Dare | Volkner & Flint
stxrshock:
Snow. God he fucking. Hated. The snow. Out of all the places Flint could’ve decided to want to drag him away to – the Battle Zone, Canalave, hell, even Iron Island or deep into the belly of Mt. Coronet, he wouldn’t have minded. But of all the damn places Flint just has to spew from his flapping gums – as they alway were – no, it had to be Snowpoint, way up north. Snowpoint, yes, where Candice is. But y’know what else is in there? It’s right in the name, genius; it’s snow. Wading through miles and miles of it giving loose like quicksand underneath you, only it wasn’t as dense, but it was fucking cold, until your nose was red and you’d faceplant right into the stuff and it wouldn’t stop falling.
Just. Take a moment and think about it. Volkner was always raised around the waterside – Vermillion, the Sevii Islands for a change, and Sunyshore. Just what about that screamed ‘god, I love the snow’? None of it. And Flint, as always, was a damn fool for even remotely thinking that it was a good idea. But this was Flint we were talking about – not the hottest ember among the coals, now – and despite the quick and obvious ‘no’ that had escaped from Volkner’s lips as his immediate gut response, Flint followed up without missing a beat. “Nonsense! Now pack your things and dress up warm, it’s gonna be cold out there.”
Volkner barely had time to throw on his petticoat and a hat before he was drug out the door, and now look where they were. Considering the recent pickup of the foreboding weather ahead, they couldn’t even use any of their Pokemon to Fly them there. So now they had to walk and wade through the increasingly-awful blizzard conditions because, again, this was Flint we were talking about, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even despite the fact that the weather reports warned that it was advisable to stay inside until the storm had passed, the many people of Snowpoint who had asked Flint to investigate only saw it as an ill omen, and of course any adventure that takes Flint more than twenty minutes usually involved Volkner being drug along. So yes, here they were, wading through the snow and slog of worsening weather – ill-advised weather – but you may be asking yourself ‘why? Why would Flint do this? What’s the need to drag himself and his friend through miles and miles of snowed-in territory in the middle of a blizzard of all things?’
The answer to that was… interesting, to say the least; after all, Flint had been commissioned by the people of Snowpoint, as well as the League Council to investigate a certain amount of distress from deep within the sacred Snowpoint Temple. Normally a job left for Candice, she instead was sent to investigate some certain stirrings in Lake Acuity, and was called away. Now, the Council knew very well that it was difficult for Candice to have to balance two Legendaries all by her lonesome – after all, Volkner was commissioned to look after both Azelf and Giratina; however, this was never done without the assistance of Crasher Wake and Flint – so instead, members of the Elite Four (usually Flint, in his… boundless eagerness) would opt to take care of some of her burdens – now being one of those times. What was heard inside of the Temple was the sound of the usually-statuesque Pokemon within it awakening, and the fear arose that the Pokemon, while supposedly docile in nature, could cause harm should it choose to find its way out of the temple, and terrorize the people of the city.
That’s where Flint – and now of course, with Flint, always came Volkner – became involved. Their mission was to enter the temple and investigate the cause of the Legendary Pokemon’s distress, and promptly go to quell it. Considering the words they’d received beforehand from the Council, their best bet, as they were told, was to faint the Pokemon. And considering Flint’s proficiency, and his Pokemon’s high levels, he was tasked to be able to confront the Pokemon, and take it down as quickly as possible, giving it the least chance to be able to escape and wreak havoc.
And that situation was all well and peachy, but then there was this cold they had to go through, with visibility so low Volkner could only make out the faintest red splotches of the frosty pouf of Flint’s curly hair. He could hardly make out any features, no outline, only the smear of red-and-brown that was Flint’s ever-recognizable afro, and his parka. Volkner was much less prepared for the weather, his wardrobe consisting of nothing at all fitting for the snow. Instead, he could only bundle and bundle in many many layers of his light clothing, and top it all off with his black fleece petticoat and a weak excuse for a golf hat that was now more of a hinderance in the frigid winds than any sort of asset to speak of. One gloved-up hand reached out and clasped onto Flint’s for some semblance of something to make out between the crunches of snow without feet to look at, and the miles and miles of sheer, sheer white before him. The other held onto that damn hat of his. Part of him really wondered how much the thing was really worth it; wondered if he could just lift up his fingertips from atop his head for the briefest of moments, and let it flit away in the gusting wind, disappear into the gray skies and the flurry and never have to worry about it again. But still, by sheer instinct, he supposed, he held onto the thing, and held onto Flint.
He had said something, loud enough to try to be heard past the whistling wind that consumed all the sound that could’ve entered his ears. Volkner could only hear the staccato of his chuckle – a joke for a punchline he must have missed. He didn’t quite care for it; he could have all the time to care once he’d be on the linoleum floors of Snowpoint’s Pokemon Center, with some warm coffee and the briefest flash of the foregone idea that he could ever be warm again. But, of course, that could only ever be if they could get out of this cold and make it there, and already, Volkner was beginning to have his doubts; he could hardly feel the fingertips that gripped onto Flint’s, and despite the other’s natural warmth, it did nothing out in the middle of nowhere.
But soon he was being tugged along, an excited laugh escaping Flint, loud enough for Volkner to hear, as if he’d struck gold. The two of them struggled to find fast enough footing to move any quicker than a snowbound straggle before finally – God finally – they reached the plowed snow of the city that they could actually put their feet on and not have them sink down knee-height. Snowpoint. At last, Snowpoint, the sky still gray and the flurry still falling fast; but with the trees that ever-surrounded the city, it fell slower now; they could see. He gave a tight squeeze of Flint’s hand, looking to him before eying the warmth of the Pokemon Center; however, Flint’s eyes were trained solely on the ancient, ethereal temple before them. Volkner could only sigh; it was all gung-ho from here, wasn’t it? No stopping now; no time for breaks. Flint immediately tugged on his hand and jerked him forward towards the great, white-powdered doors of the temple, his grin wide and his body shaking with his excitable energy. Now Volkner, he was shaking as well but… for a different reason, certainly. His entire body wracked with shivers, and looking into the temple, well, there didn’t seem to be any warmth to speak of. He heaved a sigh; no reprieve here, it seemed, and Flint didn’t appear to have any want to turn back and take a break. After all, he wasn’t cold, unlike Volkner. He adjusted his scarf wrapped around his neck, pulling it up over the bridge of his nose so his hot breath could ghost back to him, and when Flint sent out his Infernape, Volkner followed suit with Radar.
“Y’ready for this, Volk?” Flint asked, his grin and ambitions wide. His hand tightened around Volkner’s, and he looked to him with that same determination he was always known so well for. His hand slipped from Volkner’s only to slap him on the back, a tad too harshly, as always.
Volkner rubbed the sore spot as best as he could, his mobility and reach greatly restricted by his clothes. “No… I’m not actually,” he heaved a sigh, his breath ghosting out in a long misty wisp that might as well have held his very soul with it, “but it’s not like I can turn back now, huh? Just wish…” he rubbed his hands together, “wish I could’ve warmed up a little bit after that hell of a blizzard; probably gonna catch a cold at any rate.” He looked to Flint with a mildly disappointed expression in his eyes, a typical gaze Flint was more than used to. “You owe me for this.” He said, curtly. “Drug my ass all the way out here in Snowpoint through a blizzard to fight a goddamn goliath… You owe me hot coffee for a week.”
His laugh carries out and down the corridor of the temple, echoes long after he’s finished. Volkner only wants coffee for a week? It’s hilarious really and is doable but coffee of all things? He shakes his head and tromps down the stairs and reaches the first floor of the icy tomb. It’s slick in some places and he has to be careful where he steps due to patches of black ice lingering here and there.
