Chapter Four: Fall Apart, Together

While it would be fun to ignore all the warning signs, Solder felt awkward sitting on a pin as obvious as Larcen’s theft. They hadn’t known each other long, but it seemed like they’d be sticking together and Solder wasn’t excited to get pinned as an accomplice because it turned out the buizel was a master thief or something.

Sure, Larcen reassured him he wasn’t, but he did it clumsily.

A simple: “Why do you steal?” got something like: “ Well, uh… stealing’s not a super big deal right? Not like I’m killing anyone, huh? Ha! Bet you were a shoplifter before you got here. Nobody’s gotta be perfect.”

Naturally, “Why do you hate your dad?” didn’t get very far, either.

So Solder sighed and bore it, putting his thoughts aside so Larcen could explain the job. Something simple and uninspiring. They had to pick up some feathers for a fisherman by the docks.

They wandered down the valley, stopping only at a small mountain stream to fill their canteens. The morning seemed to have taken its toll on Larcen, leaving him unusually silent. He still shared whatever thought was on his mind, but with half the energy, an uneasy scratch at his collar and way too many wistful glances back at the guild, even after they’d turned the corner and all they could see were the towering walls of the valley.

“Eh, I’ll be fine,” Larcen said, unprompted, as they turned another corner and returned tentative waves from a pair of armoured turtles passing by. “Just gotta recover from the morning announcement. I’ll be right as rain! A month? Who cares! Just…”

Solder wasn’t too worried about Larcen before—busy enjoying the fresh air, the way the sun rolled over the mountains and dried all the morning dew still clinging to his fur—but maybe letting his mind run on its own hadn’t led anywhere good. He raised a brow at the buizel, but Larcen had stopped in the middle of the path, a defeated look spreading across his face.

“You okay?” Solder asked.

“…I think it’s all just hitting me now. A hundred pokemon. Huh. This is gonna be so embarrassing; you think Treebow would hire me as a clown?”

Solder tried to imagine the buizel with plaster-white makeup and rosy cheeks.

“Try janitor, first.”

Larcen took a deep breath, held his eyes closed, then released, shaking the tension out of his body like he’d knocked off a layer of snow. With a renewed twinkle in his eye, he skipped forward before Solder could react and threw an arm around his neck, along with his body. Solder struggled not to collapse, a pained grunt slipping out under Larcen’s weight.

“Alright! I’m back! Who’s ready to go dungeoneering?”

Solder wasn’t. And he made himself known with a particularly deep growl. Not like Larcen noticed; he kicked their journey into motion again.

Larcen pointed them towards a crag in the east-side cliff, close enough to Seafolk that Solder could see the path slope down into the village. It climbed up the rock face, zigzagging across the grey slate, breaking up carpets of emerald creepers spilling over the rocks. It didn’t look like much at first glance, but as they pushed through the tall grass lining the road and were swallowed by the valley’s shadow, it opened up into a wide gap that let them pass through side by side—cramped enough Solder felt more comfortable dropping on all fours so his pointy ears wouldn’t scrape the ceiling.

It was closed in, but not claustrophobic. Light seeped in from the other end of the crag, where the rocks sloped up into an open field. Solder just had to scamper up some rocky shelves, avoiding the cold streams of water dripping from the ceiling and sending chills down his neck as they soaked into his fur. Larcen slapped a paw on his shoulder right before the exit.

“Whoa. Guess you’re excited, after all,” Larcen said, giving Solder a condescending pat on the head. Solder scoffed and shoved him into the wall. Barely phased, Larcen hopped onto a rock, pointed his muzzle in the air and spread his arms wide. “This is it. Welcome to the dungeon!”

Solder looked around the tunnel flatly, not much standing out from the dingy grey stone and bits of dying grass hiding in shadowy corners. He expected a lot more out of a mystery dungeon based on Larcen’s description.

Larcen must have noticed his scepticism, because he fixed the quilava with a sly grin.

“We gotta walk through the tunnel, kid. It’s called Secret Field not… hidden cave? I dunno. C’mon, let’s go.”

But turning his attention to the exit didn’t reveal anything new. Just more tall grass—a little garden fenced in by cliffs. Definitely not anything he associated with a dungeon. Still, Larcen waited for him to climb up beside him, then grabbed him by the elbow and dragged them both out into the sun.

No paradigm shift happened as they crossed into the field. No great reveal, no drawing of curtains. It felt like a blink. Like waking up from a dream. One second, Solder stood in an enclosed alcove, the next it morphed into a wide open plain.

Solder binked and worked his jaw up and down. He scanned the horizon in disbelief. The towering cliffs fencing them in were just… gone. Replaced by nothing—blue skies and swaying fields as far as the eye could see. And even the sky felt alien. A pure, flat, blue colour, not a cloud, nor the sun to populate it. Just blue. Yet everything drowned in an even light. As solder held up his arm, he expected to see a shadow wrap around the underside where the light couldn’t reach, but it was all the same even cream colour. His fur disappeared into itself, seeming flat, lifeless.

Solder whipped around, a brief lapse of panic seizing him.

It spiked again once he saw the same landscape behind him.

He let his jaw drop open, his brow furrowing in confusion. He pieced together every bit of his surroundings—all flat, repeating scenery. Like they’d been dropped from the sky in the middle of nowhere. Larcen—now sitting in the grass and humming a song to himself—his only anchor.

“Crazy, huh?” Larcen asked, as if this was just another sunset.

Solder could only nod dumbly.

“How do we… get out?”

“Just keep walking. Eventually you’ll pass through the edge and pop back out the crag. Don’t ask. Nobody knows.”

Solder finally managed to shut his jaw with a sharp clack. He had so many questions running through his mind, but none of them led anywhere. The dungeon just… defied existence.

“Great,” he said—the one word that floated to the top of his mind. Larcen responded with a chuckle.

“I heard there’s another dungeon inland that’s pitch black. Like, you can’t get a fire or a torch or anything to work in there. This is pretty tame compared to that.” Larcen gave Solder a comforting smile. “This is the baby dungeon. Used to come here and scuffle with ferals when I was a little scamp.”

“And you want me to do that now? Beat up some birds and pluck all their feathers?”

Larcen sniffed, wrinkling up his muzzle.

“You don’t need to be weird about it. We only need a couple’a feathers.” He stood up, stretched his arms to the sky, and turned to Solder. “C’mon! It’s fun! Plus, the faster we go, the faster we can leave.”

Solder supposed that was true enough, so he sighed, let Larcen slap him on the back and followed dutifully behind as the buizel skipped off in some random direction.

Which only highlighted the strangeness. As he followed the path Larcen carved in the grass, sensation seemed to disappear. The sun’s heat didn’t warm him; it didn’t sting his eyes and force him to squint. The wind didn’t ruffle his fur. Even the feeling of dirt and grass cushioning his paws as he stepped felt numbed. The coolness of the morning gave way to a perfectly neutral temperature.

As a test, Solder concentrated, focused on the fire he’d summoned yesterday, and let a tongue of flame escape his mouth and spread over his forepaws.

Nothing. Even before, while it didn’t hurt, he’d felt a nice warmth. Now, the fire died alone and cold in his paws.

Solder shivered, focused on his heartbeat, and resolved to push on. This seemed like the type of place that would drive a pokemon insane. At least Larcen took it well. Sure enough, the buizel continued as if nothing was wrong, gleefully flattening grass until he stopped at a seemingly random point, holding up a paw. Solder took a few tentative steps to his side.

“Over there,” Larcen whispered, pointing a bit in front of them. A colourful bird with a white ruff and tall black crest nested in a swirl of grass, beak dug into its wing as it snored lightly.

“Feral chatot. That fisherman thinks they have the best feathers or whatever. Just give it a bit of trouble, hold it down, and we can grab a handful. It’s pretty easy; I used to wrestle these things into a headlock without using my type. You’ll do fine!”

Solder stroked his chin and examined the chatot. He gave himself a couple points right off the bat; it was certainly… smaller than him. And it looked pretty frail. He wasn’t exactly thrilled, it almost seemed unfair, but he’d give it a shot. And although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Larcen’s winning smile and pat of approval helped.

So Solder snuck up to the bird’s nest until he stood close enough to grab its crest like a door handle. Hesitating only a brief moment, he lunged forward, throwing his whole weight behind the attack.

Even though Solder had no interest in hurting the bird, it seemed he didn’t need to at first. He wrapped around it with his arms, pinning its wings down in a stiff hug. The chatot took a  moment to wake up—one blissful moment where the rapid pitter-patter of its little heart and ticklish feathers brushing Solder’s nose made it seem fine. He tensed as it ruffled a bit, then it settled down.

Oh. Easy enough.

…only to blast him with a bone-rattling shriek.

Solder held on. If anything, he gripped tighter, teeth grit against the violent ringing in his head. But the chatot thrashed, existing only as a ball of fury and feathers. It let loose again, one wing slipping free and battering Solder across the face. Another scream ripped through him and he couldn’t stop his muscles seizing. He hit the dirt. The chatot fled from his grip with a parting squawk, vanishing in the grass.

Solder shuddered, heaving breaths shooting bolts of pain deep into his bones. He felt a wetness around his mouth, around his eyes. A shaky paw came back wet, but not red.

Solder felt like he’d fallen off a cliff. What kind of demon was that?

“O-h… oh fuck!” He hissed, gritting his teeth. He slapped his paws to his eyes and groaned as the impact echoed at the back of his skull.

“Should’ve grabbed his beak,” said that idiot buizel who did nothing during that whole scene.

Solder felt irritation pound in his head, cooperating with his headache.

“Shut up. You could’ve told me it could do that!”

“Figured you’d try and fight it, not grab it. They’re more ah… excited when you surprise ‘em.”

“You told me to grab it!” Solder removed his paws—thankful, for once, that the sun wasn’t there to blind him—and let them flop into the grass. He rolled his eyes up to watch Larcen’s muzzle wrinkle in thought.

“Oh, yeah… huh. That’s weird. Oh, well!” Larcen bounced back quickly, hitting Solder with an unapologetic grin.

Solder tried to roll his eyes, but winced at the sting. Thankfully, while the initial pain was excruciating, all this time lying on the ground left him with little more than a dull ache. He managed to get to his feet with little more than a muffled groan, fixing Larcen with a flat glare.

“I’m not fighting any more,” he said fatly.

“Fine. I can show you how a master battler does it. But—” He cut himself off, strolled over to where Solder had been defeated and plucked a few blue and white feathers from the grass. “At least we still got some feathers.”

As if that was supposed to cure Solder’s headache. But he didn’t comment besides a raised brow, he just let Larcen wave him back on the same path they’d been heading before.

It didn’t take very long for them to find another chatot, this one taking a moment to preen itself, blissfully unaware of what happened not too far away.

For Solder, no bliss helped it anymore. It gave them the side-eye as it preened, and he swore a glimmer of challenge shone in there. Even though he stood more than a safe distance, Solder still scowled and took a few steps back.

Solder couldn’t tell if Larcen noticed his hesitation or was just excited to fight, but his tails kicked into a twirl behind him. He gave Solder a knowing look, and smoothed out his whiskers as if they’d stay flat if he combed through them once or twice.

“Watch and learn, kid,” he bragged, straightening his back.

A snappy comeback floated in the ether somewhere, but Solder couldn’t find it. He’d let the buizel have his day in the… complete lack of a sun.

“Impress me,” he said. Larcen hit him with a wink.

There were a couple of seconds where silence filled the void between them. Larcen snuck forward a little, testing the chatot, waiting to see when it tensed. At a couple metres, he stopped. Solder couldn’t see much—just the wild tuft of orange fur spiking from his head, the swell of muscles in his back. At first it seemed like he’d taken a deep breath.

Solder’s only experience with Larcen’s abilities were pretty mundane—Just some minor firefighting. He couldn’t expect much so, when Larcen launched a blast of water with enough force to drive him back, digging two deep trenches with his feet, Solder almost choked on his tongue.

No matter what he’d already seen, he could barely process a violent plume of water launching from the much smaller weasel.

The chatot had been eying them, but it couldn’t give more than a startled shriek as the shot slammed into it, sending it spiralling into the grass as a sopping mess. Larcen didn’t give it time to do much more than pointlessly flail its wings; he already entered mid-sprint by the time it hit the ground. With a twist, Larcen slammed it with his tails. Inexplicably, it looked as if the chatot folded under the weight of a club rather than a tail, sending it crashing through the brush. The sharp sound of whipped grass followed it down. It didn’t get back up.

“Brutal,” Solder whispered. Larcen turned then, paws on hips.

It’s the type of moment that forced Solder to reconsider a lot of things, like growing up and realising what was in his father’s canteen instead of water. Solder had very little to base that off of, but he had a feeling it sat parallel— that and the sour feeling in his throat. If anything, he was less excited to learn to fight now, if this is what it was supposed to be like—if even the most mundane creature can knock him on his ass.

Or maybe he was being unfair. He had a new respect for Larcen, at least.

The buizel took to plucking a couple handfuls of feathers from the downed chatot and stuffing them in his bag. In the brief lull, Solder managed a swig from his canteen.

“Want to try the next one?” Larcen asked. Solder watched his tails spin behind him, as if they weren’t just used to bludgeon a bird into submission.

He was torn. Truly. Going toe-to-toe with Larcen’s ego was worth something. But another bout with those damn birds? He considered it, squinting at the downed blue figure sprawled in the grass, humming thoughtfully to himself.

Then Larcen shrugged at him, shot him a sly grin, and his own ego was slain.

“Alright, fine.”

~(0)~

The second attempt didn’t go very far. Neither did the third. There was something to be said for Solder avoiding the chatot’s brain-rattling screeches, but he came out of it with fewer feathers than gashes from hard beaks and sharp talons.

The fourth attempt they made a discovery. Solder already knew he could spit fire, but his ability didn’t seem to extend much farther. All he got were a couple weak embers, no matter how much he pushed. But in a fit of frustration, facedown in the grass as a particularly persistent chatot swooped down and battered him, Solder felt all that heat building in his chest burst out, sparking from his back. It was a weird sensation, but between the heat and the screech that followed, a satisfying one.

Solder couldn’t see with his muzzle buried in the ground, but by Larcen’s account—which he somehow made sense of between his excited rambling and face-breaking grin—a great plume of fire erupted from his back.

So there were some weird, red fire-vents lining Solder’s spine. Larcen had no clue what they were for, and it’s not like Solder could see his own back easily, so it’s not surprising they went unexamined. Of course, Larcen took the first opportunity to prod them, goading Solder to try again.

Solder craned his neck far enough that he could see those bright red patterns for the first time. They looked innocent enough, like little red islands on a sea of turquoise fur. Then, feeling a twinge of power, an invisible muscle in his mind, Solder flexed it and watched a wave of fire burst from his back. Just as casual as he’d like.

He couldn’t help a crooked grin, feeling a bit deranged. In that way only someone with a weapon could. In a way, he finally got what firestarter meant: Dangerous, unyielding. He could understand why some townsfolk shied away from him.

For the first time, Solder could look at himself and feel that subtle, cutting fear he felt watching other pokemon use their powers.

Oh, those birds didn’t stand a chance.

Until they did.

As it turned out, the chatot weren’t much more afraid of him when he wreathed himself in flame. No, they just circled above him or screeched until he couldn’t draw any closer without risking ear damage. Even when he got a lucky shot in or managed to come close enough to singe one, the feathers they dropped were useless little bits of ash. Larcen’s enthusiasm dipped with each failure. Solder’s plummeted.

All Solder had to show for his efforts was a deep scowl, a headache, and a trail of charred grass that followed his limping gait out of the dungeon.

At least Larcen had the sense not to say much, all his enthusiasm left at a simmer, hidden between awkward glances and sympathetic frowns. Once they’d collected enough feathers Larcen gave him a pat on the back and they trudged forward until they passed through a barrier like the one they entered from.

In a blink, they were outside, facing out to the road. Solder didn’t have it in him to be surprised.

“I’m not doing the fighting anymore,” Solder spat, a tongue of flame following his words.

“Aww, c’mon. You just need a bit of practice!”

“I was terrible, I didn’t enjoy it. I’m not doing it anymore.”

And that was that; Larcen rolled his eyes, but let him simmer. Solder knew he was being childish. He knew the next day he’d probably weaken with enough pushing, but in the moment the heat in his face refused to die down no matter how much fire he released.

“You uh…” Larcen started, eyeing him, “wanna get cleaned up? How do fire-types even take a bath anyway?”

Solder ignored his irritation for a moment to look down at himself. Sure enough his fur was a patchwork of grass stains, fresh pink scratches and dirt. He sighed.

“Let’s finish the job first. Then we’ll figure something out.”

That may have been a mistake if Solder cared how he looked at that point. The sight of a beaten quilava scowling at the distant sight of Seafolk like he hoped it would sink into the ocean must have tweaked some knobs in passing pokemon. They all gaped at him and took a very wide berth. Some had the nerve to stop at the path’s grassy shoulders as if they’d walked all the way up the path to look at violets.

Solder couldn’t blame them. He couldn’t blame himself for hoping they got an allergic reaction, either.

At least Larcen is here, became an increasingly common thought—if only because Larcen still smiled and waved to everybody like nothing was wrong and every once in a while some hell dog or walking plant would pause. Then Solder could watch the confusion hit in real time. Should they be nervous or welcomed? What did that buizel do to him? Most of them just stopped and let the duo pass, but the idea that they had to rationalise this somehow became a welcome distraction from Solder’s headache.

Until, of course, they padded onto the stone pathways of Seafolk’s slopes and everybody was too busy to be confused, scattering across the streets as the noon sun hung directly overhead. Then they’d have to find the fisherman’s house. Looking out over the stacked wooden buildings, some sections were so dense they seemed like termite mounds, each window a little hole into someone’s life. Solder felt a sinking feeling in his gut imagining going to every door until they found the right one.

Luckily, Larcen had an address. 1042 Argot street. By the bay, apparently, which made Solder frown—memories of slippery boards and the smell of sea rot making him shiver, the taste of salt lingering on his tongue. At least they knew where to go. He shook it off, forcing a tired smile at Larcen’s worried frown.

That didn’t last long. Solder quickly discovered that the street numbers weren’t always easy to get to. Some plaques were scratched up or unscrewed or otherwise in the wrong order. They carried on into the buildings, too. The duo wandered through the mazelike hallways that meandered around the bay’s towering homes and spat them out in a confused blur, often to a different street.

It must’ve taken hours. Solder kept track by the sun, watched it slowly crawl down the horizon until it slipped behind the mountains—like it knew he didn’t want to know. Like it knew he was too weak to not check. Even Larcen’s energy died. He stopped talking, his tails stopped spinning. Whatever good will he garnered evaporated as every pokemon they passed in the halls and on the docks took very conspicuous steps out of their way.

But they found it. Eventually. Infuriatingly enough, at the very end of the street, nestled in the corner between the docks and the mountains. A quiet little niche laying on slabs of rock. A shallow, underwater beach trailed off the end of the dock and reached the pier via a set of stairs carved into the slate. It was a relaxing little place hiding under the shade of the mountain and Solder imagined it must be nice at low tide, when he could actually walk on the beach.

It managed to get a quieting collective sigh, at least.

Larcen knocked on the door and waited for Solder to stroll up beside him.

“This is why we don’t do a lot of small missions,” he mumbled. He tried to muster up some enthusiasm, but could only give a tired nod.

Solder didn’t answer. He slumped on the doorstep and rubbed his eyes. A moment of darkness convinced him he could go to sleep—his headache had other ideas.

A couple moments, a mumbled shout from inside and heavy footsteps. Then the door flew open, nearly scraping Larcen’s button nose. His whiskers twitched, but he smiled at the doorway like he hadn’t almost been assaulted.

A giant… amphibian… stood in the doorway, he hulked over them, upper body all thick blue muscle, leading to a flat head, a fan of orange-gilled cheeks, and two sharp, discerning eyes. The set of fins crowning his head knocked him up easily twice their height and made him seem like a king. It didn’t help how he squinted at them. Or rolled his shoulders like he’d expected trouble.

“Waddya lookin’ for?” He said, voice a wet growl.

He must’ve crawled straight from the ocean. Solder’s exhaustion curbed his flinch, but as the giant’s gaze wandered over to him, his head snapped to look straight ahead.

“We’re here for your ah… posting?” Larcen responded, “about the feathers?”

“Took ya long enough.” The creature huffed, then stepped aside. Larcen took the invitation with a grateful smile, but as Solder got to his feet to follow, he found the blue mass had shifted back into the doorway.

“Not you, firestarter. You wait out here.”

Solder blinked. He’d been busy looking at the ground, but he chanced a second glance at the giant’s face.

He wished he hadn’t. There was a chilling scrutiny there. A narrow-eyed glare and set frown that kept too long. Solder didn’t like the challenge in it.

“Whatever,” he said, sighing, turning and slumping back against the wall.

The giant followed him all the way, waiting nearly a minute after Solder sat down as if the quilava would leap back up when given the chance. Then he nodded and turned around.

But not if Larcen had anything to say about it.

“Seriously?” he asked, “just let him in. You gotta problem?”

“I’ve got things to worry about in there. Now, ya got ‘nough feathers?”

Larcen clutched his overstuffed bag to his side. He frowned.

“C’mon! He’s harmless, you’re seriously gonna do this?”

“You want ta get paid?”

Solder felt exhaustion wash over him as they bickered. All he wanted was to be done, but here Larcen was more interested in pride or whatever. He felt his nerves fraying like they were being strung across a knife.

“But…” Larcen continued.

“Stop!” Solder snapped, digging his claws into the wood doorstep, “shut up! Just go in, I don’t care if I come or not!” He turned to Larcen. The buizel had the gall to look hurt, shoulders falling in defeat.

So the giant grumbled something under his breath, and moved aside, and ushered Larcen in. He left Solder with a hurt look and they disappeared beyond the doorway, two steps of footsteps, one soft, one heavy.

Solder breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned back against the cool stone wall of the house and closed his eyes. Breathed in and out. In and out. The heat didn’t clear. It swarmed in his body, little metal slivers rattling around his skull, melting through his insides. Some of it escaped, sparking from his back and against the wall. It helped. Barely.

He tensed, opened his eyes and tried not to bite his tongue.

Maybe he had anger issues. He still wouldn’t entertain the idea of fighting, but that left him stuck. Thoughts kept cropping back up even as he culled them. Eventually, he had to open his eyes and focus on the distance, watching waves crash against the ribs of ships. If only to take his mind off himself, off his brother’s letter. He almost wished he hadn’t read it.

Then he heard Larcen’s telltale steps as the buizel came back through the door. He turned. Larcen’s bag was empty, a refreshed smile graced his muzzle.

And there was something new tucked in the crook of his arm.

“Ready to bounce? Maybe we can swing by a cafe or something? I dunno,” Larcen said, shrugging. “He’s just gonna get our pay and we’ll be on our way. Good rhyme, huh?”

But Solder couldn’t take his eyes off the thing in Larcen’s other arm. It looked like a… vase? Maybe? It was a stout little blue thing with wobbly handles and a choked neck, molded like something from a kids pottery class.

“What’s that?” Solder asked.

“Oh, this?” Larcen held up the vase like he was only just seeing it. Quickly, nervously, Larcen tucked it into his now-empty bag. Solder simmered, already seeing where this was going. “That’s nothin’, I just picked—”

“Put it back.”

There was a pause. A moment where Larcen tripped over his words enough that waves filled the silence as they slapped gently against the pier wall. Larcen’s whiskers drooped, but his eyes turned sharp.

“Didn’t you say partners enact petty vengeance? What happened to that, huh?”

Solder tried to wrap his mind around that as he scrutinised Solder’s bag, desperately trying to find the logic in there, somewhere.

“Are you kidding? This is your client! Not your lazy guildmate! I didn’t want you to do this!” he sniped, jabbing a paw at Larcen, “I don’t want to get caught up in your shit!”

“Maybe I just wanna keep it? Not like you cared about stealing earlier.”

“Guess it wasn’t for me then, huh?” Solder said, revelling in the awkward shift it got from Larcen. “Not like I ever told you to steal, either. I told you I’m not making this my problem.”

Larcen held himself, clutching the bag to his chest and letting his tails curl around his feet. He looked out to the sea, a faint sparkle in his eyes reflecting the light on the waves. Solder could feel the way Larcen’s chest rose from across the doorstep. And by the gods, Solder could feel the offence pouring from him. He looked posed. He looked like he was waiting for someone to come up beside him and throw an arm over his shoulders.

And Solder hated it. Anger choked him, caught his tongue at the back of his throat. To him, Larcen looked like a whimpering animal, waiting to be put down.

Little bastard.

“I don’t want this to be your problem. All those questions were getting annoying. I’m not telling you. Stop asking,” Larcen said.

“Stop doing it!” Solder got to his feet, forced himself at Larcen—glared down his muzzle. “Are you stupid? You’re not subtle, you keep pushing like this is some stupid game! I don’t care about your life, but you don’t either, apparently!”

That was enough, Solder knew. Larcen shifted uncomfortably in his own fur. But then he looked at Solder with this alien expression, wide-eyed and new. Solder growled.

“There’s some fucking bolt loose in your head, Larcen.”

Larcen turned. Hugged harder. Couldn’t look Solder in the eyes anymore.

“I’m going back to the guild,” he said, a weak quiver in his voice. A pause. A heave of the shoulders. Then, he padded slowly down the stairs, across the dock, and wandered all the way along the street, shrinking into the distant crowd until he was just an impression of orange. Solder watched the whole way, heart pounding in his ears.

It didn’t make the fire go away.

“You, there.”

The giant had returned while Solder was distracted, lurking over him with narrowed eyes. Solder didn’t get a chance to respond before he continued.

“Knew ya were up ta somethin’. You were in there when I was with yer friend.”

“What are you talking about?” Solder snapped, barely in control enough to not raise his voice to the giant in front of him.

“That was my daughter’s,” he grumbled in return, “I don’t like thieves.”

It took a second for the implication to slot into place.

“Does it look like I stole anything?”

Solder could tell a ‘yes’ was waiting to escape from the giant’s mouth. Yet a moment of scrutiny must have revealed Solder was empty handed, because he lifted his head to track the street.

But Larcen had left and the giant must have realised he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

They stood beside each other for a while, neither willing to move, Solder wishing the other would just give up, hand over their money, and go inside already. Eventually, the giant turned.He held up a giant blue hand, revealing a little leather purse. He shook it, letting it bounce in his palm with a metallic jingle.

“Forgot to pay ya.”

Solder blinked, relaxing slightly. He stood up and took a step forward, holding out a cautious paw.

In a slight motion, with barely more effort than he’d take to swipe dirt off his arm, the giant slung the purse underhand, sending it sailing across the dock, slapping against the stone lip of the pier and tumbling into the water with a faint splash.

“Fetch,” he said. Then, without any theatrics, he turned and went back inside.

Solder stood for a very long while. Stood and stared at the spot their money fell over the edge. He worked his jaw, waiting for a scream to come out. Tried to pick out something loose on the pier to smash against the rocks. He clenched his fists. Dug too deep. Felt his claws jut out and cut into flesh.

Of course.

He padded to the edge of the dock in complete silence, drawn by the waves. He got on all fours to peer over the edge. His reflection looked back, grim and scruffy, fur matted by the spray of saltwater from the ocean; it scowled when he scowled and only disappeared when he spat at it, flooding it with ripples.

A quick scan revealed that the purse landed gently in the sandbar, a foot underwater and just a hop down into the beach. No problem. Solder was pretty adverse to water since he’d woken up—mostly it chilled him, made him slow—but a minute in the shallow end of the ocean seemed like no big deal.

He reassured himself by glancing at the stone stairway a little to his left.

With no greater thought, Solder slid off the side until his feet dangled inches above the surface of the water, then dropped into it. His lower half dunked underwater with a splash and an all-encompassing chill. He gasped—fully, involuntarily—as a shot went up his spine and rained violent shivers down his body.

He took sluggish steps forward, trudging through sand and water. By the time he reached the purse, only a couple steps, a numbness started, tiny needles forcing themselves through his legs. He lurched. He ground his teeth, dreading having to reach into the water.

But he had to.

He tried to be quick about it, just reach in and get out, but the cold seized his legs and pitched him forward. He caught himself on all fours and the water soaked into his arms. It splashed over his shoulders, slapped against his chest. Even as he forced himself back up, it clung to him. He clawed at it almost involuntarily. The shivering turned violent.

Whether he had grabbed the purse didn’t matter anymore; Instinct shouted over everything.

But he’d lost all feeling in his legs. Even a shot of hot panic and the pained sputtering of sparks along his spine didn’t help. He begged to walk, to move. Instead, he tilted backwards. Felt the harsh crack of stone against the back of his skull. Darkness shot through his peripheral. There was a voice, a shout or something, but he couldn’t hear over the roar of his heartbeat. He started sliding down the rocks, tried to force his spine straight back to wedge himself against the wall, but it did nothing. And nothing could stop the aching cold.

The water covered his chest, his neck. He tried to call out, but water flooded into his maw, choking him in salt. Liquid ice poured down his throat.

It swallowed him.

~(0)~

Solder didn’t die, though it felt like he had. In reality, he woke up on a couch back in the guild, squinting at the ceiling, a blue cat’s face staring down at him with a condescending frown.

“If you wanted to attempt suicide, I might’ve recommended a locale with less civilians around to save you,” Landy said, button nose twitching.

But Solder could barely think. Between his eyes, squinted from the stinging light inside, and his ears funnelling every word into his skull like marbles pouring into a glass jar, he flooded. His headache dimmed as he came to his senses, but he still felt the aching cold—even beneath the thick blanket smothering him. He shivered, and it must have looked like a nod, because Landy continued.

“It used to be that I’d recommend a session or two with me, but I imagine there’d be some sort of friction between coworkers that would exacerbate the problem.” He waved his paw in dismissal. “Oh, well. I presume you’re not dying?”

Solder nodded absentmindedly, brain still catching up to Landy’s words.

“Someone let you be a therapist?”

To his unbelievable credit, Landy did little more than deepen his flat stare.

“Of a sort. It’s not as if suicide is a popular recommendation of mine.” A glow spilled from Landy’s eyes. Solder felt a renewed warmth surround him for a moment, then it vanished. “Although, in your case, you’d be a credit to your species. You thought you could go for a swim? Really?”

Solder felt his headache returning. Oh, he was sick of this cat already.

“I wasn’t planning to drown.”

“I figured. Compromise is our friend here, however. Simply commit to not reproducing and it’ll have the same effect.”

“I’m not committing to anything.”

“Exactly.” Landy shot back, voice a wasteland of humour. “In any case, as enjoyable as it’s been, I’d rather not talk to you anymore. You should rest, but I’m not particularly concerned about your health, so feel free not to.”

Without waiting for a response, Landy turned, picked up a little shoulder bag he had at his feet and wandered off. Solder sat up on his couch with a groan, blanket pooling around his waist. Then he’d spotted Larcen sitting on the couch across from him.

The buizel sat by himself, tails pulled into his lap, combing through them with the care he’d give to a newborn. He was a picture of serenity, really. Someone who’d had a long time to come to terms with something.

Or maybe Solder was struck by melodrama. He stared a while, straight faced. There had to be a good way to approach this, but the motions were lost between his chills and growing discomfort.

“Hey,” he settled on. With a rough cough for good measure.

Larcen glanced up and graced him with a slight smile. Soft, but not comforting.

Solder considered the distance between them. He watched the lines draw themselves into Larcen’s face. Nobody said anything for a while, the silence filled by them reading each other—Solder wryly reminded himself that other pokemon were the only thing he could read at all. And he wasn’t even good at that.

“Should I apologise?” he asked.

What a stupid thing to say.

Larcen raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips.

“I should’ve shut my mouth; I shouldn’t have asked,” Solder amended, before Larcen could give a response, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s what you think the problem is? You asked?” Larcen said.

Solder couldn’t hear the intent in his words; Larcen seemed so calm. He hesitated, reconsidered himself.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Once again the eyebrows raised. Once again Solder tried to keep his face straight, holding Larcen’s attention. If it broke, Solder wouldn’t be able to meet his eyes again. Larcen sighed.

“That’s right,” he said, “I don’t. And you don’t get to judge me if you know nothing’.” He sat up, shuffled off his couch. A brief pause made it seem like he’d leave, squeeze out of their little cluster and vanish into the guild. But he didn’t. Instead, he padded over to Solder’s couch—nestled into the nook between Solder’s feet and the armrest. Solder clutched his blanket to his chest. There was a feeling there, one in the bags under a father’s eyes, one where he’d come into the room to check under their kid’s bed—that brief moment before he reveals what’s been hiding under there all along.

Larcen took a second to compose himself.

“I’ve got… impulse issues. I guess,” he said, one paw toying with his whiskers, “Did I tell you how long I’ve been at the guild? Like, fifteen years. My dad thought being out in the mountains would help.”

“What a help that was.”

A cough. A sharp look. Solder bit his tongue, tasted iron and clutched his blanket to his neck until it dug into his fur.

Stupid. He’s such an idiot.

“Sorry. Fuck, I— Why is it so hard to be sincere?”

He’s not used to this; that’s what he told himself. Every interaction with Larcen had been jokey or ironic or… well, every positive interaction. Now, a fog enveloped him. He’d latched onto the first words he saw swim into focus.

“I’ll shut up. I won’t say anything,” Solder mumbled. Larcen rubbed his face with both paws. He snickered.

“Calm down, kid. You’re trying too hard,” he said. Still, Solder kept his lips shut. “Anyway, you’re kinda right. Helped at first, but I never really got better. Dad always thought I just wasn’t tryin’ hard enough.”

“You think it’s kleptomania?”

“What? Dunno what that is.”

Solder tried to think of a way to explain Larcen’s own problem back at him. In the end, he decided he had nothing useful to say.

“I guess I don’t know, either.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

So they just sat in their insecurity, Solder certainly not comfortable enough to continue. The blanket started to feel like it was cooking him, but he never drew it below his chin.

“So… are we cool?” Solder said. He sounded like a child, he felt his skin burn under his fur and anxiously avoided Larcen’s gaze as the buizel’s smile grew.

“Eh, we were both frustrated. Sooo… I dunno. Maybe if you give me a real nice smile.” Larcen demonstrated, drawing his paws across his mouth and giving Solder a faceful of teeth.

Solder’s caution evaporated; his face hardened.

“No. you’re not serious.”

“Guess we can’t be friends, then. Sucks.”

All of a sudden they were back. Larcen slipped into goofiness easily, Solder let his blanket drop and felt a familiar dry irritation well up. It’s interesting how quickly he slipped back into pace, but it felt good. Familiar. Now, if only Larcen wasn’t asking the impossible. But, fine. Solder could sit in bed like a rock until Larcen got bored and stopped teasing him, but he had a feeling Larcen didn’t have much else going on.

So Solder sighed a little too deeply, tilted his head back and gave an honest smile.

“Ha!” Larcen cheered, “got another one! I should be keeping score! Two for me, zero for you.”

“Whatever. We’re good, then? Can I get some sleep?”

“Yeah, we’re good. But next time you hurt me, I’m gonna blast you.”

Solder shivered, the lingering sensation of water rushing over him still fresh in his mind.

“Fine.”

He settled back down, slumping into the lumpy fabric of his bed, watching a broken beige thread escape its seam. He turned over Larcen’s words and watched the bugs crawl out from beneath them.

Next time. He hated that pair, what it implied. But he couldn’t turn himself back to face Larcen. It should’ve been so easy just to say he wouldn’t lash out again. Say sorry again, there will be no next time. Say something. Anything.

It’s not like he liked being angry. But he had no better advice, and kept himself up trying to gather enough courage like he gathered little balls of blanket fleece in his paws.

All this just to turn around.

By the time he did—minutes, hours, might as well be years later, Larcen had fallen asleep.

Solder spent half the night watching his chest rise and fall against the arm of the couch.