again
A brackish puddle, barely shallow enough to breathe in, rests in golden sand. In all directions, only desert and scouring sun, forever. Echoes reverberate through the infinity, becoming just noise, sound—nothing.
Too much of nothing.
In the pond, filling it up, a captured soul. Torn from her people, her gods, her element. Above, a dark thing that is and isn’t her, a presence no younger than her and yet rediscovered every single day.
they will hurt you
“~C’mon, work at it you thing!~”
*snap-crack!*
Another mistake, another fell strike of the ringleader’s whip.
The Brionne let out a shrill cry as the cut joined the untold others on her arm. Simple fucking instruction, just had to make a spectacle with these bubbles for a while and everything would go smoothly, and yet the dumb thing just didn’t.
A deep breath, a moment of focus, another go. She didn’t pay attention to the trickle of blood on her shoulder, devoting her entire self to her only remaining purpose. She shouldn’t have had as much control over them as she already had. It was a gift meant to only be granted by the Lady of Waves after her final evolution—and yet; she managed to replicate it from the few memories of her family singing in choir.
Was this an offense? Was that why she was here, sentenced to a hell of someone else’s creation for stepping out of order—
“~No slacking, again!~”
*snap-crack!*
What encouragement the biped couldn’t provide, the blue-yellow Electric-type beside them would make up for in abundance if she didn’t step up. Another attempt, even better. And again, and again, until the masters of these lands were satisfied with her efforts. She tried staring into their eyes many times.
The almost-hairless bipeds offered her confusion, pity, disgust, scorn. She expected other beings to show something else, be something else, but they didn’t. Not like the tall ones, but not like her, either. They had someones, they were granted the bare minimum of protection from the system, they weren’t just a ‘thing’.
At least it wasn’t them.
won’t you learn
The puddle grows deeper, making it even harder to breathe. Louder, louder still, distant voices double up on themselves until they become deafening. Carried by an absence of air, an absence of wind, an absence of any relief.
For there is only her, the suffocating mass above her, and the inescapable sun roasting her insides.
nobody will ever understand you
“Sheesh, if I knew it was gonna be this bad, I woulda added a suspension to ease the bumps, or smaller wheels or something. Why’d she not say anything?” the Mawile asked, around the corner, as well-intentioned as ever despite the frustration clear in her words.
It’d be one thing if she’d just botched her attempt at a cart or it broke, risking the safety of someone older than herself, but to have its recipient silently suffer while using it until she just dropped in the middle of the camp without saying a peep? How was anyone supposed to figure out what was wrong?
“I do not know, Mikiri,” Ana answered. “I will ask once she comes to again.”
The Mawile didn’t have a whole ton of scrap to tinker with quite yet, but she wasn’t keen on waiting until the Torkoal could force an explanation out of the beached Water-type. There were a few things she could try in the meantime, though—lowering the bedding and shrinking the wheels was her immediate idea.
Just a few feet away from them, unseen, the Primarina tried not to scream from the latent pain in her back. The Blissey could easily take another look at her, she was well aware, but making a sound, any sound, felt impossible.
It hurt. But she knew, deep inside, that for her to ever show it, to let anyone know, would only bring them more pain.
you won’t ever be one of them
The black thing looms over her, binding her with its presence. The lost child shakes in the puddle under its glaring eye, splashes the precious water around, but there’s nothing she can do. All this will happen again and again, and they both know it.
It is for the best.
just stop
Faster, faster!
The Popplio ran through the tall grass as swiftly as her flippers could carry her, but it would never be fast enough.
She heard rustling and steps right behind her, too slow and too heavy to be anyone but these big things. Each motion made her little body scream in soreness, begging for her to stop. She hadn’t pushed herself like that in years; wasn’t allowed to push herself like that since that fateful day; didn’t have the space to.
And yet, she had no other choice. It didn’t end up mattering—of course it didn’t.
A few more steps, another bellowing shout, a whizzing sound—and the world around her disappeared in an instant. The next thing she remembered was being pushed even harder for days on end without any breaks, without food. Tall ones were even louder, even angrier, even more indiscriminate in their lashes.
She didn’t understand.
They had all broken out together by striking the flimsy metal thing that kept their shared cage shut at the same time. The big ones were away, asleep. They should’ve been able to get away into the night and never get found again—
Unless...
The Water-type looked over the other two beings that had taken part in her escape, now separated into their own, even tinier cages. In the one right beside hers, a bipedal mass of blue vines shook in place, their gaze fixed on something neither of them could see. She thought about reaching out to them, trying to catch their attention, but knew there was no point to that. They weren’t listening; they couldn’t understand her; all she’d achieve was annoying the tall ones further.
Further away, a green Electric-type was devouring their portion without a care in the world. They took their time, licked their snout after they were done, and caught her staring in the distance. She begged for a wordless answer about whether they had done anything—and if so, what.
They gave in moments later, and laid down where they stood, facing away from her.
She knew.
you are alone
Another blink, back to the debilitating echoes, the deafening silence. The black thing is there with her, beside her, outside of her, filling up all the space in between her contorted body.
The voices come together into sounds, words, some even familiar. She knows them, but she doesn’t understand. With every strained breath, the dry ocean above her grows louder, busier, closer, even more violently incoherent.
As she deserves.
you are nothing
One moment, she raced through the currents, along with dozens of the blue-white fish that filled the seas surrounding their islands.
The next, metal wire dug into her skin as it dragged them all through the chaotic waters.
She flailed as hard as her body could manage; tried to cut through the reinforced net with the few techniques her elders had already passed to her. The wire didn’t move at her Pounds, ignored her Aqua Jets, and before any of the mightier denizens of the ocean could try striking against it, they saw brilliant sparks jump from loop to loop, leaving only painful numbing where they touched.
A moment later, they coalesced into a Thunder Wave, paralyzing their bodies and snuffing their consciousness.
The Popplio could barely breathe as the world shifted underneath her, so familiar and so wrong. Her gaze was stuck, staring through a wire net, through rusted bars, through miles of sea air—at the place she called home, fading further away by the moment. Around her, wet splashes, thudding of hard rubber on brine-corroded metal. Grunts of exertion, cries of pain, the latter thinning out with each crackling, zapping sound that signaled another soul being captured.
Until only she remained.
“~Cap’n! Ta hell’s that one—these mermaids you mention’d?~”
“~Sure is! Bring out one of the black balls for it, and have Dolly give it another good shock before you toss it.~”
“~What about the islands?~”
“~What bloody about them? If they lived, they would’ve acted long bloody ago. Nobody’s watching, fecking insanity that ours haven’t gone in and taken it yet.~”
Nothing but uneasy mumbling for a few moments after that, mumbling and whining of metal underneath the cowards’ footsteps.
“~Bloody morons, you lot. It’s a fecking payday for us all, and if none of you can get it in your thick, hollow skulls, then I will. Dolly, let loose on this thing!~”
The Thunder Shock made her writhe on the boat’s deck, body gripped by a paralyzing, red-hot pain it only barely remained awake in the face of.
By the time the blissful release of her prison came, she could only beg for it to never end.
this is your fate
She breathes, and the darkness reaches for her throat. Its touch is slimy, wet, ever familiar. It’s her own flippers, scars and all, caressing her shoulders and cradling her neck. They paralyze where they touch, making it impossible to resist, impossible to fight back.
The thing that is and isn’t her screeches and holds as tight as it can. She thrashes in the silted, murky brine as her breath is strangled out of her, to the tune of her own voice.
I TOLD YOU
IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO END LIKE THIS
YOU SHOULD’VE LISTENED
I’M NEVER WRONG
EVERY DAY WILL BE THIS HELL
NO MERCY
NO REPRIEVE
NOBODY WILL SAVE YOU
YOU’RE NEVER RIGHT
YOU ARE NOTHING
And yet, she has to fight.
Her arms are so numb, so weak, but they strike back where they can. She shrieks at the tar-like smoke; it shrieks back. Each blind swing hurts herself even more, hurts it. Their struggle turns into one of endless attrition.
THIS HELL WILL NEVER CHANGE
“Y-you’re wrong.”
Why her?
The Primarina thought idly to herself as she watched the bustle of their village through the entrance to the Elders’ tent. It was a position she doubted the utility of in general, but never in a thousand Moons would she have ever imagined that Orion would select her for that role. She’d arrived more recently than many others, her contributions were limited with so few words, and yet... the Zoroark chose her.
From an outsider not just to their village but to this land as a whole, to this. Orion’s trust wasn’t isolated, but no matter how many compliments for her smarts she’d gotten, they never quite clicked right. Ultimately, she knew what she thought about her own inability didn’t matter.
They trusted her, and she wouldn’t betray their trust.
In a way, her destiny mirrored that of this entire camp. A ragtag, aimless band of three people who barely knew each other, stumbling upon a native and her son. Only a few years later, dozens of people living and thriving together, pooling their strengths and knowledge to accomplish what no soul could ever hope on its own.
From barren dirt and wild grass, to burrows, tents and huts, to fields and bushes of nourishing bounty, to the vulnerable ones being cared for and the sick tended to.
The oh-so-familiar, woofing voice interrupted her pondering, “Oh dear, is something wrong?”
The Fairy-type shook her head and lifted herself up a bit. Her cart was just out of reach, but it could wait for a while longer. “There is not. Worry not, Orion.”
“Oh, I’m gonna keep worrying about a friend, ha!” the Zoroark chuckled. “Is the title too much all of a sudden? Maybe I should scale back—”
“No need to. I... appreciate your trust in me, Orion.”
“Why wouldn’t I trust in one of my closest friends?”
Tried as she could, the smile that followed refused to bulge even slightly. Still, she asked soon after, “I do wonder about one aspect of it, though.”
“Go righty ahead! I mean it, I really hope we can work all the kinks out; it’ll be awesome!” Orion squealed.
“Why Winnie?”
The Zoroark blinked at her, stunned. His confusion lasted only for a moment before breaking into chipper, woofed laughter, not even trying to conceal his mawful of sharp teeth with a paw. It diffused the tension greatly, which was appreciated, but she couldn’t deny it feeling a bit... dismissive, too. “Oh, I know, I know, won’t deny he’s... a little rough around the edges right now, but I really mean it when I say that I can change him. He caught my eyes for... hehe, reasons after all! I really believe in him; he’s already improved a fair bit!”
It took the Primarina her entire willpower to limit her reaction to only a modest roll of her eyes. If the Breloom really had changed, she hadn’t noticed it, despite knowing him for several years now. Out of everyone living in the village with them, she had a hard time coming up with someone less appropriate for such an important position. Who knew; maybe Orion really did see something in him that nobody else has.
She wasn’t convinced. “It sounds risky to stake him being fit for this role on him changing.”
“Mayyyyybe, but isn’t that what we’re all already doing, anyway?” the Zoroark smiled. “None of this would be here, none of us, if not for change and the willingness to embrace it. The only reason we’re here is because of the hope we’ll be able to grow it even further, to ensure the safety of even more, to be this beautiful gemstone of this land. And who knows, maybe if the world changes one day, if we won’t have to hide anymore... then maybe we could even have humans join in to help make it even bigger!”
“That sounds... unlikely.”
“Well, considering I’d turned from a runt that was more likely to starve than to ever bear offspring to this, I’ll stick with believing in change,” he teased. The Fairy-type kept her unamused look, only making him laugh even harder, “Oh come onnnnn~, you’re acting just like Ana! Yes, it’ll be harder, but I believe in it. In a way, we’re all striving to turn this cruel world into beauty, right? Well, you could say that’s just my way of doing it!”
There was no arguing with him about that; she was well aware. Especially since she wasn’t sure how she’d even feasibly argue—he was entirely right; that was what they were fighting for. What they’ve already been succeeding at for years. Change was never easy,
But it was always possible.
ALL THAT MEANS NOTHING
A hateful shriek strikes her head like a rock, drawing blood and cracking bone. She grasps the nothingness shaped just like her and pushes herself off of the puddle’s bottom, toppling them both over. Underneath her is only more of herself, dark and loathing and hurting and afraid. It bites what remains of her right flipper, but she presses down on it.
THE FOUR HATE YOU
“You’re wrong.”
There.
After swiping the loose leaves that had covered the sacred spot, the Primarina placed the tiny, makeshift candle on the patch of dirt and backed off a couple of paces. Nowhere near the splendor of the pearl-sanded beaches she remembered, but that didn’t matter.
All she needed was a little light under the moonlight, a bit of the diligent ceremony, and faith.
For a long while after she’d broken out of that place, she feared that her Lords and Ladies would never forgive her for abandoning her prayers. She never stopped trying to perform them, stilted and imperfect, but was doubtful they ever reached their destination. And that was just one of many fears, one of dozens of little harrowing thoughts that drilled into her how much of a mistake her entire existence was—
With each passing year, with every new soul in this tiny commune, more and more of these fears gave up, one after the other. She had more support, more community, more love than they had durability, and that thought brought her solace.
Moonlight mixed with the fading, orange glow as she drew small signs in the sand. The holy names of The Four, only meant to be seen by those who knew of their significance. She’d swipe them away as soon as she was done praying, but until then, they would be the tiny, constant reminders that her Lords and Ladies were there with her, no matter how far away from home she was.
Words came soon after, little more than barely audible whispers. Nothing remained of her memories of the language she once spoke, forcing her to use Orion’s artificial one. That discrepancy, too, used to bring her grief—but just like others, it couldn’t withstand closer scrutiny. Prayer was prayer, after all, no matter how it was performed. The Four Themselves didn’t use the islands’ tongue either, it was but a mortal tool for communication.
And in this different land, she just had to make do with a different tool.
“Lord of Storms, let your courage inspire ours.”
“Lady of Flowers, may we bask in your ever-shining joy.”
“Lord of Trees, bless this village and its people to keep growing.”
“Lady of Waves, be thine wisdom ours.”
These weren’t Their lands, but she still felt Their love, and hoped her actions would only spread Their glory further.
WORTHLESS WORTHLESS WORTHLESS WORTHLESS
The brackish water covers the darkness’ head as it stares at the Primarina with star-like eyes. They drill into her, singe her skin; it hurts like hell—a hell she is familiar with. All this has come many times, and all this will come again, and she knows exactly how the rest of this spar will go.
With all the effort it can muster, the thing tries to topple her over, only knocking them both into the muddy pool. It follows up with another attack, teeth bared and trying to rend her into pieces.
YOU CANNOT TRUST ANYONE
“You’re wrong.”
Another show went by without a hitch, granting the Brionne the mercy of rest. A short, painful rest—but rest all the same. A bowl sat in the corner of her cage, licked clean after she’d gone through her usual portion—just enough to not starve. Above, the pale white eye of the Lords and Ladies, watching over their errant daughter.
She remembered, years back, how she’d just go from one day to the next in the time it took her to blink. Not always, but... it used to happen, whereas it didn’t anymore.
Maybe she’d just misremembered a few days as much longer than that. Her memories weren’t the best from that time, too muddled when it came to everything that wasn’t her rehearsed routine. Just one performance after another, practiced well enough for everyone to act their parts perfectly.
With no time in between, no rest, no meals.
She remembered knowing someone who didn’t exist anymore.
Shaking that thought aside, the Water-type glanced over at the being approaching from the distant corner of their camp. Just a human like all the others, but... this one felt different. Spoke without harm, looked at her without hatred. They were together with all the other ones; they should’ve been hurting her, but… they weren’t.
In the folds of their clothes, a few more pieces of fruit; left inconspicuously just inside the cage. They backed off right after, before squatting a few feet away. Every night for the past two Moons, without fail. “~Gonna eat it?~” they asked.
Prompted by the voice, she picked up the treat into her scarred flippers, one missing most of its fingers. Manners and diligence were only the faintest memories by now; the meal devoured faster than she could swallow. She knew the Lord of Trees was staring at her with disappointment, maybe even anger at disrespecting nourishment to such an extent. Deep inside, the Primarina wanted to excuse herself, to bring up the obvious justifications for her miserable state, but... yhey didn’t matter.
She was of the chosen people, even this far away from home. She should’ve represented their Lords and Ladies with pride, and not acted as entertainment for those savage, monstrous—no. Not all.
“~Phoned the cops at Mistralton to give them a heads up. Maybe this time someone will come and investigate you, heh...~” the human chuckled painfully to themselves before sighing in defeat, “~I know nothing’ll come of it, but gotta keep trying, huh. Couldn’t find you in a dex, no way in hell these people just found you somewhere. Though... should that matter?~”
They stared at their hands, illuminated only by the distant campfire and the brilliant moonlight above. Looked clean, didn’t feel so. Just a cleaning job for a circus; none of this should’ve been this hard, and yet… “~Lemme see if I can get you a blanket or something once we settle in a larger town. Doubt the fat fuck will appreciate it, but... have to try anyway, eh?~”
Nothing was ever as clear as she once believed.
IT WILL NEVER GET BETTER
The nobody that is also her wails on her, pulling her further down into the mud, into the soil, into the earth. Into death. She cries out in a song of her Lords and Ladies, in the words of the tongue of her new people, amidst the land of the alien people, in their love and hate. Each memory turns into its own bubble, brilliant and mighty, dissolving the black mist where they strike.
NO ONE WILL EVER HELP YOU
“You’re wrong!”
Another round of shows over—onto the road once more.
The blizzard drained whatever life remained in the nondescript woodland surrounding the convoy. It also made it a serious pain in the ass to keep driving, especially with the truck’s tires being little more than shreds of rubber draped on rusted metal frames by now.
This place was lacking in signage—though even if it hadn’t been, they sure as hell wouldn’t be finding any good places to stop in the middle of these backwoods. Just had to keep going until they made it to the interstate, then find the exit for Lillywood.
Boss’ had scoped that place out a while back, should be just barely enough people to eke out a profit. Everyone else remained unconvinced, but whatever. Their circus of a circus, they got to decide. The moment this entire thing went tits-up, nobody had any delusions about getting the hell out as soon as possible—
*whine-squeeaaAALLL—*
The brakes shrieked, but the vehicle didn’t obey. One instant, a tighter turn on a slippery surface sent the truck balancing on just one side of its wheels, startling the driver into full awareness.
The next, it was too late.
*CRASH!*
Trees dismembered the metal chassis and spilled the gasoline onto the frozen dirt. The impact sent the box flying and the cages inside bashing against one another, before the latch holding them contained was sheared off. Seconds later, fire exploded around the wreckage as a second truck crashed into it, only adding to the mayhem.
Whoever was still awake and alive knew they had to run.
The Primarina could barely feel her back after the impact, but her voice hasn’t left her. It pierced the dark, overpowering the rusted padlock. She heard human shouts in the distance, calling after her—but they were much too late now. Everyone for themselves, were they to run for their own lives,
Or finally use the opportunity to take another’s.
She didn’t care, she couldn’t care. Reduced to a crawl, she crept with all the strength her body still had, pushed towards freedom through more pain than she thought possible. Through the cold, through the snow, through the thorny, dead shrubbery. Through the distant shouts, through the close howls, she didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, even with the certainty that only death awaited ahead.
A gracious gift from the Lady of Waves.
Soon enough, the cold drained the last of her sensations, leaving her body pushing on in pitch blackness through muscle memory alone. It would only get her a few miles more, at most, but her mind had no room left for that consideration. Her finest hour, the ultimate defiance of her captors, the ultimate sacrifice to the Lord of Storms. She expected a godless beast to do her in—but not the terrain.
Before she knew it, the incline had her crashing, rolling forward with not even the Moon to show her what was happening. The darkness kept striking with sharpened stones and mighty boulders, opening cuts and dotting her with bruises. She had no control left of her body anymore; only begged for her demise to come soon.
The ravine ahead answered.
A drop, a grazing hit against rugged roots, and a crash. It cracked something inside her, forced her to shriek despite her weakness, left her alive and ripe for the wilderness to feast on. Immobile, defenseless, half-dead.
The darkness didn’t move as she wept, as she shook, as the freezing silence slowly put her to her eternal slumber.
Until, finally, came a low growl.
Two teal pinpricks stared at her from the dark, sealing her fate. They grew louder as they approached, making her want to beg for mercy one last time,
Instead, came only darkness.
An eternity later, warmth. Comfort. Movement. Pain, muffled to all the extent possible.
Voices.
She barely had the strength to open her eyes, to take in the afterlife decreed for her. Too hazy to make out beyond swatches of color—black-red, gray-white. More growls, more squeaks, more words. They alternated, back and forth, before the higher-pitched one stopped, and the smaller, lighter blur moved towards her. “^Thank goodness, you’re awake!^”
The weakest flinch of her life; noticed all the same. The black and red mass approached instead, their voice rougher and softer simultaneously, “Hey, hey, doncha worry. We got you, friend.” A furred, clawed hand cupped her cheek, stroking it gently as the voice continued, “Name’s Orion—feel free to wait with yours until you’ve recovered some, haha! Really glad I found you, you looked like a goner.”
Her eyes demanded to be closed as she laid still in an overwhelmed, exhausted stillness. She had no idea what was going on, and yet...
“Yes, yes, rest now. I’m glad you’re here. You’re finally safe, friend.”
She did not doubt these words. Not then.
Not ever.
JUST DIE
Distant echoes turn into words of so many people—oh so familiar. Too much, much too much, both her and not-her-yet-still-her want to writhe and hide, want it to stop, but she knows she can’t. Each excess sound hurts her, but it hurts the black thing even more; love and respect melt through it.
It tries to blot them all out, blot out the voices as it keeps drowning her in mud. With one last, fevered shriek, it wails at her from every direction, bruising her with its sheer malice—
THERE IS ONLY ME
HE’S GONE
YOU WILL NEVER GET PEACE
YOU WILL NEVER BE LOVED
YOU WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTED
THIS IS FOREVER
YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, CELIA
The Primarina thrashes before suddenly stopping; and staring straight up into the blackness. They stare at each other, and the latter soon flails at the realization of what is coming. What has come every time, what will come every time. It fights it with the very core of its being.
And each time, it loses.
She leaps forward, pulling it into as tight an embrace as she is capable of. It shrieks, dissolving from outside in. Black smoke fades until white skin, azure scales, and teal hair reappear once more. Bruised, bleeding, hurting so much it can barely think.
She can barely think.
Beside her, a dark-furred, red-clawed paw cuts in through where the black fog once was, ready to be grasped. The other her thrashes at the sight, tries to squirm away, escape this help, but she doesn’t let go. She reaches out for the outstretched limb,
“You’re wrong, but I love you.”
And grasps it.
*bang-bang-bang*
Celia gasped as she came to, blinking the last of her dream away. It should’ve been more familiar to her by now, and yet it never quite became so. Maybe it never would, maybe the same battle in her subconscious would return every single night for her to conquer yet again.
Even if so, she didn’t fear—the Lord of Storms was on her side. Each time she got stronger and it weaker, each time she knew what to say to herself, shout at it, just that bit better.
But that was a concern for the next night.
After maneuvering half her body onto the cart, the Water-type crawled over to the entrance of her personal section of the Elders’ shared dwelling. She pushed the flap of the door aside, gave the Torkoal a bow, and started making her way past her and the piece of wavy scrap metal that served as her alarm bell.
The Fire-type didn’t move, still staring into her room. Celia didn’t notice; today would be far too busy and important for any distractions. Even before the vote, she had to see how Max felt about all this, and get a feel for several other people—
“What are you planning, Celia,” Ana spoke, not even looking over her shoulder, right as her fellow Elder was about to leave their shared tent. It froze the Primarina in place, facing the parted exit and all the light that spilled in through it, and away from the Torkoal.
One moment passed, another. The impasse continued and threatened to never end, with the two Elders not even daring to glance at each other over their shoulders.
And then, at last, Celia answered—
“To do the right thing.”
—and left, into the ever beloved, ever changing, ever vast world outside.
