Into the Unown ║ Volkner & Clair
The rock bounced down the passageway, its echoes crackling and intensifying into the emptiness. For Clair, one solid kick wasn’t enough. She needed a larger rock, preferably one in the shape of Lance’s head. After all, it was his fault that she was here in the first place.
‘There’s been reports of vandalism at the Ruins of Alph,’ he’d told her. 'Violet’s police force has been extremely overworked as of late, so could you check this out?’ Clair was ready to give her cousin a big fat NO when he put on his best puppydog eyes. 'For me, please?’ he begged. It was too much for her to bear.
And so she went. Clair hated being sent off to different places to take care of their problems. She had plenty of her own work to do–so why did she have to do theirs? And because it was Lance who’d asked her… He knew she couldn’t say no. As if she could ever resist him.
Clair shoved her hands into her pockets and continued down the abandoned ruins. She found abso-fucking-lutely nothing, not a single trace nor evidence of this so-called vandal.
The walls of the ruins were just as they were left all those centuries ago. Clair stared pointedly at them, failing to remain unimpressed. The strange alphabet was quite something. Its script was like that her clan once used, though it was clear why it was never adopted. Wide eyes stared unblinking at all who wandered their halls. It brought a chill down Clair’s spine. The sooner she finished her search here, the better.
Maybe he was too scared to search the ruins himself, Clair thought, frowning. Leave it to me to pick up your slack, Lance. And so she continued on her way, grumbling and sighing through the Ruins of Alph. Several passages were caved in, and others smelled of miasma. Clair scrunched up her face and clapped her hands over her nose. Definitely not that way.
The longer Clair searched, the more eerie the near-silence became. She longed to be back in her mountains, full of gentle growls and angry roars. Clair stopped when a sound unlike any of caught her attention. All she heard was her own breathing and the water droplets dinking on the rubble below. But then… footsteps, slow and meandering. Whoever was walking did so without purpose.
“He’d have to if he were up to no good,” Clair hissed, loping down the hall. With high knees and a determined gait, she was an Arbok, silent and deadly. It wasn’t long before she saw him. Tall with blond hair, the man peered curiously at something on the ground. Clair crept forward, taking care to not draw attention to herself.
After a moment’s pause the man chose to pick up the box. He tucked it under his arm and began walking away, his pace just as casual as before. Clair wondered how long he’d been there. He didn’t look like a researcher… but he also didn’t appear to be some punk kid tagging his name on the walls, either.
Still suspicious of the man, Clair followed after him. He was like any other tourist; normal, boring. But as he walked past an oil lamp, a light shone from the strange box underneath his arm. The runes on its surface glowed an eerie purple. Clair’s blood ran cold.
What did he do?! She had to do something–strange boxes just didn’t glow. Something was wrong here. Clair steered herself and charged after the man. “HEY! Blondie!” she commanded, her voice resonating down the passage. “Stop where you are!”
The man stopped upon hearing her shouts. He turned and gave her a nonplussed look. Clair stopped just short of him, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced to the glowing box under his arm. It shouldn’t be doing that.
“What did you do?!” she exclaimed, glaring at him. “Put that down! Don’t touch it!”
Volkner was blissfully unaware of the box’s glowing, with the ancient relic tucked securely beneath his arm. It was heavy, though, little tiles shifting inside the box with every step he took. It looked old enough to be important to whoever it belonged to, and though he was, by no means an expert in ancient artifacts -- what knowledge he had was what Buck had shared with him -- it seemed genuine. Something this heavy better have been genuine.
His good intentions didn’t get him far. He’d only barely meandered away when a woman -- or what he assumed was a woman -- shrieked at him from across the hall. Despite nearly jumping out of his skin, Volkner managed to looked unfazed, if not annoyed, with her antics. She was babbling on about something, but with the sheer volume of her voice, he’d lost the meaning. What an annoying girl, he thought. She didn’t seem like the owner of the box, so ultimately she was just someone who needed to learn to mind her own business.
Not that he was much better. When it came down to it, he supposed he could have left the box where he’d found it and let the owner trouble themselves to find it. For all he knew, it had been left their intentionally, though that didn’t make sense to him. Either way, returning it was not his responsibility, and he was really starting to regret picking the damned thing up in the first place.
“What did I do?” Volkner sighed, already thoroughly exasperated. What had he done to deserve this? And why did he have to explain himself to her? His gaze lifted to meet hers, reading the rage in her expression and accusation in her voice. He recognized her. A Johto leader, he thought... Clair, as the name. The Champion’s cousin. He didn’t remember Lance ever being this nosy.
Her intentions were probably good, but it seemed likely she thought him a thief. “What a pain...” he muttered aloud, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Look, this box was discarded deeper in the ruins--” not much deeper “--I figured I’d take it upon myself to return it to its owner.”
Heaving another sigh, he retrieved the box and offered it to her, “if you’d rather do it, then by all means. Saves me ti --” it was only then that he noticed the box was glowing. Intriguing as it was, he was almost certain it wasn’t supposed to be doing that. This didn’t bode well for them.
