I met my boyfriend soon after I woke up.
Half buried in the frozen snow of Hisui, I had opened my eyes to a clear night sky, with nothing to my name but my clothing and said name. I was a blackboard, cleaned of the chalk that had marked out my life for any passenger to learn from. And so I found myself wandering the Icelands, holding my coat as close to my body as I could to fend the cold.
As the sun began to find its way over the horizon, I was beginning to feel that my time was up. The dress shirt I wore did nothing to keep me warm, and the high collar of my coat could only keep the wind out, as the snow began to ekans its way over them. And so, as the sun rose, I prepared for that to be my final sight. And it would've been a beautiful sight, had I not seen a wide-built figure in silhouette.
I tried to call out to him, I believe, but my voice wasn't as loud as I was so sure I could get. But even with my own whistle being impotent in the moment, he still saw me, and began to make towards me, calling out to me in a strange language.
I was dying, I was so sure. The man who found me was wearing only a pair of pants and accompanying boots, his entire torso bare and shining in the son. Between that absurdity and the language that he was speaking, I was sure that I was hallucinating. And so, when he finally approached, I collapsed into his arms and prepared to meet with Death, for he sent to me an Angel to collect.
I awoke in the healer's tent some days later, though I had to be told of the passage of time, since my hypothermia had nearly caused my engine to seize. The language the woman spoke was still foreign to my ears, never quite sounding correct, and the sounds that came from my own mouth seemed just as foreign to them. Yet, despite this great divide between our stations, she still saw fit to feed me, to warm me at her fire, and to ensure that I could survive.
After another day, she let me out of the tent, where I was allowed to wander the village under her supervision. There was little we could do to communicate, outside of her gesturing towards an object or place, and firmly saying its name to beat it into my head like a smith on their anvil. I also slowly met others, with the adults being wary of this stranger in black and offering only smal, slow greetings, and the kids throwing out all safety checks to excitedly, and far too quickly, question me.
But that slowly died down after even the first day once people realized I couldn't speak with them. The only ones to continue to associate with me were the old healer, another older woman who was a warden over a Noble in the mountains, and a younger woman, supposedly the leader of this group. They would take turns leading me around the village, gauging my reaction to their life, seeking for any spark of familiarity. It seems even with our language divide, they had found my amnesia.
Eventually I gathered their names; the old healer was Calaba, who was normally stationed in the marshlands but spent the winters here with the rest of the Clan; the other woman was Shiki, who spent a lot of time traveling between the mountain in the center of the region and the Clan camp to help with holy pilgrimages; and finally was Lady Irida, the young leader of the Clan who had taken over for her mother after she passed away. Very important people to this community, and they chose to spend their time helping me acclimate. I was blessed not only by the Almighty Sinnoh, but by the Lordly Palkia and Dragon of Ideals to be with them.
But it was a few more days before the Dragons worked their ways, and brought him back to me. Lady Irida told me that his name was Gaeric. He was her cousin, you see, and he had helped to raise her after her mother grew ill, and eventually passed on by the time both were grown. He was a kind and caring person, his entire barrel of a chest filled to bursting with love and adoration for those in the Clan. And it was that care that made him bring me, a hypothermic foreigner, straight to camp, to ensure that I could live.
I couldn't get myself to face him. His handsome aura was blinding. I hid myself away from him until I was lifted to his station, to being a Warden. For, some time later, around 7 or 8 months into my being with the Pearl Clan, Shiki passed away in her sleep. And as her apprentice, I was chosen by Irida and the elders as her replacement. But even still, I couldn't get myself to talk to him. About how he made me feel.
It wasn't until after my failure with the other Warden stationed in the Highlands that I confessed to Gaeric. That I told him that, since he had saved me from the snow that fateful dawn, I had been enamored by his beauty and his strength. And, miraculously, like Lord Palkia itself smiled upon that moment, he reciprocated. He told me that he found me... at endearing when I had first arrived, but my dedication to others and fearlessness around Pokémon caused him to begin to develop feelings of his own towards me.
I don't think we could've made it work in the long term. We simply were too distant, with me on the mountain top and him buried deep into the icelands, but for the brief time that we were together, we felt that we had a good time. Our love wasn't tarnished for our disagreements on how to handle Clan matters, nor was it diminished when I began to work with Galaxy. Simply, we realized that despite our own attraction...
We weren't made for each other. And that is ok. Your partner right now isn't always your partner for life, and trying to force that fact can be more detrimental to everyone around you than simply accepting that fact and feeling sad. For even when you know and acknowledge it won't work, it is still sad. I still grieve for my love lost with Gaeric, just as I grieve for his life now that he has passed on. But I celebrate the love we shared, just as I celebrate the space I was able to share with him, and those of the Pearl Clan.
