StarCrosst

Beneath the watering hole at the edge of the wastelands, was an actual, literal, watering hole. An underground lake, about the same size as the basketball courts of old, its entrance now disguised by the unassuming, slightly lopsided building erected above it. Perhaps because it was underground, it had been spared some of the damage to the world above? Or perhaps, thanks to Pokémon like Cumulus, it had gradually been restored to its chilly, pristine clarity. So cool and refreshing, even the most hardened soul might find tears in their eyes after the first taste. The perfect base for brewing beer and wine, and mixing with other, less intoxicating refreshments. Laurie always wondered - occasionally even asked outright - if Cumulus was happy spending all of his time down there, under tons of sand and rock. His ancestors had been birds, and horses, and creatures of the open sea… was he truly all right staying down there, cut off from the wind and sun and sky? But every time, he simply

The small, tailless tom fluffed his fur against the chill of the air, glad not to have a long, narrow appendage trailing behind him in this kind of weather. Sure, tails could be nice, but Ravenstalker had never felt even a twinge of envy toward cats who had them. He was friends with enough of them to feel no need for his own. After so many moons away, his old stomping grounds in the Freelands felt only passingly familiar. It was oddly unnerving. He kept up a brisk pace, as much for warmth as to get home that much sooner. But there are downsides to traveling quickly - especially when it comes to scoping your surroundings. Especially for what turns up underfoot. One moment he was trotting along toward Funky’s, the next he was reeling back on his hind legs, recoiling as a blood-curdling screech assaulted his ears. One that was immediately followed by the unmistakable whimper of a traumatized kit, and the burgeoning growls of its caretaker. Apparently his path had crossed upon someone

It comes as no great shock to anyone when trouble starts with Dimoret. Especially not to Dimoret. “That. Was. A. Gift!” Satori's normally pale cheeks were flushed bright pink, mottled a deeper, almost bruised shade in places. “A gift for Laurie! It was going to be a surprise!” Dimo was unmoved by her passion. Or her volume, for that matter. “Then you should have hidden it better,” he retorted. “Far as I could tell, it was just trash.” “Since when did you bother picking up trash?!” He had no reason to argue that. Dimo did not bother with shame, either, or wasting his energy on things others could do so much better. He had spent his years lazing his way around the oasis, convincing generous souls to do things for him so he could keep slacking off. “Since when did you bother doing anything?!” Unable to restrain her anger and frustration anymore, Satori stepped forward, and she shoved him. She did not mean for it to be anything more than that, but with her emotions running so high, it

Merle drew a deep breath. The air was crisp and cool; last night’s dew still dotted the ocean of leaves and fruit despite it nearly being noon, testament to how thick it had been at daybreak. It could easily trick someone into thinking it had rained that morning. But no; the air was simply letting go of summer’s humidity, preparing itself for the raw, dry days ahead, when the brisk air turned cold, and heavy dew would give way to killing frosts. It was little wonder these farmers wanted additional help getting their fruits in before they spoiled. The tough rind of a pumpkin could protect it from a frost or two, but not all of them. Eventually the ice would find a weak point to carve its way in. Vesta was too small, yet, to pull a cart of any useful size, making her of excellent proportion to pick her way between the pumpkins. Where larger horses would eventually stumble or slip on the furrowed ground and inevitably smash something, the pastel colored Ponyta was nimble as a dancer, and

This is just temporary, Merle reminded herself, not for the first time. Though, it was the first time with this much conviction. Temporary. Just temporary. By most accounts, she had left behind a good life: a job that paid well, a comfortable-sized house. A nice garden in the backyard. A garage to act as a doghouse for her admittedly rather large dog. No surprises. Few worries. But also… nothing else. A home, a job, and a dog. After fifty years, that was the extent of her life? She had decided no: no, that wasn’t going to be it. So now she was here, in a new country and time zone, far from her family, critically making a mental checklist of the repairs and touch-ups this little house would need to meet her standards. It did fit the description given: two bedrooms, one bathroom. Nothing false there. Even if those three rooms combined were the square footage of the master bedroom she’d left behind. And it had one remaining room, with a kitchenette tucked in a corner and space for

It took all night, but finally, they were here! Satori couldn’t help but twitch her ears at the unaccustomed sound of so many voices. It was still early morning, but the farmer’s market was already bustling. There were plenty of humans about, either behind booths or in front of them, sellers and browsers, eager to come out from their winter burrows- er, homes, and mingle again. It didn’t look like there were many Pokémon without a human accompanying them, though there were quite a few carrying sacks, backpacks, and baskets in preparation to take home the spoils of their efforts. “We’re gonna to be underfoot,” Tessa noted, untroubled by her own observation. Their trainer was so busy ‘spring cleaning’, she’d felt she didn’t have time to come herself, so had sent her most reliable Pokémon to check out the market. Well, them and Dimoret, because Dimo could write, to make himself understood to humans that couldn’t interpret Pokémon speech. Tessa had stopped walking when Satori did, which