From the Vast

Chapter 32: Anticipation

Who knew there was so much to discuss with such a vague plan?

Anne's thirst might've only lasted two cups of Vivian's tea, but the adults' desire to discuss everything they could in advance lasted way longer. Despite being kept in the loop about what they were talking about, Anne paid less and less attention over time, except for the few occasions where one of the three sent a concrete question her way.

She barely knew anything more than them about Lillywood specifically, but the much more ineffable experience of just being human sure came in handy, too. Mostly through the simple, vague advice—as long as you look like you know where you're going, most people won't bother you too much. Wear Mrs. Graham's coat to cover yourself with, and maybe a hat to either obscure the crest or disguise it as an accessory.

The few articles of clothing or accessories she'd seen that were based on the Ralts line were mostly fake Gardevoir masks or wigs, but wearing a fake Gallade crest wasn't inconceivable, either.

Stick to the sides of the sidewalks, and only use sidewalks. The easiest way to get singled out as a weirdo or someone who doesn't belong is to walk on the asphalt—that was just for cars. The associated question of 'could a Gallade survive a car collision with their strength' remained unspoken, and—hopefully—undetected. Further tips: street crossings, red and green lights, keeping Sage and Yaksha close to Marco to sell the idea of them being 'his' mons.

The combined advice ought to be enough to get Marco through this without causing a scene. Sure, people would stare at him and the ghosts beside him, but ultimately he'd just come off as a weirdo trainer—a cross-section of the two groups that accounted for at least a third of the latter—but nothing more sinister than that.

And if need be, Sage could probably advise something on the fly, too.

With the trio further into the tea corner getting all the advice Anne could think of, the girl withdrew further into her thoughts as her friend chatted with the gooey dragon. As much as she appreciated the idea of the mission to try reuniting the ghost girl with her family, the refusal to consider the most likely outcome of a worst-case scenario kept digging into her conscience.

She tried hinting at the topic a few times as the adults chatted amongst themselves, her whispers towards the lil' Phantump accomplishing exactly jack. Sure, she never stated it overtly, but she hoped that her questions about whether her mom would be happy to see her would've made something click in Sage's head. Alas, nothing.

Nothing but an unerring faith in her parents, the kind that life just cannot resist shattering with all the violence imaginable.

Anne wished she didn't have to be the one trying to pick at the younger girl's hopes, that one of the adults around her acted the part and confronted her about this, but... nobody did. Suppose if the worst comes to pass she'll hurt a lot, yes, but then she'll have them all back at the village to recover after that. It was a hope that was equal parts comforting and infuriating; the latter forcing the human to forcibly switch tracks of her train of thought lest it'd explode into the world's most impotent desk slam.

She had to go through that; Ember had to go through that—why Sage? She didn't deserve this; Ember didn't deserve this. Anne had only managed to extend that thought to herself very few times, but with the anger providing her all the distraction she'd need, today was exactly one such occasion.

None of them deserved this!

It was much too late for her and Ember, but it wasn't for Sage; the girl still had time to be spared from it, but nobody would help her! Maybe nobody could. Maybe nobody was strong enough to plunge that scarring blade deep into the girl's psyche with the knowledge of how much pain they'd be inflicting. Less than Sage finding out the hard way—much less—but still an immense amount.