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The Diamond Clan had, over time, come up with several clever methods for keeping warm in Hisui's harsh cold, and not a single one of them was working.
The coals in Melli's hearth glowed warm orange without seeming to affect the temperature of the air. His beloved hat, pulled down low over his ears, only put pressure on his temples. And his lush Purugly fur blanket weighed him down like it held the weight of a boulder.
No matter how much he wore himself out rolling over beneath the crushing weight of his blankets, he never quite managed to fall asleep. Shivers wracked him, and the constant shifting made his neck ache, and the light from the fire stabbed his eyes. All the warmth stopped skin deep, and all the agony sank straight down into his core.
The darkness stretched out, until at last the sound of the bird Pokémon heralded the dawn. And with the dawn... with the dawn...
Oh, no... Melli sat up with a groan, shivering violently when his blankets slipped off his shoulders. He snatched them up again, drawing his favorite up over his head and shoulders like a shawl.
The Purugly fur brushed his cheek, and even that managed to be irritating, somehow, against his heated skin. No, no, no. How could anyone feel this bad? He was going to be late attending to Lord Electrode!
The day stretched out before him, and all his muscles ached like the effort of all those hours hit him at once. He'd have to get up and face the cold, change into his uniform, let the blanket go... Eat something, walk to Moonview Arena, find the strength to polish Electrode and forage salt and— and—
Melli bent forward and buried his face in his hands, his sore neck sending shockwaves all the way around his head. So much for the great Melli. Undone by one sleepless night. Unraveling in the face of a challenge too great for one man to face, even a man as spectacular as he...
Booms like thunderclaps rattled the windows. Melli jerked and found himself on his feet in front of the door, processing the cold, painful journey in retrospect. His back hurt from hunching over— had he fallen asleep?! He clutched his blanket and fell against the doorframe, bowing his aching head.
The knocking continued as his hand made a shaky trajectory for the door. Standing. Standing was a trial. Something was wrong with him.
At last, Melli batted the door open. A blast of cold air greeted him, and the resultant shriek of discomfort became more of a yelp, his muscles simply refusing to facilitate any real volume.
Nobody at his eyeline... He dropped his gaze.
Lian!
He stood there with his hands on his hips, his brows pulled down and lip set. "What's the big idea?" he thundered. "You made me walk all this way to spar with you, and you don't even have the decency to show up?"
Ah. He'd forgotten all about it. Melli took a breath to reply and could only shiver, his back aching. He leaned harder on the doorframe, fighting the urge to sink to the floor at Lian's feet. "S-sorry."
That seemed to take the wind out of Lian's sails. He recoiled, his expression clearing before settling into suspicion. "You're sorry?"
Heralded by the rustle of pine needles, the frigid wind blew Melli's hair back, cutting right through him. He shuddered and pulled his blanket tighter around him, backing away from the solidity of the wall. Down a point of contact, he had to sway to keep his feet, blinking in the dull pain radiating up from the back of his neck. "Shut the door."
"What," said Lian, "without coming in?"
Melli waved a hand at him and backed up, careful not to trip over the hearth. Finding his mattress beneath his heels, he sank down onto it and buried his head in his hands. "Are you inviting me in or not?" Lian demanded. "You're acting very strange, old man."
Old man?! Melli raised his head a few degrees and glowered at Lian, unable to quite open his eyes all the way. "Come in then, you lout. Just shut the door, would you?" He buried his face in his hands again, working his hat down over his eyes for good measure. So Lian was here. Wonderful. Now what?
Lian gave a low whistle. "So this is the real Warden Melli, huh? Lazy and uncouth, just as I'd suspected." Too loud. Too cold. "Your lord really doesn't mind you sleeping in like this?"
Oh, no. Electrode. Melli shifted to get up and drew a long groan out of himself, muffled into his sweating palms.
"Are you sick, or what?" Lian's voice sounded much closer now.
Melli peeked at him over his fingertips. "O-of course not. The great Melli simply likes to take his time in the mornings."
For a moment, Lian was quiet, only cocking his head in silent scrutiny. At last, he said, "Take your time?" and the whole thing fell apart with a nasty sensation of plummeting from a great height. Roughly, he pushed Melli's forehead away from his hands until his face was exposed, and Melli just let him, his vacant gaze falling somewhere around Lian's neck. Lian whistled again. "Warden, you're on fire."
"M'not." With an effort, Melli focused on Lian's face.
"You have a fever."
Melli shook his head. "It's nothing."
"Nothing? You can barely sit up!"
This was a challenge that called for answer. Melli braced himself to rise (to his full, impressive height) but his knees wobbled before he could even try. He took a breath and tried again, but only rose a few centimeters before Lian caught his shoulders and pushed him back down. Little cheat.
"Stop it," Lian said, more like he was scolding a naughty Pokémon. "Don't exert yourself. I don't care how great you think you are, nobody works with a fever like that. Nobody, you hear?"
All things considered, Melli's fighting spirit was starting to flag considerably. So what if he gave this irritating upstart free run of his house? The only thing he owned that couldn't be replaced was wrapped securely around his shoulders.
"Do as you like," Melli said with a huff.
"As I like," Lian repeated, and scoffed. "As I must. Lie back."
The urge to argue came as naturally as the urge to breathe, but breathing was enough of an effort with Melli as sore as he was, so he just unfolded himself across his bed, then wore himself out struggling to get his blanket over him.
"I can help," Lian said.
Melli shook his head violently, fingers curling over the soft Purugly fur. "Don't touch it."
"Alright, alright." Lian held up his palms. "I'm serious, you need to relax. Is it not getting through your head that you're sick?"
"Oh, I'm very aware," Melli growled, at last getting his blanket how he wanted it. "Are you aware that—" A wave of exhaustion stole the words from his mouth. He blinked slowly, suddenly very warm. "That you're..."
Lian appeared over him, chewing on his leather stampede string.
"Never mind," Melli mumbled, and closed his eyes.
—
"Lian!"
Melli shifted under his blankets.
"Not so loud, Ingo!"
"My apologies. I was merely startled at your being here. Is Melli at home?"
Ingo...? Not worth getting up for. Lian would handle it.
"See for yourself."
Traitor.
"Oh, dear." A pause and a scuffling sound, probably Ingo removing his shoes. "How long has he been like this?"
"I don't know. I showed up this morning and found him sicker than a beached Tentacool."
Shuffling footsteps. Cool hand on his forehead. "Melli?"
That... Oh, that was nice. He was freezing under the blankets, but his skin burned anyway. It must have been Ingo's hand, but it was such a balm that it didn't matter.
The hand started to withdraw. Melli mewled like a newborn Glameow and fumbled for it, clutching the cool palm to his cheek.
Ingo's breath hitched. "Er, Lian. Would you mind following the track to the Diamond settlement? Adaman should know about this."
"Right!" Lian's footsteps scampered away. The door opened and shut. Melli held tight to Ingo's hand, though it had already gone warm.
"Melli?" Ingo whispered, somehow still managing to be loud. He tapped Melli's other cheek, presumably with his other hand.
"How grateful you should be," Melli mumbled, reaching up to tap Ingo's cheek in turn. "Witnessing me in such a— a rare moment of weakness."
Ingo's expression softened into something so tender it made Melli want to recoil. But with only the pillows behind him, there was nowhere to go.
"Lucky indeed," Ingo said, pushing Melli's hand down and tucking the blanket over his shoulders.
"Don't touch that," Melli snapped, all reflex.
Ingo withdrew his hands and held them up in surrender. "My apologies. Is it important to you?"
"Never mind." Melli sighed and tried to wiggle one hand free to scrub at his face, but Ingo had tucked him in thoroughly. "I'm alive, as you can see. You can go." Ingo had outstayed his usefulness the moment his palm had heated up, and his being here was... It was... Aggravating.
Ingo ignored him. "I am sorry for the instrusion, Melli. Lian let me in. I'm afraid my knowledge of medicines is still lacking, but I can make you more comfortable."
It should have been a pleasure. Ingo serving him! In his own home, no less. But something about the situation chafed. Lying here useless, helpless. At Ingo's mercy.
"Melli?" Ingo held up a hand like he wanted to touch Melli again, but thought better of it. "I can help you."
Lian, Ingo, they were being so nice. So gentle with him. Melli's eyes slipped shut.
He wasn't quite sleeping, some part of his mind processing the sounds of Ingo moving about his quarters.
Something cool touched his face, tracing damp paths across his temple and down his cheek. "I don't mean to overstep," Ingo whispered, actually quiet this time. "But you're hurting."
Melli sighed, slow and deep, unable to resent him. "Careful," was all he could manage.
"The blanket," Ingo agreed, and folded it down. "I'm keeping an eye on it."
Melli reached out for him, cupped his hand around the back of Ingo's neck, his eyesjust barely open. "My mother..."
A cool, damp stroke down his temple. "She made it for you?"
"Let me finish." The corners of Ingo's eyes crinkled, unearned fondness. "I do apologize. I'm listening."
"My mother made it for me."
Ingo laughed and pressed another corner of the damp cloth to Melli's forehead. "Perhaps you're not as poorly off as I thought you were."