“I totally could be a dad!” Zeke shouted. “Just because he wasn’t impressed by my paper doesn’t—or—because I haven’t wanted to go out with anyone yet, all right? I’m busy with school, so obviously it’d be irresponsible—my mom says I’m plenty handso—”"Stick with us, son. Ignore that guy, he ain't even old enough to be a dad."
Lee chuckled and shook his head. "Keep telling yourself that, kid."“I totally could be a dad!” Zeke shouted. “Just because he wasn’t impressed by my paper doesn’t—or—because I haven’t wanted to go out with anyone yet, all right? I’m busy with school, so obviously it’d be irresponsible—my mom says I’m plenty handso—”
They met the mountain's summit, and Rally gently lifted Abigail off the lift and up to the sky as he kneeled, offering up the human turned ralts as... something. He was holding her in the air. While he remained silent, his spirit filled the air. Warmth filled the air around them, even melting the gilded surface of the snow. For just a moment, it seemed the sky shined brighter, and then he stood. "Amen, baby," he said.Those sentences... Were the single greatest clusterfuck of pronouns she'd ever heard. In her world, it would've been an insult to refer to a deity as either mortal gender, or like an object. Yet Rally had done all three. In only two sentences.
All things considered, it was hardly the weirdest thing about this world. Or even the weirdest thing about Rally. Abigail just rolled with it.
She really hoped the lift reached the top soon. And that it wasn't far to the summit from there. And that there was indeed something of value in this. Turning in the ski lift had been a complicated process requiring wrangling a number of sub-tasks. Logically, that didn't mean it needed to have some payoff, after all, many things were complicated and multi-step for no conceivable benefit, like dancing the macarena in rollerblades on a tightrope. Being complex and multi-step did not make something inherently worthwhile... Emotionally, she expected a payoff anyways, logic be damned.
Zeke nodded. "Yeah. Rally'll do that to you," he mumbled. He looked up to the sky and nibbled on his pen. "Y'know, nobody actually knows when his shop showed up. The resort's pretty young, but he's the only one that's ever run his shop. It's not even included in the blue-prints of the mountain." He tapped the pen against his temple. "My guess is the resort came to him." He shrugged and went back to work. "But hey, what do I know.""Gaaaawwwwds I fuckin' hate this universe."
A chiseled statue shot down the slope behind her, changing poses without even an afterimage of the transitions between them. As it rocketed closer, it was in fact Rally flexing every single muscle on his body while flawlessly slipping down the slope. He leapt over ever obstacle Abigail dodged with uncountable flips while airborne.Abigail stared at the slope, examining it. Under normal circumstances, she would, as a second time skier, never touch a slope of such difficulty. On the other hand, Rally had made it sound like the slope itself was based on her soul, so maybe it was safe, and worst case scenario she died, which meant she didn't have to worry about this anymore and therefore wasn't that bad of an alternative.
It occurred to her that she wasn't sure if she checked the summit, which was her original plan. She prepared to take on that task at right about the moment Rally pushed her. Great.
The slope started with a steep, steep drop. She wasn't sure if she was technically 'skiing' or 'falling.' Luckily, her new ralts body afforded her a lower mass, and with it a lower terminal velocity. Hopefully, that would be enough that she wouldn't end up offing herself as she hurled down what was debatably a 'slope,' and more aptly described as a 'cliff.'
She really wished she'd thought to ask Gen if she could borrow his reunion cape in case she needed to extract herself, but in her defence, she hadn't been expecting Rally to push her onto this assassination attempt of a ski hill.
Thoughts of Gen and his reunion cape were quickly squashed by a sudden g-force as she went from the steep cliff to a more reasonable grade. It looked like the designer of SkiFree had a night of hard drugs and decided to add way too fucking many trees. It occurred to Abigail that there may not be a ski trail here at all. Perhaps it was just a normal forest, and someone just stuck a double black diamond sign at the edge of a the cliff in order to see if anyone was stupid enough to try it.
It really was a shame that her family's life insurance company had gone bankrupt.
Eventually, though, something that was recognizable as a trail emerged. Someone had been kind enough to clear enough of the trees that she'd be able to see that she would hurtle straight off another cliff if she continued straight, and that the trees down one side of the cliffs edge had been cleared.
This was about when Abigail realized she'd forgotten how to turn properly. She pushed one leg out, but it did nothing more than widen her stance. In a better moment, she might've remembered that she needed to angle the ski in the direction she wanted to go, but such rational thought was beyond her at this speed.
Instead, she relied on the same thing she used to approach most problems: Trying to find a way to avoid having to solve them in the first place. Instead of working on learning how to turn, she grabbed as much snow as she could with her mental reach and shaped it into something that, if you squinted enough, looked like a half-pipe making a quarter turn. As her skis hit it, physics determined that it would be a lot easier to turn than to go over the mound she'd created, and kindly sent her in the correct direction.
When she landed, her skis were askew in a way that resembled how one would properly turn. While this conveniently reminded her of how one was supposed to ski, it also sent her turning too far, back uphill towards the forest. (Which, once her inertia ran out, would really just send her back downhill towards the cliff, but this time facing the wrong way.)
She did manage to correct the mistake. It might have involved a bit of cheating and reshaping the snow with her mind to guide her skis, but she had larger concerns than integrity on hand at the moment, and cheating worked.
She wondered how many times over she'd have died by now as a human. Enough that it would drive her life insurance company bankrupt all over again, she was sure. Still, acceleration and inertia was forgiving to the small, and telekinesis made things much easier. The end almost in sight, she was almost expecting to survive, until she turned a corner to see a tree fallen across the entirety of the trail. It was, for all functional intents and purposes... a dead end. She could see the bottom now, just on the other side of the tree. What a stupid spot to die.
Though her visit with Yveltal might just have to wait, for there was more cheating to be done. She formed the snow in front of her into a ramp, jump over the tree, and... couldn't resist the instinct to flail her limbs. In doing so, she managed to dig the tip of one of her skis into the ground, snapping off the front. This caused her to uncontrollably turn until she'd gone sideways, which incidentally was how she was supposed to stop anyways.
Inexplicably alive despite everything, she took off her three-quarters of a set of skis, plunged them into the ground in such a way that they stood up like the skier's equivalent of a head on a stake, and promptly collapsed, gasping for air to replace the breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding.
"Heh?" Zeke gasped. "Oh, right, no." He knelt down and pulled up an apparently hinged floorboard. He tossed a can of "Pop-Star" at Jesse, "You look tired, drink this," and pulled out a stick of chalk. "I still have a lot to figure out, but this should help us a bit." He started writing gibberish on the floor, now using much more punctuation. Right as he finished, the text digitized and started rapidly changing itself. "Right, there we go. Good, completely indecipherable. Mr. President, can you read this?" https://www.timeanddate.com/countdo...=1440&msg=End+of+the+Seventh+Day&font=cursiveJesse stretched out each part of his body, letting the smallest bit of tension out after gradually building up to a breaking point before he witnessed Abigail's feat of improvised skiing.
"We still gotta get a grip on this thing, y'all. Zeke, y'got a timeframe fer those calculations of yers? And Elbert, how are we feelin' on this 'Santa did it' theory we've been battin' about?"
And Elbert, how are we feelin' on this 'Santa did it' theory we've been battin' about?
“Yes, it may sometimes look like a normal clock,” Zeke said, still hiding safe behind Palkia. “But it’s only been a few minutes since I said we had nineteen hours and a day left. It’s a quantum link, changing every time and point in time we observe it.” Indeed, the next time Jesse looked at it, the “clock” was completely random gibberish that changed too fast to discern any pattern at all.Jesse downed the energy drink with a grimace. It wouldn't help with the temporal bullshit, but whatever.
"Hey, thanks pal. Anyway, uh, hate to break it to ya, Zeke, but that clock thing ya got sure looks like a regular countdown timer t'me. Got about a day and six hours left on it."