i think one of poppy playtime’s big problems is it lacks restraint. i mean the fundamentals of it would still be. what they are. but the horror aspect would work so much better if things were left as implication and up to the imagination but it can’t resist adding every last gruesome detail and that just makes it cornier instead of scarier. the plot would work better if they weren’t trying to do so many things with it. the story should probably have been wrapped up in this chapter but they’ve just added more and more things. but unfortch im kind of delighted about THAT particular lack of restraint bc that means MORE long daniphiw videos are in our futures and i Love them so yay ^_^
Part of the Mizora torment tactic that I don't think gets talked about enough is that Wyll is "isolated" (insofar as while he does meet and help people all the time, his constant travel of the frontiers and wariness of his patron's presence makes it so he does not seem to/perhaps is not *able* to make lasting connections), but is never left alone.
Even weeks later, Rei’s still haunted by the battle with Lord Arcanine.
Whumptober Day 5: Phobia
The Alpha Parasect screeches, sending a horde of Paras skittering towards Rei. Darn it. He stands, abandoning his crouched position in the long grass. He'd hoped to avoid their attention altogether, but now that he's been spotted, he's better off fighting. Paras and Parasect are persistent little buggers.
He reaches for his satchel, hand hovering over Infernape's Pokeball, the obvious choice against a group of bugs. His fingers brush against the stylised flame carved onto its surface.
Then he throws a different ‘ball, Decidueye’s, calling for an “Air Slash!”, which easily cows the first wave of Pokemon.
An X-Scissor on Decidueye seems to hurt more than it should, and he grimaces. Must’ve been a critical hit. Then, the other Paras releases a Stun Spore. Decidueye falters in the middle of Triple Arrows as the Alpha bellows again and joins the fight.
It's still fine. Rei directs Decidueye to barrage the Alpha. With a mighty caw, his Pokemon flares his wings and three arrows strike true. One good Air Slash, he determines, should take the Alpha down easily. But, turn after turn, Decidueye is wracked by paralytic tremors, all while the Paras continue to spread spores. And with the status condition, these Venoshocks are starting to take their toll.
Rei's hand goes to Infernape's Pokeball, again, debating a switch. Instead, he grits his teeth. “Air Slash, strong style!” It's the wrong call, as the paralysis triggers again, and the combination of the bugs’ attacks overwhelm Decidueye.
There's no point dragging this battle out further. As he throws the next Pokeball, he screws his eyes shut. Calls for a Flame Wheel. Light blooms behind his closed eyelids and hot air buffets his face.
He calls for another, and then another.
Sounds of rushing fire and crackling sparks distort into static fuzz. He breathes deeply, an attempt to soothe that wailing part of him that wants to flee, to hide… Focuses on the crisp air of the Fieldlands. Ignores the hint of smoke on the breeze. The cries of the defeated Alpha finally echo off the cliffs and filter through his awareness, and he swallows, mouth dry, as he opens his eyes.
Infernape turns towards Rei, and lets out a pleased sound, the Parasect and Paras slumped all around him. His crest of flame flares with his chattering, orange wisps fading to red. Hot, but far from blazing, Rei knows. The ground is barely even scorched, despite all the grass around. Rei’s partner eagerly approaches him, seeking his praise, perhaps a berry, like he'd always freely given before.
He clicks the latch. Infernape makes a confused noise as he's recalled, and Rei stares at the handcarved Pokeball with shame rising in his chest, choking and heavy.
“Good job. Thank you,” he murmurs, too late. The words taste like ash. The afterimages of flames still dance in his vision. Numbly, he places the Pokeball back in his satchel, and turns resolutely away, marching back towards camp. That’s enough gathering materials for today.
It’s been weeks since Lord Arcanine. He should be over it by now.
But still, he hovers at the edge of campsites, unwilling to get too close to the heat of the communal fire. Lets his hearth at home go unlit, even on cold nights. Fights the urge to flee from Fire-types, because as a well decorated member of the Survey Corps, he can hardly run from every little Ponyta roaming the Fieldlands.
Worst of all, he's found, is that he can't bear to be around Infernape, his own Pokemon, even when he had fought against the frenzied Lord most of them all, flames clashing with flames to secure victory. Maybe that's the reason Rei’s so affected. The thought is painfully ironic.
His memories of that first battle exist as fragments, easily dislodged. The whole world narrowing, hemmed by molten lava and a fiery wall of heat. Dry air, hot enough to choke on. Collapsing on overheated rock, trembling, unable to push himself up, unable to run. Phantom pain from phantom burns that no longer existed.
Impossible memories of an unrealised time. Undone by Arceus, after Rei had… failed.
It could have been a distant dream, a prophetic nightmare, one that had guided his every step with shaky adrenaline across a deadly arena. Something bestowed from above, beyond comprehension, unreal. It could have been. If he pretends.
Regardless, that doesn't solve his problems with Infernape.
He'd raised Infernape from a Chimchar, caught high on Deertrack Heights only a few days after falling to Hisui. Always a reliable team member, invaluable against Arcanine, and many other battles before.
And so Rei had been trying. Wrestling with himself, with these debilitating fears, with the clawing anxiety that bubbled up on every attempt. He’d hoped that it would pass with time, and concerted effort, but it's only become worse. The thought of calling Infernape out at all, he realises, now fills him with dread.
He bites his lip, and exhales. He can't keep doing this to himself.
At the camp, he greets Laventon and the Security Corps guard, then claims exhaustion so that he can retire to one of the tents.
His Pokeballs lie on the tent floor, as he visualises the team's composition. Fighting type moves are already duplicated across his team. One of his Snorlax could run Fire Punch for coverage. A transient sort of flame, something to briefly summon and then extinguish. Togetic could probably learn a Fire move, too. And then there's the matter of the replacement: a Water-type. After all, none of his current team learns Water-type moves. Dealing with Fire-types faster would be welcome.
Logical as it is, he'd never cared overly about team balance, before. It's all to soften the blow, the bitter truth that he's giving up on one of his partners.
But what more can he do? Today proves that nothing has been fixed at all. Going on like this would be dangerous, a liability. And Hisui is dangerous enough as it is.
When he puts the Pokeballs away, Infernape's is last. He should call him out and explain, but Rei's a coward now, so he doesn't. Instead, he presses his forehead to it, hoping Infernape will somehow understand everything he can't bring himself to say.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers. He doesn't even know whether Pokemon can hear, from inside their Pokeballs. For all he knows, he's apologising to empty air.
This time, putting Infernape's Pokeball in his satchel has a sense of finality. Come the next morning, he'll talk to Marie at the pastures. He can finally move on.
(By running away.)
Maybe, after all this mess with the Nobles is over, after things are settled, and peaceful, he'll be able to confront these fears. Be able to apologise, properly. For now, he forges ever onward, leaving part of himself behind, lost in the ashes.
The wolves were our allies. In the old days, before Andraste, before the Maker, we knew this to be so. But man grew tired of the chase, the hunt, the truth of fang and steel and blood. Man put seeds in the ground, tended cattle and chickens, and built fences to keep the wolves away. Man bred hounds that would heel and sit and obey, and told himself that the hounds were just as good.
Now the darkspawn come again. They break our fences, kill our cattle and chickens, burn our crops. Our dogs cower with tails between their legs, or if they fight, they fall to the poison of darkspawn blood. We are dying, and I am shamed by my cowardice.
The ways of man and hound are not enough. I come to you, spirits of the old forest, I who built fences, I who came with fire and steel to drive you away. I come to you because fear has made my arms weak. I ask you for unforgiving rage to make them strong again.
Kill the hound in my heart, and grow strong from the meat on its bones. In its place, give me the wolf.
—Words caught in the bloody ripples of ancient water in the Fade, somehow remembered
