#???litwick

The little ghost’s mouth gaped as his gaze followed the dark that loomed over him. Though whether it was because of his flame or the fact the other pokemon was a ghost, there was no shadow over him. He went to quickly turn away and run but there was a quietness to the other’s voice that made him turn back. Squinting again at the odd shade, one that was much different from him and his home.

“O-oh... I’m not sure what you could mean by that... but well, there is a name.” He said quietly, almost imitating the other ghost’s hushed tone, like they were sharing secrets even though they had just met. “But I feel like it belongs to another. I-It’s unimportant now...”

The flame shook what snow off of his head that refused to melt, the other pokemon’s large body giving him a break from the cold waves that beat him to join that he walked on. His sorrowful expression finally becoming cleared from the white of that snow as he looked up again.

“I’m not sure if I should take a name. I am alone out here, who would even remember my name? Who would come here and care about a lost spirit like me?”

The little flame started to sink into the snow under his own heat as a soft sigh joined the gentle breeze.

“I just need to find this... feeling. Then maybe I can rest.”

A light fills the darkest and deepest piles of snow. It’s blue hue shining through the depths that has piled on with countless snow storms. Howling winds burying the past deep in mounds of impassable snow as frigid ice seals layer after layer. Permanently holding anything below to be frozen in time. But that light held heat, it’s form struggling to rise from it’s bleak grave. The snow gave way to more white, it’s shape that of a fire type but colored much like the snow. It shivered but not because it felt the cold winds passing by, but looking back down it’s grave there was a body. Black and beaten, clawed and trampled. I could see that the small Litwick felt a closeness to this body, whether it was the soul that burned his blue flame or... He looked away, his sight not but going as far as his flame held in this dark night. Unlike most mothers, the forest wrapped it’s cold winds around the small flame. Opening his mouth for a breath was only met with a choking spike of cold being sent into his core.

It seems the forest was kind to him in another way though, those howling winds and bitter, pelting flakes were at ease this night. It was his birthday after all, but the spirits of this forest cared little for such days. For being born in a forest this unforgiving is akin to being sent to an afterlife. You’re here forever. Your feet always sinking into the biting cold as the wind tears at your skin. Supplies never easy to come by, these dying woods grasping the smallest and weakest and dragging them down for it’s own survival. Nothing so small could survive here anymore. There are too many corpses already polluting the soil with their stench and rotting.