Kos reminded Howard a lot of Penrose. He kept that to himself. Not because of the connection to one of Rocket's Head Scientists, but because Lulu Flint would likely break his legs if she knew he was comparing Penrose to any other Poipole.

Howard valued his legs, so he kept his mouth shut on the matter.

"Naturally. I'd rather not lose my tenure with Dr. Graves. He has a remarkable tendency to look disappointed in you when you mess up, and that's somehow worse than getting yelled at." The archaeologist shuddered as his Armaldo meandered through the foliage, oddly at home in this minute portion of ancient jungle.

No, not oddly. Naturally.

"You good, Freya?" Her murmurs are too quiet, but sound travels in this primeval sea of green. He pauses, letting his thoughts settle before speaking again. "What caused this?"

He looked around, ponderous.

"This doesn't look like something from Ultra Space. It's not similar to anything from the crater, at least."

---

freya morningstar

"Ah." Comprehension dawns. "Dr. Graves is better with this sort of thing, but I'm pretty good with topsoil and whatnot."

He's better than good, truth be told. Turning the Ultra Desert into a lush paradise inch by agonizing inch was something that few in this world could truly accomplish, but the Rocket Admin attributed it to a half-dozen electives at Rustboro University (go Rockruffs), a morally dubious engineer named oscar clayton , and a few hours of watching nature documentaries.

Falling to his knees, a clump of dirt falls through the archaeologist's hands. He's reminded of time spent in Rustboro.

"Soil's pretty acidic. You're not going to be able to grow much in this besides what's already here. Mt. Chimney's topsoil is actually pretty good for farming, thanks to the soot." He looked up towards the mountain, even as he produces gloves from which to touch the plants. Dynergy rots the flesh, so the admin avoids letting it rot the flora as well. "Could be due to the eruption a couple months back."

The thought makes the admin's stomach churn.

"Back when Kyle died."

---

freya morningstar

"It's old."

Howard Slayte was a remarkably poetic man. His mastery of wordplay and the sounds that fell from his gilded tongue would be spoken of until mountains crumbled and the sun went out.

"It shouldn't be. It's anomalous. This type of terrain shouldn't even be here. It's like it's overwritten the actual terrain from Hoenn." As he crumpled the dirt between his fingers, small pieces of shell fell to the ground. Fossils. His eye sparkled for a moment. "I heard a story that there was a part of Mt. Chimney that had been scraped away, as if it had been cut out. Nothing had replaced it."

It was old, but Mt. Chimney was a geologist's delight. People spoke of enigmas and strange formations constantly, and Howard was one for gossip. Regidrago and much of the land in Mt. Chimney had been sent to Land Hoenn, and it had left nothing more than an odd formation behind.

"If land can be spirited away from our world, why can't land be spirited to our world?"

He let the question float in the heir for several moments.

"Rayquaza?" He cocked his head in confusion, before paling. "Uh oh."

He was so fucked.

"I didn't study my Draconid rituals for addressing Rayquaza!" Howard groaned, returning to his knees to cradle his head. "I'm gonna disrespect Rayquaza and it's gonna eat me and-"

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freya morningstar