Foolproof method for waking up fairies: bring them more food.

That's not to say Pippi didn't take her sweet time, even with the allure of more toast to fill her stomach with. The difference between stillness and even the slowest motion is infinite in relative terms, and it was a fact she seemed keen on showing the absolute limits of. Yawn, a squirm, a sluggish attempt to sit her blob of a body upright. Then another, and a third still, at last success. Hard earned, hard yawned, hers to savor.

Partially deliberate- few things brought a smile to Anne's face these days anymore. Pippi was willing to do whatever it took to do so, even if it meant making an entire circus out of herself.

Success.

The smile was brief, wobbly, somewhat guilty at finding this funny to begin with- but there all the same. It gave the Clefable hope that one day her human would be capable of accomplishing it on her own once more. How many months since she'd genuinely seen Anne relaxed? How many years?

"Good morning cute stuff! How's packing?"

Stubby fingers moved in a coordinated flurry, gesturing meaning into existence. In a way, it was almost like her own special kind of Metronome, one that channeled the order of grammar as opposed to the chaos of cosmos. That's not to say that she didn't know of the latter- just that after her first attempt at the move burned Anne's eyebrows off and singed half their bed she was more than comfortable sticking to the more tamed variant of the move.

At least indoors.

"Figured out the basics for the most part. Now it's starting the whole thing, figuring out how much space is left afterwards, then settling on what to stuff that space with, and so on and so on."

Unovan Sign Language looked much less awkward when signed by hands of the species it was actually made for, but that didn't detract from how special it felt for both speakers. Still magical, even after all those years. Communication, such a banal thing. And yet, so, so rare, especially in situation like theirs.

"Wanna any help?"

"A list of must haves would help a lot, just to doublecheck me."

"Ya got it!"

It took Pippi a a couple years to unlearn the impulse to actively try and help her human with everything, and a couple more to really make peace with not helping. Anne just really needed to be in control of a task to be comfortable with it, deep down. Any amount of time wasted by splitting up would be inevitably wasted, and then some, by the incessant double checking that inevitably followed. Hardly ideal, and something the teen knew full well she had an issue with.

Something to work through on a different day.

7:46 AM.

Bite off of the topmost piece of toast, a quick stretch, hop off of the bed. Bounce towards Anne's desk, another, a flutter of her vestigial wings. She remembered the general layout of the drawers, but the usefulness of that information expired two hours ago. This one? Nope, just old notebooks, good as kindling the moment the final bell rang. The other one? Flood of ballpoint pens, plenty used, many not. If Anne was to be believed, unbelievably noisy when ruffled through, a fact Pippi only remembered a few moments after she started digging in search for a pretty, glittery pen she saw Anne use a couple years ago.

Oops.

Third drawer, finally, blank paper. Page torn out, random pen grabbed, time for scribbling. Underwear. Hygiene. Other clothes. Wallet. Papers. First aid. Spare glasses. More papers, about herself this time. Her pokeball.

Yeah, that last one will need a reminder in particular.

With the list scribbled, Pippi could get back to the things she enjoyed most in life. Namely, eating, reading, and interacting with her human, even by just watching her work.

Determined Anne was fun to watch, doubly so knowing this mood was the reason Pippi was even alive. Each time the fairy thought back, she was dumbfounded she still remembered it as well as she did.
Just a tiny hatchling, only a few days old. Top of a cold, foggy hill. Grey clouds above her, stretching forever in every direction. Dark towards one direction, visible gradient from silver to navy. Flashes in the distance, decoupled from their thunder. Innermost impulse to open her mouth and cry out, cry for help, cry for anyone. Nothing happened each time, must have been doing it wrong.

Completely alone.

Moss and scant grass were her only company as she slowly descended down the hill, marching in the only direction she knew, direction of forwards. Cold wind, suffocating silence, deep sense of something being wrong, deep enough to not have a name. Panic, confusion, fear. Her mind was too little to tell those apart.

Eventually, a glance of someone following her.

So much bigger, so much more dangerous, upper body light green, lower body dark blue. Constantly chasing her, sluggish and uncoordinated in its movements just enough for her to barely keep ahead. Up a hill, down another, around a craggy outcropping, the monster still on her trail. A noticeable fraction of the entire time she'd been alive up until that point later, finally, something happened to it.

One moment drawing in closer, another, on all fours, scratches and blood on its face. Pale hand reaching down to the stone floor, another to its face. Hasty, frantic motions, something picked up, inspected with shaky hands. Her track lost, for good- all it could do now was slowly inch forwards. She turned tail and ran, up and away in a straight line, soon lost in the mountainous maze. Moment later, caught off guard by the setting Sun and rising Moon.

It was the most beautiful thing she could imagine.

Blissful enough to eclipse the growing sensations of her body. Hunger, exhaustion, latent fear. Nothing looked edible. Nowhere looked safe to rest. There were other beings around her, still. Large, differently shaped. Friendly? No time to think, she was tiny and they were huge. Run. Hide. Here? There?

She was tired, she was hungry, she wanted to even be able to cry for help, but nothing kept happening. Where was she? Who was she? Why was she alone? All grew darker, darker still. It was dark, but Moon let her see. See a nook, a small crevasse, perfect to hide in. Run, fast, faster than the tiny self can move-

Something else there, or someone.

Small, curled up, shaking. Light green top, dark blue bottom. It looked up at her and froze. Not scary, scared itself. Of night? Of her? Too tired to keep searching. One step closer, another, the thing remained still. Dirty to touch, cold, blunt. Multicolored. Suddenly, a shaky hand. She jumped, stared, leaned in. Warm. Warm was good. She wanted warm.

Moments later, everything moved, her little body flailing. Everything up, chaotic moment, everything down. Light green everywhere around her, peeling, more color underneath. More warm, much more warm. Glance up, head as big as she was looking down at her. Scared? Curious? Awestruck?

Too tired to think, to tired to look. Warm was good, warm felt safe. Whatever this warm was, it was good, it was safe. She felt safe. Her mouth opened wide, whole body stretched, no sound still. Something wrong, who knows what. Now, it was time for rest.

Rest, and then being shook awake. Much darker, much colder, big colorful warm aside. Once more lifted up, once more lowered down. Big warm stood up, looking at light in the distance. One big step over her, another further away. No, not alone, please, not alone!

Desperation, another try at crying out, at being heard, at being cared for- at last, it works. Can't hear it, but it works. Big warm stops, looks down at her, looks at the light. She runs over, hugs its leg, not alone, please, please-

Lifted up, lowered down. Dark, yummy smell, big warm to her side. Very sleepy. Shaky, confused rest.

And then, this very room, this very human, holding her tight.

The alarm goes off at six.

I love you, Anne.