With the child tucked into bed and the reassurance that he's deep in sleep and safe after such a long, stressful day, the night goes on, the council of ghosts that have declared themselves his guardians now having an animated, if whispered, discussion, the subject of which cannot be quite made aware of just yet. It is the high season of gym battles once again, and that means the kid is once again overworked and stressed, the perfect picture of panic as fingers get tangled in fabric while he tries to keep what little food he's had in his stomach. Yes, they all agreed to warmly welcome him when his time to join them comes, but the ghosts would very much prefer to see him live some more before that happens, and so a solution is required, preferably sooner. Yes, they're all aware of how demanding this job can be, and they are also aware of how much he keeps clinging to it, but surely there can be something to do to ease everything on him a little?
So their discussion started, trying to find a way to helpβ a way that was soon decided, could not involve a harmless little heart attack or any other ghostly tricks on anyone involved in the league and their leader's matches. That did reduce their list of solutions by a lot.
Eventually a thought does come to them, thoughβ one brought up by their local rotom as he idly played around with electronics and then bounced back to the phone on the table. Surely they can ask someone with expertise in the matter, right?
The question would then be who. Knowing their trainer's sheer anxiety, that quickly ruled out any coworkers in Galar, lest he tries to run away entirely once he finds out about their interference. That, unfortunately, does make the list far smaller than what would be helpful, so few contacts left to scroll through, and even less actually qualified. The chairman is quickly crossed out, far more likely to make things harder than they already are, and most of what's left is just more league people that Allister doesn't really want to ever talk to...
And then a contact from the list is pulled up by the electric ghost. Yes, there was that time they all met another ghost-type specialist, wasn't there? And he's a gym leader as well, who could be more qualified to be on the receiving end of some friendly questions to help?
So they set out to put together a message, both trying to press the tiny buttons themselves and their rotom friend attempting to correct the mistakes and add his own words to it. They... certainly tried, if the garbled message that quickly shows up as received is anything to go by. Well, hopefully it will be read and understood just enough to at least chat? Least with the phone currently possessed it should be doable to start a video call, if need be. They'll figure the rest out, surely.
he is close, so very close to sleep when the cellphone far across the room begins to vibrate against the table it rests 'pon . intrusive thoughts encourage him to ignore it and indeed the first reaction is a grumble, incoherent and barely understandable as he rolls himself to the opposing side of his bed, back firmly turned to the noise .
if it was an emergency, after all, falkner would already be in ecruteak, a firm fist upon the back door .
the buzzing continues, incessant and morty must even find his senses enough to bring a hand up and fold half of his pillow over his head . alas, while he is content to let the phone buzz until it dies and truly leaves him be, he is not alone in the room . it is andrealphus first, lips curled back into a canid snarl as she guides wisps into his body . she, the puppeteer, forces him into motionβ almost mechanical in the way his shoulder twists, guiding the arm to raise as though she tests the waters .
he does naught but expel of a sigh of annoyance, at last letting lids flit open to reveal tired violet eyes, still bleary from exhaustion . body moves beyond his control, and he is all too eager to let another do the work as the ninetales, perched imperiously atop her chair, guides his body . it is a jerky display, one heavy step at a time as she grows accustomed to the possession, and 'tis not overstating it to claim that morty all but falls against the table when she brings him to the phone .
his own lips shift, corners dipping down into a deep-set frown, throwing a displeased gaze over his shoulder and andrealphus as his functions return . the phone screen is bright enough to draw a wince from him, damn near dropping it in surprise as he fumbles with the settings to make it readable at the crisp hour of two in the morning . 'tis tragic then, how long it takes for his brain to catch up with the, frankly, garbled text he's been sent . confusion makes itself plainly writ 'pon his furrowed brow, and no amount of critical thinking ( as critical as he can think at this hour ) can parse what the mess could be .
his free hand raises, snapping onceβ twiceβ and arcing like a bolt, his saving grace appears in a flash, pokemon's face visible for but a moment with its wide grin before it vanishes into the phone .
β zzzztβ! wHat caN i do fOR you ? β
β whatss'it say bud ? can't read it . β
there is a moment as the rotom's face vanishes from the screen, and if he were not aware of the pokemon within, he might fear the graphical glitches upon the screen . it is a moment longer than he expects, before the letters rearrange themselves, spaces being deleted and numbers replaced with their supposed intentional letters, and the rotom's eyes appear once again .
β zzzztβ! heRE yOu go ! β
it's a troubling thing to read, and of course now that he has been awake a few minutes longer than ten, he can process the words and the meaning behind them . if it is a troubling enough situation that even his ghostsβ and oh, how morty does recall how keenly the ghosts cared for him, how allister's very spirit recoiled at the slightest touchβ reach for assistance ? how is he to deny that .
β hey'a bud ... you mind sendin' back a message ? tell 'em i'll be on my way right this minute . t' help, y'know ? β
β zzzztβ! caN DO boSS maN ! β
β oh ... and actually ... y'mind sendin' our dear friend a message ? tell him ... β a hesitation, full body sort where hands cease packing a backpack for a moment as he leverages his options carefully . β would ya' tell him i'll be out 'a region on an emergency ? β
β zzzztβ! messAgE sENt to contaCT: [ YATO ] ! β
