Chapter Text
Thin strips of dawn broke through the window drapes and tried their level best to light up the empty, dim staff room. “You think he’s hiding something?” Kalun said, leaning on the small round table between us, staring down at the black and white stones on the game board. He took a sip of his cup of rawst berry tea, which filled the air with an earthy aroma reminiscent of a tree stump.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone has something to hide.” It’s not like we were privy to every detail of the people staying here: plenty held secrets, and by no means was it exclusive to the guests.
“It’s hard to help that kid if he won’t speak up about anything, let alone why he’s here.” He placed one of his black stones on the space I was hoping he wouldn’t claim, closing off a perimeter and ruining the plan I had been working on for days. His elbow fins scratched the wood while he watched my next move. “I mean, in some places you can get in trouble for that. I mean, the guilds? Forget about it. They scrape you clean.”
The grandfather clock ticked away in the corner of the room, three hours and twenty-two minutes off since years ago. I thought on my next move. I could have sworn I was the one winning yesterday. “Thankfully, this isn’t one of those places,” I said.
“Well, it makes our job a hell of a lot harder, Vi. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from them.”
This again. “Your job! I clean—you talk.”
Kalun put his claws up, like the words themselves were swiping at him. “Hey, I’m just saying! Even if it’s not what you’re here for, you still talk to all the guests. I mean, I see you doing that all the time.”
“I don’t talk—I listen. There’s a difference.”
“I mean, you still have to have some kind of, like…” — he moved his claws around in a vague manner, like he was conjuring the words he was looking for — “… line of communication with them, right? Even if that’s not… expected in your line of work. I mean, even the chef talks to the guests, y’know? And you’re always in their rooms and stuff.”
I rolled my eyes and let him win the conversation this time. Point taken. But I could tell there was something he wanted to ask me. He’s roundabout like that, so I gave him a minute. That, and I wasn’t going to let him win the game. Not this time.
On cue, he looked away from me, and fell deep in thought as silence took the room, occasionally pierced by the ticking. His elbows on the table once again, tapping away with his free claw—I could tell he was at the part where he had to finagle out the specific words, all the possible angles of attack to minimize any embarrassment on his end, and maximize the chances of me affirming him in whatever he had cooking in there. Concocting the perfect question was no easy task.
He looked back at me, and sighed. And then it came: “Look, uh, do you think you’ll have any luck talking to the kid?”
“I’m not so sure I’d be suited for—”
Kalun put his claws down on the table, rattling the stones on the game board. “Oh, come on now, don’t be shy all of a sudden. With your calm demeanor and all, you’d do great at making him feel welcome. I’m sure.”
“Calm demeanor? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, people like talking to you.”
Before I knew it, I had let out a chuckle. For a Gabite, he wasn’t too proud of himself. “How about you and I switch jobs then?”
“Look, I just don’t like talking to kids. They’re weird—especially when parents aren’t around to keep them from being weird little freaks. You saw how things went with that Tympole family from last year. Just… look, I tried! I really did! The Marill’s got his room now, but beats me how we’re supposed to make him feel at home,” he said, punctuating his ramble with another defeated sigh.
“He could just be here for a rest stop before hitting Alliance or something.”
“That’s not the vibe I got, but you can never know. I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear. That’s how we do things here at Wayfare.”
“… You mean I have to play it by ear.”
“Well, I mean, if you so insist,” he said with a newly formed grin. “I have some stuff to do anyway.” He pushed open the sign-in book on the table and ran his claw down the page. “He’s in room 6. You know the score. And don’t forget his gift basket!” He nodded over to the door leading back out to the lobby, where a small basket covered in a neatly woven linen sat unattended. It smelled of grainy, fresh bread. “He was in a rush after we were done talking. I think he’d like Galena’s little welcoming gift, don’t you?”
I looked back at him and tried my best to bury a frown. Well played, Kalun. “Thanks,” I said, and blew him a raspberry on the way out.
I got to meet our new guest shortly before lunch was to be served. I knocked the wall beside his room entrance—no reply. I assumed that meant he was busy elsewhere, so I pushed through the sheets into his room. That was when I saw him—a Marill leaning against a round window, peering out at the many views our estate had to offer. Room 6 was one of our better rooms if I had to be honest. The north side view of the garden and the lake was hard to beat. It was hard not getting jealous of how some of our guests were housed compared to us. My basement view hadn’t much of a view to begin with. At least it was cool during the summer.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”
Marill jumped, and turned around with a frown. “W-what is it?”
“Oh, I just came to check your room,” I said, hoping that was enough to steer the conversation towards a friendlier tone. I let the basket I was carrying slip down the end of my tail and land on the floor with a gentle thud. “You forgot this.”
“O-oh, um, thank you, miss…?”
“Violet. I’m here to prepare your room.”
He looked back out the window, his gaze fixed on the lake shimmering in the morning sun. “So you clean?”
“Yes,” I said. “Among other things.”
The Marill looked different from other ones I had seen—rare seeing one with such a deep, dark blue color. His fur was unkempt and scruffy, like a dish brush well past its golden days. He looked on edge, which I chalked up to shyness. I also couldn’t ignore the fact that a Seviper like me was hardly a sight for sore eyes.
I made myself useful, and dusted the room’s many troublesome corners with my trusty feather duster, which wrapped around the end of my tail—a loving donation from Altair which made my job so much easier. As I was preparing his room, I took another stab at conversation. “I see you’re packing light.”
“Mhm,” he said, eyes still out the window.
“Got places to be?”
“Mhm.”
I wasn’t even sure if he was listening to me. So much for that icebreaker. “It’s not often we get tykes here,” I tried again. “Do your parents know you’re here?”
Silence. Just silence this time. He didn’t so much as mhm me back this time. I must have struck a nerve or something. I carried on my business in the awkward void that filled the room, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is the room all right?”
He got up and moved over to the gift basket by the door, lifting the cover and letting the warm, bready aroma escape into the room. “It’s… it’s pretty nice.”
As I moved on to cleaning the furniture, I noticed a bundled up blanket on top of the small dresser. I didn’t recognize it, so it had to be Marill’s. It was woven in a lovely criss-cross pattern, which I worried would get stained by any dust that had been collecting on top of the dresser. As I picked it up, I felt something heavy inside. I laid it out on the floor to see what it was holding: a pearl, ocean blue, sat nestled in the blanket. The outer edge of the pearl moved like waves, while the core was still and dark, enough so that I could see my distorted reflection.
Then I heard it—a hum, hanging gentle in the air. At first I thought someone downstairs, but no, it was coming from the pearl. As I got closer, I heard it clearer—a voice, droning on the same note.
When he turned around to see what was going on, Marill dropped the piece of bread he was gnawing on and bolted over. He threw his body in front of me, on top of the pearl, and shot me a glare. “DON’T TOUCH IT.”
I backed up against the dresser. “I-I’m so sorry, I—”
He bundled up his pearl in the safety of the blanket, cradling it hard. The voices had died out. I scooted aside so he could put it back on the dresser. “It’s… it’s okay, it’s okay,” he muttered under his breath.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “E-everything’s all right.”
I didn’t push. I almost did. There’s a time and place for everything. The lunch bell rang downstairs, after which steps and shuffling sounded down the corridor, everyone eager for their midday meal.
Today was leppa stew. Nothing against Victoria, but the greatest chef couldn’t save a leppa-based dish. I was hoping that we wouldn’t give our new guest a bad first impression. After I had cleaned the dining room table, I watched Marill come in with the rest of the residents, who all got seated in their usual spots. He waited for the others to get comfortable, before snagging a spot on the far end of the table. I got seated next to Kalun, who leaned over to me. “How’s it going with the new guy?”
“I… don’t know,” I said over the ensuing lunch table chatter. “He hasn’t got much to say. A bit jumpy, though.”
“Maybe I should have pushed more when we talked,” Kalun said. “He looks… uncomfortable.”
As I counted the heads around the table, I noticed Marill’s eyes carefully wandering over the other guests. When someone so much as glanced in his direction, he averted his gaze. With that and the shuffling, his presence here seemed reluctant at best.
The food rolled in not long after. I always took some delight in helping with this part, even for the meals which I’d rather live without. I placed out a healthy amount of stew on the table in several big bowls, with some help from the kitchen staff, and everyone took as much as they needed. After that came the bowl of apples: the edible alternative. By that point, some of the residents were already digging in, while some waited patiently for their close ones to arrive. It would be uncouth for the staff to begin before everyone had gathered. Galena always said I had the patience of a saint—I was hardly in a hurry to eat, so that was easier to prove than ever.
After everyone began to enjoy their meals, Marill sat there, staring at his empty bowl, while words flew over and around him. It was hard to even register that he was there with us. He was like a ghost. I wanted him to feel like a part of the family, so I threw him a bone. “It’s rare that we get water Pokemon staying with us,” my voice boomed across the table to our new guest. I think it was then that people noticed, as everyone suddenly turned their attention to him. I realized then that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t actually want the attention. I looked over to Kalun and met his glare.
Our elderly Nidoqueen, Vienna—bless her heart—chanced a conversation with Marill. She scooped up some stew for him and filled his bowl to the brim. I didn’t catch exactly what was said between them, since Marill’s voice barely made it above a murmur outside of his room—and the distance between us didn’t help—but knowing Vienna, she most likely asked him where he came from, and if he’d seen any “interesting marine life.” That’s how it usually went for any water Pokemon who wound up here, and Marill had the honor of being our first in a year. She fancied herself a socialite. Most Pokemon, even those on the more socially gregarious side, were never quite prepared for how easy conversations go when Vienna is the one leading them.
I thought things were going well. Marill’s lips moved between sips of the stew while Vienna looked at him, curious. It warmed my heart to know that he could have someone to talk to for now. I breathed a sigh of relief. Kalun noticed my clean plate, and scooped up some slop for me too, but that didn’t stop me from feeling at peace.
That was when Master Rime entered the room, and my heart fell down somewhere in the gutter.
Master Rime wasn’t that involved in the daily operations of the manor. He inherited the place “by destiny’s own whims,” he said, but you would be hard-pressed finding someone on the staff who didn’t hold their own theory. Was it by accident? Was there political intrigue involved? And was it stage-play levels of dramatic? Who knows. He spent more time drilling our residents for their “stories” than any useful administrative work (which usually fell on Kalun in the end) and that was exactly what I was dreading in this moment. We’ve had to weather the many blows he’s dealt out to the residents who found themselves in the unlucky position of having to deal with him. He still regularly asks Altair why he can’t fly, despite being told multiple times that it’s a private matter. And don’t get me started on Victoria’s stories about him either, and she’s worked here since what must have been the dawn of time itself.
“So,” Rime began, sucking the air out of the room, leaving a sour, leppa-smelling vacuum in its wake. “I hear we have a new resident who has come to stay with us. It is always a delightful occasion when a new face decides to show at our humble abode. The doors of this manor will always remain open for those lost or in search of a home,” he said, delighting in every word slipping out of that annoying smile of his. He scanned the room from the safety of his imaginary limelight. “So, could the lucky chap reveal himself?”
Marill sat still. Not a peep came from him. Unfortunately, Vienna rose up to the occasion. “It’s Marill over here! Come on, everyone, give him your warmest welcome!” Everyone said their hellos and welcomes in unison. Loud. Very loud. So many handshakes. Marill looked like he was about to explode. How he managed was beyond me, but in that moment I felt proud of the poor guy.
Mr. Rime made his way to the guest of honor, and leaned on the table, facing him directly. No escape. He reached out his hand. “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Mr…?”
I held my breath as the room fell to silence again. Marill kept his mouth shut.
“Marill it is!” Rime bellowed to the crowd. “Great name—fine, even!”
I wish I could have shut him up right there on the spot. Once you let him start, there’s no end in sight.
“To step into this estate is to allow your heart to open,” he began. I didn’t care to note the rest. It was all hopeless appeal to pathos, until he hit something interesting: “This estate wasn’t merely passed down to me for the sake of preservation or some such private arrangement, nor was it passed down for the purpose of leisure and luxury for a select few. The nobles of old kept these premises as one of many private homes, closed to the general public, no matter the needs of the majority—unlike the previous owners, we do not intend to keep that arrangement.”
We? What did he ever do other than lounge around?! And I was surprised he hadn’t made any digs at the guilds yet.
“And unlike the guilds—”
Like clockwork.
“—we do not, and never will, demand anything in return from our patronage; your stay here is a gift in of itself of which we cherish! Yes, indeed. I hope you will enjoy your stay here, Mr. Marill. It is always an honor to receive a new guest. It never ceases to warm the crystallized core of my heart to see people wander so far and end up here. You know, it is quite funny, but I am reminded of my youth: of times of valor, when my closest chums and I…”
Some of the patrons had dozed off at that point. I wish I had too. Once he noticed, Master Rime cleared his throat and rushed together a new script.
“Well, you are all likely aware of that story already, so let us not dawdle,” he said with a chuckle, before resting on his cane and looking down on Marill, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second. “So what lead you to this neck of the woods, old boy?”
It took a moment. Marill was processing his reply I imagined. “A-adventure,” he said under a smile so crooked and forced I worried it would remain permanent. “Adventure, seeing stuff… t-things like that. Getting out there, y-you know? Yeah.”
“Oh, so you want to see the world?” he said, slapping his back. Marill hadn’t taken a single bite, yet already looked sick to his stomach. I could feel something twisting down there too with how this was going. “Fancy yourself an explorer, do you, old boy? Why, I was much the same at your age, me and the chums! The world is your Cloyster and all that, hoho! Adventure—what a prospect! Yes, indeed… Treasure; perilous treks; drama; love, if you’re lucky… And what are you hoping to do with the spoils of your adventure? Share it with the world, perhaps invest it in those who need it the most… or will you keep it all to yourself?”
Marill blanked. The room fell silent in anticipation.
“Hm? What do you say, old boy?”
The answer hung in the air, until it felt as distant as the end of lunch. No one had even finished yet.
After the longest moment of all passed, Master Rime looked deflated. “Well, uh, whether it be treasure, friends, any other such things one might find under a grand adventure, such as the one you’re undertaking, you will be sure to find here—at Wayfare Manor!” He put his hands up alongside his cane, and half the room joined in applause (yes, I counted), including the ones just waking up who hadn’t heard a word. Thankfully I didn’t have to join, since I didn’t have anything to clap with.
Lunch couldn’t have ended sooner. Everyone left content, and gathered for our afternoon events, while I scrubbed the floor clean the best I could of the damned food. The smell didn’t get any better afterwards. Marill snagged a few well-deserved slices of bread from the table before leaving alongside the others, fading into the blur of Pokemon out in the lobby. I hoped he would find some rest now, far away from the worst guy I knew.
We had two events planned that evening: a hike through the woods starting by the lakefront, or games in the drawing room. Frida and Milo—our Plusle and Minun staff who had the energy for this stuff—were in charge of entertaining the residents with a variety of activities. On the staff rota, I was to tend to the west wing while most of the guests were away. After that, I had a game to finish with Kalun.
The first floor of the west wing was going well enough. With most of the guests gone, I could rest my head for once without any more yapping. When I came into the conservatory leading out to the gardens, I saw Hopper taking it easy next to the pool. Gaudy, exotic plants sheltered him from the sun burrowing in through the glass ceiling. Arceus only knows where Petunia found these things.
I was greeted with the familiar twang of “how d’ya do?” when I entered, and I returned the usual pleasantry. There to help him move around was our newest staff member, Orion—a Duosion I was told, but I had never seen anything like them before. We hadn’t the chance to talk much yet. The Nidorino had struggled with walking for some years now, although the details were something he was never keen on sharing. Not that I had ever asked, anyway. None of my business.
“It’s a great day”, Hopper said. “If only days like these came around more often.”
Previous patrons of the estate glared down at me from their frames on the wall as I began dusting up dead leaves. I nicked my head Hopper’s way. “Oh yeah?”
“Rime didn’t get to talking about his ‘glory years,’ or whatever he calls them. That’s a great day in my book.”
“Was it fortunate then that I missed out on the occasion?” Orion not so much said as they delivered their thoughts directly to us, without any of Hopper and I’s linguistic hurdles. I could hear their voice in my head, uncomfortably close to the thoughts I’d rather not share. This form of communication wasn’t something I could see myself growing used to. So much for privacy.
Hopper nodded. “That it was. If only that kind of luck came around more often. Don’t you agree, Miss?”
“I… Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” I said, and cleaned up any remaining gunk that had made its way between the cracks of the ornate floor tiles. I wasn’t sure if I cared much more for this guy’s yammering, but I suppose in some ways it beat the aimless ramblings of Rime.
Through the ceiling, I heard a low moan.
“Now, what the devil was that?” Hopper said, perching up. “Not another haunting, I hope!”
“Probably nothing to worry about,” I said. “Hear that? It’s already gone.”
“Another haunting?” said Orion, who suddenly threw a look over their back like someone or something had poked them. Nothing but a stain-glass window met their eyes. Were those their eyes? I couldn’t be sure.
I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”
Then a sound deep enough to rumble the floor came through. We all jumped. Orion did whatever their equivalent of that was. After the noise stopped, Hopper boiled red. “What’s with the racket?! Can’t a Pokemon get some piece of mind around here?!”
It was annoying me too. I excused myself, and headed upstairs. As I passed the rooms in the second floor hallway, I listened for the culprit—Marill. It had to be Marill. My heart sank when I passed his room. I delivered two gentle knocks on the side of the entrance. I heard nothing back, as usual. I chanced a brief snooping to see what was going on. I wish I hadn’t.
A nightmare come true: Marill was rearranging the furniture all on his lonesome, and he was doing it badly.
I rushed in like the wind. “No no no no no—you’re going to leave scratches if you don’t lift them—”
I was too late. Scars littered the floor as Marill looked back at me, puzzled. I tried not to sigh, but I did. “You should’ve gotten someone to lift for you instead of dragging it across the floor like that.”
And that’s when I saw it: the large scratch in the middle. It was impressive in size. It was like a geographic landmark, you couldn’t possibly miss it. I slithered over it and felt the indent crawl against my skin, sending a chill down through me.
“S-sorry,” Marill whispered. He didn’t so much as look defeated as he looked sad. Distant. I guess I had expected more embarrassment from the kind of situation he had found himself in. “S-sorry, I just… um… didn’t like it.”
“Would you like it another way then? Maybe we could—”
“Well, my bedding was more in the middle than in the corner,” he said. “Away from any windows, but here it’s like…”
“We can change that. We can move it away from the windows if you’d like, just let me—”
“I really just, I really want it to look more like…”
“Home,” I said. “You want to make it more like home. Is that it?” Marill swallowed, and then nodded. “Then let’s make this more like home. I’ll go get Galena.”
It didn’t take long to find her deep in conversation down in the lobby. She arrived in the evenings, since she didn’t live here. One of the few staffed here to live over in Alliance. Made it hard for us to really spend any quality time together.
We got right to work as she stepped foot into Marill’s room. All of the rooms were spacious enough to even allow a Rhydon like her passage, although some were much smaller for those who didn’t like the space.
The bedding was to be set in the middle of the room, and that was easy enough for me to handle by scooping it up and moving it over. With a swift lift, Galena moved the table to the far corner, while I followed suit with the accompanying chairs. Every room came up with a small trunk for safekeeping—Marill requested that be next to the bedding, so there it went, no questions asked.
That left the dresser—the pearl! “Where do we put the blanket?” I whispered to Marill. I figured it would be best if Galena wasn’t in the know on his little secret.
Before he had a chance to reply, Galena had scooped it up in her arms. “Aw, such a nice blanket! Did ya make this yourself?”
Galena was smiling wide at Marill, and I imagine she must’ve been confused when all he did was cast a nervous look my way. I returned it. “Just some odds and ends,” I said. “How about just putting that in the trunk? Over there.”
I looked back at Marill, expecting approval. Instead, he shook his head frantically.
“Odds and ends?” Galena said, shaking the blanket. “I’m feeling something heavy in here. Are ya sure you wouldn’t want it—”
I looked over to Marill and cued him in. It’s your turn, buddy.
“I-I’ll take care of it,” he said. “J-just put it on the floor next to the trunk, please!”
It was the first time I had seen or heard him pipe up like that, but it wasn’t just that—he was beaming. Beaming at me. Until now, I was worried his frown was staying that way and there was nothing we could do. I was glad he proved me wrong in the end. When all was said and done, he looked pretty pleased with himself. It took some restraint not to praise him right then and there.
Galena excused herself, but not before I stopped by Marill to have a word with him. “Hey, I’m sorry about lunch. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”
“N-no worries,” he said. “Seriously. Um… thank you… for all the help today.” And just like that, he bowed. Not a local custom, that was for sure. I nodded to him with a smile, hoping that was enough.
We said our goodbyes and then I excused myself, joining Galena on the way back to the lobby. The moment she was within distance, she swept me off the floor into her arms and carried me down the hallway. “Someone’s in a good mood today,” she said as I laid limp in her embrace, tail dragging across the floor. I gazed into those honey-filled eyes.
“Not any more than usual,” I said, glancing down behind us in case anyone was there. “Hey, put me down, before someone—”
“And I thought you didn’t like talking to the guests.”
Oh, how I loathed her teasing tone. Then again, maybe loathe and love sound somewhat similar for a reason. After all, opposites attract. “I don’t. And come on, not here—”
“Sounds to me like that Marill finally made a friend in someone,” she said, giving me a nuzzle so soft it verged on disarming me completely.
“No, absolutely not. I’m a housekeeper, not a nanny.”
“I never said you were, hun.”
“I know I know, but—”
“Hey, you two!”
Our hallway honeymoon was cut short by the stray idiot waving at the end of the corridor. Kalun held what I assumed was a list of chores and gave us a funny look. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt,” he said. “There’s some stuff that needs your attention. Um, I mean you, Gal. Vi, you’re off for the evening.”
“Just get to it already,” Galena said in her usual curt tone. “And don’t call me that.” Well, usual with Kalun anyway. He had a way of bringing out the worst in her. Maybe he brought out the worst in me too, and I just hadn’t noticed. I would rather not think about it. I slithered out of Galena’s grasp and fell with a thud to the floor, hoping he wouldn’t ask about what we were doing.
“Right, uh, Galena—some loose floorboards need replacing over in room 15. You know the drill,” he said, expecting laughter where came none.
Galena groaned. I couldn’t tell if it was from the floorboards or the pun. “Well, Violet, I guess I’ll see ya later then.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry about that,” Kalun mumbled with Galena’s glare digging into whatever remained of him in that moment. “Has anyone told you that your horn looks like an upside down cone?”
“That’s it? That’s all ya got?”
“No, I have a lot more actually, but I’m saving that for a better occasion.”
I had to stifled a giggle. “Oh, shut up, the both of you.”
The lakefront shimmered in the dusk. The sun was setting behind the forest encircling the water, its remaining rays spilling over me. It was time for my break, which didn’t come often enough. When I wasn’t working, I was expected around staff. Kalun was fine company and all, but he was busy managing that evening to continue our game, so I finally had to myself some quality time, and what better place spend it than down by the lake? Unlike the sea, the lake hadn’t got much to say.
The wind picked up from there and brushed through the treeline, which broke into a whisper only I could hear. I found myself thinking about our new guest again. Had we been good to him? I rarely found myself asking that question. I assumed the others like Kalun found themselves more familiar with that question. But that evening, I found myself worrying that we could’ve done more. Lunch alone gave me the jitters to think about. Even after the apology, I could hardly blame Marill for holding that against me if he did. Still, an apology is an apology. Why distrust him? I tried shoving that worry deep inside so I could relax for once. These moments of peace didn’t come often enough.
It wasn’t long before I heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps behind me. “Um, hi.” I turned to see Marill holding his wrapped-up blanket under his arm while shielding his eyes from what remained of the sun. “M-mind if I…?”
I smiled at him. “Go right ahead. I don’t mind.”
Marill sat down next to me in the warm sand. “The Pokemon here,” he started, before trailing off, like the pictures he mindlessly drew in the sand. “T-they’re nice. They’re really nice.”
“Most of us are decent.”
Marill perked his head up. “Most of us?”
“Well, you did run into Master Rime.”
He returned a shrug. “He was nice to me.”
“You want in on a secret?” I whispered, trying my professional best to hold it together. “Half the place hates him—staff included!”
I failed, and so did Marill. “Y-you’re kidding! No way!”
“I’m not kidding. If only you knew half the stuff I did.”
“Have you worked here long?”
“Too long if anything.”
Sighing, Marill looked down on the blanket he was cradling. I hadn’t expected him to bring the pearl out of his room after everything.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m really sorry Rime pushed you the way he did. I’ll keep a closer eye on him so he doesn’t pull something like that again. You can never be too careful with him.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Yeah, he’s like that with everyone,” I lied. Truthfully, Rime pushed the Pokemon who would like it the least—the “interesting” in his words, the ones holding tragedies deep within them that he felt entitled to hearing. That did make up a good number of our residents, since “no one comes to Wayfare without a story” as Kalun says, but it all came down to how closely you held your cards to your chest. Knowing how my games usually went with Kalun, I liked to think I wasn’t half bad. Maybe that’s why Rime never bothered with me.
Marill stayed silent, letting the sand run through his paws. His eyes then darted over to the group returning from their hike, who had come out of the woods and gathered in the garden by the conservatory. Frida was counting out everyone loud enough for her voice to carry all the way over to where we were sitting.
“I-I think I’ll be leaving,” Marill said, snapping me back to the moment. “Tomorrow. By noon, maybe.”
“Tomorrow, already?” I found myself blurting out before I could stop myself. “Of course. Absolutely. You’re always free to leave at any point, but… are you sure—”
“It’s a great place and all, but…” His eyes moved over once more to the group, now laughing their way back inside the manor. “Besides, you have enough Pokemon here.”
“It’s manageable.” Although not always, if I had to be honest. “We really don’t mind having more company here. There’s always vacancy. There’s no pressure, really. People come and go.”
“It’s… it’s my turn to go now.”
I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. All this talk with him, and I still felt like I hadn’t gotten anywhere. I imagined what Kalun’s response would be when I came back to tell him after all was said and done, Marill’s leaving. What could I do? He had clearly made up his mind. “Just know that our doors will always remain open for you. For whenever you’d like to come back, if that’s ever the case. Okay?”
He got up, and waddled over to where the lake caressed the sand, taking a careful step into the water like it was his first. He held the blanket over the water. “It was… nice. It was nice coming here, and…” His voice trailed off again as he gazed down at his face rippling in the water. “Um, that Gabite…”
“Kalun?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell him much. He… had a lot of questions.”
“I heard about that. And hey, that’s okay—”
He turned to me. “I know it’s okay!” he said with force I wasn’t expecting. His voice then slowly sunk back to a murmur as his eyes fell to the ripples of the lake. “He… said that too. He was nice.”
“Yeah, he… he really is.”
Marill unraveled the blanket, and let the pearl drop in the water with a splash. Its brilliant blue absorbed the sunlight through the water. As he held it under the surface, it kept collecting the light, and started to glow.
“What… what is that?”
“It’s all I have left,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dancing lights threatening to shoot through the surface. As I watched it cast its rays around it, I heard it again: the hum, lay soft under the water, now joined by many others like it. A thousand voices about to burst into song, but all they could muster together was a hum, building to a crescendo which never came.
I could hear droplets hit the lake, but it wasn’t raining. I got up and waded out into the water to get closer to Marill. His eyes glistened over the water. “Hey, are you…?”
He turned to face me, his lip quivering. Before I could react, he lunged at me with a hug. His warm tears ran down my skin through strained sobs. “N-no one,” he cried out in a choked voice. “No one wants… no one wants me anymore—”
“Hey, that’s not true—”
He squeezed me hard when I said that. I shut my mouth and let the little guy hold me. For as long as he wanted. For as long as he needed. Just weathering the storm. Just holding the ship together. It took some effort not to offer advice. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself this time.
“I dunno what to do, I dunno what to do,” he repeated under heavy gasps. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know—”
“We want you here,” I said. “If you have nowhere else to turn to, then we want you here.”
There was a brief moment of silence where I swear the world went quiet. Then he looked at me. “Do… do you really mean it?”
“Trust me. It matters where you are.”
A constellation lit up in his eyes as he looked at mine like he had never seen them before. Snot precariously hung from his nose as those big puppy eyes just kept twinkling. That’s where the sobbing slowed down, and then he held me again. I closed my eyes. The chatter from the garden stopped, and everything fell to silence beside his deepening breaths. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Just weather it. I know you can.
Dusk escaped, and made way for nightfall to wash over the lake soon after. Marill poked my tail, which had gently coiled around him. “Hey, can I…”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just… I never told you—told anyone my name.”
It had been a while since I even thought about that. I was on first-name basis with most guests, yet the one I had spent the most time trying to get to know still remained a mystery. Funny how that works. “Only share it if you want to,” I said. “No one here is under any obligation to—”
“Lazuli,” he said. “That’s… that’s my name.”
“It’s a nice name. It fits you.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Or you could call me ‘Laz’ for short, I guess. The folks back home, they… they called me that. I miss it. You can use it, if you’d like. Only if you want to, of course!”
I gave him a stray poke with my tail. “Are you sure about that, Lazlaz?”
“I… can we forget I ever said that?”
We burst into a hearty laughter, which echoed across the lake. I was sure the residents on the north side looking out their windows were wondering what was so funny. I found myself wondering the same thing for a moment, but it didn’t matter—Laz had us now, and for that, I was happy.