Electric 2.2: Worlds That Never Were
Cuicatl
2010
A low hum of disapproval fills your mind.
{You’re hurt.}
“Yeah, I know.” You scout for your favorite spot with your feet and then sit down. “Thanks for telling me.”
{I warned you about overusing your powers.}
“You did.”
Why does Renfield care? He doesn’t have to deal with your headaches.
{Ah, but I care about you. If you’re hurt, I’m upset.}
“Why care?” you grumble. “Mom’s been dead for years. You could’ve left.”
When Renfield laughs it sounds like bubbles floating to the surface in your mind. Somehow. Maybe he can teach you. {When Danielle found me I was a mere solosis. I cared for nothing. Did nothing. Just sat still in the sunlight and attacked anything that came near. She raised me. Taught me strategy, empathy, history, literature, and music.}
“You can sing?”
More mind bubbles. {Well, she taught me how to appreciate music. She used to sing a lot.} Like you.
“Did she name me for that?” Cuicatl means song. Ichtaca Secret song. Or song of secrets.
Something swishes from side to side at your mind’s edge. No. {As I understand it your father named you. She would have picked… I suppose it doesn’t much matter.}
Right after she died dad went against mom’s wishes? Why? Did they each name one child? More swishing. {No. They could never agree on a name, or even what language the name should be in. I suspect that Danielle would have given names at birth and refused to accept others. As it were… the chance did not present itself.}
You pick up a pebble and roll it in your fingers. It helps you think. “They fought?”
{On occasion, yes.}
Your finger slips and the pebble falls. “Over what?” You reach down. Can’t find the exact pebble. Pick up another one. Coins are better but you aren’t allowed to have them unless you’re going to the store.
{They both loved you, even before you were born. They wanted the best for you but disagreed on what that entailed.}
There’s hesitation in his voice. Half-truths. You want to press him, but he knows what you’re thinking and since he’s not saying more he probably won’t if you challenged him aloud.
“What was my name supposed to be?”
{Child, you have nothing to gain by mourning worlds that never were.}
Mourning worlds that—now he’s just not making sense. On purpose. “Don’t care about worlds. Just want to know what my name was.” You wouldn’t actually use it. Dad would be mad. And your classmates already think you’re the enemy’s child.
Searah saves him with an excited squeal and the plodding of clawed feet. You smile and wave to her. The name can wait. She hugs you by gently placing her front claws onto your shoulders and pressing her warm, fuzzy body against your chest. She’s pretty heavy for her size and you need to press your hands back behind you to stay sitting up. Easier to hug her when you’re lying down.
“Hello, girl.” She backs away and sits down right in front of you before pressing her snout into you and sniffing all over. It’s weird. Freaked you out the first time. Now you think it’s cute. Her tongue flicks out and curls around your neck. “Okay, that’s enough.” You roll your eyes at the heatmor’s angry huff and stick your legs out so she can lie on them. She does.
Her fur is very warm. It’s nice for a cool, cloudy day in the mountains. The moment is simple, perfect. Still just a moment. It must end. Laundry and cooking left to do.
Searah protests as you try to move your legs out from under her. “Noooooooooooo.”
“Sorry, I have work to do.”
“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. More cuddles later?} You stroke her back as you slowly get to your feet. Legs aren’t asleep. If you’d stayed any longer they would’ve been.
“Of course. Cuddles later.” Wait. Is Renfield still here?
{Yes,} he thinks / says.
“You can move things with your mind, right?”
{Yes.}
“Then you’re helping me with laundry.”
{Can I come, too?!} Searah asks.
The thought of long claws cutting through cloth crosses your mind. “Not now. I’ll warm up some water later. You can light the fire for that. Or be the fire.”
{Fire!}
“Yes, fire. You’re very good at fire.”
A surge of pride flows into your mind as the heatmor stands up on her hind legs to hug you goodbye. You return it and your sister wanders off to find more bugs to eat.
[-23:03:00]
You have a plan for surviving this mountain.
First, keep track of your footsteps with a marching cadence. Second, match your breathing to it. Third, keep powering on whenever you trip. Fourth, think of nothing else but your breath and the cadence.
It’s not working very well but you’re still not willing to call it a bad plan. Judging by the sound of Kekoa and Genesis’s breathing they’re doing even worse.
“Break,” Genesis cries out between steps. You hear her lumber off the trail moments before her pack crashes into the ground. You’re happy to pull aside and gulp down water with her.
None of you understood how bad Route 12 was going to be. No shade, constant sunlight, and even the earth itself burns. You’re slowly being baked alive and the paths are all uphill and full of loose rocks. Pixie would help but you can’t keep her out in the heat and Coco… well, she’s still a hatchling. Dragon or not she tires quickly.
The last water bottle gets stowed away. Yet no one asks to end the break. “Maybe we could hike at night,” you suggest. “Less heat.”
“Too dark,” Genesis answers. You attempt to make eye contact, lids as far open as you can get them. “And, um, predators,” she quickly adds.
“I’d rather be awake when the houndoom come,” you reply in the best deadpan you can manage.
She shuts up and Kekoa softly laughs. It reminds you of every other conversation you’ve killed for being too dark, of everyone in town who feared the dragon girl too much to reach out. One day you were the stupid blind girl who kept getting held back or the child of the northern enemy. Then one day you were the baby sister of a hydreigon and everyone else stayed far away and hoped you forgot about everything that came before. Even the new kid who came to town was taught by your classmates to stay far away.
Kekoa breaks the silence. “Not at night. We’d be tired, make mistakes. Early mornings are fine.”
Funny. Right now you’re so tired that you could collapse right now and sleep in the warm sunlight. Maybe never get up.
That means you need to go. Now. Before you actually do stop moving and set up camp away from water.
“Ready to go?” you ask, even though you aren’t ready yourself.
Genesis groans but responds with a “Ready.” Kekoa lifts up his pack and takes a few steps onto the path before saying as much himself.
Breathing. Cadence. Breathing. Cadence. On and on and on.
[-22:18:25]
Kekoa and Genesis are setting up the tent and suspending the food bag. You’re sitting on what Kekoa insists is the least uncomfortable rock in the campsite running one hand through Coco’s feathers and the other through Pixie’s fur. This isn’t a bad place, all things considered. A stream runs nearby so there’s a small forest with some shade. Sure, it’ll draw predators and prey closer to camp, but most will leave the humans alone. Even the dragons have learned that humans are weak alone but will come back in bigger numbers and with stronger allies. Inferno will probably scare off the stupid and desperate. Not that you’d ever say that aloud with Pixie in earshot.
You’re going to cook today. Or at least warm some stuff up on a tiny stove. Anyone could do it. You certainly don’t want to. Not when your legs are dead and your arms also hurt for some reason. You will. The others are doing their chores. You won’t be deadweight. Not while you’re living out your dreams.
Footsteps approach and someone sits down beside you. Coco, traitor that she is, jumps off your lap and demands pets from her dad. Pixie immediately flicks her tails out to cover the space Coco was sitting.
“You okay?” Kekoa asks. You process the words and belatedly nod. “You don’t look okay.”
Rude.
At least he shuts up before he overstays his welcome.
For a while.
"Can't believe we're doing all this for some rich mainlanders." You tilt your head and angle it in his direction. "Some videos went viral of a pet dedenne. Now all the influencers and wine moms want one."
"Oh." It makes sense. Honestly you thought that people would just use them as generators or something.
You hear Genesis crash down some distance away. "When's dinner?"
Rude.
You stretch out and revel in the pain of a thousand aches. "Can you get me the stove and food?"
[-22:18:17]
Vegetables and rice are easy enough to warm up. What’s harder is hearing Genesis scrape her bowl clean while you and Kekoa wait for the meat. Even with Pixie’s cooler you still wouldn’t have brought any if Coco didn’t need it. Big health risk. You don’t want to get diarrhea in a place where you have to dig your own toilets. And Coco makes you chew and spit. It’s too close to something else. Having a Z-Ring that can make you puke doesn’t help with that.
You still do it for her. Coco breaks away from her father and thumps her tail on the ground to tell you that she’s present and wants her meal. It’s cute. Even if the rest is gross and makes you feel even grosser.
Pixie flicks a tail against your ankle to tell you that she is also present and would like food. Jealous little shit. You give her about half of your portion of meat. She keeps it cool so it’s her right. Besides, the vegetables are good.
Dinner’s quiet. As usual. Everyone’s tired and hungry.
You wouldn’t mind going to sleep soon. Especially if you’re going to get up early tomorrow.
But you should train.
It’s pretty hot still. Not fair to make Pix exercise.
Yeah. You’ll get some sleep before the tent gets crowded.
[-22:13:38]
You have to pee but there’s something outside. Somethings. Not talking. Just knocking pebbles around. Making quiet steps. One brushed by the tent a while back. Maybe you should wake Pix up. Maybe you shouldn’t. She would growl. It would either scare away whatever’s outside or start a fight you might not win.
A pokémon makes a soft grunt. Another agrees. Neither gets translated. Dark types? Or was there just no meaning in the sounds? There’s the soft trickling of water—scent marking over Pixie and Inferno, probably—and then the pokémon head out. Manectric? Houndoom? You wait another five, ten, maybe thirty minutes and hear nothing more. Gods you have to pee. Is it safe to go out? You want to wake up Genesis to have Inferno with you. She’s on the opposite side of the tent so that would wake up Kekoa. He’d give you shit.
You slowly start to lift yourself up, earning a soft yip from Pixie as you do so. There’s rustling next to you and you freeze up. Another shift. “You goin’ ow?” Kekoa drearily groans. Genesis starts moving as well.
“Yeah. Can Inferno come with?” The grass-type makes his distinctive leaf swish noise. Yes. You unzip the tent, awkwardly feel for your shoes, and step out into the surprisingly cool air with Coco and two foxes at your heels. After zipping the tent back up you reach for Pix and bring one of her tails to your leg. “Bring me to a rock.”
She starts walking off. Coco bounds away but you’re too focused on peeing to scold her. She barks and starts running towards you, tail dragging behind her and stirring up the gravel.
{New scent!} she says. {Like Sister. And fire!}
Houndoom, then. Inferno won’t do much good if they come back.
Pix flicks your leg. You’re far enough away from the tent and at a good enough place to pee on the rocks. Dry area. Pokémon look for the salt and moisture. If you peed on a plant it might get ripped up. Inferno would be sad. More sad, anyway. Still not sure what his deal is. If you ask you might get close and accidentally take him away from Genesis. It would be unfair.
A small rock falls a few meters away. All three pokémon abruptly stop and look towards it.
{Floating rock.} Pixie says.
“Arms?” you whisper.
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{Two.}
Oh. Could be worse. You start walking back to the tent and your pokémon reluctantly follow.
Genesis passes by on the way out. For a moment you consider telling her about the houndoom. You don’t. They’re gone now and she would get scared and freak out and then you would be on edge the whole night for no reason.
Plus, if they did come back and decided to attack, well, there’s probably nothing to be done.
[-22:09:14]
A bead of sweat hits the bridge of your nose. The cadence and rough breaths continue. One hits your shoulder. Not sweat. Rain. Just a sprinkle. A fat drop hits the top of your head. Another on the shoulder again. Another on—your knee, your back, back again, thigh—they blend together too much to keep track. Thunder. Loud, fast, sharp. Close. Another bolt just a little bit further away. Electric types. Electric types everywhere. You’re on a barren mountain ridge with electric types everywhere. And for once in your life, you’re the tallest thing around.
“There’s a valley to the side,” Kekoa says. “We need to get down.”
He’s right. But. “How steep?”
“Not too bad.”
“I… don’t want to trip and hurt my ankle again.”
“Yeah, well, you want to get electrocuted?”
Genesis slides down—roughly. If she’s struggling while sighted and with long legs—another bolt. Frighteningly close. The roar almost deafens your right ear. The hair on your arms rises up and you run to the side. As if you could dodge lightning. You feel it when your feet hit the incline and you start to slide down on a wave of pebbles. Bend down like your surfing on rocks. Keep going—
The next strike is so close that for a second you can hear nothing but faint ringing.
If you’re fucking deaf on top of everything—the slide breaks as you reflexively twitch and you fall flat on your face. Again. For the second time in two weeks. Don’t care. The rain intensifies and you’re drenched and cold and there are scrapes on your face and you still can’t hear much at all. No. You can hear the thunder again.
Cold comfort.
Maybe someone says something. Maybe they don’t. For a long time you lie face-down as water streams down all around you and thunder continues to rock the mountain. When it finally stops it’s just as fast as it came. A minute later you can count the drops again. Soon there are none at all.
Sharp stone edges meet your hands when you press yourself upright. It’s fine. You’ve faced worse. Just a quick pivot and a small shift to be facing uphill. “Are you alright?” Genesis asks. Voice full of concern.
“Yeah.” Sort of. You’re stronger than you look. Sometimes. Are you? Yes. Not doing this now. “How bad is the climb?”
Gravel shifts as heavy footsteps bound upwards like a capricurl walking on a cliff face. Kekoa probably. He confirms it a moment later. “Climb sucks. Jennifer and I can help you up.”
More footsteps. Far more slips. Genesis finally makes it up with no serious falls but much less grace than Kekoa. You pull the straps on your pack tighter and prepare to climb.
Kekoa does his best to guide you up the slope.
“Root to your right.”
“That patch looks loose. Half-step—shit, are you alright?”
You bite back a curse and steady yourself. The patch was loose and your left foot slipped at a bad angle. It pulses in pain within your boots. Bad, but not quite as bad as in the forest.
“How much left to go?” you demand.
The words are more aggressive in the air than they were in your mind.
“Uh, Jenny, can you see if you can reach her?”
She can. She does. The rest doesn’t hurt too badly. Soon you’re on mostly flat ground.
“’m fine.” Mostly. Fine enough to walk. “Thanks for the help.”
“You sure?” Kekoa’s makes it sound closer to: ‘You aren’t.’ “Looked bad. And that’s the ankle you hurt on Akala, right?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I can walk.”
You aren’t a burden whatever anyone says. The wilderness has always been your home. If you can hold your own anywhere it’s here.
“We can stop at the next campsite. Don’t have to go all the way to ours.”
Can’t he take a hint? You’re fine.
“Whatever,” you respond. “Ready to hike?”
Genesis grunts and Kekoa speaks: “Hike on.”
Cadence and breath. Right foot. Left—right foot. Long, quick strides and gentle steps. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’ve powered through far worse. The humidity is worse. Hot, sticky air that hangs on your skin like a wet blanket you can’t take off. That’s worse. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.
Kekoa’s footsteps stop and you try to stop. No. You take a step forward and rest on your right foot. Much better.
“I’m calling it here for the day.”
Idiot. “People will notice if we’re late.”
“We’ll be even later if you can’t walk ‘cause you hiked six miles on a bad foot to look tough.”
You want to fight. Insist that you can keep up. Aren’t the weak link. But he’s right. You are. Useless. Might as well admit it.
[-22:08:32]
“It’s not too swollen,” Kekoa says. “Just keep an ice pack on it.”
“We don’t have—" Pixie. Right.
You reach into your pack and release your pokémon. Coco roars at the air and thumps her tail in case you sent her into a fight. Pixie just swishes a tail against your leg to tell you she’s there. You reach back into the pack and pull out a rubber ball. Once Coco starts growling you toss it off for her to try and murder. Who knows how long it’ll last once she gets real teeth but it’s a nice distraction for now.
“Cool. Call me over if you need anything.”
Kekoa trudges away and you gently pick Pixie up and move her next to your ankle. With another quick movement you drape one of her tails over it. “Can you keep a tail there?”
She grunts and settles down. No complaints about the heat or Coco. Nothing to say at all. You messed up and pressed her too hard too fast. Broke her. As usual. Ankles, brothers, starters, selves. You’re a master at breaking things and a failure at fixing them.
Coco’s small but energetic footsteps come back and the ball drops with a ‘thud’ to the earth. You reach a hand out and hold it right over where you think the ball is. You shoot a finger down in a quick, teasing jab. Oh, this? This old thing? You want me to throw it, huh? Suddenly Coco leaps forward, bats your hand aside, and snatches the ball up in her jaws before running away. Odd. Usually, she just gets excited when you do that. For the best. Ball was coated in spit. Didn’t really want to touch it.
A cramp hits you right in the groin. You wince and awkwardly adjust your good leg in response. The trail hasn’t been good for you. Started eating too much. Period came back. You’d cut back but when you don’t eat and hike too much the world starts rocking and you start making dumb mistakes.
“Mother! Why are—" You silence her with headscritches. “I’m fine, Coco. Just laying an egg.”
She drops down to the ground. “New sister?” …you walked right into that one.
“No. Just an egg. Won’t hatch.”
She doesn’t get up but her tail starts swishing in the dirt. Doesn’t matter. She’ll get bored soon.
“Hey, Genesis!”
It takes her a second before she trots over. And finally answers. Like she couldn’t just call back from across the clearing like a normal person. “What?”
“Can you get me a tampon?”
“I, um, uh, yeah. Sure.”
Why is she embarrassed? She probably gets them most months, too. And she knows that Kekoa’s trans so there aren’t even any biological men here to get grossed out for no reason. Is she actually embarrassed or did you just catch her at a bad time? Ugh. Wish you could see blushes.
Genesis drops the tampon and some new underwear in your lap rather than just handing them to you. “Thanks.” Maybe you could lie down just a little bit longer? No. You like these shorts. Better take care of it now.
*
“Hey, uh, this is our campsite?” Some kid announces his arrival while you’re still getting changed under the rain fly. Coco reacts to the new voices by slipping under the fly and running out doing her best impression of Pixie’s barks. The fox herself just sighs. {You can talk to me about anything,} you tell her for the third or thirteenth or thirtieth time.
“Sorry! One of us got hurt in the storm so we stopped early,” Genesis says.
“They okay?” Another kid. Female? Or maybe just very young. Or both.
“Just tripped. I’m fine!” you announce as you leave the tent. It’s not the best line for making an entrance but it works. “I think there’s still room for two groups.” Going by clearing echoes, anyway. Most sites seem big enough. It’s a good guess. Satisfied that her mother can deal with the problem, Coco stops barking and runs back to you for praise. You bend down to give her scratches. Pixie butts in a second later for her share. You make sure to give her extra.
Sometimes you swear that you can hear staring. Only question is if they’re staring at you, Coco, or Kekoa. “You blind?” You, then.
“Yes.”
You’re blind and you hurt yourself (again) and he’ll tie the one to the other and he won’t be entirely wrong. Genesis didn’t trip. Neither did Kekoa.
“Cool. Ice-type trainer?”
What? Sure, you have Pix. But Coco’s. Oh.
“No. She’s not an ice-type. Just has white feathers.”
“We haven’t introduced ourselves, have we?” Genesis interjects. “I’m Genesis, she’s Cuicatl,” she says with mostly correct pronunciation, “and… that’s…”
By the suns. She set herself up. Kekoa’s either too far away or too uninterested or too cruel to finish so for a few seconds it just hangs in the air. “I’m Kekoa.”
He had to have noticed, right? Will he say anything? You’d been hoping to push back the Genesis-Kekoa fight until Pix had returned to something close to normal. Gods. Not here. Not with kids watching.
“Cool. You want to battle?” one asks. “I’m Ty. I am an ice-trainer and I want to fight your vulpix.”
Kekoa sighs. “I’ll ref.”
*
Pixie starts to growl. Eevee. Glaceon. You’re fighting a glaceon. Time to stall and put together a plan.
“How far are you in the challenge, Ty?”
“Two grand trials. Beat Sophocles and heading on to the next. You?”
If you ever had hopes of winning a slugfest they’re gone now. “One trial.”
Ice shard’s as good as useless. Left with three utility moves. Roar, baby-doll eyes, confuse ray. Stalemate? Good for a friendly match on the trail. “Did you grow up near Lanakila, then? That how you got the vulpix?” He seems interested. You can stall. Maybe even get in some baby-doll eyes before the match starts. No. That affects humans, too. He’d notice.
“I’m from Anahuac. I adopted her in Hau’oli.”
Kekoa clears his throat. “I lived near Tapu Village for a bit. Bunch of ice-types there even without climbing.”
Pix has probably readied her opening moves. Time to get the show started. You stretch your mouth into a big, maybe fake-looking smile and clap your hands. “Great! You two can talk about it in a minute. Ty, I accept your challenge!”
Your heart pounds in your chest despite the low stakes. You can win this. Show Pix that she’s better than an ice-type eevee. Or no worse than one. Maybe make her happy.
“Alright. One on one. Don’t hurt each other too badly. Potions ain’t cheap.”
“Snowflake, go for an ice beam!” Snowflake. Oh no. Did he get it as a glaceon? Or was he setting up an Inferno situation? Doesn’t matter. You snap your fingers and think your command as cold air rushes past your feet. Shit. Big hit. Is Pix—
She growls and the cold air stops coming. The confuse ray landed. It givese you a moment to think. You could try baby-doll eyes. But if Snowflake knows ice beam, if that’s its go-to move, then maybe it wouldn’t do much. Two snaps. {Roar into ice shard.}
Most roars are wordless as far as your gift is concerned. This one isn’t. There’s a lot of meaning in the scream. Most of it profane. All of it angry. You can practically feel Pixie baring her teeth and venting days, no, years, of rage at one frozen fox. No, not ‘practically’ feel it, you can feel all that. Connection is too wide. You close your eyes and draw your mind in. The link becomes quieter.
“Come on,” your opponent calls. “Substitute!”
Baby-doll eyes are useless. Confuse ray… you’ll need to break the sub first. {Don’t need to lose your voice. Now,} “Ice shard!”
The scream becomes a hiss as the cold air whips back up. Another surge of cold joins it and Pixie rolls through the gravel. To the side. Not towards you. A dodge. {Keep it up until the fake is gone, then confuse ray.}
You don’t know what happens. Pixie keeps hammering away while cold air rushes to your side of the field. Feels stronger than any of Pixie’s attacks. And through your connection you feel her get weaker and weaker.
“Calling it now,” Kekoa says. “Ty wins.”
Pixie growls in pain / anger but doesn’t keep attacking. You can hear Ty walk over.
“Good play, there. Ordering confuse ray without a word.” If you had given a word he would have just shouted ‘Close your eyes!’ or something else simple and effective.
“Thank you.” You hear Pixie sulk off with dramatically loud steps. Should you praise his glaceon? You should. But Pix is here. How to word this…
In the end, Kekoa saves you. “You wanted to talk about the Mauna, right?”
“Yes! So, like, when you say there are a bunch of ice-types at the base, what are you counting as ‘the base?’” Their voices start drifting away and you take the chance to sit down. Pix immediately jumps on your lap and Coco comes running in from somewhere to lean against your side.
“You did good work, Pixie.” She doesn’t answer. “Need any healing?”
“No.”
“Okay.” You hadn’t felt any wounds on her, anyway. Her fur’s just frozen together. Might not even be a bad thing given how hot everything is here.
[-22:19:50]
“That, uh, looks really good.” You start and almost tip the stove over. That was the girl in the other group. Forgot her name. And she’s very close to you. When did she get there? You’re not easy to sneak up on.
She starts to stammer out an apology before you cut her off. “It’s fine. Really.” Silence. Well, near-silence. Kekoa’s playing fetch with Coco. The stove’s sizzling. Genesis and the ice-trainer are talking. No. Not silence. Still awkward. “What do you usually eat?”
“Freeze-dried crap.”
“What are you making tonight?”
“Freeze-dried crap.”
Poor thing. “Why? You have ice-types. You can keep real food.” Pixie grunts and plops down beside you. Snuck up on you. Again! At least she has padded feet.
“Wouldn’t that be super heavy?” The girl’s voice is quiet and monotone. Difficult to find emotion in. Hard to tell if she genuinely wants to change or just wants your food for the night.
“Do you have any big pokémon to carry things?”
“Um. I have a trevenant. But she’s really slow. Then Ty trains ice-types that don’t like heat. And Matt has poison-types.” She pauses to find a way to say the obvious. “I don’t want poison on our food.”
Fair complaints. “You have a type as well?” Wait uh. That could be taken the wrong way.
“I train plants.” Okay good. Was thinking about battling and not romance. “You have a theme?”
You flip the vegetables. Or some of them. Hard to make sure you flip them all and that none fall off of the tiny stove. “Sort of? Genesis is making a rain team.” Even if she doesn’t know it yet. “Kekoa’s going for fliers. I like big predators.”
Here comes the silence. The dragon girl silence. Hello, plant girl. Good riddance.
“That’s so cool.” Um. “I mean, dangerous.” What? “But cool.”
“Thanks?” Seriously, what? That’s not supposed to happen. Especially not from plant girl. You press your lips together and stir the pot while you think. “Not as dangerous as you’d think. Most mons could kill you. Some are nice enough to remind you.” You inch a hand towards the stove to feel the heat coming off. Feels like the food’s probably done. Taking the vegetables off the stove gives your brain another moment to catch up. “Plants are also cool I guess?”
Plant girl gives a short, bitter laugh. “They really aren’t. Most of them. My decidueye just evolved and she’s great. Distant. Protective. Still cuddly.”
You rummage through the food bag to find the sliced pidove breasts. Or what passes for pidove breasts here. No idea why they shape it like that when it was all grown in a petri dish. “Huh. Powerful, protective, and cuddly. Sounds like the ideal pokémon.” You make sure to reach out to Pix as you say it. She is powerful, protective, and cuddly. The ideal pokémon. And you love her very much and won’t leave her. The fox presses her head into your hand and accepts the scratches but doesn’t say anything.
“How’d you learn to cook?” the girl asks. Still hungry, it seems.
“Godmother taught me. I did most of it at home. House full of boys, you know?”
“I… no.” She awkwardly shifts. “I don’t think that’s normal? To make children do all the work?”
You scowl and bring your hand away from Pix. Time to use hand sanitizer and put the meat on. “I’m not a child. I’m fifteen.” Almost old enough to train for the army if you weren’t useless.
“I see.” It’s clear that she doesn’t but she’s letting it go because. Your shoulders are tense and your face is twisted. Americans. Judging you and your culture. You take some deep breaths and relax your body. Smile. Doesn’t matter if its fake. She’s just a kid. Don’t lash out. talk about the meal instead.
“This food’s better than what I usually made at home. Don’t think the others would settle for maize gruel.” Even if ātōlli is great with a little honey and the right seasonings. And pinolli was a staple in the old days. Instant food, just add water. Never actually made it. Simple, though, you’d just… ugh can you even get good maize here?
Plant girl coughs. “Can I have your number? For cooking advice. Later.” The last parts are surprisingly quick. Is she embarrassed by something. A crush? Or she doesn’t want you to think she has a crush? It’s kind of adorable either way. Not that you would ever reciprocate. She’s eleven at most and you’re maybe straight? Still working that one out. Not as if anyone would ever court you.
“Yeah, sure. It’s…”
[-21:10:59]
“Break.” Odd. You’ve barely been hiking ten minutes. And Kekoa usually isn’t the one to call for it. “Long break. Put your packs down.”
Very odd. Not his period, he had that three weeks ago if you’re remembering right. Pixie still found it unsettling. Also you’re going to have to tell Coco why his father is laying an egg in a few weeks. Shit. Not looking forward to that. You were trying to avoid giving The Talk to a tyrannosaur. Still, you drop your pack and you can hear Genesis drop hers.
“Now, Jennifer, can you tell me my name?”
Well. Not how you would’ve handled it. You would’ve waited until Blush Mountain. Not forced the issue when you had to stay close to her for a few days more. Too late now. Here we go.
“I…” Genesis takes a deep breath. “I won’t lie to Xerneas, Allana.”
So much conviction in her tone. So much disrespect in her words. How’d she even remember Kekoa’s old name? You forgot about five minutes later. Not even on purpose.
If the familiar sound of a fist hitting a face is anything to go by, Kekoa has a fantastic arm.
Genesis reals back and sputters. “The heck was that for?” she demands. “I could’ve broken a tooth.”
No. The hit wasn’t nearly strong enough. Or maybe it just sounds louder when you’re the one getting hit?
“And you would have deserved it.” Kekoa doesn’t even sound angry. Smug, yes, but not angry. You take a step back to stay off the battlefield.
“I wasn’t going to use that name for you!” Genesis protests. “You were the one who wanted to know. Not my fault if you don’t like the answer.”
“I have the right to know how my teammates feel about me.” Still even while Genesis rages. Or tries to rage. Her voice is high enough that it’s actually kind of adorable.
“And I have the right not to be judged for my religion! You liberals like tolerance, right?”
Hmm. She may have a point. She’s being an asshole, but you hate it when Americans judge your religion. Then again, if you were being an asshole to them it would be reasonable. You don’t sacrifice non-believers unless they raise arms against your country.
“I don’t tolerate bigots,” Kekoa sneers. He’s getting emotional, too. Good chance this goes back to blows and someone gets hurt.
“Let’s not hurt each other out here,” you ask. “Get to Blush Mountain and then beat each other up?”
“I’m not beating him up!” Genesis exclaims (screeches). “He’s the only one who got violent.”
“Deadnaming is violence.”
As someone who’s been hurt by fists and words, there really is a difference.
“Kekoa goes in front. I go in the middle. Then Genesis.”
“Can’t we just leave her?” Kekoa asks. “She’s the one creating problems.”
“And you’d get in trouble for leaving someone alone in the mountains.”
Kekoa pauses to consider it.
“Fine,” he concedes. “I don’t need to take any more shit on its behalf than I already have.”
“Its?” Genesis asks. “I thought you wanted people to respect genders?”
“That’s enough.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
You have a sinking feeling that things are only going to get worse from here.