Normal 1.10: Negotiations
Cuicatl
October 18, 2019
You were only on Route 5 for three days but after a mix of freeze dried, dehydrated, and canned foods you’re perfectly happy to wolf down whatever the Brooklet Hill Pokémon Center’s serving. Even if it’s stir fry that you could probably do better. Doesn’t matter. You aren’t cooking it. Hiking brings more hunger than usual and tomorrow you have work to do.
“Has Kiwi’s vulpix smelled a paras?” Kekoa asks.
The food was labeled as ‘spicy’ and it barely counts as flavorful. Might be a little habanero, definitely no ghost peppers. To say nothing of the pokémon-derived spices your dad sometimes brought home on special occasions. And you know you aren’t too abnormal on this because Achi had a way higher tolerance than you.
“Has your vulpix smelled a paras?” Genesis asks.
It takes you a few seconds to drink some water, swirl food around and swallow. “Sort of. Took her to an herbal medicine shop in Heahea. They had paras mushrooms.” The shopkeeper had said they’d buy a mushroom for fifty. Not twenty for the whole pokémon. VStar’s ripping you off. It’s infuriating but at least it explains why Rachel pretended to care about you. And you do owe her for the meal. And for Pixie. You’ll suck it up and turn in your paras for twenty apiece at the end of Akala.
“She says yes,” Genesis says.
“Good,” Kekoa responds. “She going to lead us out into the great unknown tomorrow?”
Genesis sighs. “Are we really doing this?”
Neither of you answer.
“Okay, fine. You going to help find paras?”
You shake your head. And chew. And swallow. “I’ll see if Pixie is fine helping you on Wednesday. Tomorrow I have things I need to do alone.”
*
You wake up before your alarm. That doesn’t tell you what time it is. Midnight, 7:29, could be anything. You grab your phone and roll out of bed. Pixie’s footsteps dutifully pitter patter after you. Once you’re in the bathroom you shut the door, get on the toilet, and press the home button on the phone. “What time is it?” you whisper.
“3:43 A.M.” it responds in not a whisper. Great. Just great. You thought you’d figured out how to turn the volume down but apparently not.
Tomorrow is Acatl. A pretty good day for what you need to do. Acatl is ruled by Chalchihuitlicue, goddess of lakes and streams and shaper of your soul. You’ll be rooting around in a spring all day. It’s great timing.
Should you give the goddess an offering? You don’t think Chalchihuitlicue takes blood; at least, her live sacrifices are drowned. And usually younger than you which is kind of messed up. You want the sun to rise and the rains to come as much as anyone else, but that can be done with volunteers and war captives, right? And Chalchihuitlicue is maybe the best goddess; she can’t actually require that. Someone got it wrong somewhere along the line. Probably explains the drought.
Offerings.
No blood.
You could get in the water and hold your breath for a very long time. Problem is that you’re not a particularly good swimmer. You can tread water for a bit, but you’ve never spent much time in pools or ponds. If you die you wouldn’t catch any paras; at most you’d get a single ghost-type out of it. Not worth it.
Cloth? You haven’t sewed anything since you got here. No money for fabric, no time to do it. Well, you’d thought there wouldn’t be time. Turns out that when you get to a campsite in the afternoon there’s usually a block of time that Pixie won’t fill. Late-day sun is hard on her. Poor girl. As if on cue you hear a soft thump on the counter beside you and a chirrup as she settles down. Probably into the sink. In a few minutes she’ll inevitably pretend not to understand you when you ask her to get out so that you can wash your hands. You’ll just turn the water on a tiny bit and wait for her to hiss and scamper away.
Sacrifice, right?
You yawn and stretch until your soul reenters your body. Meh. You’ll figure that out in the morning. Now you need to wash your hands. You stand up and idly hope that Pix has caught on to what you’re about to do.
She hasn’t.
*
There’s the sound of splashing beneath you as you walk out of the shallows. You rub your feet in the grass until they’re dry enough they probably won’t blister before putting your shoes back. No blood this morning. Just prayer and fasting in the Western, self-starvation sense. Maybe some of the food at breakfast was unseasoned enough to count as fasting to the gods. You’ve heard the jokes about American cuisine and they aren’t really wrong. But the fasting isn’t for the gods, is it?
Shut up. Today is a lucky day. Don’t waste it.
“Come on, Pix. Let’s find us a paras.” She’s been quiet. No complaints or questions at all. It’s not like her.
The weather is pretty nice. The morning sun warms without burning and there are fewer insects than you’d thought there would be. Hopefully that doesn’t apply to the one insect you want to find. More than anything the sound of waterfalls in every direction reminds you of Alice’s home when the snowbanks started to melt and the water all ran down the slopes into the valley below. There’s so little you miss about home and yet it always seems to reach out and snag you back.
It takes Pixie a long time to smell anything. Over an hour for sure. Long enough that combined with the silence it could make a girl start to wonder. “I really hope we find all five,” you say to no one in particular. “Because otherwise I’ll have to find another bug for the next trial. And if I can’t sell that one I’ll probably just keep it on the team. Wouldn’t be so bad having more friends, no?”
Pixie’s tracking skills immediately improve.
*
“Harrumph.” {Stop.} You stop in your tracks.
“Sure this is the one?”
A sneeze. {Of course.}
“Thank you, Pixie. Baby doll eyes for a second, if you will.”
The attack doesn’t make a sound. You can’t be sure if she’s doing it or not but it’s not too important to the capture. You crouch down.
“Hello there, little guy.”. You push the thought into the whisper and try to bring some of the tone with it. There’s no response. “Yes, I can let you understand me. And I can understand you.”
There’s a high pitched chitter and a hiss. {We will fight!} rings in your head in a feminine voice.
Your smile fades for a moment before you bring it back into place, behind your spore-blocking facemask. Where she can’t see it. But the cuicalli taught you to act how you want to sound and you’ll take any possible advantage you can get. “Why?”
{You’re going to eat us!}
You sigh. “No, I’m not. And I can prove it.” You switch to telepathic messaging to Pixie. {Ice shard. Be very gentle.} The attack doesn’t sound gentle and there’s a screech of pain from the bushes. Wouldn’t put it past Pix to go for the kill here. Whenever you get a second permanent team member capture is going to get so much easier. Focus. Clear thoughts. Clear feelings. Acting time. Stern with a hint of compassion. “Now that I’ve shown that I could kill you, I won’t. I have medicine for your wounds here if you want to come out.”
Nothing. Nothing for long enough that you start to think the bug died. Then there’s an audible rustling and the clattering of spindly legs on the ground as the paras comes right up to you. Very carefully, making sure to keep your eyes locked shut in case the paras tries to shoot out spores in your face, you pull out a potion and spray it at the paras.
{What is that?} the paras asks. Her voice is much more upbeat than before despite being hurt.
“Healing potion. We have better medicine back in our nests. That’s actually why I’m here,” you say.
{Go on.}
“I don’t want to eat you. But I do want one of your mushrooms. Just one. In return, I will spend several nights protecting you, feeding you, healing you, and making sure that you know how to fight. I will also give you the chance to battle a much stronger opponent than you’re used to, one that won’t ever kill or eat you and just wants to see how strong you are. Then I’ll drop you back off here or in a forest up north or, if you want, with another human. That way you come back stronger, closer to evolution, and with some great stories to tell the other paras.”
{Are you human?} the bug asks.
“Yes,” you respond. “Why?”
{We did not think humans could talk with their minds.}
“Some of us can. Also, I’m sorry if this is rude, but why do you call yourself ‘we?’” Alice never really went that route.
{Because there is an insect and two mushrooms in us!} the paras explains.
You process that. “And you’re still willing to part with a mushroom?”
{Yes! Especially if we grow stronger! There can only be one mushroom and one insect when we grow.}
“That makes sense.” Sort of like Alice. Although ellas kept ellas’s other self. Sort of. “Is there anything else you would like to know?”
{What is your cold mammal? We’ve never seen one!}
“She’s a vulpix.” You reach down to scratch her and she accepts. Would’ve been awkward if she shut you down. It does show that however upset she is she’s still not mad enough to reject scratches. “They live high up on mountains where all of the water is frozen into snow. She is my other pokémon. I am going to keep her forever.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The last part is more for Pix’s benefit than the paras’s.
{Are you going to put me in one of those strange circles?}
You nod. “Sometimes. When I’m walking long distances and I don’t think you could keep up. I do have very long legs, after all.” Hah. Never thought that you’d say that. “And I’ll let you sleep in the circle at night so predators can’t get you. The rest of the time I will let you out to eat, explore, train, and learn.”
She pauses to consider that. {And will you give us a name?}
You smile. You aren’t entirely sure why she’s so on board with this. She probably isn’t smart enough to pull a long con to kill you. And if you do die to a mouthful of stun spores, well, at least you’ll have some idea how Achcauhtli felt. Except getting betrayed by a paras has to hurt less than being abandoned by your sister and mental roommate when you needed her the most. So, no, you still won’t have any clue what you put him through you despicable piece of shit.
You press the feelings aside and smile. “Of course. Let’s go with…” you swallow and try really, really hard to make sure that the Nahuatl word comes through and not its meaning. “…Ce.”
The paras screeches. In your head. Outside of your head it’s more of a weird bubbling sound. You feel her move up onto your shoe and wrap her pincers around your ankle in an insect hug. {So cool! Pokémon-human with ice mammal and healing potions gave us a name!}
Wasn’t she worried about you eating her a second ago? Gods above and below, pokémon are weird. “Do you have any friends who might want to come with us? I’m looking for up to four more… insects.” Insects. Not ‘of you’ because who knows what that means to her.
{…four… more…} There’s a long silence. {Yes! There’s one down the river in a sharp bush and one in a big-tooth mammal burrow and one in some tall grass up the river and one behind a vertical river!}
Even your gift isn’t quite sure what to make of that.
*
Kekoa and Genesis are downstairs eating dinner. It was surprisingly easy to convince them to leave you up here; Genesis backed off immediately when you said you were fasting. She didn’t even “translate” Kekoa’s mocking question-answers. An utterly irrational part of your brain, the one that made you fat, is disappointed that she didn’t put up more of a fight.
While you may not be eating today, you still have pokémon to feed. Moss mix and lettuce leaves were much cheaper than Pixie’s kibble had led you to expect. Judging by the happy bubbling noises below your bed the paras seem very pleased with your purchase. A cheap mat and some slightly damp newspaper make up your impromptu paras shelter, which also seems to be oddly beloved.
At least, beloved by most. The fox in your lap isn’t pleased with it, even after a very thorough brushing. You even offered to give her a bath with your shampoo but she hasn’t yet decided if she’s okay with that. Since you could talk Seerah into taking baths and heatmor are less vain (and more drownable) than vulpix you’d figured it would be an easy sell. Honestly, you’re half convinced that she really does want it but she’s just denying everything to spite you.
Foolish girl. Mimicking her trainer in all the worst ways.
Dry shampoo. Once you have the money and need to buy a new bottle you’ll take that approach. She might agree more readily. Assuming you ever have the money. VStar’s ripping you off and you aren’t sure if shampoo is covered by the league subsidy.
There’s a task at hand and you really don’t want to spiral out on the trail. Not now, at least. It might make Kekoa think you care about his petty bullshit. Fine, sure, whatever, you should’ve told him that you were going to kick his nuts so hard they popped out his asshole. Really, you just can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for him. Maybe he’s been through some shit. Maybe he wakes up everyday and hates his own body. Tough. You’ve been through the same and don’t rip into anyone who tries to help. Not when it’s so much easier to just shake your head and run away and leave the pain on the girl who deserves it.
Plan. You had a plan not to spiral. Heh. Dumb enough that you can’t even stick to your own plan to convince yourself that you aren’t stupid. So, yeah, grand idea. Psychic linkage. Let your pokémon understand each other. Might help Pixie actually grow to like her companions. Or at least humble her a little. Maybe. A girl can hope. And you might as well do it when you can tank a couple days of headaches.
You start to sing. The words don’t matter so long as they’re words. For some reason your subconscious went with country. Not usually your style but they were playing it downstairs yesterday and it got stuck in your head. It’ll do. Even if it confuses your pokémon as they try to figure out why you’re telling them about the time you destroyed some boy’s car.
You lie down, close your eyes, and reach out. Every word makes links between you and anything that can hear it. Six pings. Five below, one right on top of you. With a little bit of effort you reach out to the one on top and hold a link. Then you scan the ones below. One connection is easier than the others. More open, more experience in using that link. You reach out and feel a triangle of energy linking you, Ce, and Pixie. One verse and a chorus left to do. As the song winds down you try and relax, loosening up physically and mentally. It’s what you’re supposed to do to make shots hurt less and maybe that applies here.
You drag out the final word, take a quick breath, and snap the triangle into place. It immediately feels like something massive struck you right on the forehead and the pain comes in steady waves, front to back. Back to front. Front to back. Back to front. You try to focus on the rhythm and not the substance. Because holy fuck why did you do this to yourself? Even with his help you were still bedridden for a week when you did your last team connection.
Front to back. Back to front. Front to back. Back to front. You’re aware of Pixie and Ce talking. To you. to each other. You ignore it. You’re a tiny boat on the waves. Front to back. Back to front. Front to back. It’s not getting better. Maybe even worse with every wave.
At some point the pain becomes too much and you fall into the depths of rest and silence.
In your dreams you drown as your sister watches on.
*
By morning the rocking has broken into a thousand tiny waves whizzing around your skull. It’s not at all better. You tell Genesis that, no, you can’t eat because you’re pretty sure that you’re going to vomit if you try to do anything and, yes, she’s welcome to borrow Pixie to find paras to her own.
You could really use someone taking half of your dumb psychic headaches now, but you went and let half your brain die so that’s on you. As usual.
Genesis comes back and sets down something with a small but unbearably large clattering sound. “I got you water and a banana and some crackers,” she whispers. “Kekoa’s heading out today but I’m going to stay back and watch over you. Make sure that everything’s alright.”
You really want to tell her to go straight to hell. Delaying an adventure to look after a sick friend? Does she think she’s better than you? Because she’s right. She’s normal, even. Most people would do this. Almost everyone. You’re the tiny, hideous exception to the rule.
Eventually she coaxes you into eating a banana. You immediately stumble into the bathroom and throw it up. Between this and yesterday she’d be justified in thinking you were bulimic. Which you aren’t. You want to be pretty. Or at least less ugly. But even you can tell that there’s absolutely nothing beautiful about the act of upchucking your partially digested food.
Genesis tries again in the afternoon. Or what’s probably in the afternoon. Impossible to tell with how much you’ve been in and out of consciousness. You get a few sips of water and a cracker down. That just tells your stomach that it’s eating time again and suddenly you have raging hunger complimenting the shootout in your head.
Kekoa slams the door open because of course he does. Has it been that long already? Wait, how long would it even take Pixie to find some paras if she knew that they wouldn’t be teammates of hers and success meant getting out of the heat faster. You had been very clear that Kekoa and Genesis were ditching their bugs.
The fox jumps up onto the bed and curls up on your chest. Ugh. She’s heavy enough that it’s noticeable and her tails are in your face and make breathing a little harder. It would still be wrong to kick her off. You’re lucky to have her and you’re not going to hate her for being annoying while she’s here because then maybe you’ll be a bitch and she’ll die and, bam, congrats, that’s how you’ll remember her forever.
At least she’s cold. That’s nice. And with the food and soda that Genesis eventually got you to choke down you’re less miserable than you were this morning. Still overwhelmed by pain and you want to cry but better.
You’ve shut out other minds to spare you even more pain. You don’t bother telling Pixie as she yaps on, no doubt about the many injustices she’s suffered since you last saw each other. You smile and whisper “Poor, poor girl.” She huffs in satisfaction and turns around so that her nose rests on your neck.
*
When you wake up there are long, spindly legs wrapped around your head.
Something primal takes over. You don’t scream. You don’t even breathe. Or move. You just stay still and silent like the spider might think you’re a rock. Slap it? Another part of your brain wakes up. Wait, don’t you have Pix for this? Where is—
You open up the psychic link and feel the pain of ripped-off duct tape. (A feeling you got second hand from your brother. Still aren’t entirely sure of the context there.) A quick location ping tells you that both Ce and Pixie are very, very close to you. You reach up and gently move Ce from your face to your chest.
“Hello, friends,” you whisper.
{Hello! Did that help?!} Ce very loudly answers through the link. Second order of business once you get better is teaching that girl (those girls?) how to use her (their? ellas’s?) inside-the-head voice.
“A little,” you lie. “But it messes with my breathing.”
{Eep! We’re so sorry—}
“It’s fine. How’d you get the idea anyway?”
Apology words flash through the surface of Pix’s mind. Dammit. Should’ve known.
You run a finger along Ce’s head. Hard enough to be an effective scratch, not so hard that she’s likely to be hurt by it. Screw this, you’ll figure things out tomorrow. She might move your cane in the morning but you doubt Pix comes up with anything worse over the course of a few hours.
*
Someone jostles you awake. Pix hisses at them and Ce starts clicking her mandibles together. “Stand down. It’s fine,” you groan. Probably fine, anyway.
“Hey,” Genesis says. “How are you feeling?”
You take stock. “Okay-ish. Probably won’t leave the room this morning. Might later.”
“Good!” She pauses. You hear her feet shift. What’s the bad news? “So, um, the nurse does want to talk to you—.”
“No,” you reply. You know damn well why you have a headache. No need to bring in some doctor to tell you that, shocker, you’re blind and fat. And you really don’t want the authorities to know about your gift. Your father thought would be very bad. You smile to change topics and deflect. “Thank you for yesterday, by the way.”
“Oh, no problem. But I will need Pixie today?” She states like it’s a question.
{Pixie, you up for it?}
She barks. Yes, she is. Probably desperate to redeem herself. You’ll tell her that you’ll always love her no matter what once she comes back. For now the guilt and fear might increase her performance. She deserves some of it anyway.
“Yes, she’s ready to help.”
Genesis must’ve already been dressed and ready to go because she rolls out just a few minutes later.
You steadily get to your feet so you can at least brush your teeth. Once you take the first step the vertigo hits. Both arms fly out and you steadily crouch down. The world is rocking around you and if you just balance a little bit better you might hand on. The sloshing steadily slows. You sit back in bed. Your mouth feels gross but you’ll have to wait to fix that.
*
You’re very rudely woken up for the third time. Gunshots. Before you can properly panic you notice that there’s music between the shots. Very loud music.
Just an action movie. Being played very loudly. In your room. While you have a headache.
“Kekoa,” you growl. “Turn that down.”
“Hmm? Sorry can’t hear you,” he answers.
{Hey, Ce, mind chasing him around?}
{Of course!}
You can’t actually hear her move but you can hear Kekoa’s footsteps and swearing before the television turns back off and you’re left alone with a worsened headache.
“Come back, Ce.” You hear her dutifully scuttle over. You lay an arm down so she can crawl up it and lie on your chest because she was a very brave and good girl(s(?)). Kekoa crashes down onto the bed across from you a second later. Now to deal with the thing that needs dealt with, even though you’d rather not until your headache is just a little bit calmer. “Kekoa, what the fuck?”
He huffs. “If I’m stuck inside watching your ass, I at least want to have some fun.”
“Not what I’m talking about.” You gently move Ce from your chest to your lap and sit up. Bottom bunk is low enough that your feet can touch the ground while you sit. “I meant, ‘Kekoa, why the fuck have you been an asshole to me the entire time we’ve known each other?’”
“Because you’ve been outing me and poking at my dysphoria, apparently knowingly, the whole damn time.”
It’s very difficult to keep your voice level as your mind and soul rock on the waves. “Kekoa, I only did that because you were already being an asshole.” You can hear him open his mouth so you move right on to cut him off. “De-escalation.” You take a deep breath and miraculously he doesn’t but in. “If we’re trapped in a loop of hurting each other more and more, we should just stop hurting each other.”
You hear him shift around. “Explain.”
You release part of the deep breath you took. Then you take another. “You—” No, start with what he gains. “I stop misgendering you and don’t out you to anyone else. I don’t sic my pokémon on you. In exchange, you don’t physically hurt me—and that includes what you just did—and you don’t bring up my family. Ever.” Ideally, you’d take care of the Kiwi thing but it’s honestly rather hard to be hurt by it when it’s just so childish. Besides, you doubt he’d agree to everything and you’d rather have the physical things stop.
He doesn’t answer. You stroke Ce between the mushrooms because you get the most bubbling when you scratch there. One paras reaches out from under the bed and pokes your ankle. You aren’t about to ask aloud if he wants anything so you’ll just wait for him to speak.
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll take the deal.”