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Snowpoint City is true to its name. The starlight throws every falling snowflake into sharp relief and every step makes you dizzy as you walk, unwilling to tear your eyes away from the sky. You pass through several shimmering sheets of light and dust the piles of snow they leave behind from the shoulders of your coat absentmindedly. Every awed breath that escapes you comes out as white fog and the world fades away nice and neat, leaving you prey to the elements. And the pokemon.
It's a moonless night. A hand beckons to you from the shadows.
Of course you follow it.
"Are you stupid?"
"Hmm?" Dreamy and dazed, you don't hear her voice at first. "What? Oh."
The Haunter laughs behind its hands and it makes you smile. "Cute pokemon," you tell her.
She rolls her eyes at you, then pretends she didn't. "Obviously. Where's yours?"
The flash from your pokeball is accompanied by its custom seal: ominous purple clouds mimicking poison. She looks impressed. You are oddly pleased about it so when your Crobat blinks twice and turns to use you as a headrest, making you look tiny in comparison, you let it slide. The Haunter copies, settling down on her golden hair. Crobat beams at it, pointed teeth gleaming.
"Cute pokemon," she says and smiles back. This almost brings you to tears. You can't believe it's finally happening. You've been waiting for this moment for years.
"Do you want to hear about my favorite pokemon?" you say, fast and shaky. Crobat preens.
She tilts her head. The Haunter goes with her and Crobat copies with its ears. You notice the color of her eyes for the first time because there's a glitter in them, a light, something odd and fathomless and strangely familiar. She looks entranced. You hold your breath.
"It's Crobat, huh?" she says, then. "Yeah, sure. Only if I get to talk about mine."
That's all you need. You are ready to give her the fifty-eight page manifesto on why Crobat is your favorite pokemon, the best pokemon ever, the loveliest, most darling pokemon in all of existence, baby pictures included. This is the essay that got you full marks on your application to Professor Rowan, then got you booted out of his office and hustled out of the labs by his longsuffering assistant soon after. You have written and rewritten it, refined it over every step of your journey and it was all for this very moment.
"Wanna sit down?" you squeak. This is really happening. "You have to be sitting down for this. I have a folder."
"Just come inside then," she says.
And you follow her in.
She makes you tea with honey. It's poisoned. You can't believe you get to meet the girl of your dreams so soon. Her eye twitches when you ask for a third cup but she pours you one anyways, going heavy on the honey to cover up the taste of even more poison, a whole extra spoon. She's perfect. She's an angel. This is the best life of your life. Fifty-eight pages later, she starts talking about her favorite pokemon, Gengar. You lean forward and absorb every fact and as she gets more and more animated, her Haunter begins to copy her hand movements. It's the cutest thing you've ever seen.
The poison starts to take effect so you don't think its odd at all when she offers to trade you her Haunter. You just go along with it. Haunter's pokeball is polished to perfection and satin smooth in your palms. Your Medicham dances and little bells chime at its wrists.
"How charming," she coos and waits for you to do something. Haunter grins at you when you let it out, still a Haunter, and hands you a stone. It's a lovely stone, a stone that means forever. You know what to do at once.
"I do," you tell her, soft and solemn. The occasion demands a little more respect so you sit up straighter and nod, trying to keep your head from floating right off your shoulders. "I do."
You keep the everstone as Haunter disappears into its pokeball with a little giggle. Your Medicham dances, taking delicate steps until it stands behind you, perfectly at peace with life as usual. It's time. When her hands touch yours as she hands its pokeball over to you and you hand hers back, you try to guess her ring size surreptitiously.
"I want a winter wedding," she announces before releasing Gengar, who shakes off layered haloes of light and grins.
Gengar expands to fill the living room, shadows swirling as it tries on different sizes. Crobat moves to use it a headrest and falls right through.
As expected.
"Anything for you."
Then you think about it a little while longer.
"We're having a poison-themed wedding right? Purple?"
She raises her eyebrows at you. It's a silly question but she indulges you because you're still poisoned and you're allowed to ask silly questions when you're poisoned.
"Of course we are. And I want a nice rock for our wedding ring."
You'll get right on that.