After months of inactivity, the Pokedex folder gets a handful of entirely new entries.

At first, they’re the a return to the norm: focused sketches of the subject, notes on their anatomy, and then a readout of conventional battling information, observed behaviors and needs. Incomplete entries are made on Cranidos and Porygon, which are then followed by a full breakdown on Magnemite.

Updates and new species make an occasional appearance, and then the subject pivots ever so slightly.

One after another, pictures of pen or charcoal sketches are added, but they lack any informative content entirely: pages and pages are filled with drawings of Pokemon, presumably made for fun.

If one were to look back, they would actually see the first signs days prior, in the head and long neck of a raptor whose body is overlapped by the entry on Bastiodon. The bird’s eyes are large and vacant, and its mouth is agape, depicted in the middle of a screech. In spite of that, it doesn’t look scared or angry. Screaming just seems to be its default state.

Later, that picture is seen in its entirety, filled in on a scrap of paper left over from something else. The raptor is sitting down, the talons poking out from its plumage resting near its feet, and its tail standing straight up in interest. It’s a ridiculous looking creature, though that might be down to the way the artist chose to position and depict it.

He’s gotten orders better since the first blobby attempt at a Bergmite; pen control doesn’t seem to be an issue any longer, and a recognizable style is beginning to emerge in those instances he isn’t directly referencing his subject. It is clear when he’s filling in the gaps from memory or making an educated guess-- the lines are less certain in those cases, doubling or tripling up to get the effect he’s after, leading to a darker, bulkier finished product.

The new additions to the Pokedex folder are a mixed bag of precision and improvisation. Another example-- a Cyndaquil curled up on a pillow, flames extinguished and fast asleep-- is rendered with the characteristic precision seen in later Pokedex entries, the only visible discrepancy the gap left to add in the bandages wrapped around it. This would be in direct contrast to a lumpy, trash-studded collage of a Pokemon with happy eyes and teeth like a bear trap, or two sets of interlocking gears, ambitiously depicted to meet one another at a right angle, where their tines can mesh without issue.

Sometimes, both styles are present in the same drawing, as is the case of a draconic Pokemon lying on its side, its arms clumsily posed to hold a much smaller bug to its chest. The posing is rough, clearly conjured without physical reference, but the details are filled in with an excruciating care, and the result is charming in the end product.

There are a lot of these pieces, only doubling up once each of the foreign Pokemon has had its turn, and the artist has clearly taken his time with all of them.

It’s unlike the device’s owner to spend so much time resting; this behavior has only been recorded once before, over a year prior.

---

Sabi surprised me twice over this afternoon. I should have expected her visit, considering I’ve had the electirizer sitting idle in my bag for over a week.

I wonder, did she try to point me away from venturing into the distortion? Did I simply not notice? She’s never been particularly forthcoming in how her visions work, so it’s just as likely that she didn’t know what was coming, either. She certainly did know that I’d been laid up for the past few days, however.

I’m not sure if it was her idea of a joke or if it can be chalked up to the fact that she’s eight, and thus thinks like an eight-year-old, but she accepted the electirizer while she was here, and then turned to pull a Rowlet out from under Lord Braviary’s wing. Well meaning though the gesture was, it’s not the most helpful when I’m already trying to acclimate Cyndaquil.

I still don’t know what to do with the Scyther. It would be one thing if she’d only attacked me, but I’m not entirely certain I can curb her violent tendencies, given the reaction I inspire in alphas.

Was it simply due to the circumstances, or is it a facet of her personality?

Is it even safe to release her into the Hisuian wild?

I’ve had entirely too much time to think on the matter, and still don’t have any answer to speak of.

---

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.

The first notable detail is that, wherever the caller is, the air is still. The second is that, in spite of that, it’s not at all quiet. Dozens of small noises come across, from the content crackling of a fire to sleepy purring, to a rummaging that continues as the caller speaks up.

“I hope it’s not too unpleasant if I leave my device on speaker for the time being. While my test walks around Clamberclaw have been uneventful, I want to prepare before the commute to Jubilife, and will require the use of both hands for the crafting that entails.” Glass clinks against itself as he says that, and is then set down against wood. The pouring of water is audible, a sharp chop, and then a muted splash as something is submerged.

There are three long slices, and then repeated, careful chopping, “Truthfully, I don’t have anything to say that I haven’t already shared with you a dozen times over. I think the solitude has just been wearing on me, and so any semblance of human connection helps-- moreso than usual, at least. Considering how long I’ve been calling you, I can’t exactly blame that on my recovery period.”

A second spell of splashes can be heard-- smaller plinks and plunks in rapid succession-- and the water swishes around. The sounds seem to halt for a moment, but the telltale tear of a berry’s rind gives the game away.

“I know it’s frivolous to keep it up. Unlike our text correspondences, there’s absolutely no archive of these calls, and no feasible way for you to hear what I’m saying. I’d be just as well off thinking out loud.” There’s a soft ripping of pith, a firm chop and the sound of liquid filling a jar, “It just… helps. The ritual of speaking into a receiver, as though someone might hear me one day-- as though you might hear me some day in the far future.”

Water swishes again, and then the small pieces of plant life are deposited in the jar of juice. Glass slides against wood, set off to the side, and the methodical tearing of leaves begins.

“Is it delusional to keep that mindset? Is it an ideal I’m better off relinquishing? On some level, it seems that the harsh truth is that I’m stuck here, but with time, I’ve begun to believe there is still hope, no matter what.”

Eventually, he picks the knife back up and carefully carves away at something. There’s another firm chop and a series of slices. As that’s set aside for the time, the process of peeling a berry begins anew.

“Maybe it’s a personal problem; without you here to hold me in check, I simply can’t stop hoping, but by the same stroke you’re precisely why I can’t stop. The recursive nature is a little funny when you think about it. In a very similar vein, it has to be funny, or it’s unbearably sad instead.” Once the second jar is filled, he moves on, plucking leaves more delicately than before. The knife strokes used this time are smooth, almost fluid. After a moment, he adds something to the glass jar again and stirs it.

There’s a shuffling sound, and something new is added to preparation area. Jar, then jar, then chopped vegetation, then jar again are added to a larger vessel and left to rest.

He shifts in his seat and sighs. It turns into a small, rueful chuckle, “I used to wonder if I’d lost my mind-- if something didn’t happen after we parted ways, and the entirety of Hisui wasn’t just a dying dream. In a roundabout way, incidents like last week’s are helpful where that fear is concerned. One would imagine it would be difficult to die while already in the process of doing so-- though sheer incompetence can never be ruled out entirely.”

Nearby, something hoots, and wings beat briefly. There’s a feathery thump and, gently, Ingo says, “Ah, don’t disturb that, please. I still need to strain and divide it-- and I’m relatively certain Calaba’s instructions didn’t include Rowlet down.”

He goes quiet for a moment. The sounds around him continue.

“Don’t give me that look.”

There’s an indistinct sound, but it definitely signals swift movement. The lone human in the room yelps, and then exhales heavily. “As much as I appreciate it, please be gentle. He was only curious what I was doing.”

Rowlet hoots again, completely unharmed, but muted. There’s an answering hiss of a snicker from nearby.

“As you can tell, standard operations have resumed,” Ingo tells the device, affection clear in his tone, “We’re well on the way to getting back on track; a couple more days to see things settled, and I should be able to make the commute.”

There’s a pause, and then the device is picked up again.

“Even if you’re never going to hear this, I love you all, and miss you in ways that words simply can’t describe.”

---

Several snapshots are taken days later, each of them depicting the dark bubble of a space-time distortion. One is above in the Highlands, taken from an unusually low vantage point, and another is far off in the distance, the colors suggesting it occupies the boundary of the Crimson Mirelands.

Most, however, are caught along the trip through the Obsidian Fieldlands.

It’s unclear whether the increase is the novelty of seeing them in a different landscape-- if, until this point, the photographer simply didn’t try to capture them all in his home territory-- or if it might be something else.

It’s possible that, perhaps, they’re occurring more frequently.

---

It seems Rotom has grown rather attached to this device. I made a detour to the photography studio in order to let it depart, but it refused. It’s difficult to blame it; knowing the alternatives, it can be… difficult to adapt to Hisui’s technological level.

There’s no harm in letting it stay.

🤗

...that wasn’t me.

Rotom, please don’t do that.

😭

No, no that’s not what I

Can we talk about this face to screen

---

The trainers you passed most recently are:

Pokemon Trainer Charm

Notes (private): It seems she was one of those individuals who immigrated to Hisui to join Jubilife Village. According to Captain Sanqua, she was one of her Construction Corps members, and had numerous complaints about the way Galaxy Team ran their organization. She hasn’t been seen in some time, and it’s assumed that she deserted the village. Her name is Tabitha.

Pokemon Trainer Coin

Notes (private): She joined up with the Galaxy Team’s Agriculture Corps for several months, and seems to have left earlier this year. The assumption is that she returned to the Pearl Clan, but obviously that isn’t true.

Pokemon Trainer Clover

Notes (private): While she was unaffiliated with Galaxy Team itself, she did business here on behalf of the Ginkgo Guild. As was true of her compatriots, she seems to have sought out a life elsewhere. I’ve been informed that she joined the guild using the name Kandrake.

---

Diamond in a Rough Spot: A Diamond Clan woman called Kandrake and Lady Sneasler’s warden-in-training Sadorn have both vanished, unable to be tracked down even by Lord Ursaluna. Could these disappearances be connected? COMPLETE

Highway Robbery: You can confirm that Sadorn is alive and ne’er-do-well. Report this information back to the Pearl Clan, and see if you can’t dig up anything about her compatriots. Galaxy Team might be able to tell you more. COMPLETE

Miss Fortunate News: You’ve identified both Sadorn and Kandrake as two of the individuals lurking around the Highlands. They’ve long since moved on, but it’s only right to fill the clan leaders in on what you’ve learned.

---

Rotom’s motivation for starting to record is unclear, and the fact that it both can and will film its device’s owner without his knowledge raises ethical questions that will have to wait for another day.

The video begins mid-discussion, capturing two men’s backs. They’re not far from the Diamond Settlement, at the shore of Lake Valor, presumably to lend some semblance of privacy without delving into the wilderness. As usual, they speak in Hisuian but, strangely, while theirs is the only activity in the area, the Arc Phone slowly pivots away toward the Cloudpool Ridge, leaving their voices as the only metric to work from.

“—the description you’ve provided, I’m relatively certain it was Miss Kandrake.”

There’s a long silence.

“I’ll have to look into it myself.”  Says Adaman, his voice conflicted, “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just on principle, you know? As glad as I am that she’s not lying dead somewhere out there, that’s… really disappointing to hear.”

“I can only imagine.” Ingo says, sympathetic.

In the foreground, a pair of Rhyhorn race past and scurry into their den.

“Thanks for bringing this to my attention. It wasn’t your responsibility to begin with, and especially now, no one would’ve expected you to bother.” He forces a laugh, “You really are wasted on the Pearl Clan, you know.”

There’s an uncertain hum as Ingo, presumably, tries to find a diplomatic response which doesn’t also throw his adopted clan onto the tracks.

In this one specific context, what happens next is lucky: he doesn’t have to worry about an answer.

Captured perfectly by the wayward Arc Phone, lightning splits the sky, arcing unerringly from the crack atop Mount Coronet. Though it strikes some distance away, the entire frame goes white as it lands, followed near instantly by a deafening crash. Unseen, the men startle violently. There are screams and shouts from the settlement not so far away.

“What… what just happened?” Ingo asks as the both of them unknowingly hurry into the frame, casting about for any clue.

“I don’t--”

As if in answer, a cry sounds from the peak of the ridge.

Adaman’s tone immediately changes. “That was Dredear. You should -- no, there’s no time for that. Come on, we’ll get to Brava Arena faster with the two of us.”

Setting the initiative, he starts off first with Leafeon at his heels, and Ingo hesitates long enough to pluck Gliscor’s pokeball from his belt and release it. A grimace pulls at his perpetual frown as he hurries to catch up.

Despite Adaman’s concern, there are no Pokemon that try to intercept them as they make the hasty trek up Cloudpool Ridge, but there is a shout from a woman, who goes tearing down the arena’s steps to speak with Adaman in frantic Hisuian.

Along the edge, the illuminated form of Lady Lilligant is impossible to miss.