Chapter Text
Dancer was alone.
This was nothing new; the Zoroark had been alone most of his life. Partly due to choice, partly to circumstance. …Mostly due to circumstance, if he was being honest with himself, but he very rarely was. It was easier to pretend that his isolation was self-inflicted.
Besides, he had grown used to it, more than making do on his personal tiny glade in the woods, complete with a berry bush and slowly-but-surely growing collection of human media. He didn’t have any of their fancy machines and didn’t know how to read, but his stash of pilfered cards and comics was his pride and joy, tracing the stories they told through the illustrations.
And, when the loneliness got too much and the thoughts too intense, he would thank whatever gods for being born a Zorua that he had yet to curse for his lot in life, and put his natural abilities to use, recreating his favorite scenes.
He rose an illusion of a blonde human over himself, feeling his claws fit into six of their fingers and wrapping them around a metal hilt. A strange sensation, knowing that nothing was there yet having his mind convince him there was, filling in the touch of the cold metal as if he was truly holding it.
In front of him, shadows grew out of the ground, forming into the shapes of a black suit of armor and a withered old man sitting in a chair.
Dancer held the metal hilt forward and pressed the non-existent button, causing a beam of light to emerge, and made up his own super high quality dialogue.
“Friend, that wizard is using that gauntlet to control you! You must either take it off or let me kill him!”
The suit of armor said nothing, simply extended its own beam and lunged forward. The two clashed blades, slamming into each other with all their might, Dancer making sure not to accidentally touch the suit physically so as to not break the illusion.
“I serve my master…” the suit droned robotically.
“Fight it! I know you can!”
“No… I only serve my master…”
Dancer disengaged, jumping onto one of the trees that marked the border of his territory.
“I know that’s not true! I can still help you!”
“No… If you don’t kill me, then I’ll kill you and your friends… Please, just do it…”
“Never!” Dancer yelled, not quite acting anymore as he launched himself down, knees buckling from the force of his strike, perfectly blocked by the suit of armor. “I—I’ll save all of you, I promise!” He slammed his light blade into the suit’s over and over again, tears welling in his eyes until finally, he made contact, slicing his opponent’s hand off, taking the accursed gauntlet with it. They fell to the ground alongside its weapon, all exploding into shadow.
“No… NO!” the wizard shouted, rising from his chair, which also dissolved as soon as he left it.
“It’s over,” Dancer said, wiping his nose and tossing his weapon aside. “You can’t control him anymore.”
“Oh, I have my methods. But first, did you really think that I was powerless this whole time?” He extended his fingers and unleashed a Thunderbolt, knocking Dancer to the ground, writhing in mild discomfort at the weak current he was emulating, but groaning in agony all the same.
“Friend! Help me! The gauntlet’s gone, you can save me!”
“Hah! You fool, it’s too late! My control is far too strong for—AAAAHHH!” The wizard screamed as the armor picked him up, absorbing the attack.
“You… Cannot… Control me anymore!” it yelled, and threw him against the ground, making him explode, light and shadow dispersing in such violence that Dancer himself was momentarily blinded. When he regained his vision, the armor was collapsed on the ground.
“No… no, please…” he whimpered, unconsciously dropping his own disguise as he scrambled over. “Don’t leave me, I know it wasn’t your fault, please…” He ripped the helmet off, revealing that there was a person beneath it all along. One with burnt, scaly skin, growing scalier by the second, and slowly gaining tusks. “Please, I-I know you didn’t mean it. D-don’t leave me too. Please.”
The increasingly Haxorus-shaped figure reached a claw up, stopping just shy of touching his face. “I know, Dancer. I’m sorry, but… we both know it’s too late for me. Live on, for all of us.”
“No, no, no, I can’t. I-I can’t—ah!”
He was rudely interrupted by another shock. Blinking back tears, he turned around—to find the wizard leering over him.
“Mwahahahah, the revenge of the wizard!” he yelled, sounding markedly different from before, like someone with a naturally high-pitched voice doing a crappy impression.
“I—really Peanut? Right now?” Dancer asked, sighing and standing up, the Haxorus-thing below him sinking into the ground.
“I am not Peanut! I am the wizar—hey!” Peanut just barely dodged a Night Claw thrown their way by reverting back to their more “natural” form of an Emolga. “You almost hit me!”
“How are you doing this,” Dancer sighed.
“Doing what?” Peanut asked, sticking their tongue out and hopping through the air towards him.
“Existing,” he said flatly. “Doing things on your own. Not listening to me.”
“Rude! I’m a person too, you know!”
“No, you’re not,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re not even real!”
The Emolga’s face briefly shifted into a scowl, before morphing back into a mischievous grin as they dramatically looked themselves over. “I don’t know, I seem pretty real to me.”
“You—you’re just an illusion! You know this! You don’t have a mind or body, so how are you moving on your own?!”
They faltered for a moment, but kept their smile, shrugging. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I might not have a traditional body, but I can think, so I’d say I have a mind.”
“And what are you even thinking with?! You don’t have a brain! You’re just—something I made up to talk to when I’m lonely!” He blushed a little as he admitted it, feeling embarrassed despite technically being the only one around. “B-but then you… started to respond in ways I didn’t think for you to, and now here you are, interrupting my plays!”
“Mhm,” they sarcastically intoned. “Your ‘play’ was turning into a flashback real quick bud. You should be thanking me. And anyways, if you made me, then maybe I’m just a rogue part of your mind! Ever think about that?”
“Like a parasite.”
“If a parasite was a helpful friend you enjoyed talking to, sure,” they grinned, laying on their stomach mid-air and kicking their feet back and forth.
“And what makes you think I enjoy talking to you?” Dancer pouted.
“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you keep summoning me, that you haven’t shattered my illusion yet, or maybe that you actually bothered to name me?”
He sighed. “Well, maybe I just wanted something to call the little pest that keeps showing up other than ‘that one Emolga’.” He reached out to pet them, but they deftly jumped out of the way.
“Nuh uh, no touchy, remember?” they giggled, sounding warmer.
“…sorry,” Dancer said, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Apologizing to an illusion, are we?” Peanut smirked. “I guess you really do consider me a person then, dontcha?”
“A parasite,” Dancer corrected, but couldn’t quite hide his smile.
“Hm. Well, if I am a parasite, I’m glad that I have such a gracious host.” They gave a mock bow, eliciting a genuine giggle from the Zoroark. “Anyways, catch ya on the flipside, ya big dork,” they said, and before he could say anything—
—dove in and pecked him on the cheek, the sudden physical contact breaking the illusion keeping them whole.
Dancer touched the spot where he’d been kissed, a blush so bright and red it threatened to show through his fur.
“Hey that’s not… fair…” he whispered, words trailing off, before he dropped his arms with a frustrated sigh. “See ya later, you little parasite,” he muttered, feeling both less and far more alone than he had before.