Chapter Nine: Rainstorm

Routine was good in Larcen’s book. Kinda boring, but hey, not everything had to be a battle—though that would make life more exciting. The mornings where he could follow a script and not think about it at all were, unfortunately, the best ones. The ones he functioned best.

It rained the day after team weasels’ excursion with Landy. The meowstic had holed himself in the basement, with the cells and his feral. He’d thrown all the junk from down there back up into the lobby, but Larcen didn’t feel much like complaining. Sometimes he wanted to check on the feral, but then the smell of cooking flesh—appetising for the moment before he remembered the origin—would creep through invisible cracks in the floor and he’d back off. Solder hadn’t been in a great place since coming back, either. He struggled to speak normally. And had a weird fixation on the basement door, watching it from across the room, from his bed as he fell asleep, paws still clutched around his muzzle. Today, he sat in the shade of the guild’s entrance, watching rain splatter mud against stone.

Larcen let him. He ached for the quilava, but had no clue what to do or where to go. Nothing to give him but pats on the back and empty words. So like always when he had too many thoughts, he went through his morning routine and let it sit.

Easy enough to make his bed. Especially when that bed is a couch. Easier still to comb his fur so long as he didn’t ever look in the mirror and disappoint himself. Then he got himself breakfast, practically force feeding Solder as the quilava sat in his little funk. He started taking stock of his bag just as the radio perched in the larder’s little stone window hissed and spat out Bastaya’s airy voice.

“~gooood morning, Seafolk! As you might have noticed, rainy season has come to kick us in the ass once again, and boy is she starting out with a flood! And it’s not just literal, baby! With time draining away until the big guilds come, Seafolk’s not showing much initiative. Shame, shame—”

Larcen sighed, tuning out the radio as Bastaya droned on about guild drama. He’d never understand what the whimsicott got out of being so negative about them. Best to just ignore it.

Everything was in order, at least. Leaving him to just… sit. He hummed a little tune, drumming his paws on his lap as he lounged. His tails twirled off the edge, kicking up a stack of papers haphazardly perched on a fishing crate and sending them floating to the floor. He watched with a small smile—those things had a life of their own sometimes.

A crack of thunder sounded from outside, echoing through the hall.

That smile dropped. He wouldn’t be getting anything done today, would he?

Normally he’d welcome the excuse, but the approaching guilds left him anxious. Just sitting inside, lazing around, felt wrong.

And then there was Solder. Larcen watched him from the safety of his couch’s backrest. He hadn’t moved for almost an hour, just… watching the rain. Still as the fishermen perched on the docks. Those nutjobs would probably be out in the storm, too.

Larcen wasn’t sure what to do with him. Best he could do was talk to him. But whatever Larcen had didn’t seem to be enough. Just like with his father.

He felt something sick crawl into his throat.

No, he wouldn’t think about that. Not like he was stupid, he— he knew there was maybe a little more to why he stuck by Solder so fiercely. Some drunk, rambling, floatzel-shaped hole in his life. But admitting that would be confirming that yes, he was broken and clingy, just like dad always whispered in his mother’s ear when he thought Larcen wasn’t listening. It wasn’t true. He didn’t believe it, so it couldn’t be.

He just liked Solder for his happy disposition.

He snorted to himself. Then sighed when he remembered he hadn’t said it out loud and noone was there to laugh.

Really, he liked the quilava. He was outspoken and approachable and, yeah, a little stubborn. A little grumpy. But that just meant he had spine. Sometimes Larcen would be left alone in a room with Haxorus or his siblings—as much as he loved them—and just slip into yawning boredom from how safe and agreeable every conversation became.

Still, despite Solder’s uh… honesty—patience not lasting beyond a quip—that quilava had no clue how to express himself. Larcen was used to his father’s outbursts, pokemon like his mother who tried to look strong by turning him in circles with their elaborate word games. Solder was the only pokemon he knew that genuinely seemed to have no idea what he was feeling or how to express that.

Mostly, he seemed sad. But he needed to look strong so he got angry.

At least that was Larcen’s take on it as he watched the quilava look back at him, the sharp glare cut into his features softening a bit before he turned back to the rain.

Maybe that was the amnesia’s fault.

Sometimes Larcen wished he could forget.

The thought came unprompted. His tails stilled below him.

Yes, Larcen liked his morning routine. The worst part of every day wasn’t so much waking up, but the transition. That moment where he still curled up, cocooned into his little nook on the couch, mind empty and waiting for him to break out.

Every morning he felt sick and tired and new. Remembering everything again—how his life got to this point—felt like reliving it. And every time he traced his steps back, he felt giddy thinking something might change. But they were just memories. He became the same pokemon every morning.

Forgetting was an old thought, though. And if it left him like Solder, then ehh… maybe not.

Actually, what was he doing now?

Solder just walked outside into the rain.

At first Larcen watched on because, well, that’s insane. It must be some other idiot quilava skipping merrily into the worst deluge this year.

But there were no other quilava. Larcen sat up, gaping at the empty doorway. A sharp stab of light flashed from outside, harsh lightning reflecting through the wet spots on the tunnel.

He— he what?!

Larcen scrambled. First, through a pile of scrap fabrics for something, anything to cover Solder —settling on some old throw rug, red threads knotted and thin. Then, to the doorway, rug dragged behind him, shouting in alarm even knowing the sound of rain would drown him out.

A wall of water met him at the entrance, the thundering sound of it spraying against the rocky cliffs enough to drown out Larcen’s thoughts. Wind whipped the rain back and forth, sending occasional sprays stinging into his eyes. He only got feeble protection trying to hold the rug between him and the weather.

With a tired grumble he stepped out. The instant he did, he was drenched. Cold and so soaking wet it was hard to believe he would ever dry off. As he staggered out, his fur whipped in the wind and every call for Solder was an invitation for water to fill his mouth.

Luckily, he didn’t have to search very far. He spotted a brief flash of sputtering flames, Solder’s telltale teal fur splashed against the greying wooden gatehouse.

He’d collapsed in the sopping grass, wearing a healthy coat of mud and grass already despite only being out a couple minutes. He pressed himself against the wall, under the slight awning from the roof. Hoping it would block some rain, maybe, but the flood created a stream that ran right under him, so…

First things first, Larcen tossed his rug over the shivering quilava. He yelped, but clutched onto it tightly the moment his paws brushed against it.

Larcen crouched beside him, looking into his eyes. They were wild, reflecting flashes of lightning from the storm.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Larcen shouted over the rain. “Go inside, you idiot!”

Solder shook his head, glare unrelenting, hiding deeper under the rug. It didn’t do much. In hindsight, maybe Larcen should’ve picked up something that didn’t soak up all the water.

Larcen tried. He really did. He sat with Solder, going over every rational thought he had—and several dozen irrational ones. He tried dragging Solder back by the leg, but that earned him a swift kick in the chin.

He could only watch with a pitying frown. Watch as the shivering grew more violent, delirium taking Solder’s faint attempts at speech. He wouldn’t die, according to what he heard from Landy after the drowning incident, but this couldn’t be healthy. Not to mention whatever mental breakdown led to this.

So, great. Another episode. At least Larcen wasn’t being belittled this time. He shook his head, the streams of water pouring around his eyes and muzzle flinging everywhere.

No. Solder was not his father. He just… needed to find a long rope. A sled—something to drag the big baby inside so he didn’t get sick.

But just as he turned and passed the gatehouse door, it flung open beside him. He couldn’t react before an invisible force latched onto his arm, yelping as it dragged him inside and threw him to the floor. Lying there, groaning in a slowly growing puddle, a flowing white something filled his vision and he briefly wondered when Veille got silk curtains. Wiping the rain from his eyes revealed it to just be Auloin. She stared down at him with a stern frown.

“I can’t understand what would compel you to be out in this weather, Larcen.” She placed her hands on her hips, looming over him like a disappointed mother. “Honestly, you’d be shocked by how many pokemon are struck by lightning each year. Not to mention the other risks. You can stay here until it blows over.”

Without the constant sound of rain pounding at his skull, Larcen had to take a moment to focus.

“It’s Solder, he’s— I dunno, something’s gone weird with him. He’s collapsed just outside and won’t come in.”

Auloin raised a brow, looking to the door.

“I should fetch him, then.” Her psychic flared once again, a faint glow caressing the door, cracking it open wider.

Larcen flinched as he saw it.

“Could you… ah, not grab him with psychic? Probably won’t react well to it.”

“I see. Was it Landy?”

“Got it in one.”

“Alright. Just give me a moment.”

She slid through the doorway, consumed by the rain. Larcen watched the empty space, taking the pause to comb the water through his fur. He swore he heard a commotion—some sort of scuffle under the rain—but in record time Auloin reappeared inside, door closing by itself.

It took a moment for Larcen to realise the lump struggling under one of her arms was Solder. He couldn’t help snickering, the quilava held like a soaked pillow.

Solder grumbled dully as Auloin deposited him at the end of the room, in front of the fire. Must have been hot, because the moment Solder’s belly hit the stone nook housing the furnace, he sizzled, steam wafting around him. It… didn’t sound comfortable, but the way he cuddled into the hot stones refuted that. So even if Larcen grimaced and the phantom smell of cooked flesh once again forced itself into his nose, he’d let the quilava lie.

Larcen crept up to the fire, taking tentative steps until the heat started to make his eyes water. He sat himself there, right in the middle of the floor. He would’ve taken the bed—even soaking wet—but he’d just noticed Veille splayed across it.

It’s the first time he’d ever seen her sleeping in a bed, actually. Weird.

Auloin dragged a chair up beside him, perching on it as if to keep watch over Veille. She had no papers, no clipboard. She seemed content to sit in the fire’s aura and let the muffled beating of the rain speak for her. Larcen took her example. Anxiously, maybe, with his trying to comb the knots out of his tail, picking individual flecks  of mud out of his fur as they dried.

He watched the fire, too. The furnace looked like a weird imp in the corner, a big grate-toothed frown on its face and four chunky black legs keeping it up. The fire within it roared in anger, but it couldn’t do much with a big chimney staking it through the roof and into the floor. Larcen leaned back on his paws and stuck his tongue out at it. For no particular reason.

“Landy said anything to you yet?” he asked as he waited for the furnace’s imaginary response.

“No. He doesn’t make much of effort to talk to me. Or anyone, I suppose. Is there something I should know?”

Larcen silently weighed whether he should tell her about her new teammate. Looking around the room made him realize it would probably ruin the mood.

“Nah. Nevermind. Supposed to be his job to tell you.”

They returned to silence. For Larcen, the itch to do something came back. By the time he was dry, it seemed like he’d organized each individual strand of fur into perfect lines on his tails and a little pile of dirt had been swept between his legs. He glared jealously at Solder, who seemed supremely comfortable on his hotbed, eyes closed and mumbling gibberish to himself.

“Would you like to talk?” Auloin said after a while. She eyed his little pile, then eyed him. “You seem anxious.”

“Nah.” He waved her off. “I’m just sittin’ here and sittin’ here, plus I got a lot of sittin’ here to do.” He gave her a smile, drawing a little circle in his mound of dirt.

She didn’t take the bait. She just… stared.

Truly, he had no way to combat that.

“Okay, fine. We’ll do therapy.”

“I don’t intend to become your therapist, I’m hardly qualified. Truthfully, I’m bored as well. Normally, I’d meditate but Veille is the only one I’m comfortable enough with to do so alone.”

“Eh, sorry for stopping you.”

“I’d still rather be working. You certainly aren’t responsible for the rain.”

And as if it heard her, a crack of thunder answered from outside.

Auloin shrugged. These things can’t be helped, it said. Larcen bit his cheek, watching Solder roll over onto his back and stare at the ceiling.

“I dunno where to start. Never like talking about myself that much.”

“How about Landy? You said he’d done something to Solder?”

Oh, That was something he could complain about all day. And complain he did, taking no time to launch into a story.

Auloin had this calming aura about her. She didn’t even have to do anything, just sit on her chair, listening. Come through every once in a while with a simple question, a nod, a frown. That’s all, but it got Larcen talking about things he maybe shouldn’t. Maybe that was a gardevoir thing; their whole deal had something to do with empathy, he thought.

He started by tiptoeing around the previous dungeon trip, expanding until he started recounting his entire day with Solder, Landy’s whole mess, every possible thing that went wrong from the very start of the day. He hardly realised he’d started flailing his arms around, all his energy caught up to him. Then he got to Solder.

“–and he says no! Gets every chance to bounce out of the fuckin’ dungeon—even Landy doesn’t want him anymore—and he says no! I just— he’s so stubborn at the worst possible times. Barely even know what he wants to do half the time and the worst thing is I don’t think he does, either.” Larcen slumped, out of breath after talking for what must have been an hour. He coughed, throat dry.

“Sounds a bit like your father, yes?”

“Yes!” Larcen threw up his paws. Finally, someone else got it.

Wait. He froze, casting a furtive glance at Solder. His ears flicked, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Good.

“That’s messed up! I can’t say stuff like that!” He hissed.

“Why not? You were clearly thinking about it, what’s the harm of speaking it out loud?”

“I already told him about my dad; don’t want him thinking he’s some kinda drunk slob.”

“Do you think Solder would take poorly to alcohol?”

“Yeah, I—” Larcen caught himself, glaring at Auloin who hadn’t lost that serene smile illuminated by the warm light of the furnace. “Why’re we talking about this? Rather go sit in the rain again.”

“Why shouldn’t we? Is this not comfortable for you? I find confronting these things often makes me feel much clearer. I make an effort to express what frustrates me to Veille.”

Larcen couldn’t even be sure what she was talking about. He looked to Solder, hoping he’d recover already so they could talk about something else.

“Would you mind if I said something cruel?” Auloin asked.

Larcen didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t know what she wanted, with that pleasant but enigmatic expression peeking beneath her bangs. The longer he waited to answer, biting his cheek and crossing his arms, the more curious he got.

“Go for it. Why stop now, y’know?”

She paused, tilting her head back as if uncertain. Whatever wall she faced relented. She turned to watch Solder.

“You remind me of your father, too, sometimes.”

Oh. She said she’d be cruel; she didn’t say she’d crush him.

Hearing that made him feel sick: greasy and frail and collapsing on some doorstep at midnight. He drew his knees up into his chest and braced his chin against them, waiting for the feeling to pass.

She continued.

“My mother wasn’t particularly warm, either. Once I left, I thought I’d surround myself with friends and cast her off me, but instead I found myself drawn to solitude, her cruelty blooming, too, within me. It’s odd. To grow up and look in the mirror and realise the influence our parents have had.”

Larcen extracted an arm to point at her.

“It’s not like that; I won’t let it be like that! I’m not kicking anyone away for bothering to talk to me! I’m not showing up days after I’m supposed to, raving! Who do you think I am?”

Really, it’s not like he’d ever tried not to emulate his father, besides the drinking. He’d just ended up hating a lot of the things surrounding him—the flakiness and anger. There wasn’t anything worse than learning someone else saw that in him.

“It’s not about that,” Auloin replied, no interest in defending herself. “It always struck me he didn’t welcome affection beyond his own terms.”

“Affection? That’s all I’ve got to give. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Think I’m scared of givin’ a hug?”

“Well, I think you haven’t seen your mother in a while even though she remains in the city. And your old friends—I still see them coming and going sometimes.”

Larcen withered,  biting his cheek. He debated whether to ask if she’d ever talked to them, but decided against it.

“And what becomes of Solder once you get bored of him?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Solder’s—”

“I’m leaving,” Solder mumbled from his place by the fire.

Larcen froze, at first thinking the quilava had been listening but his eyes wandered, unfocused, blinking slowly. He stretched, humming something and closing his eyes again. It looked like he’d fallen asleep, but he came back a second later.

“He okay?” Larcen asked, putting his discomfort aside for the moment.

Auloin hummed something, getting up from her chair and crouching by him. She waved a hand in front of him, lifted his eyelids with barely a response. She felt his forehead with the back of her hand.

“Fever, it seems. His body temperature dropped enough it’s trying to overcorrect. He’s delirious, but should be fine; for the moment, let me get him something to drink..”

She stood again, wandering off.

“You’re blurry,” Solder mumbled. He looked like a discarded puppet, with his head awkwardly twisted to face Larcen. “Who are you? You look like Larcen.”

“There’s a… good reason for that,” Larcen responded.

Solder paused. Gave one slow blink.

“You’re his brother?”

Larcen snorted. He looked nothing like his brother.

“Sure, kid.”

“He calls me that sometimes,” Solder snickered. “Don’t tell him I’m leaving, okay?”

“Where to?”

“My brother’s going to pick me up. Then… I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Larcen rolled his eyes, scooting closer so Solder didn’t have to crane his neck so much. He did anyways, still staring off in an ashy corner of the roof, somewhere between wooden rafters.

“Bet Larcen already knows.”

“He doesn’t know know. I already made him cry, I don’t want to do it again.”

Solder smiled. It seemed so odd on his face—as much as Larcen wanted him to smile more, this seemed lazy, drawn on as some rictus grin. The buizel frowned in response, lifting his chin off his knees. He felt the sudden urge to stand up, to tower above Solder and force some sort of recognition. He doubted that would work.

Mostly, Larcen didn’t want to hear these unfiltered thoughts. He itched as they escaped, looking to the door even as the rain pounded harder.

Did Solder make him cry? When did that happen? He hadn’t cried in months.

“Uuuuh… no. You cried a couple days ago, though.”

Soder’s eyes widened in genuine, childlike shock.

“No. No, I never cry. But Larcen’s like…” He stretched out  for something from his stone island, to an invisible pile out on the wood planks. “He’s like a baby bird.”

Larcen waited. It seemed like the sentence would continue, but Solder curled back into himself and mumbled something under his breath.

Really? Is that what Solder thought of him? He couldn’t pretend to be impressed, sharing a flat look with Auloin across the room. She shrugged, spooning some powder into a mug and swirling it around.  He sighed.

“Sure, kid. Why’d you go out in the rain? Can you tell me that?”

“It was so hot and I didn’t know how to cool down. I was going to hurt someone. I was going to hurt myself.”

“Well uh… don’t… do that.”

“I deserve it.”

An odd tunnel vision crept up on Larcen; he barely felt present anymore. Like midnight had passed above him waiting at the kitchen table, rolling berries across his plate with his nose and eyeing the storm outside, waiting…

Always waiting.

Another crack of thunder snapped him out of it and he found himself shaking, staring at the veil of grey out the door’s window.

He should leave.

“N-nope,”he said, voice cracking,

“I’m sorry,” Solder responded.

Any moment now, that door would open.

“Don’t— I don’t… Would you shut up already?”

“I’m—”

Solder was about to continue, staring up at Larcen like a child, but Auloin came to the rescue, sticking her mug under his nose. He crossed his eyes to see it. Then instinct took over. He drank without prompting and, without any time to catch himself, blinked slowly, tilting until he slumped to the stone, asleep.

“Just a little sleep seed to help him rest.” She smiled. It might’ve just been an attempt to save the mood.

Whatever. It only kind of worked.

“I told him to go to the guild. I liked him before—I wanted to spend time with him before I knew he was leaving,” Larcen stuttered out. It was meant to be a save, show how much he cared—that he could make friends and keep them. It was true. It was all true. But if he expected Auloin’s face to light up in acceptance, he didn’t get that.

“I believe wanting a connection and allowing oneself to be abandoned are not mutually exclusive feelings.”

“Guess I just kidnap him. Force him to stay. Then we’ll be all buddy-buddy, skipping through the meadows. Oh, look at us go, the dream team!” Larcen snorted, trying for a shaky smile or whatever was left he could salvage out of this conversation.

She shrugged.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He’d be fine outside—rain was his element, the storm his friend. He knew what Auloin would think, but that feeling like she’d stuck a finger in his brain and swirled it around drained him. He needed a good swim, to feel the current of a river take him along and deposit him into the sea. He wanted to look up through the fragments of waves and make out the domes of ships bobbing against the docks, to tug on the empty lines of fishermen and watch them struggle to reel in nothing.

“I’m leaving— I know what you’re thinkin’ and it isn’t like that, I just… I told you this wasn’t gonna be a therapy session.”

“I apologise.”

But she only looked down at Solder, hands folded serenely on her lap. She didn’t seem that apologetic.

And said nothing as Larcen threw open the door and vanished into the storm.