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[attr="class","bisc"]The shout received united looks of disapproval. Neither Lydia nor her lupine companion appreciated rude language. It made one look like a drunkard at a bar. The woman merely leaned forward onto the Lycanroc as she moved to tug down her hood. The bitter wind whipped her hair into a frenzy, scattering pins across the ice.

Judging by his reaction, this young man was in good health. With all of his layers, he’d certainly come prepared. Or, at least, as prepared as one could be in this place of unimaginable cold. At his declaration of terror, the woman nodded. “I apologize. That was not our intent.” If it had been, she would not have approached him head-on, nor announced her presence Allowing the apology to sink in, Lydia quickly pivoted to what truly bothered her about this situation. “You should not take God’s name in vain.”

Before she could expound on the dangers of angering the all-powerful Arceus, the dog beneath her began to growl. Its piercing blue eyes turned to a point on the horizon as its lips lifted above its stunningly white fangs. “Hm.” Lydia slid off of Minerva’s back with a frown. One gloved hand dropped to the gun at her side as Lydia prepared for the worst. What she expected was some denizen of ice—a rampaging Mamoswine or Avalugg. A Scizor, however, was not in her plans.

Watching him catch the creature, Lydia frowned. “It is.” She shook her head, seeing this as one impact of messing with the very deities that built this land. Though the Scizor could not show its appreciation, this young man had saved his life. Perhaps her initial impression had been faulty. “Thank you for handling it.”

The Lycanroc at her side pivoted, rushing toward a nearby rock. She snarled, jumping on the snow beneath it. With a piggy snort, a little Swinub ran out of the rocks. The wolf looked ready to chase it. Punishment for spying on her training. “Leave it, Minerva.” Lydia smiled. Though she’d never admit it, she found little babies and animals adorable.

“What brings you out here?” Her voice became less clear as she reattached her hood.

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[attr="class","bisc"]The man’s melodrama scrunched up her nose—the gesture decisively rabbit-like. Blue eyes narrowed slightly. What point was there in this poorly disguised hostility? Unsheathe the blade or do not draw it. This in-between, passive-aggressive nonsense had always ruffled the albatross’s feathers. Perhaps because it reminded her so much of Mikhail.

“I did not jump out at you. We walked through a snow drift.” They had been walking, just as the scientist had. Beside her, Minerva shook herself free of snow. Thick fur absorbing all but the deepest seated cold. She did not seem to notice Kepler’s displeasure—a nonchalance Lydia did not share. “My mistake was announcing my presence.” If fools wished to walk through snowstorms, she would leave them to it.

What a blasphemous little shithead. Lydia thought to herself as the young man laughed. Her lip lifted slightly, s if accosted y something foul. “It's not a joke.”

The question was met with a sigh. She let her eyes drift across the landscape. With little need to impress Kepler, she let a more rugged beast flow through her. A hint of the monster she’d been in war. “I have always been called frigid.” The profanity feels almost strange—sinfull. “I thought I’d try it.” It was better than being a whiny little troll.

The smirk disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “I am working as well.” A young woman claimed to have left something important out here as she fled the gigawinter. A bag containing all of her Pokemon. These were sentenced to a frosty existence without intervention—something Lydia felt she could be provided.

She and the hound follow after him, if only because the woman’s last known location was known to be in this direction. Though she sees the Durant, she does not intervene, hoping the stumble will remind him why he’d been surprised in the first place. When he catches it, she cannot help but sigh. “I cannot imagine how these Pokemon felt.” Just how many more were trapped in this maelstrom? “From oasis to wasteland in a moment.”

And this man laughed at the gods.

In the distance, Lydia watches as a Mr. Rime tip-toes his way across the landscape. “At least some of them enjoy it."

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[attr="class","bisc"]His complaints drew a tight-lipped expression from the veteran. A blonde brow rose slightly, blue eyes sweeping across the frozen landscape. Few things irritated her quicker than petulant whining. Especially when it came accompanied by stupid assumptions. This man was like someone who ordered ice cream and proceeded to complain about it being cold.

“I am not sure what you expected.” The words are equal parts confused and disrespectful. Her breath escaped in frosty puffs, ruffling the stray threads of her dense scarf. “It is not an Alolan resort.” That was not to say that she was not cold. The porcelain doll cheeks were an uncomfortable red. Her bright lashes, meanwhile, were dotted with flecks of ice. But she tried her best not to show it. Such things were not the Magnusson way.

That mindset is likely what led to her creation, an irony Lydia did not recognize. She turns her head to the side, keeping an eye out for any threats. “If it will make you feel better, you can pretend I said 'boo'.” Even if his beliefs were incorrect, it made little difference to her. It was not as if she’d want to interact with this petulant little person in the future.

“No, it is not.” Lydia was not foreign to a mockery of her beliefs. Though she once fought for it like a rabid dog, she mostly restrained herself. Acting like a savage would not elevate her in the eyes of her lord and savior. But that last comment drew up a blonde brow. “These people?” The veteran scoffed as she turned away. “I could say the same.” This man reminded her of her brother. That was not a good thing.

His declaration received a stupefied blink in return. It was not an incorrect statement, but it did not get to the heart of her inquiry. Had they felt a loss of hope as they drudged through this wasteland? Did the love of a missing pup force them onward? Those things could not be captured by a thing such as cold.

Then, she heard it, a whimpering on the howling winds. Her lips pursed together as she wandered away from Kepler and his newly acquired fossil. She despised the Galarian jigsaws—they were true aberrations to her lord. As she walked, she missed a spot of red in the snow. Suddenly, she found herself face down in a heap of fur.

As she lifted herself up, she found herself staring into the empty eyes of a Beartic. It seemed to move as she scrambled back. A hand dropped to her gun. A shot went off, burying itself in the corpse's shoulder. “!?” Then, she saw it was not the deceased animal returning to life, but a cub cowering behind its head.

It moaned in terror, trying to hide behind the popsicle of its mother's corpse.

With a sad, forlorn smile, she crawled to push a ball against its head, ignoring the dampness of its tears. Only then did she turn to examine the Beartic properly. It’d been decimated. “What could have done this?”

NOTES
Catching Cubchoo

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TThe blonde stared at him through narrowed eyes. Her breath escaped in an irritable little huff. Apparently, this gremlin’s claws were perfectly shaped to get beneath her icy armor. “I have not.” The explanation of the weather drew a raised brow.”I…see.” Lydia was not certain if he was playing the part of an excitable child with a thesaurus or moonlit as a meteorologist. “It really is quite strange.” Though by no means tropical, her homeland had never been as cold as this.[break][break]

Temperatures like this belonged to the far outskirts of the earth. An inaccessible cap on the bottom or top of the Earth. A testing ground for explorers. It certainly did not seem fitting a stone’s throw away from civilization.[break][break]

A snowflake fell on her lashes. “Of course you are. It just seems wasteful.” The whining would not add more down to his coat. It would not improve the lining of his boots. She dropped her head back to focus on the grey-clouded sky above them. “As you were able to rattle off a lecture, I am guessing you were aware of the place’s condition.” That made this punishment a self-afflicted one.[break][break]

When she stood—the Cubchoo safely stowed away—Lydia’s coat was dotted with red stains, The capture of the Frosmoth is captured out of the corner of one eye. The wolf wrinkles its snout, curious about this hoarding behavior.[break][break]
The intestines were splayed across the ground in some macabre, abstract way. She wondered if there was some message in this god’s fiat. “It did not even eat the corpse.” Something about that made the orphan much more tragic. Drops of blood splattered the ground in the distance, fading to pink before vanishing from sight entirely.[break][break]

This god may be worthy of respect, but Lydia was not certain it deserved worship. For, in the back of her mind, she wondered if it was a demon instead. “It is beautiful, however.” She reached up a hand to wipe away an errant snowflake.[break][break]

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NOTES[break][break]Skipping