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@blankstation
STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS.
EVENT.
• --- • --- • --- • --- • --- • --- • --- • --- • --- •
Even when we’re on different tracks, as long as we’re headed for the same destination, we trust those tracks will meet again .ᐟ
Pinned Information.
Event Introductory Solo.
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asked my cat if he wanted dinner or the slop that kills him and my twin was like "he can hear you, you know?" and when I looked down at my cat he was like this
Um.. This is a little morbid, but since you mentioned death.. were any cadaver pokemon brought out to look? Just in case?
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Yes. As formality. Nothing so far. I didn’t think there would be anything.
I was there when ... it, happened. I do not wish to talk about it. Any questions regarding Subway Boss Ingo’s profession can go to our staff at Gear Station. Otherwise, the case is still confidential and further details cannot be disclosed. I am Emmet. Thank you for understanding .ᐟ
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It’s so quiet. It’s weird. I don’t like it. Not in the slightest.
Will it always be this quiet .ᐣ I don’t know.
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No! It will not! Because that is the nature of life! And this is not death yet! :D
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It feels like death. It could be death. And I’d have no way of knowing.
... Ahem.
Sorry you had to see that .ᐟ I’m glad to see you smiling.
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asked my cat if he wanted dinner or the slop that kills him and my twin was like "he can hear you, you know?" and when I looked down at my cat he was like this
[It goes without saying that all of their pokémon are struggling. With one of their trainers missing and the other barely holding it together, unable to explain anything to the critters, they're all anxious; some depressed, some irritable. They do their best to maintain focus and follow Emmet's lead, but Engine and Snail especially seem to be having a difficult time. It makes sense. They were more partial to Ingo, after all, even if the twins regularly shared the work of taking care of them all, and traded pokémon between each other for battle. A good few members of their shared party did have preferences to one brother over the other.
A chain reaction started with Engine hovering in one particular spot of the central area of Gear Station, seemingly fixated on nothing. Her flames burned hotter as she flew aimlessly in circles, possibly searching, but never able to take any action, up until she would be inevitably redirected and led elsewhere. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the flooring itself, yet.. It is right around where Ingo's pokéballs were left scattered over the floor.
Engine took to doing this almost every time she was let out within the station. It wasn't a huge issue at first, outside of being incredibly disconcerting, until one day Snail abruptly takes notice to this. Being the smart little mole she is, she seems to draw her own conclusions from the behavior, and immediately, just moments after Engine is ushered away again, he slams his massive claws into the concrete and gets to work. She can decimate this floor if she wants to, and the ruckus of her slashing and drilling with little discretion alarms employees passing by, not to mention probably Emmet himself. She doesn't stop even as various trainers attempt to intervene, she's adamant, growling as she gets a divot into the floor- only to be cut short by getting withdrawn into her ball.
Now there's a mess to clean and a hole to patch.
Maybe it's best that all pokémon stay stored away until they reach the trains.
In the aftermath, Snail sits quietly with Emmet in his office once let out again. There's still grit on his claws. "...." She's curled up in a ball, off to the corner of the room. Bitterness seems to roll off of her in waves, frustrated to have been stopped when she truly believed she was so, so close to getting a lead on Ingo down there.]
[The sun beamed overhead, blotted out by a canopy of green trees. It should be hot out, but with the shade on them and a breeze going, it's very pleasant. Perfect fossil hunting weather!
Ingo and Emmet looked rather different back then; much smaller, scrappier. Back when Ingo was Circe, and Emmet was Linnea. Their hair came down to just above their shoulders, and the pair were dressed in complimentary colored overalls as they scampered through the forest with a wagon in tow, looking for a potential fossil deposit they haven't combed over yet. Eventually, they settled on a creek bed, the water level lower than usual in response to the summer heat.
They didn't like getting dirty all that much. The feeling of mud under fingernails could make either of them cringe, and making too much of a mess would make their parents fuss at them. For the sake of finding their first companion, though, it definitely had to be worth it.
"The book said fossils are usually close to water, yes?" Circe asked, swiping through clumps of mud and rocks, searching. "Why..? Not all fossil pokémon are water types."
"Yes." Linnea replied quietly, smiling over to her. "The sediment," She sat back on the grass, doing a little demonstration with her hands as Circe watches intently. Making a little flowing gesture with one hand, she tries to show how the running water carries sediment over fossils (reprisented by the other) and covers them.
"Oooh.. Right!" Circe chirped, scooping up a new handful of stones to look over. "Then this has to be the perfect spot- I think we'll find one this time! Full steam ahead!"
As the pair continued their search, Circe wound up moving further down along the creek, though the pair remained well within view of one another. Not much seemed to be happening, other than them finding a few particularly pretty rocks, before a rustling sound grabbed her attention. "Hmm...?" Circe got up and dusted herself off, trotting over towards the noise.
"Ah-- Linnea! LINNEA! Look!" She shouted suddenly, voice brimming with excitement. Linnea, of course, got up and scrambled over to see, but only just in time to catch a glimpse of something diving into the dirt. "Oh. I think I scared them.." ...Some things really never changed. Still, she called out again, at least softer this time. "I apologize, drilbur! I didn't mean to scare you."
The dirt shuffled before them for a minute or two. Linnea hugged her sister's arm, trying to comfort her dejected twin, both of them watching intently. Both of them let out a gasp of delight when the drilbur suddenly popped their head back up, blinking at the two suspiciously. "Brrrr?"
"Hello!" Circe's face lit up. Linnea shifted weight between her feet, her free arm swinging back and forth with barely contained excitement. "Why aren't you in a cave? Drilbur don't belong out here." She questioned, entirely unbothered by being unintentionally rocked back and forth by the movement.
"...." Drilbur lifted one arm above the dirt, showing off a marred claw. "Brbrr.." They whined.
Linnea pointed to the injury with a quiet "ow", and Circe nodded.
"You got hurt.. we can help!" Determination twinkled in her eyes, and she looked over to her twin for confirmation, getting an eager nod and smile in response. "We'll take you to the pokémon center! But when we're done, please help us find fossils!"
Drilbur looked between the girls. Their nose wiggled, whiskers twitching. After a moment, they chambered out of their little hole in the dirt and waddled over, peering up at the duo.
"YES-- BRAVO! Yay! Thank you!" Circe shouted again, hands flapping, while Linnea was bouncing up and down on her toes. Drilbur chirped the excitement.
They led the little critter to their wagon. "All aboard!" Their voices synced up as they helped drilbur on. The pair, now a dirt-covered trio, trekked off towards the nearest pokémon center. There, they could heal their new friend, maybe buy a pokéball to put them in, and return to their fossil hunting duties.
As they walked, Circe took notice to how strangely full Linnea's overall pocket was. "Linnea? Did you find something?"
She held her pocket open to reveal the contents.. which was a collection of rocks she'd picked up during her search, all either with interesting patterns, or bizarre formations.".. They are pretty." She murmured with a grin, picking one out and handing it to Circe. Then, she took another and placed it next to drilbur.]
[Snail lets out a loud sigh. Then slowly, he picks his head up to look at Emmet. Underneath the edge of his horn, you can get a glimpse of softness in her eyes, whiskers drooping. She ambles over to the man's side, sitting by his feet instead of the corner. "Wrrr..."
Whatever Emmet was remembering, Snail seemed to be remembering the same thing.]
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[ The rocks upon the sand were gorgeous, but she had known better. She couldn't be sure that her sibling would realize, all caught up in the excitement with her new friend. But the stone in her hands was a deep purple, almost seeming to engulf the sunlight with shadow like a black hole. The stone still hidden in Linnea's pocket sparked in her grasp, still charged from the waves that crashed over it.
The little orb handed over to the Drilbur was almost perfectly round, glowing with an orange inner ring.
They would be perfect for them, she thought. And perfect they were. ]
... I’m sorry.
( he laughs, wiping his eyes dry with his arm. caught acting so unprofessionally when there's people to make smile.
when he has pokémon to make smile. )
I’m being such a downer, huh .ᐣ I’m fine .ᐟ Promise.
( he reaches down, running has hand along the horn on snail's head. the cold steel seeping through his glove nearly makes him tear up again ... how silly of a thing to get worked up over. )
Sorry about having to cut your line short back there, too. But the money for the repairs is coming out of my own pockets. Not to mention how much of a safety hazard it is.
( his tone is deceptively light as he gives snail a few more pats, before sitting back up. from on his desk wuppertal squacks at him inquisitively, head tilted to the side. he likes to be above the ground, but no longer fits on emmet's head. seriously! emmet didn't know he'd grow to be that huge.
he reaches over to pet the archeops' head, his smile and sigh wistful. )
[ “Oof — .ᐟ” Linnea went crashing to the ground, the walk back home completely disrupted. Mom is totally gonna ask how she managed to get the entire front of her white (but mostly stained) outfit caked in dirt. From in front of her was an alarmed call of her name, and behind her was a worried squeak. “I’m okay .ᐟ” she’d assured, though her knees hit the ground hard.
She gripped onto her sibling’s hands, the support allowing her to stand up. She was busy brushing her knees off and wincing at the sting, when the little Drilbur behind her seemed to ... cry? “What’s wrong.ᐣ” Circe had asked, tilting her head like some sort of bird. Drilbur lowered his snout, remorseful.
“Oh .ᐟ” Linnea skipped over to where the Drilbur was half-buried in the dirt. “Were you the thing that tripped me .ᐣ It’s fine .ᐟ It’s just an accident.” The Pokémon peeked out a bit more, seemingly reassured, though the child peered closely at her paws. “What’s that you got there .ᐣ”
Drilbur lifted the item between his paws up and out of the dirt, showing it off with a smile. Linnea didn’t have to look over it twice to know that it was the fossil she had been looking for. ]
I’ll be okay.
—【 @bravo-ingo｡ 】
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It’s so quiet. It’s weird. I don’t like it. Not in the slightest.
Will it always be this quiet .ᐣ I don’t know.
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Ah. It appears I have been overworking myself. I didn’t even realize .ᐟ
It’s not the same without —— without him here to pull me away from my work ...
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( alone, he takes off his gloves and wipes his eyes dry.
nothing feels real. nothing feels real, so why does it still hurt so much? it —— it shouldn't. he's strong. it's fine. it's fine if he says it's fine, so ...
no, no. that's a lie. it's not that he's fine, it's that he has to be fine. because if he's not fine he can't work, and if he can't work he has nothing and he can't allow that he can't fail ingo when he's still ——
he doesn't know what to do. he's a subway boss, but he doesn't know how to lead. he's never known how to be himself. ingo always got him, always knew what he needed even when emmet himself didn't ...
he sounds pathetic when he can't quite stop the sob he chokes out, burying his face in his sleeve.
what ... is he to do? )
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Wait what? What happened?
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. . . Ingo has departed the station.
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( @j0nathand0e )
Are…
Are you okay? I’ve been hearing the news…
Not everyone can see ghosts like you, I don’t think he’s okay!
// purple text is a ghost. If acknowledged, your muse can see ghosts.
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I am Emmet. I ...
( he can't say he's okay, truthfully. because he's not. he's been in a stupor, like none of it has quite been real. it doesn't feel real. )
I am a Subway Boss. It is my job to make sure everyone smiles .ᐟ I will be okay.
I think.
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etoile ☆ .
this is so funny btw. sorry volo the narrative is doomed
[In-person scene.]
[... Cold.
It's very cold.
The first thing to register for him is that there's a layer of snow piling atop him, melting into his body heat and soaking his clothes with ice water. The second thing would be an intense ache encapsulating his entire body, like he just got run over. Pain hammers against the inside of his skull, drowning out most capacity to think.
The sun is nauseatingly bright when he opens his eyes just barely. Sluggish and waterlogged, he drapes a heavy arm over his face, stiff joints aching in resistance.
He should get up before this snow gets him. The tip of his nose and fingers seem to be numb, but that fact is lost amidst most of his discomfort.
He's tired, though. His eyes close again.
Snow crunches somewhere in the distance, drawing nearer. Then, a shadow cascades over the light pressing at his eyelids, allowing him some relief. Albeit, only briefly.
"Nee wa?"
"Gh-"
A warm, wet tongue brushes over his cheek. His face scrunches, as much as it can when mostly numb, eyes slowly blinking open again.
"Nee?! Sneas!" Suddenly, his face is being licked furiously. The sandpaper tongue is rather unpleasant, and he can't even see what exactly he's being licked by other than it's very large and purple.
"Pleasshtop that--" He slurs, finding that there's a deep rasp in his voice; Something you'd hear only out of someone who hasn't spoken for days. His vocal chords itch.
"Sneaslr! Nees snee." Suddenly, he's being lifted out of the snowbank. He's so drenched that he can hear the creature let out an audible grunt of effort, draping him over its shoulder.
He might get eaten, it seems. He.. doesn't have much of the energy to really worry about it right now, though. He drifts off.]
[Days pass.]
GHOST STATION.
EVENT SOLO.
( tick. tock. tick. tock.
the steady ticking tells him time is passing. the voices and footsteps that have drifted in and out inform him of that, too. there is a world passing by. and yet he remains still.
there is no job to do. there is no one to talk to. ingo is gone.
ingo is gone.
gone. what a funny word. here one moment. vanished the next. not just on a split track, but entirely derailed.
like getting off at a ghost station. perhaps he could follow en route. perhaps he could search for a set of rails with an unknown destination.
but that was always ingo's thing. emmet is not an idealist —— he only sticks to what he knows.
he does not know where ingo is.
he does not know what time. what place. where to.
he does not know why he left. where he left. how he left. he does not know if there is a station for ingo to arrive at. he does not know if their tracks will join again. he does not know if their tracks can join again.
he does not know for what reason he smiles.
what he does know is that he
is
alone.
ingo is gone. and he is alone. )
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GHOST STATION.
EVENT SOLO.
( tick. tock. tick. tock.
the steady ticking tells him time is passing. the voices and footsteps that have drifted in and out inform him of that, too. there is a world passing by. and yet he remains still.
there is no job to do. there is no one to talk to. ingo is gone.
ingo is gone.
gone. what a funny word. here one moment. vanished the next. not just on a split track, but entirely derailed.
like getting off at a ghost station. perhaps he could follow en route. perhaps he could search for a set of rails with an unknown destination.
but that was always ingo's thing. emmet is not an idealist —— he only sticks to what he knows.
he does not know where ingo is.
he does not know what time. what place. where to.
he does not know why he left. where he left. how he left. he does not know if there is a station for ingo to arrive at. he does not know if their tracks will join again. he does not know if their tracks can join again.
he does not know for what reason he smiles.
what he does know is that he
is
alone.
ingo is gone. and he is alone. )
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—【 @bravo-ingo｡ 】
( the last of the trains have all made their final rounds, each now lined up in nimbasa city's gear station. the same time, same place, emmet points and calls, and the doubles line comes to a stop. he'd tip his hat to the driver before heading off, heels clanking against metal before he leaps out the door and onto the yellow line.
gear station is closing for the day, all the lights out except for a few yellow bulbs way above. they illuminate the copper walls and tiled floor, bathing the station in a dim, warm glow. it's beautiful. he's always thought so, more like home than home itself.
his radio isn't necessary at closing; ingo is just as punctual as he is, surely stepping into the station to clock out for today. at the same time as always, in the same way as always, emmet raises his arm high above his head to wave in ingo's direction. once all their employees are out, they'll be homebound. )
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[As much as their break was sorely needed, Ingo was grateful to be back to his job. It's one of the things he loves most, after all; the simple joy of battling is part of what keeps him going, even through stress, even as everything else seems to be out of control. Unfortunately, today was a very uneventful day, maybe even a record low for them in recent years. As expected, really..
He steps out into the station with a sigh. Gear Station becomes unlike itself at this hour. All the noise and bustle is gone, and the bright lights are shut off. There are a few dispersing footsteps as the last of the employees scatter, and the only real ambiance is softly ticking clocks and a faraway hum. It gives his nerves, usually alight with excitement from the day, a moment to start to settle down before he has to go. This time, it isn't exactly needed, but the peace is still welcomed. He glances towards the Doubles Line entryway, easily finding Emmet with how his white uniform practically glows in this lighting. He waves back, headed over his way.]
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( something about merely being waved at fills him with excitement, an appreciation for what he has in his life just by seeing the other. it's so inexplicable, but it's been with him all his life —— an overflowing joy just being near the most important person to him.
maybe it's a bit much. spending decades glued to someone's side. but how else is he supposed to express how grateful he is? he could use all the words in the world, and it probably wouldn't be enough. a happiness so strong it's nearly overwhelming ...
point is. he's overjoyed to see ingo, even if they talked over the radio less than an hour ago. )
Ingo .ᐟ All ready to clock out .ᐣ
( being off the clock means he can drop his peofessionalism. he shifts his weight onto his toes, energy barely contained.
overhead, for just a moment, the lights flicker. emmet blinks. oh well! he'll deal with that later. tomorrow. )
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[He smiles just a tiny bit at Emmet's excitement, eyes lighting up. They've had this same routine for years now, and it never seems to get old for either of them. Maybe some people would be sick of it by now, but for him, he believes he could be content doing this for the rest of his life.
..There is, something, a bit weird in the air, he notices as he makes his way across the open floor; some kind of icy chill, permeating even through his coat and button-up. Of course, it's likely just the weather, especially now that winter is in full swing. An interior made mostly of metal and concrete can become freezing on a moment's notice, and luckily, Ingo tolerates the cold plenty. However.. he can't quite shake the odd feeling. The cold is pestering. It's like there's static in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck is standing on end. He tries to brush it off.
"Yes!" He chirps. "It's been such a long time since it's been this slow, hasn't it? I suppose it'll take a while before things get back to normal." A small shiver. "It's awfully cold tonight..." Ingo remarks, almost uncharacteristically soft. He's just a few feet shy of joining Emmet's side, when the lights darken, and Ingo trips and stumbles on something.
And he falls.
He doesn't hit the floor like he's supposed to. His legs seem to go right past it, into some sort of dim, blue vacuum below. "--!" He doesn't get a chance to think about it- he lurches forward, catching himself on the edge where the floor meets the vortex before more of his torso vanishes. He digs his fingers into the floor, but his gloves prevent any good traction, he's slipping, it's like he's being actively pulled rather than only falling. Emmet is right there. He needs to call to him, and he can't. His vocal chords constrict in his throat as he's pulled lower and lower no matter how much he clings on. He thinks he's kicking for some kind of purchase, but he can't seem to feel his legs or waist and suddenly his grip slips.
"Hh--!"
Ingo dips beneath the earth, and the portal swallows him whole, in the amount of time it took for the lights to flicker briefly.
There's a dull clatter. His pokéballs, occupied by their resting companions, are seemingly left behind.]
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For once, I’m not complaining. My mind is cluttered enough as-is without battle tactics flooding the station.
( emmet laughs to himself, all but skipping ahead. it's been ... hectic, definitely. ingo has been trying his best to keep it together, and emmet ... well, emmet's been doing his best to pretend everything is fine. can't smile if you're stressed out of your mind. ingo may be taking on the burden, but he knows his brother understands. he knows him better than anyone.
when the lights go out, he doesn't think anything of it; someone must have closed the last lights for the day. it's dark, the pale moonlight flooding in through the windows and door, leaving the station in a wintry blue. dust catches on the light, illuminated in a way that's oddly beautiful. )
Don’t let the people up North hear you say that, Ingo. They’ll start complaining about how we’re at Route 4.
( emmet takes a step towards the exit, but his footstep merely echoes in response. ehh ... did he go on ahead by accident? )
Ingo — .ᐣ
( figure framed with moonlight and lonely specks of dust, he turns around to look at ingo.
like the frigid breeze billowing against his coat, he freezes. a scattered set of pokéballs are all that meet his gaze. )
. . . Ingo .ᐣ
( he calls into the cold, and his shadow merely stares back.
for the first time, he is alone. )
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