This room is suffocatingly dark. There are windows, yes, but they are shrouded in heavy black drapery. The only light source is a solemn Litwick flickering silently on a desk.
A human stands in front of me. He is an adult, but a young one. His presence is commanding, poise perfect, appearance stunning. Like his windows he is shrouded in dark cloth, perfectly tailored to his figure. Lace accents his clothing while eyeliner accents his eyes, which are focused on me with an air of appraisal. One hand cradles his chin, the other loosely holds a PokéBall at his side.
Humans were not a common sight where I lived before. I do not know much about them, but they must vary wildly. This one is much different than the one who stole me away from my clan in Hoenn. I am not sure yet if this one is kind, but so far he is not cruel. His air of superiority does not sit well with me, but I have been taught to keep my thoughts hidden. I assume my usual position of meditation. It is a small comfort.
After a long moment, he tosses the PokéBall away. "It will do, I suppose."
I gather that "it" must be a reference to myself. How demeaning; as if I am incapable of hearing these words! He does not seem interested in me, even as he circles me. As he returns to my line of sight, he is holding something small and silver. "Stand up," he demands. "Hold your arms out to the sides, straight."
I would rather not comply. I do not know this person's intentions. However, I now know that it is easier to obey than withstand punishment. I have learned that many times over, recently. I stand slowly to do what I am told. He kneels beside me, extending a thin piece of the object and holding it up to various parts of me. After every action, he writes something down. His appraisal is objectifying, and I do not appreciate it. I know that I am tensing, as I was taught not to. I focus on breathing and begin to block out the physical world.
He finishes whatever he was doing, tossing aside the object in the same careless manner as he did the PokéBall earlier, which he now picks up. "Very well. I am done with you." He pauses, head tilted. "Your name is Requiem," he adds, almost as an afterthought. A click of the PokéBall drags me back into solitary stasis.
---
I am let out to eat with another Pokémon. They do not speak. The food is hard, dry, processed. I do not like it, but I do not know if I will ever have anything beyond it and water. I am recalled after I finish.
---
I am let out again. The room is as it has always been- dark, quiet, claustrophobic. I have not seen sky in who knows how long. The time I managed a glance through a window, I saw only smog. I miss the fresh air, the natural environment. I miss my berries; this food does little to nourish me.
The trainer is holding folded cloth in his hands. His eyes are appraising again. "This will at least make you presentable."
I look on in confusion as he unfolds the cloth. It is reminiscent of the trainer's own clothing but tailored perfectly to my own body. I have never worn clothing; it is not a custom my people have ever had need of. I think if I were to have chosen clothing, though, it would not be like this. My clothing would be colored like the leaves of trees or the rich brown of trunks and dirt. It would be loose around me, enough so that I am not restricted but not so much that I am hindered. It would not be… this.
I understand that I am meant to don the garment. I do not wish to. I remain seated and partially close my eyes. The trainer's lips curve down into a frown, his gaze hardens, and his posture becomes one of displeased authority rather than indifference.
"Put the clothes on, Requiem. We're going out."
Requiem. That is my name now. I had forgotten. It does not sound like me. My name is Ammédi; I will not answer to Requiem. I remain motionless and consider closing my eyes in true defiance, but I do not know what this trainer may do if I am not looking.
"You would rather rot in a PokéBall than go out?"
This gives me pause. Though I have seen no sky through his windows, nor anything natural in this place, perhaps going out would have a chance of respite from this darkness. Even if I am forced to wear these horrible clothes so that the darkness comes with me, at least I may see something comforting.
I sigh as I stand, keeping my eyes downcast, and hold out my hand. He hands me the clothing with a slight smile. I don the garments with deliberation and confusion. It takes me much longer than it would someone used to clothing.
"Wonderful," he says, seeming satisfied. He takes out my PokéBall and I am recalled.
---
I materialize again in another place with similarly inspired decor. This is not a home; it seems to be a social gathering area. There are many humans here, and my trainer is acts completely different than before. He is no longer stern, displeased, or abrupt- he chats with everyone, smiling, laughing, flirting with men and women alike. He offers me drinks and snacks and acts as though we are good friends. I am baffled by this person. Why is he being kind now, in this place? I have not accepted anything he has offered me beyond water; I do not recognize most of it.
Again, a plate is offered to me. I begin to decline, but I stop when I smell the heavenly scent of fresh berries. I want them, oh, after so long without I desperately crave this real food. I reach for one, but hesitate, glancing toward my trainer for- permission? I chastise myself for deferring to him, but wait for his cue despite myself.
He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, amused. "Is something wrong? If you want them, take it."
I slowly finish the motion of taking a berry, maintaining eye contact. I bite into it and the taste floors me. I haven't had this in far too long; my body is overjoyed and momentarily out of my control. I involuntarily close my eyes, my mouth twitching into a smile. My trainer is watching, emanating mild amusement. "You like that?"
I stop mid-chew, wide-eyed. I hadn't meant to show such emotions, not to him. But actions may not be taken back easily. I nod slowly and focus on the food rather than the human, taking slow and deliberate bites. I do not wish to interact with him more than necessary. I do not want him to know how I think or feel. I am under the impression that what he knows, he will use against me.
He tilts his head thoughtfully. "I'm going to start using you in battles," he purrs. No one else is standing close enough to hear them over the buzz of the club. "I'm going to take half the money you earn for me and put it in a little jar, just for you. If you lose me money, it will be subtracted from the jar. You can go into debt." He smiles. "You may buy what you like with the money, within reason. Including snacks."
I don't really understand what he is talking about, but I extrapolate that "money" can be exchanged for goods. That is all I need to understand. If that is how I can get real food, it will do. I nod. This is acceptable to me.
"Wonderful," he purrs, clapping his hands together as if sealing the deal. "You'll start training tomorrow, then."