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The Path of Thorns

Elemental Charizam

Sudden Genre Shift
The Path of Thorns

Index
Chapter One
Chapter Two


A/N: The second chapter will be uploaded two days from now, as the first is so short. After that, this will be updated on a weekly basis until I clear my backlog of chapters, slow down and inevitably lose interest, leaving the story incomplete for all time.

Chapter One: Rest In Peace

She was much too hot in her black funeral dress, and her palms were clammy with sweat. Larissa hated the part of her that noticed the heat, the sweat, the glare, when her mother’s ashes lined the urn before her.

It had been her that found the body crumpled on the kitchen floor. She’d been told all her life that she looked like her mother. Alongside the shock and the grief had been the thought, like poison, that what really upset her, deep down, was not that her mother was dead but that she would one day join her. She tasted tears in her mouth and felt their cool paths on her cheeks. She hated the part of her that said she was making herself cry because it was expected of her.

She remembered snatches of her conversation with the grief counsellor, about how people dealt with it in different ways. Was this normal? She doubted it. Part of her had always been detached, watching herself from afar. She had always had a little too much control, so that misery seemed somehow self indulgent. It was awful, of course, but a piece of her seemed to take perverse pleasure in languishing in misery. If it didn’t, why did she stay, when she could pull herself out so easily? Nothing ever felt entirely genuine, entirely real. But her mother was dead. That was real. Her mother was dead.

She tried to remember happier times.

Her mother ran a comb through her black, silky hair, freshly treated with products from the salon; it looked like her mother’s, but shorter. She had decided to be patient and grow it out, but it still had a long way to go. The room smelt wonderfully of lemons. She was eight.

Birds sang from blossoming trees and swooped merrily through the clear summer sky. The countryside was laid out below them, a patchwork of green and yellow meadows. They had laid a tartan quilt on the warm hillside and that was where they lay, surrounded by the crumbs of their picnic. Larissa felt her mother stroke her hand gently and knew that all was well.


The image of the body rose treacherously in her mind…

She burst into a fresh bout of sobbing, crying now in earnest. Tears flowed faster from eyes that stung from rubbing, to be mopped clumsily away with her damp handkerchief. No one seemed to notice.

And then, as if from nowhere, anger surged up to drown her sorrow; anger at the priests that extorted and wheeled and picked like vultures at her mother’s bones; anger at the sun that shone on without sympathy; anger at being a helpless child; anger at being alone.

***​

It was a month later. Larissa walked along a winding path through the countryside, paying little attention to her surroundings. The urgent sorrow, the anger and the confusion had faded to be replaced by a slow sadness, a great emptiness.

A pokéball was attached to the belt at her waist, given to her by the local professor. He had been nervous when they met, a man who had trouble dealing with children under the best of circumstances. He’d given fumbled condolences as he showed her the starter pokémon. She had chosen the cyndaquil, though she placed little import on the decision. Larissa didn’t hate pokémon – the opposite, rather – but she’d never planned to go on a journey in earnest. She had felt no need to find herself, and if she had she would have sought to do so in quiet contemplation, or within the pages of a book, rather than by travelling. She was competitive, in her way, but that was more of a reason not to pick up a new hobby, where she would fail again and again before she could truly compete. But now, with her immediate family all dead, she had little to tie her down, and it was one of the few ways a child could pay their way in the world. It was that or live with her great aunt in her lonely old house that smelt constantly of cabbage. The thought did not appeal.

Larissa wasn’t travelling anywhere in particular – she already lived in Violet City, where the first gym was held – she just wanted to get out of there for a while. Maybe train a little or catch another pokémon, she wasn’t really sure. The sun was setting and yet she, having set out at dawn three days earlier, hadn’t attempted either.

Her foot caught on an unseen rock and she half tripped, stumbling as she caught her balance. That, she decided, was as good a sign as any that it was time to pack things in, or out, rather, for the night. Deciding on a camp site was an important part of setting up a tent, and so any experienced camper would have clucked their tongue disapprovingly had they seen the way she slung it down any old where a handful of steps from the path. A large rock hid her from the road but only a scattering of elm trees gave any protection from the wind or, should it start to fall, rain. After hammering the tent pegs haphazardly into the earth, Larissa crawled inside, dropped her heavy pack on the floor and crawled into her sleeping bag.

Predictably, sleep proved difficult. The wind howled through the tress and made the tent walls ripple violently. More than that, though, she was scared of going to sleep, as she had been every night since the death. So she lay awake, counting the stains in the tent fabric, trying not to think.

That was quite difficult, too.

An hour passed. She sighed. Even though her life was ruined and she’d never be happy again, Larissa would have preferred not to be exhausted in the morning.

***​

Larissa awoke feeling better than she had in a long time. For the first time, the body hadn’t haunted her dreams. In fact, she couldn’t remember dreaming at all. She peered through the tent flap. It was bright but cold. Still, she thought, the temperature would rise with the sun. It would soon be warm.

As she packed the tent away into her backpack, she caught herself humming.

Only later, when she hoisted her pack onto her back and moved to leave, did she notice the gastly. She froze, startled, feeling the frantic beating of her heart. He didn’t seem threatening – he just hung there, scarcely visible in the sunlight. She relaxed a little, breathing hard. How long had he been there? Longer than she’d been awake, most likely; she probably would have noticed movement.

Should she try and catch him? For the first time it struck her just how risky capturing a pokémon would be with only one of her own. Gauging the gastly’s strength was impossible until they started fighting, and if he proved too strong she’d have to run for it and hope the repellant kept him at bay. Despite this, she found she wasn’t scared. Perhaps the shock was taking a while to wear off.

Calmly, she reached for the pokéball at her waist.

With the press of a button her cyndaquil was by her side. They hadn’t spent much time together yet – she’d been in no mood for company since she got him. He didn’t even have a name. He looked game enough, though, crouched low and growling. Fire burst forth from the spots on his back, making the air shimmer with heat. If the gastly saw the threat implicit in Cyndaquil’s actions he gave no sign of it. He just floated there, his expression unreadable.

“All right, use ember,” said Larissa. It was hardly a difficult choice – it was the only attack her pokémon had that would affect the gastly at all.

Her cyndaquil took in a great gulp of air, held it for a few seconds, and then spat out a cloud of swirling embers. It wasn’t an especially precise attack and so it was really quite embarrassing when it missed the ghost entirely, burning nothing more offensive than tree bark. She wondered briefly if her pokémon was so stupid as to require exact instruction on what to hit, but discarded the thought. He had simply missed. The gastly, meanwhile, had begun to drift closer, almost casually, as if nothing present was a threat. She called for another ember, but to no avail; her cyndaquil’s confidence had evaporated quicker than midsummer rain, and he cowered, whimpering, rather than obey. Defeated, she returned him to his ball.

The repel it was, then. She reached surreptitiously for the clasp of her backpack; the gastly was still moving slowly and she didn’t want to give him any reason to speed up.

“I don’t want to run. This pokémon means me no harm,” she thought.

She creased her brow. That was an awfully strange thing for her to think, and she could see no reason why she had thought it. Well, the latter half was a reasonable inference, given she hadn’t been attacked yet, but if she couldn’t capture him there was really no reason to hang around.

“Perhaps it would come willingly, if asked,” she thought.

Would he? It seemed unlikely. Why would anyone want to hitch a ride with an untried trainer – no, worse than untried, one whose most recent failing they had been a party to. No, she wasn’t that naïve. There was something wrong.

“What about your dreams? Surely that is reason enough for both of us.”

Realisation dawned. She’d slept undisturbed for the first time in over a month and here was a pokémon that ate dreams for lunch. That was hardly a coincidence. Could she really be rid of them for good? It sounded too good to be true.

What didn’t make sense, though, was referring to herself in the third person. That was the sole province of the criminally insane.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she said, pointing an accusing finger at the gastly. “You’re speaking in my head.”

For the first time, something seemed to have an effect on the pokémon; his lips split in a manic grin and he began to laugh the rich, loud and above all long laugh traditionally associated with stage villainy. Did ghost types need to breathe? She made a mental note to check up later.

At long last the laughter faded, though the grin remained.

She’d read a little on telepathy in school, and so she knew that he wasn’t exactly talking in her mind. Telepathy only conveyed vague thoughts and emotions – it was the recipient that shaped them into words. There’d been a special word for it, but she’d long forgotten it. Whatever it was called, that was what he did. His voice, if it could be called that, was lofty and magnanimous, but with a hint of amusement that suggested he was enjoying some private joke.

“Very clever, little girl! Yes, I’m the one you’re looking for. I can eat away those nightmares of yours, no problem at all – so long as you take me with you.”

“R-really? You’d do that for me?” she said, surprised to find her voice trembling. “Even after…”

“Of course, of course!” he thought, still grinning madly. “I’m used to that, believe me. Now, do we have a deal?”

He hadn’t promised to fight for her, but he didn’t need to. The deal was sweet enough already. In truth, she would have done far more for a holiday from her dreams.

When the ball hit, he didn’t resist. The device did not shake, as she had been told it would, when it hit the floor. There was just a brief flash of red and an electric ‘ting’, and it was over. It had been suspiciously easy.

She picked up the ball gingerly, half expecting it to explode in her hand.
 
Last edited:

Breezy

Well-Known Member
Hmm ... I don't think I've read a story where a ghost type acted within symbiotic relationship, but it really makes sense. I want to remain optimistic, think that this may be a relationship that stays beneficial to both parties, but the whole ending line:

There was just a brief flash of red and an electric ‘ting’, and it was over. It had been suspiciously easy.
leaves me suspicious. Foreshadowing? D:

I also like how you refer to the mother's dead body as, well, "the body." I have no idea why. I just think it's really creative and neat and some other word I can't think of to separate the mother's living form (who is still her mother) from her corpse (the body). Like two separate entities. I'm not sure if this is going to continue into later chapters, but ... meh. Still like it. =P

I liked the first section. I like the jumble of emotions that Larissa was in that segment; it worked well. It wasn't corny, not sappy and soggy with tears, but at the same time it wasn't filled with emo-like statements. It was a nice mix that seemed realistic. The flashback that Larissa had was beautifully written as well. After that, her personality seems to get lost in the exposition

You portrayed the gastly as I would imagined it to be. Playful, but at the same time creepy and sinister. =P

My only major "eh" moments (which weren't really "eh" moments to begin with) was the second transition from Larissa having trouble sleeping to her awakening from a nice sleep. You commented on the hard time she had sleeping but then didn't really express it outside that one comment. Actually, that entire "second scene" seems slow compared to the other two. Understandably it was important exposition in order to understand the later scene, but it just seemed you were telling us this information just to tell us. It didn't flow as well as the other two sections, and thus didn't transition all that well either.

Another issue I had was your use of quotation marks while using thought.

“I don’t want to run. This pokémon means me no harm,” she thought.

[...]

“Perhaps it would come willingly, if asked,” she thought.
Quotation marks are used to indicate speech said out loud and not internalized dialogue. At least that's what will first jump to mind when a reader sees quotation marks -- that it is dialogue being spoken. Since you're using a pretty creative plot element (some sort of odd telepathy), I'm not sure if you meant for this thought to be actually said out loud, or if it's just normal thought, i.e. thought not said out loud but kept in the head. If it's the latter, you better off omitting the quotation marks all together.

I don’t want to run, she thought. This pokémon means me no harm.​

Some people use italics in case as it's sometimes hard to pick out the thought from the actual narrative if your internalized dialogue runs on too long, which is why some people immediately follow a single statement/sentence with a speech tag (or thought tag ... whatever) followed by the rest of that thought.

I do like the thought segments, though, especially when she realizes that it's the gastly speaking/thinking toward her.

Deciding on a camp site was an important part of setting up a tent, and so any experienced camper would have clucked their tongue disapprovingly had they seen the way she slung it down any old where a handful of steps from the path.
This sentence, particularly the last clause, seems clunky to me, though I'm not sure if it's me reading it awkwardly. I get what is being said, of course, but ... eh. Took me a couple of read overs to unravel it.

He looked game enough, though, crouched low and growling.
I think "crouched" should be "crouching." Not sure.

Other than that, I have no idea where this is going, but that's a good thing. I think so anyway. Not sure if it's going down a more sinister route, or a ... happier one? Sure. Let's go with that. It's an interesting concept that I really like.

On that awkward note, I shall end it here. Good job. =P
 

Elemental Charizam

Sudden Genre Shift
Neat, a nice long review. Thanks, Breezy!

My only major "eh" moments (which weren't really "eh" moments to begin with) was the second transition from Larissa having trouble sleeping to her awakening from a nice sleep. You commented on the hard time she had sleeping but then didn't really express it outside that one comment. Actually, that entire "second scene" seems slow compared to the other two. Understandably it was important exposition in order to understand the later scene, but it just seemed you were telling us this information just to tell us. It didn't flow as well as the other two sections, and thus didn't transition all that well either.

That's a good point. The way to fix it is, I think, to rewrite the second scene so that it starts with her trying to get to sleep in her tent and thinking back, so that her voice is more prominent in the narration and the sleeplessness thing is reinforced. It's not exactly dynamic action, but I think having some kind of meaningful thing going on in the present which ties to the exposition would make it more interesting. Frankly, walking down the path doesn't really add anything - it's kind of an artifact of the way I wrote the first chapter, writing whatever came to mind to see where it'd lead.

You portrayed the gastly as I would imagined it to be. Playful, but at the same time creepy and sinister. =P

You think? Finding a style of speaking for him that worked in the way I wanted to proved to be quite challenging - I wanted him to phrase it in a way that would appeal to the MC but keep a kind of manic edge to it. I had to tone down the latter to make it fit, so it's relieving to hear it worked.

Quotation marks are used to indicate speech said out loud and not internalized dialogue. At least that's what will first jump to mind when a reader sees quotation marks -- that it is dialogue being spoken. Since you're using a pretty creative plot element (some sort of odd telepathy), I'm not sure if you meant for this thought to be actually said out loud, or if it's just normal thought, i.e. thought not said out loud but kept in the head. If it's the latter, you better off omitting the quotation marks all together.

I don’t want to run, she thought. This pokémon means me no harm.

Some people use italics in case as it's sometimes hard to pick out the thought from the actual narrative if your internalized dialogue runs on too long, which is why some people immediately follow a single statement/sentence with a speech tag (or thought tag ... whatever) followed by the rest of that thought.

I do like the thought segments, though, especially when she realizes that it's the gastly speaking/thinking toward her.

I write thought like this:

Damn it all, thought Alonso, he sunk my battleship.

The thoughts there are written in the way I write telepathy - that they're separated by a new paragraph and marked with quotation marks is meant to be a sign that the MC's subconscious is kicking her in the back of the brain.

This sentence, particularly the last clause, seems clunky to me, though I'm not sure if it's me reading it awkwardly. I get what is being said, of course, but ... eh. Took me a couple of read overs to unravel it.

It is rather, isn't it? it's being excised entirely due to the scene shift, though, so no worries there.

@Moonlightning
It really made me realise that the emotions she was feeling were raw and powerful. Also you closed her off from the outsideworld, as if nobody would help her.

Good to know, conveying character emotion is generally a weak point of mine.

I really like it so far, its as if she is running away from her troubles by going on this journey, trying to bury the past.

This very much becomes a 'thing' later on.

Thanks for reviewing!
 

IJuggler

how much words
Breezy and moon said most of the things I was thinking, but there is still one thing that I felt to be odd. The transition from Gastly being a wandering, unintelligent/unaware Pokemon to it being a rich, cultivated Pokemon was a bit abrubt. I was surprised; from how Gastly is portrayed before the telepathy, I would've imagined him an outcast from Sprout Tower, or something.

Another thing I appreciated was your character's apethetic view towards her starter. It really fit in with her, and now it's the only thing I could expect from her.
 

Elemental Charizam

Sudden Genre Shift
Chapter Two: Welcome Home

Over six years had passed since the young girl called Larissa had first set out on her journey. From the back of her flygon, Alex, she could see the outskirts of Blackthorn nestled among the mountain trees below. They were travelling fast and high and she had to cling tight to her flygon’s body to keep warm. She grinned madly. Even after a thousand flights the experience was utterly exhilarating. The rush of air filled her ears and blew her long hair in all directions. It was a pain at the best of times, and she’d have to comb it all over as soon as they landed, but she wouldn’t dream of cutting it. She knew it bemused Alice, but not even best friends make sense to each other all of the time.

Larissa saw her, now and then, flitting through the clouds on her garchomp. He was built like a jet engine, and indeed he could have gone much faster than he was presently going if not for politeness’ sake.

As they circled over the glittering lake, Alice shouted something inaudible. It had probably been a call to descend, though – one of the lakeside houses was hers, although Larissa couldn’t tell which from the air. A roof was a roof, as far as she was concerned; they hadn’t featured prominently in her life for some time. As the garchomp had started to spiral downward it was presumably quite close. She urged Alex to follow and held on tight as he pulled into a tight dive.

The ground shook at their landing. Larissa dismounted with care, trying to avoid wetting the hem of her jeans on the dew-laden grass. They had touched down in the garden of a gated two-story house with a stately façade. Dragon grotesques protruded from the area where the wall met the roof tiles. It would have been more impressive, Larissa thought, if the houses to either side, and indeed throughout the compound, didn’t look almost exactly the same. The garden looked nice, though, with the spring flowers in full bloom.

“I knew we should have stopped at that town,” said Alice, walking unsteadily up the path.

“Is that so? I must be going senile in my old age,” said Larissa, whose legs were fine, “because I remember you vetoing the detour.”

“Knowing a thing’s a bad idea is no barrier to doing it,” said Alice mildly.

“That’s true. That is so, so true,” said Larissa, with as much irony as would stick. “When I’m with you, every day is an education.”

Alice drew back the knocker, a stylised dragonair head, and gave the door a few short raps.

The door opened almost at once. Alice’s mother, Samantha, a kindly looking woman in the shallow end of middle age, stepped forward and hugged her daughter tight. Alice was quite hard to embarrass, but when it came to parental affection she had the same clay feet as most teenagers. Larissa tried not smile.

“Hi, Mum.”

“It’s so nice to have you back, dear,” said Samantha happily. “And it’s always good to see you too, of course”, she added, turning to hug Larissa. She was that kind of person.

“You’ll have to see yourselves in, I’m afraid, I was just about to take the cakes out of the oven,” she said, motioning cheerily to the left and went off, presumably to the kitchen.

Larissa followed Alice through to the living room. It hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d visited. In fact, it didn’t look like it’d changed for a very long time indeed; the furnishings were high quality and durable but very old fashioned. Larissa knew the house was quite tidy, by most people’s standards, but she was used to bare pokécenter rooms or tents filled with nothing but what she carried on her back. Houses always seemed cluttered to her. She sat beside Alice on the sofa, wedging her pack between her knees.

Shortly, Samantha walked through with a plate of cakes and glasses of lemonade on a tray. Laying it on the coffee table, she sat down in an armchair.

“Do help yourselves,” she said. Larissa took a glass of lemonade, mainly to be polite – she’d never liked the cloudy kind all that much.

“It’s nice to have you back early, for once. You should go and see Clair later, she’ll be pleased to see you,” she went on.

“Well, we weren’t planning on challenging the gym for a while yet,” said Alice wretchedly.

“That’s not what I meant. Really, dear, I wish you two would stop avoiding each other.” She sighed. “Family is important, you know.”

“Yes, Mum, but so is my sanity.”

In Larissa’s experience, sanity wasn’t a highly valued commodity in Blackthorn.

“I’m sure you can have a little conversation with your cousin without going mad,” said Samantha reproachfully.

“It’d be the flaming row after that’d do it,” muttered Alice.

“Sorry, dear?”

“I was just talking to myself, Mum. I thought I might as well get some practice in.”

Samantha pounced on this. “You are going, then?”

“Eventually. When the burden of sanity grows too heavy to bear,” she said, and catching the look on her mother’s face added, “I was going to show Larissa the shrine and things first. Right, Lara?”

This was the first Larissa had heard of it. She’d been trying to avoid getting involved in even the most amiable family dispute, but she could hardly ignore a direct question. “Oh yes,” she lied. “I look forward to it immensely.”

A lie in more ways than one. She’d met the clan elder once before and remembered him as a dreadfully tedious man. He’d undoubtedly be there. Besides, the whole clan thing wasn’t really her milieu; she’d always found it slightly creepy, truth be told.

“Ah well, I suppose I can’t force you to visit her,” sighed Samantha. Rather overdramatically, Larissa thought.

There was silence for a while, broken only by the sound of someone slurping lemonade. Not an awkward or charged silence, just a period without sound.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” said Samantha. “That Daniel boy came around with some flowers earlier.”

Alice groaned. “I hope you told him where he could stick them.”

“I was a little bit more diplomatic than that, dear. And I stuck them in a vase.”

“It’s been three years, mother! He’s stuck at it through three years of being completely ignored. Diplomacy is wasted on him. He just doesn’t understand subtlety. He’s like a growlithe with a bone. The only way to get him to let go is to be firm.”

“Maybe you should try hitting him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper,” suggested Larissa.

“Oh, I’m sure I could find something heavier,” said Alice, not quite under her breath.

“I’ll try having another word with his mother, if you like,” offered Samantha. “I don’t like to think of him bothering you, but you know how boys are his age.”

“Well, I thought I did. If they’re all supposed to be like him then I can’t have been paying much attention.”

“Well, it’s funny you should say that. Your grandmother was asking me only yesterday how the great grandchildren were com-” she began.

“Mother!”

***​

A few hours later, just after midday, Alice and Larrisa lay on the back of the former’s gyarados as she ploughed steadily through the lake. They’d left all but two of their other pokémon – their garchomp and flygon, who were already tired – to work on endurance training while they went to visit the dragon shrine. It promised to be a tedious afternoon.

“I knew we shouldn’t have come here early,” sighed Alice. What she did not say, Larissa noted, was anything specifically about family.

“Well, it was your idea,” said Larissa. “Hey, this conversation isn’t half familiar.”

“It’s not my fault. It’s this whole homesickness ‘thing’. When I’m away, coming home is always on my mind. When I get here, I’m soon reminded why it was so easy to leave.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever missed Violet City.”

“Well, who would?” asked Alice. “Blackthorn’s not that big a dump.”

“The whole clan thing is pretty weird, though, you have to admit,” said Larissa. “There’s no bird cult in Violet.”

“It’s not as weird as you think it is,” said Alice, noting the word ‘cult’. “But yeah, it can be trying.”

They were close enough now to make out the mouth of the cave that housed the shrine, thought the inside wasn’t yet visible. Something else must have been, though, because with a sudden movement she pointed an accusing finger at the rocky shore.

“Look at that!” she shouted incredulously.

Moving closer, Larissa sighted along the outthrust arm; she could just make out a human shape on the shore with what she assumed to be a bright red fishing pole.

“I guess they’re not supposed to be fishing here, huh?” she asked.

“He most certainly is not!”

“Maybe we should let it slide, eh? He’s just catching pokémon. It’s not like he’s stealing,” Larissa ventured.

“Nuts to that,” said Alice, with feeling. “No one’s poaching on my watch. Faster, Ren.”

The gyarados surged forward, the lake bulging about the creamy scales of her underbelly as she drove on. Frothy water stretched in their wake.

Larissa couldn’t help notice that her friend’s enthusiasm for family matters was directly proportional to how much violence was involved. “We only have three pokémon,” she reminded her.

“Oh, please. It’ll be fiiine.”

Whoever the mystery fisher was, he barely spared them a glance as they approached. Of course, Larissa thought, he had no idea he was about to be accosted. She sighed, perhaps a little theatrically. He was just some kid, fifteen at the oldest. Funny how the closer two people are in age the more childish the older perceives the younger to be, came an unbidden thought.

Only when the swell of water in front of Ren pushed his float shoreward did he seem to pay them any attention. “Do you mind? I’m trying to fish here,” he said, sounding more than a little annoyed.

Privately, Larissa nicknamed him Fisher.

Alice leapt from Ren’s back. Larissa followed, not wanting to be caught there in the event of a battle with Fisher. She noticed five pokéballs about the boy’s waist - not a complete team, which was a good sign.

“I’m afraid that’s the problem,” said Alice. “You’re not allowed to.”

“Yeah? And who’re you, miss? The Neighbourhood watch?”

Alice fished out her necklace – a dragon’s tooth threaded on a silver chain. The boy’s disposition shifted from cloudy to overcast. He put his rod aside and rose to his feet, which would have been more impressive if he weren’t some four inches shorter than both of them.

“Huh, you think you own the whole goddamn lake, is that it?”

“Nope, just this bit,” said Alice.

Larissa tried to say something placating, but found it impossible to get a word in edgeways.

“You think you’re better than the rest of us, is that it?” asked Fisher.

Probably safe to mark that as rhetorical, Larissa thought.

“Listen, kid,” said Alice, diplomat of the year, “I don’t know how it escaped your notice, but dratini aren’t exactly the most common pokémon around. If every sucker with a fishing pole could waltz in here and catch one the lake would be bare in a week.”

“Yeah? And of course you’re so great that those that can be caught sustainably default to you. Seems fair to me!” The boy was shouting now.

“It’s because of the contract between my family and the pokémon here,” said Alice. “A contract that is, by the way, several centuries old.”

“Ah, so your qualification is being born,” Fisher snorted. “Well, as you’ve done such a great job for such a long time, I’m sure there are plenty of dratini to go around.”

“Look, kid, this isn’t a debate. Get lost.”

“You’re right,” he said, reaching for one of the balls at his waist, “it isn’t.”

“Who could have predicted that this would end in violence?” asked Larissa sardonically.

With a flash a small raticate materialised a short distance from the boy. Dropping to all fours it bared its long teeth at them, hissing. Alice regarded it as a conductor might someone trying to box a freight train.

“Hyper fa-”

Alice’s gyarados attacked without warning. A lance of force and light burst from her mouth to strike the raticate with unerring accuracy. Air roared outward as the ground exploded, buffeting Larissa with blasts of stinging dust. Clods of earth spattered on the rocks around her in a muddy barrage.

The sound and fury faded to nothing, leaving the lakeside tranquil once more.

When the dust cleared the raticate lay unconscious in the centre of a small crater, its webbed feet twitching into the air. Its brown fur, previously lush and well groomed, stuck out in all directions, streaked with dirt. Fisher was visibly shaken as he returned it to its ball.

“Nice use of initiative, Ren,” said Alice cheerfully. The gyarados rumbled appreciatively, still short of breath. “Now, can we cut this farce short?”

“A tiny bit excessive, perhaps,” said Larissa, brushing herself down. Of course, gyarados were hardly the gentlest of pokémon.

Wordlessly, Fisher released a second pokémon, a saurian machoke rippling with muscle. It took in its surroundings quickly and without fanfare, eschewing the raticate’s intimidating display. Fisher gave it an order, too quiet for either of the girls to hear, and it charged toward Ren, the gills on its arms flaring as it ran.

“Dive, make distance, Surf and Whirlpool to keep it,” ordered Alice.

Ren lunged headfirst into the lake just as the machoke leapt from the shore, the arch of her serpentine body all that remained above the waves. Those hard scales absorbed the impact of the machoke’s flying strike so that it hurt little more than her temper. Crashing down into the lake, the machoke trod water hard, weighed down by that mass of muscle and bone that made it so strong on land. It was out of its element, powerless to stop Ren swimming away.

“Told you it’d be fine, Lara,” said Alice, paying the battle little attention.

Not, Larissa thought, that she needed to. The machoke was as good as beaten, and if the rest of Fisher’s pokémon were of a similar calibre, as seemed likely, there was no real danger. Still, she couldn’t help feeling that caution would have been more advisable. A fifteen year old trainer would have had five years to hone their skills and build a killer team, even if they lacked the obsession required for tournament success. She wondered why this one hadn’t. Maybe he’d given up on training professionally – lots of kids flaked out in the first few months. Others stuck at it, but found the freedom of doing whatever they wanted outweighed their ambition - or couldn’t help being distracted by it.

Some, of course, were just really, really bad at it.

“Machoke, use Rest!” shouted Fisher.

***​

The bedroom door closed quietly behind Larissa. She’d caught a glimpse of Alice’s as they said goodnight. It still looked like a ten year old’s bedroom, albeit much tidier, as if it had been locked away from time. It was pink. The bed sheets had frills. Larissa had seen it before, of course, but it was always strange to be reminded of what Alice had been like before they met. It was hard to reconcile the two.

She flopped onto the bed, changing into her pyjamas quickly.

It had been a long day, what with the journey, the fight and the elder’s endless font of fortune-cookie wisdom. The soft fabric of the bed sheets felt good on her aching body. She’d fished a book from her pack earlier, but she was too tired to read it.

Her hand grasped a pokéball, etched with the name ‘Eidolon’, and released the catch. He appeared in a flash, the gases that made up his miasmic body contriving to look solid as they coalesced into the shape of a gengar. He gave her a toothy white grin wider than his body.

As he placed his hands on her forehead, she fell once more into a dreamless sleep.
 
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Breezy

Well-Known Member
I come bearing gifts of late reviews.

Larissa tried not smile.
Not to.

“And it’s always good to see you too, of course”,
Comma should be inside.

“Do help yourselves,” she said. Larissa took a glass of lemonade, mainly to be polite – she’d never liked the cloudy kind all that much.
This isn't really a nitpick (just a dense moment from me, really), but what do you mean by "cloudy kind all that much"? Is that referring to the lemonade?

I enjoyed this chapter. I mean, yeah, not much happened other than introducing Alice and a few pokemon, but it was relaxing. I'm still wandering in the dark about where this story is heading, which IMO is still a good thing, but it's been a pleasant ride so far.

Alice is an interesting character and she her personality (somewhat sassy but strong) fits as a dragon clan family member. I also liked her interaction with "Fisher." I liked the part where Fisher pretty much scoffed at Alice being a dragon clan ... member person thing (or whatever lol).

“Yeah? And of course you’re so great that those that can be caught sustainably default to you. Seems fair to me!” The boy was shouting now.

“It’s because of the contract between my family and the pokémon here,” said Alice. “A contract that is, by the way, several centuries old.”

“Ah, so your qualification is being born,” Fisher snorted. “Well, as you’ve done such a great job for such a long time, I’m sure there are plenty of dratini to go around.”
Loved this bit of dialogue. Fisher's lines do make sense, lol.

I like the wit you sneak into the narrative. It's not overbearing but gives your story a nice little snap. The same goes with your description. There aren't any parts where the story seemed to faltered because you just had to describe something; you smoothly make it flow with the action.

The gyarados surged forward, the lake bulging about the creamy scales of her underbelly as she drove on. Frothy water stretched in their wake.
I really, really liked the description on this section. It's a nice use of wording and language. "Frothy" and "creamy" work delightfully well together.

*shrug* That's about it. =P There isn't much I can say that's "negative" per say other than to watch for the small typo here and there.
 

jirachiman876

The King of Kirby
EC is aliiive!!!! OMG!!!!
Sorry, had to get that out of the way first, and now onto the review.
I guess I can't really add onto much of what Breezeh already posted (it's always hard to follow stuff like that). What I can say is great job, I'm excited by what's going on. I like the new addition of Alice, it's slowly starting to fill together. And then we see our Ghastly in the end, now a Gengar. Wonder what happened in the 6 years in between, but it's sounded pretty good.
As always, description is pretty good. And I didn't find many errors. So I guess, there is really nothing else to add, other than I'll be reading this until you lose interest, I'm excited about reading more.
jirachiman out ;385;
 
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