think About It."

Blue lines rubbed along the title. A very important part of your body. I'd say that some of us are in there.

Curious, Zorua laid the book flat, then flubbed with the cover for a bit - damn paws - before resorting to using a single claw to open it. She had to hoist her upper half up to read, standing on her hind legs and resting her forelegs on either side of the book.

The inside of the book was a mess of color, like some sort of painting made by an eccentric with too much time on their hands and no direction. Zorua could discern no rhyme nor reason to it. When she turned the page, there's even more nonsense colors.

The blue lines, which were reading with her over one shoulder, started to drip blue paint onto her. …well this is less helpful than I thought it would be. Hard to put into such a few words, the very function of every atom in your body.

Zorua hopped back onto all fours.

Then she went back up, shutting the book neatly, before standing it up again.

Then she went around to see what the other shelved books have. She thought that they would, at least, have words for her to understand what's going on with either herself or her past.

It wasn't worth it.

After slamming shut the fifth book - titled "Higher Brain Functions And You: The Culmination Of Ego" - she groaned out loud. "It's all just boring colors and shapes! Where's the words?"

Hm… Hummed the blue lines. This is disquieting to the academic community. Perhaps they changed their way of communication to color-based storytelling?

The purple smoke carried in a sweet scent. Just another quirk of your inner thoughts. Color speaks to you more about the depths of your soul than some measly words on paper.

Zorua growled a bit, ignoring the "punch it" from the lava lamp. "Well this was a wash. I was hoping for something new, or maybe a hint to my past."

If smoke could shrug, then hers would be. We all can't be winners.

When Zorua went back down to all fours, her paw nudged something in the not-water. Looking down, she saw the yellow ripples outlining one of the floating books. It laid cover-down, with the hardback lined in a mahogany-colored leather. It almost looked like a journal of sorts, which was nothing like the textbooks of senseless colors that she saw around her.

Zorua tilted her head at it, then sat down to finagle her forepaws under the book and lift it up. After a series of odd shiftings of her paws - and dropping it once with a muttered "Fuck," - she placed it cover-up on a lower shelf next to her.

The title on the cover read "DETECT."

Zorua blinked. "Isn't that-"

-the name of a move you could know? Finished the blue lines, rubbing over every fiber of the book. Why yes, yes it is.

With a renewed vigor, Zorua opened up this book-

(-and everything stops. Or, at the very least, slows down.

Her body is on high alert. Every strand of fur is poised for the changes in the wind. Ears perked for any hint of sound. Nose twitching for a scent of dangerous things. Even her tongue is primed to catch whatever her nose missed, just in case.

But it all pales in comparison to her eyes. Oh, her eyes definitely flit to and fro, looking for some trouble, but it's more than that. Right now, in this moment, in this slice of time, she can see so much more than what's in front of her. Her eyes are working overtime, catching looks between every one of the thugs that want to do her in.

Behind her, she hears the heavy breathing of her partners. They did what they could, and she set everything up while they distracted them.

All that was left was to DETECT the perfect opening, and let the plan take care of the rest.

A cocky grin creeps up her face, slowly, in this speck of time.

She's many things, but nobody could ever say that M******* didn't love this part.)

-and yelped, falling back into the black liquid.

Zorua wasn't ready for the explosion of information crammed into her skull. It felt like she tried to do that thing that men do after shotgunning a can of beer, where they crush the can against their head. Except somehow, this was worse; as if the can decided her head should be a clown carriage for aluminium and alcohol.

Floating on her back, Zorua let out a pained groan. "It's like the mother of all hangovers, and it's in my brain, now." She swiped a paw out wildly. "Mm, one of you cut my head off; it's not cooperating with me and I don't want it."

In the darkness of her eyelids, a faint splotch of blue appeared. We're not capable; we're just part of your mind. Unreality cannot affect reality.

Purple scoffed from somewhere, bringing the sweet scent. That's what you think, nerd.

Zorua grumbled from her spot in the not-water. "You two better not argue while I have this headache, or I swear to god I'll - whassit - I'll do… something, I don't know."

Getting back on track… Blue muttered. So. The book. It appears to be a memory; one of yourself. You used Detect in there.

Now that she's gotten used to the pain - you're welcome - Zorua allowed herself to think back on the sudden flash of information that's been shotgunned into her cranium. "Yeah. Yeah, that was me."

Thinking about it more, she wiggled off of her back and stood up, watching the black substance slowly drip off of her and back into the pool below. It didn't cause any ripples.

"So I had others with me," Zorua started. "They were my partners- like Explorer partners?"

Possibly. Said the blue painting. There isn't any more evidence of anything else, but theories are nice.

The purple smoke softly dragged Zorua's head to the radio-thing. They also could be romantic partners.

Nah. Whispered the lava lamp, drifting by her again. Sexual partners. I'm sure of it.

She doesn't know how, but Zorua got the odd feeling that both the painting and the radio were staring at the lava lamp.

…sadly, we can't discount that theory. The painting said, ignoring the outraged EXCUSE ME from the lava lamp. There isn't enough information to make a conclusion with, other than that they were all in a fight and you had at least two others with you. Anything to add, ripples?

Silence.

Zorua looked down at the dark liquid, a frown creeping over her face. "Uh. You okay there?"

…a.

The small sound caused a ripple to echo out from her right foreleg, ringing out like a sonar wave across the room. It didn't cause any more ripples, as if it no longer had the strength to cause such a thing.

"...ripples? Yellow flavored feelings?"

IT WAS PERFECT! It shouted, causing tiny waves with its strength. THE PRECISION. THE ACCURACY. THE DIVINATION. ETERNITY IN A HOURGLASS.

"...uh-" Zorua started.

You need to use it! It said, quieter this time. The ripples it caused were smaller, but many. Use it, use it, use it! I need to feel how steady your hands get!

Paws. Corrected the painting.

Whatever! You need to use it, sïster! Wake up and DETECT the world! The ripples raved.

"...I'll get onto that. Yeah," Zorua said, looking around her. "You know, whenever I find a way out of here."

Before you do that, you need to find the other move. Said the painting. For a move that made you disassociate from reality, there is a disturbing lack of evidence showing things that don't belong here.

Ahem. The lava lamp whisper-cleared its non-existent throat. Put me onto the desk.

Zorua gave the red light an odd look. "Why?"

Just do it, stupid girl. The desk ornament quietly growled.

Zorua frowned at it, but didn't comment on the insult.

Through a complicated series of movements, all of them involving the logistics of how to pick up objects with appendages that don't have thumbs, Zorua managed to place the lava lamp onto the desk. It took a while to do so, and she discovered that the spinny chair has wheels the hard way.

After rubbing her nose gingerly, Zorua noticed the purple smoke seeming to recoil from the lava lamp. She gave the radio a raised brow. "What's wrong?"

…nothing. A couple of knobs on the radio-thing twisted.

She heard a faint snort from the lava lamp. Doesn't look like nothing. Betcha got a problem with me, huh?

…no.

The blue lines painted a design in the air around the smoke. Sounds like a lie, my liege.

The smoke swirled irritably, breaking the lines around it. You better not get on my case. I'm overworked as it is keeping her in one piece, and now I'm forced to room with red over here!

Ha! Whisper-yelled the lava lamp. I knew you had something against me, bitch!

Why you-

Anyways. The lava lamp continued over the enraged sputtering of the smoke. My old home has something you might need, you closet binoclard.

Zorua felt a stab of annoyance at the second insult, but the content of the words made her look down at the books floating at the base of the spinny chair. Hopping down, she looked over the first one.

The small fox blinked at the book. The cover doesn't seem to have a texture to it, because it was as dark as the not-water that she stands in. Any bits of light inside of this room, courtesy of her numerous feelings, are soaked into the outer shell of the book. The pages on the side, however, are visible in the light spectrum. Zorua can see old, tattered pages that look one errant wind away from being torn from the spine of the book. There's even a few pieces that seem to be crammed into there at odd angles, if only to not let them escape. Then she gets to smell the book, and she sneezes on reflex; it smells like concentrated dust and something rotten.

Still, she lifted it up - lightly, in her mouth, because maybe Litleo had an idea with the whole mouth transportation thing, even if it tastes horrible - and placed it on the desk.

"Okay, spooky book that looks like it belongs to a cult," Zorua said, spitting off to the side. The spittle was consumed by the dark liquid below without a splash. "A cult that died off a couple thousand years ago. Any thoughts or feelings?"

The first feeling to have a thought was, strangely, the red lava lamp. It seemed to glow, the red light failing to find purchase on the book's cover. Mmm, now this is the only book you ever need to read. The old books - the real old ones, made by those who spoke dead tongues - hold knowledge lost to time. The sort of knowledge that lets you in on… it.

Zorua gave a side-eye to the lava lamp at the last word. It almost sounded like it spoke like a real voice, for a moment.

Still, she had to know. "What's 'it'?"

The lava lamp laughed quietly. The End.

"...the end?"

No, "The End", get it right. But yes, I could feel it in the shivers of this book's spine, the sort of doomed fate that this thing holds. You read this book, and you will know about The End Of All Things, and how you fit into it all.

The purple smoke shifted to a lavender scent. Okay, this is your one warning: the lava lamp is just saying things because you won't drink alcohol on command.

The source of light in the lava lamp sputtered. I am not! This is some real, genuine Apocalyptic fuckery in that stack of paper! The hell do you know about instinct, you cracked smoke machine?

The scent of the purple smoke turned sharp, sweet, and almost hypnotic. Well I have more imagination than you do! All you shout about is one apocalypse or another, or how some hot ass is worth a thousand words!

The lava lamp paused.

Giggled.

Heh. You're right; but every word has to say "nice".

That was the wrong thing to say, seeing how it just set off the radio-smoke-thing again.

Zorua, being only mildly more sane than her own discordant thoughts, pulled the old book closer to herself. As she stared down at the cover, a flash of… something, appeared in the inky blackness. Whenever she tried to look at it, however, the hint of a shape disappeared.

Shrugging, she opened the book. Inside, the pages are indeed old, but what she wasn't expecting was the geometric symbols and odd runes covering the whole thing. It wasn't even the "pawprint" letters that Absol showed her: twisting lines and almost-recognized shapes that held no meaning to her. She carefully turned a few pages, seeing if there was anything within the tome that showed her something familiar. Something that could be illustrated.

But, as Zorua turned the pages, the shapes and runes and lines seemed to start bleeding. She only seemed to acknowledge this on a surface level, however. The ink, running across the pages like ants following a pheromone pathway built by pioneer ants. The shapes, bending and contorting the cycles of the heavenly bodies like a measuring stick. The letters…

It. Said. This.

"The End."

"There always is one, in each book. The moment the fire fades and all words have been spoken. The instant the last light goes out and darkness sets in. The sorrow that fills in when you watch the shape go further away. It all ends."

"All of these things aren't The End, however. The true end comes afterwards. How long, you will wonder, before you start forgetting parts of the book? The clever wordplay that the hero shares with the villain? Their favorite food? The name of their home? What did their dying mother say to them when she was on her deathbed? It all just starts to slip away into the final death."

"The true End, the final End, is when you forget the book exists. But in order for it to end, it needs to start first. The opening stinger that hooks you in. The finery in the world that the author paints with words. The spark of a wildfire that sears itself into your mind, throwing you into a world of wonder, light and life. Where did yours go, however?"

"The Beginning?"

And then she shut the book, finished.

…Zorua blinked once. Twice.

"What the fuck?"

Then the silence washed over her. She looks up to the previously bickering feelings, only to see little movement on their parts. She got the feeling that they were both staring at her, despite the lack of eyes.

"...what?" Zorua shrank slightly into the spinny chair.

The blue lines come in, poking the black book. You were… very engrossed in that book. The red one tried to get you to agree with them on something, but you couldn't be pulled away from those pages. The lines broke away from it suddenly. This book is dangerous.

"It could be important, though," Zorua countered. "If my past is hidden behind something that made me forget everything, then poking the creepy cult book could help."

…there is no logic in that. The lines faded away into pale blue paint drops. But there is no other way it could go. Only time will tell.

Zorua nodded, flipping the old book back to the front and making sure to save space on the desk for the other books, then hopped back down to the remaining books.

The second trip yielded a more colorful book. Its hues were a sort of tie dye rainbow, but with an odd pattern to it - prismatic spectrum of light - and was about the same size as the DETECT book. The title, however, was nothing more than a blurry smear of color, with text that should have simply been there, becoming eye-straining to read. Curious, Zorua opened it right there, prepared for anything like the DETECT.

There were no pages.

Zorua blinked. She remembered there being pages on the side opposite the spine, because it had about the same thickness as DETECT did. But when she opened it, it was as if there was just a blank void sitting in between the space the pages were occupying. She placed a paw in the space, seeing if the pages were somehow invisible and her inner brain space was playing tricks on her, but her paw only touched the inside of the covers.

"Weird…" Zorua muttered.

Blue lines hover over the book. No transition state from being into nothingness. We're safe.

The sweet scent of the smoke turned to lavender again. From what?

The blue lines bled away into thin air. I… don't know. It just sounds right.

Zorua hummed as a shiver-

(The Enemy The Empty It's Not Here It's Everywhere It's Everyone It's Noone It's Gone It's Coming)

-rolled down her spine. "Well, I have a hunch that this is the move. No clue why it's broken, though."

She shut the book, and the pages' edges reappeared when she wasn't looking. For all intents and purposes, it looks like a normal - if colorful and defaced - book. She shrugged to herself and set the colorful, empty journal next to the black book.

The final book was one that immediately caught her eye. The cover was a pair of silhouettes, both tall figures who stood on two legs, with the most prominent feature being both creatures wearing long coats and detective fedoras. It was a lot harder to determine what the shorter of the two silhouettes were, but a part of her brain implanted a sort of feminine light to their stance. The taller of the two was definitely masculine, but she couldn't tell what it was, either.

The title read "Dick Mullen and the Lost Child."

Zorua never opened a book faster in her entire life, despite the paws.

The good news was that there were pages in the book this time. The bad news was that they were all blank.

The blue lines ran over it. Keep searching. There's something in here.

Desperately, she tried to flip through the book, trying to find the one page that could have something, anything of substance. She turned each page with a fervor that disrupted the not-water that the book floated upon. Zorua had to find something!

Then, Zorua did find something. She remembered that she opened the book, but novels like these have some sort of summary written on the back of them. She shut the book and flipped it over, almost sobbing when she found words.

…then she read the words.

"You seem to have an identity problem, one that has a lot of parallels with a certain fictional detective."

Zorua stared at the first sentence. This… didn't seem right, but yet again nothing did in this place. At least the letters stayed in one place and didn't go and do an animated conga line across the book.

"Sure enough, despite losing everything, it's this guy and the thought of him being a father figure that stays with you. This has to mean something about your past, Detective. You have an attachment to a father figure that isn't real, so perhaps you should think about the idea of father figures and what that means for you. Perhaps a crucial clue about your cloistered memories will resurface, if you think about it for a while. You know, like a Detective."

"...that's weirdly ominous," Zorua said after a while. " And short. But if this is my brain telling me to do something to heal, then I'm down."

What am I, chopped liver? Groused the lava lamp quietly.

Zorua ignored it as she lifted the book onto the desk, taking care to be more careful with this one. Now, she had three books, all lined up neatly next to each other, with no way to read them. One of them was even missing its pages, which was a pain and a half considering that she was supposed to have a free move and it turned out to be a fluke. The detective book was more of a mystery than anything, considering that she knew that her father wasn't some super cool detective man. The black book was… strange, but she could deal with strange things.

It's a mystery that will reveal itself in time. The radio-thing twisted a couple of its knobs, the purple smoke seeming to transcast from a bright violet to a dark velvety purple. It will for any that you put here, these mistakes. We'll fix them up for you while you're busy.

Zorua gives the radio a confused look. "How?"

By fixing them. The smoke repeated to her. It's weird mind place stuff, don't question it.

"Oh. Okay."

Zorua gave the room one last look over. The place was still flooded with the black not-water, there were barely any books on her shelves, and she had a few mystery books to deal with. Along with that, she had some literally-personified feelings turned helpfully color coordinated objects to help tell which ones were speaking inside of her skull. Well, both inside and outside her skull, considering how she was still stuck in her own head.

…did that mean that her head thinking these thoughts was empty, or was there a smaller room inside of this head, where a tiny-Zorua debated the exact same thing she was? Was she, herself, a tiny-Zorua, having this very thought inside the skull of an even bigger Zorua, who was dealing with thoughts and feelings far beyond her comprehension?

…

A headache started to bloom, so Zorua decided that her head was empty, because headaches suck and she didn't want to deal with another existential crisis.

"Okay," Zorua muttered, holding a paw to her head. "I think I've had enough of this. I want to go back to reality and deal with things like "people" and "work" again. This is getting too surreal."

The small fox looked around again, trying to look for an exit. It didn't take her long; a large shape loomed over the room, cast in shadow thanks to the lack of proper lighting in this space. The shape was pressed to the wall, so the most that Zorua could tell about it was that it's tall, rectangular in shape, with a protrusion about a foot and a half above where she stood on the floor.

A door, but not the one in the real room that this place was based on. Its large size made her feel small.

She frowned. "Can I shrink the door? It's a bit tall."

The blue lines painted across the frame, and with some sort of effort that pressed hard on her temples, she heard a creaking of wood.

The door stayed defiantly large.

No good. Blue said, its lines shattering into cerulean droplets. Its dimensions are firmly planted in this unreality. It stands before you, unchanging of your logic.

Zorua narrowed her eyes at the door, whereas the door remained inanimate to her struggles of attempting to open it. She bit her lip, thinking of a way to open it.

The smoke wafted in front of her nose, carrying a sweet wind. You could make yourself bigger. If the door wants to stay big, then you need to get bigger in response.

Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Whisper-shouted the lava lamp. Get so huge that you can flick the door and shatter it into splinters. Oh, and put some muscles onto your new form, too- you need it to stand tall and look intimidating to scare off larger predators.

"...what?" Zorua gave the lava lamp a strange look.

The ripples danced around her sunken paws. Get some nicer hair, too. Suave women have nice hair.

"Uh." Said Zorua.

Alright, time to get big! Shouted the purple machine, carrying its voice on the smoke.

"But…" Zorua started, before trailing off.

Zorua decided that her feelings are going to do things without her permission sometimes. She closed her eyes and gave into her fate, letting them have at it. Besides, the idea of having a better haircut isn't a bad one; anything is better than what looks like a dollop of sour cream (with a bloody streak trailing up) that she wore now.

…

…It's not working. The smoke said, voice dangerously even and very calm.

Why isn't it working? The blue lines poked around her, leaving a sense of pins and needles in various places.

It's just not working, okay? Purple said defensively. Hell if I know why; this place is supposed to be under our control!

Have you tried pushing the- The ripples said, tickling her paws.

Yes! The smoke shouted. Yes, I tried that too- she's just not changing! A blast of static came from the radio on the desk, censoring something. FUCK!

Zorua opened one eye, then opened the other in disappointment. She was still short, so that must mean that her hair was still weird and very much not suave. That, and, well, her shortness means she still couldn't reach the doorknob.

Just to make sure, she tried to sit on her hind legs and walk her upper half up the side of the door, then reach for the knob.

One paw touched it, but she had no fingers to grip the rounded surface.

She fell back to the not-water, huffing. "Okay, I'm short and have a severe lack of phalanges to operate, and we can't brute force reality to make this easier. I'll…"

Zorua sighed, looking over to the desk. Specifically, the object in front of the desk.

Zorua's shoulders slumped. "I'll stand on the spinny chair."

But- The purple smoke stuttered. But your morale! You'll never be able to defend yourself against the short allegations if you do that!

"I know, I know," Zorua bemoaned. "But if I have to leave, then it's the chair for me."

What followed was too embarrassing to describe. One moment, she was struggling to push a spinny chair through the dark liquid, the next she was pushing it back under the desk with a deep sense of shame. The in-between for those two events would annihilate anything with less willpower that had to experience it. As it stood, she was barely standing at all. There was more dragging of her paws through the not-water as she went back to the door- now cracked open slightly.

With an effort that felt too much for what it should be, she opened the door-

Absol was starting to regret waking up this morning.

No, scratch that- she was starting to regret coming back to Treasure Town in general. She should've turned north to Capim Town instead; a lot fewer pokemon around, but a lot less trouble too.

Case and point? Having to escort her temporary partner's unconscious body to the Wigglytuff Guild, and wasting half a day with her knocked out. The only one with any healing moves on hand was Chimecho, who was out dealing with a corpse, so that would normally leave three others. The first was, surprisingly, Sunflora, but she wasn't in the Guild at the time that the two of them (three, if she counted Electivire helping her in, then asking for the fox to see him again after she feels better, then leaving) had arrived.

Next was Chatot, who would be the one to do it, if it wasn't for the fact that she mentioned the events that happened in Patrat's home. When she showed him the papers, he looked at them for a long moment before muttering under his breath that it might've been some sort of secret code. He then took all of them, then vanished into the Guildmaster's room. He hadn't come back out yet.

The third was… Bidoof.

"Oh golly, was that an Oran berry or an Oren? They both look the same to me…"

He was still in training.

Absol wanted to break something, but forced the feeling down and took some deep breaths. She had a long day (ignoring the fact that it was late afternoon) and she had been up since before dawn. She was tired, had done a surprising amount of work in about half a day, and was feeling a lot of stress over having a bright mind on her side out of commission because she wanted a single move that she could use to defend herself with.

So, she went to one of the unoccupied rooms for Explorers staying over at other Guilds, made a hay bed, then fell asleep. She deserved this, damn it.

It only made her slightly (very) upset when a gentle rocking woke her.

"Absol?" Said an aloof, gentle voice.

Looking up with bleary eyes, she could see the slightly blurred face of Chimecho. "...yes?"

"It's past dusk, now," The floating pokemon said. "I've looked at Zorua only a few minutes ago. Would you like to see her?"

A small part of her wanted to say "no" and go back to sleep. But… no, she had to. It would be expected of her to own up to having a partner again.

She stood up from the hay bed and stretched, then gave Chimecho a nod. "Lead on."

The guild was much more quiet at night. The only sounds that could be made out were distant snores behind closed rooms, and even then, Absol's own pawsteps were louder by comparison. The light level wasn't a problem for her, which seemed odd that Chimecho didn't seem bothered by the dark, either. Perhaps she was used to navigating these halls?

Absol certainly didn't feel like thinking about it too much.

(That was Zorua's job.)

When they reached the room that Zorua was staying in, Absol noted the irony of it being the exact same room that she and the little fox "adventured" into when the request was officially made. The sort of take the amnesiac fox had on everything was surprising, to say the least. Sometimes, she wondered if Zorua had maybe been in a Town like her own, if perhaps in foreign parts. From the way she talked, to the way she went around looking at everything thoroughly, all the way down to that opinion on names: all things that are different from anywhere on the Grass continent.

The only change to the empty room was a single bed of hay, with one Zorua tucked on top of it. She was lying unconscious, which was worrying that she was still knocked out. Next to her was a wooden bowl with various bits of food inside.

Chimecho floated over to the unconscious form of Zorua and looked down at her. Her face was too blurry for Absol to make out an expression. "As you can see, she is still unconscious."

Absol walked up and looked down at Zorua. A headache began to form as she tried to make out her face. "I see. Is there a reason why she still is?"

Chimecho waved in the air for a moment. "...yes and no."

Absol narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

Absol didn't see anything shift on the psychic type's face, but there was a noticeable pause. "Let me start with the "no". No, there is no reason she shouldn't be awake at the moment. There hasn't been any case of a TM headache making someone faint, but it's not a very well known thing."

"And yet…" Absol said, glancing at the still form of Zorua. It almost looks like she wasn't breathing.

"And yet," Chimecho echoed. "She does. It shouldn't matter that it's a TM that nobody knows about. Either you learn the move or you don't."

"Then what could have caused this? Something that Zorua didn't mention?" Absol asked.

Chimecho paused, then nodded. "I believe so. Do you know how much she has eaten, drank, or slept?"

Absol's first reaction was to immediately deny any knowledge of it, but another glance at the still form of Zorua stilled her tongue. If she thought about it hard enough, she did know some things.

"...as far as I know, she only had one meal, around noon. I… don't think she had anything to drink. And I don't know about sleep: I've only met her this morning. She seemed alert enough, though."

When Absol finished, Chimecho turned to look down at the pale fox. "Hm…"

When she didn't say anything for a minute, Absol tilted her head slightly. Her headache was starting to get a bit more prominent. "What's wrong?"

Chimecho didn't turn away. "She's exhausted, in more ways than one. Put your paw to her ribs-" She brushed the ribbonlike bottom half of her body to Zorua's chest. "-here. Feel."

Curious, Absol followed Chimecho's directions, lightly touching Zorua's fur.

When she didn't feel the fox's body, Absol remembered that her current partner had a lot more fur than a normal zorua, so she went slightly further.

…and further…

…until she felt solid mass. A very prominent, rib-like mass.

(It's strange, how this is the second time this has happened.)

Absol frowned. "That's worrying."

Chimecho leaned in closer, lightly brushing along Zorua's body. "It's like that everywhere. She's pretty much fur and bone at this point. It's a miracle that she's so active, for zorua standards."

She then pointed one of her nubby arms to the bowl of food. "There's enough food in there to help her recover from any lack of energy, but she has to eat it slowly. No vigorous activity for at least a week, and I would like to put her in the hands of Marowak to see how she does in a physical environment."

Absol frowned at the amount of things that Zorua had to go through. The words "a week" stood out in her mind like a Sucker Punch. With Zorua out of the - admittedly small - team, this severely hampered her ability to get this request done quickly.

Absol glanced at the bowl, then back to Zorua. Perhaps… "She didn't seem to let hunger stop her. She's surprisingly active, and has a… mostly clear head."

Chimecho turned to Absol, expression unreadable to the blade dog's eyes. "Mostly?"

Absol didn't show her concern to the healer. Just like she used to… "She has a tendency to over observe the environment and situations she's in, to the point that she…" Absol waved a paw aimlessly. "Stares at nothing. Just thinking. In absolute silence, for a long while."

Chimecho continued to stare- at least, Absol thinks she was staring. "Are you sure that she is thinking?"

"Yes," Absol said easily. "Almost too much."

Suddenly, Zorua lightly sneezed. Both conscious pokemon looked down at the unconscious one, seeing if she would wake up.

…after a few tense moments, Zorua continued to be still.

Chimecho sighed. "Still, it doesn't detract from the fact that Zorua is still underfed. What if you two run into Patrat's killer, and when Zorua has to fight she suddenly faints just from the strain of a fight?"

…the wind chime had a point, Absol hated to admit it. She even brought it up to the fox, herself, if for different reasons. The more that Zorua stayed on the request, the more danger she presented to herself. That doesn't even include if someone else was endangered, if the killer wanted more than just one pokemon dead on the streets.

They could be out there, right now, tracking their next target. Night was when they struck down Patrat, after all.

Absol sighed. "...this means she's off the request, then?"

Absol watched Chimecho tilt her head slightly. "I wouldn't force her to work more, in this condition. If her name was on the listing for your team, then she'll still be paid for assisting you, if that's what you're worrying about."

Absol wasn't. But, well, Zorua might have been worried. Whenever she wakes up, at least that will keep her spirits up.

Chimecho flutters in a bowlike fashion- at least, the best a chimecho can do a bow. "I'll leave you to your impromptu partner, Absol. Would you like some spare straw for a bed?"

Absol shook her head. "The one I had in the other room is fine, thank you."

Chimecho did the odd bowing motion one more time, then left. Absol had to admit, while she did have secondhand opinions about the members of the Wigglytuff Guild, Chimecho did an excellent job of proving them inaccurate. For a moment, she wondered if the psychic types in the Psychic Network are just exempt from the notions of others, having their own set of opinions about each other's guild.

After a moment of silence, she looks down to Zorua. The pale fox stays dormant to the world, as if a corpse of her own. The sight would be unsettling on anything but a ghost type, and unfortunately Zorua is not so blessed to be as such.

(...the amount of times she had to watch her, to see if she would wake up to see tomorrow, is too many.

Absol hates the reminder.)

Absol tears her gaze away, settling it onto the sole window of the room. The barest hints of the sun peeks out from over the horizon, leaving the darkness of night to come crawling in over the ocean. The sight is certainly a positive over the Clefable Guild. Sadly, to Absol, it was just a smear of nice looking colors on the end of the world. Any detail granted to those with proper eyes are gone in a blur, leaving much to be desired.

Then an odd thought had her glancing back to Zorua, before returning to the view outside. Didn't she mention something about the window, the first time both of them were in here? Something about clear glass in the window?

Hah, what an odd place she came from. Absol thought. Clear glass in windows, "Detectives" instead of Explorers, and names spoken freely. Add in that familiar crudeness, and I'd call it something left of my hometown.

Zorua was an enigma, to be sure. It's like there's more mysteries wrapped up in her than a whole year's worth of interesting requests. One moment, she's normal as can be, and the next she's-

"What're you thinking about?"

"Wondering why my partner is-" Absol starts to answer, before pausing.

Her headache had disappeared.

She looked down next to her.

Zorua stared back up at her, eyes still half-lidded as always.

Absol's jaw clicked shut, blinking once.

Zorua's head tilted in confusion. "What about me?"

"...you're awake."

"Yeah."

"How are you awake?"

"I… don't think I was asleep?" Zorua looked to the side in thought. "It kind of felt like sleep, but I was way too conscious for it to be just sleep. There was this thing with colors and feelings and- and this weird room that…"

Zorua paused, looking around the room. Her ears perked up. "Hey, it was this one! But, like, way more stuff in it than some fruit bowl and a pile of straw. It had shelves, Abs. Shelves with books."

Absol gave Zorua a deadpan stare. "That's called dreaming, Zorua."

"No it wasn't," The small fox shakes her head in denial. "It totally was some cool psyche stuff that you would see from cloistered monks who live on mountains, trust me."

Absol huffed, trying her best to hold back a bewildered chuckle. It was like Zorua hadn't suddenly fallen over in the middle of a shop; now she was wide awake, ready to talk herself into whatever hole she felt like digging today, and not seeming to comprehend the gravity of the situation just yet.

Zorua looks out the window, brows furrowing. "...why is it almost night?"

There we go. "It's been almost half a day, Zorua. You were unconscious the entire time, until a moment ago."

A surprised blink. "Really?"

"Really."

"...huh."

Absol looks over to the bowl of food, still untouched. The feeling of dread of losing a partner for this request turns into annoyance, and she turns that feeling onto the amnesiac.

"When were you going to tell me that you were starving yourself?" Absol asked, letting The Tone tint her voice.

Zorua frowns slightly. "What?"

"Chimecho came back this evening and took a look at you. She said that you haven't been eating properly for a long time." Absol says, adding The Look to her words.

"...I haven't been?" Zorua looks down at herself, as if inspecting her body through her own fur. "I feel fine, though. You sure?"

"Have you felt yourself? Your body is just fur and bone- that's not normal for a zorua." Absol said.

Zorua paused for a long moment. Slowly, as if listening to someone's directions, she placed her right forepaw around parts of her body. First, her paw sank into her chest fur, then a bit further as she dragged it down. She stopped around her stomach area, then touched around her neck area, reaching around her scarf. All the while, her eyes seemed to be unfocused.

"...that's not right," Zorua said, after letting her paw drop back to the ground. "No, wait…"

Absol sighed. Here it comes… "Now, I know that-"

"This is normal, though?" Zorua interrupts.

…what?

Absol opened her mouth. Closed it. Blinked. "What?"

Zorua focused back on Absol, a confused look on her face. "I mean, don't get me wrong, something isn't matching up, but I'm not exactly experiencing symptoms of muscle atrophy or anything, in spite of the evidence."

What? "Muscle-what?"

"Muscle atrophy. You know, lack of muscle mass? I ain't got muscles, but-" Zorua cuts herself off to look down at her body. "Right, that's weird."

"What's weird?" Absol asked loudly.

"Well, this level of muscle atrophy usually means that I would be walking around like a newborn fawn or something, right? Well, as you can tell, I'm decidedly not walking like I have a boulder on my back and swigged a bottle of wine beforehand. That, and it certainly hasn't stopped me from pushing around rocks and that huge rug, so something isn't adding up."

Absol stared.

Zorua looked up at her, then seemed to really see her expression. "What?"

…she'll just keep it simple. Absol can do that.

Absol nods to the bowl of food. "Well… regardless of all that, there's still a bowl of free food there for you. That, and Chimecho wants to keep you here for at least a week, to see if you gain some weight."

Zorua's brows furrow again. "A week? But we're on a case- wait," She widens her eyes slightly. "Why does she want me to gain weight? I don't wanna be fat!"

"She's-" Absol stops to reprocess the last sentence. She worked her jaw wearily. "It's so that you can gain the weight you're supposed to have, Zorua!"

"...oh. Well, that changes things," Zorua says. She looks over to the bowl. "So, uh, did it cost much, or is it part of- oh fuck me, please don't tell me I have to pay a fee for this."

Absol gives her a confused look. "Pay for what, the food?"

"No no no, the whole "taking me in and giving me medical care" thing," She glances at the food again. "And also the food, yes."

"...no? Why would you pay for getting help?" Absol asks.

Zorua goes to answer, then hesitates. "Because it costs money? I feel like that's a thing that should cost money. Like, a lot of money that nobody ever has, so you go into debt and have to deal with a drain on your cash for the next ten years."

"...that doesn't sound real, Zorua." Absol says flatly.

Honestly, the things that Zorua comes up with befuddles Absol. Sure, you could go somewhere to get illnesses and injuries looked at, but unless you specifically ask for something, or you needed something that would save your life, then most of that doesn't involve any poke. What sort of place makes you pay poke for just getting looked at to see if you're sick, or have something that would hurt you if you don't have a cure handy?

Zorua stares at Absol for an uncomfortable amount of time, then shrugs. "Okay."

Absol gives her a pointed look, then looks at the bowl.

"...oh, right, the bowl of berries and stuff," Zorua says quietly. "I, uh, have to eat all of that?"

Absol shakes her head, horn-blade swishing through the air. "No, just enough to feel full. And then-"

"-we go back to the case," Zorua finishes, nodding while moving over to the bowl. "Yeah, I know the drill; no sleep for the ones who have a killer to catch, and all that. Looks like I'll take a rain check on that week of being useless."

Absol stops. Her paws were ready to follow after Zorua, just so she could break it to the small fox that she can't work on the request anymore. It's almost painful that Absol allowed someone in this condition to work with her, and the reason she went along with it was that head of Zorua's was a boon that most Explorers don't earn for years. The way she can talk to someone to open them up; the way she looks at a room and seems to see things that - even if Absol could see clearly - most would miss; all of that is what Absol needs to find the Booty Street Killer. Without her, she'd have to go at it alone- and while that is nothing new, there's no telling if they'd find the killer before they find out that it wants more murder.

Something that Zorua wants, too, despite the evidence of her body.

All Absol has to do is…

Is…

…

Why did she have to be a zorua?

Absol puts her paw back on the ground, then waits while Zorua has her fill. It doesn't take long for her to-

Absol stares at the empty bowl.

Zorua hums pleasantly. "Mmhm, that hit the spot. It almost tastes better since it's free, you know?"

The bowl of food wasn't supposed to be finished. There was enough in there to feed both Absol and the little fox, with maybe a berry left if either of them weren't that hungry! Absol looks from the bowl to the little fox, who rubs her stomach and has her eyes closed in a sort of blissful moment.

Zorua clicks her tongue. "Okay, time to go."

The pale fox then got up, stretched oddly, then headed for the door. Absol almost wanted to say something, but the shock just led her paws to trail after Zorua. There were some things that Absol didn't know about the world, and half a day later she feels as if that list of questions was going to get a lot longer the more she stays around Zorua. She wants to ask some of them, she really does, but she's afraid that the spell of the impossible will break if she speaks up.

Absol then realized something. "Now?"

Zorua nodded. "Yeah, no time like the present, right?"

Absol glanced back at the window. The sun has completely set, and the hints of light from it are almost entirely gone. Night has come, and…

…well, technically, both herself and Zorua have rested. Both are creatures of the night, being dark types, and Absol didn't feel like contending with sleeping at night again. She had a good while yet before she would be overworking herself.

Zorua… might be a bit more problematic. Absol decided to ask her something.

"Did you sleep enough?"

"Hm?" Zorua said, stepping outside the door. "Oh, I don't sleep. Haven't slept since I went conscious on the beach nearby, a couple days back."

… oh. Zero out of three, then.

Absol sighed, following after Zorua. She didn't have it in her to comment on it. It was time to focus back on the request, anyways. At this point, even Absol herself - the one person who doesn't feel like getting into other pokemon's business - was curious about the pale fox. But that would have to wait until after the killer was found.

"If we're going to head back out, then most of the pokemon in town are going to be asleep. The only ones still up are going to be ones that usually find it better to go around at night, along with those who run stalls at night." Absol explained as they left the den areas.

"Huh, good to know that there's nightlife," Zorua commented. "Wonder if anyone we've seen has some sort of secret nighttime activities, eh?"

Absol shook her head. "I doubt it. Unless they're nocturnal, then there has to be some other reason that they would be out-"

She bumped into Zorua. It's only a light bump, because years of honed reflexes kept her from knocking the small fox over. Still, it left her undeterred from staring straight ahead to the sloped exit of the Guild. Absol followed her gaze, wondering what caught her attention this time.

…

A bidoof stood still, halfway up the slope, staring right back at them.

AN: I would like to thank my friends for looking this over, editing it, and saying that it's 'aight.

They keep calling my OC's gay though, so I guess I have to pay the price.