Work Text:
Cynthia was famous for being Sinnoh’s Champion--the best battler in the region, until Dawn took her place. So, it was often thought that if Champion Cynthia could talk for hours about something, it would have to be pokemon battling, right?
Right!?
Dawn wished.
Cynthia liked to talk about battling, sure, but what would she never shut up about? History .
“Come on, Come on, look at these carvings!” Cynthia shoved a stack of photos towards Dawn, who groaned. “Look! Don’t you think it’s interesting that the clans would be depicted this way?”
Dawn flicked through the photos. The carvings were of people, all with either the Diamond or Pearl Clan symbols on their chest. Some of the people were taller than the others--it was widely accepted that the difference indicated that these people were meant to be clan leaders.
The strange part was that every person was depicted to have the face of a pokemon.
“Obviously, these are meant to be the Wardens,” Cynthia’s hand swept over one of the photos, “with the faces of their respective nobles. The strangest thing to me is why the clan leaders would be represented as a Garchomp and a Lucario. There’s no record of Garchomp or Lucario being sacred to them in any way! So why those two?”
Dawn sighed, eyeing Cynthia warily. “I’ll bite. Why?”
Cynthia blinked. Then she laughed. “I don’t know!”
“O- oh.” Dawn bit her lip. She handed the photos back to Cynthia. “I guess it is kinda weird.”
Cynthia tilted her head, poking Dawn in the shoulder. “Oh, come on! No brilliant revelations from that head of yours?”
“None at all.”
-- -- --
Dawn still didn’t know.
That being said, she hadn’t interacted much with the clans at all since her arrival in Hisui. Rei had introduced her to Wyrdeer’s Warden, Mai, and Wyrdeer had even let Dawn ride it. But still--nothing really explained the strange carvings.
She stared up at the carvings in question. They were much higher on the ruin walls than she remembered--maybe the photos had been deceiving, or over time the wall had crumbled and the carvings had fallen to the ground. In either case, she couldn’t get a good look at them from here--but they were definitely the same carvings.
Dawn sighed, turning around. Unown fluttered throughout the room, some giving her odd looks and others cowering in the corner. At least they weren’t hostile. She debated pulling a pokeball from her bag and trying to catch some--she still needed most of them for the professor--but decided against it. She’d be heading to the southern end of the Crimson Mirelands today, and how would she be able to catch all the new pokemon she saw if she used all her pokeballs here?
Really, she should hurry if she wanted to reach the southern marshes by nightfall. Though she was curious about what pokemon would appear during the night, she wanted to avoid Gastly and Haunter as much as possible.
She trailed her hand along the wall as she made her way out of the Solaceon ruins. Cynthia would be jealous, if she knew Dawn was here. The thought made her laugh as she stepped out into the sunlight.
Dawn wondered if she could leave a message for Cynthia. Carve “Dawn was here!” into the walls of Snowpoint Temple. Did Snowpoint Temple even exist at this point in time? Or would it be built later?
She shook her head. It wasn’t important. And she probably wouldn’t be leaving a message, otherwise she would have heard about it from Cynthia. If time travel worked like that, anyway. Could she change the future, while she was here?
Dawn sucked in a breath. Could she Butterfly Effect her way out of existence?
She hoped not.
She probably couldn’t, right? Otherwise Arceus wouldn’t have brought her here? Arceus wouldn’t make such a risk, would it?
Probably not , she reasoned. She would be careful anyway, though. Just in case.
Dawn felt a leaf brush against her face, and she raised her hand to wave it off. “Not now, Grotle, I’m thinking.” The leaf touched her again, and she turned to glare at the pokemon. “Grotle--!”
Grotle was still in his ball.
That was a Carnivine.
One with glowing red eyes.
“Oh, Shinx,” Dawn muttered.
And then she took off running.
Typhlosion’s ball was in her bag, wasn’t it? Along with all the Psyduck and Budew she’d caught on her way here. But if she was quick she could probably scare off the Carnivine.
The Carnivine screamed from behind her. It sounded upset--but not quite angry, and more… in pain?
She spun on her heel. What could cause an alpha to cry out in pain?!
“Oh, Shinx! ” she exclaimed.
The Carnivine had been practically mauled. There couldn’t have been time for more than one or two attacks, in the time her back had been turned, and here she was staring up at the perpetrator.
Sharp claws jutted from its hands, mane floating almost ghost-like, and pointed fox ears stuck out to either side of its--no, his--face.
His very, very human face.
“Are you alright?” The pokemon-- the person-- the thing called out.
“Oh,” Dawn murmured, “I get it now.”
The man tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“The carvings. I get it now.” She stumbled back, putting her hands out behind her to break her fall. “I get it.”
“Oh, Cynthia,” Dawn laughed dryly, “wait till you hear about this.”
-- -- --
Wind rushed across the Icelands, tossing up snow and worsening the already terrible blizzard. Most pokemon were hidden away, other than the roaming Avalugg. Even the Alpha Abomasnow had taken shelter beneath a cliff.
But the Alpha Zoroark trudged through the snow.
She clutched her kit tight to her chest. It whimpered at the cold, and she hushed it with light growls she knew could not be heard over the winds. At last, she spotted shelter in the form of a small rock outcropping. It was enough for her to crawl into, though her kit would be squished against her. That was fine, more heat to be preserved.
As the storm waged on, she felt herself slipping. She could not fall to her injuries, to the cold, not now. Not when her kit needed her most. She pulled the kit closer.
Pain. Sadness. Tired.
Tired! She could not sleep, not though her eyelids drooped lower with every minute. Not…
She felt someone touch her mane, and she growled, eyes snapping to the hazy figure before her. A human--the color of his dress indicating an origin within the Pearl Clan. She sniffed, and ah, it was that human. The one who seemed to lack fear--or common sense, one of the two.
He was kind, though, hadn’t the Lord Avalugg said? To care for any and all who needed it; to feed the hungry; to guide the lost.
Perhaps this was the best choice, then.
The man rolled oran berries towards her, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she licked the fur of her kit’s head, purring softly at it. She nudged her kit gently towards the man with her muzzle.
And then she forced the light to take her.
-- -- --
Ingo had cried out when the Alpha Zoroark became enveloped with light. He’d grabbed her kit, pulling it tight to his chest, eyes trained on the spot where the Zoroark was--had been. And then, when the light had faded, she had been gone, and in her place was a blood red crystal.
Ingo glanced down at the Zorua in his arms. “Do you know--” he shook his head. “You would not, would you?” He lowered the kit back onto the ground, pulling his basket off of his back and setting it on the ground. “All Aboard,” he murmured.
The Zorua didn’t seem to understand his words, but it could tell that the basket would be far more comfortable than the cold. Ingo slid the top back over, hoping that Sneasel would play nice.
His eyes returned to the crystal. He knew, of course, that Burst Hearts were dormant pokemon. He had met with the Lord Sneasler inside the Burst Heart he carried, even. But it was still so shocking to watch a pokemon become a Burst Heart.
He stepped forward and scooped the Burst Heart into his hand. He ran his thumb along the sharp edge, inspecting it carefully. He considered what to do with it. Should he use it himself? Hand it over to the clan? Was there some way to release the pokemon inside, and heal them?
Wind whistled past him, and he bit his lip as the wind became sharper--and began to form words.
“Care… for… him…”
Ingo was familiar with the strange ways of Burst Hearts. The Lord Sneasler had, once, spoken to him much like this.
“ I could not, like that,” the voice--the Zoroark--said, “ So I will do it… through you. My strength is yours, human. Use it wisely. ”
The wind softened, and Ingo found himself squeezing the Burst Heart in his hand. He relaxed his grip, slipping the Heart into his pocket. And yet he hesitated.
“Apologies, Lord Sneasler,” he murmured, pulling the Sneasler Burst Heart from his Warden Band. That, he set in his pocket. The Zoroark Burst Heart took its place. “But Zoroark are much more suited to travel in the icelands.”
He grabbed his basket once more, careful not to jostle the pokemon inside as he put it on his back. He held out one hand, pointing it towards the Pearl Clan camp--not that he could see it, in this storm, but his sense of direction was always spot on.
A cool light enveloped him, altering his form as the Burst Heart activated. He yelled out into the storm.
“All Aboard!”
-- -- --
Sneasel and Zorua had been left in the Highlands. Ingo brought them just about everywhere, but this, he decided, was a bit too dangerous.
The Diamond Clan’s Lady Liligent was having a similar problem to the one that had faced Lord Kleavor. Ingo had been asked to deal with it, much like he’d done for Lord Kleavor. Sneasler did have a type advantage, in any case, and Ingo didn’t mind. Battling was always exciting for him.
He raced across the Mirelands, a feral quadruped run that resembled the gait of a Zoroark. He’d found that the form of a Zoroark was much more suited to speed than that of a Sneasler. Sneasler’s strength was in climbing , not running.
A startled cry followed by the yell of an alpha drew Ingo’s attention. That… was never good. He skidded to a stop, quickly changing direction to follow the noise. He quickly came upon an Alpha Carnivine, spotting the child it was chasing soon after.
What was a child doing so far out in the Mirelands? They were nowhere near the Diamond Clan camp!
Ingo growled. It wasn’t important.
Sneasler’s poison typing would have worked well here, but he didn’t have the time to change forms. What else would Carnivine be weak to? Fire? Flying? Fire--he did know Flamethrower, though he wasn’t entirely sure why Zoroark could use such a move.
Irrelevant. Burn it. Now.
Ingo leapt forward, flames spewing from his mouth. Despite his lack of fire resistance, the heat wasn’t painful, which was good. He lashed out with his claws as he landed squarely on the Carnivine’s head, throwing it to the ground.
He let out a breath as he realized the Carnivine had been knocked out. Good.
His eyes darted to the child, who had turned to face him. “Are you alright?” he called.
The child whispered something, eyes widening as she stared at him.
Ingo tilted his head forward. “Pardon?”
“The carvings. I get it now.” She stumbled back, and Ingo reached out towards her as she fell to the ground. “I get it. Oh, Cynthia, wait till you hear about this.”
And then the child fainted, and Ingo darted out towards her.
-- -- --
“And that’s how Ingo adopted me!” Dawn said cheerfully, swinging her legs back and forth.
“That’s how we met,” Ingo clarified, “the… familial aspects didn’t come up until later.”
Cynthia stared at them. She lifted her cup to her lips, taking a sip of her tea, and then lowered the cup to the table. It settled with a sharp noise. “Dawn?”
“Yeah?”
“What the actual fu--”