Archive of Our Own

Nobody warns you about the Zubats.

See, Pomni– she's never been too terribly aware of the nature of her world. Call it a horrific condition of apathy, bad luck, just never having had the right time and place for it. Call it cruelty, even. 

(Though that's her least favorite. Just one little tick about her personality doesn't mean she's got serial killer potential, okay?)

Pomni just doesn't work with Pokemon.

Not out of lack of trying. Everyone owns a Pokemon. Even her. They're friendly and she's not scared of them, not like her new friend who would faint seeing a Venipede.

It just feels like something's missing. A significant genetic sequence making Pokemon love and listen to her unconditionally that she somehow skipped out on.

Don't get her wrong, she loves those Pokemon, the ones that exist in her life outside of being tools. (God, she's really going in on the serial killer vibe.)

Her dad's Throh, it always loved to give her piggyback rides, help her pluck weeds from the garden, pick her up from school. Mom's neighbor had a Litleo that'd steal ham slices out of her lunch boxes, but it would be there for her when the Pidoves started to swoop. 

The lack of control on those Pidoves, no matter how loudly she shrieked and how fast she ran, ended up being the first stone to fall. Then she was in elementary school, the only girl without her very own partner.

She'd sit on the bench, watch classmates shriek with joy in that dusty circle serving as a battle arena, and eat around the slices of tomato in her sandwich. Still nothing. No dice.

Pomni's foray into adult life didn't variate much further. College had her dodging frat bro's overenthusiastic Eelektross, almost getting knocked out by stray Hyper Beams and Ice Beams and fire beams and whatever beams. 

This would probably be where the serial killer part of her story would start to shine if not for a snag on the road–

Most jobs required you to list your team. 

Even office work, accountant work– Pokemon had their place just as people did, and you couldn't let a Pyroar go rampaging around the office without an up-to-code fire escape, now could you?

Caught between a rock and a hard place, she chose the easier option. To pursue her real passion (making enough money to afford take-out for dinner every day and preferably an apartment with it too) meant having to bite the bullet.

Turns out, Pomni's interest in wrestling with wild rodents hadn't increased over the years. 

Call it untraditional, but she walked to a Pokemon shelter on a freezing cold morning, the last semester of college because of course she had to pile all her stressors into a tiny time frame. 

And Pomni got an Eevee.

She's not an idiot. She's well aware how stupidly over saturated this specific Pokemon is, from Eevee umbrellas to Eevee journals and even shiny Eevee lattes flavored like Earl Grey. 

Maybe that was half the point? She got the Pokeball in hand, walked home, and only then got to take a good look at her new bundle of joy, an apparent blessing upon her life that would arise her so, so many promotions and social cliques.

This Eevee might not have liked her then, but she sure as hell has to like her now.

The thing with Zubats is that, once you find one, you're damned if you don't find another. Or a few others. Or an entire roost of them, Golbat inclusive, as Pomni and Marmalade have stumbled upon. 

They do that, informs an incredibly useful Rotomdex search. Great, she thinks. Now what the fuck is she meant to do about it?

The dusk splits the sky in sheets of purple-orange-pink-dark. 

A few yards behind her house-gym-pending is a gnarled tree. It looks almost like a Pokemon itself. Each white dead limb curled around itself in twisting malice, gaping holes like eyes peering from the heartwood, the twisted claws of its roots, planted firm into the soil. (Loamy soil, her neighbor scared of Venipedes informed her very enthusiastically. Good for beginner berry farmers.)

Pomni knows as much about Pokemon habitats as she does berries. She lived in a city for Arceus' sake, she saw Pidoves and Purrloins and if she was lucky, a Watchog. Marmalade herself was an invasive species for those cities. She needed a tag and a microchip and registration and a leash and everything, to assure the public she is very tame and she only bites human Pomni's.

Nothing like these crawling purple things inside of that very tree. They weren't native to her Unova, but she'd be damned if she didn't stumble across a Zubat in her new home, out in the middle of the wilderness. St. Lombre had tons of super interesting, rich history. Why Zubats were here probably had a reason. Pomni does not care enough to know.

The dual holes, etched like burn marks into the bark, sit right on the west end of the tree, facing her bedroom window and appearing like eyes.

Yeah, so, there are Zubats in them. 

Writhing gaped mouths of all fangs. A flittering body or a dozen burst out the exits and swarm into the forest, low and creaky Kricketot calls dancing through the branches.

"They're what's chewing into the rafters," Pomni bemoans. "That's all the scraping! House settling, alright."

Marmalade, disgusted by the presence of the other Pokemon, the flying gnashing things, simply curls behind her calves in discontent. A bristling tawny tail and flashing dark eyes. Likely upset at the forced proximity.

At first she was feeling something similar. Holy shit, there's purple coming out of my tree, I thought this dumb property had ghost insurance.

Now she begrudgingly approaches the roost. It's late. She has to do her own pest control, doesn't she? The flapping halts, the shadow of the tree a stark line towards her. Near twenty feet tall in its prime, it now slouches down towards her as if drunken, petrified wood from the humid heat almost daring to disintegrate at a touch.

How does an entire Zubat roost get in there, even? Colonies of Joltik in abandoned buildings don't get as bad as this, and those things are a third of a Zubat's wingspan! 

Pomni is joined by Marmalade at her heels, the Eevee letting out tiny little yaps every time one of the bat Pokemon return from their night hunting. Some of them carry berries and bug Pokemon.

She shines her light into the nearest hollow, and a flurry of blue escapes the beam in flutter-flutter-flap-flap-squeak. 

Maybe there are baby Zubats in here. Needing to be fed by the older ones, to get big and strong and chew through the ancient wooden panels of her house. 

Pomni doesn't want to disturb the theoretical Zubat babies. 

Her head goes up and in. The tree is massive width-wise too. Was it the home of this colony even before it died? Or did the Zubats kill the tree, hollowing it out with their tiny little teeth?

Pomni looks. 

She never figured Zubats clung to the inside of the tree like this, tiny little wing claws hooking their legless bodies into the bark. Almost like Woobats– she saw a diagram of them once. Fluffy little cotton balls that attached themselves to ceilings of caves until it looked like all the rocks were covered in mold.

Marmalade pounces onto her shoulder blades and it startles her so badly she nearly takes out a chunk of wood. The Zubats chitter, electronic sounding almost, lasers of displeasure at the disturbances.

The Eevee sticks her head over her shoulder once she's gained balance, and Pomni is allowed to continue.

"Heads up next time, please," she requests her Pokemon.

Marmalade sighs louder than any fluffy little Eevee should have any business doing, and Pomni gives up.

The Zubats return to sight once she lifts her flashlight again. They overlap each other like scales almost, but always conscious not to hook their flock mates' delicate wing membranes with their claws. 

It's cute, almost, if it didn't totally remind her of some sort of movie alien. A writhing mass of things.

Pomni's not the type to get squeamish easily, though. Her eyes track the upwards motion, the way these Pokemon symbiotically move in the same direction once her beam flickers onto a batch of them.

Her search is pretty much in vain. There's no Golbat in sight. 

That's definitely a shame, seeing as the broodmother did swipe one of her Pokemon just a few minutes ago. Turns out, whatever exercise her Chingling does while helping her file papers is null in the face of a feral Pokemon with a Bug-type move. 

Pomni's near to giving up when she's swept the hollow a dozen times, when the detritus starts flecking onto her button-up and the smell starts really getting to her. She can call some guys from the League to get rid of this, maybe.

That's at her discretion, right? Maybe a couple Rangers would like to rehome these guys off of her property. 

Wait a minute. Zubats– don't they live in caves...? The whole thing about Zubat Caves in Kanto tends to breach international borders, being so infamous.

Pomni sees a flash of green in the sea of violet. 

Her eyes pop out of her skull. "Is that a shiny–"

A few series of events occur in rapid succession, so fast that her brain really doesn't know how to categorize them. Maybe sensations first?

With her sight, her light drops and she's buried in this Zubat hole, dead dark. In her hand is a lack of flashlight.

Her hand is really not responding to anything she does, that's. Not great. 

Oh, maybe the hulking Pokemon taking Marmalade's place on her back with sharper claws and teeth has something to do with it.

Her neck pinches, and, yeah. That doesn't feel nice.

Pomni's entire body spasms and she doesn't even get to register being dragged off by the Golbat.

What a warm welcome.  

Getting into an abandoned Pokemon Gym's record keeping did align a lot with Pomni's vision of the future. Mostly.

She wanted to help people, she wanted a paying job, she wanted people to get out of her hair about wasting her twenties away in a stuffy Castelia city office... all of it just clicked. Never like anything else before.

Southwest of her usual stomping grounds in the metropolitan led her to this rural town.

Barely a town, more like, the happenings of little homesteads and properties tied up within a national forest system. It's marshy and humid, and thanks to the grandness of the continent it's entirely different to her hometown. Soupy. No snow. Mosquitos bigger than her head.

Pokemon, too, change out here. No Pidoves. These little grey and white Flying-types that she catches singing on her neighbor's fence line at dawn, scuffling with each other about the Pecha berries they'd foraged, along with somewhat familiar crawly Bug Pokemon in the form of Caterpies.

Her neighbor, Ragatha J. Ackerman (accomplished rancher and berry farmer, but don't forget about the plaques of Ponyta hurdling ribbons on her wall! She wouldn't let you anyway), is more than happy to enlighten her on this.

"Well, the city's got an awful problem with, well, exotics. It's on one of the big trade routes for smuggled Pokemon, and with it being a Contest Show central..."

Pomni's far from interested in the goings ons of St. Lombre. (Even if all that unchecked overseas Pokemon is more than enough for not even one lawsuit, but a dozen! The Pidove subspecies went extinct barely half a century ago, are we so quick to forget?!)

She's a country girl now. She can handle her mysterious Pokemon in her yard that her dex doesn't even register as Pokemon, and she will suck it up and deal with it.

Her method of sucking it up and dealing with it looks a lot like booking it straight to the nearest Ranger's station. 

Waking up in mushy grass in her yard, a little past dawn, doesn't bode well for the rest of her now-exclusively theoretical solo journey. How had a bat knocked her out so bad? Twelve hours or something like that, jeez. She's not the professional equipped to deal with this. She will let someone else get turned into Pokesnacks.

Marmalade, having not walked off and abandoned her in the night much to her surprise, does not seem too pleased about her Trainer's sudden pursuit of a brisk jog down the country lane. Her tail lashes, ears darting back and amber eyes flickering up in disbelief to Pomni.

She wishes she could sit her down and explain, neither of us are very competent at all, let's let whoever mans this station deal with the invasive Pokemon instead.

However, she can't do that. When the cabin rises high above the sparse swamp trees, universal Pokeball stamped out into it through differently toned wood planks, all she can do is grab Marmalade and walk inside as purposefully as she can.

It's some sort of blend between Pokecenter and a resort lodge. A three dimensional resin map of the area serving as a centerpiece, comfortable mismatched armchairs littered around an empty fireplace, and a polished self-serve healing counter parallel to the door. A free PC too, though by the looks of it, dusty and dated a decade back, it's less of an amenity and just another decoration.

Rustic, she thinks. Her mother would call it something more akin to a country bumpkin shithole.

Marmalade's little feet patter on the counter, released after she was squirming a little too hard. Pomni roots through her handbag in disarray. Which Pokeball was Chimecho's again? Shit.

It won't be too much of an issue, seeing as she has two occupied ones and the third was left somewhere in her house. Pomni sticks the balls into the little ports on the machine and steps back while it does it's thing.

There's a staircase leading to a loft, she notices after the briefest of sweeps. No other humans make themselves known on this bottom floor, especially not in the little room she approaches that holds historic replicas of Pokemon fossils. That place looks as ancient as the PC.

This is definitely the right place, though. Lending to how remote this place is from the nearest city, the routes need upkeep from twenty-four-seven volunteers. A national park needs its security to stop vacationer kids with their Centiskorches from razing the place as well. Rangers seem to wear both those hats here.

Pomni's barely a step up before the balcony railings start shuddering. 

Not ideal. She flings herself at the solid wall and glowers up at whatever's making such a racket. Evidently, a Pokemon, as her Rotom Phone chirps with detection of a new species logged by call.

It's another fucking Zubat.

Or at least– she sees purple, sees membraned wings, sort of comes to that assumption before going into a full-tilt sprint back to her Pokemon.

Marmalade, deeply unbothered, inspects as Pomni drops all her Pokeballs, whispers frantic curses as the thing just gets louder. She scoops her Pokemon up, hellbent on walking all the way back to Castelia.

A proper, human voice stops her in her ttracks.

"Who's that?" 

It goes dead quiet, the shrill squeaks all but a memory. Like the alarm system got turned right off or something, the speaker being an unbothered security guard to a museum or something.

Hold on– Pomni jolts upright, clutching the Pokeballs to her heaving chest. A person!

"Sorry," she calls out. "Sorry, uh, are you a Ranger?"

When the silence follows, though in a way where it's haunted by displeasure tinting the dead air somehow, she speaks again. "...I need some Pokemon help?"

Pomni hears a distinct, human groan. It's definitely from up above, in that loft. What an enthusiastic Ranger.

She watches as she comes down the staircase, though, and right enough, it is a Ranger. A form fitting black shirt, red jacket in the process of being pulled over her sinewy arms. 

She lets out a little huff once she sees Pomni, probably all moony-eyed like Cresselia had came and blessed her, and smooths her ears back.

The illusion is broken once a deep purple bat comes diving onto her shoulders, and Pomni finds herself wincing before she even sees contact.

"You scared of Crobats?" Laughs the Ranger. "No wonder you've got Pokemon problems."

She uncovers her eyes, glaring up at her and her presumably partner Crobat. It's sort of effortlessly intimidating, the sharp bend of its wings, downturned mouth and little golden chips of intelligent eyes. Pomni swallows.

"Ranger Jax on duty, how can I help you this morning."

Jax's intonation is supremely flat, disinterested, far away. Like she'd rather be far away. Like the picturesque life of living in a remote cabin with few neighbors, paid out of pocket by the government, and saving Pokemon all day is just not enough for her.

Pomni glances at Marmalade. Marmalade avoids her, instead eyeing up the new Trainer with more interest than she's ever seen from her in their shared life. Pomni sighs.

She sticks her hand out, drops a Pokeball, grabs it out of the air, tries again with an awkward little cough.

"Hi! I'm, uh, Pomni Brooks. A new neighbor..? South of Miss Ackerman's, if– if you know her."

Jax doesn't indicate one way or another. She gives Pomni a once over that makes her feel peeled like a roasted Pecha berry, examined all over with those bright, bright yellow eyes like she's nothing but a particularly egregious worm on her path.

She cracks her knuckles, leans back to give Marmalade a look instead of shaking Pomni's outstretched hand. Great. They've found solidarity in each other, Jax's brow raising in the smallest modicum of engagement to the Eevee.

"I'm gonna assume that's yours," she says dubiously.

Pomni blinks, tries to coax Marmalade into her arms after feeling a particularly horrifying embarrassment for no obvious reason. The Eevee does not obey.

"Yeah, she's– her name's Marmalade. Sort of bitey, sort of doesn't like battling or, me..." Pomni clears her throat.

She puts on her best business pitch voice, "Look, uh, you might know that the property has been pretty untouched. Abandoned for– I can't remember how long, but, uh, long enough for a roost of Zubats to start chewing on the foundations."

Pomni pauses then, seeking out at least some acknowledgement she was even listening, that her words were reaching her tall ears.

Nothing. 

Undeterred and maybe a little pissed, she finishes her plea for help with a narrowed brow.

"So, some help to get them back to a cave... would be much appreciated." 

Jax gives her a sidelong look, fingers tapping along her belt loop. Six shiny Pokeballs– all of them a hue of violet– dangle from that harness, glossy stickers on each capsule.

She barks out a sudden laugh, drawing Pomni's attention with a jump. Then she outreaches her arm. Marmalade, horrifyingly, leaps onto it as if she was made to, like some sort of show Eevee commanded to jump through hurdles and run through tubes.

"Oh, those Zubats!" Jax exclaims, wide eyed, near dangerous.

Pomni almost springs a foot in the air when her red glove comes slamming down on her shoulder, starts jostling her forward towards the exit. She can't do much but skitter along next to her, overwhelmed and a bit infuriated and a lot terrified of the looming Crobat on her back.

The humid air outside hits her like a Hydro Pump, and Pomni makes a weak, defeated noise. Ah. Walking back.

"You should'a said. Those suckers," a little self-satisfied cough. How funny. "Are so, super invasive. Can't let them get out of the park, otherwise there'll be Woobat fluff all over the marsh. Thanks for the tip, kiddo."

Pomni tosses her shoulder to throw her hand off of her, clears her throat once the cotton fades from her head. "What– invasive? What's the Crobat doing here, then?"

"Uh," Jax scoffs in the way all Trainers tend to, when Pomni asks a seemingly incorrect or amusing question. She pedals her hand in the air. "Same reason you've got an Eevee, duh."

The Crobat makes a noise like metal grinding against metal, high and throaty and loud. It has a bit of a staccato to it. Like– like the Pokemon is laughing at her, too.

Pomni shrinks, twisting her hands over each other in an attempt to not smack the both of them.

Soon this will be out of the way and her existence will be back to paperwork, coffee on a back porch, and an occasional pet on an Eevee with soft, fluffy fur. None of this condescension, if she has any say in it.

Jax gives her a beaming smile once she– of course– notices her silent tantrum.

Great.

Pomni is a bit appreciative to her company for a moment.

Zubats could be like lightning, right? Attacking the biggest thing it sees? That's why Marmalade came out unscathed of course, her being particularly little for an Eevee, and quite nippy for one, too. As far as Pomni's aware, she is safe. 

As safe one could be in the presence of a Ranger who has done nothing but demean her for the last ten minutes.

Jax swings around the building sat in the middle of the property, swaggers her way over to the tree in question. It had been described to her minutes prior. She walks around like she owns the place, maybe because of that.

"Oh, so, the tree looks like it has eyes, so that means it's a Zubat roost?"

"I literally saw the Zubats in the– urgh!"

Crobat had swung itself off of her shoulders in a surprisingly elegant fashion, folding its wings in close to its body and dropping like a Swanna into a lake. Only that it snapped those long wings far open and started flapping wide, encompassing circles around the tree.

Pomni watches uneasily. Some stupid fear comes up to her as she works, a little crabby voice that wonders in her head if there were any Zubats at all. Is she just making a bad impression because of her stupid fantasies? Had it been Marmalade that bit her, and she just fell asleep naturally afterwards and dreamed up an insane, quite batshit story-

"Oh, hell. Yeah, that's a nest alright," Jax says, a low whistle following. 

A little blue Zubat, almost like it was summoned to prove her point, goes careening out the hollow top– Crobat is so much quicker, herds it back to it's home with a squeaky scolding. 

"Didn't need you to figure that out for me," Pomni mutters darkly. She thinks she catches Jax catching that (weirdly, her smile must've craned wider), so she moves on. "Okay. Now what?"

Jax spins on her foot, tearing Marmalade from her shoulder and dropping the Eevee onto Pomni's head. She shouts a little– ow, the claws!

"You just sit tight, all cozy here, and let me deal with it."

Her voice is crooning, sugary sweet, body tipped down slightly as if a weak attempt to match Pomni's level. Jax's eyes crease into little mischievous slivers.

And oh, Pomni is pissed.

"What– this is my house–"

Jax gives a meaningful glance over her shoulder. Sure, once a house, converted into a gym and back again. Doesn't matter, seeing as it's falling apart, all cause of those stupid bats. 

Pomni growls, "And I can handle watching you do your job– which, okay," she fans her hands out. "You've barely done shit except be an asshole. So excuse me if I want to make sure you don't sit on your ass and waste my time, alright–"

"Wow," Jax exclaims. "Got a mouth on you, Pomni."

Pomni goes dead silent, glares as hard as she can, although she feels as intimidating as a Caterpie. Not even a Weedle. A Caterpie.

Jax doesn't look cowed in any way, shape or form, but she does give Pomni her space, a long stride backwards as she chuckles to herself. 

"Okay, okay. Heard, office girl." 

Pomni is briefly stunned at how that had worked– but then she's scampering up next to her, eyes narrowed to try and figure out what she'd do next. She has to figure out her technique so she never see this awful Ranger on her property again.

Jax fishes a Pokeball off of her belt, gives it a toss in the air. "I do mean it when I say let me handle it, though. That Eevee you've got would make great Zubat food."

Before she gets the chance to respond, Jax presses the release button. 

Pomni's squinting against the crimson light, blinding from the device as the Pokemon occupying bursts out. Then she blinks the afterimage away, and she sees it.

A huge Pokemon, ebbing and flowing in the gentle breeze as if weightless. It is– with a tip of it's head, covered by something like a witch's hat, it glides right off the ground and extends what could be ribbons, in a hello to it's Trainer.

Pomni isn't unfamiliar with Ghost type Pokemon. They're a lot more common than you would think, especially in the further edges of Castelia city, the metropolis fading out and leaving abandoned warehouses, family homes centuries old and graveyards. 

Her fascination, or maybe horror, started when she was eight.

She had an issue with sleeping in her mother's house. First it was attributed to childhood nightmares, the sort of thing caused by stress and too many sweets before bedtime. Then she woke up to glowing yellow eyes suspended over her bed, mouthless face peering down at her in the same cadence of a Pyroar sizing up its prey. 

Like all Ghost types, this one floating in front of her is elegant and cool, if not for the almost uncanny attachment it has to it's trainer. It's cloak extends out to her. From under the rim of its cap it looks at Pomni, and its eyes squint in a smile.

"Lav, use Power Gem. Shake 'em out, try not to faint too many," Jax's voice is pointed and resolute. "When they fly, block them from the sun. Violet, guide them to the cave on Route Six with Supersonic."

Barely a split second and the Pokemon fall easily into their tasks. The Ghost Pokemon chitters a small laugh as it passes by Jax, but then it's summoning sharp little gems, lodging them like darts into the pale bark.

Rattle, rattle.

A dozen fly out at first, quickly halted by Crobat, which spreads its wings and lets out a cry so high pitched Pomni can't hear it.

Then it's like hundreds of them billow out of the channels like a dark smog of violet, a giant organism in itself. Flapping wings and weak cries. Soon enough they're all bundled into one cloud, collecting around each other in the broad daylight.

A psychic barrier forms above the colony, and their distress dies down some. Crobat circles like a herding Boltund, keeping the Zubats contained while Jax seemingly looks out for something. Her brow is pitched down in deep focus, a far cry from her indifference moments before, that avoidance of anything too boring, such as office girls from Castelia. 

"Aha," she says, though Pomni has no idea what it is she's spotted. She flicks out a lasso from her belt and swings it into the cluster.

Jax catches Pomni's awe, spares her a cocky wink.

Then down comes something definitely not blue or purple– a green Zubat, tiny and flailing when it hits the grass. It thrashes around in its bind a few yards ahead of them, skin sparkling strangely.

So it was a shiny. Pomni hasn't actually seen one before, for much obvious reasons. They actually do seem to shimmer. Like seaglass. 

Marmalade extracts herself from where she'd been watching on Pomni's shoulder, goes careening through the dewy overgrown lawn to sniff at the strange little thing. 

Jax pulls the rope a bit taut. She inspects the Zubat at length, before straightening up to call a go-ahead to her Pokemon.

The colony is whisked away by the pair, and then it's quiet again. 

Little scratching noises no longer emanate from the hollow, just the tree's satisfied old creak, as it no longer has to bear the weight of hundreds of Pokemon. She didn't even know it was making noise, she was so used to it. Muddled up in the sound of wind and squeaky floorboards and Chimecho rattles. 

"Holy shit," she says finally, looking up to see Jax's almost expectant expression.

She shakes herself after a falter, goes walking down her line of rope to retrieve the shiny Pokemon. "Hah. Must be pretty impressive to you, huh? It's not that big of a deal, Pomni."

Jax nudges Marmalade away with her boot, bends down to scoop up the curiously green Zubat. It's skin has an almost iridescent gloss to it, not quite metallic, but like there's oilspills overlaid with a verdant mist. 

Weakly, it flaps. Then, cutely enough, it hooks its wings around Jax's chest and clings to her like she's it's new tree.

Jax looks mildly alarmed at this happening, pinprick pupils darting to judge Pomni's reaction. A red tinge to her cheeks. 

Then it's all smoothed out, and she goes straight to business.

"This guy's gonna go straight to kooky for research," she hums. "Better to keep it separate from the colony. Maybe even get somebody to catch it– you in the market for a green Zubat?"

Pomni blinks. "Uh, no thanks," she shivers at the phantom imprint of fangs on her nape.

Kooky could only be that strange scientist that lives deeper in the marsh, the one who showed up on her porch and started sticking Joltiks and Spinaraks in corners of the house because she had mentioned an infestation of Sewaddles. Which, that did help, but now she has a Galvantula crawling around in her attic, so. 

"Why does it need to be away from the others?" It seems kind of depressing. Ripped away from your family for being particularly special, a reason it can't quite grasp in it's little mind.

Jax takes on a similar tone she used when commanding her Pokemon– more straightforward, less layers and more just information. She smooths her hand over the Zubat's back while speaking, subconscious, small, noticeable to Pomni all the same.

"Pokemon with discolorations don't live very happy lives in the wild. Especially in groups. If it were, say, a Leavanny, it'd be fine. But the others don't see it as their own and attack it, or try to leave it behind on migrations. Guess they're scared that it's sick." 

Pomni looks at the Zubat. It's small, skinnier than what she had seen of its flockmates. Little scars line its back, small indents on the rims of its ears.

She remembers her mother's Chandelure wanting nothing to do with her Cherrim, nearing three decades old and wilting. It soon became clear it was because he was dying, a danger to the newest resident of the home. 

"Oh," Pomni says simply. 

Nothing else comes to her– how could she expect Pokemon to have human intelligence, morals? They do what they can to survive. 

Jax blinks a couple times, seems almost relieved at the lack of followup questions. Her smile grows to split her face again, and Pomni ducks inside to grab a blanket for the Zubat. Apparently they're sensitive to light, especially in the day. She feels a pang of guilt for how she had blinded the whole colony with her flashlight just before.

"Is there anything else I could– well, help with...?" 

A sheepish shrug once the two of them make their way to the front of the lot. Her heart rests heavy with the need to do anything. Nothing comes to mind. At the end of the day, she is born and raised Castelia, and has no idea about all the intricacies behind herding Zubats and the country at large.

Jax shakes her head, "Nope. Your ogling has been real thoughtful," Pomni stiffens. "But I've got it. Needa' stop by to see the old man anyways, good enough of an excuse."

"Okay."

"Well, just one thing," Jax had paused a little after her admittedly pathetic assertion, like she was reconsidering. Pomni lights up just a bit, drawing out another, softer grin. "If my Pokemon come haunting your yard, tell them where I'm at. Or freak out, doesn't matter."

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully, and then nods insistently.

"Yeah. Sounds good, Jax– uh," a curious tilt to her head. "Which one's Violet and which one's Lav? Is it short for Lavender?"

Jax's eyes draw open big, saucers of gold as she stares, aghast at Pomni. Like it wasn't an entirely normal question. It was like something else entirely, when her face burnt up, ears pinning back in dismay. Yikes, what's got her so embarrassed?

"One's Crobat, the other's Mismagius," which isn't exactly an answer, but with how she spits it out she's resigned to it.

"Work's calling. Gotta go– see you around, Pomni. You and your Eevee that hates you."

She jolts, "Oh– uh, see you?"

Jax waves her off, still prickly about whatever Pomni had done to her, but still leaving her with a laugh as she goes trotting down the trail to the main road. Marmalade chases her halfway, apparently energized by her favorite person's departure. She was half convinced she was going to ditch her for a bit there. 

Pomni catches herself standing there in her absence for a long while afterwards. Even when Marmalade comes stomping over to collect at her feet, grumpy, she doesn't move. 

Well, she justifies to herself later on, peeling away from her spot where she was serving statue. It's nice to know the Rangers around here.

Even if they're abysmally rude, they tend to be competent. And caring. And pretty.

Fuck. 

Why didn't anyone warn her about this?