This world is inhabited by creatures that we call pokemon. People and pokemon live together by supporting each other, but now the scourge threatens the safety of the entire region. Kohaku has become a dangerous place, where children stay at home and only brave souls go adventuring.
Welcome to KOHAKU. Come for the nightmares. Stay for the tea and crumpets.
The season is SUMMER. It is easy for survivors to forage for food from the land, as there are entire abandoned farms ready for harvest. On the downside, you can smell the corpses.
swarms
GRAND OPENING !
Welcome to KOHAKU REGION's grand opening! If you're interested in joining, come check out our grand opening giveaway!
This was not his usual dream. His usual dream featured more screaming. This wasn't even his unusual dream, which tended to be quiet and empty, peaceful in the retreat of dark solitude.
Orwell didn't know what part of his psyche conjured up a candlelit yacht littered with rose petals. On second thought, he hoped it wasn't any part of his psyche at all.
He took a quick walk around the boat, a habit now upon reaching a new enclosure, looking for anything that hinted of bloodshed or violence. It was paranoia, in a fashion, but the only thing he feared was Kristoph making a guest appearance.
There was nothing there. This was literally a boat with a romantic dinner for two.
ignatius had hoped this was some conjuring of methuselah's; his dreams with her were often fraught with oddities and strange happenings wherein she melded the library to her will and performed great feats impossible outside of dreams. he walked through the boat silently, hoping to catch a glimpse of her just so he could reassure himself that he was going to wake up soon -- but as soon as he saw the breeder, he realized that this dream definitely did not have methuselah in it.
in that case, why the elaborate setup? nothing could have led to this other than a twist from fate itself.
"breeder," he greeted the other person with the only way he knew how to address him, "why have we met in a dream?"
a dream, because he knew this wasn't his. he didn't dream of such things, not even when things were happier in the past.
"Researcher," Orwell responded. He wasn't sure if they ever exchanged names. It didn't matter much, anyway. "I don't know."
He was not the best judge of character. He did not, in fact, often bother being a judge of character. Still, it was easy enough to conclude that this was probably not Ignatius' dream either. Everyone had hidden facets, true, but this one would be particularly hidden.
"Shame we did not meet at my breeding farm. The time wasted here would be more useful to you."
The time wouldn't be too useful to Orwell either way.
ignatius smiled. "are we to sit here until we somehow awaken, or something happens to us in this dreamlike state?" he asked, looking at the table. "in the meantime, we may as well eat. who knows how long we're going to be stuck here."
if this was a mystery meant for him - the both of them - to unravel, it was unnecessarily elaborate. bringing them together under the pretence of valentine's seemed more like the entire reason they were here, instead of a chance meeting wherein they seemed to fit into roles out of sheer coincidence.
"We could end this very quickly if we committed a double suicide." It wasn't actually a suggestion. It wasn't quite a joke either. It was just the truth.
Orwell sat across from Ignatius at the dinner table. "I suppose we shall."
The Dream World provided something to eat. Orwell couldn't identify it; he was no expert in anything culinary. Some sort of raw fish. There was alcohol too, which Orwell declined to examine.
"i don't think these knives are viable," said ignatius, "but it's a sound idea." dying was the quickest and shortest way to waking up, but he didn't fancy the idea of drowning. it felt like a lot of trouble to go to just to avoid this entire set-up.
ignatius identified the food as edible, and that was all that was to it. he ate, but found it relatively tasteless. perhaps it was because it was a dream that it felt like he wasn't eating anything at all. he set down his fork and knife.
"ignatius grimm," he said, extending a hand for formality's sake.
"They're viable." Orwell could tell that at a glance. He lifted the knife into his hand. It's a steak knife, better for sawing than stabbing. It wasn't much of a murder weapon. "If you'd turn around, death could be quick. Strike to the back of the neck into the lower brain. I'd have to drown myself afterwards."
Orwell paused, realizing that the topic wasn't the most suited to dinner conversation. "We should discuss something else over dinner."
He took Ignatius' hand over the table, and Orwell's handshake was gentle at most. A politician would find it weak.
"no, i'm a researcher. hearing these kind of things is fine by me." ignatius returned to his survey of the meal. nothing had changed while he looked away. so this land worked differently from the darker one, then. there, things were more volatile. "but if we had to do that, i'd rather get struck than to drown. i don't like water all that much."
he pushed his plate away and took the bottle of wine. white wine. it didn't pique his interest, so back it went to where it once was.
"what would you like to talk about?"
neither of them felt like people suited for conversation, but in a situation like this, it was almost as if they were supposed to.
Orwell shrugged. "And I'd prefer not to murder anyone, so instead we dine. I've had worse dreams."
Worse dreams, yes, but perhaps not more awkward dreams. This one took the cake for two men not knowing what to do. (Orwell was plenty aware what direction the dream wanted them to go. They likely wouldn't go in that direction.)
"Something practical. Failing that, something mundane. How goes your research?"
(the rolls would likely not go in that direction either, if it came down to that. the odds would be absurdly stacked against it happening.)
"so-so. staying in proserpina has paid off rather well, but i do want to at least get to a different city some day. the farthest i've went was ceres, and then di manes -- because of the anvil. farther than that, i haven't bothered. perhaps we could take a walk in silence and one day see nerio city."
"Proserpina has been safe. I was in Ceres during the scourge attack. Not the best place for a breeder to be, not one like me anyway. I'm sure Lady Mercedes would be fine in the same situation."
The storied anvil had created Hisham's miraculous shield. Maybe he should linger in the caves a bit longer then. It seemed like it could be worth his while. "No PC in Di Manes. Would be a limited research experience for you. It would be wiser to meet in Nerio. Or both."
"i left ceres before the scourge attacked. i went back at a later date with another breeder to fight some scourge.
"there may be leftover scourge waiting to strike in the caves. so, how about we walk through di manes, reach nerio, go to a pokémon center and have that research experience done. in the meantime, we could visit the anvil in the vulcan depths."
"I was in Juturna," Orwell said. And then he wasn't, and only Kristoph was. "I decided to move on after the fighting seemed over."
Scourge in the caves didn't seem entirely unlikely. He wasn't sure he'd want to have company if he ever ran into one. Then again, company would at least help his chances of survival.
"I'm in Di Manes at the moment. I'm at the lake, but we can convene at the Anvil. Around noon tomorrow? We should arrive to Nerio in the evening, assuming we don't spend too much time at the Anvil."
"i haven't gone past the first few chambers of the cave, but i'm certain i can make my way to the anvil without too much issue. the anvil's a source of interest recently, with its weapon-making capabilities. i'd like to try it out myself sometime."
company was something ignatius welcomed in brief bouts. a travel companion was a good idea to tide through the more boring bits of expedition and plain walking.
"Follow the heat," Orwell advised. It wasn't the most useful advice if you were only in the first few chambers, but once you were deeper, you could always err in favor of the warmer route to get to the Anvil.
"Weapons give people confidence." Orwell shrugged. "I'm not sure why."
