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Brisa huffed in both amiability and perplexity. "Maybe I'm just ridin' high off yesterday's safe return an' all, but I reckon an earnest, well-meanin' fella like you won't have lastin' trouble gettin' along with our common affiliates. What could you have done to engender so much resentment, huh?"
She wondered if this was somewhat how Starr had felt when she'd grieved her accidental hurting of Curio so bad.
Icetales felt his heart squeezing and his chest tightening. He could not forget imposing figures of the three dragons, the soul-bending golden pupils of the unnatural Smeargle, the unease and terror radiating from his companions, the storm raging in his mind.
“Perhaps the better inquiry should be… what have I not done?”
When he had emerged from the portal, he saw that Mellow had come shortly after him. The poor Charmander was struggling so hard to keep herself from crying, and fled before he could even talk or comfort her. Then he saw his other companions, who had expressions mixed between defeat, concern and blissful innocence. How much he envied the blissful fellows…
“I had… to keep everyone safe. To keep them… safe from those deities, from those daemons, from those unspeakable threats.” He breathed out a chilly cloud, his eyes full of regret. “…And I could not. I was not powerful enough. I was not witted enough. I was… not faithful to my creed and my bloodline.” He lowered his head, making his silver tufts shroud his eyes. “I failed everyone… I could not keep folks safe. I am no hero, but a giant zero.”
Brisa couldn't help but roll her eyes when she was sure the fox wouldn't see. This was definitely how Starr had felt. But at least she could give a go at handling the poor guy's feelings better than Starr had handled hers.
"Doesn't sound like it was your responsibility. There's a reason there's more'n a score of us in the posse. We need to stick together, not any one of us take a burden entirely on their shoulders. Did anyone tell you you were in charge? 'Cause otherwise, it's only you that's holdin' this expectation."
“…No.” Icetales looked again at the Shinx. In his eyes there wasn’t despair anymore, but rather… noble rage? “But I felt I had to step in, for everyone’s sake. Everyone looked so… astray, entangled, jumpy. That poor lad, Sir Owen… he was mentally and emotionally racked, I could tell. And that poor, sweetheart Miss Mellow was not faring much better.”
And then, a sudden burst of determination flared up in his eyes. “So I took it in my paws, exactly like my Kyukon ancestors — the defenders of the defenseless. My physical and magical strength might be lacking, but I felt confident in my wits. I was aiming for a stalemate, for a challenge of brainpower, as we would have been largely outmatched in a physical brawl.”
He sighed and shook his head. “It went as well as thou might guess. And now, well,” he sat on his haunches, “I am at an impasse. I cannot figure out how I can make things up with everyone. I… want all of us comrades to be friends, to be the best team we can become. Is it… too optimistic of me?”
Brisa hadn't the faintest idea what incident this vulpix was describing, but it sure sounded like he was explaining in a longwinded fashion that he'd lost an argument with a powerful pokémon who'd spooked the group he was with. The kicker being that he'd made himself responsible for that group, and taken their emotional distress as a grievous failure. Ah.
"Ah, I'm sure it'll happen," said Brisa, honestly enough. The fella seemed a nice enough sort. "But if you wanna be a team, you gotta stop with this 'defenders of the defenceless' stuff. Everyone on our posse is capable of standin' up for themselves, and you gotta respect that to have any kinda relationship with them. If you treat people like they're fragile, that ain't gonna help 'em be strong."
Feeling bold, she gave the fox a light thump on the shoulder.
"Tell you what. Owen's somethin' of a pal of mine; why don't we see if we can ask his company for a long minute? If you're worried about gettin' along with him, best way to do it's probably a sparrin' match if you're up for it."
"But if you wanna be a team, you gotta stop with this 'defenders of the defenceless' stuff. Everyone on our posse is capable of standin' up for themselves, and you gotta respect that to have any kinda relationship with them. If you treat people like they're fragile, that ain't gonna help 'em be strong."
Icetales listened intently, nodding a few times and his ears flicking occasionally. Hm. There was some truth in her words.
“Ah, that is… a fair argument.” He scratched his ear with a hind paw, assimilating her words. “I do not desire for our comrades to feel like they are being pup-sitted, mind thee. But, um…” He stopped his activity. “The mere thought of someone being in distress because I could not do anything to prevent such thing from happening… alas, that is a recurring torment of mine.”
He closed his eyes and faint flashes zipped in his mind.
Memories of his injured pup self, hidden in a cart towed by a galloping fairy Ponyta. Watching in horror and helplessness as pillars of ice and phantasmic darkness burst out the fountains and the rivers. Goodmons and good ladies were fleeing in terror, begging for mercy to the enraged tyrant and scrambling to find refuge from the rampaging hailstorm.
He was looking for him. He wanted to finish his work. And… the ‘heartbroken he’ could do nothing more but flee from that monster of a father. The ‘heartbroken he’ couldn’t do anything to keep his people safe… expect than by hiding to keep his ‘heartbroken power’ out of his reach.
The ‘heartbroken he’ reopened his eyes and…
The memories faded. Indeed, that was not Borealis anymore, but he could tell that there were still folks in need of help in that brave new world. The only issue is that he had been focusing his energy on the wrong folks: his comrades, who were there to lend their help, not to receive help.
Icetales blinked in realization. “But then… Oh heavens! I was worrying for the wrong reasons! The truth of matters is shining limpidly in mine eyes.” His tails started wagging. His noble heart was pumping with determination, but his target was different. He beamed a grateful grin. “Thou… thou have my gratitude, Miss! Truly! I can see everything with clarity now!”
Feeling bold, she gave the fox a light thump on the shoulder.
Icetales felt a bit awkward for a split second after receiving the little thump, unsure of how to take that. That was… friendly, yes? He beamed a shy smile.
"Tell you what. Owen's somethin' of a pal of mine; why don't we see if we can ask his company for a long minute? If you're worried about gettin' along with him, best way to do it's probably a sparrin' match if you're up for it."
He tilted his head, considering his next words. “Err… Well, I am not opposed to meeting Sir Owen again. Far from it, actually! And, well, I am not quite opposed to duels, either. But, huh… my battling skills are… shall we say, unpolished and crude.” He frowned, appearing unsure. “I would not desire to drag thee down…”
Brisa waved away the concern with a paw. "Nonsense. Training with a more experienced opponent is a great way for a mon to get stronger, or at least more confident! If you're willin' to give it a shot, I'll shoot him a message now. No worries, though, it's all good."
Icetales hummed in deep thought. That Shinx seemed pretty confident, and from her physique and strong muscles, he could tell that she was a seasoned battler. There were also some scars, that looked particularly fresh…
Yikes! I wonder how she got marred in such way…
Hmm. He was still feeling hesitant, but he had to admit an important detail: that was no time for hesitation and fright. Monstrous threats and daemons lurked in the darkness, very eager to strike at any given moment.
He didn’t have the luxury of time: if they could attack, they would, whether he was ready or not. And it surely would have been much preferable to be ready.
Without hesitation, Icetales nodded and his tails started glimmering with frigid power. “Thou have convinced me, Miss. Let us do that!” He raised a paw with renewed confidence. “I shall work hard and do my absolute darndest to become a dependable comrade!”
Brisa weighed up whether to use telepathy or her badge to contact Owen. On the one hand, telepathy reminded her of Jesse. On the other, she still hadn't worked out how to use her badge. She didn't really know why she kept putting it off, but she didn't much fancy figuring it out in front of Keo'Keo. Telepathy it was.
Owen, this is Brisa. Care to meet me and this vulpix fella at the beach for a light beginners' sparring?
She hesitated. ...yeah, go for it.
And I missed you while I was away. I wanna see ya.
Enthusiastic as ever, it seemed. He must have gotten over the recent revelations with Bahamut and Maple quickly, though that was likely in his nature at this point.
It took longer than expected--Charmander legs didn't lend themselves well to crossing towns and following roads for long--but there he came. He was running on all fours, oddly enough, with his tail raised over his back like a Lanturn's angler. "Hey!" Owen said, panting. Once he slowed down, he got on two legs again, wiped down his hands on his scales, and bowed politely to them both.
"Have you been feeling better?" Owen asked, figuring that Brisa had probably needed a lot of rest and recovery after what had happened.
While waiting for Owen to arrive, Icetales had taken the chance to check on a few of his battle notes. He had worked hard in getting those plans on theory, so it was time to apply them on practice.
Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous—he rarely won any duel against his siblings back home, and he didn’t know how he would have performed against more experienced battlers. It was a novelty for sure, but he hoped to come out of that with his bones intact…
Then, he perked up when he heard footsteps on sand, and smiled when the Charmander rushed toward them. The lad seemed in good spirits, for some reason: perhaps they had worked things out with Maple? That made him feel… somewhat comforted, at least.
He reciprocated the bow with grace. “Ah, greetings, good fellow. Fancy meeting thee in this fair day,” he said, wagging his tails and waiting for Brisa’s response.
She'd not been fully ready to see her charmander friend after her cafe trip and prompt crash in the Guild clinic the previous day, but she vaguely recalled offering him an exhausted greeting. She was surprised but... profoundly glad to see his enthusiasm to see her again, all things considered. She returned his bow, and stood with her tail high and ears alert.
"I'm happy to say I'm feelin' better already. Astonishin' what good eatin' and a proper night's rest will do to a mon. I hope y'all weren't frettin' too hard about us the last few days."
"I was hoping we'd find you sooner, but it's good you're here now," Owen said simply. Then, going right to business, he eagerly asked, "So, what was this about sparring? With, um... Icetales, right?" He nodded. "I don't exactly have the strongest attacks, so I'm probably great for sparring against to get the hang of things!"
“That would be accurate, good fellow,” replied Icetales, waving his tails with a slow motion. “I might have multiple virtues tied to my persona, but alas dueling has never been a forte of mine. And, well, considering the dastardly fiends and unspeakable threats we are going to face, I would desire to be… prepared, yes. To not be a major hindrance whenever my assistance might be required.”
He tilted his head and mused over what the Charmander said. “Hm! Yes. I reckon that learning how to better handle fiery attacks might be much useful for yours truly, indeed…”
Fire… on ice…
Despite showing a relaxed demeanor, a chilly feeling had started digging a pit in his stomach.
"Yeah, though if you want it to be a little easier on you, maybe I can start off with, um, you know, something easier?"
Owen closed his eyes, waved his tail behind him, and then shifted colors. Scales to feathers, orange to green, flame to flower--and standing before Icetales was not a Charmander, but something much more in tune with the plants.
"...There," he said, grinning. "Okay, how about we start with some basic attacks first? Brisa, how about you make judgement calls on form? You guys share a body type so you might have an easier time noticing flaws." Then, nodding to Icetales, Owen stepped back a few paces and entered a defensive stance, legs tense and arms forward. "For now, I won't use Protect. Come at me!"
Icetales blinked in surprise. Were his eyes tricking him or did Owen look different?
…Yes, of course he did, but while he knew about some Charmander with green scales, he had never heard of any of them with feathers, nor flowers.
Oh? Is he… a daemon, too? Hmm. But he does not seem to radiate any daemonic malice. I would better inquire about that afterward…
Icetales nodded back and took his place opposite from Owen. He planted his paws firmly to the floor and shook his tails to filter out sand grains. His tails needed to be free, to absorb water from the air more easily.
He took a few deep breaths, releasing small icy puffs and zeroing into his opponent. Lungs cooled down, nostrils flared, tails quivered and produced frost, eyes narrowed, arrogant smirk of a taller Vulpix flashed in his mind…
I shall show thee what I am capable of, Keo’Keo VI!
“…As Her Ladyship would call out,” a determined glint shone in his eyes, “en garde, Sir Owen!”
And then, he howled. A flurry of cold crystals, frigid mist and chilling gales rushed out of his jaws, mixing in with the humid air of the beach and cloaking the sand underneath with hoarfrost. Wintertime was coming on the beach.
Brisa gave a satisfied nod, and took up a position offset from the 'battlefield' to observe. She was familiar with Owen's combat style by now, and eager to see how Icetales fared. Part of her ached to dive in and put her lightning to both of them at once; had it really been four days since she was last in combat? But she restrained herself and her tormented frame to watch attentively.
Much like Owen himself, it seemed that the way he carried himself in battle depended on the mood. Without fighting back being his immediate priority, Owen switched to a defensive battle style, weaving and blocking the attacks that came his way. The icy strikes in particular he knew to be wary of, which conflicted with his core instincts but not the surface ones now that he had switched to Grass.
Several times, Owen pointed flaws or kicked and jabbed at openings that had been made during the fight, and indeed, Icetales was not as experienced in battle as Owen was. It was fair, but what impressed Owen was the determination he thought he saw inn Icetales' movements despite the failures.
To Brisa, this would be a new side to Owen. He never fought like this against her; his movements were more graceful and even, no wild frenzy to it at all. Even the look in his eyes was different--analytical, calculating, serene. He looked so much older.
Soon, a shard of ice nicked Owen on the cheek and he stepped back to gain some distance. "You got me," he commented, running a claw slightly below the wound to inspect the damage. Not much blood, a drop at most, but it was still blood, so he grinned at Icetales. "Nice. I don't think you left a wide opening that time, either. Brisa?"
As much as Brisa loved the roughlander-esque style of her ordinary fights with Owen, she had an appreciation for sophisticated battle styles, and she found herself watching him with as much interest as she did Icetales and his command of ice magic. She'd have to challenge him to a combat dance sometime, when she was in heartier condition.
"I'm impressed," she said, sincerely. "I figured ya mighta been undersellin' yourself somewhat, but even so, that was plenty of spirit you showed just now. You're goin' by Icetales, then? Alright, Icetales, I'd like to see what your moves look like after more practice. It's important to stick to the basics while you're learnin' the ropes. If you want somethin' to focus on, though, then you might wanna try developin' techniques for battlefield control and creatin' fettles, so you can take 'n' hold an advantage over your opponent."
She eyed Owen, and felt her fur spark at the anticipation of a good duel.
"Care to let me give a demonstration, partner?" she asked him, with a fierce smile. "I've got a few moves like that, and I wanna see you dance to 'em."
A faint trail of mist seeped from both jaws and tails, before dissipating completely when the frigid energy and adrenaline receded. He showed a small smile, satisfied with the increased strength and swiftness of his icy breath…
"You got me," he commented, running a claw slightly below the wound to inspect the damage. Not much blood, a drop at most, but it was still blood, so he grinned at Icetales. "Nice. I don't think you left a wide opening that time, either. Brisa?"
"I'm impressed," she said, sincerely. "I figured ya mighta been undersellin' yourself somewhat, but even so, that was plenty of spirit you showed just now.
…but his smile widened into a radiant grin, which was reinforced by his wagging tails. He wasn’t one to gloat about anything, but he felt some pride about himself upon hearing those words from those two more experienced comrades.
“I am most pleased to hear that, good comrades,” he replied with respect, his tails swaying like a pendulum above his back to disperse some frost and cool himself down.
"You're goin' by Icetales, then? Alright, Icetales, I'd like to see what your moves look like after more practice. It's important to stick to the basics while you're learnin' the ropes. If you want somethin' to focus on, though, then you might wanna try developin' techniques for battlefield control and creatin' fettles, so you can take 'n' hold an advantage over your opponent."
Icetales listened intently, his ears oriented toward the Shinx and his brain storing all her suggestions and recommendations. When she was done talking, he nodded.
“Fair, fair. I have been studying and refining a few techniques in these past days, and I have been most eager to test them out.” He smiled. “And yes, I am going by the name of Icetales, but feel free to refer to me as Keo’Keo, if thou prefer so.”
He looked back and forth between the two comrades, waiting patiently for Owen’s response.
