Work Text:
Tenant Wanted:
Furnished room in a charming Monteveran home. Must enjoy being around Ghost type pokemon. Pokemon are free-roaming and are left alone for hours at a time, but are trained and well cared for–
The rest of the ad was worn away, the ink smudged and unreadable in some places thanks to the sweat and– if she was honest– tears that had wet the page so many times. Flora held the ad in her hand and appraised it for what must’ve been the fiftieth time since applying for the room. It seemed too good to be true– Montenevera was a small town parked on Glaseado Mountain, and the population was just under 300 people. Out of the way, quiet, and often unnoticed by the louder media markets of Paldea.
It was perfect.
Sure, she was used to the warmer, balmier temperatures of Unova, but she could get used to the cold. After all, there was nothing a jacket and a few layers underneath couldn’t fix, right? And Bianca had always talked incessantly about wanting to visit somewhere colder growing up– she’d gone on and on about how important layering outfits was, with different colors and textures and styles of jewelry–
Suddenly, Flora couldn’t look at the ad anymore. The memory of her childhood best friend– former childhood best friend– was too much to bear, and she looked around her empty apartment, surveying the boxes and suitcases, a hard lump forming in her throat.
She swallowed, crumpled the ad in her hand, and picked up the wad of masking tape she’d been fiddling with a few moments before. Ten more boxes. That was all she had. Ten more boxes and a day of moving, loading and unloading, and a long flight on a plane… and then she’d leave Unova behind.
()()()
Four years ago had been the happiest day of her life.
She’d been more than happy to accept Burgh’s offer to become the new Gym Leader for Castelia City. She’d been more than happy to study under him in the year it had taken her to grow accustomed to the League Circuit’s politics and procedures. And she’d been more than happy to take on a new team of bug and grass-type pokemon.
The day the first trainer had walked in vying for the Insect Badge had been surreal. She’d thought of that day– the moment she’d really, truly lost– every time anyone entered the gym afterward.
She’d held the mantle for three years before it had all blown up in her face.
Burgh had been forced to step away from the projects he’d been working on– including the art walk in Castelia City– to take the gym back from her. She’d been so ashamed. The look on his face… the wariness and exhaustion in his eyes…
Tearing her eyes away from the cresting skyline of the city now was on the hardest things Flora had had to do in a very long time.
She blinked back tears as she looked to the view on the other side of the plane. The last of Castelia’s sewers were giving away to pristine blue, the last remnants of civilization disappearing before the ocean took over everything else.
The flight attendant had mentioned the map on her screen at length– the one that had information about what they were flying above, what sort of formations were lying under the water, and what kinds of pokemon she could find there– but she ignored all of that now, opting instead to keep her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap.
White noise droned around her in peaceful eternity. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, refusing to think about the sewers behind her, or the city itself, or the walls of murals Burgh had been working on before she’d been forced to step down.
If he was miserable now, forced to take time away from his art to battle incoming trainers, it was her fault. If the murals were never finished, it would be her fault. If the gym lost its spot on Unova’s circuit…
She swallowed another wave of tears and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
()()()
There was no direct flight up to the middle of Glaseado Mountain– instead, they landed at an airport located in the Western province of Paldea, tucked up against the mountain itself.
“It’s not going to be an easy flight,” the helicopter pilot warned her as she hauled the last of her belongings into its holding area. “The winds are stronger today than they have been all week. If you wanted, there’s a hotel in Medali–”
“No,” Flora answered, her tone clipped. “I want to do this today.”
The pilot looked at her for a moment before nodding. “Buckle up.”
And so she did.
It took an hour for the helicopter to safely make its way up the mountain. True to his word, the winds did account for most of the turbulence, but Flora was ready for it. She was grateful when they landed, but more thankful still to be out of Unova. The turbulence was nothing compared to all she’d been through.
It was freezing, though– the wind and sleet cut through her coat like it was made of paper, and she shivered as she grabbed the last of her suitcases. The pilot was kind enough to help her with the rest of her luggage. Montenevera wasn’t too far from the landing pad, but the cold made it a thousand times worse.
“Nothing like Unova, eh?” The pilot winked at her in lieu of a goodbye.
“No,” she answered simply, smiling politely at him.
“Good luck,” he told her after another moment of awkward silence.
He left her alone at the entrance to the city. She shivered under the metal-done archway, awed and intrigued all at once.
Montenevera was the kind of place they made movies after. It had the kind of scenery that was both terrifying and interesting in the same moment– iron-wrought gates and cold-light torches. Ghost-type pokemon wandered around freely, burrowing themselves in and out of piles of powdery snow.
The pathways were dusted in another layer of snow, but the purple cobblestones showed through nonetheless. Flora’s breath was a white puff in front of her face, and her cheeks were cold, her lips chapped as she began heading forward, following the directions to the house she’d been given— before the gym, take the path to the left. First house on the right.
“Gym” was too little of a word to truly describe the multi-story monstrosity that rose above the snowy ground. The gym was at least three stories of silver walls and tinted glass. Bright lights shone from the first floor, and a red carpet led the way inside. Outside was a statue of a short little pokemon with tufted fur and a little candle upon its head. The statue’s platform was covered in snow, but judging from what she had seen of the similarly shaped pokemon wandering around the city, the snow was perfect.
First house on the right. Up the path and exactly where Ryme had said it would be, Flora’s new home was just one story, covered in purple stones and lined with black stonework. Yellow porch lights lit the path, and in the dusky light of the mountain, the house looked like a ghostly cottage, cool and inviting.
There was a note on the door– at work, but make yourself at home! Dinner is in the fridge, take what you want.
Flora smiled. Her landlord had seemed nice enough in the emails they had sent back and forth, but this confirmed it– Ryme was a kind woman, gracious enough to open her home to a stranger.
The house was clean. Dark wood shone on the floors, and the walls were painted a pale purple. The sofa and couch in the living room were a soft, pillowy gray. The kitchen lights were off, but Flora still saw the note on the door to her right– Flora’s room. She opened the door.
It was perfect– comfortable carpet floors and a large queen bed, just as Ryme had promised there would be. The room was decorated as much of the house was. It was just as clean, and it felt… strangely like home.
With a happy sigh, Flora set down the duffel bag in her hand and sat down on the bed. This made the long travels worth it. For the first time since she could remember, her mind was quiet, and gone were the whispers of anxiety in the back of her mind.
She’d just laid down when there was a scuffling from beneath the bed, and then a quiet, lilting voice asked, “Who are you?”
Flora sat up. Her stomach twisted and tightened painfully. She looked around the room but saw nothing; it was as empty as it had been when she’d arrived.
But then the voice came again. “Who are you?”
Please, not now, she begged silently, shutting her eyes. She’d barely had a moments peace since arriving. She hadn’t even unpacked.
A pause– then a soft whoosh. A pokemon slid out from under the bed– white tufted fur covering its eyes, and a pale, ethereal candle glimmering in and out of existence. The pokemon stared at her curiously, quiet. It shifted its weight from paw to paw and Flora sighed, allowing herself a small smile. She slid off the bed and knelt down on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her.
“I’m Flora,” she answered softly, holding out a hand. “This is my room now.”
“Stranger,” the pokemon said in a tone as close to grumbling as Flora had ever heard. “Stranger.”
“Not a stranger.” Flora shook her head, putting a hand over her chest. “Flora.”
The candle atop the pokemon’s head brightened, then abruptly dimmed with its apparent surprise. “You… heard?”
“Mmhm.” Flora flicked her hand over the pokemon’s ears. “I–”
The pokemon turned, letting out a loud bark. A moment later, the front door opened and shut, and a loud voice called, “Flora? You here?”
“Here!” Flora called back, jumping to her feet. “Sorry, I–”
“What in the world are you apologizing for?” The woman at the door demanded. She was taking off her earrings when Flora rounded the corner, and they both halted, appraising one another.
For a single, terrible moment, Flora was afraid the light that shone in Ryme’s eyes was one of recognition, but if the older woman recognized her, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she dropped her golden, bulb-shaped earrings onto the little table by the door and took off her shoes, flipping them onto a black-pleated map.
“Well, I’m beat,” Ryme said with a heavy, peaceful sigh. “Have you eaten anything? There’s soup in the fridge.”
“I’m not hungry,” Flora said, “but thank you.”
Ryme nodded. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, you poor thing. Get some rest. We have plenty of time to get to know each other, after all.” She winked, then whistled lowly, looking over Flora’s shoulder. “Walter! Where are you, girl?”
Flora blinked. “Do you mean the pokemon in my bedroom?”
“Greavard,” Ryme filled in, “and yes! That’s the one. She loves that guest room– I should have warned you. You did say you didn’t mind being around pokemon–”
“I don’t,” Flora said. Then, “Walter… is a girl?”
“One of the kids that hangs out around the gym named her,” Ryme said, waving a hand. “Kids, you know? Who am I to argue?”
Who indeed.
“Goodnight,” Flora said, opening her door a bit wider to let the pokemon– Walter– out into the living room.
“Goodnight, dear,” Ryme said. “Oh! Walter! I made your favorite…”
Greavard. She’d avoided learning more about the ghostly pokemon that lived in the region, but this one seemed to have a particular fondness for her room. Maybe… maybe it was time she start learning about her new home. Even thinking about delving into research again made her stomach churn.
It had been years since she’d felt comfortable doing what she loved.
Being around pokemon– being able to hear their thoughts and feel their pain– had been so difficult…
She shut the door to her room and surveyed the boxes and suitcases stacked along the wall. Sleep was a ways off. She was almost grateful for her insomnia– almost.
()()()
A few hours and a night of tossing and turning later, Flora awoke to pale sunlight streaming through her bedroom curtains, casting long tendrils onto the carpet floor. The bedroom door was ajar, and a vase filled with tiny purple flowers had appeared on the table in the far corner of the room.
Ryme. A kind gesture, though Flora wasn’t sure why she would have done so.
Walter the greavard was lying in the corner of the room by the bathroom door, fast asleep on a patch of carpet that had caught the sunlight. The pokemon’s tiny candle flickered gently as it snuggled deeper into the warm carpet, and Flora couldn’t help but smile as she heard the pokemon softly sigh as she knelt down onto the floor.
She shut her eyes, breathing in deep as she settled into herself– into the thoughts twisting and twirling around her head. Unpacking last night had taken much of her energy, but she hadn’t slept well. She had much to do– figure out a way to make money so she could pay rent, figure out something to do around the city that didn’t directly involve being near pokemon. Make friends– real friends, and find a way to keep her abilities a secret.
She’d tried years ago to do that, and it hadn’t worked. There wasn’t a way to dampen her powers– only make them stronger. And there were only so many pokemon that she could stand to be around…
She couldn’t be around people– they always found out, and they always found her freakish in the end. She could barely stand to be around pokemon– their feelings and thoughts were strong and complex and a way the thoughts and feelings of humans weren’t, and she was terrified that it had changed her somehow, she was exhausted, and–
A soft, gentle warmth radiated through her from out of nowhere, and she looked down to find the greavard nestled onto her lap, its form as corporeal as it could get.
“Safe,” the pokemon said.
“No,” Flora answered, “no.”
“Safe.” It wasn’t a question, or an order– it was a promise and she felt it, the word like hope, bright sunshine and freedom.
“I wish, I really do,” Flora whispered, shaking her head. “But people like me… we don’t have a place in this world. It doesn’t matter where I go. Here… Montenevera won’t be any different.”
The greavard seemed to consider this for a moment, then got up from Flora’s lap and ran off– out the door and into the hall, where it stopped a moment, its eyes on Flora.
“Where are you–” Flora stood, and the greavard twitched a little, taking a step backward. “Don’t you dare,” she murmured, inching toward the flighty little pokemon. “Hey! Stop that!”
Her nose itched; the greavard took another step toward the door, then another. Tension rippled through Flora as she neared the pokemon, and she realized too late– as her hands reached out to grab it and the pokemon slipped through her fingers– that she was sensing the greavard’s innate need to run away, to play.
She scowled. There was no telling where it would have gone. And now she’d have to find it, of course– Rhyme very clearly loved the pokemon dearly, and if this one had vanished…
She sighed and went back to her room, put on her shoes and backpack, and went out the door.
To Be Continued !!