for i_am_emmet

[offtracks]

[Ingo has been in this land for a little while now.

There wasn't any grand cataclysm. No rift that he's aware of. He did not fall from the sky. One day, he simply woke up here, lying on the side of the road with a stranger fussing over him in a language that he hardly understood.

He'd quickly made excuses - which he's quite sure she did not understand - and fled into the nearby forest. That's where he's been living, if one could call it that. How do you cope with losing your home, your people, everything you know, for a second time? How do you keep going when you do remember what you've lost, and know that there's no way home?

For a while, he didn't. He doesn't know how many days he passed in a blur of grief and despair, too hollowed-out to consider doing anything but sleep or mourn. It was his Pokemon who cared for him then. He offered to break their Pokeballs and set them free, guilt-ridden that he'd dragged them away from their home too, but none of them left. Instead Gliscor and Tangrowth took it in turns to go out and gather food for everyone. Machamp built a shelter of logs and branches, and Alakazam sat with him and woke him from his nightmares. They all guarded him from wild Pokemon. There aren't too many, or else they aren't so aggressive here. Once, there was a strange black-furred Zoroark, but they attacked it so fiercely that it never even attempted to become Ingo-in-white.

If not for them, he would not have survived this second derailment.

And it's for their sake that he eventually forces himself to begin moving again. He cannot let them waste their lives on him like this. No matter what it feels like, his tracks have not reached an end just yet.

But where do they lead? His first tentative venture out of the forest brings several discoveries. For one: he can't communicate very well with the people here. The language is one he understands! Sort of! But it feels like old, rusty gears in his mind. Written words are easier, but the people just speak too fast and too much. No one will pause to let him try and translate. In fact, most of the people he sees on the road avoid him altogether. It seems outsiders aren't welcome in this land - or, maybe, he just cuts a rather unpleasant figure. His standards of living have slipped.

And this place! To the east of his forest, there's an enormous bridge made of towering metal and glass; to the west, there's a city that's very similar. He attempts to venture into it once, only to find the lights and noise overwhelming. With a blinding headache, he flees back to the forest.

Maybe if he spent time there, he could get used to it. But what's the point? Why should he start from scratch again, carving out a place for himself in a strange land, when it can be torn away from him again so easily? He can't go through it all over again. He won't live through this a third time. The loss of his memories was probably the only reason he settled into Hisui so easily. As much as he's always wondered who he used to be, he's starting to think the amnesia was a blessing. But he didn't forget Hisui when he came here, so he doubts he'll forget this place if he's ever taken somewhere else.

No. There's no place for him here. He doesn't want to fight to make one. So eventually, after having managed to acquire a map, he forms a different plan. This region has a large port city. If he gets there, and finds a way to earn his keep, surely he can barter passage back to Hisui? It's clear to him by now that he won't find any of his friends or clanmates waiting. There's no going home for him. But however long it may have been, the land will still be there. He can return to the familiarity of Mount Coronet, and maybe one day his bones will rest near those of his clan. It will be no less lonely than living here in the forest, but at least he will know where he is and how he fits.

The first step of the journey is to get through the city - Nimbasa, according to the map - and exit by the southern road. It's an intimidating prospect. There are no guards or city walls, but they obviously don't much like outsiders, and he cannot pass for a local. What, then, to do? He spends a day or two scouting it out. The bustle barely dies down even at night. How do they keep the lights burning so long? When do these people sleep?

Ingo finally decides to set out in the early hours of the morning. The streets are still brightly lit, but at least they're quiet then; most of the people have gone. It should be fine? But maybe he's just developed some sort of aversion to the place - his head still starts pounding before he's even halfway through. It's the sort of headache that makes it hard to see, much less navigate. Luckily, he isn't the only one with a good sense of direction here; he releases Probopass.]

We are trying to leave this city to the south. Can you help guide me there?

[Probopass offers him a floating stone arm to lean on. And they move through Nimbasa like that - a little slow, Ingo leaning heavily on his Pokemon. He's a shadow of the man he was in Hisui: gaunt, bedraggled, shaggy and bearded. He hasn't been eating even as well as he used to, and certainly hasn't been attending to his usual grooming standards. Well, who's left to care how he looks?]

Comments

[offtracks]

Why would you call Hisui "Sinnoh" in Galarian? That is hardly the name of the place! Are there no speakers of Ranseigo and Galarian who could translate? I spoke Ranseigo when I first arrived - not so well as I do now, but all the same!

[That outburst is, of course, entirely in Ranseigo. Ingo plops down on the bed, and then bounces up and down slightly. It's very...soft and springy. He had a very nice bedroll back in Hisui, but of course it was not like whatever this is. He almost wonders if he'll be able to sleep on it at all.]

Perhaps the name has changed? But it must have been a very long time indeed, for that to be the case... [He broods over that for a second before adding to Emmet:] What is the year?

[i_am_emmet]

[A very long time? Emmet says the year to Ingo, wondering what is going on.]

[offtracks]

[Ingo just. Gives a long, shuddering sigh and buries his face in his hands.]

[i_am_emmet]

Ingo...?

{Emmet steps into the room, some of their Pokemon are following him.]

[offtracks]

[In Ranseigo:]

I want to go home.

[And in Galarian:]

In Hisui it was... [yeah that was a while ago huh]

[i_am_emmet]

[Emmet is silent, waiting for a response.]

[offtracks]

[Ingo provides the year! It's...well, could be worse, it isn't three hundred years ago.]

[i_am_emmet]

...What?

[Emmet was sure he didn't hear Ingo right. Maybe Ingo was like that one chick in that one movie where they all thought it was eons ago but it was just a village in the middle of nowhere. And she like discovered cars and stuff when she left the village.]

[offtracks]

[Ingo sighs, flops back onto the bed, and repeats himself.]

[i_am_emmet]

That is a verrrry long time ago.

[offtracks]

Yes.

[He's well aware of that, thank you!]

[i_am_emmet]

If you want to rest for a bit, please do. The bathroom is right down the hall if you want to wash up.

[Emmet feels out of his league, he should call someone and tell them this. Use the internet or something to confirm what Ingo is saying.]

[offtracks]

...okay.

[It sounds like a dismissal. Ingo will just lie here, then. He hasn't been awake for very long - it's still early in the morning - but that short time has been exhausting. He really ought to clean up...but maybe in a minute.]

[i_am_emmet]

[Emmet stares at Ingo for a few more moments, stepping back into the hall and letting the Pokemon come into the room, Crustle crawls into the bed with Ingo as Emmet moves across the hall to his own room.]

[He doesn't know what to do. Should he call their parents? The police? Look up what Ingo is saying?]

[offtracks]

[Ingo lays where he is for a long while, curling up against the bulk of the unfamiliar crab-like Pokemon. The compact dirt of its shell is pleasantly cool, and too solid to rub off on him. Not that it would matter, filthy as he is right now.

It's the thought that he must be dirtying these nice bedsheets that eventually gets him to rise. He trudges across the hall to the promised bathroom and stands in the door for a moment, looking at everything. What.....is this.

But he knows what levers are for, so common sense and a bit of muscle memory are enough to get the sink on. He frowns at his own face in the mirror. He really does look like an unkempt mountain man now. He should bathe...but this is the first time he's seen his beard, and it's horrible and untrimmed and gross and he hates it actually? Rather than deal with washing it, he'll just shave. He wasn't carrying his razor on him when he left, but his pocket knife will do well enough in a pinch.]

[i_am_emmet]

[Emmet is still unsure what to do, so he texts the Detective about Ingo to start doing the research. He wouldn't want to overwhelm Ingo after all. He steps out of his room and look down the hall.]

[He doesn't quite notice the pocket knife yet.]

Are you hungry?

[offtracks]

[Ingo turns a little sharply, but luckily he's learned very good knife discipline over the years. His hand doesn't jerk even when he's startled, holding the blade steady against the angle of his jaw.]

Ah - I have food.

[He'd built up some stores before leaving the forest. Dried fish and fruit, mostly, and some mushrooms Tangrowth said were safe. It should last him a little while before he has to start imposing on other peoples' resources, especially if he's just sitting around here instead of hiking. Emmet must be stretched thin as it is with so many Pokemon to feed.]

And I can go get more later!

[i_am_emmet]

[Emmet stares at the knife now.]

We have razors you can use. And I just did my shopping for the week...

[offtracks]

It is an extra seven mouths!

[Obviously he has a full team of Pokemon with him! No offense to Alakazam and Probopass, but he hasn't had only two for years and years. That is far too much company to just drop on someone unawares!

A razor would be nice, though. Ingo shrugs and turns to rinse off his knife before carefully drying it and returning it to the sheath, which he puts back in his coat because apparently he just has concealed weapons on his person all the time now.]

[i_am_emmet]

[Emmet opens up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and pulls out a disposable razor.]

I have plenty of Pokemon food.

[offtracks]

[Ingo looks at the razor extremely skeptically - he was expecting something more akin to a straight razor. These blades are tiny! But he'll give it a shot...he takes it and goes back to shaving.]

Fine, but I would like to help!

[i_am_emmet]

I guess once you're rested and we have had time to tell everyone you're back, we can go buy some bowls for your additional passengers so they are not eating out of normal bowls.

[offtracks]

[Ingo hasn't even thought as far ahead as the first part of that, much less what his Pokemon will eat out of!]

Who is "everyone"?

[i_am_emmet]

Mom, Dad, Uncle Drayden, Elesa, the police...

[offtracks]

[That sounds like a lot of people. Ingo frowns at himself in the mirror again.]

I must...clean up first.