Chapter 2:

The Labor Camp

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...

After he, miraculously, convinced Alis that it was the name of another mon' from a story he had heard from other people of their town, they made their way deeper into the forest, taking sharp turns and twists around the murky swamps of the feraligatr and taking longer detours well away from the ivy lined patches of the woods where the bellsprout line dwelled.

Alis hovered with her psionic powers while it was sheer luck that Meagan managed to learn how to walk as a gardevoir, though not without some aid of his weak latent psychic abilities to keep balance, which he was trying to get accustomed to. Whenever his concentration broke, Alis would detect this in an instant and aid him until he managed to regain his lost focus, and she would do it joyfully without any hint of annoyance or amusement. She really did care…

"You know, it's strange," said Alis, breaking the monotony of the bush walk.

Meagan glanced down at her, considering he was twice her size as her evolution.

"What is?"

"I never imagined that one day I would be helping you like this," she answered with a small giggle. "Ever since you evolved into a gardevoir, you've been quite self-reliant compared to when you were a kirlia, despite still being clumsy at times. Not to mention the talk of the people. You're a quick bloomer, and while that was the subject of admiration for many in our poor town, to others within the treeline of Elreino, you're a subject of fear, especially considering…" She stopped herself, with her eyes drifting away in consideration.

"My color?" He finished for her.

Only a subtle nod and the twiddling of her fingers confirmed. "Sorry, I rambled on again…"

Meagan hummed at that, Alis did have a habit of doing that, though considering the narrative of the invasive memories... "I suppose it serves the latter right for what they did," he said.

Apparently, it was quite a feat to reach the final stage of the ralts evolutionary line, with differing triggers, some more common than others. The few who did become gardevoir were generally revered and considered for higher positions and lodging in the social hierarchy of Elreino, with exceptions for exile laborers like 'Celeste' who evolved outside.

Inhabitants of Elreino can be exiled for a few reasons, like severe criminal behavior, repeated public nuisance, and even simply by familial association with the offenders…The other, though less common reason, was for being born with deformities.

It so happened that being a shiny was counted as a deformity, though not particularly ugly, it did perturb most people as it was considered a bad omen.

The latter reason for exile was typically a result of aristocratic families within Elreino's inner ring, who birthed these malformed individuals, petitioning for certain high council members with whom they have connections to make a case for exile and take the deformed individual away quietly. This was to prevent others from knowing their bloodline was potentially 'rotten', which would damage mating right prospects and the overall reputation of the family.

Well, so much for the 'grace' the ralts line was known for in the human world. Ignorance truly was bliss. It also proved, once again, why shinies were rare in the first place; ostracization meant one no longer had the privilege of safety in numbers from predation.

Compared to other pokémon species? Celeste had it easy, he thought.

Speaking of which…If he's in Celeste's body…Then what about—

"We're here."

Pulled out of his thoughts, they arrived at a barren clearing that looked more like a patch of desert and arid land in stark contrast to the green of the massive elder oaks sitting between a huge forest valley just a kilometer away.

Dotting the place were other ralts, kirlia, and fewer gardevoir, each coming and going with their levitating provisions of berries, ores, and wood amongst other kinds of resources. They were piled up in large individual straw pallets bigger than himself, each dedicated to a different type of resource. Just beyond these were two gallades supervising them, the alternative and rarer final ralts evolution exclusive to males.

They stood tall and menacing, brandishing their long, razor emerald edges on their elbow blades, and with a serious demeanor about the shadow their gladiator-like head extension cast over their eyes.

This was the exile labor camp.

Meagan and Alis tried to circumvent the main area, but another guard came upon them with a questioning glare.

"You've come back empty-handed, I see," said the gallade. He crossed his arms shaking his head, "Amodius won't be pleased."

Alis stepped in, "Sir, I've already asked one of my friends from a distance to carry our load. I had to assist my housemate back here because she's sick."

He rose a brow and tilted his head in curiosity. "Oh? Interesting to hear he can carry thrice his load. We didn't realize he could be so productive. Perhaps we should start asking him to do that more often if it's true," he said, straightening himself up as he glanced at Meagan. "And what seems to ail you? Your complexion seems fine, abominable abnormality considered."

"I…I'm just feeling weak today," answered Meagan with a tremor in his voice.

The gallade seemed to be reading his wavelengths before he looked back at Alis. "You brought a sick worker here without knowing whether it's contagious?" he growled. "Do you realize that if everyone gets contaminated and is unable to work, that would be a blow to our productivity?"

Alis shook in place for a moment under the taller mons' scowl. "I…I…"

Meagan interjected, praying that the issue wouldn't escalate and screw him over even more than he already was. "Seriously, I'm just feeling under the weather. I'll get better tomorrow, you'll see."

The guard's stare snapped to him. "'Under the weather'? What is that supposed to mean? Is that some kind of convict slang?"

"It means I'll get better, I promise."

The gallade scoffed. "The only thing bad omens can promise are disasters. You're like the absol of our kind…And why are you walking? Don't gardevoir usually glide along?"

"As I said, I feel weak."

"Tch." He turned to walk off. "Still, no nourishment for either of you tonight, we don't feed the unproductive."

Alis bristled at that. "But my friend is sick!"

The gallade turned back, snarling in fury. "Are you arguing with me?"

She was about to retort but Meagan put a hand on her mouth. "No food tonight. That's fair. We'll be off now," he said quickly.

The gallade's eyes flashed before the air in front of him pulsated, and in a blink the invisible force blasted Alis and sent her rolling across the ground, lifting dust and pebbles before she slid to a stop. A few workers stopped to watch the spectacle.

Meagan couldn't even track the attack with his eyes, but his skin prickled from the cold callousness of the energy put into the move.

The sight of Alis hurt in front of him caused his chest to swell with unfamiliar rage as he stared at the gallade with such intensity that the guard lift his arm blades in fearful anticipation.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"G-Got something to say, freak?"

Meanwhile, Meagan for a moment didn't understand why such emotions burst out for someone he just met, before piecing together that it was the memories of Celeste affecting his judgment, sending the body itself spiraling into an emotional tumult, and threatening to lose control.

Shit, shit, shit! Calm down! Calm down, damn it!

He took a deep breath, raised his hands slowly, and cupped them together, to which the gallade raised his own guard—

"Oh no! Please! I would never even dream of fighting such a big, strong, and dashing gallade like yourself!" he said with the best flirty gaze he could muster, fluttering his lashes, recalling the mannerism of a particular cute woman who had once flirted with him to authenticate the act while ignoring his disgust with his own helplessness. On top of that, the womanly voice leaving his mouth inflamed his revulsion of the situation. "You wouldn't happen to be single, would you?"

The psychic-mon blinked in surprise and fluster at the unexpected reaction right as another gallade, this one with a more robust build and a scar on his eye rushed onto the scene and surveyed the area. "What's going on here, Romir?"

The first gallade lowered his arms, acknowledging his superior. "Just reminding these slaves of their roles, is all, sir." Romir turned to Meagan, giving him a once-over "...Know your place," he said, before walking over to his superior and engaging in conversation.

Meagan allowed a subtle grin to creep in at the younger gallade's response while the psychic fighters left without any more fuss. Good. This was fairly convenient. He wasn't about to let things get worse for him. He lamented the situation, but it was better than surviving on his own in the woods unable to defend himself and most likely far off from civilization…Well, human civilization, that is.

He ran toward a groaning Alis, who wobbled as she slowly picked herself up while heaving and drooling like she just got punched in the stomach. Meagan pulled her to her feet. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah…Sorry, I almost got us into more trouble," she moaned, wiping her mouth with her eyes watering.

Meagan gifted her a ginger smile as he dusted her off with care, "Don't worry. I think it might have paid off, actually."

Surprise emanated from Alis'. "Really? How so?"

A cruel grin split his face though it vanished as fast as it appeared. "You'll see. For now, let's get out of sight."

"Agreed."

…They reached the burrow-like dwelling on the rocky hillside he had seen in the memories, and walked into the gaping entrance to the main living room, which consisted of a rickety lounge made of sticks and filled out with compacted feathers, a table with a few chairs of similar make, and a bench. All had pointed ends to better adjust them on the uneven sandy ground.

Occupying the living room were a handful of other pokémon from the ralts line, namely one male gardevoir who was balding with old age lining his more masculine features, and one child-like ralts with a grotesquely swollen crest huddled together with another female kirlia whose energy emanated and wrapped the child with a maternal warmth; she seemed older than other kirlias.

Finally, there was another kirlia with slightly thicker arms and legs in contrast to the females, this was Alis' brother who stretched himself on the couch in exhaustion. However, as soon as Meagan entered his vision, he shot up to his feet and straightened himself, looking at him in concern with renewed vigor.

"Ah! My fair lady! I am glad to see you in good health!" he exclaimed, scrutinizing him before catching himself in a fluster and noticing Alis' scratches. "Ah! Sister! What happened!?"

Alis pouted at that. "Nice of you to notice me last, brother. Typical male," she snarked. "It's nothing for you to worry over."

"Hey!" he answered. "Cut a mon' his break, I had to take your load for you, remember?"

"Oh yeah, thanks for that, Emryth. I also remember you taking Celeste's load too, are you not going to complain to her too?" she asked, smirking at him.

He flushed for a moment. "Ah! Erm, of course not! You said she was sick. Speaking of," he said as his concerned gaze fell on Meagan. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't use my psychic abilities," answered Meagan with stone bluntness.

The room fell silent. "Eh?"

"Or, at least, not fully. I'm not sure why." Meagan observed his tridactyl bluish hand, tensing and releasing it. The truth was, he deduced it had something to do with the incompatibility between his human consciousness and the gardevoir brain, though he wasn't so sure, as even now, he could sense the muffled whispers of consciousness all around him, and to a degree, the volatile emotions of each individual.

But he was gradually improving, to a point where detecting these signals was becoming second nature…and it was just his first day, that was the important thing.

Though, would they eventually become more intense to a point where they provoked sensory overload? After all, it was an occasional side-effect that the ralts line normally suffered, this was common knowledge among his trainer peers, and these were trained pokémon.

He swallowed thickly at the thought.

The elder floated over to Alis and a soft, pink whirring glow enveloped his hands as he rested them on her scrapes and bruises, quickly remedying them.

Heal pulse, naturally.

The old gardevoir looked at Meagan. "Don't get us into any further trouble, you hear?"

Meagan blinked. "You act as though I do so intentionally."

"Hmm…Yes…I wonder," mused the elder as he scrutinized the air around him like he was observing the invisible. "Your frequencies aren't just erratic…They're different."

Meagan clenched his teeth, cursing the geezer in silence for his keen observation.

Emryth stood in front of Meagan with an arm raised, frowning at the old coot, "She's just feeling ill, Karthen! Old age seems to be affecting your perspective."

The elder scowled at the kirlia for a moment, before waving dismissively. "Bah! Youngsters these days have slothful and uncaring third eyes," barked Karthen, lifting both arms and extending both his withering, blackened index fingers. "Ancient I may be, but I still know the difference between the vibrations for illness, and a shifted 'signature wavelength'…Though I admit your condition is quite baffling even to me.

"Perhaps it's a product of your cursed constitution. I know not," he said, staring at Meagan with a cautious eye. "Just don't don't go stirring up trouble, because chances are, you'll regret it…whoever you are."

Did the old man know? Shit.

"And the old hermit has finally lost it," announced Emryth.

Karthen clicked his tongue. "Such disrespect, especially after I healed your sister."

"Yes, yes, thank you elder Karthen," said Alis, interjecting placatively. "But is there any way that we can help Celeste regain her psychic powers?"

"You act as though she lost them when they're just dormant. Was she not using them to keep herself balanced while walking?"

"True. So it's just a matter of time?"

"I'd say so. But I can't guarantee it. Only time will tell," the elder concluded as he hovered away grumbling something about the youth to himself.

A minute rumbling came from Alis' direction, causing her to blush. "Oh…Sorry. It's just about time for dinner…" she said, clearly upset as she peeped at Meagan guiltily.

"Well, they'll be handing out the provisions now," stated Emryth.

"Yeah, except they forbade me and Celeste from eating for tonight."

Emryth's face contorted in outrage. "What!? Why!?"

"Because we didn't bring anything back in the gathering, " answered Alis in a glum tone. "And no, I won't ask for anyone to share, not even you, brother."

"We'll see about that."

…Only a few minutes passed before a familiar gruff voice announced itself at the entrance of the hut. It was Romir, levitating a woven tray with four small clay bowls containing a porridge-like substance, and that quickly became a generous statement upon a second inspection of the dirt-colored sludge. Prison cafeteria food suddenly seemed like gourmet dining.

The elder gardevoir of the household received the tray while thanking Romir, though his gratitude went largely ignored as the gallade spared a glare at Alis, then stared intently at Meagan for what seemed like an hour. On queue, the shiny gardervoir-turned-human fluttered their eyelashes before he tested the gallade with a lecherous wink. Romir flinched at that before quickly making himself scarce.

The exchange went unnoticed.

The six cohabitants gathered around the dining table. Emryth gave his bowl to Alis.

"Have mine—"

"Absolutely not."

"This isn't up for discussion."

She furrowed her brow. "I said no. You carried thrice your usual weight in the gathering for me and Celeste, you must be fatigued. Eat."

"I refuse to eat until you have at least half, deal?"

Alis pouted at him though her gaze fell on the bowl. "You're so annoying…Only half, " she said as she took the bowl though her eyes widened and she gazed at Meagan. "Wait, what about Celeste?"

Meagan laughed nervously and waved his arms in placation like a chicken would. "I…I couldn't. Just relax and have your meal, Alis."

The mother kirlia scooped one bowl up and spooned half of its contents onto another bowl before offering the rest to Meagan in bashful silence.

For a moment, Meagan was stunned at the altruistic act. She needed her strength, and her son should be the highest priority.

He waved his arms even more frantically, wanting nothing to do with the awful concoction and much less put it in his system.

Karthen watched with keen interest as he ate his own portion.

"No, no. Please," Insisted Meagan. "I could never."

"You are ailed, young one," interjected Karthen. "I suggest you nourish yourself so you may heal faster."

He returned the old man's gaze. "In that case, please, let Alis have it. I have no appetite at the moment and it would be wasted on me."

Karthen raised a curious, withered brow at him and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Meagan thanked the mother who nodded and passed the bowl on to a concerned Alis. He excused himself, expressing his wish to rest for the night, and very glad he didn't have to eat such unappetizing filth.

Sifting through the memories of the host body, Meagan found the allocated room at the end of the tunneled hall lit with the dim light of an oil candle of sorts. The room itself was minimalistic, with a square rock passing as a bedside, and the bed itself woven tightly with strips of bark, filled in with the same compacted leaves as the lounge. The only decorative aspect of the room was a feathered ornament hanging off the ceiling resembling a dream catcher, and some semi-precious stones on the bedside.

Ignoring the initial scratchy sensation of the dry leaf mattress with unusual ease, he lay down staring at the black ceiling, spinning several schemes to get the fuck out of this drab place…the best of which surfaced like a glowing lanturn from the dark ocean depths, which was already underway since his entry to the slave compound, and the sheer convenience of it birthed a wicked grin well into his slumber…

…

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