[PKMN FULL] Shifting Sands [T]

Dr. Delta Salen & Scara

[Art by Haychel]

Fellows' statement roused a vigorous nod of approval from one faded lilac peer who had appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere.

"Excellent advisement! It's of everyone's best interest to consider it." The light in the Espeon's eyes opposed the brightness in his voice. He sent a look of expectancy in the Psi Pokemon's direction, a 'what-I'd-anticipate-from-one-of-your-kind' sort of glance.

"We can't expect them all to understand," Ali added under his breath with a humorous twitch of his forked tail, an almost knowing glow to his pointed purple eyes; Ali expected Felix was on the same page as he. His words and his motions were subtle but not incomprehensible in any sort. Perhaps his subtly even dwindled while pointing out the bubbly Wartortle and the clomping Kangaskhan in-particular. Either way, Ali was relatively elusive but not at all as enigmatic as he perceived himself.

It was his encounter of approximately twenty-six minutes prior where he'd taken heat for attempting an enigmatic role.

The ride to Nazratu's Tomb had been uncomfortable on Ali's end, as he spent some time positioned on a Rapidash's end. It was decidedly atypical for a quadruped to mount another (...for transportation reasons...) and the Espeon was adamant in not taking on a bipedal stance. As far as he and his esteemed species was concerned, all paws belonged at equal level. This stubbornness did cost him comfort for the first half or so of the ride, the Rapidash grumbling all the while as Ali attempted to balance atop of him before at last giving in, mimicking Dr. Salen by placing his hind legs on either side of the fiery equestrian.

Ali's satchel had hung off his left shoulder all this time and he turned his attention towards its contents now, disinterested with the desert "scenery". The sand rushed past him and his transporter and his transporter's companion of similar species with every grand gust of wind. Ali had reduced his eyes to violet slits now and the Rapidash made their flaming manes indiscernible to reduce irritation from the sandy conditions. It was difficult to see any of their surroundings, not that the endlessly rolling dunes of a desert landscape were so enrapturing anyways.

Beneath him, the carrier Rapidash busied themselves in a one-on-one conversation with their female fellow who had decided for whatever purpose to accompany him. Ali caught snippets of their talk as he flipped through the pages of his journal, lifting a pencil through telekinesis—it was a fine opportunity to add some meager details to the skeleton of his thrilling conclusion. The Fire Horses spoke in Arabic but Ali had studied just enough of his dictionary to somewhat understand the topics in which they discussed. At this point, his transporter let out a snort of vexation about the weather. Not understandably—were sandstorms of this exertion so rare in a desert environment? Then again, Rapidash were never intended for such an environment in the first place.

"Ahbal..." Ali caught the lady Rapidash mutter and again, his curiosity was peeked. In what sense would they consider a sandstorm 'foolish', unless he were misunderstood. But then her companion spat something else much cruder, he suspected, based on her expression. Ali then noticed the Rapidash look in his direction but what truly revealed the subject of their exchange was how she refused to face him directly, turning her head just in time to avoid eye contact.

It's obvious. They're talking about me. It certainly took a lot of nerve to mouth a client, no matter who the worker was, and the Espeon felt especially disrespected when these insults arose from the mouth of a Rapidash, a fieldworker. He could care less the exact definition of the words, only that they were words of harm passive-aggressively pointed in his direction. Considering the Pokemon involved, this should not be acceptable. According to Aqil, Yegyptian hierarchy was more or less the same as overseas, after all. The particular Fire Horse should have little excuse for ignorance.

So Ali blurted, suddenly: "According to my studies, 'Ya homaar' roughly translates to 'son of a donkey', doesn't it?" These words caught the Rapidash off-guard, the male stopping abruptly and the fire around their hooves alighting briefly from shock.

"Aw, shoot! 'm sorry, sir. Weren't talkin' of you." He hadn't expected the foreigner to understand their words. A foolish mistake. Suppose he makes a lot of those.

"Oh, I understand," Ali countered curtly. "I suppose you were insulting some other mule, then?"

"Some other mule... No, sir, we were talkin' 'bout another Psychic, actually, but he wasn't like yourself. Treatin' a humble worker as they should be."

"Oh?" Observing the Rapidash's hardly-apologetic tone and grave expression, the Espeon immediately thought: He must consider me a common idiot. The excuse was so thinly veiled, so unnecessarily fluffed with self-pity, Ali felt himself swell with rage at first sound of it. It was difficult to describe what provoked him most. The self-righteousness of the implication that worker species deserved any sense of praise for some supposed humility was a good place to begin. He had heard the argument once before but had already heard enough, it was sickening. The Rapidash must have been participating in a pity fest that entire time, probably thinking lesser and lesser of him as the minutes passed. He was not, in fact, unintelligent. He heard the bitterness in his transporter's voice. He noticed the way he dragged his hooves before finally resuming movement. He saw the way the female Rapidash bite her leg and jog along nervously from the very corner of his eye.

If he hadn't made his apparent from the very appalled look on his face, this Espeon was furious. When Ali was furious, he cared for little more than to implant the same sense of fury into those that had invoked his own. And thus, Ali barked: "Well, if there's anything I can't stand more than a 'son of a donkey', it's something that doesn't know their place."

The words hit his carrier severely, at full force. "What!?" Just a single word packed such indescribable indignation as the Rapidash nearly injured themselves, snapping their head back to glare threateningly at their passenger.

"Adel, keel calm!" The female Rapidash was involved now, stepping closer to the duo who had locked impenetrable and fiercely angry stares. "Please! There's no need for disrespect!" This was very obviously targeted towards Ali though the female spoke broadly, as a mother would address an entire group of children while only meaning to reprimand one troublemaker. Ali hated it.

"Yes, we shouldn't be standing around moping and shouting, should we? We should be working our way towards the destination and living up to our purpose."

"My purpose...!? Why you've the nerve...!"

"Don't dare deny it! You're a fieldworker, a Rapidash! You do what you are meant, destined and built to do! Questioning that is ineffective!"

"Yeah, I'm just a fieldworker, eh?" The Rapidash was riled yet mocking as they spoke to Ali, his pelt going as hot as the Fire type's mane might have been. "I don't 'ave no other uses, right? But you've got plenty 'cause you're a fancy shmancy psychic type who's smart 'n' better at everything! Not to mention rich, right? Isn't that how it works?"

"I suppose it is if we're going by your primitive logic, then yes, I am obviously your superior! There's no point in arguing further if you've already convinced yourself! So, now, instead of wasting your only potential and my time, why don't we resume our route to the temple, hasanana?"

At this point, they were both at their wit's end, the other Rapidash lingering behind, too reluctant and stunned by either's ranting to say anything herself; a most incompetent peacekeeper. The other Rapidash was lagging too. The Espeon's words must still have been churning about in his under-developed mind... But it was then a most awful scowl crossed his yellow snout and his eyes clouded with a different sort of rage. "Take you to the temple!? I'd rather drown in the Nile!" he spat.

It was then Ali felt the Rapidash's body turn around violently before he lost his grip upon the Fire type's back and he felt himself lurching into the air. Movement was beyond his control as he sailed high and sunk low, colliding with a sandy bank just beyond his ex-carrier's hooves. A stable-minded Ali would have seen the bucking from a mile away, but a temperamental Ali now staggered to his feet now as the Rapidash galloped off in direction of the stables as to avoid repercussions. Ali called after them: "You're good-for-nothings, the both of you are!" They had already vanished from sight.


"Fiends..." He said this between a series of violent hacks that shook his fragile figure. The smoothness of the Espeon's velvet fur was interrupted with brittle pieces of sand. His pelt itself was disturbed by the abrasive winds, sending endless sprays of sand airborne. The Rapidash, who he decided were the equivalent of flaming trash piles at this point, had dumped him closer to the ruins than expected. At the very top of the sand dunes he could just seem them through the worsening sandstorm, the ancient walls tucked behind rocky formations, tall enough to shield from the rough conditions. Ali sat on the staircase just outside now.

His hacking coughs echoed just outside the entrance. The others had begun their ascent up the stairs and through the darkened doorway just as he had stumbled towards them, though they'd paid him no backwards glance. They could not afford to in their excitement, that was understandable. Ali probably failed to stand out from the piles of sand, dust and debris. He felt, as he steadily groomed himself, that the majority of the desert had come off in his fur. Ali regretted deeply the lack of comb of brush among his supplies. A cloth in which to protect his eyes, nose and throat from the sandstorm were much preferred as well. The journey, albeit short-lived, was still a nightmarish one for Ali. Oh, had the sand stung his eyes and nostrils. Oh, how he felt it chipping away steadily at his strength...

"I need to keep going..." His voice rasped at first, from the grit. Ali was soon on his paws, however. His eyes still slightly stung. Some sand still clung in his fur and his back was still relatively sour from being flung from the back of a Fire Horse, but he decided this discomfort was not worth sacrificing time in the tomb for. A few sips of Berry Juice and just a second so more designated for additional grooming and that was all that was necessary. Ali needn't not reflect anymore on his health, not now. And he could never improve if he never pushed himself.

He stepped into the tombs. The walkway was intimidating at first glance but he heard the voices reverberating off the cavernous walls from the other side and it prevented him from lingering extensively. Silently, he padded across but stopped at the very end, took time to observe who exactly he was partnering with for this expedition. The Charmleon's tail flame proved useful for detailing the faces of his peers: Dr. Salen and his Joltik were expected. There appeared to be, besides the Charmeleon, a bulky Kangaskhan, a little Wartortle... figures insignificant when paired to the Alakazam. The simplest sight of a fellow Psychic was enough of a decent first impression, Ali decided, as he secretly joined them.​