Chapter Text
There’s a monster in the outskirts.
Or so Isa says, claiming it to be no Pokémon she’s ever heard of. Callie’s not so sure; the trapinch might be reliable, but she’s excitable and prone to exaggeration. Her friend could easily just as well have seen a strange silhouette and mistaken it for some strange creature, fixated as she must have been.
It still doesn’t stop her from setting out down the rough-trod path off the main road. However much of a hoax it could be it’ll at least be something interesting to do, a new activity to break up the week’s poor volume of travellers. With Isabeau off being asked questions by her guild there’s not any point in sticking around, not when everybody else is staying inside ‘out of caution’.
Callie’s not afraid of any monster though; Isa might not have wanted to fight the thing, but if there is something that attacks her there’s no chance it’ll stand up to a good flame punch.
Still, the range of vision she gets this late is limited, and it’s difficult to make out most of the closer details she could use to track the thing, let alone the steeper terrain she’s been crossing. Waiting for daybreak would at least let her do a proper search, though she’d have to forgo opening shop, and there’d be a couple of adventurers doing the searching. At least if she keeps going she’ll be able to see it from whatever light source the creature uses, and she’ll have something to brag about to Isa.
She’s drawing close to where Isa was training now, rubble-strewn ground a remnant of the earthquakes the trapinch was still getting the hang of. The problem is that there’s no great way to find where it might have gone – really she was just hoping she might see whatever Isa saw, real monster or no, so to have to put proper effort in this late is going to be a drag.
Passing by much have left prints in the thick dust coating the ground, though. It’s at least a start, and she wills herself to burn just a bit brighter, tongues of flame lashing across her pelt where before mere flickers danced. She could see a little further now, shadows lengthening behind the remaining boulders in the area.
Wherever this thing went, it would have done it faster over flat ground; and with the path she’d taken being filled with boulders to clamber, and now the odd crack or two given how many times Isa had shaken the earth, anything passing by would have to have been travelling across the gentler slope going east to north-west.
Searching across the area she could see would be far easier with a clear plan in mind, and its only after a good thirty minutes of searching that she’s rewarded with her prize. Sharp, crisp marks dot the ground, alternating so cleanly and evenly that there’s no doubt these are the prints of a living being – and what’s more, not of any Pokémon she’s ever seen before. The sharp, firm nature of the marks is almost reminiscent goletts and occasional golurk that travel nearby, with few scuff marks or protrusions one might expect from digits. The strange thing is how they’re split in two, the back part almost semicircular, while the front part is elongated, curving as it goes until rounding at the end.
Whatever made these prints had to be Isa’s monster…
What few scuffed edges there were to the marks were made at the elongated end; the only thing she can think to determine which way it was going. She at least has an inkling of the direction she needs to go; she can turn back before too long if she can’t find anything.
She’s been trekking across the sand for about an hour now, considering turning back to explore the other direction in the morning, when she sees something in the corner of her eye. Turning, she can see what drew her attention; in a crevice between the rock formation to her right, a bright reflection shines on the rock.
Bounding along now, chasing along the path she’s given herself, she can see the prints veer off, towards the boulders. There’s an opening more clearly visible on this side, one which she can squeeze through. Extinguishing her flames, she makes her way inside, able to see from the light which she knows now to be a campfire, crackling merrily alongside a tent. She can hear something, perhaps muffled by the rocks earlier but clear as day now, a low, regular scratching noise, like a sneasel’s claws on chalk. What had once seemed harmless, now loomed in her mind as the danger of her situation became apparent.
Distracted by how stupid this all was, her trembling steps kicked a pebble from the ground, the echoing sound almost deafening in the enclave, silent if not for the monotonous scraping. On the far side, she sees movement – a shadow cast on the wall lengthens and rises, moving sideways as something emerges from behind a rock, holding a knife, but far different from any she’s ever seen, long, curved and blue, but wicked sharp all the same, whetstone in the other that makes it clear it was being sharpened.
Feeling threatened, she brings her hand up, clenching it into a fist as she readies a flame punch to defend herself; only to see the figure snap its head towards her, taking long, slow strides to reach her as she curses herself internally for the mistake.
Seeing it now in the light, it’s hard to think of what this could be but a monster – tall and upright, draped in billowing folds like that of a gardevoir, or hatterene, but all the wrong shade, and ears and a tail uncommon to so many Pokémon that stand upright, yet the face itself seems devoid of fur, pink and littered with marks. The sound of it is off too, echoing steps as if covered in rock or steel, and shockingly fast, bearing down upon her now.
Not seeing any recourse as it approaches her, she swings, the hand wreathed in flame rushing forward to impact… only for the figure to dance away, swivelling around as the strike peters out into nothing. Again, she moves to attack, propelling herself forwards to headbutt in hopes that they wouldn’t see the move without the flames to telegraph it, hurtling forwards through thin air as she misses again.
Those same, clacking steps ring out behind her, and as she turns she sees that blade raised in both hands, a straight, thin line that is surely wicked sharp. Knowing this is her end, there’s nothing she can do but squeak out a final ‘Sorry’; both to this creature, hoping it will understand enough to let her live, and to Isa, for ignoring what she had said.
Alisaie can hear the gentle lapping of waves as she wakes up. It’s accompanied by the cold stinging of pins-and-needles, as if she’d fallen asleep awkwardly, reminiscent of late nights in the Noumenon.
Opening her eyes groggily, stretching as she does so, two things strike her: she is not simply in an awkward position, but in one of the strangest places she could have slumbered, surrounded by the sand and sea on a far-sweeping beach. The other thing, stranger still than her location, is the company; a blue-white creature not dissimilar from a carbuncle, with paws and limbs far closer in nature to her own as she stretches out a hand.
Naturally, the similarity is a matter of concern, given she did not previously have paws, threats from Y’shtola aside. Wanting to examine herself, she is stopped by a rasping gurgle beside her; magical construct or not, the creature beside her clearly needed to breathe, a fact somewhat hampered by its current position, the head now tilted so that the muzzle took in water after each breath.
Considering the lack of difficulty before, the situation was most likely caused by her own jostling of the animal – something for which she could feel guilty about after fixing the problem.
Wading over, she nudges it so that there’s no longer any risk of drowning. Issue solved for now, she attempts to grasp the creature’s paw that she might drag it to safer ground, only to wobble over as the weight proves too much for her new form, engulfed once more by that same stinging. Strength much diminished, she seizes the instinctual solution, circulating her aether for a reinforced tug… only to stagger drunkenly, a thick, heavy nausea permeating her stomach as the aether rams through unfamiliar pathways.
“Twelve above, I’m not going to try that again.”
Catching her breath as the sensation subsides, she’s forced to take the slow option, circling round to push from the rear, eking out progress with every shove. The kicks may be the slightest bit more vicious than warranted, frustration at her predicament leaching into her actions even if undeserved by the poor bystander. Accompanied with low grumbling, she manages to heave the body onto the dry sand, having figured out that it was more effective to push full-body using her shoulders.
She has time now to take stock, catching her breath with a deep inhale. The air is cool, but not frigid like the familiar clime of Sharlayan – perhaps closer to that of Doma’s sea, refreshing without the downside of La Noscea’s cloying humidity.
Attempting to reflect on the situation, she finds herself looking into the sea. The waves are low enough to see herself in, at least, a rippling russet muzzle just as vulpine as her new companion. The tails are a strange touch, waving at her command despite never being possessed of such features, and she can’t help but wonder whether the three Miq’ote of the Scions would feel just as strange in the same situation, gaining merely five tails instead of six but with years of muscle memory to remember the motion. Regardless, the features are definitive – not a carbuncle, then.
The curious tuft of hair she possesses, threaded with white and retaining those few hairs that just don’t ever seem to stay down, seem to be the only trait that remains, along with blue eyes of course. She has a sneaking suspicion, turning to examine the other fox behind her; it too has blue eyes, and a sprig of hair that pokes out amongst the other, seeing the eyelids flutter and hearing his voice as she looms over him.
“Hello? Terribly sorry, do you happen to know where this…”, the voice dying down in confusion as he looks up.
Alisaie, for her part, feels slightly less confused than she started, an impressive feat in her estimation given the fact that most everything had tried to rip the floor beneath her. Of course, she winds up with Alphinaud, given a silly matching body – although relieved at the prospect of having him far more than a stranger, she regrets not giving him a couple more jabs earlier, having had to save him from the water yet again.
It's amusing to see him look himself over, the levity of the situation more apparent now that she’s in on the joke rather than the sole butt of it. His attempt to stand up results in a wobbly topple back to all fours, and his gaze returns to her with the realisation that they are the same size. He takes a wary step back, assessing her for a threat, and she merely tilts her head in response – for all his vaunted intelligence, she wants to see how long it will take him.
With no action on her part, he seems to dismiss her as a curious animal, and returns to thinking. The familiar habits are there, same under-the-breath mumbling, same chewing of his lip as he comes to a stumbling point. There’re new additions, however, tails weaving together so subtly she doubts he even feels it, and his own head tilt, but its comforting to see such routine habits.
As he gazes into the waves just as she had, she can see the gears whirring in his mind, a decides to take pity on him.
“You know, you could stand to actually learn to swim sometime, instead of needing me to bail you out.”
He whirls around in surprise, and yep, there it is, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Alisaie? But you… You could have spoken up sooner, you know. I suppose you’ve been enjoying the situation as you let me sleep.”
Ugh. He could be such a drama queen. “I’ll have you know it’s barely been a quarter bell since I woke up myself. Besides, we’re now small little critters, there’s not exactly much to dwell on. I would, however, advise against trying to channel aether for anything right now, at least without a focus.”
The grimace on his new muzzle indicates he is flagrantly ignoring her advice for his own curiosity. Seeing him totter about is satisfying at least; for all that people liked to think of him as the ‘smart’ twin back when they were younger, he by far made the most stupid decisions, and it seems that still follows him.
Taking a proper look around them yields nothing obvious, empty beach all around them with no civilisation in sight. Setting off along the shore, she hears Alphinaud behind her, muttering in a breathless tone, “Well, that was certainly unpleasant. It would have helped if you had explained why using aether was a bad idea… Alisaie? Alisaie!”
Bounding towards her to catch up, slowing as he draws alongside her, “Pray tell, why exactly do you think just going off randomly is a good idea right now? Couldn’t you give me just a little time to get a grip on this?”
“Think all you like, this isn’t going to feel any less weird. And unless you happen to know where civilisation is, travelling until we find one is the best we can do right now. Unless you suppose it would be better to split up?”
Defeated, her brother sighs. He could really learn to just go with the flow sometimes. Regardless, they are in this for the long haul.
Alisaie stops still, and he bumps into her as he carries on, himself distracted. It’s immediately obvious that something has changed, the atmosphere becoming heavy, almost oppressive, and he can’t blame her for the collision. Ripples in the air and the haphazard zig-zagging of the waves indicate something very wrong with the space of their environment, something made all too clear when the sea seems to bend at a right angle to cut them off.
“Have you ever felt something like this before? The aether itself seems to be… twisted, after a fashion. Do you not agree?” He questioned.
His sister seems to be in agreement, tensing up as she replied. “It’s uncomfortably familiar, whatever it is. Remember the Telophoroi’s towers? Weak as it may be, I’m reminded of that sensation, and we somehow don’t even have the Scales to protect ourselves with! Tch. Make sure to look out for anything hostile.”
The frustration in her tone is apparent, and understandable to say the least, yet it stings somewhat that she has to treat him like he’s that same teen who had set out from Sharlayan. He knew very well to be on the lookout, especially since they hadn’t their weapons, nor any adequate substitutes. Were the land to temper their minds they would have no chance to cure it separated from the others, which made fleeing the best option. Looking behind him, however, the path was blocked. The only path left to them, then, was forward.
“Very well then. If you’re willing to lead?” The understanding was tacit, even if they hadn’t often had the need to venture into dangerous situations as just the two of them recently, though, without a blade to supplement her close-quarters combat, he doubted the same strategies could work… not that she could likely wield one given their current predicament. Even then, she was still like as not the better lead, her reflexes and speed leagues ahead of his own.
Setting off at not quite a jog – a canter? – he makes to follow as she forges ahead. The scenery itself is curious, strange patterns rippling across the waves they encounter as some strange distortion eddies and tugs at the surface. The water itself isn’t the only obstacle either, great dunes of sand sweeping across the path before them, towering high to form an unbroken wall that prompts them to alter their course.
He'd look forward to sketch it the next time they find proper shelter, though he knows it’ll be useless given his own unfamiliarity with paws. Hopefully his memory will do the vista justice once returned to normal.
The occasional piece of debris breaks up the monotony of walking; various rocks are as common as loose gil in Ul’Dah, but there’s the odd thing or two which seem a touch more out of place. A dusty apple found in one of the rooms is strange enough, haphazardly lying around without any tree to have dropped it, made worse by Alisaie wiping it off on her own foreleg and taking a bite much to his own horror. One thing that does catch his attention is a marble, what would have once been a little larger than fist-sized, purple-yellow colours swirling together in an almost spiralling fashion. He’s tempted to take it with them, if not for the fact that neither of them has any means of storage, but it's an interesting find to be sure.
About two thirds of a bell, now, since they’ve entered, and there’s a strange hole in the ground in this next open area. To call it a hole might be inaccurate, though – sloping downwards, a ramp descends into darkness, what must be compacted sand forming the ceiling above it in a physics-defying manner.
“Are we totally sure we ought to be going downwards? I doubt an exit to this place would be underground.”
“Well, we’ve been turned around by this stupid maze enough for me to know that there’s not much else above ground – this is the only thing that seems like it will take us out. Besides, stupid and reckless things, remember, brother dear? You’ll just have to trust me.” Infuriatingly right, she trots her way down the stairs. Every single time.
What he finds when he follows, however, is most definitely not what he was expecting. Not an exit either, the short tunnel leading out into another room, bathed in just as much sunlight as the floor he had just descended from. Looking backwards, he’s amazed to see thin air, the ramp he had been on a moment prior nowhere to be found. Beside him, at least Alisaie is just as dumbfounded, without the casual acceptance of the situation she seems to have had this entire time.
“Are we quite sure this isn’t an elaborate dream we’re both having?” He asked, with fairly justified confusion. This wasn’t the strangest situation he’s been in, but it could certainly find a place among them.
“When you woke up, do you remember feeling a pain in your ribs?” came the reply.
Thinking back to it…. “Why, yes actually. Did you experience a similar pain?”
She smirks, answering with “Oh, not at all. I do, however, recall kicking you a couple times as I rescued you from drowning in but three ilms of water, so if you feel that it most likely is an insane reality, rather than a normal fantasy.”
Incensed by the statement, he charges, tackling her in an almost instinctual manner – less dignified than their historical spats, perhaps, but a comforting way to bicker nonetheless. The counter is just as swift, and soon they find themselves tussling, and were he to have seen them from above he most likely would have called it play-fighting.
This match of childish brawling could very well be the reason, then, that they do not sense the creature that stumbles into the room until it is there with them, growling at them with a wild look in its eyes. It certainly doesn’t seem friendly, and they snap back to a ready position to prepare for a fight.
Their apparent foe looks to be an otter, or at least a similar kind of aquatic beastkin, brown-orange fur covering it while a ring of yellow fur sags around its neck, as if a scarf.
Given their own sentience given animal form, he’d like to think that speaking up was a wise and cautious move, thinking perhaps a misunderstanding was to blame. Speaking up, he greeted the animal with a “Hello? Apologies we startled you; we’ve found ourselves lost and –“
His own caution, however, was given a hostile reply, the dignity and grace he had hoped to carry himself with dashed as a jet of water burst forth from the creature’s mouth, hitting him full on in the face as he talked and getting a good deal of it in his mouth… or muzzle, as it were. The force of it is enough to send him staggering backwards, pain ringing through the side of his face as he comes to grips with what just happened.
Steeling himself, he makes to funnel aether through his nouliths that he might return to the fray… only for the lacking reaction at his back reminding him that he’s defenceless, for the first time in a long while.
Alisaie herself isn’t faring much better, ducking and weaving as she tries to occupy their assailant’s attention. Without her blade and focus, she seems to have resorted to harrying it with the full force of her body, charging in as it settles from its last movement, nimble movements defying her own clumsy tackles.
Shaking himself from his stunned state, he calls out, “Alisaie, this isn’t going to work. We need to run!”
“We’d be able to take this thing if you would just help me!”
Spying a moment where the otter has its back to him, he waits for Alisaie to go in for another attempt, once again foiled by a quick sidestep, but as it winds up to strike her on her recovery, he seizes the opportunity, dashing forward and hurling himself against it with all his weight, sending the creature tumbling back and catching himself before he falls alongside it.
Alisaie crows with success, but he’s not looking back in self-satisfaction, running back in all haste. What was meant to be tugging her along by the hand as he makes swift escape is dashed before he can attempt it, but without time to waste he makes do with an awkward nudge from behind, followed by an even less graceful pushing on her neck in attempt to direct her movement.
“Whatever manner of beast that thing is, it has greater command of its aether than we do our own at the moment; and I for one, don’t want to be on the receiving end. I’m running, and you can stay if you like, but you’d do well to consider that another might arrive before long.” It’s a good argument, well-reasoned if he does say so himself, and the fact that it has been met with a low growl from his sister works well to convince him that she knows so as well.
Still, the fight won’t wait for him to be pleased with himself, and he redoubles his escape, Alisaie following at his heel. Rushing through the corridors of sand, he darts first left, then right, zigzagging through the labyrinthine structure in an attempt to lose their pursuer. The fierce jet of water that slams into a wall just as Alisaie turns aside tells him that, no, they have not lost it, and he’s getting winded now, flagging from the walking, and wading through shallower waters. He’s regretting not having shared that filthy apple from earlier, much as he’s alarmed to find himself thinking.
Through one room, then another, then back to the winding corridors, doggedly followed, it finally comes to a head, tripping over a large stone embedded in the sand. Sprawled out across the floor, he’s a sitting chocobo just lying there. Seeing Alisaie take a stand, he tries to drag himself up, only for the paw he puts his weight on to twinge in a sharp shock of pain. The running won’t go on for any longer.
The otter beastkin has caught up to them now, resuming it’s battle with Alisaie just as soon as it catches sight of her. The advantage is very much with their attacker, smart enough to realise that she’s resorted to blunt force and nipping at it whenever in range of her muzzle, relying purely on that water attack from before.
The situation’s not good, and he can tell she knows it too, fighting more cautiously now yet with more force behind each attack, hoping she’ll manage to bring it down for long enough to finish the job. Her own frustration seems to be building up, and while he knows that it won’t get to her enough to impede her own ability, it’s still worrying to see her rattled especially without the backup they’ve had the ability to call for in past dangers.
It all accumulates in a harsh, guttural sound emanating from the depths of her being, not quite a roar but more a grating, discordant scream, uncomfortable, but not curious part of her outburst. From her mouth a flurry of orange particles flows out, glowing in a coil in the air, igniting as they spiral outwards in a bright flare to settle on the pelt of the otter, burning up harshly for all that they’re worth.
The effect on it is pronounced, a shriek erupting from their foe as it stumbles to the side, dropping in an attempt to put out the smouldering cinders, and he takes the opportunity to ask her, “How exactly did you know to do that?”.
Responding with her own confused expression, she says, “I have no idea. Honestly, I was mostly thinking about how one good verholy or verfire ought to have been able to take it out, but I was mostly just trying to keep up with the battle.”
Turning back to their opponent, she’s just in time to catch another burst of water – yet this time it’s with her frame instead of her eyes, crumpling with the force. The otter advances, a blackened scorch adorning its pelt.
If he could just move, he could get in the way, more pain still as he pulls himself forward. There’s something in the distance though, a beating like footsteps that he’d worry about if given the chance later. For now, he’s resigned to this – however it came in, he has to give everything to hit it as it goes for Alisaie, even if means tearing at its throat with newly sharp fangs.
One slow, padding step, then another, more quickly now, and the moment is almost here, and he shifts ready to spring. That beating is far more distinct by now, thunderously loud in a way that reminds him of familiar determined sprinting, and there’s a faint hope there, the famous timing that a single individual was known for, swooping in at the last minute to herald victory.
A figure bursts into the room, not the comforting Miq’ote form of a hero but instead a diminutive, brown lizard, head clad in a skull. Sliding across the sand, it clenches what looks to be a bone in its hand, turning to the side before swinging, loosing the implement in a wide arc through the room that brings it to bear against the otter, knocking it full to the ground before returning to its owner.
Even despite the strange form, their own too is unfamiliar, and he holds his breath in anticipation. Could this be their lost friend, come back to them that they might search for the others together?
Then they open their mouth, and his hopes are dashed to hear a voice not at all similar to their friend… disappointing through no fault of their own, but crushing nonetheless.
“Are you guys alright? You seemed to be having trouble, and when I saw you two talking, I figured, ‘They’re probably not feral, why not lend a hand?’, and it looks like I got here just in time. I was gonna try and find some poor goomy’s lost bag, but I figure that can wait for another day – you guys look beat. Want a ride back to the city?”
Alphinaud’s agape still at the talking animal – while he had hoped they might find someone to talk with, it’s another thing to actually find them, let alone a talking animal… not that they have much of a reason to complain about that right now. He needs to compose himself, get out an answer out that yes, they very much would like a lift back to whatever settlement they’re referring to, but he’s beaten to the punch by Alisaie.
“Well, you definitely did pull through there for us, I can give you that. If you’re going to help us get to the city, though, mind telling us where we are? We’re at least a little lost right now, and we’d like to get a better grasp on things.” She’s asked a good question, even if it definitely won’t do them any good right now without a map. For all that she complains about having to handle diplomatic meetings, she’s certainly got a good handle on the basics of keeping her hand well hidden.
“What, did you get turned around on the road to Kalera or something? The dungeon’s only been formed this past week, so I can see someone wandering in without knowing they’re near one. Should be about another two hours or so walk from the city proper, though I can get you there faster.” This is punctuated by him unclipping a winged emblem from a satchel at his side, made of what looks to be brass with a clear blue crystal shining at the centre. It’s evidently some focus for something, but that’s not what’s on his mind right now with this stranger.
“Apologies, we haven’t thanked you properly for saving us back there. We could very likely have perished right then and there, if not for your timely intervention. I am Alphinaud Levilleur, and she’s my sister, Alisaie.” Looking back at the felled creature, it still seems to be alive, the steady rise and fall of its chest indicating it to merely be unconscious, their newly met companion seemingly unbothered by this fact. Before he can raise the matter, however…
“Right, of course. I’m Robin – you might have already guessed, but I’m an adventurer with the guild.”
That has certainly caught his attention, and from what he can tell, Alisaie’s as well. “There’s an adventurer’s guild in… Kalera? Could you take us there?” If there’s anywhere that might draw the Warrior of Light’s attention, an adventurer’s guild sounds like the place to start if it shared so much as a passing similarity with the organisation back in Eorzea.
“Well, the badge is paired back with the shard back at the guild, so that’s where we would’ve been going anyway. You two aspiring adventurers or something?”
It’s a good enough cover for now, and he doesn’t see Alisaie complaining when he replies with a “Something like that.”
“Some good luck to have run into me then, I can show you around some. Probably better show you the medical wing though, given the fact you’re wincing every time you put your weight on that paw. Anyway, you two just hold on to each other, I’ll get the teleport underway.”
As Alisaie clutches his paw, Robin grasps her shoulder firmly, then presses on the crystal at the heart of his badge, the telltale weightlessness of teleportation beginning to take hold. To this guild, then, where they can get started on finding their comrades, a fleeting thought before he’s enveloped in the current of aether, whisked off to their next destination.