(This was all supposed to be last chapter but it just bloated like gas buildup.)


    <hr>


    The winds blew across the clearing top—altitude gave speed, and it sent the pot''s steam wafting away.


    Today''s meal was a simple meaty stew. And Linh was chopping. Up down, up down, up down went the knife. flat against fingers flat, curled away. Two Pokémon watched him as he worked. Tinkie, and Kaolin, his Polteageist.


    Behind him, Poppy was on her laptop, a video call to her Mother—one that Linh had to set up, and instruct the women how to unmute, enlarge screen, and turn on face cam. One wrinkled finger press at a time.


    Poppy held Varoom up to the camera, so her Mother could coo. Further away from the fire, sitting atop where Linh left his bag, Menace watched this all.


    Casket has yet to show back up. Before Linh looked around for her, Tinkie made a noise. Spit sucked in between braces.


    Linh''s chopping stopped. "Yes?"


    Tinkie, chin just higher then the table, scowled. She raised a clenched fist, and held it over the table. She let go, and a twig knocked against the plastic.


    Linh made a confused noise, he watched Tinkie nudge the twig towards him. "I... don''t understand?"


    Tinkie growled, then picked up the twig and pointed it at her teeth.


    Linh tilted his head. "You want to eat that twig?"


    She shook in negation, and maybe rage, then jabbed the twig at Linh, then her mouth.


    "You want me to eat the twig."


    Tinkie nodded, she reached across the table and set the twig before Linh, by the cutting board. He set down the knife and looked at the dirt on the twig.


    "... How about no."


    Tinkie somehow managed to look affronted, she ducked down and crawled under the table—popping back up right next to Linh. She looked up at Linh and poked at the twig again.


    Linh crossed his arms, "No." Then he noticed Tinkie''s hand, clamped on his wrist. Pressure grew, and he found himself dragged down with a yelp.


    Her movements were neither forceful nor hurried. Persistent and gentle effort that Linh could not interrupt—not that he was trying, as Tinkie''s other hand was gripping the twig, and trying to snake past his warding hand.


    She poked his lips with the twig, and Linh sealed them shut, laughter bubbling up.


    "What''s the matter Tinkie?" The twig poked his cheek, and it stretched his grin out further.


    Tinkie scowled, she had dragged Linh down so far that he was practically over her knee—facing up. And he had gone limp, so she had to bend down even further.


    "C''mon, am I not a friend? A honoured ally?" Linh looked past her and winked.


    Tinkie kept on poking his cheek, twig-arm snapping from side to side, in an attempt to get past his hands. Weak slaps and pushes against her arm and face.


    Then Linh glowed purple, "Ally Switch," he said.


    And he was gone—in his place was Kaolin. Kaolin leaned upwards and bit onto the end of the twig—sucking on it.


    Tinkie blinked, then sneered, she tossed Kaolin away and stood back up. She stood back up and stomped her feet at where Linh was—on the other side of the table! She stomped around the table this time, clenched fists held behind her waist. Kaolin followed, giggling.


    "Hey hey hey!" Linh backed away as Tinkie menaced him. A look to the left, and then to the right—for options. He grabbed the chopping board, "This needs to go into the pot!"


    Tinkie paused, and glared down at the chopped carrots.


    Linh raised them up a little.


    Tinkie snarled, and then grabbed the cutting board. She took the knife too—and used its point to give a ''I''m watching you'' gesture. She marched to the pot.


    Linh watched her go, then asked Kaolin, "What''s her issue?"


    Kaolin mimed picking its teeth with the twig.


    "Oh she remembered that?"


    Kaolin giggled, nodding. It came out as thin streams of steam from it''s teapot—a laugh all the way to the belly.


    "How strange—with Nemona''s battle, I would have thought she''d forget." Linh uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table, nonchalant. "Oh well."


    Kaolin simply smiled, drifting side to side, humming a tune made of rippling tea. Linh looked across the campsite—a shallow bowl somewhat protected from the wind, where it whistled on the crater lip.


    Tinkie dumped the carrots into the pot, knife scraping against the wood. She turned. She saw Linh miming stirring the pot. She went back to the pot and stirred the soup, scowling. The spoon clacking against the rim.


    Linh chuckled, then turned to Kaolin. "Hey, Kaolin," he began.


    It perked up.


    "We haven''t actually had a proper talk, have we?" Linh rolled his wrist, meaningless, "I know you want to go explore, but I don''t actually know what you want to explore—battles, yeah. But to where? How far?"


    Koalin gestured with its tea-hands, and the teapot''s sides told more. Battle, against many a foe. Victory, against many a foe. A trophy being given to a man and Kaolin. The features started out like Florian the old potter, but half-way through, became like Linh the Trainer.


    "Battle, success? Fancy yourself a blood knight?" Linh asked, then paused, "Yet, you do not seem upset about losing the battle against Nemona."


    Kaolin twitched, then crossed its arms and fumed—very convincingly. If it were not for how the tea that made its body remained perfectly stable and smooth. In fact...


    Linh, without warning, stuck his finger into Kaolin, and came back with it stained purple-black. He ran it over his tongue and tasted only a pleasant herbal brew.


    The ghost didn''t even taste bitter. And in this world, that meant both literal and metaphorical bitterness.


    Kaolin gasped in affront, but Linh spoke over it, "In fact, are you sure you even want battle? Or, perhaps, you want something else?" Kaolin''s eyes furrowed, an invisible brow creasing them. But it conceded.


    The images shifted again—to a pottery competition, a tall and thin-necked vase. And Linh bowing his head to recieve the medal. Then a fishing competition, and then a contest. Each time, Linh and Kaolin lavished with rewards.


    "You only want to win?" Linh frowned, "Lie," He said.


    Kaolin pouted, arms shaking, then the images flickered, and every medal, every bouqet and trophy disappeared. Instead, Linh and Kaolin, making an ashtray together. Linh straining against a fishing line—the sun setting in the background. The roar of applause and the silence of a crowd both represented in jagged cheer lines and awkward dots, both to a proud Polteageist.


    "... The experience itself." Linh reached out, and tapped each image in succession. "Creation, struggle, success and failure. You don''t care what happens, only that it does. Is that right?"


    Kaolin nodded, a little shyly.


    "How about this, as a good memory?" Linh reached into his pocket, and took out a single flower petal. A rose petal—large in his palm. He tore it in half, and offered one half to Kaolin. "There''s this little ritual, of kinship, where two men pour sake, alcohol, into a bowl, and share it between them. I don''t like alcohol, and I don''t intend to be siblings. But what about a shared meal with a friend?"


    Kaolin solemnly took the torn half, and they both ate the flower petal together.


    Then Linh coughed out the petal, and hacked for air. Kaolin pointed a finger at him, and laughed. Unhelpfully.


    "See?" Linh coughed, "Good memories."


    Kaolin spun merrily.


    Linh hit his chest and spat out some extra saliva. "Fuck that''s foul—dunno how you lot like them." He looked to the side and checked the time. "Well, the food shouldn''t take long... You want to eat now, or later?" He offered an incense stick—running lowish.


    (If he ran out, he''d switch to feeding his Ghost''s by the ways they naturally fed. Which could range from simply drinking their poured tea, to bleeding on their thorns.)


    (Petals and prayers are treats, given how much they like those.)


    Kaolin floated towards the stick, before looking over to Menace—lazing in the daylight—and shaking its head. The tealid jostling.


    "Eat together?" Linh guessed right. "I suppose so. We can''t eat while Casket''s out, regardless."


    Then Linh shifted in place, and checked the time again. "... Casket''s been gone awhile, hasn''t she?" He braced against the table, hand covering his mouth. "Maybe we should go look for her..."


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Kaolin tilted to the side, but then Linh stood up and turned away, "No—no. That''s silly. She''s found me before, she can find me again. She''ll be back."


    He walked a few steps, Kaolin just behind. "Unless, of course, she gets accosted by something."


    Boots scuffed the dirt below, drawing half-circle tracks, "No—she''ll just go into her shadow and run away. Have some faith."


    Kaolin watched his boots brush against the ground, then at his shadows crawl. Then it giggled at what it saw.


    "God, where is Casket!" Linh turned around, a bit of something in his voice. "Should never have suggested she run off. Stupid—stupid." He inhaled through his teeth.


    Kaolin flew in front of his face and held its arms out, a ''stop'' gesture. Linh stopped. He watched as Kaolin stuck its thumb out, one eye closed, aiming at his shadow. And then a Shadow Ball came out, weak and wispy and nothing. A smeared illusion more then a Move.


    It sunk into Linh''s shadow and Casket popped out. Tail wagging, with a long stick in her mouth.


    It has been about two hours since Casket left to find a stick for Linh. Which doesn''t really explain the wide, bright grin on Linh''s face as he pulled Casket into a hug, so viciously he unbalanced and nearly fell.


    <A Talk about Types>


    Stew done. A simple meal—but effective.


    Everyone crowded around Linh as he ladled bowls and passed them off, each taking their own with their own preferences and wants.


    Tinkie first, as her right as ''co-chef'', she snatched the ladle and the bowl from Linh''s hands. And she poured her own portion—filling so full that it reached the rim and wetted her fingers. She brought the bowl close and sniffed it for evaluation, and then moved to go away before Linh offered her a berry. A sorta apology.


    She left the small circle with the bowl steadily still—not spilling a drop. The berry dripping its juices onto her other hand. Linh hummed, then turned to hand out more stew.


    Riolu''s next, standing to his tippy toes and reaching up as far as his paws can stretch. Linh handed over the bowl with the salt shaker. As Riolu preferred to oversalt his food. He toddled away with both bowl and condiment over his head, eyes empty.


    Then Poppy''s, from her fancy bowl with a great big ''P'' on its side. Linh carried it for her to the table because it was still steaming hot.


    Then Linh''s Pokémon—small tiny portions for flavour and bonding. They ate from Linh himself.


    Casket got a quarter portion, which she would leave for later. Far more interested in gnawing at Linh''s ankle. Gumming it as she inhaled incense.


    Menace got a half portion, lifted up and tilted against the pot''s side until the soup spilled out. Minimal moisture, most substance for the desiccated bush. He rolled atop and sat there, the root system at his base steadily breaking it down.


    Kaolin got the liquid itself—skimmed up. Broth to be drank and added to its tea-brew body. It demanded with tugging sleever that Linh pour it down himself. And it reclined back as Linh poured the stew down it''s teapot.


    Finally. Linh''s portion, the dregs of the pot. The chef''s rightly earned portion. He sat near Poppy and lifted up his bowl. A scent of heady broth. Slow-reduced and starchy, with chunks of flurry soft potato—the base. And in between, red-brownness of beef cuts, seared first for that maillard reaction. He spooned up a good mix of the food and blew on it, then ate it. Savoury beef cut with sweet chopped carrots, quartered tomatoes boiled until they shrunk and tore apart. A hint of sourness in the aftertaste, a splash of vinegar to accent. Crunch from soft-stiff cabbage ribbons, soaked wilty green until it was juicy, not crispy. And the taste of fruity oil between it all. Olive oil drizzled at the last moment, to give a silky sheen of oil puddles.


    Linh stirred his bowl, watching the dregs spin, before he set it aside and dragged Casket into his lap—to rub her ear-tufts and flap them about. "Hey Poppy," he started. "How do Pokémon pick up moves from different Types?"


    Poppy made a humming, beeping, noise, spoon stuck in her mouth and to the side. She opened her mouth and it dropped down with a splash. "It''s kindaaaa weird."


    "How weird?"


    "Weird!" Her arms shot up, legs stretching out with a kick, "To teach them, you gotta explain how to make their type the other type! You gotta break down what they know, break down what it needs to be, and explain how one becomes the other."


    "... Could I have an example?"


    Poppy nodded, then reached down towards Riolu—sitting flat on the ground. She pulled up one of his paws and showed off its toebeans. A press, and the tiny claws popped out. Directly underneath the dewclaws above each ''finger''.


    Riolu made no reaction, he just stared straight ahead, eyes like black dots.


    "The first things a Riolu learns is Quick Attack and Feint. And that''s Normal. Attacking quickly and striking with thier paws is normal, so they understand Normal. But as they get older, by their first month, their claws grow in, and they grow in as metal! It''s itchy, so they scratch things to relieve it."


    "And as they scratch things, as they play with the claws, and feel the hardness of them—as the claws ring and vibrate, they learn Metal Claw. From there, they understand Steel. In contrast to Normal. Hence, the connection is made—Normal is to do something normally, with your body. And Steel is to do something with Steel, steely!


    "But! But! If they learn Steel from a different move, like Bullet Punch or Metal Burst, then they''re understanding of Steel and how it relates to Normal changes!"


    Poppy stopped pressing down on Riolu''s palm, the claws shrunk away with a shik! "That''s how it works, every Pokémon develops their own understanding, their own translation of how to turn their Type into each other Type!"


    She paused, "Or they go with a Type they already know. Menace can, for example, learn Steel type Moves by starting from Ghost, or Grass."


    That''s, so every type paired to all the others, seventeen pairs ... repeat by the number of types there are, eighteen. That''s...


    "Three hundred and six," said Poppy.


    "Like, two hundr—okay do you just memorise that?"


    Poppy tilted her head, "No?"


    Pause.


    "...Okay," Linh sighed, "So, can you help me with it, then?"


    "Ummm. Yeah, I can teach Body Press and Play Rough, and Steel as a whole!"


    "Useful, but what about for Kaolin." Linh gestured with Casket''s ear. To where Kaolin was poking at the still-hot cooking pot. "They''ve Psychic—the type, not sure if I should bother with the TM—and Ghost. What about Fairy, to handle Dark? Once Kaolin grab''s Shell Smash it can blow through Psychic resists with just Stored Power, but it can''t do much against immunity."


    Poppy hummed, "That''ll be... Disarming Voice, and then working up to Dazzling Gleam." She grinned, "I can''t help you there! I don''t know how to do Fairy outside of Play Rough! I can teach that to Casket, and maybe Menace!" She paused, "I dunno if Brambleghasts can learn Play Rough."


    "Actually," Linh grinned, "I think Menace should learn Ground. There''s a certain Move there that I think Menace will REALLY like. But, yes—Play Rough would be just fine. Or Body Press—it''ll still target Dark, and Casket will have decent bulk when she evolves."


    "Body Press is easier, it''s just throwing your weight around."


    Linh nodded. He found a good spot in Casket''s fur and scratched until she started kicking. "What about you? What are you planning for your Pokémon."


    "I''m learning about Dark first! So I can teach Riolu to master Dark Pulse."


    Linh nodded, "As you''ve said before."


    "Exactly," Poppy chirped. "Do you wanna see me do it?"


    Linh had nowhere else to be, he nodded.


    "Okay. Fighting to Dark." She tapped Riolu on the shoulder until he looked at her, maw still a bit wet with stew. "Riolu? Listen carefully, okay?"


    Riolu just stared.


    "Fighting is about respect and honour, and justice and doing right! Right?" she asked.


    Riolu stared at her, then nodded slightly. It was difficult to tell if that was because he understood, or if he was nodding off.


    "So is Dark!" Poppy bounced in her seat, "Dark is loyalty and trust, but only given to the right person—Dark knows the ease of betrayal and the incentives to do bad, because that is what the instincts of Dark Pokémon call for. So they only give their faith and trust and sacred vows to the most worthy, yeah?"


    It was so subtle Linh swore he mistook it, but a flash of calculation sparkled in Riolu''s eyes. Shiny light that pierced through the optical nerves to shine on cobwebbed gears.


    Then it was gone. Riolu leaned upwards and sniffed the hem of Poppy''s coat.


    "Think about that, that grim trust—it''s rare and not given much, if at all. Think about that. As if you could only trust one person in your life. Show me Swift." Without stopping from licking at the soft puffy edge of her coat, Riolu raised his palms. On them, white glowing shuriken spun. "Consider that—to be so untrusting of the world. How lonely! But it''s a good lonely, a severe and deep lonely. One you chose, because Dark treats trust as precious as gold, and Dark is greedy! Now, throw!"


    Riolu snapped his paws out, and dark orbs flew through the air, Dark Pulse. Riolu glanced down at his paws in surprise, then they glowed with a Dark and careful energy—bleak black—for a moment. They faded away as Riolu let the Dark Pulse stop forming, so he could sniff his paws.


    Poppy beamed at Linh, "And that''s how to do it!" She made a ''moue'' face, "Fighting''s also about honour-able tac-tics, but that''s not Dark-like. So we, like, ignore it."


    <A Talk about Types>


    Messengengar:


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">


    Hassel


    N.B. Bring tissues


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">


    > CasketCliffGap.jpg


    > How''s this?


    Hassel


    > Artistically? Very well done. The overly detailed eyes pop very well. It really DOES look like some speakable horror is hiding in the cracks!


    > Photographically, still not adhering to the sacred thirds.


    > PHOTO_BASICS.pdf


    > Adhere to this, young Wyrmling! Adhere!


    > Nyeh. You say that but ther ewas nothing else to contrast against. It was a flat wall.


    Hassel


    > Impossible!


    > Sunlight''s dusk and it''s shining bright on the stone–that''s direct contact. Point your camera towards it and capture the sun in the second third. Have the first third be your monster coming out of the crack.


    > And if the sun is in view, I can have Casket put up a flat in front of it. Make the sun literally beam down, a smile so wide the caruncles twist!


    Hassel


    > Hold on let me search something.


    > Horrifying. Keep going.


    > Could go even further, make it distort until the eyelids peel and the punctum show. A little leakage and...


    Hassel


    > hold on again


    > Disgusting. Keep going, or is that not the tone you want to give?


    > On 2nd thought your right. More grotesque then scary.


    > What''d you say about body horror?


    Hassel


    > Ahem.


    > Listen up baby Drake! Body horror is NOT biological ugliness within our comprehension


    > (It is also not OUTSIDE our comprehension. That''s just silly. Eldritch themes shouldn''t be visualised at all.)


    > It is the defilement of the form! It is the desecration of the self! It is cruel man and indifferent universe violating the flesh!


    > What''s the average age of your art classes, again?


    Hassel


    > Good body horrabout 17, I think. Why?


    > Just checking. Quick! Get back to your monologue before you lose your pace!


    Hassel


    > Good body horror does not show blood and gore and surgical scars no. That''s just disgusting, and sobering, not scary. Good body horror makes the reader or viewer afraid it''ll happen to THEM.


    > Yeahhh thats it.


    > We gonna make it to Artazon soon, anything you think we should look at?


    Hassel


    > I''m sure Brassy can recommend better places then me. But there''s a hole in the wall restaurant down Youngbark rd that does an amazing Biryani. Tell Elora I recommended you, she knows me.


    > Gonna head off now?


    > Ye


    Hassel


    > Then, as your next assignment—show me a photo showing off romance! But, as a condition.


    > Only one creature, Pokémon or human, can be in the photo.


    > Good luck!


    Read at 10:00


    Hassel


    > And no forlorness! Nothing but positive emotions!


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Durantelegram:


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">


    Poppy


    E4 Co-worker THE BABY.


    </td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">


    Poppy


    > LARRRYYYYY ????


    > Four sparkles. Has something really excited you?


    Poppy


    > ??????????????????


    > Remember my rule.


    Poppy


    > Two more for today!


    > ???


    > Hee


    > Not your usual selection.


    Poppy


    > I chose ones I think youd like!


    > Appreciated


    > Was there anything else? Or did you not want to miss an opportunity to spam stickers at me.


    Poppy


    > No yes!


    > Linh''s sooooooo slow! I would have been at you by now!"


    > Is that so?


    > Well. You do have to accomodate Linh, he has old man knees.


    Poppy


    > Does he?


    > Yes, please make sure to mention this to him whenever possible.


    > As his old man brain may make him forget.


    Poppy


    > Ok.


    > But, it''s good to take your time, see some sights. Memories stick better when they''re longer.


    Poppy


    > But I found all the cool spots on my first Journney!


    > Now you get to show all the cool spots to Linh now, right?


    > Isn''t that nice?


    Poppy


    > Yeah...


    > Yes.


    > Plus, if there''s anything I''ve learned since I fell into this world, there''s always something new, just over the horizon.


    > Tell you what, I''ll have a gift for you when you reach me, but don''t arrive too soon!


    > The best things come to those who wait.


    Poppy


    > Okayyyy


    > Goodnight Larry


    > Goodnight, Poppy.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <A Talk about Types>


    Despite Casket leaving to find Linh a good walking stick, leaving so abruptly and long that he got nervous, Linh found that he didn''t really have the walking stick.


    "Does it have a name?" Poppy swished the stick this way and that, smacking down the few tufts of long grass clinging to the slope.


    Linh took a few steps, he watched two trees stradding the road—roots crossing over the dirt and entangling. In the boughs, two flocks of Squawkabilly screeched at each other—the left flock had blue feathers, and the right flock had yellow. This was apparently enough to have a verbal gang war over.


    "Flintpiercer."


    "That''s a good name!" Poppy swished the stick again. Nice and straight, shockingly straight, with a knob at one end and two small branches just a bit down. A pommel and hand guard by freak of nature.


    "How long ''till Artazon?"


    "You can see it Linh!" Poppy pointed, "It''s right over there—or did you forget?" She grinned slyly. Or as sly as a preschooler can.


    Linh looked ahead, "So you say." There, past the trees of feuding Squawkabilly, and past the shrubbery Tandemaus darted between, and past the drifting Drifloons—trapped in deadzones of wind—there was Artazon.


    Tall, rustic, houses. Ordered regularly—so much that Linh could see in between the houses and straight through the city. This was no rural sprawl inherited long before. This was a town planned from the start, from the tall metal bird-nests for Rookidee to the lattices for flowering vines to creep up.