bottlecaplogs | mist on the grass

It seems entirely too much to be the work of ordinary ghosts or psychic types. Even if there were a group of them coordinating - I have never heard of such an extreme and sustained effect. And over such a vast area, too.

[It makes him wonder if space and time warping isn't at play. But if so, it's far, far more subtle than anything that ever happened in Hisui. The difference is vast enough that he doesn't even believe the theory himself.]

Is there anything like that in the future?

Not like this, at least in Unova. Lostlorn Forest is known for leading travelers astray, sure. [ A half-beat of pause, but no stumble. ] Zoroark are known to reside in the area even if they mostly keep to themselves. And the forests around the centralmost region of Unova can be— odd. But neither of them is really like this.

[ Lostlorn Forest, the forests of the Entralink and the like, those can be handled with the normal considerations for being out in the wilderness. Maybe a few extra considerations for if one presses further onwards, closer to Unova's heart, where the lines between reality and dreams can sometimes blur at the edges.

But that's not the same as what's going on here. Emmet might suspect Musharna or Zoroark or some number of other ghosts or psychics whether Pokemon or otherwise were it not for the reasons Ingo's already mentioned. ]

Wayward Cave can be a little tricky...but, yes, it's certainly nothing like this place.

[That, he thinks, is a property of the cave more so than any Pokemon. There's ghosts around, certainly, but more in the ruins than the caves.]

I cannot help but think it may be connected somehow to our own arrival here...

[The timing just doesn't seem coincidental.]

And yet we have not been given any direction save those from the guilds.

[ Not a disagreement, not quite a lament, just a comment. Unless the weird state of their dreams is related? There are those who are sleeping well and those who aren't ... isn't the polar nature of it not unlike the contrast between — the fuzzy recollections of that bleak void, and the warmth of the voice that found them in it? ]

I wonder. What it is about this place specifically. Is the forest supposed to be difficult to cross on purpose? No way to answer that but...

[ That all of them have found themselves in a place that is, in a way, 'protected' on all sides also seems weirdly coincidental. ]

Well. We can talk as we go, right?

We can!

[They'll just have to move slowly and carefully!

Of course, the downside of the fog is that they cannot see much of their surroundings. There's little to comment on, save for the fog, which they've already talked about at length. Without that help...Ingo's not quite sure what to say. The only comment that's coming to mind is about how this is certainly Zoroark weather, which would be asinine.

It takes a little bit before he comes up with something else.]

...I am a bit glad that we do not have any children with us this time.

Hm? Oh. Right. I am Emmet. I can agree with that, yep.

[ Pause. ]

Not to say that they aren't capable, I mean. But also, purposely taking them into a place like this when we don't know the lay of the land ourselves seems a little ...

[ It certainly does not pass safety checks. Though, the children were the ones who approached them first, so maybe they realized that too, in a way? ]

It does.

[Ingo agrees! He doesn't think anything too out-of-hand has been going on, but even so - he'd hate to be the one bringing them out here.]

They're all old enough to be considered adults in Hisui, at least so far as I can tell. Firepaw's case is a little strange... [Presumably cats also age at different rates than humans!] But even so, they would not be sent out alone on serious tasks!

Still children in Unova, I think. [ It is a little hard to tell with Firepaw, who acts very young in some ways and more like ... a teenager? in others. ] Old enough to be allowed to travel and go on their journeys alone, though. Well, with a partner. If they'd grown up knowing about and around Pokémon, anyway.

[ In a kinder world, where Pokémon and humans are more used to existing around and with each other. ]

But with the way things are, especially when they seem so unaccustomed to what Pokémon can be capable of...

[ Emporio's reaction to Emmet asking Ingo his thoughts regarding that first complication on their trip previous kind of illustrates this particular point. ]

What we are used to. What they are used to. What we expect. What they do. These things diverge. We can try to explain as much as we want. But we are starting from completely different stations. The shared foundation just isn't there.

[ Hearing and reading about it is one thing, but. A lot of these things, they're kind of just learning by way of experiencing it in action, aren't they? Part of Emmet kind of wants to ask whether this is what it was like in Hisui, where people might have been aware of Pokémon but were afraid of them instead. ]

Quite true. I was very lost when it came to wilderness survival, initially.

[Some common knowledge, at least for Clan members, just wasn't there. It's possible he learned and then forgot, but Ingo has come to suspect that much of those skills just weren't necessary in the future. That's...well, it's probably a good ting, isn't it? For peoples' lives to be easier?]

But one can always learn! All it takes is a bit of -

[Ingo has been paying attention. The fog makes it difficult to see, of course, but it's not like he wasn't looking where he was going at all. Still, he doesn't see the drop-off until he's already stepped off of it.

Instinct has him curling into himself, shielding his head and trying to roll. It's a good instinct! But he's only ever practiced falling with a human body. He lands a little awkwardly, and from the sudden flash of pain in his ribs, possibly on a stone.]

We didn't really need it—?!

[ Emmet hastily lunges forward when Ingo starts to fall, of course he does, but he's not quick enough for his claws to close around anything more than empty air as the trailing ends of his words pick up into a sharp yelp, a whine through the click of his teeth as his mouth audibly snaps shut on the final word.

The rushed movement means he overbalances, of course, but he's prepared for that, a split second's forewarning about the cliff's edge still counts— his shadow stretches, and as he goes over the edge as well Emmet lets go of whatever innate instinct it is that keeps him in a mostly tangible, solid form, slipping into the myriad shadows across the cliff face and forest floor. Not here, not here, he needs to be down there—

It's not that far a distance, it turns out. A puddle of intent dark darts its way across the heavily shaded bottom of the drop-off and then back. Can barely see anything in this mist... ]

Ingo? Ingo, are you— how are you doing?

Edited 2025-05-07 03:16 (UTC)

[His flames guttered out in the fall. It's dark now. For a second or two, Ingo lays where he is, taking stock. His paws flex without issue, and he can move his limbs. There's no head pain, and though he feels rather jarred, he's fairly sure his vision's normal. All good signs!]

I'm alright!

[He rises gingerly to his feet, pain flaring somewhere in his torso. He did land rather heavily on his side, he thinks. There may be a small cut, but twisting to try and see makes him hiss a little. It's not broken-ribs pain, but there will most certainly be a serious bruise.]

[ He's responsive, okay! That's good. Not that far a drop. Also good is how hearing Ingo makes it easy to find him, the Zoroark beelining in the direction of the Typhlosion's voice. In clear view of the other, Emmet hauls himself up out of his shadow, hovering nearby and practically vibrating as he looks Ingo over, especially around the ribs, but holds himself back from getting too close. ]

... Accident-prone. [ he tries, smile fixed and teasing. ] Shouldn't scare me like that. Didn't I already say?

[ But, more seriously: ]

That cliff wasn't ... there until we fell off it. Was it?

I apologize!

[Though it wasn't too bad a fall, as things go! Not his fault either, he's fairly sure.]

I don't...believe it was. I feel we ought to have noticed something before walking right off it!

So perceptions again.

[ Uuuuuughhhhhh. Nothing for it, though, unless they, what, somehow get on the forest's good side? ]

Well. That will be fun. You are doing okay, though? Continue on this track, or should we try to find a way back up?

Ah, well.

[Ingo sighs. He doesn't want to be the reason they turn back after so little progress. Certainly, he has pushed through worse than this! But...if they get in a battle now, he won't be the trainer; he'll be one of the Pokemon battling. He cannot support Emmet as well if he's hurt.

Besides. He is starting to feel a little strange. Cold, or...dreamlike, maybe. Like a memory scratching at the other side of that locked door in his mind, except that this time he cannot even see why.]

Perhaps I could eat a berry or something like that...

[One of his ears flicks, and he turns to glance off into the fog.]

[ He's already going through their packs for an Oran Berry as Ingo suggests it, but ...

...? Did Ingo hear something? Hearing, Emmet's found, is one of his better senses now...

But if there's something out there that's caught Ingo's attention, Emmet hasn't noticed it at all. Even glancing towards the same direction, pitching his ears every which way to try to get a better idea of what might be lurking in the fog doesn't net anything of note. Either the uncanny, clinging fog has stifled Emmet's own senses, or. ]

What is it? Did you hear something?

Oh...yes, didn't you?

[The answer is slow and a little distracted; Ingo doesn't turn to look at Emmet. He's starting to feel...strange. All over again, he's becoming aware of the alien sensations of his paws on the ground, the slight movements of air over his fur, the strange new shape of his mouth. But unlike the first few days of being here, those changes feel like they're...receding. He's starting to feel a little more like himself again.

The fog too, is receding. It takes the oppressive sense of danger with it, and Ingo unthinkingly takes a few steps in the direction it seems to have gone.]

Ah, that must be a good sign.

[In reality - literally nothing has happened!]

I am Emmet. I did not.

[ Direct, to the point. The notion of berries is set aside for now, mentally boxed away the same way the satchels are as Emmet moves forward too, coming up to Ingo's side. One of them hearing something the other can't— they know the probable answer for that. Should. It's just a matter of which of them is the one who's wrong.

Or maybe even both. Ingo, lured away by a false promise of safety in the mist; Emmet, blind and deaf to a very real threat that might be lurking just out of sight. These both can be true.

(But Ingo should know better. Even Emmet's own illusions unsettle him. Why is this different? What is he seeing?) ]

What...—?

[ The question catches. The words are sticking. ]

In-go. [ He forces out anyway. ] Ingo. You need to explain what it is you are hearing. Or seeing. What is a good sign? Where are you going?

Hm - oh, the fog lifting.

[Ingo really ought to know better. They were only just talking about checking in with one another. But now, it doesn't occur to him to question what he's seeing; there's an innate feeling of certainty. This is true, just like he can feel something like his true human self returning to him.

His manner's still distracted. The second question is ignored entirely as he starts to move forward. There's other Pokemon out there - maybe even other people. He knows he heard them, almost more clearly than he can hear Emmet.]

The fog hasn't gone anywhere. And— where are you going?

[ For a moment it's like watching his waking daymares from a few months ago again. Emmet hesitates, lagging behind for the space of half a beat, two— what if the ground shifts itself and gives away again due to his haste, what if by barreling forward he springs some other trap laid along whatever path it is Ingo is following— before darting forward to put himself in front of Ingo. ]

Ingo, please. I need you to look at me. I am Emmet. I know that here, it is hard to trust what we perceive. But I have been here with you the entire way. I have not heard or seen anything that you are talking about. And that is concerning me.

[ At least one of them has to be wrong, and of the two— if the fog truly has lifted, then shouldn't they be seeing and hearing the same things? Therefore, ]

I do not believe it is a good idea to progress further down this track.

[The others are calling him. They need his help. They need him, Ingo realizes, and his steps quicken until he walks headlong into Emmet. There's no force behind the gesture, not like he's trying to tackle him out of the way; indeed, even after doing so, it takes several sentences before his eyes focus on Emmet.]

Oh - Emmet. Just a moment, please...

[Trying, in a vague strange sort of way, to walk around him.]

[ There's a whine, somewhere in the back of his throat. The disquiet and concern has blossomed into a very pressing fear. Is that all him, or another effect of the fog? He can't tell. The forest has proven hazardous both now and previously; if he lets Ingo go like this, what happens? He opens his mouth not knowing what he can say and nothing comes out before he shuts it again.

Fine. Talking— talking isn't working anyway. Better, then, for him to do. Hesitantly at first, and then more insistently, the Zoroark takes hold of and tugs at the Typhlosion, trying to pull him along in a direction that isn't deeper into the fog. Emmet doesn't know what lies at the end of theose tracks but he has decided it's time for a different route. ]

Please do not become uncoupled from me.

[Ingo absently allows himself to be tugged along, stumbling a little. The sensation is distant, almost as if it's happening in a dream, or to someone else entirely. Of course that makes sense. It can't be him. How can someone be pulling at his fur if he doesn't have fur? After a moment, his focus seems to drift back into the mist.]

Lost - lost passengers in the station. I need to...

[He needs to call for Gliscor to help. He needs to radio 𝐀⃥⃒̸𝐠⃥⃒̸𝐞⃥⃒̸𝐧⃥⃒̸𝐭⃥⃒̸ ██████ to make a stationwide announcement over...over -

He needs to do something. He can hear them crying out for help! Why is he going in the wrong direction? He starts pulling away, back towards the deeper parts of the fog, though not quite in the exact same direction as before. There's so many of them, they're everywhere.]

[ Why is he remembering something like that at a time like this? (Or maybe he doesn't, and it's just more of the things he says because they're familiar?) For a fleeting moment, it's tempting— so tempting— to let Ingo do what he wants, see if that jars anything else loose—

Ingo pulls back. Emmet firms his grip, growls lowly in his throat at himself, and tugs harder, again in the opposite direction of the deeper parts of the fog. His collar and mane are both lashing around restlessly with his agitation despite his attempts otherwise, making him a flickering apparition of red and white. With nothing else to say, he falls back on oft-repeated words, chopped up and rearranged lines meant for a much different context than this. ]

Please stay behind the yellow line. You cannot assist any lost passengers if you become one of them yourself.

[ Rote repetition, steady as they come. What he does, what he says, always the same. ]

Let's— let's find a safe place to guide them to first. If there are passengers in need of help out there. We can go back for them. Okay?

[Ingo continues to pull towards the fog, but he doesn't seem able to do it with much strength. His legs don't feel as if they're attached to him. It's like he's already in the fog, almost, and he just needs to get that last little way towards the others. So Emmet is able to drag him along for the most part, though he stumbles over his feet quite a bit.]

They...they need help - !

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