A calm washed over Gareda as she stomped back upstairs, deeper into the complex her parents had carved into the Caves of Triumph. Granted, it's not like they'd done it themselves, but all of Fafnir's Tooth had listened. And followed. All at the flick of her mother's talon. The same talon that she'd just shoved her daughter onto the floor with, right where everyone could see.

Him included.

'Gods, damn it. Gods, damn it! GODS!'

And thus it didn't take long before the calm wore off. First came an explosion. Then smoke shrouded the scene, and one could pretend things were fine. But it always cleared in the end, the devastation exposed for all to see.

By the time she reached her private quarters, Gareda slammed the rickety door into its frame, the wood creaking as a split opened up. A growl rose up the Garchomp's throat. Then she screamed. Screamed, and screamed and screamed and screamed, like a tornado had gotten loose in her lungs. As if no one could actually hear her As if the homeless dragons perched a rock's throw away from her door weren't reeling outside.

"That little PIG! That! LITTLE! PIG!"

In lieu of better targets, Gareda unleashed her fury on the wall. Her talons punched through the rocks like a Drilbur's claws, crushing the stone into pebbles which flew all over the room. The pile of straws she slept on fell victim first. Pebbles battered a spear across the room. Then the dresser, and the green scarf resting on top.

As if it even passed for a dresser. It was a stand with two shelves, crudely carved out of the same weary wood the door had been. The barrel didn't go much deeper; dust was knocked off the scarf as it was hit.

Gareda kept striking away. First with her left talon, then her right. A boxing match where the opponent couldn't hit back, but had hands regardless. Her screams petered out into hisses, which disintegrated into ragged and weary breathing as she kept going. Denting, punching, tearing, destroying the wall and all it stood for.

It's not like her mother would listen now, would she? That twerp, her guest? She never stepped on a guest's toes, ever.

"Too damn soft!" she growled out, then clawed at the wall with slow, lumbersome strikes. And all the while, her head throbbed like she'd been drinking all night. 'Think that pig can take this?! You beat him before! Almost had him three times! But he kept getting away! He can take it! YES HE CAN!'

Left. Right. Left, right. Left right. Three final rounds, and she stopped. The fight had caught up to her: she panted, half slouched over, ready to pass out. She had her way with the wall; what started with a dent now resembled a warzone, the stone cracked and torn in a Garchomp-shaped impact zone. For a moment, she had something to be proud of.

"Hah…" 'Just imagine it, that twerp walking in here, seeing me like this… ha, now you can't run. Now, you can't… run… and I can finally spit in your face!' She snarled at the air, saliva dripping from her teeth. 'Scream it all into your ears. Pig!'

Alas, pride is highest before the fall. Gareda's assault on solid rock came with consequences. Well, the crater of a wall remained funny. The pains shooting up her talons, not so much. It wasn't long before both talons were gripped by a stinging soreness, the blunt force pressing deep within. Before long, Gareda went from smirking, to hissing.

"Aghhhh! Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it…!"

The fun didn't stop there. Wanting to soothe herself, she attempted to sit down on her straw bed. All the little pebbles on top got in the way, however, digging and sticking to her skin as it pressed into the jagged surfaces. She scowled, trying to dig the pebbles out using her feet. A savant she was at many things, but cleaning?

The stand turned dressed still had a layer of dust on it.

Halfway through clearing the damage, the Garchomp elbowed herself in the chest. "Blegh." 'Why did I just do… stupid idiot. Overgrown Sharpedo. Dumb bitch. Look at what you have to do now, Starface.'

After half an hour, no more stones ruined Gareda's scales as she laid down on the straws, thank the gods. For a moment, she thought she'd screwed herself for the night. Pebbles, or a cold floor, no inbetween. She was on her bed at last, staring at the ceiling.

'Creator almighty, aren't I lucky no one's barged in. No civvies, no guards, no one. Half the base must've heard me there, damn it.'

She rubbed her forehead down, before her head dropped sideways. She came face to face with a pebble. Good thing her arms were tired; she managed to flick it away as they came crashing down to Eravate.

'What a great life you have, Gareda. On top of the world, Lord of the Vined Crest, General in the army. Mid thirties, and look where you are now. Living with your parents in a cave. Getting shoved around by mom, because you blew a gasket at a twerp.' She shook her head. 'Stop calling him that, you're not making this easier. You couldn't catch him. Look where that got you. Idiot.'

In a way, the pain in her talons said enough. After Luminity fell, she hid while Eravate burned. Still felt unreal, looking back. Everyone in the Crest of her stature must be dead by now. And her? She was with her parents, hiding from a death sentence. Some boss she was. Couldn't even convince her girlfriend to come with her.

By the time she passed out for the night, the pain wasn't just in her talons anymore.

Some great sleep that was. Gareda spent the whole night stirring and thrashing around on the straws, swatting pebbles and dust away with her tail. And that's when she actually slept . Creator forbid she'd get some rest after that trash fire of a day. Nah, instead she woke up several times for a variety of reasons. Accidentally hitting something. A dry throat. Rolling off the straws and getting a nice up close and personal with the ground. And on it goes.

Each time, she had the same solution on her mind. Get up, open the door, drink from the first stream she'd find. Sticking her talons under running water suppressed the pain somewhat. Water cured dry throats. And who knows? Maybe straws stuck better to wet scales than dry ones, and she'd roll the whole bed over with her.

Wishful thinking, of course. She could wash herself a million times, yet restful sleep would remain as elusive as a Dewott. No matter how bad she wanted either, they'd evade her. Sure, she could pretend she didn't need either. Too bad life didn't operate that way.

'Arceus damn it… swear, I'll wake up half comatose in the morning if this keeps happening. Pass out in the middle of patrol. Nice patch of grass to sleep on, yeah.'

Night passed on by, not that Gareda would notice No such thing as a window in a cave, unless you enjoyed looking at rocks. No one did, aside from Pokemon who had 'em for breakfast. And if you did, your stomach functioned as an internal clock, so no light would be required. Gareda's stomach didn't work as a morning alarm, no.

She did, as it turns out, have an external alarm. One which flew the door open come the morning, crashing it against the wall with a thunderous bang. She flinched on the straws, gasped, jolted awake.

"Wakey wakey, Gar."

Of all the people in the world to barge into her room unannounced, who else could it be, but her mother? No one else got away with a stunt like that. Gareda growled, grimacing up at the older Garchomp's face. "KNOCK next time, gods!" 'Creator, I meant!'

Morticia stretched her neck. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Can't a mother wake up her daughter in peace anymore? Is that not good anymore these days, rebel? Or does 'Lord' soun-"

"Grow the hell up already!" Gareda shouted. "Arceus almighty, are you still doing this crap?! I'm thirty four, and you're nearing sixty! How many times have I asked you to drop it now?! First you can't knock, then you're still treating me like I'm five and I can't walk straight! You're pulling my scales off!"

For a moment, the older Garchomp's mouth hung ajar as she listened to her daughter blow up. She scratched along an old scar running along her arm, stopping only when Gareda stopped. One thing's for sure; no teeth or attitude scared Morticia off. Gareda knew that.
And sure enough, her mom laughed at her.

"Ha! Please, Gar. It doesn't matter how old we get. You're still my little girl, and nothing's going to change that. But enough of this rambling. I wanted to talk to you."

Gareda's growls became mere groans. "Talk about what?" 'Sure isn't going to be about attitudes. She's not going to listen to what I have to say, anyway! Blegh, parents. The least you can let them do is be your parents, right? What a joke.'

Morticia shrugged, then moved to sit on the bed beside her. "Why, about last night. We've all had some time to cool off, let it sink, so-"

"Hey, cut that out!" Gareda elbowed her mother as she came down beside her, tail twitching away as she felt hers. "There's not enough room for both of us!"

The older Garchomp laughed yet again, tapping Gareda on the chest. "Please! It can fit you laying down. No need to act all private about personal space. And besides, who was it that proclaimed out loud how she hated her bed? I thought it wouldn't be off limits!"

"Hnnngh!" Gareda bared her teeth. 'That's now how that works!' "Fine, sit down! Just… don't get any closer, okay?"

"Sure."

The two Garchomp got comfy next to each other, for as much as it was possible. They were still in a cave, with zero conveniences, sitting on a bed of straws coarse enough to make rope out of. Hesitant at first, Gareda got comfortable with her mother eventually: It was still her mom. So what if their tails crossed over each other? They weren't so different. Her mom had scars all over, and scales which had visibly seen too much. Gareda herself had also seen too much. Literally, given the bags under her eyes.

'No one's saying anything. Awkward'

After a moment, Morticia breathed in deep through her nose. "Well then. Let's talk about yesterday, because I wasn't expecting things to turn sour. From where I was standing you seemed like you were finally setting in. Wouldn't say at ease, but we were moving in the right direction. But then you go ballistic on that poor boy. What happened? What's the hold up?"

Gareda grimaced, and sucked in a breath through her teeth. 'Of course she'd ask about that twerp right away. Who'd expect anything different?' "It's a long story, you hear? But I don't need to tell you anything about the Othersider. You know who he is. Everyone does."

Morticia smirked. "Damn straight I do. We don't live under rocks… most of the time."

'Ugh.' Gareda rolled her eyes. "Very funny. But yes, I caught him hanging around the main cave, right where you were having your meeting with his… people." She scowled. "Listen. I've spent most of this year chasing after him, trying to get him away from the Alliance before it's too late. And for the love of Arceus, if it isn't the biggest pain in the ass I've ever had to deal with. All because the Alliance got to him first, filled his head with whatever garbage they're peddling, and now he thinks I'm out to skin him alive."

"Mmm." Morticia tilted her head. "Not the first time you've told the story. And how is this connected to the cave?"

Gareda's upper teeth bared themselves. 'Damn you, I was getting to that!' "Because he's a pain! You're listening to me, right? I went to high hell to get that twerp away from those scumbags! Ran all over the continent looking for him, not giving a damn who I had to tear through! Guess what it got me? Some scars, a whole lot of enemies, and a lost girlfriend. Couldn't go a day without my boss breathing down my neck, demanding an answer on why I still didn't have him!" she half-yelled, ending out of breath by the end.

Morticia crossed her legs, then lowered her head. "Boss. What a funny term for a monarch."

"That's all she was," said Gareda, throwing up her arms. "Just a boss. I was a general. You know what it's like? Imagine the mob in some rinky dink town. That's it."

"So I was right, then?" Morticia asked, her tail brushing up against Gareda's. "I still remember the day you came with that ridiculous idea, going into the army. Me and your father knew you should've reconsidered. That overgrown Snivy didn't have it in her. Couldn't even keep a province together, let alone Eravate."

'Yeah, sure you knew this was going to happen.' Gareda shook her head. "You never said that to anyone else. Not even to the dumbest ideas on the planet. Remember Hyran and his stupid 'I'm gonna explore the world' crap? When's the last time we've seen him?"

Hearing this, Morticia smirked once again, running a claw along the fractures in the wall. Gareda went cold inside; her mother hadn't mentioned the mess at all.

"Oh, he might be a prankster. But I don't raise fools. He's smart enough to find someone. And resourceful enough to survive out there. Even through this... No need to take my word for it." She breathed in deep. "But we're going off the path. What about the boy, Gareda? You couldn't catch him, and the worst happened. Now you happen to meet him, and you try to tear his throat out. Explain that one to me."

Gareda jittered; the room was uncomfortable enough on her own, let alone with folks from outside. Cold, unpersonal, civilisation stripped to the bone. One didn't need to go into detail to explain discomfort. Some things don't need a reason. Neither did she when lunging at the twerp. Just the sight of his frizzy, unkempt face pulled her strings.

"...Because I wanted to get revenge."

"Revenge? Gareda, please."

"Ugh, mom-" The Garchomp clenched her teeth. "Okay, revenge isn't the right word. Relief is. I was obsessed. Didn't want to admit defeat. Wanted to just get my talons on him. Don't even know why! Just to yell in his face! It feels cathartic to think about! Feels good!" she rambled, waving said talons around in circles.

Morticia's eyes narrowed. "And that's why you saw it fit to scare my guest?"

Her daughter shook her head. "Pretty much. I know, no excuse."

"No excuse and an apology," the older Garchomp stressed, her scars looking deeper than usual. "Gareda, that boy isn't here for no reason. Do you think he enjoys Eravate's death? Why do you think he's here? Do you see any Alliance around? Of course you don't. He's just as angry about the Alliance and the state of the world as the rest of us are. Ask that hangman of a ghost he's got with him. He'll talk your ears off about it."

Gareda squeezed her eyes shut. "Yes, mom. I get it."

The older Garchomp wagged a talon before her. "And it doesn't end there. Let's be honest with ourselves. No theatrics, none of that pompous 'saving the world' crap. That lad is barely old enough to get tingly when a girl passes him. And you chased him around like prey. You traumatized that poor kid! No wonder he's afraid of you!"

"YES!" Gareda growled, slamming a forearm into her mother's chest, provoking a snarl from her. "I get it, mom! I messed up big time! I've been beating myself up over it for the past month! I can hardly get out of bed without thinking about it! Look at me! I'm a bum! I left my girlfriend behind to die because I couldn't be honest with her! How do you think I feel about this?"

Morticia parried with a fin. "Bad! And you should be… but you know what else you should be? Working to fix those mistakes." She leaned in again, pushing Gareda's arm aside. "You should speak with George. Have a head to head."

Gareda frowned. "What?! Are you mad? Do you think he wants to talk to me? After I just assaulted him? And everything else?"

Her mother nodded. "Of course. I will make sure of that. You worry about what you want to say."

"I-"

Words didn't come to Gareda easily. Conversations were like a field of bombs. One wrong move, and you'd blow yourself up. And Morticia had dropped her straight in the middle of one. No excuse, an apology, and a lot of regrets.

"Fine," Gareda grumbled. "Will do." 'Arceus almighty, grant me strength for this.'

The night could've been worse. Tossing and turning on a bed of straws in a cold hole in the wall wasn't anyone's idea of luxury, but George lived with it. He'd slept on enough straws over the past year for it to feel comfortable. Even if the next morning was spent picking out bits and pieces from his fur, so what? His fur protected him just fine. And scent wise, well… he didn't look or smell any dirtier than any other Pokemon did.

In a way, he had finally learned to accept the Pokemon side of him. Still felt like a foreigner wherever he went, especially in these dark times. Still had nightmares where the Renegade opened a window to home. His parents sobbed by a picture of him sitting on a table, wondering why this happened to their boy. George felt cold inside thinking about it.

'I'm not here, this isn't happening. I'm not here. This isn't..'

Breakfast that morning made for a good distraction, at least. One mouthful of the gruel served made George forget about everything in life for a moment, and in its place came the desire to spit on the ground. The food tasted like grains that had sat in the sun for too long, mixed with old berries. He frowned, then looked across the table. Terez was to his left, chatting with Hein.

Right as the Dusknoir poured his slop straight into his gullet.

"Urp." 'That's disgusting…'

Hein put the bowl on the floor beside him, the lower part of his body protruding into the ground; George's gag reflex kicking in had either gone unnoticed, or he didn't care. "What a mess."

Terez removed her bowl from her lips, then wiped her mouth down with the back of an arm. "The food, or something else?"

The Dusknoir shrugged. "Either works, all things considered. I'm not particularly optimistic about any of this."

Folding her arms, the Gardevoir telekinetically stirred the gruel she had left over. "Eh. Don't get too fussed up, you. Last thing we need is more stress in our hair. You just shouldn't get all pissy, that's it."

"Pissy." The Dusknoir shook his antenna back and forth. "One's 'pissy' is another's heated. I certainly didn't intend to be frustrated. Morticia and her husband brought me there. Especially her husband," he growled. George glanced at him for a split second, but went back to fidgeting with his spoon straight after.

'Pointing fingers, you know.'

"So?" Terez asked. "Just stay calm. Or let others talk if you're feeling out of it. I know I certainly wanted to talk. Or George, for that matter. You just took the lead and ran with it."

Hein sighed. "Apologies… call it a force of habit."

The room went quiet. The slightest movement or scraping of spoons sounded loud and clear. It was a small room; just the three of them, and three straw piles. It had an unsettling quality to it. One which the Dusknoir interrupted, having tapped the side of his antenna with a pointer.

"Say, George. How is the food?"

George looked up from stirring, blinking at the Dusknoir. "Bad."

The ghost shrugged. "Tell me about it."

"It tastes of nothing."

"Oh, that isn't fair, either. Berries are berries. Even ones that sat in a barrel for a month."

The Dewott put his bowl down in front of him. "Of course you wouldn't agree. You just threw the whole bowl in there and called it a day."

Hein cracked up. "My taste buds work perfectly fine, thank you very much."

George's eyes narrowed. "You have taste buds in there?" he asked, tail curling around his legs.

The Dusknoir nodded, patting himself on the gut; his maw opened moments later, and he pointed at the darkness within. "Ectoplasm is far more versatile than you would believe. Even ghosts can enjoy good food, George."

"And dislike the mediocre," Terez added, picking her bowl back up. "Isn't that right?"

"Sure is," Hein said, casually shrugging. Jovial as he was, he hadn't stopped keeping his eye open. George went right back to poking at his gruel, no bites reaching his mouth. That much was clear; and the Dusknoir rose from the ground upon noticing it. "George? Anything the matter?"

"No." 'Bad food.'

"Are you going to finish that?" he asked. George shook his head.

"I don't have the guts to."

All of a sudden, Hein and Terez both busted a gut for a second. George dropped his spoon. Talk about flipping a switch: It's like they were a married couple, and even their laughs were in sync.

"...Okay, that is a good one."

Hein's comment left George pondering, ears flicked back.

'Don't have the guts. Because I don't want to. Because it's so bad, my gut…' The Dewott slouched in his chair. 'Oh. Now I get it.'

George did his best beanbag impression as Hein and Terez joked among themselves. Evidently, Hein didn't have the guts either, and Terez had left hers on the Isle of Swords. Or lost it somewhere. George rolled his eyes; from where he was sitting, they'd forgotten the good jokes, too.

But perhaps someone else had found others, given that a knock sounded on the door moments thereafter. George whiffed the air, smelling nothing aside from the candle in the room. Before any of the three could open the door, it flew open, creaking along the way. On the other side was the Garchomp from yesterday.

"Morning, all of you! Sleep well?"

"Eh." Hein threw his hands in the air. "We managed. I'll say that much."

"It beats the outdoors on a cold night," Terez said, shrugging. "What else?"

Morticia nodded along, stepping halfway into the room, towering over George in the process. "Fair enough. And you?" she asked the Dewott, who propped himself up against the ground with his hands.

"I'm alive. That's all that matters," said George, before fiddling with the Azure Flute again. 'Shouldn't be an achievement, honestly.

"Agreed," the Garchomp continued, then cleared her throat. "Now, I've got… something important here, actually. I'd like it if George came with me for a moment, yes?"

George was taken aback. "Me? What for?" he asked.
Hein's presence crept up behind him moments later. "Ï assume there is a very good reason for this?" the Dusknoir asked. "Especially after that little fight yesterday."

Morticia hummed a dull note. "Funny you mention it. I've spoken with my daughter. She wants to apologise to you, George. Personally." She crouched until her tail was on the ground. "Don't take this the wrong way. I'll make sure she won't be trying anything funny. Yes?"

The Dewott gulped. "Ergh…" 'Do I really want to talk with her?! God, what the hell will she even say? Sorry for almost killing you?'

Terez stood up. "Can I come along?" she asked. "I've had my experiences with your daughter as well. I was right with George when she attacked us. Multiple times."

"Hm? Eh, if you really insist, perhaps we can-"

"No, actually."

George grabbed everyone's attention for himself. He fidgeted his fingers and crossed his toes, scratching his face all the while. 'This isn't going to be fun, but.' "I'd like to speak with her myself, if that's alright."

Hein and Terez were flabbergasted, to say the least. "George? Are you sure of this?" the Gardevoir asked. "If she attacks you, then-"

"I'll kick her ass," Morticia cut in. "No one's better at handling my girl than me. Been doing it for thirty somethin' years!"

"Then you'd better not disappoint." Hein rose from the ground and floated up to Morticia, breathing dead air into her neck. "Not one scratch."

Morticia shoved the Dusknoir away. "No need for disrespect, old man. You'll see what I mean by day's end. And besides… We have more things to discuss once we're done. Yes?"

"Hmpf."

"Well then. George, come with me."

Morticia winked at him again, motioning for him to follow. George was slow on the move, but listened, leaving Hein and Terez to stew among themselves. His protection was out of their control now, all by his own doing. He glanced back towards the door after it closed, biting his lip.

'Sorry. But I need to face her myself.'