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bopbay2025-05-10 10:00 am
bayhelpers) wrote in bopbay2025-05-10 10:00 am
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003 ⟡ MAY TEST DRIVE
⋆✩ test drive 03 ✩⋆
The day begins like any other.
Routines, eventful scenes, and boring errands — no matter what you were in the middle of, there's a moment where everything begins to feel wrong. A searing pain tears through your body, so intense that it feels like every nerve has been struck at once. Muscles spasm, joints scream in protest, and as you double over, you find yourself clawing or clinging at anything within your reach. As your attempts to maintain composure fail you, your bones begin to twist with an agonizing force, the pain rising in a crescendo until it becomes unbearable to even breathe. Then, as quickly as it began, everything stops.
For a single, terrifying moment, there's nothing. No sight, no sound, no touch, no taste, no smell — just the weight of nothingness swallowing you whole. The absence of sensation might even be worse than the pain, leaving you adrift in a void you can't escape. Hopelessness threatens every fiber of your existence, and try as you might to fight it, your darkest thoughts begin to surface, flooding your mind in an onslaught of suffocating feelings and ideas.
In the darkness, you hear a voice.
It's faint, a gentle flashing of something warm along the edges of your mind, like sunlight itself. It's a voice, but you can't identify who or what it comes from, how it sounds, or what it means — still, you know it's directed at you. Something tugs at your heart, a powerful ache that throbs once and ripples outwards. You can feel the aches again, like fresh sores throughout your body. You feel off, like something isn't quite right, like you're not where you should be, or who you should be. But the voice continues, whispered just beyond your understanding. The sound is warm like hope, and it wraps around you, distant yet intent, before you wake up.
i. arrivals
FROM TUNNELS DEEP
The scent of must meets your nostrils, perhaps more strongly than it normally would. To open your eyes is to meet the dark — though if you're fortunate it could be that something about this new body, or perhaps the body of another, leaves some faint illumination to see by. Either way it soon becomes clear that where you are is somewhere underground. They are deep and sprawling tunnels, with corners of some unknown civilization storied away in their many carvings and ruined pottery. Portions of the cavern walls even bear the appearance of old structures and dwellings, as if the earth itself swallowed a city whole.
Trickling through the tunnels in quiet streams are tendrils of fog. It's difficult to see, but not in the least hard to feel. The mist is damp and cloying, clinging to every inch it finds on you to the point that it seems to grasp at the very soul; and the longer one lets it have its way, the worst it feels. You begin to question your body. Your mind. Your very memories — are they really yours?
Staying underground may be unwise anyway. Diglett and Dugtrio soon make themselves known to the weary arrivals here, and unlike these newcomers they have had far too long to succumb to the mist. They will attack without hesitation, and the only options are to fight or flee above ground.
The forest above unfortunately is not much better. The fog here is thick, even if some light somehow makes its way through the canopy above. What could have once been helpful landmarks become sources of dizzying misunderstanding, and the gnarled trees seem to move when no one watches. Rescuers from the city will have their work cut out for them once it becomes clear how many could be stranded out there, and time will be of the essence. The sooner that these wanderers can be brought to the clinic to be treated, the better!
ii. under the weather
RAIN RAIN, GO AWAY
The first thing anyone will notice as the month of May truly sets in, is the rain. Light or heavy, sunny or cloudy, a near constant rain pours down upon Bottlecap Bay and its surrounding areas. There's no escaping it; it pours, and it pours, and it pours ever long, until it becomes impossible to do even basic tasks outside one's dwelling without getting soaked to the bone.
While it's not unusual to receive rain at this time of the year, the amount of rain is unnatural according to the Guild Leaders. To ensure no one suffers any more than they already have, all three are quick to open their doors to these new Pokemon in their midst. Or at least, they're quick to offer other foreigner's doors. Pokemon who originated from other worlds soon find themselves with new bunkmates and housemates, and with the rain as bad as it is there’s no good way to refuse.
It's best to remain in similar company after all, and until there’s time to sort out who fits where, it’s all these newcomers have.
While it's not unusual to receive rain at this time of the year, the amount of rain is unnatural according to the Guild Leaders. To ensure no one suffers any more than they already have, all three are quick to open their doors to these new Pokemon in their midst. Or at least, they're quick to offer other foreigner's doors. Pokemon who originated from other worlds soon find themselves with new bunkmates and housemates, and with the rain as bad as it is there’s no good way to refuse.
It's best to remain in similar company after all, and until there’s time to sort out who fits where, it’s all these newcomers have.
THE WATER CYCLE
While Pokemon begin to settle into their new lives at Bottlecap Bay, the rain continues to fall. On some days it’s harder — hard enough to bring sheets thick enough to blot vision, sharp enough to leave unprotected pelts stinging for minutes after retreating inside. Thunder booms, and lightning flashes, a clear message to all within the city when they see it. These storms are bad. Dangerous. And the danger is in more than just the weather itself.
At first the signs are subtle. Those same symptoms from the forest can be felt, lasting only as long as a Pokemon is damp from the downpour outside. Even the gentle drizzle causes absent thoughts, an empty mind staring into the distant grey skies as you forget.
Staring longer still, as you remember. But is what you're remembering actually yours? Something about the concentration of forest mist in the form of raindrops changes the effects as the days go by. The body and mind rebel against what it knows doesn't belong, and it finally comes bursting out with a shout! Those memories you've seen, they aren't yours! They're someone else's!
And the world needs to hear it!
At first the signs are subtle. Those same symptoms from the forest can be felt, lasting only as long as a Pokemon is damp from the downpour outside. Even the gentle drizzle causes absent thoughts, an empty mind staring into the distant grey skies as you forget.
Staring longer still, as you remember. But is what you're remembering actually yours? Something about the concentration of forest mist in the form of raindrops changes the effects as the days go by. The body and mind rebel against what it knows doesn't belong, and it finally comes bursting out with a shout! Those memories you've seen, they aren't yours! They're someone else's!
And the world needs to hear it!
iii. the archives
RECORDS KEEPING
The longer the rainfall persists, the more clear it is that staying outside is unwise. Not only is it dangerous to non-water type Pokemon's health for the most part, but the full scope of side effects only increase the risks. After one too many shouting matches caused by vitriolic memories, Polteageist offers a simple but beneficial solution. The doors of the archives are opened up, as senior members in the Lum Guild offer up their time as temporary librarians.
Polteageist's solution is as follows; instead of training their bodies out in the rain, everyone will be training their brains. There have been many questions raised over the last number of weeks, and now is the time for everyone to investigate the mysteries. Entering the Archives means entering a building of clear splendor, filled with couches and beanbags for sitting and beautiful flowers and plants to accentuate the green hues within the halls. The shelves are well stocked with records kept on stone tablets, and the additional guides within the guild are eager to help everyone find what they're looking for.
The illustrious leader of the Lum Berries is well aware however, that not everyone is willing to spend all their time reading. As it would be counterproductive to expect anyone to sit twiddling their thumbs (or tails, or ears) he has thus arranged for a few of the archive meeting rooms to host additional activities. They are simple things; there's classes on recording writings properly in clay before firing, minor history lessons where newly arrived Pokemon can share in what many others already know, and even community building exercises. They're nothing like the escape rooms organized during the last two months, but they're good for passing the time.
And eventually, the rain will hopefully calm down. A few skilled Psychic Pokemon are offering their services to keep others dry until then however, at least so that everyone can get home safely.
Polteageist's solution is as follows; instead of training their bodies out in the rain, everyone will be training their brains. There have been many questions raised over the last number of weeks, and now is the time for everyone to investigate the mysteries. Entering the Archives means entering a building of clear splendor, filled with couches and beanbags for sitting and beautiful flowers and plants to accentuate the green hues within the halls. The shelves are well stocked with records kept on stone tablets, and the additional guides within the guild are eager to help everyone find what they're looking for.
The illustrious leader of the Lum Berries is well aware however, that not everyone is willing to spend all their time reading. As it would be counterproductive to expect anyone to sit twiddling their thumbs (or tails, or ears) he has thus arranged for a few of the archive meeting rooms to host additional activities. They are simple things; there's classes on recording writings properly in clay before firing, minor history lessons where newly arrived Pokemon can share in what many others already know, and even community building exercises. They're nothing like the escape rooms organized during the last two months, but they're good for passing the time.
And eventually, the rain will hopefully calm down. A few skilled Psychic Pokemon are offering their services to keep others dry until then however, at least so that everyone can get home safely.
✩ OOC NOTES.
⟡ TDM CWS: body horror, disorientation, hallucinations, dysphoria
⟡ TDMs are game canon and act as events for the month they are posted.
⟡ New characters can link to their top level beneath the NEWBIE DIRECTORY
⟡ All new arrivals are not assigned to any one guild. However, if they participate in the Archive's bonding activities, they may receive a unique reward.
⟡ Remember that at least one thread for your application must come from the TDM! There is no comment minimum, but we will be looking for engagement, as well as for players and characters who take the time to delve into things like character thoughts, emotions, morality, and other deep themes. Take this time to engage with the setting as you would in game!
⟡ As a reminder, reserves and applications are permanently opened. Please see their respective pages for details on processing time.
⟡ Have any questions related to the TDM? Ask here! If your question is more general for the game, please make sure to direct it to the FAQ page instead. Thank you, and happy threading!
⟡ TDMs are game canon and act as events for the month they are posted.
⟡ New characters can link to their top level beneath the NEWBIE DIRECTORY
⟡ All new arrivals are not assigned to any one guild. However, if they participate in the Archive's bonding activities, they may receive a unique reward.
⟡ Remember that at least one thread for your application must come from the TDM! There is no comment minimum, but we will be looking for engagement, as well as for players and characters who take the time to delve into things like character thoughts, emotions, morality, and other deep themes. Take this time to engage with the setting as you would in game!
⟡ As a reminder, reserves and applications are permanently opened. Please see their respective pages for details on processing time.
⟡ Have any questions related to the TDM? Ask here! If your question is more general for the game, please make sure to direct it to the FAQ page instead. Thank you, and happy threading!
no subject
[Would that be narcissistic? He's never thought of it like that.]
The first time I met a Zoroark was...not all that long after I arrived in Hisui, I...think. The memory is still a bit fuzzy. [Though it's coming back to him now that they're discussing it, and Emmet is going into a bit more detail.] I supposed I had just given it very little to work with. That could still be true!
[Though it. Sort of sounds like it isn't.]
no subject
[ No one at all? That sounds ... lonely? ]
... Well. I guess. It being you but wrong. Easier conclusion than an evil twin you didn't know about trying to kill you.
[ That honestly just sounds like the plot of an extremely cheesy b-movie, when he says it out loud like that. ]
no subject
[Not exactly in a state to be bonding with others, even as Ingo's very social in his right mind. Anyway...he hums a little awkwardly.]
Yes, I'm not...sure I ever would have thought of that. Though, if it really was trying to be you...
[What does that mean for him? For his memories? But it feels too selfish even before he's fully voiced it.]
no subject
... oh. He can't, can he. ]
Maybe it was on to something. [ He offers instead, considering what he is here and all. (and what does that mean for him, really.) There's a sloping, rolling motion in his shoulders that's probably meant to be a shrug, or whatever passes for one when they're both lying down, shoulder to shoulder.
(He could stop making himself talk. If the memory is fuzzy for Ingo, that means Emmet's still holding on to most of it, isn't he? ... That isn't fair though, is it? Is he trying to relieve Ingo from being weighed down by the worst of this one memory, or is he just being selfish?) ]
But whatever it was trying. Whatever it did or didn't see, and decided to recreate. What it thought would be a good idea to copy. I am glad Sneasler made it in time. I am glad someone came at all. I am very, verrrry—
[ Ah, it's getting harder to get the words out. They catch in his throat. It didn't happen, but voicing even this much still makes that horrible alternative feel more real, like it could have happened somewhere far away in another time. And Emmet might never have known.
With effort, he manages to force the rest of it aloud. ]
I am glad you're still here.
no subject
I - thank you. [Is that a normal way to respond to that?] I am as well.
[He's not sure any of that was right. But he can sense some kind of strain in Emmet, and it makes him think that perhaps they have been focusing too much on his memory. Ingo has things he's supposed to share, too. Let him take his turn.]
...I saw the day that I went missing. Not myself, just - the immediate aftermath, I suppose.
[His eyes stay on his paws. There's a scar on his right foreleg, a ring of jagged tooth-marks. Yes, yes, he remembers how he got that now. (Did Emmet really look like that as a human? Surely not?)]
no subject
[ A day involving such major upheaval, introducing the paradigm shift involved in having to define a new before and after, that he feels like it'd be impossible to forget, except ... he can't quite grasp it right now outside of the vaguest outlines of it. The fallout and aftermath, certainly, and some of the morning prior, a carefree cheer that carried over into receiving that first call (over ... radio? xtrans? he can't remember).
That he can't remember that now is actually pretty unsettling. ]
So you saw how I got there too late to do anything.
[ Or know anything, really. And then nearly made a mess of things because everyone was panicking, and he didn't do enough to tamp it because he was right there with them. Emmet thinks he remembers that much, at least— those frantic several hours after, suddenly trying to manage twice the workload he normally would and riding a manic high as they tried to conduct their own searches while not letting on to the public just yet that something had a significant number of the Gear Station staff in a state of agitation. ]
no subject
[Technically, yes, but what on earth was Emmet supposed to do about it? There was no way for him to even know anything was wrong until after it had already happened.]
You handled it as well as you could have! I was the one who went off alone. I suppose I must have felt that place was safe enough.
[It didn't necessarily strike him that way from the memory, but that's in retrospect. Ingo supposes he walks around in Wayward Cave alone with his Pokemon often enough. Maybe the subway tunnels felt just as familiar to him back then.]
no subject
Mostly, without the apprehension that slowly took root as he made his way back, then spoke to Furze, then Cloud, Emmet just finds himself reflecting on how much he'd hoped, or believed, that nothing was wrong when he got the call. Not just wanted to, but sincerely did. Because Ingo could handle himself. That's a truth that Emmet has always had the utmost faith in, back then. ]
It should've been. We know them well. And we are verrrry strong trainers. [ That's not boasting, it's just facts. ] Even if you were alone. Whatever it was. You should have been able to handle it.
So when you weren't there ... I don't know. We didn't find anything. Other people didn't find anything. So eventually. I made up all sorts of things in my head.
[ What could've done it, what could've happened, why, how...
The biggest lingering what-if, the one he can't ever quite get rid of, is 'what if he'd been there'. There in time, there to see it happen, there to do something about it or fail ... just, there. ]
no subject
[It sort of looked like he'd simply dropped all his Pokeballs on the ground and vanished. But Ingo always secures them much more carefully than that. He's sure he probably did in the past, too; that's just common sense. He seriously doubts that whatever occurred was the sort of thing that could be fought off by a Pokemon, anyway, but to think that he didn't even try...]
Whatever happened, it must have been very fast. I doubt there was anything to be done about it.
no subject
[ Emmet falls silent, not sure what else to add. Caught by surprise, no time to react was the most likely conclusion. But then that left the question of who or what could have made it down there without anyone else noticing, and how they'd managed to disappear just as fast. Unless that wasn't where he'd vanished, and the Pokeballs were just dumped there. But that, like every other theory ever floated whether plausible or not brings with it its own questions.
(They'd had to have a discussion about the timeline, there. An investigation with some pointed questions, because, well. All in the name of due diligence. Apparently! Ingo's Xtrans was gone, but the timestamps and then his last sighting ... If nothing else, Emmet being far, far away from the central station at the time means he couldn't have done it.
He wasn't in a position to have done anything at all.) ]
no subject
But he doesn't know enough about the future to imagine how they might investigate. In his world, after people and perhaps some Pokemon went to the area and looked around, there was little else to try.]
There were...a number of people in green. You were all trying to keep the passengers from realizing something was amiss.
[Does Emmet need more description?]
no subject
[ Until it was clear enough that there was nothing to be found, nothing more they could do, and had to make a report to more appropriate authorities. Obviously people would have realized something isn't quite as normal on the battle lines when they didn't get to Ingo at the end of the appropriate win streaks, but there's a difference between that and raising a panic. ]
The people in green. Probably Depot Agents. They work for us. Did you catch any names?
no subject
[He pronounces it carefully, like he isn't entirely sure of it. Ingo should have been paying more attention to the names, but by the time he realized that it was Emmet's memory, it was nearly over.]
And, ah, Cloud?
no subject
[ Wonder how they're doing... ]
no subject
[Is he...supposed to know them? Were they friends, or simply coworkers?]
...there was an older man, too?
no subject
Emmet shivers a little, the motion going through him from head to tail. Mostly he's a lot drier now than he was not too long ago, but still. ]
If not a Depot Agent ... could be Drayden, maybe.
no subject
[He's not sure he saw an Isadore - or, if he did, he doesn't recall them being identified. Certainly there wasn't a Drayden; he didn't really notice anybody who wasn't one of the agents.]
no subject
[ Right, that impromptu ... sort of a meeting, in the office there, is starting to take on clearer shape in his mind.
But this isn't really doing anything for Ingo, is it? They are just names and faces and a brief description. That wouldn't really jog Emmet's memory either, he thinks, as he picks his way through the general shape of it. He was running the red line, got back... they went to investigate... ]
Oh. I think ... That is not how I wanted to show you Chandelure.
no subject
[It's a little weak. Ingo can see why Emmet would not have wanted that to be his introduction to his old partner. He didn't much like seeing him like that either, even if the sight did not really awaken any old memories.]
no subject
Still not ... the best introduction for anyone involved.
[ But that's kind of how that memory was in general. It's not like the memory he got from Ingo, at least. Nothing really happened in it. No one was in any imminent danger. It's just the Aftermath, the cold shock of ice running down your spine as you realize you're missing something important, you missed something important, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you look, at the end of the day, you'll go home alone, the space at your side a gaping void.
Really, Emmet's had it easy, relatively. He hasn't been nearly dying to wild Zoroark, anyway. He lifts his head a little, just enough to stare silently down at his paws for a long moment. ]
... I am Emmet. You asked me to let you know before I do this.
But I think I am going to pretend, at least for a little bit.
no subject
[One might argue that their introduction was not exactly ideal, either.
Ingo blinks, needing a second to process the implication. But once he has...maybe that makes sense? He thinks that their similarities were very important to Emmet once - maybe especially more so now that so little of their old relationship is left. He angles his head more towards the Zoroark, but he thinks that the transformation should not be so jarring now that he is prepared for it.]
Very well.
no subject
Maybe it's that he needs to not look like this for a while. He hasn't entirely stopped shivering, every now and again. At this point, it probably isn't the cold.
(Strange, being uncomfortable and unsettled in his own skin like they've just newly arrived again, after managing to adjust and get used to how things are here. To an extent, though, it's the same feeling that's persisted every time he's managed to successfully disguise himself as something else: the general sense that what he is is not what he needs to
is supposed toshouldbe. Zoroark isn't the right shape for the Tangela terrified of even the Mimikyu and Boltund attempting to rescue her, so Audino instead. Zoroark isn't the right shape for someone who's had bad experiences with it, so anything else would be better.)There's a rush of phantom wind, the long fur of his mane and collar billowing unnaturally before whipping back against him and redistributing itself as the Zoroark's form grows faint and hazy. Shorter, more compact limbs, strong shoulders, smaller ears... a collar, still, with different shape and purpose, a bulkier overall form. The colors shift like an ink spill, a heavy, dark coat blooming into existence in the longer fur at his back, starting at his head, snaking around his neck, and working its way down to eventually terminate in a wisplike tail, longer than this shape's Johtonian cousins.
Emmet carefully stretches his limbs a bit without budging an inch from Ingo's side, testing how well the layers of the illusion follow him. Sound, sight, sensation, scent... Ghosts are shadows and feelings. Shadows are images of something else. So, it all follows.
He'll tilt his head back to glance to his side, checking Ingo's reaction. ]
... Maybe. It's good that I didn't get Illusion to work that first time. Back when we met.
no subject
Probably so. Though, I suppose I did not quite...look at a Typhlosion and think of it as me, yet.
[ Maybe he wouldn't have reacted as badly. But it's a little up in the air. His brow furrows a little as Emmet stretches alongside him. The physical sensation is...odd. Twisting, he reaches with a paw to try and feel where the trailing ghostly mane ought to be.]
no subject
[ Looking closely, there's something like a little bit of faint heat haze around parts of where the mane should be, but it feels to be clinging much closer to Emmet's frame than usual, pressed flatter mostly following the contour of his back. It always feels a bit insubstantial even at the best of times, but if Ingo's looking for it then he'll find it, even if Emmet blinks a little quizzically at him for it. ]
no subject
[ Can you make an illusion of yourself? But, Ingo reasons, Emmet's far more accustomed to seeing his own face looking back at him than most people. At least he was at one point. ]
It certainly is good you did not do that. Though - illusions do not still cause you pain like that, do they? [ He has, for obvious reasons, rarely seen Emmet actually do it. ]
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