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!
Neo didn't turn, but she glanced to him. What she saw drew no conclusions--just a sad smile that could've been real or fake--and she didn't know why she bothered. Back to digging. "Maybe, but I'm not the one turning up after scourge is dusted. What do you need? Shock, terror, horror? Bad diet, if you ask me."
The hole was too deep now for her to keep digging from the ground level. She'd widened the pit enough for some elbow space, so Neo dropped into the currently very shallow grave to continue her work.
She called up to Iskander, this time a bit tetchy, "I said you should've called. I said we could've gotten lunch. Stick around however long you want. At least stay around long enough to eat."
iskander sat down on a displaced bench, and waited with the lunchbox. what did he need? he needed to see if the scourge was winning. that was the promise they had made to him in the first place. they had also promised him the dawn of a new age, and while iskander wasn't one to be precariously perched on the edge of his seat to see if that happened, he was still watching out for signs that their ambition might prove true.
"maybe i just need someone to talk back to me," iskander said wistfully. most of the time he spoke, and people rarely answered. cameron was as good with words as a stunfisk was, while zahir was zahir and nothing more than idle conversation. no one challenged him intellectually, yet, or proved to have a sense of curiosity he couldn't yet handle. neo interested him, so to speak, and he'd only realized it just.
"people usually are frightened after a fight. one or two aren't," he said, remembering thalia again (but hadn't she made a quick escape?), "but i've seen you twice now." what did that signify? time told everything, but iskander had never been so irritable for an answer. he wanted an answer now, and he wanted it quicker than he wanted the answer for the scourge's takeover of kohaku.
he placed two bottles of soda pop by the lunchbox and glanced over at neo. "i brought lunch though," he said, "but that's not quite the same, is it?" he watched her dig deeper into the grave. at that, iskander wondered if she'd just continue digging until she was exhausted, or if she'd stop once it was deep enough to bury mneme. "i'm going to sit here until you're done, neo." he sounded a bit cheerful, slightly more than before, anyway.
At that she laughed--honest-to-god, genuine laughter, although perhaps a bit manic. "Bullshit. Have you looked into a mirror? Pick any club in Nerio. Someone will talk to you."
She stopped digging again for a moment. She seemed to do this entirely for the purpose of a joyless, unimpressed stare at Iskander. Yes, people felt fear after a fight. And yes, they'd met twice now. "Tell me something I don't know, or you're boring."
Her plan was to dig a proper grave, insomuch as she could. The hole was deep enough and wide enough already, if she wanted to leave Mneme only a few inches under the topsoil. Her hands were starting to blister, but Neo ignored that for now. It was just an aching, sore pain, the easiest sort to ignore.
"I hope you brought a book." For the sake of conversation, because she figured he hadn't come here to read, she added, "What was the last one you were reading, again?"
iskander wasn't sure about that. he'd been to places in nerio, none of them really talked to him, though. they preferred the company of his friends; in a group, iskander wasn't nearly as interesting. he lacked the sort of charm needed to keep people by his side; some people effortlessly managed to keep the attention of others -- what was the word for it? charisma? yes, that was the thing he didn't have. couldn't even remember the word unless he thought about it.
"my point is that you weren't feeling fear in either instances," iskander said, "it was something else. the first time there was confusion. maybe anger. this time's no different. why don't you show fear?" he felt that he'd get an answer he didn't want to hear. "did you feel that when you fought cameron?" because he did. "she's scary." as if it wasn't obvious enough. i don't really like her. the words remained trapped in his throat.
the agent watched neo dig. deeper and deeper she went. he wondered when the top of her head would disappear from view; it'd have to be a decently deep hole. he'd help out with his ground-type sign, but he'd reveal that he wasn't what he seemed to be. iskander kept his hands to himself, before reaching into his coat and showing neo his book. a journey to the center of the earth, said the cover, in silver, cursive letters. by jules verne, it said in the same font, just smaller.
"i last read twenty-thousand leagues under the sea," said iskander, "it was about a captain nemo and his ship, the nautilus. but this book," he raised the one he had at the moment, "promises something different. most of it has been disproved since the center of the earth isn't quite what is said in the book, but i figured it would still make for an enjoyable read."
if neo continued to dig to forget her loss, she might reach the center of the earth.
"Anger can be harnessed. Confusion is irrelevant. Fear is crippling." She said it like a mantra, a habit, and then she considered Cameron. "I asked her for advice before the battle, she was helpful. Said I should practice. I thought she'd kill me. Worrying, and problematic because there's much I haven't done, but not terrifying."
She was waist deep into her grave now. Neo climbed out to survey the grave, but found it wanting. Unsatisfied, she dropped back into the hole to keep digging. She wasn't going to manage to put Mneme properly six feet under--her hands would give out before then--but another foot or two... she could manage that.
"I'm sure it will. A good story doesn't need reality. Not sure Batin knows that--or maybe he's all too aware of that."
iskander had already started flipping through his book, skimming the first few pages that promised the start of a fresh new adventure. it wasn't all that new, now that he'd read it a few times already, but what was new was the fact that cameron had actually been helpful to someone. well, he supposed he learnt something new everyday -- it still didn't change the fact that the fight had commenced in usual cameron style. briefly, he wondered if neo had managed to put a dent into rapture before the fight ended.
he read on, and now the characters were planning their way to get into the core of the earth. neo continued digging, and he glanced up when she climbed out, only to resume his reading when she entered the hole again. not quite done, it seemed. maybe she wanted a deeper grave for mneme. something that wouldn't wash up a scourge corpse after a bout of heavy rain -- or rain dance; you never know with trainers nowadays.
"so far it's pretty good," iskander said, flipping through the pages until he reached an illustration, before going back to where he had been reading. the agent glanced up from the pages. "batin?" he tilted his head, watching the dirt fly from neo's shovel. "is that your pokémon?" as a follow-up, he added, "or someone you know?"
"An acquaintance" she replied, not willing to share information with Iskander. She felt vaguely bad about that, because she would've warned even the likes of Stefan or Nima about Batin without a second thought. "Someone that likes stories."
She climbed out of the hole again, and this time the grave was deep enough that getting out was a bit of a hassle. Neo threw the shovel aside, and looked down at her hands. There were blisters all over her left palm, and her right hand--still in bandages from Iskander's jaw--looked even more battered than before. She looked to Mneme's corpse, or the Thing-That-Was-Mneme's corpse.
"Can I ask a favor? I think I'll need help moving the corpse to the grave."
She could probably just dump the wobbuffet corpse into the hole like an armful of firewood. She felt like she should lay the body down gently though, but right now, even the shovel felt heavy.
"I'm tired," she admitted, surprised at the realization. "Exhausted, really. When did that happen?"
iskander blinked, and nodded. he didn't press the question; he figured that if neo wanted to talk more about batin, she would have. zahir was a strange person, but iskander and he got along well. they probably weren't any more than colleagues (he didn't know if their relationship was in the friends category, though they certainly were friendly to each other).
he nodded a second time as he walked over to mneme, and looked at its melting form. iskander wasn't sure if it was safe to hold, and so he asked neo, "is it safe to hold? it is a dead scourge pokémon." he did attempt to lift it up, though, but it was apparent that he wasn't sure if it was safe to do so.
"once you realized it, it happened, neo." iskander prodded mneme's limp arm, or what was left of it, anyway.
"It's not going to explode on you, if that's what you're asking. Otherwise, I don't know," she replied. She generally didn't use gloves or masks or any protective equipment when she worked with... well, anything. Bad precautions, Professor Cypress and his pokemon would lecture her to no end, but she just didn't care, not beyond keeping clothes clean and the lab neat.
She grunted a reply--she meant to say well, being tired sucks, but she ran out of energy to bother speaking up before she even got started. Nevertheless, Neo went to Mneme's side as well, available to help if Iskander needed it. She felt like a ragdoll though, and the pokemon's body weighed like lead.
Neo still had the energy to brush his hand away from Mneme's arm. "Their bodies rapidly decay into goop. Don't poke the corpse, it might rupture."
They needed to lower the wobbuffet into the grave, which was a surprisingly easy affair. After that, it was just a matter of replacing the grave dirt.
iskander was solemn as he nodded, and helped neo place mneme into the grave. it didn't take much combined effort on their part; what neo lifted was minimal, and the agent did most of the heavy lifting. as soon as mneme was in, he stood near the shovel and offered to replace the dirt.
"i'll do it; you can take a break."
she seemed tired, lethargic, even. iskander wasn't sure what it felt like to have to bury someone he loved and dig the grave on his own. maybe filling the grave up again with dirt would help a little; the shovel was unnaturally heavy in his hands as he lifted it. he started refilling the gaping hole in the middle of bellona hills, bit by bit. throughout, he was trying to recognize the feelings neo must have felt: sadness, for losing a friend and valuable partner; anger, for the one that killed her; maybe there was something else.
did people feel happy?
they did want other people to. neo had wanted mneme to feel happy when she died.
maybe neo was happy then. happy, because mneme had died in her sleep.
She was going to say no. Well, she was actually going to say fuck that, but instead she nodded and sat down--crumpled, really--where she stood, by the grave.
She focused on her breathing. Long, steady breaths. She didn't sound shaken. She wasn't shaken, really. Just burdened with a sense of loss. Neo had assumed there'd never be a time to mourn if any of her pokemon died. There hadn't been before. Before, it was only running, surviving. Basic instinct took over, higher function would be saved for later when she had the luxury. Yet here was the time to mourn. Was that even a luxury? She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, nor what she was supposed to feel.
Neo watched Iskander shovel the grave dirt.
She believed Cameron punched him--or at least someone had. She wasn't so sure about him having lost pokemon, or even ever having them.
Tiredly, but otherwise without any particular inflection, she asked, "What was it like when your pokemon died?"
iskander paused mid-shovel, before continuing his rhythm as if the question hadn't just shaken him out of automated movement. what was it like when his pokémon died? they had all died at some point in time. he didn't remember what he felt the first time he saw one of them die. he didn't remember the second time, either. but he remembered that through all those times, he had never buried any of them. he wasn't allowed near the dead bodies. said he'd catch something from it, said he'd smell something bad and have doctors all over him in a matter of seconds or hours.
it was horrible when his pokémon died, then. he didn't know if his pokémon had died happy. he couldn't answer that question. the last one had turned into a scourge pokémon and told him about their dream, and that he should see them succeed. he didn't believe it as wholeheartedly as cameron would. he didn't believe it as wholly as any of them did. he just wanted to stand on the sidelines and watch.
the dirt continued to fill up the hole as the silence did for their conversation.
then iskander stopped, and turned to look at neo. he blinked; she seemed tired. would her answer to the question be 'tired'? perhaps not, he thought, then spoke.
"i don't really remember. it wasn't a very strong feeling, i guess. i couldn't even get close to it before it tried to claw at me. it's like a feeling of defeat. you've seen that thing grow from nothing to something, and all of a sudden it's gone and it won't listen anymore and it's trying to kill you and yet you know it's confused somehow so you want to forgive it, but then someone comes in and ends your pokémon's life and you're pretty sure you're angry at that person, but you still feel a sense of defeat in your body.
"... it's like someone put their hand here and tore open a hole."
he pointed to his chest, then went back to shoveling.
the hills were silent, but iskander wondered.
did she want a blow-by-blow description of what had happened during his loss? or did she want to know his emotions back then? oh, the human language.
She mostly just felt tired. And empty. Neo supposed she could call that a hole. It seemed like a different sort of hole that Iskander talked about though. It didn't hurt. Wasn't she supposed to feel anguish? Wasn't she supposed to feel regret or pain? Wasn't she supposed to feel? She just wanted a nap--a long one, with warm blankets and a big pillow and maybe a good book with a happy ending.
Neo nodded, not in understanding but in the acceptance of new knowledge. "That's nice of you. I didn't want to forgive Mneme. I just wanted her dead. Done with. Over. It was something I had to do, so I did it. It wasn't easy though. It should've been. Doing the necessary should be easy, shouldn't it? There's hardly room for internal conflict. Kill to be killed. No room for regret."
Any other time, and Neo likely would've seized the chance to drill Iskander for details, just to see if he'd do anything but smile. This time, it wasn't a priority.
Emotionless--analytical, rational, as if questioning a hypothesis--she asked, "How do you know that hole wasn't there to begin with?"
iskander dug, lifted, filled. dug, lifted, filled. over and over again, until he finally came to an answer he was satisfied with. "if a hole is empty," he said, finally completing the task and stabbing the top of the grave with the shovel as if it were a stake, "then it would mean that the hole wasn't there in the beginning. maybe. because suddenly i felt empty and there was this pain that i couldn't explain."
the agent moved about the place, searching for a white rock or some sort of uncommon rock to place atop the makeshift grave. neo hadn't asked for it, but he felt that he should go the extra mile. maybe get some flowers, but an area infested by scourge wouldn't have flowers, he thought. iskander turned back to neo.
"But an empty glass is empty. You could fill it up with later, but the natural state of the glass is still emptiness."
Neo wondered what he was doing after he left the shovel in the ground. It took a moment before she realized he was looking for a grave marker. That was nice of him. She hadn't thought of that. (Did that make her a bad person?)
"Maybe. Feels more like a vacuum than a hole. Bottomless pit--all the love and pain in the world can't fill it up."
Pulling herself up to her feet, which was a harder task than it had any right to be, Neo moved over to where the lunchbox was and sat down again next to it. She moved to open it, but then glanced at her hands. For having dug a fresh grave, they were relatively clean. Relatively.
"Did you bring napkins? Or is there a sink for me to wash my hands? Or a shower. I could use a shower."
