
Vincent Diamante's Solitary Wasteland
Booker was, simply put, a monlet. That derogatory term invented by the ingenious minds of the Clover Guild rarely bothered the ribombee, at most only lightly irking the former human. But those small jabs began to add up, and sure enough, Booker felt bruised.
Worse still, there were none he could empathize with. Few were the pokemon within the Clover Guild that might understand Booker's situation, but he had to try.
The first he approached was the tiny Maddi. Aside from occasional small-talk, Booker rarely spoke to her, but with this he sought her out and tried. When he found the joltik, however, it was to his dismay that she thought nothing of it.
"It's how it's always been," she said, her four eyes looking up at the ribombee. "The world's just always been this way. Sometimes things are too big for you and it's bad, but other times it's great! Haven't you gotten full of just half of a berry? Those bigger pokemon can't say the same!"
That wasn't a satisfactory answer for the former human who had known how it was to live at a common height, who had known what it was like to not be literally looked down upon everywhere he went. He wanted just a sliver of normalcy, but he wasn't going to find it with Maddi. Nor would he with Natu, who felt the same way as the joltik.
Booker tried to turn to the other human-turned-pokemon who had also lost almost all of his height—Jimmy the Ghimmgouhl—but most previous interactions were unpleasant on Jimmy's part, and when Booker approached again, he decided to not proceed when he was met with an annoyed "What?" It seemed and felt to Booker that he was alone.
The resident ribombee of the Clover Guild reached his limit, finally, in the dining hall. Beast Winchester had to serve Booker the day's meal —a soup—without his usual tiny spoon that he had especially for the ribombee.
"Unsurprisingly, Ronald lost it, that useless oaf," was Beast's only explanation, one Booker accepted quietly as he remained in Sneasel's pouch while she grabbed two bowls for them. She placed them on the table and Booker, fluttering up to the table and looking into the bowl. His only options were to scoop it up with hands or have Sneasel scoop it up for him.
After Booker slurped from a spoon half his size, he sat back and with a sigh spoke to Sneasel, saying, "Y-you know, sometimes I wish it wasn't just me that's this size. It's not like I want someone else to deal with my own difficulties, of course, but I feel so alone like this. I just want to feel like I could see s-someone eye-to-eye."
Sneasel offered her apologies but, of course, could do nothing about it; she couldn't, after all, shrink to his size. Ross alone had been able to do so, but had long since forgotten since their last battle years ago. Thus Booker accepted the consolation given by his partner, but was left feeling unsatisfied.
Keen-eared Arimis, however—although her ears were nowhere near the sensitivity of Pirth's, years of silence taught her the importance of listening—heard Booker's whispered complaint, as by chance the espeon glanced at him. Uncertain of what she heard, Arimis went and focused on Booker's thoughts, saw what she heard was in fact so, and began to devise a plan.
You're still free this afternoon, Booker? If you're still busy we can postpone.
Booker looked up from the map he was helping Macom sketch out. His small size was well-employed by the mareep, and at least he didn't make him feel any lesser for it.
"Oh. Hi Ari. A-are you sure you can still go? I know you have that big expedition soon, right? I don't want to tire you."
I have been training for days on end; a pleasant walk with a friend is all the recuperation I need.
Booker smiled and said, "I'm just finishing up the details of this map. I'll be done in a m-moment."
Arimis, now, smiled and nodded. As Booker went back to finalizing the sketches, he noticed that she made eye contact with Macom.
"Hmm," said the mareep, stepping aside from overlooking Booker's etching and moving towards the shelf full of rolled-up maps encased in satchels. "I think we have one."
Booker's curiosity was sated as Macom nipped at the handle of one map, holding it in his jaw as he moved to a table. Using his stubby blue paws, Macom undid the satchel and spread the contents within open, revealing the faraway continent of Mist. The western portion of the continent, unmapped, was the subject of attention for but a moment as Arimis's vision slowly drifted east, nostalgia replacing curiosity in her eyes as they traveled from where Paradise-Post Town was marked down to Noe Town.
Arimis looked at Macom once more, and the mareep replied, "Ley Lines? I can take a look."
Another map was produced, one with less detailed continents but much of the world depicted, and with that various lines crisscrossing the continents. Thick black lines stretched from Post Town down to Noe, from the mountains of the Water Continent to the endless dunes of Sand, and from the unknown reaches of Mist to the forests of Grass.
It was a chaotic array, difficult to see any pattern, but Booker did not pay much more attention to the maps Arimis studied, instead opting to finish his own detailings. When he declared he was finished, Arimis echoed this as well, and the duo bid farewell to quiet Macom, whose focus did not leave the maps before him.
Booker, of course, couldn't keep up with Arimis' pace, so as he fluttered by her down the stairs and towards the exit, he asked, "Could I ride on top of you, Ari? I don't know where we're going so unless it's near, I'd p-probably exhaust myself."
Of course, came the reply, I doubt my head will be as comfortable as Sneasel's but you can go ahead.
Arimis stood still in the doorway, midways between the warm interior of the Guild and the fresh spring air of Capim. A light fairy wind guided Booker onto Arimis' head, and he was met with an unexpectedly soft tuft of hair. He looked at his own hands; although he felt that he was totally surrounded by silky fur, he didn't see any.
As he ran his hand through, however, he could see light shimmer just a little. He remembered that oftentimes illusions would trick the brain into thinking there was something there when there wasn't or vice versa, but Booker guessed it only really would've counted if he didn't find himself knee-deep in the tuft of a zorua.
Arimis could sense his surprise and said, walking as she thought, Are you surprised? I cannot transform like a ditto, you should know. I can manipulate light, changing it to one color where another would be, and in empty spaces bending it around me completely.
"I didn't know how you could do that! I can hardly tell, uh..." Booker said, looking around. No one they knew was there, but he still whispered, "I can hardly tell you're a zorua."
This disguise is the best one I have ever wore; I have spent so much time in it mimicing something like the winds blowing over my fur onto the illusion comes as naturally as breathing. I would be surprised if it wasn't the best espeon disguise ever.
Arimis paused before Booker heard in his mind once more, That's not to say that my illusions are good. Even if well practiced, it could never be as good as this, unfortunately.
"O-oh. I see," Booker said.
He had half a mind to say something more, but as he was weighing to speak or not, Arimis changed the topic of conversation, saying, Sneasel knows you'll be gone for a bit, correct? I promise we'll be home before sundown, but I want to be sure.
"She... does," Booker said. "D-does d'Alin know you're here with me? I know we’re not, um... we’re n-not on the best of terms."
Booker could sense the aura in Arimis darken just a little. He is... unaware.
"Are you h-hiding the fact that—"
No; it just never came up. But it does not matter; he is not the type to stop me from being friends with those he dislikes.
Booker's antennae drooped as he said, "Oh."
Arimis, quick to reassure, said, Do not think, though, that he speaks ill of you to me; I would not tolerate a friend of mine doing so to another. I've spent enough time beside him to know his feelings, but I at least appreciate his refusal to speak ill of you. In fact, he has admired your tenacity.
"My... tenacity?"
Ari stopped and, even though Booker was on her head and couldn't make eye contact with her, she still looked away. Indeed. He, uh, confessed to me he would have 'killed himself' had he found himself in your situation. I do think he exaggerated, however. And he did say that he commended you for growing as much as you did.
"Thanks, I guess," was all Booker could really say about the fish. As they trudged on, he wondered idly where the disguised zorua was taking them, and he knew better than to ask what was obviously meant to be a surprise for him. So he remained silent, and so did she, but the silence—though awkward for a moment—soon gave way to serenity, and that was far from unpleasant.
The gentle breeze that flowed from the sea onto the hills and jungle surrounding Capim was nice, and as their journey started it carried the crash of waves, the clatter of claws against the paved stone and unpaved grasses of Capim's streets and paws on the twisting bridges of Capim's canopy. As they went on, ascending a hill and entering the forest, the sounds of civilization faded, growing distant as they were replaced by the rustle of trees and wind flowing through.
They walked a rarely-trodden path, Booker enjoying the cushion of the fluff he was nestled in and Arimis the company of the ribombee. As the sounds of civilization were swept away completely by the rush of wind though foliage and the song of birds above, he couldn't help but further nestle himself in Arimis's fur. But no flying-type interrupted their walk, and as he relaxed his attention shifted to the trees that surrounded them.
Tall grasses grew below, rising up to the warm brown bark that had scaling creepers trying to meet the evening sky. And although the sun was beginning to set instead of rise, the darkening environment was a cause of the increasingly dense foliage above, not the approach of night.
Arimis, towards the tail-end of their serene walk, stopped by a tree marked by three low-lying clawmarks and a large scratch higher above. She looked at their front and at their back and, seeing no others, entered the brush.
Through the thick bristling understory of the jungle they went, Arimis stepping over fallen logs and ducking beneath low-lying branches. Booker held on tight as the trailblazed path grew harsher and he could feel Arimis begin to lightly pant as they made their way through the treacherous terrain. Although he weighed practically nothing Booker stood up and spread his wings, hoping to alleviate any difficulty his companion had.
Just wait Booker, she asked, We are nearly there, and I would like you to see it with me.
Booker's buzzing wings settled, and indeed he found Ari was correct; it was but a few moments later the maze of trees and brush came to a striking halt. They were before a glade, an open and wide meadow where the blue sky above seemed impossibly vivid in contrast against the canopy they had been beneath but moments ago.
Facing them, forming a semicircle, were megalithic rocks. Those colossi, marked with shallow carvings, towered over the perimeter and gave watch to the center. At their bases was a spring with crystal-clear waters that, like them, formed a semicircle, dividing the meadow from the forest. Its soft and shallow waters lapped at the foundations of the stone and anchored them.
Drinking from those waters, spread throughout the meadow and in the spring, were blossoming flowers of a type that Booker, in spite of his affinity for them, had never before seen. In the waters were white lotuses, petals singed with a mystical pink and blue.
He found also, dotting the glade, beautiful flowers, the vast white of lilies accompanied by exotic buds that at first glance were as vibrant as crystal. Blossoming petals of gold and silver, also, lined the field, the entire wreath swaying in the wind.
Booker was speechless, and while Arimis was able to read aura only poorly in comparison to the ribombee, could easily sense his awe, one that matched her own when she first came upon it.
Booker remained on Arimis's head as she slowly sauntered to the center, the gentle and cool grass grazing her legs. We—Team Eevee—lost and found the path many times on the road from Treasure Town to Capim, when we first arrived a month ago. We came across this place, this forgotten glade, and though we had to continue to the town before nightfall, we marked the path to it.
Before Booker could ask why, Arimis said, This is more than a place of beauty. I can sense your surprise. These flowers, here, I noticed when we first stumbled across this place, their familiarity striking to me. I had to stop and take in everything for a moment.
She walked by the monoliths, letting Booker who was perched atop to see the intricate carvings. These, I realized, told a story I have heard only in echoes, opposite of the one I learned growing up. Look at the first of the six: it shows Reshiram triumphant over Zekrom, an inverse of the creation tale I was told.
She continued to walk by them, Booker looking on. Everything I learned deviates from there. A tale from my Continent, so close but never learned. Here, see, it tells of their migration westward. Then the tracing of ley lines, the foundation of a magnagate. Through a mystery dungeon they went and wound up here, in this meadow. There was no spring here, long ago, so they prayed to the North Wind.
Arimis stood below the final monolith, depicting Suicune. And so did the North Wind answer. It let the spring here flow, and in their thanks they made a shrine to it; Suicune became the tutelary guardian of this place.
The words of Arimis echoed in Booker's mind, leaving in their wake the silence and whisper of cold, south-bound winds. She held the backside of her paw up, enticing Booker to step onto it. He obliged, feeling the soft fur of a zorua below him as he looked about at the scenery surrounding them, before looking at her. The smile on her face was rare, as was the glint of joy in her eyes that her illusion mirrored perfectly.

Art by Ribombee-anon
Meeting her eye, he asked, "H-how interesting. This isn't a story I've heard b-before."
It is left to the far reaches of Mist, and is a story I only know because of this place. Were it not for my recognition of these flowers, my knowledge of the schismed mythos of my home, we both would not know of it.
Still, Booker couldn't take his eyes off the flowers, so strange and beautiful that they were. "So, is this why you b-brought me here? To share with me a part of your past, one I could appreciate? To open up to me?"
Arimis hobbled over to a stone that rose from the sea of flowers and grass, leveling her paw to it so that Booker could debark. Once more he turned to look at Arimis, who once again had a rare smile and glint in her eyes. Both. And neither. Above all this place is isolated, hidden away from wandering eyes. I have something I would like to show only you, Booker.
Vincent Diamante's Splash of Color
"R-really?"
Indeed. Please, would you oblige me and close your eyes?
Booker, nervous and not sure what to think, briefly recalled that Arimis and Althi had once been on the same team. Immediately he felt guilty, pushing the thoughts aside. No, he told himself, she would never hurt me. I know Althi is gone and Arimis is here, and they couldn't be any more different.
So he obliged, closing his eyes as he sat still upon a rock.
He sensed Ari get behind him, by the rock, and lie down, the grasses making a near-silent objection as they gave way. He heard to his right a paw join him, gently settling beside him.
A moment of stillness stood between them.
Open them, please.
Booker hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes. He saw, sitting beside him a ribombee looking gently at him, a warm smile on its face. Unlike his cloak of cobalt blue and his belt-and-badge adorning his abdomen, it wore nothing and looked like a regular ribombee, save for the red mark upon its right arm.
It opened its mouth, but no words were carried by the winds, as it was Arimis's nervous voice that echoed in Booker's mind. Well?
Booker stuttered out, "I-I-I don't k-know what to say."
The ribombee looked over her own illusion. It's practiced, not perfect, and nowhere near the quality of my espeon. If you look to where I am behind you, you would see shimmering light where I really am.
Booker did look back and did see that the light wavered where it normally wouldn't, and as he looked he could trace the outline of a sitting zorua. He turned back to face the disguised Arimis, who said This is my paw, about the size of your body. I-I heard you some days ago, complaining about your size, how you felt so alone. I know this isn't the same; I know that I am not really your size, but I did want to speak to you—as you had said—eye-to-eye.
A smile appeared on Arimis. I think of you as a friend, Booker, and among the first I've met here. Your words of kindness, during our return from Checkered Chasm, from what I faced within the dungeon and out; they have helped me so greatly.
Booker watched as the ribombee held up a red right hand. I-you helped me with this, Booker. Even disguised, even in some other form that isn't the espeon, I still want to have that small part of my true self you helped bring out. Even in an illusion where it normally would not make sense, I told myself I would never lose this small step of progress, this mark that reminds me that, someday, I might not need an illusion at all.
Booker frowned as the word someday echoed in his mind, and it continued to remain as Arimis's wings fluttered, and it continued more to remain an ever-present thought as she took a step towards Booker, arms outstretched.
I cannot truly know your woes, she said, but just as you comforted me, I would like to do the same for you. Please, might we hug?
Booker stepped forward before he could help it; when was the last time he had been hugged like a person would? He certainly wouldn't complain about Sneasel's hugs, but they were different. He knew this, and he stepped forward. But a second thought struck him, except that it wasn't a second thought, but an earlier one.
Once again the word someday flashed across his mind, and although Booker was but a step away from meeting Arimis and hugging her, from feeling an embrace that made him feel like an equal, he stopped, wavering.
A frown from Arimis. Booker? Is everything alright?
"A-Arimis. It would feel like a hug to me, right? My mind would trick me into thinking that I'm actually hugging you. But to you..?"
You would be hugging my paw, came the reply, but it is not an unwelcome feeling at all.
"But still... it wouldn't be r-real for you?"
A frown formed. No, I am afraid not.
"A-and neither is this illusion. This isn't really you, either. This whole time it's not really been you, right?"
The red-handed ribombee looked away as the frown remained on her face. ...no.
Booker asked for Arimis to take a seat beside him, and although he realized that the zorua was already sitting behind him, invisible, the illusion complied regardless. It sat just as a real ribombee would, lowering itself and using fluttering wings to cushion the landing; it was clear that Arimis had thought extensively about this day.
It made the sadness Booker saw on her face all the worse as he said, "I'm sorry, Ari, but I don't think I can hug you."
She withdrew from him and the world, her eyes still averted but her ears still listening as he continued, saying, "You don't know how much I appreciate the gesture, r-really, but you said earlier 'someday.' Someday you want to accomplish being able to be yourself, not having to disguise behind an illusion, right?"
A silent nod prompted Booker to continue, raising his hand to her, offering a bridge between themselves though his words, donning an empathetic smile as he spoke, saying, "Then we should let that 'someday' come one day sooner. I don't think cementing yourself behind an illusion is the right thing for you to do, Ari. I wish someone could know how I'm feeling, but you and I already share the same experience of having felt out of place in our bodies. I'd rather hug who I really see eye-to-eye instead of the illusions of one."

Art by Ribombee-anon
Arimis, finally, looked at Booker, her illusory ribombee eyes moving every which way as she contemplated the words in her mind. To Booker's surprise, her eyes appeared angry, and he was quick to say, "O-o-or not! I'm h-happy to hug you in whatever form you prefer!"
But her face softened, and the voice that entered his mind was reassuring, Do not be mistaken, Booker; I am not mad at you, only myself. It was something I practiced in my free time, wanting to connect with you in a way you wanted, but I failed to contemplate how you and I already have a shared story.
"It's okay, Ari. It's such a n-nice gesture and it's the thought that matters. The fact that you would do all this just because I felt like an outcast means so much," Booker said.
Arimis merely nodded. Booker blinked his eyes, and it that instant the ribombee illusion before him disappeared, and in its place was a red paw. But as he looked back, tracing the paw up, he did not see an espeon, but he did not see a zorua either.
Arimis sat behind him, her appearance flickering between the pink fur of an espeon and the black fur beneath. Booker stared into her averted eyes as they looked inward in conflict, seeing how the purple sclera and white irises exchanged themselves for the white-and-blue of zorua.
But the flickering slowed, calmed, as her whole body began to turn a heavy pink, blanketing her black fur. But her eyes met his and she, looking over the white-and-mint pupils of Booker, at last shed the visage of the espeon.
Her light and soft eyes looked over Booker, and he heard echo in his mind, It's hard for me to be like this. Even with my team, I so often feel wrong being like this. Even with just you here in this lonesome glade that no others save for yourself and my team know about, my heart still races.
But I know it's something I want to be. It's my ideal--
Arimis stopped and shook her head. No, it's not. I cannot deny what my ideal is, even after what I left behind at the Chasm. But it is the truth. And accepting the truth seems so far away, so impossible, but I know I have to live my life the way I'd envision it if I'm to finally accept it.
The wind blew through the trees and into the meadow, and Arimis breathed in the gusts that carried the scent of Grass Continent forest and vines mixed with the aroma of Mist Continent flowers. She closed her eyes and let out a silent sigh, enjoying the flow of the breeze through her fur.
Her blue eyes, inherited from her father, were still closed; her thick fur, a result of her ninetails heritage, shifted in the breeze. But even though her espeon illusion was perfect, although the changes her body felt applied to her disguise with great ease and instinct, to be without them made the smallest of differences; she was able to sit after half a lifetime of standing.
Her eyes opened once more, and she saw Booker looking at her, standing upon the rock she had placed him on, where moments ago there had been two ribombees sitting side-by-side.
But the two, even when they were the same height, did not see one another truly; only now did their two eyes finally meet.
Thank you, said the zorua, once more your kindness has helped me. Every day this gets a bit easier, and although I can do this only with a few, I am glad you are among them, Booker.
Arimis's red paw moved an inch closer to her companion. If you would like, you could hug me like this.
Booker responded with action rather than words, spreading his arms and pressing himself against her soft crimson paw, enjoying the soft fluff against his entire body.
Their embrace, unfortunately, would not last forever. It simply could not. Time would pass and the sun would descend, turning the bright blue sky a shade of orange that would signify the two must leave. Booker and Arimis would go from talking about her past and his, from discussing the beauty of the flowers around them, to preparing to depart back for Capim. Before they would even leave the glade, before even reentering the lost path through the rainforests of Grass, Arimis would once more raise her espeon illusion, hiding herself from the greater world. Booker would say nothing of it, only silently sharing her wish of self-acceptance. They would walk the path, Booker the ribombee on top of Arimis the espeon, and return to Capim.
But that was to be away hours from their embrace. Right then and there, it hardly mattered.
The winds blew, and Booker's insect-like biology piqued in interest to the scent the breeze carried, the unfamiliar, exotic smells an entire ocean away, sharp and unwavering aromas mixed with ones that smelled as if they were constantly producing petrichor. A hot, sharp scent from one and a restrained, submarine one from the other; all these wild and foreign smells Booker basked in, wondering what mysteries the greater world had to offer him.
He never felt more excited to bear the title of Explorer.
Another sensation took precedent over the pleasant aroma of flowers; Booker felt another paw against his back. It was admittedly uncomfortable since it crushed his wings, but he said nothing. He instead savored the moment, which—while not with another ribombee, while not with someone his own height—was far better, since it was with Arimis as she truly was.
He never felt more proud to bear her title of friend.

Art by Ribombee-anon