Sneasler had one problem and no Warden.
These two matters may have been connected to one another. They may, in fact, have been one in the same.
Sneasler had one problem and no Warden.
These two matters may have been connected to one another. They may, in fact, have been one in the same.
To be fair, the absence of a Warden wasn’t the sticking point; she was perfectly happy on her own. The real issue was the fact that, because she didn’t have a Warden, the Pearl Clan thought it was their job to provide her with one.
Sneasler liked humans well enough– she wouldn’t look after them if she didn’t– but if she was going to be stuck with one, it was going to be on her terms. Half the candidates weren’t suited to the task, and the other half weren’t suited to her disposition. She was a Noble Pokemon, after all. She had Noble standards.
The Pearl Leader either didn’t understand that Sneasler had the matter in hand, or refused to believe it.
In one of the days following this discovery, an idea came to her, offered– in a sense– by one of her kits. It wasn’t a solution. No, it was something naughtier.
When she was next confronted by Irida, Sneasler mimicked the conduct she’d watched in the Pearl Clan. As they presented their potential Wardens, she, too, presented Irida with her candidate: the mushroom cake her kit had stolen off one of the traders.
Irida had not been amused, but Sneasler? Sneasler thought it was great fun!
Every time she was summoned to the village, she brought a substitute and made a show of picking it instead of whomever was trying their hand with her. Really, why did any of them want to be her Warden, when the turnover rate was so high? She would pray to Arceus to sooth the souls of the bravely departed Wardens Mushroom Cake, Sand Radish, Tumblestone, Pop Pod and Snowball.
One would think they would take the hint after she picked a stalk of bugwort over the clansmen, but alas.
So… maybe Sneasler had set herself up for failure. Just a little.
Because she had, in fact, found a fitting human. She’d even found him during a foraging trip into the Icelands! Clearly ‘Almighty Sinnoh’ shared her sense of humor, and had put this one there for her!
But Irida, upon spotting her, sighed, the motion visible even at a distance.
“Did you need help with something, Lady Sneasler?” She asked, resigned, as Sneasler gingerly doffed her basket.
Her passenger made an indistinct, questioning noise. It should have been muffled by the wicker. It wasn’t.
(And wasn’t that perfect? So long as her hearing was intact, she’d never lose this one. Two litters in, and she’d learned that a clumsy kit was something to be watched, but a sneaky kit was something entirely more worrisome.)
Irida’s eyes went wide, and she glanced, haltingly, up to the Noble. When Sneasler made no move to intervene– only to present the usual sardonic bow– the girl relaxed. “I see. Have we graduated to Warden Bergmite, then?”
And, with that, Irida flipped the lid off of the basket.
Sneasler’s human flinched away, back pressed to the far wall. His head decoration had fallen to his lap at some point during their trip, and, at the unexpected brightness, he raised a hand to shield his eyes, mouth pulled into a pained grimace.
Irida stared for a moment and then, numbly, looked back to Sneasler.
“That’s… not a Bergmite.”
She chuffed a laugh and hefted the basket without closing it, snorting affectionately into her human’s hair.
Of course he wasn’t a Bergmite. He was her Warden.