Comment dit-on Salandit

“Bonjour.” Von concentrated on the way his mouth moved. The rigidity of his scales no longer had the flexibility of his old human lips, yet he could form different sounds from the hisses that slithered over his tongue. The noises he made he could still shape into different words, though as he tried his best to focus on what noises he was actually making, his brain only reflected his words back at him verbatim. “Bonjour. Hello.” He closed his eyes and focused as hard as he could on the movements his tongue made. The physical differences of his pronunciation between his French and English greetings were nonexistent. “Je m’appelle Devon. But you can call me Von.”

He sighed and rolled over on the bed of beach grass. They sure have been gone a while. Left idle too long, he stood and stretched. There wasn’t much to explore in the tiny den aside from the alcove that pair hosting him used to store food. Restless and curious, Von crawled over to the indent in the earth. The rudimentary shelving held a sparse amount of dried fruits and a handful of nuts, all of which he recognized by the faint amount of light that filtered into the burrow, but what captured his curiosity was a pair of alien fruit. Von estimated they were the same size as tangerines, though their dimpled skin was a deep blue.

“Don’t tell me you’re still hungry.”

Von jumped in surprise. “Rockruff! No, not hungry, just exploring. You’d be impressed to learn I’ve explored every inch of this burrow.”

“Impressed? Maybe. What’s an inch?” Rockruff strode over to join him at the alcove. Von noticed she looked more relaxed after her talk with Ren, and her concern was once more focused on him.

Right. Human terminology will only make me stand out. “Ah, it’s a unit of measurement where I’m from.” He cast another glance around the small burrow’s interior. “Say, how large would you say the burrow is?”

“Ten strides.”

“So a stride would be…” Von turned and carefully moved away from the alcove. After a rough visual estimate of the burrow, he placed his right claw on the firm clay floor and extended his tail to touch the curved wall. “So one length would be from the wall to my claw, right?”

“Roughly, yes.” Rockruff looked almost as curious as he felt.

Just a little under a foot. That shouldn’t be hard to adapt to. Satisfied, Von relaxed his posture. He still had so many unanswered questions, but at least the company he found had been patient with him. Oh, I should try this before I forget. “Où est Ren?”

“He went to the night market to see if there was anything we could use on our journey.”

I guess English and high school level French sound the same to her. “I thought the town was dangerous.”

“Only to those who don’t know what they’re doing. Ren and I can handle ourselves.” Rockruff’s chest swelled with pride. “We’re seasoned Researchers. You don’t get to our age in the guild without knowing how to defend yourself.”

Von tapped a claw to his chin. “May I ask what age you are?” Both Ren and Kaia looked like puppies to him, given their cutesy features and proportionately large heads.

“Fifteen seasons with family, two seasons of guild work, two seasons in the Cay.” Nineteen!? Von expected no more than a quarter of that, given the lifespan of canines back home. “What’s that look for?”

Von’s shock must have shown on his face. He faltered for a moment as he tried to course correct. He didn’t anticipate anyone would appreciate being told they were defying their life expectancy. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve never talked to anyone outside of my own species before. Humans are.. were? A very insular species. Language worked different. We could barely even talk to each other.”

“I’ve heard stories,” Rockruff said as a contemplative look crossed her puppy-like features. “Each human I talk to, they make your world sound so… messy?”

Now that’s an understatement. “How many humans have you talked to?”

“Three. At least, I think they were human?”

Von’s heart sank. “So, they all became Pokemon too?”

“I suppose that would have to be the case, wouldn’t it? I keep running into humans, and yet I’ve never seen what they look like.”

That rules out any humans finding a way home. Or changing back, for that matter. “At least I’m not alone in my circumstance.”

“Right!” Rockruff beamed. Von studied her, unsure how to read her apparent excitement.

“Do any of them know how they got here, at least? Or are they all just as in the dark as I am?”

Rockruff looked around the burrow, then took a step to the side, letting more light in from the tunnel to the outside. Don’t take it literally. “You’d have to ask them.”

“I will as soon as you introduce me.” Von could feel himself growing impatient. He stifled a sigh. “I think I need some fresh air.”

---

Ren took on his Banette disguise to travel the torchlit streets of the Cay. With his appearance as a ghost, his presence went unremarked upon as the town’s traffic hovered overhead. Spirits made their haunted rounds as they followed the same paths they carved through the air every night. Ghosts formed habits and lingered on their comfortable and familiar routines when left to themselves. Through persistent observation, Ren developed a sense of when certain denizens followed their routes. He learned a long time ago that the best way to keep a low profile in the Cay is to not tread onto a ghost’s path.

The cold company of the Cay wasn’t always hostile to those of flesh and blood. Rather, the Cay was comprised of those who had nowhere else to go. It was not the fault of Litwick that they consumed souls, nor was it Ren’s fault he was raised to eat meat. The tragedy of many a ghost is that one would be unable to find alternative sources of soul energy growing on trees. Some ghosts only sustain themselves by causing fear. Some by eating pleasant dreams.

“Friend Ren?”

Ren recognized the softspoken voice. He drifted from the dirt road to the alley tucked between two quiet and empty houses. A young Shuppet lingered in the shadows of the dome buildings. “Just the ghost I’ve been looking for,” the fox said through the zippered mouth of his disguise. He joined the spirit in its secluded darkness. “Are you hungry, Mourn?”

“I am. Please.”

Ren didn’t pull away when the ghost drifted closer. The horn atop the cloth ghost hummed a soft purple, and the Zorua closed his eyes as a calm washed over him. The constant undertow of his emotions wavered, separated as if they were ripples on a pond, before they began to fade.

Resentment. Vengeance. They would regrow in time, as deeply rooted in his most painful of memories as they were. But for now, he was at peace. Ren was content to let the Shuppet feast on negativity- he knew his sparse moments of joy and hope lacked the flavor Mourn sought.

“What’s new in the market tonight?”

“Sableye is here… The Mudkips left.”

The brief flash of frustration Ren felt at the news quickly left him, funneled away for Mourn’s fuel. The Mudkip merchants were the ones he was hoping to barter with; being alive, the wares they stocked tended towards practicality. “Shame.”

“What’s wrong?”

Shuppet’s horn dimmed and Ren opened his eyes. He felt lighter, as he often did after letting Shuppet feed. “Tonight’s my last night in the Cay, at least for a while. Will you be alright without me?”

The timid ghost drew back and hesitated before it spoke. “Will you?”

Ren’s zippered grin stretched wider. “Perhaps I will simply become motivated.”

“Careful. Please.” There was pity in Mourn’s eyes.

Ren ducked below the dangling puppet and peeked out from the alley they hid in. “I always am. Has Pelliper been by tonight?”

“No.”

“Good. Want to tag along?”

Trepidatious, Mourn joined Ren as he peeked up and down the street. “Fine.” Together, the pair rejoined the flow of the night.

Stories claimed that the town grew from a grave, that when the Cay was nothing more than the church on the hill and a desolate beach, a grieving Pokemon once burned the bones of its dead on the cape and garnered the attention of every ghost that saw the smoke of the bonfire. Ren heard many renditions of the tale, and found traces of its origin in the construction of the town. The brazier that burned unfailingly every night on the cape, tended to dutifully by Marowak. The memorial pavilion built from driftwood, the ceremonial wall within covered in parchments stamped with footprint runes bearing memories of the deceased.

The only letterbox in town was built beside the pavilion. The only time Pelipper ever came to the Cay was to deliver ritual parchments to be pinned to the wall, drawn up by Pokemon hoping to help a lost loved one move on, instead of manifest as a malevolent spirit.

“It’s been half a season, hasn’t it?” Ren asked Mourn as the pair gazed upon the wooden wall. “Since you became Mourn.”

“Yes.” Despite how close the Shuppet drifted to Ren, he still sounded so quiet.

“I don’t see any new papers.”

“The Nameless don’t get parchment.”

Ren bit his tongue as he thought how to respond. True, a Pokemon had to earn a name, either through their actions or their personality. Mourn died too young for either to leave an impact in the world of the living. His identity as Mourn was granted by the spirits of the Cay, not by his parents.

In silence, Ren turned to the stand that held parchment and an inkstone. He had a letter to write.

---

Von emerged from the tunnel between the roots of the magnolia tree, and the cold sea breeze coaxed a shiver from him. After having time to let his vision adjust, the aquamarine fire that burned in the lighthouse no longer felt disorienting. He felt calmer, too, having had time to rest after his nearly fatal encounter with Litwick. From their perch on the cape, he could look over the bay to the town, and take the time to admire how its multicolored torches glimmered in reflections on the tide.

Rockruff followed Von to the coastline. She let him breathe and take in his surroundings. He climbed atop a log of driftwood and settled down, and he sucked in a lungful of air. The scent of seaweed hit a familiar tang on his tongue. It’s nice seeing someplace unspoiled by industry, at least. Von hadn’t had time to appreciate the water’s clarity when he was walking the coastline. Now that he wasn’t alone, he found himself savoring the outdoors. The starfield opened up above him, an endless expanse of color, no longer drowned out by the light pollution of human civilization.

“Not sleepy, huh?” Rockruff hopped up onto the log and settled in beside him.

“I think I managed to fit a nap in between being nibbled on by candles and sat on by a certain dog.”

“You were conscious when I found you, to be fair. Just not, you know… ‘all there.'”

“How far away is our destination? Halfhenge, right?”

“Depends on our route, and what weather we’ll face. With a clear sky, we’ll use the waterways, and be there in a couple of days. If we’re unlucky with rain, we’ll use the woods for shelter until we reach Murkmoor, and Murkmoor requires a lot of walking.”

Von looked from the town to the opposite shore of the bay, to the path he walked when he woke. How far did I walk, anyway? He wasn’t sure what soreness he felt was dealt from a long hike or from the spiritual peril he faced in the church. “I’ll manage.” He turned his attention skywards to scan for traces of clouds and look for stragglers from the day’s earlier storm. The moon hung heavy over the ocean encircled by a halo of light. A paraselene, a rare sight to Von, unused to being out late at night beneath an unblemished sky.

Quiet fell on the pair again. When Von snapped himself out of his trance, he looked back to Rockruff, who had since curled up beside him. She seemed less enraptured by the stunning sights of the night than he was. “Are Salandit not eloquent?”

“Hmm?” Rockruff lifted her head from her paws.

“Earlier, you said I was ‘eloquent for a Salandit.’ Are they not often verbose?”

Rockruff looked puzzled. “They’re often drunkenly tripping over one another. As lost and clueless as you are, Salandit, you’re the most clear-headed one of your kind I’ve spoken to.”

He appreciated her honesty. Distantly, he was able to recall through the haze of his shock-addled mind his two rescuers talking about Salandit pheromones and snacking on bugs when they first found him. “I spent most of today wondering why I became Salandit. Drunken stumbling is not a very flattering parallel to draw against my human self.”

“Then focus on the part of female Salandit attracting males from all over. Is that flattering enough?”

“I’m not sure how to respond to that,” Von said with a nervous smile. He wasn’t blind to the humor of certain aspects of his situation. “How does it work, exactly? I don’t think those Litwick attacked me because I smell nice.”

“How would I know how it works? I’m not you.”

“You just seemed to know a lot about Salandit.”

“We shared habitat with Salandit when I was growing up. That doesn’t mean I can tell one how to be stinky.”

“I just figure I should learn how to defend myself better.”

“By becoming stinky?”

“By figuring out what this new body can do. I’m poisonous, right? Can Salandit spit acid?”

“Some.”

“That’s cool! What else?”

“Uh.. Fire? They can spit fire.”

Von’s eyes widened as for a brief moment, he relived the childlike wonder that came from watching a Charmander use Ember for the first time. “I want to spit fire,” he said softly, more to himself than to Rockruff.

“Then stick with us, and learn by doing. We’ll keep you safe.”

Von believed her.

---

Von was asleep by the time Ren returned to the burrow. The black fox ducked between the roots that hid their home, and Kaia greeted him with a yawn. “Find what you were looking for?”

“Indeed.” Ren bowed his head and pulled himself free of the strap of the canvas satchel. “I heard you’re supposed to give a human clothes to make them feel more comfortable.” His paw pulled free a scarf of sunset orange from the bag.

“How much did it cost you?” There was worry in Kaia’s voice. She stepped closer to study Ren’s face.

“I just had to feed Haunter a dream, is all.” Even in the darkness of the burrow, Kaia could see the weariness on Ren’s features. “It wasn’t that bad. Mourn was with me.”

Kaia whined softly and brushed her cheek to his. “Curl up with me, Ren. The sooner tomorrow comes, the sooner we leave, the better.”

Ren’s tired smile did little to reassure her. “Returning to the guild isn’t scary to you, is it? There’s no guarantee they’ll let us back in.”

“Losing you scares me more. This better be the last time you barter your dreams away.”

“Dreamers can make more dreams, and neither of us are strangers to sharing them.”

“It frustrates me how you can phrase something so morbid as something beautiful.”

“I’m a Zorua, dear.”

“You’re also a fool. Now come to bed.”

The pair snuggled up on the unoccupied bed of beach grass. Out of the corner of his eye, Ren watched Von shift and twitch in his sleep until it came for him as well, and when he drifted off, he dreamed of Candle Cay once more.