A pair of photographs are added to Miscellaneous. It’s the mountain that has been depicted in the past, the camera looking up from somewhere just above its base. Two waterfalls pour down the side, framing the mouth of a cave and the bridge that leads up to it; on the plateau above, a small grove is visible, if only by the very tips of the leaf-laden branches. High cliffs stretch even further above, where, in the far distance, the mountain’s peak is capped in snow.
The second picture is of the exact same subject, but blurred in a way that one wouldn’t know what they were looking at unless they had seen the first image. Coincidentally, a video begins not long after.
---
“-top, stop, I know this station belongs to you! It’s my intention to depart post-haste!”
The camera swings wildly, its owner unaware that he’s hit the record button in his escape; he’s wholly unconcerned with proper cinematography. A red and orange shape pokes out of the long grass, and two blank white eyes briefly flash into visibility before the camera moves again. The camera operator turns abruptly, putting distance between them just in time to dodge a spray of yellow spores.
As he flees, the lens tries to focus without success, but it’s plain to see that the blur of a Parasect is giving chase.
In all the commotion, his thumb hits record for a second time, and the video ends.
---
The very next photo is filed under Pokemon. The photographer is standing on the bridge that had been on display earlier, looking up, presumably at the ledge he’d been forced to vacate.
That theory would be supported by the Parasect staring down with an incredible amount of contempt, considering it’s a creature lacking any facial features or visible irises.
While this angle could certainly be helpful when it comes to researching the species, that doesn’t seem to be the only motivation-- not when there’s a hand unintentionally poking into the bottom of the frame, the edge of precisely one finger demonstrating that the animosity between them was mutual.
---
Species: Crobat (Alpha)
Location: Coronet Highlands Cave
What I know: Poison/flying type. Partnered Crobat evolve from Golbat when they build a strong enough bond with their trainer. Unless it has a hidden ability, it should have Inner Focus. Crobat in particular are said to be an indication that a trainer with a harsh exterior is a good person deep down. I’ve been teased in the past (my past, at least) about adding one to my team, ostensibly for this reason, though it was quite clear that it was actually because Crobat tend to fall into a rather severe frown while resting. I didn’t think it was a bad idea, personally; it would save Chandelure the constant exposure to Earthquake on the Doubles line. My input was no longer appreciated when I made that observation.
Notes: Sneasler was adamant that I not encroach upon this specimen’s space as we passed through. It may be that, due to their respective types, she doesn’t have any moves that are particularly effective against it, but the same holds just as-- if not more-- true for her encounter with Gligar, and she bested him without issue. Regardless, if Sneasler is concerned, I won’t press the matter.
Species: Bronzor & Bronzong (Alpha)
Location: Coronet Highlands
What I know: Steel/psychic types. Bronzor will evolve into Bronzong with proper training, and their most common abilities are Heatproof or Levitate. These Pokemon are somewhat like Klink, in that there’s there will be ongoing debate as to whether ancient civilizations took inspiration from their form, or the Pokemon somehow adapted to resemble a more modern invention. One theory posits that they had a mirror-like shine in centuries past, but if that happens to be true, then the shift happened prior to this era. As many of their ilk, both Bronzor and Bronzong are unable to be classified as male or female.
Notes: They were aggressive, but no more than any other Pokemon I’ve encountered. They attack at both short and long range with Extrasensory.
Update: As usual, an exception can and will be made for the alpha’s aggression, which might best be described as "implacable".
Species: Unown
Location: Coronet Highlands
What I know: Psychic type. Unown aren’t thought to evolve from or into any other Pokemon, but have at least 28 distinct forms, corresponding to characters from the shared Galarian and Unovan dialects; which preceded the other is a matter of some controversy. Their only ability is Levitate, they lack a gender, and they’re quite unique in that the only move they can ever learn is Hidden Power. These are considered some of the most mysterious Pokemon known to humankind, and it’s said that strange things happen where they congregate.
Notes: It didn’t engage with me and didn’t make any attempt to hide. It actually seemed like it might have been stuck on the wall. I would have made an effort to investigate, but Gligar and Oshawott both needed direction, and I was being pursued by a Parasect again.
Species: Carnivine
Location: Coronet Highlands
What I know: Grass type. They aren’t known to evolve from or into any other Pokemon, and their only ability is Levitate. As the name would suggest, they’re carnivorous and lure prey directly into their wide mouths with a sweet smelling nectar. While it’s able to consume prey immediately, it can take over twenty-four hours for it to actually digest its meal.
Notes: The ones I encountered were quite aggressive, but lacked the speed to serve as any real threat. That said, they do have some ranged combat ability in Energy Ball.
---
I’m beginning to believe the alphas hate me, specifically. We crossed paths with an alpha Bronzong during our ascent, and it pursued us ruthlessly. No Pokemon acts that way toward Sneasler; the only difference is that I was with her.
She was at a rather horrendous disadvantage, both in terms of typing and in that she was in the middle of climbing a cliff, so I convinced Gligar to help distract it, and forcibly restrained Oshawott from attempting to do the same. On the bright side, once we reached safer “ground” we were able to collect a, frankly, frightening number of the mushrooms that grow from the cliffs here. I have no idea what they're for, but Sneasler was intent on them, and after all of her help, I couldn't say no.
We’re resting for the night, in what I take to be Sneasler’s den. I don’t think it’s what she’s been trying to show me, but we’ll find out imminently; I’ll update you when there's more to report.
The attempt at mending my coat failed on the journey here, by the way. I don’t think it’s worth retrying at this point in time. When the stitches tore out, they damaged the fabric and made the hole bigger. Fixing it may be possible if I can get some scrap fabric to create a patch, but until then, I’m afraid it’s going to have to stay as it is.
It’s a shame, because Mount Coronet is quite a bit colder than the Fieldlands. The kimono top is thicker than my dress shirt was, but the chill seeps in regardless, even with two layers of protection.
I should try to sleep, and let you return to whatever it is you should be doing right now. I love you. Goodnight.
---
The camera turns on and immediately tries to adjust to a strange lighting situation. Where the operator is standing, it’s rather dim, but natural light pours in from somewhere above. When the angle shifts to get a better look at a crack in the ceiling, it becomes clear that this is a very large cavern.
Strangely, as the camera pans down, the floor is not only flat and even, but in the center-- where the light can easily reach-- it boasts the same brickwork captured in the previous day’s landscape photography.
“It seems this is what Sneasler was so eager to show off.” Says the usual voice, and sure enough, Sneasler is perched on a mound of loose stone off to one side, watching the human as he looks around.
He himself drifts to the right, turning the camera upon the walls. Threading through the grey stone, there are thin deposits of a sparkling red ore set too deep in the wall to inspect. With only their bare hands, all a person can do is admire it.
“It’s amazing, but slightly… off-putting.” He explains, one hand tracing along the line of it, “I recognize that veins of ore are completely distinct from circulatory veins, but it’s almost like these have a pulse of their own. While it’s difficult to know what, precisely, to make of them, it’s quite obvious that they’re important.”
Turning away from the wall, he lingers briefly on one of the torches lining the perimeter. This one is standing on its own power, but the same can’t be said for the rest. Several are leaning against the walls and one has tipped over entirely.
On his way to the other end of the cavern, Ingo rights those fallen torches that can stay upright, and stands next to the one with a broken leg, looking back at the entryway. Orange banners catch the current of air sweeping in from the mouth of the cave and out through the crack in the ceiling.
He stoops to lift the torch up over one shoulder, sacrificing the recording long enough to take it to the entrance where it can be dealt with-- it’s doubtful that anyone will, however. The state of it says that, like the last noble’s domain, no human has visited here in some time.
Once the torch has been propped up, the focus turns to the banners depicting a stylized Sneasler in profile.
Between them is a slab of solid stone, its shape like a plastic building block, but with two divots opposite one another; judging by the way their colors contrast the altar's main body, both have been washed recently. One of these basins has been filled with water and the other with greenish mushrooms.
“I think she might have brought me here to perform basic maintenance.” He says, craning up to take a look at one of the lanterns hanging from a banner. Not only has the candle burnt down to nothing, but there are singe marks on the metal. “It’s simple enough, and she’s done so much to help me already. Taking the time to assist her is the least I can do.”
Just before the recording ends, there’s a faint, “You would understand, wouldn’t you?”
---
Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.
It’s incredibly quiet. So quiet that, at the first hint of a sound, it echoes back.
“I believe I’ve done something to offend Lady Irida and the Pearl Clan.” The caller says, contrite. His footsteps ring all around him as he begins to pace. “I just-- I don't know what; I don’t have the context or the words. What little Hisuian I've picked up isn't enough to ask the questions I need answered, and so much of what they've said already has been lost on me. It's not my intention to frustrate them or make them repeat themselves, I just... can't understand them."
He stops walking and, wherever it is he’s ended up, the faint whistle of the wind is briefly audible. He begins again and it fades away.
There’s a warbling “woooooooott” and the pacing stops. Something slides against stone. A “sha-sha-sha” gets louder, and then abruptly becomes muffled. Anywhere with even a semblance of background noise, it wouldn’t have picked up, but fingers begin to scratch through dense fur.
“Assisting Sneasler seemed like the right thing to do; she immediately perked up when I cleaned her offering dishes, and wouldn’t leave me alone while I mended the torch and cleaned the lanterns. By technicality, I suppose I did steal some candles, but given that they were clearly the same as the ones that had burnt down and that Sneasler led me directly to them, it seemed self-evident that I was putting them to their intended use.”
A pair of wing beats sound, and then a streamlined landing as talons tap gently against stone. Gligar clicks from somewhere nearby.
“Are… are you serious?”
More clicking.
In spite of his evident anxiety, Ingo gives a subdued laugh.
“Come here, then.”
The audio changes very slightly as the phone is set down. The scratching starts in stereo.
A dull-- very dull-- thump can be heard.
“I miss you so much that it feels like an open wound.” There’s another chuckle, but it’s entirely mirthless this time, “And I should know, shouldn’t I? Hopefully, you’re doing better back home, but were I in your position and you vanished without a word...”
He lapses into silence for half a minute, unable to finish that thought-- or maybe he sits with it, but is unsure how to express what he comes away with-- before changing to a slightly different track, “The burn is doing better, at least-- you’d be happy to hear that. It doesn’t stick when I change the dressing anymore, but it does still twinge when I breathe too deeply.”
It seems there’s not much to follow that, and so he doesn’t even try. He’s reluctant to hang up just yet, though.
Eventually, clawed footsteps ring through the quiet, echoing as intensely as his rubber-soled shoes.
“Er-lea? Nee wah srrkck.”
Rustling sounds in either direction and the scratching abruptly stops, presumably in response to Sneasler’s chattering.
“I need to go now,” Ingo says quietly, “Hopefully I’ll have better news when I message you this evening.”
Click.