What's a story without its villains?

FIGHT ITEM POKéMON ► RUN

  Resting her head on her left hand, Vivian let out an agitated sigh. Scowling at a patch on the floor she drummed her fingers on her leg with her free hand. Catching sight of a pair of feet coming closer she let her eyes flick up to study their owner. Studying them as they passed, she quickly established that they were not the person she was waiting for.

With a roll of her eyes, she yet again swept the entrance hall still unable to pick out the man she was meant to meet. He was late and she was getting rather irritated, not to mention bored. Chewing the inside of her mouth she resorted to staring holes in the floor again. A “simple information drop” - that’s what they’d told her when they sent her on this waiting game. “You’ll fit right in at a Pokemon Contest” - she still couldn’t figure out what that one meant. Of course she’d complained about it, she had too much to do, but - “It has to be someone higher up, the intel is too important”.

Too caught up in her own misfortune, Vivian didn’t take notice of the man approaching her until he was speaking to her. Lifting her eyes to meet him she couldn’t help but jump at the sight of the man. He certainly wasn’t the man she was waiting for and he certainly didn’t appear to fit in here. But who was she to judge a book by its cover?

“Um, no… no, I’m not,” she answered hesitantly, eyebrow raised, “…Alright, I’m meeting a friend but if we’re quick about it.” The scowl on her face, still firmly in place she held out her hand for the paperwork. She was stuck here so she may as well do something useful.

“I must say, you don’t fit into the norm of those who usually enter this kind of thing.” Vivian hummed, giving him a questioning look.

Tsk. She didn’t come here to enter, getting her to stick around was going to be difficult. Guess he had no choice but to stay with her for a little while. Maybe if they got a semblance of an amicable interaction, she would at the very least stay at the Contest Hall to see his performance. Maybe even follow him backstage. Then she would be easy to pin the blame for the disappearance of the Altaria on.

Yes. Perfect.

It didn’t take long after his initial - lack of a proper - greeting before Vivian pointed out the obvious by stating how he stuck out like a sore thumb. He dismissed the claim in a chuckle.

“Is there really a problem with my looks? As far as I know, contests have the reputation of being more inclusive than the League.“

He swallowed up an opinion on the matter that would risk ruining the charade if it got out. Literally anybody could pretty up their Pokemon, so he didn’t get why so many people made asses of themselves in such ways when battles, even when they were obstructed by all these pointless rules, were on their own at least a clear and objective display of a Pokemon’s worth already. Of course, he had to play his part and bear with it for now...

Along the way, maybe he could see if the Aqua indeed possessed anything worth stealing.

"Well, not like I am one to talk when it comes to judge on appearance. I may be old fashioned, but I assumed a pretty young lady like you would enter. You ought to have something that puts all these old ladies’ Skitties to shame... Maybe some rare species like a Gardevoir? Well, not like it matters, even if you do choose to enter at the last minute. I am pretty confident my Sneasel and I will bring the prize money home.“

He ended his discourse with a self-sufficient smirk which he hoped would bring to his story some additional credibility. If he was forced to be seen anywhere near a contest hall, he might as well be exceptionally good at fitting in despite his appearance. The cash that came with the ribbon seemed like a good enough alibi to pin his presence upon.

He came to sit at Vivian’s side, and shook the blank application paper under her nose.

  “Of course, let me get that right away.” He quickly stood and moved into the kitchen, though it was right next to the living area so he could still hear and talk to Quentin there as he prepared the tea. But soon after he had made his apology and an offer for an explanation he found he had been joined by the other in the kitchen anyways. He glanced over as he waited for the water to boil in the kettle, feeling a bit of unease from.. something about Quentin he couldn’t quite place. His tone, his smiles, the way he was speaking to him.. something.. something felt off.

“A point..?” He seemed genuinely confused and maybe a little agitated. “About what exactly?” He pursed his lips, watching the kettle intensely as he didn’t want to direct his animosity for his former leader towards his friend. “Lord N had a compassion and love for pokemon that I continue to respect, no matter what befell him after what happened. If Team Plasma had been led by him alone, perhaps I might still be there.” Ghetsis.. his hand was like a poison, twisting a well-meaning organization and using it to his own benefit. He was no lord of his.

He finally glanced to Quentin again when he mentioned his mother. So that was how he found where he was. He might have to ask his mother not to give out his location to just anyone; Quentin was fine, but if someone more malicious had found where he lived so easily it wouldn’t end well.

He got out a tea pot, two cups and a packet of roserade tea. He placed the packet at the bottom of the tea pot and once the water boiled he poured that in as well and let it steep. “It’s peaceful. There’s a strong connection to nature and tradition here. I feel like it’s a place you would like.” The lack of a league presence in particular he knew the nurse would prefer.

He sighed. “I feel you have another purpose for seeking me out like this. While I harbor regret for leaving you and my other colleagues behind without a word, I have no desire to return to Team Plasma–particularly if it is still in Ghetsis’ control. My mind is set on that matter, and nothing can be said to change it.” His gaze intensified on his tea pot, his grip on the handle of it tightening. “I respect you Quentin, but I don’t understand how you of all people can stand here and tell me that monster of a man ‘had a point.’ You surely must not have seen them. His pokemon..” 

He grits his teeth. “I cannot forgive how that man uses them as though they’re only tools to achieve his selfish whims.. It’s disgusting.”

Quentin bit his upper lip. Now here he was, avoiding his old friend’s gaze. He could but only understand the scientist’s reaction, and he shared it entirely. Being one of the only nurses on board of the Frigate, he remembered tending to the injuries of his Lord’s Pokemon more than once. What disgust he felt, finding on the body of the old man’s Bouffalant and Toxicroak marks that couldn’t possibly have made by a battle against another Pokemon.

"I knew you would react like this, but I need you to hear me out. For a bit longer at least, I need you to understand: I do not agree with Lord Ghetsis’s methods, nor would I ever. And you know I will never change my mind on this.”

Ghetsis truly was the very embodiment of everything Quentin hated in a trainer; there was no more despicable a human being than the one he had to get used to as his King. And yet...

“He is the only person in Unova who could finally rid us of the current status-quo.” Quentin continued. “He is a monster alright, but he is powerful, and sheer strength is the only way we have to finally throw off this dictature of the strong over the weak the League has been forcing onto us for generations under the guise of healthy competition. After seeing how happy everyone in Alola is, how could you not wish this for your own home region?!”

The nurse stopped suddenly. He walked over to the tiny window of the kitchen. He made sure it was shut, and let an ear out for any suspicious creaks elsewhere in the house. Maybe he was really being paranoid, but the fear of a member of the Shadow Triad stalking him on his unauthorized vacation was a lingering one. He added in a low voice, almost a whisper:

“If Neo-Plasma succeeds, everyone, human beings and Pokemon alike, will be equals, though under the rule of a tyrant. But then nothing will stop us from coming together to overthrow the tyrant in question, and from there Unova will finally be the paradise Lord N dreamed of.”

And now, he could finally get to the very reason of his presence here. He grabbed Damian by his shoulders, his eyes locking onto his.

        NOW THAT SHE’D brought it up , dusk was fast closing       in on them, turning the sky from the murky g r e y it had       been , thanks to the c l o u d s of autumn, to a venitian       blue . darker, yet darker everytime he looks at it… help-       ing him delve into the back of his mind , thoughts jumb-       led  , disconnected somehow in the wake of all things       that had happened recently . he’s thinking too h a r d       && too much too frequently …  it’s been a recent thing       of h i s that he’s  presumably adopted as a personality       trait - he’s a l w a y s  liked to contemplate and think       ( part of it relates to his passion as an intellectual with       the abiility to think quickly ) but this is  a  b i t  m u c h       sometimes  …  he’s considered much more than just       gym battles lately .

      HE’S INCREDIBLY BORED - though battling would       always be a part of him and inventing would  never       cease to be his passion ,  he’s finding that they are       both growing a little bit dull  compared to his jour-       ney he’d just laid to rest and finished …  he suppo-       ses he misses the emotion and w h a t it means to       go on a journey . he cannot apply that to his regu-       lar daily life anymore which upsets him… it’s only       present on his f a c e for a single fleeting moment ,       however ,  before furrowed brows r a i s e and he       smiles , though weakly and without feeling con-       tent .

      “  don’t worry about it - and you know what ?? the            stars remain the same WHEREVER YOU GO .            that’s what’s so reassuring about it-  ”

      A SMALL PAUSE before he continues , just like she       had before .

      “  …looking for something- ?? yeah , i guess you            COULD SAY THAT . are you ??  ”

Curious... She expected to revile the very idea of companionship as long as she would stay in the Kalosian capital, but yet Charlène thought herself somewhat grateful the young man decided to linger some more by her side and chat. Perhaps the reason his presence was in no way a source of irritation lied in his young age, or his rather prestigious reputation...

“What a smart boy you are, to speak a prose so pretty and yet so true!... Quite unexpected if I may say.“

Having said that, she immediately covered her mouth with a single hand, stirring the little Ghost Pokemon in her arms from his slumber as she moved. Misanthropist she might have become, this was no reason to forget her manners. With a well-meaning giggle, Charlène corrected herself:

“Oh, excuse me if I sounded rude, of course. I’m a biologist myself you see, and let’s say I know by experience the literary fiber is one rarely found in the scientific type. Well, not that I do not work to my best efforts to avoid seeming too dull a conversational partner.“

As she spoke, the tiny Gengar jumped out of her arms and seemed to beckon her for something. The woman dug a hand in the pocket of her coat and dropped a few pieces of wrapped candy into his little claws. The Pokemon proceeded shuffling closer to the edge of the river with his loot, and began cramming them down his enormous mouth one by one.

"But enough about me or the stars for now. I can believe I indeed appear to feel blue, but I’d say you are no better in that regard, my friend. Am I wrong?”

Now, after a few extra minutes of thinking, she could put her finger on the source of this uncharacteristic sympathy. Charlène couldn’t help seeing in Clemont the shy and reserved child she once was, well before she found her solace in her work for Team Flare.

It’s probably just me projecting onto him when we are most likely nothing alike, part of her had to agree, but I certainly won’t deny a tale of experience to someone who could use it. Especially someone I’m sure Lady Malva would judge redeemable.

  It had been so long since he’d last seen his old friend. He knew Quentin cared a lot about pokemon, and that was one of the reasons he hadn’t minded being around the other. Quentin had grown on him. “Yes, of course. Come in, please.” He opened the door more, allowing Quentin to pass him into his home. He looked to Quentin, growing a bit more tense when he mentions Zinzolin. He glanced outside the door a moment before closing and locking it for good measure.

The home kept the traditional style that made Malie City so reminiscent of the Johto region, and it was almost completely immaculately kept. Of course, Damian was quite a neat freak but when he had his pokemon out whenever he came here, it was hard to keep everything absolutely perfect. Another peculiar thing was that the place wasn’t particularly personalized, which could be attributed to Damian just doing simplistic decoration but it was as though he didn’t stay here often.

He pursed his lips. He had hoped.. what he discovered would be exposed and thrown wide open after the raid by the gym leaders. Surely Quentin would have been as distraught by it as he was. But he hasn’t kept up with any news coming out of Unova and had no idea what fate befell Plasma that day. A part of him didn’t want to know. “So Team Plasma is still in operation then..?” he muttered.

He invited Quentin to sit in his living area with a small movement of his arm, promptly taking a seat himself. “It is good to see you again. If you’d care for some tea, I could make some up quick.” His brow furrowed, as he wasn’t sure if he called him a deserter in a sarcastic tone or if he had taken a personal jab at him. “I’m.. sorry for leaving as abruptly as I did, and I understand if you’re upset with me. I owe you an explanation for why, and my sincere wish is that you might understand my reason.”

He followed his friend along, a slight, somewhat melancholic grin on his face. Of course, he could tell Damian didn’t actually want him there - him as a person or the part of his past he represented, it was hard to tell. How typical of Damian, for even the few people he tolerated enough to be called friends to get no exemption from his tendency to revile the very idea of human company.

As he sat at the coffee table, the nurse was offered some tea, which he gladly accepted with a quick shaking of his head, a Thank you and a vaguely muttered comment on how exhausting the flight from Hau’oli turned out to be.

Damian disappeared in the adjacent room, surely the kitchen, to prepare their beverage, and after a brief silence, Quentin heard the other expose his apologizes for suddenly disappearing from the face of the continent. He allowed himself to rise up and join his friend, this time offering a smile that didn’t transpire much bitterness but rather a genuine wish for them to patch things up. All the more to bring about an opportunity to bring up his ulterior motive, which he had to assume Quentin already would infer by himself soon enough.

“Ah. I don’t really blame you for leaving, really. I considered leaving too for a time. I mean, at the time we just did what Lord N did... But after a while, I decided to remain. Of my own will, in case you wonder. I just thought Lord Ghetsis had a point.“

He laid his back against the doorframe, exploring the small kitchen with a quick glance in every corners.

"I already know why you couldn’t refuse this job, really. Your mother seemed really proud of you when she told me about it.” Another pause. “So? How has it been like? Living in Alola, I mean.”

@meanesttrainers

Continued from: Here

Alayne just stares tiredly at her new self-appointed stylist as the other woman launches into a lecture about the evils of coffee. Of course, Alayne had heard that caffeine could cause premature wrinkles since every so often an article about it would pop up in one of the few fashion magazines she reads. Not that she ever paid much mind to it. Coffee had always been an essential part in creating a functioning human being out of the zombie that she was first thing in the morning. Maybe if she was a little more vain Alayne might consider it, but she wasn’t- so the coffee remained.

“Charlène.” She repeats her name both to make sure she was pronouncing it correctly and to help burn it into still muddled brain. For a fleeting moment, she considers telling Charlène about the fact that she actually had never heard of her or her family name. Yet, automatically dismisses the idea. She seemed like the type to be insulted by something like that, and there was no reason to insult the woman who was offering her a makeover. Even if it was one that was suddenly sprung on her and came with a round of insults about her appearance.

“Alayne. Way.” She adds her last name almost as an afterthought. It seemed so plain when compared to the Kalosian’s, but at the same time, it seemed more honest. Not that it mattered much. What mattered now was shopping.

“Shall we?” She asks, already turning towards the shop door.  

“Alayne, Alayne... My, quite adorable name you have there. I’ll make sure to remember it when I tell all my friends about my stay in your region!”

She nodded, repeating the name several times to make sure she would remember it. She was horrible at remembering names, but hopefully she could avoid herself the embarrassment of having the other woman suspect she actually didn’t care about her. How terrible for both her own image, and for the eternity of terrible fashion tastes a separation now would doom that girl to.

“Bien sûr ma chérie, follow me! I’m going to give you such a makeover, your friends will think you are the first human being to ever display the ability to evolve. And in that case it will be a grand pleasure for me to be the one ridding you of your inner Everstone!“

She wasn’t halfway done with her monologue when they entered the little shop. Charlène warmly returned the owner’s greeting, and proceeded to look into the piles of second-hand chiffons put in huge baskets. She had arrived at one labeled something in the region’s language she didn’t take the time to translate, but assumed it was something like holiday attire and traditional outfits.

“My, how Exotic! As expected of those countries of the far east. Your thrift stores make some of my hometown’s boutiques look so bad, I really should get some pieces for myself as soon as we are done.“

The shop’s owner was attended by two Banettes who were floating around, making clothes fold and levitate back into place as soon as Charlène was done inspecting them. But the Kalosian seldom had the time to care about such ingenuity, or the fact it seemed the Ghost types’ owner had embroidered some beautiful lace-y patterns on the back of her Pokemon.

FIGHT ITEM POKéMON ► RUN

  It was a day off for Damian and he was actually at his home in Malie City for once. He’d usually just stay at the Aether Foundation for sake of convenience, but for now he had a bit of a break. He was considering spending it doing his own research however. But for now, he was relaxing with his pokemon with a cup of tea.

Every one of his pokemon were out of their pokeballs–his araquanid took up a lot of the couch while he lounged, his magneton floated nearby him, his joltik found a comfortable spot in his button-up shirt’s front pocket, and his scraggy sat across from him at the table with his head barely poking up behind the table while he ate a snack that Damian had made for him. Everyone was fairly content, which is how Damian preferred it; it was the sort of serene atmosphere that brought a rare, soft smile to his face.

The sound of his door buzzer cut through that atmosphere like a sharp knife, and it definitely startled him and Louis a little. His brow furrowed slightly. He certainly wasn’t expecting company, nor was he expecting any packages. He swiftly rose from his chair to the intercom, swiftly followed by both Louis and Eugene; though Adeline came along for the ride anyways in his pocket. He pressed the button and sternly asked, “Who is it?”

There was a silence at first, but the voice that finally answered him was not one he was expecting to hear. “Quentin,” he uttered to himself. What was he doing here? Or rather, how did he find him? He didn’t tell anyone at Plasma where he was going, or even that he was leaving in the first place. Well, either way.. Quentin was a good friend while he was there. He didn’t find his presence at his home to be malicious. He pressed the button again, his voice taking a slightly softer tone than before. “Just a moment.”

He sighed. “Sorry, I promise to spend time with you all later,” he said to his pokemon, recalling them into their pokeballs and replacing them on his belt. Except for Adeline, who looked like she would be upset if she couldn’t stay in his pocket. He then opened the door to greet his old friend. Or would he still consider him as such after his abrupt departure? 

“Quentin.. What brings you all the way to Alola?” 

Calculating, straight to the point, always going for efficiency with every choice of words... That was the secret behind the eternal impression of perfect professionalism in literally any setting he’s ever seen his old colleague in, including the most casual ones.

“Hello to you too. Seems you’re doing well.”

While the first sentence he addressed him lacked any kind of warmth or joy at the perspective of a reunion, Quentin couldn’t help smiling. Good to know a year of separation was not enough for his friend to no longer be the same Damien he knew.

“May I come in? The reason of my presence isn’t really one I would want to discuss where anyone can hear us... Well, not that it matters to me, but you know how paranoid Master Zinzolin can be about information leaks. I can’t tell you for sure I’m not being observed.”

Maybe he was the one being paranoid there, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of someone from the Shadow Triad having followed him after noticing he took his unauthorized leave. If he was getting in trouble at his return in the Frigate, he might as well exert as much caution as he would in an actual mission.

The nurse allowed himself to pass into the corridor. Looking around, the home seemed to be in fashion to the others he had seen in Malie. Quite the cozy interior, so relaxing Quentin had trouble believing it really belonged to a workaholic like his old friend... But then again, he most likely didn’t get to use that home all that much now that he worked for Aether, did he?

@meanesttrainers|| STARTER CALL !!

      IT WAS MELACHOLY - he never really spared time to       reflect because he’s a busy ‘ man ’ . always inventing ,       always defending his honour as GYM LEADER … but       this time , the lake in lumiose city was his destination .       h o m e . he feels at home , && at peace   …  a l o n e ,       though not LONELY .

      WHEN THE O T H E R approaches , though she may       not be walking towards him , but more to see the lake ,       he d o e s  n o t feel like she’s interrupting anything …       though he has found himself momentarily distracted       - he wonders w h a t she’s there for ??  is she coming       here to contemplate things , too ??

      SMALL TEALK , CLEMONT .

      “  the lake is always so nice , don’t you think so- ??  ”

How incredibly different Kalos became, in a mere few months since she moved to Alola. It was like the city entirely metamorphosed. Of course, with Lysandre and so many of his patrons and affiliates losing everything overnight, this was bound to happen. The uncouth rising against the elite, the guise of a world that is more fair turning her beloved region to a nameless Chaos...

Oh how rotten this world was.

As she walked down the street, occasionally staring at the stars’ reflection onto the oily hues of the lake, Charlène tightened her hold on Tomain. The small Gengar was comfortably dozing off, cradled in her arms.

She was interrupted in her reverie by a voice. She turned her head to see who had called to her. A boy, it seemed, and none other than the Gym Leader of the city. That wouldn’t be her first time seeing him in the flesh, but maybe it was in her best interest that he wouldn’t recognize her as one of that dear Sycamore’s aides... She could hardly dissociate her sudden resignation from the laboratory with her former affiliation with Team Flare.

“Nice... I guess that is the word, indeed. I don’t think I’ve ever thought of another description in the many years I’ve had to see this.“

She let out a sigh, turning her gaze away from the young man and back toward the lake, her hand began scratching the top of her sleepy Gengar’s head.

He hated Hoenn. He didn’t hate it as much as he hated his native region, but he certainly hated it the most out of every places he’s had the misfortune to be dragged into along the years. Now, Zaltis wasn’t one to enamour himself of anything, no matter how charming the landscape, but there was places he didn’t care about, and then there were those he couldn’t dissociate from horrible experiences.

His previous trip didn’t go so badly in the beginning. He managed to get himself quite a few valuable specimens you didn’t find on the Tohjo continent from a certain number of Team Magma grunts, considerably filling his personal Pokedex, and he could even get a prime present for Executive Kobalt. But then, when he ventured closer to the eastern cities and got to deal with members of the other cheap Rocket-wannabes around, his stay had taken a turn for the worst. While most of the pirates were about as easy to rob of their very rare valuable beasts as their turtleneck-bearing counterparts, it took exactly one of these idiots fighting back with their Sharpedo to inflcit upon him a most humiliating defeat that got him a lifetime of an array of fang marks upon his left thigh.

So when he came again to the tropical region, this time with the express purpose of stalking some famous coordinator, steal her valuable Altaria, and leave a letter of blackmail from Lady Ariana where she could find it, Zaltis felt particularly inclined to stray away from his initial goal, would it be just to get back at Team Aqua : Any member could pay, it’s not like he reminded what the guy he crippled before that Sharpedo caught him off-guard looked like.

He found such an opportunity when he arrived at his destination, the contest hall of Verdanturf; a young girl bearing the familiar corsair disguise was waiting in the lobby. He would make sure to make her the ideal scapegoat and then maybe snatch a few of her own Pokemon on his way out.

The Agent knew he hardly played the part his plan involved - who would believe an obvious roughneck would actually be into showing off how pretty his Pokemon was? - but that was a gamble he was willing to take, now if only he could trick her into entering as well...

He put his hands in his pocket, mentally patting himself on the back for his decision not to wear his uniform for once, and nonchalantly waltzed toward the young woman.

Charlène loathed those days where she was stationed in one of the many Aether outposts of the region. As if a tiny boring island like MeleMele even needed so much effort. Wasting her time dragging injured Pikipeks around and undergoing so-called investigations of Team Skull’s activities... What a waste of her time and efforts, when she could be helping the President with more experiments on the breaches.

Deep breath. She readjusted her glasses. Reminded herself it was all for the sake of keeping up the foundation’s image. That it would all be worth it when the President’s project would finally come to fruition. It was not like this mission was the worst one she was ever given, she was assigned far worse tasks back when she worked for Team Flare! And at least, MeleMele, beyond being some forgettable tropical sight that had nothing on her father’s private beach in Southern Kalos, had a wonderful piece of what she’d call proper civilization: Hau’oli City!

That was no Lumiose, but she needed to work on that pickiness of hers anyway, so what’s best to try blending into the local lifestyle than learning to take down her own expectations? She wished her subordinates a pleasant evening and left for the town as soon as her shift was over.

She explored each and every shops of the mall, realizing along the way she might have been too harsh in her earlier judgement, since she did find a few quite luxurious places. Touristic region oblige, she thought. One of the boutiques even specialized in fashion specifically fitted to Pokemons! And Charlène couldn’t resist wanting to buy a hat for Gristouffe, her recently evolved Persian. The poor thing couldn’t stand out due to his lack of Shininess, now she wouldn’t be a proper trainer if she let him remain like that!

But alas! While she was distracted, trying each hat, ribbon and bell on herself before deciding which one she would let her cute little kitty wear, something - a small Flying type she would assume - distracted the Dark type, and out of the shop and into the crowd he ran.

Charlène, naturally, ran after him, but within the crowd, the grey cat was easily lost. She proceeded searching for him, until she found herself with no other choice than looking outside of the mall. She was no luckier, but surely, she believed, the first trustworthy-looking stranger she met would be able to help her.

And she found just the right person: A young girl. A pretty adorable one at that. At least, Charlène knew she wouldn’t grow irritable speaking to such a cute child.

It was hard for him to explore Malie without feeling washed over by a certain nostalgia. Quite unexpected, seeing how this was literally his very first time coming to Alola. Though a reason for such familiarity seemed obvious enough. The archipelago no doubt benefited from its proximity to both Unova and the Eastern continents, and this city was a perfect melting pot of both cultures that wasn’t without reminding him of his few years in Johto.

Of a simpler time.

Quentin let out a sigh as he shook away the warm memory of his childhood in Olivine City and decided himself to move. He checked the screen of his Xtransceiver for the address he worked so hard to find. His only solid lead to start seeking him out.

The new Team Plasma cared very little for deserters. Most of them were harmless and couldn’t possibly do any prejudice to their new project on their own. They were traitors, and the Sages expressed much satisfaction at the idea of the weaklings weeding themselves out.

But that wouldn’t deter Quentin from wanting some of his old companions back. Not a single person he once called a friend remained after that fated day where the Legendary Dragons faced each other. And yet, he was still entirely assured of one fact: He wasn’t the one who had to doubt of his own resolve. He wasn’t the one being foolish for remaining at Ghetsis’ service. They were. They were and he would prove them why.

Going on without companions was hard. And even more so to him, who wasn’t even a trainer anymore. Risking the Sages’ ire for an unprompted absence from the Frigate would be worth whatever punishment would await him, if he could at least bring him back.

Finding the house was simple enough. As was pressing the button of the intercom. Really, the hardest part of his self-imposed mission was to finally decide himself to respond when the long drawn beeping was finally replaced by a familiar voice inquiring for his purpose.

He let two seconds of silence settle, before he finally responded into the machine: