// Offscreen post, taken from a roleplay with @thatfailedpokemontrainer
CW: Death, terrorism, Large-scale disasters, In-depth descriptions of dead bodies.
Check the tags for any additional content warnings!
Sprite sighed. The alarm clock tethered to hotel wall by a cord that had split wires on either end mocked him, the red light flaring out in a way that made the numbers illegible. After a bit of blinking and squinting he was able to read '11.02PM' in bright analogue letters.
It was probably time for 'bed'. Or Paris sleeping while he sat up on his phone for hours, wasting as much time as he could.
Making the journey across the dingy room he flicked the light off, the lack of a protest being his approval. He sat down in his makeshift bed on the floor, his legs ached from a couple of steps, the cold seemed to stretch out the pain, intensify it. Paris would insist on him having the bed if he brought it up even once. No. He gets this.
He waited for Paris's breathing to slow, to become rhythmic and audible before he got out his phone, but it didn't. Theres a certain electricity in the air, lying a few feet away from someone, another living breathing thinking person. Someone who knows you're awake too. It can't of been more than 5 minutes before Sprite broke the silence.
"You still up?"
The room stayed silent for another beat, finally broken by blankets rustling. "Yeah, still up," Paris replied, pulling the blankets back over himself before the warmth could slip away now that he was sitting up.
Looking down at the floor, he could just barely make out the silhouette of Sprite laying on the floor. It really shouldn't be sleeping on the floor, but if that's what was comfortable for it right now, who was he to argue?
…Was it really comfortable, though? The heating in this hotel was fickle at best, and the nights in Opelucid were always cold, weren't they? He realized now that he should probably ask, but clearly Sprite had wanted to say something as well… Too late. He'd have to ask later.
"Why? Something up?" Paris added before he could interrupt with his own questions, glancing away to focus on something else, like running his fingers against the hem of the blanket.
The glow of faint red light illuminated the form of Paris in the darkness. Paris.
Something was wrong, and not with Sprite. But poking the ursaring again would ruin things for the both of them. He needed to be careful.
It urged itself to speak. The easy stuff would come first. Lying is always easy.
"Today was pretty alright. I've been feeling better… I think we should be good to travel tomorrow, get the hell out of here y'know."
A pause. The electricity in the air around him made it feel hard to breathe all of a sudden. Sprite persisted.
"… And. I was just. y'know. I've seen how you've been acting since we got here. I just. Wanted to say you can talk to me about it if you want."
The gentle rubbing stopped, having instead turned into a tight grip as Paris sighed. "Yeah.. yeah. I know. And I'm sorry for not saying anything." Truth be told, he still didn't want to have this conversation. He never said it out loud before.
Of course, there was an unspoken understanding between him and Lumi, one born through shared experiences. It was somewhat nice, being understood without having to say anything.
Really, he shouldn't have been as affected as he was. At least, that's what he always told himself. It had been years, and it wasn't like he was the only person who had it bad! In fact, his experience was comparatively better than most others'. He shouldn't be upset.
Why couldn't he get over it? Ignoring it hadn't worked. Leaving it- and everything- behind hadn't worked either. What was left?
Sprite drew his legs up to his chest, clenching its jaw.
Was it worse to try and coax the truth out of Paris with more sappy remarks he wasn't feeling or give him an easy way out, leaving their relationship in the same tense and weird place it was more often than he wanted to admit
There was no good outcome here. Nothing that would leave it satisfied.
This isn't about me.
"…"
Paris took the silence as a sign to go on, thankfully, and cleared his throat. “It must’ve been.. 2017? No.. 2018, I think. Around this time of year, actually…” he trailed off, thinking about his next words carefully. “Team plasma came back, a second time. And they… they..”
Had it been so quiet in the hotel before? The heater must’ve automatically shut off again, much to Paris’ discomfort. Too cold. It was always too cold in this city.
Sprite felt a chill creep up his spine. Paris's voice sounded far away, it didn't even sound like Paris anymore.
Team Plasma, of course. It was always them. Sprite wasn't blind to the fact Paris used to have 2 other pokemon that were seldom mentioned. But his voice didn't hold it's usual distain when discussing the group. This was something else. Something worse.
It wished it could turn to face Paris, to help him somehow. To fix whatever he was reliving.
Instead it prompted him to continue, guilt welling in its chest.
"And they…?"
Deep breaths. Paris shifted in place slightly, staring at- or through- the blankets. His facial expression didn't allow Sprite to discern much of anything, at least from what it could see in the dim red light illuminating his face.
"They wanted to take control of Unova through, I guess violent force. Make it so our leaders had no choice but to give in... And they were planning to do it by freezing most of Unova. The cities, towns… Anything they could to get control."
The words felt foreign on his tongue, but he continued blurting out everything. "They started with Opelucid City. Froze it over."
Another beat of silence. Maybe that was a hint to stop, but Paris didn’t know if he could now that he started— like he was fixated on a Rollout.
“Lumi, she was living there at the time. So the second I heard what had happened, I was already preparing to leave.”
Memories dragged themselves up, unwarranted. He could remember standing at the hospital’s reception, exhaustion clouding his mind as he pleaded with a receptionist. Unsure if he was being denied his last chance to see his only friend— no, the only person he had left.
Sickening memories. He wished he could push them back into whatever crevice they had been lurking in.
“I couldn’t do anything to help her. Couldn’t even visit her for a while— some stupid rule, I don’t remember.” Paris was surprised at how steady his voice was. He had expected it to shake a lot more than this.
Sprite could do nothing but stare into the darkness, silently cursing his ignorance.
Why didn't he know this already, why hadn't he done his research- why was his stomach starting to churn-
This isn't about me.
It had no right to be upset at this. Any of this.
He took a deep breath as Paris paused again. Everything was starting to click into place as he spoke. 2018. He was 19 years old.
Their trip was being thrown into a much less fun light now.
Paris fussing over Lumi when they stayed, to an extent that seemed unhealthy.
Paris being panicked for days after it fell into the cold water at virbank.
Paris keeping them both out of the cold, his mood always worsening while it was snowing.
"I…."
Sprite hesitated, choking up,
This isn't about me
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's not like you could've known, yeah?" Of course, Paris still felt the need to comfort Sprite, even while recounting what seemed to be the worst period of his life.
"Besides- she's… Okay now." Paris was always a bad liar, but especially now. How many times had he repeated those words? How real were they to him? "It was just, shit was rough when it was going down."
"…I actually stayed by Opelucid, for a while." He quickly changed the subject, unfortunately to one far more grim, "It was already a cold winter, and it- the entire city, everything near it was frozen completely solid. Just an icy wasteland." The wind howled, the morning light reflecting off of the frozen city, particles of ice lazily floating through the air. It almost would've been beautiful, except-
"Thousands of people had no home to return to. Anything that wasn't iced over was probably rubble… lots of people lost family, too."
He could still see the makeshift tents, set up just past the Village bridge, as vivid as the first day he was there.
Mourning families, children with nobody to turn to for comfort… His heart ached for them all still.
He could've done more for them.
There had to be something he could've done.
Right?
"Mmhm."
Even Sprites wordless response was strained. It shifted again, unable to keep still, it's face pressing against the pillow.
There was no way to reach Paris, to pull him out of this. Instread he himself was being dragged deeper and deeper down.
Why did he ask about this anyway? To saitate his need to know? Did he really think he could help? Did he think this would help Paris somehow, talking about it?
This isn't about me
"That's… yeah…."
"…Yeah." Paris echoed, before clearing his throat. "The city couldn't be repaired until it started warming up- it was just too cold otherwise. I don't… really understand how, it must've been because of the Dragon, but it just- it wasn't normal ice. apparently it wouldn't even break until Plasma…" He trailed off, his mind immediately jumping to a line of thought he didn't want to pursue.
What would have happened if they succeeded? If they attacked more cities in the same way? Would-
"Forget about that. I'm off track." Paris realized he was shivering. When did it get so cold?
He tried to huddle up without moving too much, wrapping the blanket around him tighter before shoving his hands back underneath. Anything to thaw his freezing fingers.
"I also volunteered to help with recovering the city, once it was… safe enough for them to allow,"
Ah.
He regretted mentioning it before he even finished his sentence. Too late to take it back now.
"Help?"
It should not have surprised Sprite. Really. Still, it felt it's gut twist at the word 'recovery'
With the lense of this new information, all the overlooked details were coming into sharp focus. Every stupid argument they had about his saviour complex, all of Sprites concerns that were quickly brushed aside were coming back to haunt it.
He was tugged deeper down. Paris.
Paris, always obsessed with being the saviour, the hero, the white knight for those who needed it.
The worst thing he could do is surround himself with people he would never be able to save.
“What? Of course I helped. What else was I supposed to do?” He sounded genuinely confused at Sprite’s reaction, turning to briefly look in its direction.
He didn’t seem to see a single issue with anything he was saying.
“I couldn’t just, leaveafter everything that already happened.” Paris explained further, finding the very idea of simply backing off, or prioritizing himself strange.
Typical. Even if hundreds of other people were available to help in his place, Paris would still find a way to justify why he in specific needed to be present.
“People needed their homes back.. and to be able to mourn properly.”
Sprite felt Paris's eyes snap to him, but didn't back down, annoyance overtaking apprehension
"And you- You didn't need support, you didn't need anything?"
It knew he was fighting a loosing battle here. There was always some tarousshit explanation for Paris's borderline suicidal selflessness. He shifted again, stretching out it's legs and turning over to face away from his friend.
"… What did you do?"
"Well…"
Paris hesitated. He wanted to stop talking now, end the conversation here and go back to bed…
But that wouldn't be fair to Sprite at this point, would it? He could handle it, or at least, he should be able to handle it. So he took a deep breath, and steadied himself before starting to speak again.
"A lot of the process was… body recovery." Paris lowered his voice, staring down at the blanket with an almost vacant expression.
"…"
His voice finally cracked once he spoke again, his fist clenching the blanket. "They- A lot of them were trapped in their homes, or frozen solid in the streets… all of them, looked like they could've still been alive. They were completely preserved. And… It- it tricked my brain, every time- I always thought, maybe they'd start breathing, or they'd wake up any second…"
"But they were all cold. So, cold- I could feel it through my gloves- maybe they were, shit- but it was the coldest thing I've ever felt-"
Deep breaths. He knew he needed to take deep, steady breaths. Panicking wouldn't do him any good.
He looked around for Cashmere, or maybe Lotus- but they were all tucked away inside their Pokeballs. There was a rule against having Pokémon out indoors- and he wouldn't want them to experience this cold night with him, anyways.
It'd be cruel.
Cruel to make anyone else deal with him.
"…I.."
Their faces were still clear in his mind. Eyes like glass, faces frozen in terror- the last thing they ever experienced. He wanted to scream, hit his head against the walls until he couldn't remember anymore- but his throat felt frozen, completely iced over.
"…I don't… want to talk about it anymore."
I'm sorry.
You shouldn't have to hear about all of this.
I'm sorry.
"..."
Without another word, Paris laid back down, draping the blanket over himself as he turned away from Sprite.
Sprite bit his tongue, though any response had died well before it reached his throat. There was a pressure in it's chest that could only build, surely his lungs would give out any second, surely his heart would stop soon.
How long had he been keeping Paris in this place? A week? Two? And for what- for what.
They lay there in silence again, facing away from each other. Even after the heating turned back on the room didn't seem to get any warmer.
Something awful is going to happen
The pressure didn't stop building after the conversation ended, Paris's breathing stabilized, nor did it when they started packing up the next morning.
All she knows, as Jude barks (is that allowed, is she allowed to use that word? oh well, it's her inner-monologue, he'll never know) at her not to go to sleep, is that she doesn't want to lose her fingers; they feel cold and on fire and numb all at the same time, like a lot of the rest of her - she can't think about anything besides her hands though; its really hard to do her work without fingers. Legs, a nose, ears, whatever - she can learn to live without those.
Just don't take the one thing from her that she wants to do with her life, please.
But she does fall asleep, at least mostly, because the next thing she knows she's at Seam Queens. She hopes Cordelia won't hate her for telling Jude to bring her here... or that the whole Vampires versus Werewolf thing isn't that deep. She just kind of doesn't want to die.
She's also kind of amused, in the icy delirium, at how tickled she is at the though of Jude carrying her across Cordelia's threshold, and how sorry she is she wasn't awake for it, because she could have teased him. How knightly. "Oh man did they amputate yet? I want to keep a bone, tell them I want to keep a bone."
[ID: a digitally illustrated triptych depicting double life pearl, Scott, Cleo, and martyn. The frame is patterned with hearts and diamonds, with details showing a snowflake and bones on the left, and a nether portal and red vines on the right. On both sides are a green heart, the three hearts representing life colors, and a broken green heart. At the top is an infinity symbol with the three life hearts, and at the bottom is text that reads “it’s complicated”. In the first, leftmost panel of the triptych is pearl, walking forward with a hand over her heart and one behind her back, grinning with sharp teeth. She is drawn with hair covering her eyes and a red cloak with a broken heart pin, as well as a black tunic with slashed sleeves, grey shorts, white socks, and black boots with red moon decals. She is covered in frostbite. Behind her is a forest snowing at night. She has a yellow frayed string around her pinkie. The middle panel has a background of a bridge between two cliffs at sunset. Scott and Cleo are drawn in it. Scott on the left backing away from pearl looking hesitant and up at Cleo, who is on the right and looks exhausted. Scott wears a white button down shirt with heart buttons, black and yellow striped flowy pants, and a dark yellow coat with black pockets, as well as black shoes with yellow laces. He has slight evidence of frostbite on his fingertips and a yellow string tied around his pinkie in a bow. Cleo is drawn with a black shirt that has white lace on the sleeves, which end at their elbows, a green and black striped coat, brown pants, and brown boots. There are leaves in her hair and small clusters of holes on her cheek and arms. She has a yellow string tied in a bow around her pinkie- it is singed at the ends. Martyn is drawn in the third panel, in front of a ravine at night. He is on his knees with hands clasped and looking up as if begging, looking desperate. He is wearing a large green tunic that has black bands on the arms tied with a black belt, black braces on his forearms beige pants, and brown boots. He has a yellow string tied around his pinkie, singed at the end. End ID]
ok so apparently Unova is pretty chilly right now, and while I can’t help directly I thought I’d share some tips on combatting frostbite since I know a thing or two about it (crown tundra make some noise)
Probably the most important piece of advice is to not expose the frost bitten area to direct heat like a fire, and don’t rub the affected area either. While both of these reactions may be instinctual or seem like a good response, they can actually cause further damage.
Instead, the rewarming process should be gradual. You should immerse the frostbitten area in warm - not hot - water, or use a sponge to soak it. This process should last at least thirty minutes, or until the body part can be easily moved.
Do not start the rewarming process until you are away from the cold environment. Re-exposure to the elements after an attempted rewarming could cause permanent damage.
Stay safe, and I wish all Unovans the best of luck!
