Chapter 46 – Day 17, Part 2: Horns

Chapter 46: Day 17, Part 2 – Horns

Liechi Ravine: 2nd Floor

It was so uniquely rare for Dahlia to be busy for extended periods of time.

Normally, she would adjust her schedule to accommodate her early morning routine, getting into a comfortable, rhythmic process that was simple and easy to remember. Sticking to her habits kept her comfortable, with everything else just fading into the winds she rode.

However, the past week had been nothing but turbulent winds. Though not quite to the degree of a hurricane—which she might have even preferred. Work still progressed like normal, just at a faster rate. More of those outlaws—the ones that had only grown in number over the past couple of weeks—popped up on the notice board. And Holly, opportunist that she was, took as many as Dahlia and Pink would allow and then some.

Some weeks were just like that, Dahlia reasoned. It would end eventually, and she could return to normalcy. Holly always had her moments where nothing would stop her, and Dahlia could live with that. That fact was one of many that made them such a good team.

However, she had to admit, hearing the same spiel from these outlaws for the tenth time in a row was starting to get grating. Both Holly and Pink seemed to agree, what with their attitudes during today’s mission.

It was a Drapion this time, and a loud one at that. “Our wrongs will be made right!” he yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls of Liechi Ravine. “The savior will topple Kebia and-“

“And bring us closer to enlightenment or some shit, we know,” Pink grumbled. She lifted up her fists threateningly. “Can you just shut up and sit down?”

Dahlia was earnestly surprised that Pink was paying attention enough to remember that bit, but her surprise quickly turned to annoyance when the Drapion continued in spite of the threats. No wonder Pink remembered it; even as they were getting clocked, these dimwits never stopped talking.

“You’re all just…pawns of the system!” The Drapion went on. “The monarchy will be your ruin! D-don’t fall for their lies!”

Sure is persistent for someone backed up against a wall, Dahlia thought. Most of that had to do with Pink and Holly, who had effectively chased the guy down instead of blasting him immediately. Petty criminals deserve a chance to go back quietly, but the rising heat in the air told Dahlia that they’d be dragging this guy back to town.

Dahlia fluttered down next to Holly, nearly singing her feathers on the Houndoom’s glowing fur alone. She said, “I don’t think he’s going to listen, Holly.”

“I know,” Holly growled. The Houndoom’s eyes narrowed fiercely at the Drapion, which made him slink back timidly against the rocky outcrop. Licks of flame pushed against her red lips, like desperate claws grasping for ways to escape and strike.

The guy was shaking and quivering, likely close to pissing himself. A couple of the outlaws they already took in did while in the same position. Holly just had that effect on pokemon, even when she wasn’t trying to.

Pink took a step forward. “We don’t care! Five seconds, that’s all you get! Now come on!”

There was hesitation on the Drapion’s face, his pincers snapping defensively. “N-no,” he cried. “You’ll invade my mind! Steal my memories! You’ll never take m-“

Like most of these outlaws, the Drapion didn’t get to finish his speech. He was up in flames in just, well, less than five seconds. He screamed and screamed until he went down, the smell of burnt carapace and poison rotting away at Dahlia’s tiny nostrils.

“Hey!” Pink complained, crossing her arms over her chest. “I said five seconds! That was three.”

Needless to say Holly wasn’t listening. She went up to check on the Drapion and see if he was still conscious. Or breathing. Another reason why Team Phlox tended to use violence as a last resort: you can’t earn a whole lot from a dead pokemon.

Good thing, then, that most of them were pretty resilient. Dahlia had been caught on fire before—it wasn’t fun, but the feathers grew back in just a few weeks. This Drapion would be fine, and she didn’t need to look at him closely to know that.

“The bastard wasn’t gonna listen,” Holly said with a shrug.

“Most of them haven’t,” Dahlia remarked, landing on the poison type’s outstretched and limp pincer. “In fact they’ve been getting more persistent, haven’t they? Can’t imagine why.”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. We’re just lucky he only got two floors in.”

Pink waltzed over and casually leaned up against the side of the Drapion’s large body. “I thought you liked it when they gave chase, Holly,” she snarked. Despite being half the guy’s size, Pink trampled the Drapion in confidence. Really made Dahlia wonder, for probably the fifth time this week, who in distortion these idiots were and why so many of them were chumps?

Holly’s response was to sniff the Drapion’s body and ignore Pink. “If only size meant more profit.” She exhaled loudly through her nose, looking up at Dahlia with a disgruntled snarl. “We might have to call in a carrier for this.”

Oh Arceus, Dahlia knew what that meant. The worst part was that she didn’t even disagree. Drapion had such long and unwieldy appendages that it’d be a pain to carry him, even if he never woke up.

Why did they take this job again? Oh yeah, Holly insisted on it. And now Dahlia would have to fly all the way to the castle and back. Though it wouldn’t even be that big of a deal if the carriers weren’t so juvenile. That line of work always attracted the worst kinds of winged pokemon.

Dahlia sighed. “Didn’t I say that I liked to get a heads up about these sorts of things?”

For a moment Holly just stared blankly. Her scars outlined a contorting of thoughts that only seemed to be churning slower with each passing day. Not helped whatsoever by how distracted she seemed. It took her a bit, but she eventually said, “I forgot.”

Well, at least Dahlia didn’t have to fight today. Shaking her head, she lifted herself up into the air, pointing her beak at an unrelated opening in the rocks in the distance. “I think that will be all from me,” she chirped. “Let’s meet up at Altaria’s in the evening. We can cash in tomorrow.”

“Here, here,” Pink affirmed, raising a hand. “I’ll grab the Escape Orb.”

What Holly said next confused Dahlia quite a bit: “It pisses me off that they’re clinging on to something that won’t change.” The Houndoom’s broken horn dipped with her head as she sat on her haunches, waiting. Her eyes remained on the Drapion—the only hint as to what she was referring to.

Pink snorted, her hand still digging through the bag around her shoulder. “I know, it’s stupid. When will they ever learn?”

Dahlia, meanwhile, studied Holly’s face. Her long, scrunched up snout and pointed gaze—accentuated by wrinkles slowly stealing the fierceness of her features. If there was a word to best describe the old hound it wouldn’t be “scary” or even “intimidating.” If anything, it was “thoughtful.”

Holly thought more than any other pokemon Dahlia knew. She planned, considered, and reasoned during every waking moment that she had. Dahlia could ask her at any given time what her goal was and Holly would always have an answer, after a bit of thinking.

Her age was showing a bit, which might have explained why she seemed so different lately. The Holly that Dahlia knew wouldn’t care at all to be pissed at some criminals. It was all money in the end—money that Holly claimed would benefit the three of them.

She could have always been like that. With Holly handedly being the oldest on the team, it was no surprise that she cut out all of the nonsense and stayed so goal-oriented. Maybe it was a habit from her time in the war. Dahlia never asked.

Prodding so deep at something so touchy was rude, even for Dahlia. But even so, she decided at that moment that she’d ask about it later. It would be just like those days when they started working together, huddling around in the ramshackle sacks they called beds and sharing secrets.

As the light of the Escape Orb enveloped them, Dahlia could only hope that Holly wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

---

It was decently common for Team Phlox to open a conversation with Pink’s romantic pursuits. Talks about the young ladies she would attempt to swoon, and how repeated disappointments led to new and creative methods to win them over. It was just that, usually, these conversations had a pessimistic bitterness about them. Regrets and what-could’ve-beens included, alongside some comforting and good-natured ribbing.

Habitual and comical as it was, Dahlia hoped that her friend would one day enter Altaria’s with good news for once. The stories about how Pink would spend an entire day walking on her hands or how she had to become an expert in Bolt Break in an afternoon were fun, but only to a certain extent for Pink herself.

So, what a shock it was to see the Monferno arriving after both Holly and Dahlia that evening, then, with a satisfied smile on her face.

Dahlia had ordered a soothing grepa flavored tea, rich with sugar and raisins. Warmed not with Special energy courtesy of a fire type, but instead with Altaria’s unique human-made boiler, tuned to perfection, slow cooked. The kind of over-the-top luxury that only accompanied a “forget it, I’m treating myself today” type mentality.

After flying from Kebia and back so many times it would have taken a miracle to drag her beak from that tea. And Pink, with her big stupid smile, made the Murkrow pause, tongue still mid-tasting: the impossible.

Holly broke the ice first out of the three of them, projecting her voice above the late evening crawl of exhausted guild pokemon. She said, “Do I even want to ask why you took so long?” The Houndoom was lounging in the booth beside Dahlia, a half-eaten mixture of scrambled eggs and Tepig sausage wedged in a plate between her paws. Despite her presence, she was a patient eater.

This was usually the point in these conversations where Pink would relay the results of her pursuits in as clear terms as possible. And if not, then there was a catch. Something often to the extent of “okay, I might need some help with this one.” Those tended to be the most ridiculous scenarios.

Rarely did she ever say her efforts bore fruit right off the bat, though. This had to have been one of those rare occurrences, and Dahlia realized it by the time Pink plopped herself down in the booth.

She had a swagger to her step. A brighter flame than normal. Her smirk rose with her cheeks.

“Heh,” Pink boasted,” guess who just landed herself a date?” Two thumbs were pointed inward at the Monferno. “That’s right. It’s me.”

She seemed so confident about it, too. Her tail was swinging happily and her eyes were bright. Dahlia’s beak fell open in wordless shock.

Holly, meanwhile, took the opportunity to dig at Pink. “Pity dates don’t count,” she snickered. Words hot as fire—that was just how Holly rolled.

“Hey, if anything I pity more than a third of my dates, so technically they do count,” Pink retorted, throwing her arms behind her head casually. That joke of Holly’s dug deep and hit rock. That was just how it was with them.

Besides, nothing could have broken that smile of Pink’s. Not only did something go right for once, Pink was proven to be correct. Now that was new.

Dahlia clacked her beak together. “Well?” she inquired. “Who is it?”

With her arm slung around the back of the booth, Pink said, “You know the show girls? Marigold’s bunch?”

“Don’t tell me…” Holly grumbled.

Could it be…? Just yesterday Dahlia caught wind of some juicy gossip about one of the girls who sings and dances every week at the castle. One of them was a lesbian, apparently, which was hardly a shock to the early birds. Dahlia herself barely remembered which girl it was, what with how they all seemed to blend together as a non-observer.

For the poor girl’s sake, Dahlia feigned ignorance for a little while longer. “No kidding,” she said. “I thought you weren’t trying to punch above your weight, Pink. What changed?”

Pink smirked, less smug and more prideful this time around. “Mazus changed, that’s what. Broke up with her shitty boyfriend and-“

“And then she found you,” Holly interjected. Was she smirking as she said that?

Oh right, Mazus. That was her name “Lilligant, right?” Dahlia asked. “I think I remember that petal dance she does.”

To say that Pink looked absolutely smitten was underselling it. She put her hand under her chin and gazed off at nothing wistfully, as though she were playing that Lilligant’s dance moves in her mind over and over again.

Pink sighed contentedly. “That’s her. Arceus, You should see her under the sunlight. What a babe.”

Dahlia chuckled at that. Although not much of a poet, Pink spoke loudly about two things: her fists and her love life. Loudly and often. It was cute now, but Dahlia doubted it would ever stop. At least she was happy.

Meanwhile, Holly was less convinced.

“You’re playing with fire here, Pink,” the Houndoom growled. Her teeth were barred furiously—nothing new there.

Pink shrugged it off. “Hey, I can control my fire! Just because we’re conflicting types doesn’t mean we can’t get natural.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

When was the last time Holly even so much as implied something like that? Dahlia thought. For all I know she’s asexual, but I surprisingly don’t know everything.

“Then what did you mean?” Pink challenged.

Holly lowered her voice slightly and said, “Same as every other time you find a new snack to munch on. This one’s different, though. Everyone knows her name, and they’ll know yours soon, too. It’s unwanted attention.”

For you and us, Dahlia imagined Holly saying next. She could understand where the Houndoom was coming from, considering Dahlia’s own experience. The last thing she wanted was to be the talk-of-the-castle. That would be humiliating.

But they were a team and they knew each other well, so even Pink could guess what Holly wanted to add after that. Her expression soured. “I’m not gonna screw this up, okay!” She harrumphed, flicking her hand upward in exasperation. “It’s unfair how she can’t even deal with a breakup without the Mandibuzz swooping in for scraps.”

Ever the subtle Monferno, Pink shot a quick glare at Dahlia, to which the Murkrow frowned.

“And you hit it off by consoling her over that,” Holly stated, not asked—because she knew it was true.

Pink just threw up her arms, her voice raising high enough to turn a few heads. “What’s so wrong about that? I’ve done worse.”

Yes, she had. A lot worse, actually. Dahlia didn’t even have to mention the time Pink offered to commune with a girl’s dead grandfather if it meant they could get together. There were times where Dahlia swore she could still see the mark on Pink’s face where she had been slapped.

Holly shook her head grimly. “I’m just saying that you’re walking a thin line,” she explained. “You should prepare for the worst.”

Pink rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, granny, I know.”

While Holly did have a point, Dahlia had to agree that the Houndoom was being a bit too harsh here. She flapped her wings once, getting both of her teammate’s attention.

“I think we should just be happy that Pink found someone, Holly,” Dahlia chimed in. “Take it from me: the Mandibuzz will find a new carcass eventually.” After they take all of the-

“Maybe after they pick off all the bones…” Holly took a large bite out of her meal, effectively swallowing any remaining words down with it.

The Houndoom’s eyes were on her meal, but they may as well have been burning a hole in Dahlia’s skull. Sometimes Dahlia wished they were strangers—at least then their conversations could be less awkward and they wouldn’t know what the other was thinking half the time.

“Bring it on,” Pink said, throwing a couple punches at the air. “I deal with sweaty losers all day. They won’t be talking for much longer when I introduce them to my fists.” Not like any of this deterred Pink, obviously. That Monferno could lose all of her limbs and still find a way to join the circus.

With her next punch, Pink knocked over their table’s salt shaker, spilling its contents into a pile between the three of them. Pink froze, exchanging looks with Dahlia sheepishly.

Dahlia looked at the spilled salt impassively, wordlessly for a moment. Her talons gripped comfortably at the grooved leather of a perch situated on top of the table. Altaria’s, graciously, provided customary seating for a variety of pokemon, cementing itself as a “multi-acclimated” establishment.

Accommodating every body type was near impossible with the space given, but the options provided—ranging from refillable tanks of water to extendable tables with more leg room—was very welcome indeed. Dahlia even had a favorite perch, with squishy leather that fit her talons like a glove. Just like how Holly had a favorite booth that fit her just right. Pink, in contrast, didn’t seem to care.

Sighing, Dahlia fluttered onto the greasy diner tabletop, promptly setting the salt shaker upright with one of her talons. The good news Pink brought already accomplished the impossible by dragging Dahlia’s tongue from her tea, and now the Monferno had accomplished the unthinkable and lured Dahlia off her perch.

“I really do hope this one works out, Pink,” Dahlia chirped, eyes still on the salt. “You’ve been at this ever since we first met.”

Pink’s fists had since melted into flat palms on the table. She looked away, gazing at some random pokemon eating their meals. “Yeah, well…finding a girlfriend’s…kinda important to me,” she mumbled.

“It won’t solve all of your problems,” Holly reminded her, a slight bit of resignation in her voice. “Or prove anything.”

Pink looked back at Holly, her expression never faltering. Resolute, determined, and even a bit pained best explained it. She grunted, “It’ll make things easier. Give me somebody to fight for, you know?”

“We don’t count, huh?” Dahlia asked cheekily. She had since risen back up to her perch, diving right into her plumage for some impromptu grooming. Her beak brushed past the hard surface of a pink diamond latched onto her wing, just out of sight—Stork’s gift. Just this past week Dahlia had begun carrying it around with her as a sort of reminder. It comforted her in its opulence, but it also blinded her with its garishness.

Case in point, Dahlia missed a line from both Pink and Holly, only catching back up when she lifted her beak out of her feathers.

“…what happens after you chase your last tail?” Holly challenged, the air between the three of them suddenly smelling of smoke.

Pink sat back, throwing her legs on the table and crossing them without much care. “Then I’ve got myself a pretty nice tail. What can I say, Holly? Life’s all about living. When’s the last time you’ve done that?”

“What, chase tails?”

“Live.”

“I am living.”

“You’re working, Holly.” Pink wagged her finger in the air, teasing the Houndoom. “Don’t lie, you wanted to do a second job today, didn’t you?”

Holly puffed smoke rings from her nostrils. “…We had the time for it,” she grumbled.

Pink retorted with: “And I have the time to shovel rocks and make a bed out of the ones I keep. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it.”

That was a decent point there. Holly was a lot of things, and a workaholic was certainly one of them. Had she asked Dahlia and Pink if they wanted to work more today, both of them would have said no without question. Holly still would have asked, not because she couldn’t pick up on it, but because that was what she wanted to do.

Dahlia thought that it was just Holly’s way of filling time or even her way of getting her mind off of things. Finding some amount of control in this hole the three of them were in. Or maybe she had nothing better to do. Deep in her mind, though, Dahlia had always figured that there was another reason Holly elected not to share—why the Houndoom seemed so driven by work and nothing else.

Right, Dahlia was going to ask about that tonight. She almost forgot.

Coincidentally, what Holly said next was a proper transition. She outright barked at Pink. “Listen, life is all about finding something that keeps us going. A goal and whatever the fuck.” She jabbed her paw through the air, snarling. “And chasing tails doesn’t count.”

Pink crossed her arms, her lips twisted into a half-smile. “Now who’s the hypocrite?” she said.

Dahlia thought it a good moment to step in right then. “What counts for you, then, Holly?” the Murkrow asked.

Still baring her teeth when she swung her head towards Dahlia, Holly snapped, her jaw smacking together like pistons. “Thriving without regrets.” Simple, yet vague.

What does she mean by that? Dahlia thought, tilting her head. She didn’t get a chance to ask, though, as an Altaria wearing an apron arrived just then with a plate atop her cloudy wing.

“Order for Pink!” Altaria squawked. That same plate, topped with spicy custap-flavored pancakes slid across the table before bumping the Monferno’s leg. “Toes off the table!”

The whole interaction sped by so quickly that Pink didn’t even get a chance to sit up straight before being scolded. Her ears twitched as her back straightened stiffer than a Duralodon. “Thanks…About time,” she murmured. Pink had a thing about not using utensils, so she grabbed a handful of the flat cakes and started eating. Table manners be damned.

Altaria sighed. “Givin’ the new bellboy enough work as is with all the foreigners recently.” Chipper as always, but not without blowing out exhaustion through her beak, the bird smiled like an old friend. “A shame we lost that Gulpin; she was always good about suckin’ out the grease.”

Holly made a noise akin to a disgusted Lickitung in a dumpster who just licked something foul. “Just another reason why I eat on the seats,” she mumbled.

“I clean them after hours no matter what!” Altaria said. “You just need to do your part and not make my job harder.”

“Glad we can agree on something.” Holly dipped her snout back into her meal.

With the other two occupied, Altaria flashed a grin only another bird pokemon could recognize—the kind of grin punctuated by a soft trill and flick of the tongue. “Dahlia!” she crooned. “How have you been keepin’?”

“Begonia!” Dahlia crooned in return. “I’ve been keeping well enough, all things considered. Work has been noticeably strenuous these past few weeks, as you know. It hasn’t really gotten any better.”

Pleasantries aside, it always set the Murkrow at ease to be in the company of other winged pokemon. Just like how Holly sometimes ran with a pack in the morning for her daily exercise; familiarity sparked like a wildfire in Kebia, and it was always worth it to stoke that flame.

The ribbons atop Begonia’s head wilted as if drenched. “Tsk, and I here I was hopin’ it got easier for you,” she mused. “Seems to be a trend with other teams, too. Not just yours.”

Pink loudly gulped down a chunk of her pancakes. “Unwelcome competition if you ask me.”

Holly agreed by saying “Means we gotta work twice as hard.” Although if Dahlia hadn’t known Holly that sentiment would have sounded bitter. It still did, but only in the sense that Holly always sounded bitter.

“Hard workers, the lot of you,” Begonia said, wings relaxed at her side. “I would love to get you some cakes on-the-house to make up for it, but…”

Dahlia rolled her eyes jokingly. “Work has been hard for you, too, yes.”

And then Begonia wiped the anxious sweat off her brow like she was actually expecting any of Team Phlox to argue. They had been coming to this diner for a good eight years now; they knew that Begonia only gave out free meals for two reasons: retirement and donations at Marigold’s request.

“Phew! And that’s why you’re my best customer.” Begonia winked, swaying as she turned away. “Anyway, tch. Sorry, darlings. I’d love to stay and chat, but dinner rush kills more waitresses than feral Sharpedos year-round.”

It was in the moment between Begonia turning away and Dahlia lifting her wing to wave that the Murkrow noticed something shine in the evening light on the Altaria’s chest. She knew that shimmer anywhere—from opal stone necklaces to diamond brooches to the gem she nestled in her plumage at that very moment. Only a pretty bauble could sparkle like that and demand Dahlia’s attention.

Begonia picked up some new bling, and Dahlia couldn’t just ignore it.

“That’s fine,” Dahlia said, “but before you go, what’s that?” Her wing, which had shifted trajectory, pointed at Begonia’s chest. “A new necklace?”

Confused at first, Begonia peered down at the chain around her neck. Her expression changed to be more reminiscent of the disgruntled lower-wage employee most expected her to be. However, judging by her frown, it seemed that response had more to do with the why behind the necklace itself.

“Oh, this?” she said, bringing the object at the end of the chain into view. “Right, um, it’s a family heirloom.”

“Looks…unique,” Dahlia commented. And she meant it, too. Glassy, smooth, and rounded—it looked like one of those human-made spheres Dahlia collected from time-to-time. What did Stork call them again? Marbles?

White, pink, and blue intermingled at curves like flowing leaves under the surface, spiraling around itself to the other side. No matter what way she looked at it, however, and in spite of the lighting, it always seemed to face the same way, under the glass. It was the strangest piece of jewelry Dahlia had ever seen, only rivaled by those eclectic art pieces designed by that family of Alakazam in town. Logic failed the object as much as it hindered its existence.

Pink snorted. “Weirder than unique. Your family owned it?”

“My dad, specifically,” Begonia said. “He gave it to me recently…” She trailed off.

Dahlia realized just then that Begonia never mentioned her father before. Not like they were close enough to talk about their families at all, but they had talked enough for Dahlia to mention her own family, further up north.

Her father had passed away several years prior, and her mother busied herself as a professor at a university in Lanset, effectively retired at her age. Had it not been for her younger sister, Azalea, Dahlia might not have traveled to Kebia for work.

She hadn’t thought of them in a while, let alone communicated with them in the time since. With Dahlia of all pokemon being open about that, she couldn’t help but wonder why Begonia never mentioned her father.

“Your dad’s got weird taste,” Pink said.

Begonia let the necklace fall back to her chest as she looked at Pink. “I didn’t know he had taste before he sent it to me.”

Sent? Dahlia tilted her head. “So he mailed it to you? Where does he live?”

Begonia looked at Dahlia next, her frown deepening. “He lives in Kebia,” she answered. “Right down the road in an old house that’s been there since before the war.” She angled her neck to the side, gesturing behind her. “This is the first time I’ve heard from him in years…” Again, she trailed off.

Sounded like they didn’t have a good relationship. Dahlia could relate, at least somewhat. “Maybe it means something?” Dahlia offered. “He might want to reconnect.” Or fix a mistake. Dahlia’s own father never got the chance.

“I don’t know,” Begonia muttered. “I think…it belonged to my mom. Maybe…maybe something reminded him of her. Last I checked he was still stuck in his old ways, so it could mean anything…” Now it sounded like she was reasoning it out with herself. Dahlia’s feathers prickled uncomfortably at being subject to her thoughts.

Holly chimed in for the first time since Dahlia pointed out the necklace, causing the other three to jump at her coarse voice. “Do you think it’s a thoughtful gift?”

Begonia looked back down at the sphere, pensive. “…I’m not sure. The package didn’t even include a note. I just recognized it from when I was younger.” She paused, blinking several times. Then she met Holly’s gaze. Her eyes had become softer. “I like to think it is, though. It’s been years; both of us should have moved on by now. It’s probably supposed to speak for itself.”

“Hm.” Holly’s throat rumbled with a suppressed growl. Her single in-tact horn jutted upward with the stiffness of her neck. She spoke, not a hint of emotion slipping through. “I would tear the throat of any mon that gave me a stone like the one you have right there.” She flicked her snout to the side. “You should throw it away.”

Begonia’s beak fell open in shock. “W-what…why?” she breathed.

“Yeah,” Pink said, eying Holly warily, “what’s the big idea, Holly? I know you’re not a jewelry gal, but it ain’t that bad.”

A harsh reaction, that was for sure. If anything, Dahlia was just curious as to what it really meant. The biggest reaction any piece of jewelry had ever gotten out of the Houndoom was an uninterested snort, much to Dahlia’s chagrin.

Holly’s stony expression turned to one of pure fury, lips pulled back over her fangs to show the gums underneath. “Don’t care if it’s rude,” she snarled. “That’s a Mega Stone. You don’t fuck around with those.”

Although she visibly winced from Holly’s intensity, Begonia leaned in, stone clutched in her wing. She asked, curiously, “…Mega Stone? What, like…the kind that turned the Gallade at the center of town? I think I remember hearing…something about that.”

Holly nodded, her snarl taking on a more fiendish quality to it.

All of this was new information to Dahlia. She considered herself an expert when it came to shiny things, and an even bigger source of gossip. But somehow the term “Mega Stone” had eluded her up until now. She shot Holly a sidelong glance.

“Holly, how do you know this?” Dahlia wondered.

The Houndoom glanced at Dahlia through the corner of her eye, ultimately keeping her snout pointed at Begonia. “You can’t buy a Mega Stone,” she stated. “No one’s gonna sell one to you or tell you about them. Because if you have one, it’s exactly where it needs to be. If you don’t, then you’ll never find one.”

Pink wiped her forehead. “What in Moltres’ tailfeathers are you talking about, Holly?” she said, confused.

“I don’t understand either,” Begonia said. “I know about special orbs and seeds that function inside dungeons. I’m not denying what you’re saying is true. I just- What do these- what does my necklace do?”

Holly exchanged glances with the other three pokemon at the table, seemingly checking to see if they were still there and paying attention. In a low voice, she growled simply, “Power. Power on par with dead legends. You know evolution? These stones force it. Makes you transform into a beast.”

“Oh my…” Begonia was trembling now.

Well, Holly wouldn’t lie. Dahlia knew that for certain. It just surprised the Murkrow that Holly knew something she didn’t.

Dahlia fluffed her feathers as she watched intently. “You’re not making any sense, Holly,” Dahlia said. “I’ve never heard of forcing evolution.”

It was a natural process, one that worked differently for every mon. For some, it just outright didn’t happen for the entirety of their lives, regardless of whether it was possible for them or not. Some pointed to violence and self preservation as the key, others found no correlation.

Dahlia was, what, twenty six years old now? At the rate her life was going she was expecting to never evolve. So to force it felt sacrilegious, as though Arceus himself would smite her down if he caught wind of it.

“There’s a catch,” Holly continued, as though Dahlia hadn’t just expressed doubt, “it comes with a price.”

“What kind of price?” Pink asked.

“Anything it wants. But it always takes something from you. Something you hold dear. Something important to you and only you.”

Holly’s eyes fell on the trembling Altaria with a gaze sharp enough to cut iron. “Never use that stone,” she said in a heavy tone, dense enough to crowd open air. “Not under any circumstances. It’s not worth it.”

Begonia gulped. She looked around herself at the ignorant patrons busy chipping at their dinners. Luckily none of them called to get her attention during the past conversation, though Dahlia could tell that Begonia was running out of patience for superstition, or whatever this was.

“I’ll uh…have to keep that in mind,” Begonia muttered. Once more she looked down at her necklace—the Mega Stone. It might have just been a trick of the light, Dahlia couldn’t exactly tell, but she was almost certain that the stone was glowing a faint blue. “…I have to get back to work. It was nice talking to you three. Stick around after hours if you want to chat some more.”

Pink grimaced in her attempt to smile. “Yeah…it’s been a long day so probably not,” she said.

“Thank you for the offer, though,” Dahlia chirped. “We’ll leave you a big tip.”

Holly said nothing.

Faintly smiling, and without another word, Begonia shuffled off to another table and picked up a few used plates and glasses. Dahlia watched her, the movements of her talons and the shifting of her wings under new weight. As well as Begonia’s beak, which seemed to angle downward more times than what was normal for reasons Dahlia could only assume.

“So,” Pink said to Holly clamorously, snapping Dahlia out of her stupor, “what was it like?”

Holly looked at her straight with her lips made small. “What was what like?”

Pink jabbed a finger downward onto the tabletop. Her other hand was holding her chin as her elbow propped her up. “The stone. You’ve used one, right? How else would you have known all of that?”

Holly glared wordlessly.

“I mean,” Pink added with a shrug, “you did say that you can’t buy any-“

“Maddening.” It was in that moment that Holly sat up onto her haunches. She erected her scarred snout so high and so stiffly that both Pink and Dahlia had to look up to see her. Her tail curled around her legs, dignifying her. “I was only sixteen at the time. The wounds never healed.”

At the first mention of wounds, Dahlia’s eyes trailed up past Holly’s ardent yet distant gaze to what remained of her horns. A long crack trailed from about half-way up her left horn to its base, while the right horn had been cleanly severed down to an off-white stub. Pink seemingly noticed the same discrepancy.

Pink frowned as she rubbed her chin. “Hold on,” she said, “I don’t get it.”

Holly flared her nostrils. “Do I need to spell it out for you?” she questioned in a grumpy sounding voice.

“No, I got that part.” Pink held up her arms in a shrug. “I just don’t see the big deal. ‘Something you hold dear,’ huh. You look awesome, Holly. That second horn of yours was just holding you back.”

Holly bared her teeth aggressively, her fangs glowing red with flame, her hackles raising. She barked, “Shut your fucking mouth. Don’t talk about my horns like you know anything, you hear me?”

In response, Pink sunk into the cushions of her seat like it would swallow her whole. She held up the flat of her hands, wide-eyed. “Okay, okay, geez…”

As much as Dahlia didn’t like being on the receiving end of Holly’s fury, a surge of guilt hit her when she realized that this was technically her fault. She was the one that prodded about the Mega Stone first, not Pink. Dahlia flapped her wings loudly. “Holly, please!” she squawked. “Calm down. You know she didn’t mean anything by it.”

Black smoke billowed from Holly’s nostrils as she burped out any excess flame into her closed maw—her way of pulling back. “…I know,” she growled. “Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like talking about it.”

No better opportunity than now, I suppose.

Dahlia sighed. There were certainly worse ways to learn more about another pokemon. If only Holly made it easy for them once in a while instead of scowling and steaming.

“Maybe you should tell us about it, then,” Dahlia said. “So we know what not to talk about.”

Pink slowly lowered her arms. “Yeah…what she said. What’s the deal with the horns, Holly?”

Holly looked away. “It’s not important,” she mumbled. “I just don’t like it when anyone brings it up.”

Clearly. Dahlia softened her voice and told her, “Holly, we’re your friends, you can trust us. Don’t you remember when I told you about how my dad used to get?”

Pink added, “Or how shitty my aunt was? I still can’t do basic math without freaking out, by the way. You’re not the only one with scars.”

None of these were happy conversations, and Dahlia was a bit more generous in her recollections compared to Pink, but they were better for it in the end. And surely, Holly would be better for it, too.

Before, Holly was looking off to the side, likely at nothing. After Pink’s comment about scars, she angled her snout up at the ceiling, taking in slow breaths with closed eyes. In and out. Then she finally brought her snout back to level, puffing out clean air.

She opened her eyes, looking between her teammates. “I’ve never told this to anyone that wasn’t directly involved, I hope you two know that,” Holly said.

Dahlia might’ve smiled had it not been for the subject matter. She nodded instead, waiting for Holly to continue.

And she did. Holly began: “I was a kid during the war. You wouldn’t think that by looking at me, but I was just as stupid as any other teenager they enlisted.”

Terrifying that it genuinely got to that point, Dahlia thought. I’m glad I wasn’t born back then.

“My family had traditions—strict ones that we all had to follow. We’re a long line of Houndoom going way back to before Kebia was even established. And a big point of pride for us are…our horns.”

“Oh…” Pink muttered. She sounded like she knew where this was going.

“Let me just say, “Holly continued, “nobody forced me to fight. But damn if I wasn’t expected to. All of my five brothers fought. Same with my parents, my cousins, and any other Houndoom that wasn’t smoldering on their deathbed.

“With so many of us, we had to compete for glory. If you weren’t throwing yourself at the enemy then you weren’t trying hard enough. My brothers—the ones that survived—all got medals. And so did I.”

Dahlia asked quietly, “Do you still have them?”

“No,” Holly said, and she didn’t elaborate. “We had a Mega Stone in the family. Just one. It worked for all of us, but I never got to see anyone but me use it. Even back then it wasn’t something you wore like a piece of jewelry.”

Dahlia clutched Stork’s gem closer to herself under her plumage.

Holly sighed deeply. Her eyes were intense, and full of regret. “I wanted to prove that I was capable. I was… the youngest and only bitch in my sibling’s litter. If I didn’t earn my respect I would never escape the shame for the rest of my life. So I stole it.”

“You stole it?” Pink parroted in disbelief.

Holly nodded. “I wasn’t good enough,” she said darkly. “I knew I wasn’t. But somehow I knew that if I used that stone I’d never be forgotten.” She looked down at her paws. “Even if it meant pissing off my parents, and everyone else in my family. When you’re a teenager there’s nothing worse than that. But the adrenaline told me they would get over it eventually.”

“But they didn’t…” Dahlia added out loud.

“No,” Holly responded. For a moment, Dahlia wasn’t entirely sure if Holly was saying that to her or someone else. It was difficult to tell at this point if Holly was listening to anything but the probable ringing in her ears.

“The stone was never the problem, though. My mom was saving it for herself as a last resort…or to steal the glory in one final blaze of combat. Not that she would ever admit that. She had a short temper and didn’t like to talk about herself, but I could handle it.

“I won my fight. Came back covered in bandages and I had a bunch of broken bones, but I did it. My brothers would do the same constantly. But in my case…I was a disappointment.”

Holly dug her claws into the cushions of her seat, tearing at the fabric. “When the stone’s power left me, it took my horn with it,” she said. “Gone. Not even because of the blood I spilled; the stone itself stole it from me.

“I…look- a Houndoom’s horns are fucking everything. They’re a symbol. Power, maturity, family, love, strength—everything. Losing them isn’t just a failure, or a mistake. It’s a betrayal. You’re not a Houndoom anymore without your horns.”

She lifted one of her paws and gestured to her downturned face. “The wounds stayed glued to my flesh as an extra reminder. The stone tattooed me with my recklessness, branded me as a mongrel without any honor.

“I wasn’t allowed back home after that. I may as well have died on that battlefield because my family refused to acknowledge my existence from that day forward. I had nowhere else to go.”

Dahlia’s heart dropped when she witnessed Holly raise her head, the lines on her face red and withered. Neither met the other’s gaze.

Holly’s voice took on a hint of gravel as she said, “That’s what the Mega Stone does. It rips out a part of you, breaks you, isolates you. I can’t even remember what I did when I used it, but I know what it means to get lost in the rush. I instantly understood that I would never be the same the second it had its grip on me. But by then it was too late.

“It didn’t just steal my horn, it stole my connection to my family. It ruined my life.”

There was a dreadfully quiet moment where it seemed like the entirety of the cafe was sucked out into a vacuum. Holly’s final words lingered heavily, reverberating through the enclosed space, taunting Dahlia with their finality. Only for the clamor of uncaring conversation to fade back into reality like nothing happened. The world did not stop for them; time rode forward and left them behind.

Pink brought her hand to the back of her head as she exhaled. “Holy shit…” she breathed, visibly cringing.

With those words, Dahlia blinked. She took inventory, loosening and gripping her sore talons, only to realize that she had been shuddering in place. Hearing Holly speak of her past rattled the Murkrow in ways she hadn’t been affected in years. Her talons dug into the perch so deeply that it tore the leather. Nauseating, aching heartbeats thumped against her chest.

“W-why have you never told us this before?” Dahlia asked as though she needed an explanation at all. It hurt just to learn about this thirty years after the fact. To live it…oh, Dahlia envied the old Houndoom’s strength.

Holly finally laid herself down on her belly and looked at Dahlia. Ruby rose eyes shined diamonds across the short distance, and yet who Dahlia saw was no less the Holly that she met a near decade ago. During that part of their lives, Holly had already decided her fate, her goals. In the time since, she had simply worked to achieve those goals.

“Other than the fact that I don’t want to relive it?” Holly scoffed sardonically. “There’s nothing you can do about it so there’s no point.”

Pink smashed her fist into the table. “Fuck that!” she glowered. “And fuck you! So what if I can’t do anything about it? I still care!” She flicked her wrist in Dahlia’s direction without looking at her. “She does too! We both do!”

“I know-” Holly started, but Pink cut her off.

“No you don’t! Groudon’s tits, I would’ve done so much more for you if I knew! You deserve better than to slave away at this shitty job, but you wouldn’t even agree!”

Pink leaned forward and pointed at Holly. “You are the hardest working mon I’ve ever met, Holly. Ever since the day we’ve made Team Phlox, you’ve done nothing but work work work. Day in and day out, and for what? Because you have one less horn than your family, suddenly you’re worth less? What kind of moronic-“

“I know!” It was Holly’s turn to cut Pink off. By all accounts, every bit of solemn self-hatred died out with that bark, and several heads turned towards the escalating argument. “What, you think I don’t know that? I didn’t ask for you two, but here you are—decades late.”

Dahlia’s heart broke. She took it back—if it meant being there for Holly sooner, helping with the pain, Dahlia would have braved any war-time strife. Yes, it was obvious now that all of these years of Holly overworking herself was for a reason. The thing was, Holly’s story didn’t answer the initial question: why? Why was she like this if her problem was more personal than either Dahlia or Pink could have assumed? What was the money for?

Dahlia chimed in and said, “We really do appreciate you, Holly. Really. And I’m glad the feeling’s mutual. But what are you trying to accomplish?” She sighed, preparing to take a gamble. “You don’t…owe them anything.”

Holly slumped her head to the side, the stump of her severed horn disappearing into the cushion of the seat. With her form now significantly less straight and imposing, she looked tired. All of those years were bleeding through and blanketing the pride on the surface. Battle scars didn’t age her anymore, they just functioned as they always have: ugly wounds that never healed. She said in a deep whisper, “…I need to get out of here.”

“Here?” Dahlia wondered.

“This continent,” Holly clarified. “I need to get to The Shard.”

Pink sat back and crossed her arms. Her face had yet to shake that perpetual scowl she was hosting. “Why?” she asked simply, bluntly.

Holly’s eyes were half-lidded, her voice mumbly and slurred, as if in a trance. “I need to undo the damage,” she said. “They’ve got healers down there that can fix more than just a broken body. They can reverse tragedies.

“It’s like the Mega Stones. No one would tell you about it, but it’s real. I know it is.”

Dahlia shuddered. “Holly…”

Holly wasn’t listening. “I don’t care…if they don’t care. It’s not about them anymore. Fuck, I don’t even care if I don’t find anything. The only way I’m going to be happy again is if I can get my horn back. My real horn. I have to try.”

“And let me guess,” Pink said, the scowl gone from her face, “it’s gonna cost a lot of money.”

Holly, with her eyes now completely closed, nodded. “A fortune. Everything I ever owned.”

All of her possessions, her profits, her work, and probably the majority of her life—just to reverse one mistake. Suffering alone even in the company of others, wasting away and fighting against the years that were slowly killing her. And it wasn’t even guaranteed. Sure, Dahlia had no doubt that there were some doctors out there that could regrow a single horn. She’d heard of pokemon bouncing back from worse.

If it were that simple, though, Holly wouldn’t be accumulating as much money as she possibly could. If what Holly said was true, and Mega Stones did more than just steal something meaningful from a pokemon, getting that horn back would be as impossible as resurrecting the dead. Something so unheard of that Dahlia would sound downright kooky just to prod into the possibility.

…Dammit, if I do this then I’ll never get any rest again, Dahlia thought, anxiously rubbing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. Holly sounded so vague in the descriptions of this plan she has. I’m gonna guess she’s only working off of rumors and hopes she can’t let go of. Not actual information.

Dahlia gripped her perch more tightly in her talons. She furrowed her brow at the Houndoom, so desperate and…hopeless, and began charting out a mental course to The Shard. Faces and names that had so much as mentioned the continent to her, had relatives that lived there, traveled there on occasion, conversed with friends of friends of friends…

There was about as much a chance of Dahlia finding out more about this as Holly happening to find something even remotely useful. It would potentially be a waste of both of their times. But at the very least, Holly wouldn’t be going at it alone anymore.

She deserved that much.

Dahlia turned her beak towards Pink, who happened to have turned to look at Dahlia at nearly the same moment. Their eyes met, and an unspoken agreement was made between them.

“Pink,” Dahlia started, “do you know anything about The Shard?”

Pink just shrugged. “I barely know anything about the continent I’m on right now.”

“We’ll have to change that.”

“Fuck yeah we will.”

It was at that moment that Holly’s eyes shot open. She grumbled, “Don’t you two start with this…”

“Too late for that, Holly,” Pink smirked. Pushing her plate aside, she slid out of her booth and up to her feet. “You think Mazus knows more about it? She’s smart, I bet she’s read a few books.”

Dahlia shook her head. “Are you using this as an excuse to get to know your girlfriend better? Because that’s surprisingly forward thinking of you.”

Pink stretched one of her arms over her head. “Yeah, I think before I do things sometimes, believe it or not.” She smiled at Holly confidently. “But I don’t need to put much thought into this to know that we’re doing the right thing.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Holly groaned. Though there was hardly any gumption behind those words. Any and all resistance was lost after her story was told.

And of course, Dahlia ignored her. It wasn’t like she got to do that much anyway, so there was a liberating aspect to it.

“I think she needs a drink,” Dahia said to Pink. “I’ll be right back.”

“Aye aye,” Pink replied with a salute.

There were more protests from Holly—something about spitting out the fruity beverages they had on the menu—but Dahlia was already fluttering up to one of the light fixtures on the ceiling in the middle of the cafe.

She took a deep breath. What a night. What. A. Night.

From up this far Dahlia could see the entire cafe. Every table and every salt shaker, and the dwindling sects of pokemon waiting out the dusk. She wondered if any of them had started their own journeys tonight. Like Begonia, who was behind the counter mixing a smoothie. That necklace of hers was still wrapped around her neck alongside the friendly guise she always wore on the job.

After the recent revelation, Dahlia couldn’t view Begonia with anything but remorse. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking at a mistake waiting to happen. What would that Altaria lose if she used the stone? Her job, her reputation, the entire cafe, or something even worse?

Arceus, thinking about it made Dahlia feel queasy. Holly would just have to wait a bit, this sickness needed to fade first.

Dahlia watched some of the other patrons in the meantime. A Buizel and a Piplup having the biggest laughs of their lives, a Rillaboom pouring over some book he was reading, and…huh.

A lone Quilava in one of the booths. Sipping away at a pink smoothie, and wearing a purple scarf. Dahlia stared for a moment, wracking her brain as to why this Quilava seemed so familiar. And in that time, the Quilava simply watched his reflection in the window, lost in thought.

Wasn’t that…Oswald’s teammate? Gosh, she hadn’t thought about him in a bit. What was his teammate doing out here so late? By himself, no less.

Now she was curious, if only because she was wondering how Oswald himself was doing. Last she saw him he was still fumbling about and getting tossed around. Maybe she’d seek him out tomorrow, if she remembered to do so.

Speaking of tomorrow, she planned on meeting up with Stork for the evening flock. In bird pokemon terms, “flock” loosely meant “meeting” in the sense that they’d discuss flight maneuvers, grooming techniques, and just in general get caught up with the latest news on-the-wind. A perfect start to her info hunt as far as Dahlia was concerned. Also meant that she didn’t have to worry about it until then.

Dahlia pulled out the pink gem from her plumage, images of Stork instantly filling her mind. It reminded her of him, and his rustic charm. Shining in the just the right ways, reflecting the Murkrow in a manner only borrowed opulence could.

Like Pink, she began to wonder if he too knew anything about The Shard. Stork wasn’t as proficient at talking to others compared to Dahlia, but he was sneakier.

In the final moments before Dahlia floated down to grab the final smoothie of the night, she devised a foolproof plan to coerce the gossip out of him. A bargain, a deal. She could also just ask, but when was that ever fun?

If there was anything tonight told her, it was that asking the right questions could change her life. For better or for worse. She’d just have to find out which it would be next in the coming days.