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agonyaster · 2 years ago

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The Bonds We Forge

Mai didn’t get along very well with Lord Kleavor’s previous warden, she can only hope things turn out better with the newest one

today i bring you lian and mai siblingisms. tomorrow? who knows

prefer ao3? read here!

…

Mai balances a basket of freshly-picked aguav berries on top of her head as she swiftly makes her way up the hill; Munchlax marches along beside her, thoroughly displeased with the fact that he hasn’t been given a single berry as a snack. When the basket wobbles he slows down a bit, eyes fixated on the berries nearest to the edge.

The pair crest over the top of the hill and Mai halts. One of the berries topples over the side and Munchlax dives for it, swallowing the berry alongside a mouthful of dirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind much. Mai pays him little attention, frowning as she eyes the figure in front of her cabin. Even from here she can see how their head swivels from side to side, a hand held over their eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun.

Continuing her climb, the figure drops their hand as they spy her, instead choosing to cross their arms across their chest.

“What came up?” Mai asks, raising a brow. “Has Gran gotten worse?”

“Nothing ‘came up,’ excuse you,” Adaman snips. He let his hair grow out; it curls just past his chin, the natural color of his roots peeking through on the dyed streak. “And Gran is fine, you don’t always have to assume the worst.”

Mai takes the basket from off of her head and props it on her hip. Another berry tumbles over the side and Munchlax is positioned perfectly to catch it: only having to look up and open his mouth. He chews with vigor as Mai shakes her head. “I don’t always assume the worst.”

“We’ll go with that.”

“Then why exactly are you here?” she asks, opening the door to the cabin and entering. Adaman and Munchlax follow, the pokémon cutting in front of Adaman and blowing a raspberry.

There’s still sunlight streaming in through the windows, but it weakens as the sun falls lower and lower in the sky. As Mai walks over to the counter, Adaman crouches down and busies himself with starting a fire.

“Do I really have to have a reason to come and visit my big sister?” he huffs, pulling the flint and steel from a small woven basket. He strikes them against one another a few times before actually getting a spark, and soon is hunched over trying to get it to catch.

“No, but you usually do.” Mai tucks the basket of berries away in a high cabinet, Munchlax groaning in protest. “Something about your time being more precious than anyone else's.”

“Hey! I never said that.”

“Not recently, anyway.”

Adaman scoffs and strikes the flint and steel once more, the spark finally catching. He leans down and blows on the flame gently, reaching into the basket and adding a few more sticks. It’s at a comfortable size before long and Adaman leaves it be, sending a glare over his sister. But his gaze soon begins to wander once he realizes that she isn’t paying attention.

He looks around for a few moments, thoroughly underwhelmed by it all. Racks of herbs hang out to dry over in the kitchen; canvases of embroidery and other various needlework are tacked up on the walls for display; a heavy chest sits in the corner, the one that Mai took with her when she first left the settlement to tend to Lord Wyrdeer. With a frown, Adaman stands and walks to the corner where her bedroll is, squatting down with a laugh as he inspects the line of tiny wooden dolls standing at attention.

“You still make these?” he asks as he picks up one of the figures. Running a thumb over its curled antenna, he examines the wooden Kricketot with mild intrigue. “You’re getting pretty good at it.”

Mai glances over her shoulder with a chuckle. “It’s a way to spend the less exciting moments. Comforting, in a way.” She shrugs and turns back to her work. “Took me a bit to learn how to do horns properly, but now Lord Wyrdeer and his children like it when I make replicas of them.”

“Really? Man, that’s weird.”

“You speak ill of our lord?” Mai asks with a devious smile that she hides behind a hand.

“Oh, shut it. You know what I meant.” Adaman places the figure back down and meanders back over to the fire, poking at the logs with a spare stick before relinquishing it to the flames. They crackle, satisfied. “And I don’t need a reason to be here, time with you is time well spent.”

“You really are a flatterer, you know that?”

“I’ve heard it now and again.”

Mai approaches with a tray in her arms and passes it off to Adaman, removing the kettle and placing it over the fire. “Will you be staying long enough for tea? Or should I just make enough for myself?”

“I’ll stick around for tea,” he inspects the jars and herbs laid out on the tray, picking out a few and tossing them into the kettle. “Probably not much after, but don’t say I never do anything for you.”

“Stay the night, it won’t kill you.” Licking her thumb, Mai tucks Adaman’s hair behind his ear before rubbing at the soot on his face. “Besides, I doubt you’ll be able to make it back to the settlement before sundown and I don’t want you wandering out there all alone.”

Adaman groans and pulls away from her but Mai gives chase, glaring at the smudge. “I won’t be alone, I have Leafeon.”

“In the dark, then. I don’t want you wandering out there in the dark.”

“You can just say you want me to stay, Mai.”

“I did. Maybe you should just pay attention a bit more.”

Adaman turns away from her, but Mai can see his embarrassment as it stains the tips of his ears red. It’s a quirk he’s always seemed to hate, and she remembers how he would clamp his hands over his ears when Melli was old enough to talk and started teasing him about it.

She stands with a sigh and snags the tray of teas from her brother, heading back for the kitchen and tucking it away. “Feel free to go if you really want to, but I’ll be making dinner and heading up the cliff to watch the sunset. And you know how Munchlax is when left alone with food, so make your decision quickly.”

“I could take Lord Wyrdeer home,” Adaman mumbles, not bothering to listen to a word she’s said.

“He wouldn’t bother with you unless you played the melody right; you and I both know that’s impossible.”

Adaman crosses his arms, huffing.

He makes it up to her when they’re climbing even farther up the hill, taking the tray laden with their food and cups while Mai handles the teapot. Even Munchlax helps, chasing away any pokémon that are drawn in by the scent of their dinner.

The two settle onto a flat plain of grass right at the top of the mountain after Munchlax chases a small flock of Starly away from the berries they were snacking on. While he stuffs his face with the leftovers, Mai pours a cup of tea for herself and Adaman. It’s not like the stuff she grew up on; the fieldlands don’t have the proper ingredients for it. Not really worth the hassle to try and get someone who still lives at the settlement to bring her any of the good stuff.

“How is Calens doing?” she asks.

“She’s good.” Adaman takes a drink and pulls a face that Mai can help but snort at. “Got way too tall— damn kid is growing like a weed.”

“You were the same way.”

“But that’s different!” he protests, to no real response from Mai. Adaman worries a lip between his teeth, brows pinched together as he contemplates and before too long, he loses his mental battle and gives in. “And… There is actually a reason I came.”

Mai blows on her tea. “Aside from visiting your poor sister? You wound me, Adaman.”

He scowls. “Do you want to hear or not?”

“Considering it was so important that you felt the need to come all the way to the fieldlands… sure. I’ll hear you out.”

Adaman downs the rest of his tea, placing the cup upside down on the tray. “The Pearl Clan has selected a new warden for Lord Kleavor, apparently,” he says.

“Apparently?”

A single-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know anything definitively. It’s just rumors.”

His offhandedness sours Mai’s mood more than she thought it would. “A rumor? So you haven’t actually talked to anyone from the Pearl Clan?” It’s not a question: instead an accusation.

“And why should I have to? It’s their job to come to me as the leader of the Diamond Clan and tell me what they’re —”

“Almighty Sinnoh, would you pull your head out of your ass, Adaman? You are the clan leader now, it is your job to take initiative when it comes to matters like these,” Mai says, voice biting. “And don’t you dare spew shit about how your father ran the clan. You are not him. You will never be him. So don’t try and rule like he did.”

His hands fist in the grass, severing the blades’ connection to the earth as his nails dig into his palms. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“Why not? No one else is going to say it.” Mai takes another drink of tea, gaze steady as she watches the horizon. She can feel Adaman’s eyes burning into the side of her skull. “You should’ve buried those expectations alongside his body.”

He’s silent for some time after that. When Mai finishes her tea and pours herself another cup, she can no longer feel his glare. Munchlax tottles over from a berry tree and flips Adaman’s discarded cup, clumsily pouring tea for himself.

“I hate when you’re right.” Adaman’s voice is muffled as he speaks into his knees, which are tucked up into his chest.

Mai smiles into her cup. “So, always?”

Adaman punches her in the shoulder. She snickers as he does it again and again, weaker with every strike. Eventually he stops, laying spread eagle in the grass and looking up at the stars.

Mai hums. “Kleavor’s getting a new warden. Huh.”

“It was bound to happen.” Adaman rips a fistful of grass from out of the earth and raises his arm up. Loosening the clench of his fist, the blades slip between his fingers and sprinkle back down. “Last one’s been gone for how many months?”

“I know that you dolt, I just… I’m not sure what it is, actually. Maybe it’s just setting in that she’s gone. I mean, she’s not dead or anything—”

Adaman swats at her leg. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

“Won’t miss her too much though, lady was a real nasty piece of work. Hope the next one is better.”

“I doubt it. They’re Pearl Clan, Mai.”

She almost speaks out, but that’s not a battle she needs to be waging today. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll keep an eye out.”

They do little for the rest of the night, watching the sun disappear behind the horizon line as they finish up the tea and the rest of the food. Munchlax polishes off the rest of the bowl, burping with a satisfied sigh as he settles down into Mai’s lap.

Adaman does end up staying the night and his snoring nearly brings down the cabin. Munchlax gets so fed up with it that he stomps out of the house and sleeps outside. Still, it’s the best sleep she’s gotten since leaving the settlement.

He’s halfway out the door when she wakes the next morning, so Mai scowls and crawls out of bed and walks him through the entirety of the fieldlands in her pajamas. She doesn’t regret it until her way back, a mix of sweat and humidity keeping her clothes suctioned to her skin.

After that she goes about her days as usual, spending most of them in Lord Wyrdeer’s favorite grotto as he tends to the newborn Stantler. Twins this year; a sign of good fortune. And not that she’d ever tell him, but they’re cuter than Adaman ever was when he was a baby. She fetches food and water for the lord and the new mother, both unwilling to leave the baby Stantler. Soon the little ones are beginning to take their first steps, legs shaking as they stagger forward a few paces before collapsing to the ground.

More than anything else Mai spends her time entertaining the older Stantler, who want nothing more than to play with their new siblings. Well, some of them want to play. Some of the more ornery ones just want to fight, and whenever they’re not eating or sleeping, or trying to snag the newborns, those Stantler are wrestling with each other.

The worst three aren’t particularly happy that Mai’s stopping them and take it upon themselves to try and chase her out— she almost considers sending word back to the clan asking for a healer with how many times she ends up getting hit with their psychic attacks and subsequently walking herself into a tree. But then they get into a battle that ends when all three sets of antlers get knotted together and the Stantler crying out for help pitifully.

After she saves them, all three disappear into the woods for a good few days. When they come back they’ve lost most of their motivation to try to scare her off. Thank Sinnoh— she isn’t sure how much more her head could take.

Mai trots downhill and towards the river, an empty bucket tucked under each arm. Munchlax stayed back at the cabin for a nap, so she makes the journey alone as clouds roll lazily across the sky. There’s a close call with one of the Geodude that hangs out near the Deertrack Heights, but nothing comes of it and Mai makes it to the bank of the river with little more trouble.

Being sure to stay out of sight from the Buizels rolling around in the sand, she places her buckets down and moves to fill one, but pauses before she dips it in.

There’s a young boy crouched down by the bank of the river, washing berries in the slow-moving current. He’s Pearl Clan, with a hat almost too big for his head, cheeks still plump with baby fat and ruddy with youth. A pickaxe sits next to him, perfectly sized for such a small boy.

Worry lines crease her forehead as Mai watches the boy. What on earth was someone so young doing all the way down here? She’s never been to the Pearl Clan’s settlement up in the icelands, not really important enough to ever merit the journey or the discourse, but she knows it's far. Really far. How long would it have taken someone so young to get down to the fieldlands?

Squinting, she leans forward and tries to inspect the boy closer. He doesn’t… seem particularly tired, but there’s no telling when exactly he would’ve shown up, not as if Mai hasn’t been keeping to herself lately.

“Are you alright?” she finally asks. Her voice carries across the sound of the river, heavy with worry, each syllable low and cautious.

The boy’s head snaps up at the sound of her voice and his hand goes straight for the pickaxe. He looks at her like she’s something stuck to the bottom of his shoe or that a Glameow hacked up on the carpet.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.” He has that Pearl Clan accent all the officials that visit the Diamond settlement do, harsher on the N’s than she’s used to. His hand stays on the pickaxe.

Mai keeps her gaze away from the weapon, instead choosing to look the boy in the eyes. They’re wild, like a feral Luxio about to strike. “You’re just really far from the Pearl settlement, is all. How did you wind up all the way out here?”

Immediately his face blooms bright red and his nostrils flare. “I— how dare you!” he spits, voice trembling. He puffs out his chest and puts his hands on his hips, standing the slightest bit taller as he glares at Mai.

It’s only then, of course, that she sees the band around his wrist. The dark polish of the wood, the gold detailing, the precisely-carved visage of Lord Kleavor. All of it points to one thing alone and Almighty Sinnoh, could this have gone worse? Well, probably. No need to jinx it, come on now.

“I apologize, Warden, I meant no insult to you or to your clan.” Mai bows her head, the back of her neck burning in the harsh midday sun. “I’d been informed that Lord Kleavor was getting a new warden, but I didn’t realize it would be so soon.”

When she looks up the boy has crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth pressed into a harsh scowl. He says nothing.

Well, no need to lose her manners. “My name is Mai, and it has been my duty to tend to—”

“Lord Wyrdeer, I know. Why wouldn’t I know that?” he’s still angry, albeit less so than before. The red on his cheeks is starting to fade away as well, and he adjusts his hat to keep it from falling over his eyes. “Of course I know that.”

“Again, I apologize for my mistake. I hope we can learn to work together in the future.”

“Goodbye, Warden Mai,” the boy spits as he turns on his heel and stomps away, clearly not interested in anything she might have to say.

Mai shakes her head as she watches him leave, and can’t help but be a little disappointed. This sort of behavior is something she should’ve expected, but that doesn’t mean it stings any less. Her father used to say it was a fact of the world: the sun rose in the east and set in the west; the moon had its phases; and the Diamond Clan will always hate the Pearl Clan.

But Almighty, he’s just a kid! Around Calens’ age from the look of him, maybe a little bit older. Why would the Pearl Clan pick someone so young? Was he really the best they had? In the Diamond Clan, candidates for the next generation of wardens were chosen young, but never that young. And they didn’t even begin their intensive training until well after Lian’s age.

Mai shakes her head, trying not to think too hard about her newest neighbor as she fills the buckets with water and starts making her way back up to the grove.

Over the course of the next few weeks the new baby Stantler are up and about, joining their mother and siblings out for walks across Horseshoe Plains. Mai sees them prancing around with some of the Ponyta, bounding over the shallow pools of water as their mothers watch on fondly. Lord Wyrdeer is back on his hooves as well: she spies him leaving Deertrack Heights with a herd of Stantler just before the sun rises, the group returning at sundown the following day, all of the Stantler completely exhausted. It’s nice to see him teaching the little ones who’s in charge.

As she returns to her normal duties, Mai can’t help but notice the little traces the other warden ends up leaving behind. A few wet footprints leading away from Oreburrow Tunnel, neat lines sliced into the bark of trees around The Heartwood; small things that she doesn’t notice until she starts to keep an eye out for them.

Mai adjusts the hatchet where it’s strapped to her belt as she trudges along the outskirts of The Heartwood. She never likes staying here for long: too close to Lord Kleavor’s proper dwelling for her tastes, but with all the firewood weighing her down it would be stupid to try and go one of the more treacherous paths. So instead she hugs the treeline and marches forward slow enough that the few Psyduck milling about the area don’t bother her.

She’s only made it about halfway to the bridge when she hears it: the incessant buzzing of a swarm of Combee. Not so unusual, except that there’s no reason for them to be swarming. Even at the peak of pollination season back in the mirelands they only moved places two or three at a time— the only time Mai’s seen a whole hive of Combee start to swarm is when a new Vespiquen is made.

Well, that and when they’re angry. Mai’s known for a long time that not all buzzing is created equal. She can still remember the unbearable throbbing, aching, itching pain across her entire body when she got attacked as a child after sneaking out with Adaman to the Droning Meadow. She also remembers the lecture she got from the clan healer as she rubbed a sticky salve on Mai’s wounds. And the way Adaman’s father berated her for putting him in danger like that before his rage faded away and his voice went quiet as he thanked her for keeping Adaman safe.

Instinct tells her to drop the firewood and get out of there as fast as she can before the swarm even has a chance to find her. The buzzing is getting louder: they’re roaming the forest, hunting. But something else stops her, a nagging voice in the back of her head that keeps her feet planted firmly to the earth. What made them so mad? it asks.

All of the pokémon found in The Heartwood are perfectly happy with the discarded honeycomb that litters the forest floor, if they want any at all. But humans? A warden, preparing a meal for their lord? Stale leftovers wouldn’t do.

With little more deliberation, Mai turns and plunges into the forest. She pulls the hatchet from her belt and hacks away at some of the thickest parts of the underbrush as she moves through the trees. The sound of buzzing fades in and out, more pokémon starting to emerge from their hidey-holes as the swarm moves on.

Mai only finds what she’s looking for because a Buneary finds it first: hops right up to a nearby bush and sniffs at it curiously. Something rustles within it, shooing the little thing off, and the Buneary squeaks in alarm, disappearing into the forest.

“Warden?” she approaches slowly, stooping low to the ground as she does, only now realizing she never learned the boy’s name. “The Combee are gone, you can come out.”

She almost thinks its a pokémon in there until a cautious voice responds

“How far?”

“They’re down by that little island just north of here, where all the Psyduck like to play.”

“You’re sure?”

She takes a moment to look around. “I’m sure.”

With some fierce rustling, the young warden begins to emerge from the thicket. It takes a few seconds— kid’s tucked himself away pretty damn well— but when he pops out the warden yanks a few twigs out of his hair and places his hat back on with a huff. he tries to play it off but Almighty Sinnoh, poor kid is covered in welts. Bright, angry splotches of color are all over his face, run up and down his arms.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he barks, glaring up at Mai with as much defiance he can muster. He tugs down his sleeves, hiding those stings from view. “I don’t need your help!”

He stomps past her, but Mai reaches out and snags his arm before she can really think about it. “I’m not going to let you leave and let those fester. You’ll get sick.”

“You sound just like Calaba. I’m fine!” he insists.

Mai doesn’t see why that’s such a bad thing. Warden Calaba has lived in the mirelands tending to Lord Ursaluna for longer than Mai’s been alive. Every reckless child of the Diamond Clan has been tended to by her at some point, too far away from the settlement to meet with their actual healer. But aside from that, for some reason she can’t help but notice how he says Calaba’s name— the syllables rapid-fire one after the other, melding together as they roll off the tongue. Mai doesn’t think she could replicate it if she tried.

“I know Warden Calaba and she is a perfectly respectable woman.”

“She’s an old coot, that’s what she is.”

“You should respect your elders.”

“I’ll start respectin’ em when they finally have something respectable to say.”

With a shake of the head Mai adjusts her grip on the young warden’s arm and starts to walk through the forest, dragging him along with her. He fights it at first but gives up before long, resigned to his fate.

“You never told me your name, warden,” Mai says as she reaches to the pouches at her waist, fishing out a few dried herbs and a small mortar.

“What? No, I did. You forgot,” he blusters. “I definitely did!”

Mai turns her back to him as she fills the mortar with a small amount of water, but it does good to hide her smile as well. There’s something so charming about his stubbornness, how his nose scrunches up in distaste. At the very least, it seems to be the best for her to play along. No need to make things worse than they already are.

“I apologize for my forgetfulness. How about we redo introductions?” She sprinkles a few different herbs into the bowl. “Warden Mai, of the Diamond Clan.”

Silence for a few moments. “Warden Lian of the Pearl Clan.”

She tries her best to mimic the way he says it with a longer ‘e’ sound in the middle. Lian shakes his head and she tries a few more times before he’s satisfied, fudding and sitting down on a rock as he tells her it’ll do.

“Did you never learn how to make a salve for Combee stings?” she asks as she adds slices of pecha to the mixture, popping the leftovers into her mouth and offering one to Lian.

“We don’t have them in the icelands,” he explains, nibbling at the slice of berry. “I never needed to.”

Picking up her hatchet, Mai uses the butt end of the handle to start grinding the mixture into a paste. “Did the previous warden not teach you? Seems like something that should fall under her jurisdiction.”

“Of course not!” Lian scoffs. “She’s older than dirt and dumber than a box of rocks.”

With a reluctant shrug, Mai finds herself agreeing. Turning back to the salve, she works it over as soft peaks soon begin to form in the salve. Dipping two of her fingers into it, she turns to Lian expectantly. Sighing, he takes off his hat and hugs it to his chest.

His face scrunches up as she begins to apply the salve to the stings on his cheeks, nose wrinkling at the smell. Once she’s done there, Mai has Lian roll up his sleeves and she’s sure to coat those stings as well.

“It’ll help with the itching and swelling,” she explains as she goes for a second pass on his face, doing a few touch ups on his cheeks with the leftovers. “You should be okay in a few days, but if it does start acting up just smear some mud on them. Works pretty well too.”

“Okay.” Lian tugs his hat back on and then pulls his sleeves back down, being careful not to disturb any of the salve. “Thanks, Warden Mai. Do ya want help leaving the forest?”

With a nod and a smile, he begins to lead her through The Heartwood. And to his credit, Lian does seem to know what he’s doing and where he’s going, getting her to the edge of the trees in record time.

The two part ways, Mai heading for Tidewater Dam as Lian ducks back into the forest and is quickly consumed by the shrubbery. She heads back home to be greeted by Munchlax, who’s increasingly frustrated at the fact she didn’t leave any food for him within arms reach. Still, he seems to forget all about it when she reaches down and scratches between his ears.

Surprisingly, Mai doesn’t have to wait long to see Lian again— it only takes a day, in fact.

She finds him between Nature’s Pantry and Windswept run, perched at the peak of the highest hill in the area. One of Lord Wydeer’s children finds him first, and prances around Lian joyously as Mai hikes up to join them.

“What brings you all the way out here?” she asks, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

Lian has no response, hunched over something as he dutifully scratches away at it. Curiosity gets the better of her and Mai peeks over his shoulder, stealing a glance.

It’s a map. Half-finished, sure, but clearly a map of the Obsidian Fieldlands. Right now he’s carving out the base shape of Ramanas Island, pausing every few moments to glance back out at it in the distance. Raising his left hand, he stacks three of his fingers against the horizon before humming and making a few more marks to the map.

More than anything, Mai’s just surprised at how good the map is. Even as it is now, it looks a hell of a lot more useful than any of the old things she was given when she first left for the fieldlands.

“You can make maps?” she asks. Finally it draws something out of him, a nod.

“Most in the clan can.”

Mai’s brows draw up, a little confused and a little intrigued. Being a cartographer is hard, there’s only ever the master and maybe an apprentice if the master was getting up there in age.

“Really?”

“We kinda have to. Everythin’ looks the same once you go far enough north. ‘n if the weather gets really bad you really can’t tell the difference. So we make up for it by havin’ good maps that everyone can read and add to. Not that hard to understand.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

She doesn’t know how long it is, but Mai just sits and watches him work for a while. Every now and then she asks a question— why does he keep doing that thing with his fingers, what was the reason for having just so many different tools and trinkets— but for the most part she’s just content to sit and watch. Lian doesn’t seem to mind all that much and keeps scratching away at the paper.

But then he finishes up as much of the island that he can and starts to pack up. The graphite stick and all the other tools are tucked away into one of the pouches at his waist, the map itself rolled up tight and gingerly placed into a cylindrical case that he corks shut and slings over his shoulder.

“I get to ask some questions now.”

“Hm?”

“I told you about cartography, now you have to tell me about something. It’s only fair.”

“Well there's a lot to pick from. Just depends on what you want to know.”

Without hesitation, Lian points to her shoulder. “That.”

A little confused, Mai glances down at herself. “Oh, the embroidery?”

He nods and pokes the snout of the Ursaring on the shoulder of her tunic. “Yeah.”

With a gleam in her eye, the pair start to move across the fieldlands as Mai goes about explaining the different knots and stitches and the meanings of every symbol or pokémon carefully sewn into her clothing.

After that, they stop pretending it’s just happenstance that brings them together. They meet up at least twice a week, usually more, to talk and to teach and to learn. She starts to draw maps with Lian’s supervision, his dark eyes intense as he watches her ink the coastline along Horseshoe Plains. Mai spends a whole day on it, and at the end when she passes the map off to Lian for a proper grading, he barely gives it a second glance as he crumples it up and feeds it to Munchlax.

She’s more than ticked off and in the following days when he has her draw it over and over, disposing of the finished product every time. But after a week or so, Mai can’t help but notice how she’s getting faster, even when Lian tells her to map out somewhere else.

They take a break from cartography for a bit so she can teach him embroidery. Lian picks it up pretty quickly but he tends to ramble when he sews. It’s usually about mining and it makes him stick his fingers with the needle more often than not, but Lian doesn’t really seem to care. He just sucks the blood away from whichever finger was the latest casualty and keeps on talking.

When he finishes his first piece, a quaint little thing of a sleeping Swinub, he gives her a stone in thanks. It’s a deep orange and slightly warm to the touch, and she keeps it snug and safe inside her trunk back at the cabin.

When a storm brings down a tree limb not too far from their usual meeting spot, the two spend the day whittling together. Lian’s a little less experienced but makes a few misshapen baby Scyther just fine, quickly learning how to hold the blade just right and scrape away at the wood. As Mai carves out the shape of an Ursaring’s paw he starts to talk about his life back in the icelands.

The conversation ebbs and flows and Mai finds herself telling a few stories of her own, Lian howling with laughter when she tells him about Adaman’s pitiful flute skills and how they made Leafeon run away for two days. When it’s his turn to tell stories, Lian mentions his mother in most of them. Mai can’t help but picture her as a woman with a wide grin and wild hair, laughing raucously as she fishes her young son out of a snowbank.

Over the course of a few days he slowly whittles a Goodra figure for his mother— she’s managed to tame one, apparently. And though she's never seen one before, Mai can't help but wonder if they really look like that.

On one of their days together they both lose track of time, hunched over their respective projects and not bothering to look up until it's completely dark out. Refusing to let him go all the way back to The Heartwood alone, Mai makes a quick curry for the both of them and sets out another bedroll. Lian inhales the food, sputtering slightly at the foreign taste before thanking her and heading off to bed.

He curls up into a tight ball when he sleeps, forming a bit of a cocoon out of the blankets as he twists around. She supposes it makes sense: something about preserving heat. Doesn’t make it any less adorable.

A week after that, Munchlax decides to wander off while Mai is busy chopping firewood. He wanders so far that she doesn’t find him anywhere in or around the cabin, or even anywhere near the Deertrack Heights. Even Lord Wyrdeer seems at a loss for answers.

She’s wandering the woods calling out for Munchlax with a hoarse voice when Lian finds her. He snatches her by the hand and leads her into a thicket, where he pauses just before a Combee hive— a massive one. Lian marches up to the hive and sticks his hand straight into it, the Combee buzzing around amicably as he yanks it back out. His fist is wrapped tight around a chunk of honeycomb dripping with the sweet golden liquid. Moving a few paces, he slathers the trunk of a nearby tree with as much honey as he can before breaking the piece of comb in half and offering one side to Mai.

She accepts and they eat as Lian takes them back through the woods. It’s got a tangy sweet taste, sharper than she expected. The chewy texture and mild waxy flavor of the comb only adds to the experience, and before she knows it Mai’s scarfed down the entire thing. Lian finishes just after she does and the two make a quick pit stop to wash their hands off in a stream that creeps its way through The Heartwood.

He cooks for the two of them that night, a stew with a flavor that tickles the back of her throat, and he promises that Munchlax would be home first thing in the morning.

And sure enough, when they stop by the honey tree the next day and Lian gives it a harsh shake— Munchlax tumbles from the branches, landing right at Mai’s feet.

Things are good. Or well, they’re good until someone from the Pearl Clan comes to visit. It’s not someone Mai recognizes, and despite his hostility, she tries her best to be cordial.

The man takes Lian with him, and despite the fact that he’s gone for only two days, things are… different when he comes back. He doesn’t come to their meets any longer, turns the other way when the two run into each other. When Mai actively starts to seek him out she nearly gets her head blasted off by his new, erm, friend.

Turns out Lian wasn’t exaggerating when he described Goodra to her. Almighty Sinnoh, the thing is massive and it glares down at her more often than not. It usually ends up wedging itself between her and Lian, firing off a warning shot before turning around and thundering off into the forest, Lian often not far behind it.

But from what little she does actually see of him, not much about Lian has changed except his attitude. Well, that and his hat. Before it was just plain white; a little dirty, sure, but every part of Lian was a little dirty. Now, a large greenish-blue gem is affixed to it, secured with a thick golden chain and clasp.

The sight of it makes something in her stomach roll a little. It’s obviously valuable, something a little too valuable to entrust to someone so young without good reason.

Mai’s curled up by the fire, careful not to tangle her thread as she adds speckles of stars to the sky. The storm outside is so loud that she can hardly hear herself think, so she doesn’t know how she hears it. Maybe it’s the repetition, maybe it’s the growing feeling of unease in her gut that compels her.

No matter what it is, Mai sets her work aside and walks to the door. After a moment of hesitation she undoes the latch and opens the door the slightest crack to peer out into the inky blackness.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the petite figure stood at the stoop of the cabin.

“Almighty— what the hell are you doing?” Mai demands, shoving the door open the rest of the way and ushering Lian inside.

He mumbles something that might be an apology as she slams the door shut, pressing her whole body against it to make sure it stays that way. Lian just stands in the entryway awkwardly, head bowed as his clothes drip water onto the floor. Poor kid is shaking like a leaf, and be it from cold or from fear Mai doesn’t really care.

Her body moves faster than her mind does, placing a gentle hand on his back and guiding him to sit down by the fire. She yanks off his waterlogged boots and tosses them vaguely towards the front of the cabin, standing up and fetching a change of clothes from her own stores. Lian hardly seems to notice: staring directly into the flames, watches as they lick at the logs and slowly begin to consume the wood.

Mai pulls the kettle off of the fire and takes it with her over towards the kitchen, where she scrambles to put together a tea. Mind moving faster than her hands, Mai scrambles to come up with any reason he might be here. The Hippowdon in the room is still there, lying untouched as Mai dances around the idea. She can’t ask, not now. Even once the tea is steeped and she loads it all onto a tray to bring back, she has no better ideas.

She half expected Lian to refuse the Diamond Clan tunic, but she supposes even the proudest will crumble when freezing. It’s one of her older, smaller tunics; yet it still dwarfs him, the fabric nearly swallowing him whole.

Mai approaches slowly, setting the tray down as she sits next to Lian. Turning to look at him, she finally notices the tears that leak out of his eyes as he stares into the fire. As if he can feel her gaze on him, Lian pulls his attention away from the flames and over to Mai.

When they lock eyes, the floodgates open.

Fat tears roll down his cheeks and the entire cabin is filled with the sound of Lian’s wailing— his breath hitches and staggers as he curls in on himself, shaking violently.

Before she can think on it too hard Mai’s pulling Lian in close, running a hand through his hair and shushing him quietly. He buries his face in her shoulder and screams even louder, a mix of tears and snot and spit soaking the front of her tunic. His words are nothing but strings of meaningless babbling, but if she strains Mai can make out something that she recognizes. It’s in the tongue of the Pearl Clan, a word that he taught her, back when they whittled their first figures together. Mother.

Mai hates that she was right.

She holds him even tighter, begins to rock back and forth as she sings a lullaby from her own childhood into his hair. From there, ever so slowly, Lian loses his fire. It seeps out of him like the gentlest trickle of water through a dam until he’s cried himself to sleep.

#mai #warden mai #warden lian #lian #lian pokemon #mai pokemon #adaman #writing #pla #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon #got this out on my birthday and then forgor to post here #whoopsies #twirls my hair #hellooooooo pla fans

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