Let's Talk

It was a perfect day. The sun was high in the vibrant blue sky, surrounded by little dots of clouds. The pond glistened in the light, making its surface look clean and colorful. Kids were splashing amount, along with a few adults who were simply wading about and biding their time. All in all, the Small Pond today was the ideal place of relaxation and no one in their right minds would say otherwise.

Except for one particular Scraggy. He stood at the edge of the pond, a considerable distance away from all the rest. His uncovered eye stared at his hand, as though he were concentrating. The warm breeze brushed against him, as though asking for him to sit back and relax like everyone else. He refused to relent, not even paying attention to the peaceful scenery around him. This was a very, very important matter for him, though for others it may look as if he were simply having a sort of stare-off with his palm. A few passers-by were already giving him confused looks and muttering to each other, but their silent insults were met with deaf ears.

Finally, the scraggy seemed to get the reaction he had been waiting for. A small amount of ice seemed to appear on his hand, slowly covering it in a shield of pure cold. With his hand so close, he could already feel the freezing temperature being emitted by it. Flecks of snow began surrounding his hand, and just as he began feeling the power of the attack, it stopped. Like pressing a switch, the glowing ice-like energy surrounding his hand disappeared. The dark type seemed to pause, as if not believing what had just happened. But immediately after he recovered his shock, he growled in frustration.

"No! You can't be serious!" He said angrily, trying to focus once more. But no matter how long he waited, all he got was a flicker of cold light. Why? What was happening? It may have been a very long time since he had last used that move, but it couldn't be that he'd lost it already. And of all the times to lose it, it had to be right now, when he had finally reassured himself that he could summon such power again.

He sat down, his head in his hands. Could it be? Had he really grown so weak as to be unable to even use a move he'd learned through BIRTH? What kind of explorer was he? If he couldn't even fight with a move granted by his own family bloodline, there was no telling how he'd fair in a real fight. Worst of all, without this move, he'd be susceptible to his weaknesses. His fighting and dark moves couldn't cover every enemy, and sooner or later he'd end up facing defeat because of this failure.

Crysel was depressed. Not because of a failure to do a move that she had learned at birth. Avalanche. Eat your heart out Mordred. Not because of thoughts of a past mistake that shaped many of her decisions up to now. Oh no, none of that. She couldn't remember a single thing. Crysel was distressed about her amnesia. No matter how hard she tried, it was as if someone had scooped all of her past from her head and just left with them. She wanted so bad to remember. It was as if she lost a part of herself when she lost her memories. Like a cut off arm.

As she strode along the edge of the lake, she spotted the Scraggy. He seemed to be intensely staring at his hand. OH GOD, PLEASE DON'T TELL ME HE IS DEBATING WHETHER TO... OH GOOD! She watched as he failed to pull up an Ice Punch and got frustrated. After he was done with his tantrum, she went over and spoke. "You have to think cold thoughts, focus them like a savage blizzard."

Mordred nearly had a heart attack upon hearing the sudden voice. That voice was far too familiar. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before turning his head and looking up to see a very, very familiar face. Now, he hadn't exactly had the best history with her, and their time was relatively short, but his time with this pokemon was one memory he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon. Meeting at the Icicle Woods then travelling all the way to Grassveil was one journey that even rivaled the time he had to bring an injured Delibird from Blackmist to Rainfront town. He could never bring himself to forget such a friend. Especially after all the times she'd saved him, as embarrassing as admitting that may be.

"Crysel?" He said under his breath, not believing that the pokemon in front of him really was his old friend. "Cry! It's been a while, how are you?" He grinned, feeling his previous frustrations be drained away. After his experiences of being an explorer, he'd come to appreciate familiar faces. It brought comfort to him, knowing that some pokemon would be able to remember him as more than just 'the scraggy with one eye' or 'the scraggy that was an explorer'. Which was a pretty big deal, seeing as his first priority would always be being a great explorer.

It was then he realized what she was trying to tell him. Some advice to help him with honing his attack. He glanced back at his hand, trying to think of cold thoughts. The first thing that came to mind was his experience at Icicle Woods, and as he concentrated on how he felt during his exploration, he could feel energy begin to build up in his hand. It glowed once more, faint, but it didn't flicker out immediately like before. A small amount of cold seemed to emit from it, but alas, good things don't last, and soon the light died. The scraggy frowned, but felt a little better knowing that he could still trigger it using concentration. Now all he needed was to learn how to hold that energy long enough to punch with it. "Thanks," he mumbled, turning his hand as he watched the last of the cold glow fade.

Crysel blinked a bit in surprise at the sudden recognition from the scraggy with one eye. She didn't recognize him at all... was he someone she had met? Like that one idiot Gyrados, Proteus? This could be quite the good turn of events for her. She had found someone who knew who she was... at least seemed like she became friends with. Perhaps he could fill up the holes in her memory with what he knew.

Preparing herself for some revelations, she answered. "No problem... um this may be a shock. I... don't know you, but you seem to know me. You see, I recently got a blow to the head that made me forget my past. I don't remember a thing actually." She looked at Mordred with pleading eyes. "Please, if you can, tell me all you know. Tell me how we know about each other, Maybe it will help me get the rest of my memory back?"

Mordred raised a brow, noticing how she seemed surprised. He didn't say anything out of the ordinary - maybe she was just surprised that he could still remember her? Or maybe it was just how battered his face was now. His hand twitched, as if wanting to cover his other eye. Such an action would be silly, seeing as he was already wearing an eyepatch. However, the scars surrounding it were still apparent, but being cautious about that was still equally as ridiculous.

And then she said she didn't remember him. The scraggy froze, his disbelief suddenly doubling at being told that his friend couldn't remember him. Amnesia? Cry, of all the pokemon he knew, got amnesia? She was a decent fighter, and had natural instincts that could help her survive even under extreme circumstances. And yet, a hard blow to the head was all it took to make her forget. Mordred remained silent, staring at the sneasel, unable to think of how to react. No, maybe he was mistaken. There was no way this sneasel could have been his old friend. He just couldn't make himself believe it.

The scraggy stood up, donning a frown. A pleading face, yeah, definitely not like Cry. "Yeah, uh... I think I'll just be going now," He mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he trudged past the sneasel.

Crysel could not let this Mordred go. He was her only chance of getting her past back right now. She had no other leads. She would not let him leave. Surprisingly, at least a little to her, she put her claw in the way instead of a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I need to at least try to get my memory." She looked straight at Mordred with more intense eyes. Not angry, but eyes that seemed to look through you. The same old eyes she had used on Mordred in the past even though she did not remember. "All I remember is my name. Every day I try to remember more... but nothing. Haven't you ever needed help? Haven't you ever asked for it and found it? My life may slip away... if you don't help me."

Of course, there was the time when they first met. The day of that blizzard in the Icicle Woods. It had been life or death for the Scraggy. He had happened upon Crysel's sheltered cave and fire. Did she turn him away for no reason? She could have just forced the weakened pokemon back into the deadly blizzard and he would have died. It was no skin off her bones. But she did not. She had let him stay. He owed her a bit. The question was... would he honor his debt?

Mordred stopped abruptly in his path as the Sneasel's claw was put forth. Well, so much for the easy way out of  this situation. He could have left, avoided her like the plague, and continue life normally. But it seemed as if the Sneasel had other ideas. At least, this felt normal, sort of. He couldn't remember Cry as someone who let things go that easily. Turning his attention back to his former friend, he flinched. At the sight of her focused, harsh stare, he saw a clearer image of his old friend. Okay, maybe he was mistaken in his previous claim. No one on this entire planet could hold such a stare without using a move like Leer or Scary Face.

He stared at her, having a mental battle with his conscience in his head as he attempted to choose how to react. He could have just passed her, hell, get angry at her and convince her that he wouldn't be able to provide any information. He had many options to avoid this situation on the spot, but he still held doubts. His conscience, the one that had driven him to justice and had buried his previous anxieties and paranoia under the hope of a brighter future, was positively steaming at his actions. 'How could you?' It said, using his own voice yet still sounding completely different. 'She was your friend, she SAVED you!' It growled, and even as it was a figment of his own mind, Mordred could tell that it was in a state of distress and frustration that he could empathize with. 'No', He spat back, 'This sneasel is not my friend. She's different now, I can tell.' It went silent for a moment, before he heard his conscience suddenly laugh.

'Really?' It said, obviously taunting him, 'Can you really tell she's different now?'

His eyes watched the Sneasel's face, holding no doubt that this ice type had changed. But he still couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity, and at the realization of this, his conscience only cackled some more. This was the Sneasel that had saved his life, the one he had traveled with from Icicle Woods all the way to Grassveil, the one he had . . . admired, in a way. Maybe he should tell her. She had told him about her past, after all. But, come to think of it, that may not be such a good idea. He could tell that those memories took a toll on her.

He sighed. "Look, Cry, I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you. I don't know how you can handle what happened to you in the past, and fact is, I think you're better off without knowing."

From what Crysel was hearing, apparently she had something bad in her past. Something that she wouldn't want to remember. However... She still wanted to know. No matter how bad it was, it was who she was. Without it, she was just an empty Sneasel. Lost without a clue to who she was or what to do. She was not going to run away from her past no matter how bad it seemed. Her intense stare did not leave her face. "It is still my past, who I am. Right now I feel like... like I'm nothing. Filled with nothing. I don't care how bad it is. I want you to tell me everything you know about me now."

Mordred narrowed his eyes, taking a step back. He stood there, trying to think of what to do next. This Sneasel, no matter how much change, was still as stubborn as ever. He held no doubts that she'd go out of her way to get the information out of him. Escaping this situation seemed a lot less of a likely option. Why couldn't she understand? If she found out about the tragedy of her family, it could ruin the happiness she had built from her ignorance. The scraggy couldn’t tell how much she had really become happy, but he guessed it was way better without that sort of burden. Besides, the past was in the past. Bad occurrences would only hold you back, and he knew that.

“Look, I’m not telling you. Forget about it,” He said, crossing his arms. Although what he was doing seemed cold, guilt stirred in him. He couldn’t imagine how empty the ice pokemon must have felt. He could still remember how he had grown and what he had experienced. It wasn’t exactly a nice story, but it gave him purpose. Still, there were times when he wished he couldn’t remember. And now, he was faced with this sort of decision. Truth be told, it shouldn’t have been difficult to decide. Crysel was had a strong will. She’d managed to survive on her own even before reaching civilization. But friends don’t go around reminding friends of the worst events in their life.

“If you want to know so bad, then go to Icicle Woods. Maybe your memory will come back or something,” He suggested. The option wasn’t actually that bad. Sure, the travel would be long and harsh, but Crysel wouldn’t have much trouble. That, and she was practically going home. Her memory would probably come back quicker if she went to the place where it all started. Besides, the reptile wasn’t even sure if he could recall her past in its entirety. For all he knew, his memory could have messed it up. Giving false information about something so important would be one mistake that could haunt him for Arceus-knew-how-long.