Whispers in the Dark「Pokemon Fanfiction」

Tᴡᴇɴᴛʏ﹣Nɪɴᴇ • Sɪɴ Oғ Hᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ

She was annoyed by the constant pair of eyes boring through her back—and thus, she spun around when Ryou couldn't see them, confronting Quinn and not even trying to hide her tired expression. "What is it?"

The carrot-haired girl answered with a tilt of her head, craning her neck upwards and responding with a blank gaze, unreachable emotions swimming in the depths of these hazel pools and summing up to an overall look of disinterest.

"I'm not good with offering advice to people," she scoffed. "I'm too young—that's why I told you to make the pale-haired boy feel better. If he's still feeling down...did you make a mistake or something? As much as I dislike you, you seem like the type to be able to deal with things like this."

A sheepish smile crossed her face, and she decided to ignore the comment about being disliked—she'd taken into account what Ryou had said, after all, and it was natural that both of them needed some time to get accustomed to each other.

"I made a mistake," she replied, an air of distractedness hanging about her. "I shouldn't have confronted him about the problem. Sorry."

Both of them fell quiet once again, having nothing to say to each other—and besides, she was still a little out of it. Between the gloomy shroud cloaking the group and the information the voice—no, the Meowstic had just shared with her, she, like her two friends, had lost the will to speak.

Despite the hours that had passed, she still couldn't believe that her cryptic replica and the cruel feline that had kidnapped her were one—sure, the clone she'd seen in the mirror had been an enigma, lecturing her about equality and giving her those strange flashbacks, but she hadn't been bad. She'd helped Celeana when she needed it.

So how could this be? As far as she'd remembered, memories of the Meowstic was associated with nothing but glimpses of hatred and pain and fear—well, it was reasonable for her to have been scared of her clone as well as the twisted Pokemon.

The uncanny quietness she'd heard in the creature's voice was yet another question thought up in her mind—as far as she knew, the figure that the Pokemon had role-played had been outspoken and mocking—that was the meekest tone she had by far heard her speak in.

A frown tugged at her lips on instinct—the fact that the catlike Pokemon had chosen to remain silent for the past couple of days was puzzling as well. The coordinator had tried to reach out to the replica once, but she was met with nothing but silence.

"Snap out of it," a voice called, and she jerked her head up to meet with Ryou's amethyst eyes. He brushed a silver lock of hair out of his eyes, and nodded to the scene in front of her. "We've arrived at Mossdeep."

Celeana startled, and she shot the boy a chastened nod before crossing into the city, taking a look at her new surroundings—from the small cottages matching the peaceful atmosphere perfectly to the salty breeze that blew over the sandy glimpses of beach at the town's edges.

"Oh," she started, but stopped once again as a much missed—not missed, but needed—voice formed an arcane whisper in her ears, the snarky cynicism so strong that it made the girl wonder if the vulnerableness she'd heard a few days ago was nothing but a hallucination.

"Ignore what I told you then," she snarled in an angry voice—it was an emotion that was more raw and genuine than she'd ever spoken. "That was a mistake. Yes, I am the Meowstic, but no matter now. You will listen to me. You will forget."

A smug innuendo was laced in between the subtle venom in her tone, and it was something that made the coordinator cautious—as if the Pokemon was talking about something past that incident. "You will forget," she repeated. "Oh, not about the incident, by the way. About yourself—just for a moment, don't worry."