A breeze of crisp, spring air blew across the lakeshore of Route 2. Many trainers have already started their journeys, leaving Wedgehurst with endorsements in hand from Professor Sonia. Some trainers had decided to camp out at the Route, while most of the others immediately embarked on a train towards Motostoke.
A pair of scarlet red eyes glanced towards the direction of the wind. The small tuft of ghostly ectoplasm on the little spectre's head wavered in the wind, absentmindedly photosynthesizing with what little leaves it had on its woody horns, observing the lakeside. Pretty much nothing caught the phantom's interest at the moment- it was blatant in the expression its wooden complexion offered towards the wilderness as it silently followed his trainer, mirroring his apathy.
The dual-type had to admit though, it was a good day. Route 2 was a rather tame area- it was an ideal settlement for the locales, with it having a fresh source of food from the lake, which had densely populated waters that housed docile inhabitants- except for the occasional Arrokuda and Chewtle. The Pokèmon in the grass have been frightened by the pair's demeanor, even Chewtles, notorious for their peckish and arrogant display of territorial disputes, actually find themselves scampering away in fear- despite one of the perpetrators of the induced fright wearing a rather dumb-looking, albeit fluffy hat.
Well, it being a hat was actually far from the truth. A Swablu; not native to the region, despite it being a seemingly fitting species that could've and should've been capable enough to inhabit this region with their migratorial compatibility, was nestled within the confines of the curly mop of ruffled hair of its trainer in a tranquil state, serenely shutting its eyelids as it hummed a melodious tune.
Nevertheless, Harke R. Nacres wasn't particularly displeased nor elated by the extra weight his Swablu, Chanson, had promptly and comfortably (for both parties involved) placed herself on. His Phantump, Aarne, held the same disposition as his trainer, blankly staring forward as they continued down the dirt path.
They had already visited Professor Magnolia's humble abode near the lakeside, in order to validate and renew Harke's old endorsement. Aarne vaguely remembers the lady- She was already a considerably frail senior when both he, someone else, and his trainer had met her in a town filled with glowing fungi, however, he couldn't recall the details their meeting held.
Harke had explained and shown to him and Chanson about the phenomenon of Dynamaxing while they were in the middle of their journey in Kalos- which in turn bewildered the ghostly stump and made the pillowy winged avian starry-eyed. Aarne wasn't sure what made his trainer suddenly decide and ask them if it were okay for them to transfer his gym challenge with them to Galar, however, he wasn't infuriated at the loss of progress. The abruptness of the suggestion caught the spectre off guard- and it worried him so. Chanson remained passive about how unanticipated it was as well- however she didn't want to press her own trainer for details, her soul prevailing to be far too gentle and kind to pry for more information. Besides, she was a bird, and human problems tend to be quite complicated- it honestly might cause her brain to convulse in pain in an attempt to comprehend and empathize.
The Phantump's gaze shifted towards his trainer, as he drifted off to his side. The adolescent was incredibly adept at masking emotions (and so was Aarne, a trait he had gained from being with him for so long), but nonetheless, it was futile to feign a stoic facade to the ghost,
considering their rather lengthy history together. Curiosity had tugged at the edge of his mind wherever they went- it kept growing on him like some sort of tumor as they went from place to place.
...Yet, out of respect, Aarne conformed to remaining quiet about whatever unsettled his trainer inside. He had once been human. Perhaps whatever it was would eventually pass.
Their destination was Motostoke Stadium to register and apply Harke in Galar's gym challenge. For them to accomplish that, however, they first needed to return to Wedgehurst in order to take the train to Motostoke.
...Aarne would admit that the system was quite grandiloquent, although it was to be expected from a region with a phenomenon that gigantifies Pokèmon to absurd sizes. Kalos didn't have this sort of formalities present in the application for its trainers, endorsements and all, and that's a big compliment(?) coming from one native to the region- considering that Kalos itself could be interpreted as the literal embodiment of regal flamboyance at its finest. Harke had partially agreed to this before, as he had exhibited slight boredom at the mere spectacle of the endorsement letter. It would be safe to
assume that both of them aren't too fond of paperwork and oratory wordplay.
...Ah, there he was once again- lost in his thoughts. The ghost's crimson eyes refocused on his blurry surroundings, recognizing streets and buildings surrounding them, as crowds of people with their Pokèmon interact with one another. Chanson had stopped humming a long time ago and had her beady, small eyes peeked out from her cloudy wings as she too, observed the friendly socialization that was out and about from Harke's head. His trainer had sustained his poker face as he took minor glances on to his phone, following the directions instructed by it towards the train station. Aarne had noticed that he already had purchased a ticket, as said sheet of paper was firmly grasped in his trainer's palm.
Aarne decided that he should really resign from spacing out every now and again. It probably was how he got himself killed in the first place.
