The wrestling match goes about as well as Bryony figures it would and by now, she's relieved to be out of a roar filled arena with dozens of eyes watching. She follows after Morgan, lost in thought as she plans out the rest of the day. They'll have to get dinner soon, then there's whatever else Morgan wants to do, before they eventually head back for the night. Always prepared, Bryony's already rented two hotel rooms for them.

"There was this nice - "

Morgan's hand envelops her own and before she can even finish her question, he's pulling her along while she stumbles after. Very quickly, she recognizes where they're headed and her already pale face begins to further whiten. The only color left is a flush of red that goes to her chest.

Morgan is out of breath and Bryony is near wheezing. She clasps a hand over her heart and holds up the other to signal him to give her a moment. When she's finally able to breathe without it feeling like she's dying, Bryony looks to the too familiar sight.

"Noooo?" she says, recalling the last time she'd been here with kyle lopez. "There was an - an actual ghost here last time."

She coughs.

"Kyle and I... sort of... burned one of the rooms down," Bryony adds in a mumble.

Morgan Drake

In an ideal world, Bryony would stand there like an unmovable object. She would be a tree, roots buried beneath the earth, unyielding even to the mightiest storm. But in reality, she is little more than a pebble, a plastic bag, or in more poetic terms, a tiny bird.

So she's pushed forward with no resistance except a briefly scornful look.

"No. No, not this one."

Her shoulders slump in defeat and she nudges an elbow into Morgan's ribs to get him away. Putting on her brave face, Bryony steps forward of her own accord. For a brief moment, she hopes there is a ghost. A big, scary ghost that will kill them both so she can say I told you so.

Bryony makes her way to a random door and rattles the knob. She's made no attempt to push it open, but the door creaks away from its frame and presents the darkened content of its living room. She goes still again.

Morgan Drake

Bryony steps to the side to let Morgan go first, one hand reaching out to instinctively curl against the hem of his sleeve, pinning it between fingers. She follows after.

"Did I really hurt you?" she asks, glancing at the back of Morgan's head. "I'm sorry. I didn't um - I didn't mean to."

The room is empty; there's a dusting of cobwebs clinging to the corners of walls and a fake potted plant. The room smells stale, as if it hasn't been touched in years, abandoned and forgotten with the constant come and go of people. She thinks of the Marowak, the sense of anger it had given off.

She tightens her grip on Morgan's sleeve, bunching more fabric into her hand in an effort to hide the tremble.

Morgan Drake

The temperature drops in a single heartbeat. Bryony feels her skin prickle with the sudden cold and she looks at Morgan, lips pressed thin together. A piece of hail strikes her shoulder but all Bryony can bring herself to do is stare in accusation at the other.

The appearance of the ghost only serves to make Bryony freeze in place. Her blood goes cold because this one - this one looks far worse than the marowak ever had. As the creature rushes towards them, Bryony only moves when Morgan ducks down, hand on his sleeve pulling her with. She sucks a breath in.

Her eyes snap to Morgan. From her waist, Bryony grabs a pokeball, unable to check which as more hail pelts her. Petunia is called forth and for a moment, the granbull looks fierce, ready to fight. Then the dog like pokemon turns and dives down, scrambling to hide between Morgan's legs.

"No! No, you're suppose to - no!"



Morgan Drake

Bryony had already considered the possibility of dying here, but Morgan suggesting they would get out alive makes it suddenly more real. Her heart freezes in her chest, locked in by the forming blizzard.

Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point of consuming what remains of her pale irises. "Okay," she breathes, voice swallowed by the ghost's laughter.

The cold bites into her fingertips, leaving them numb. It makes unhooking another pokeball more difficult but Bryony manages. She calls out her Drampa; the elderly dragon needs no command. The second he is out, his cloud nine takes affect, stopping the hell. Next, he puts up a Safeguard. The cold eases around her and Morgan.

His attention turns to the ghost type and the dragon glares, freezing its foe in place. The last thing it does is turn to the combusken and put out helping hand.



Morgan Drake

The storm ends but the cold lingers, clinging to her skin like a ghost's touch. Bryony stares at the space where the creature had once been, replaced now by the combusken. Her lip folds under then she turns to look at Morgan.

"Can we leave?" she asks, half pleading.

She does not move from her current position, hand still curled into Morgan's sleeve. Her eyes fall back to where the ghost had been, waiting for it to return.

Morgan Drake