Even if there was anxiety and clear shock on the Ampharos and the Lucario’s faces, they decided to follow Evan’s lead, into the back and up a set of stairs that was cunningly hidden away in the back.

Well, Lars was trailing behind them—he let the two Pokémon go ahead of him because he was pretty sure the two were still in pretty much a state of disbelief.

That, and the feeling of getting disintegrated didn’t seem to go away. It was driving him mad, honestly. Why could he still taste the ashes in his mouth? Was it really that bad, for him to keep reliving the experience over and over again in his tired, exhausted mind?

He almost didn’t register where he was going, at least not until a sharp noise coming from the Lucario snapped his wandering thoughts back into the present. The Ampharos had turned right and was now waddling somewhere near the door, trying to settle down in a corner. No way was she going back inside her Pokéball for the night. It was too scary to fathom.

Plus she needed to be around Alpha for reassurance on the most part.

“You… you sure I don’t have to pay you?” he asked the other. Quiet, subdued.

Just… plain terrified out of his mind.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

"Very." Evan insisted. It didn't seem right to charge him or make him go back home this late. Especially knowing he had seen the same thing he did. If Evan was off kilter- and Evan was rarely off kilter -he imagined the other was just as well. Maybe more so, Evan wasn't entirely sure of his over all temperament in that aspect. For all their talking over drinks or while Evan was behind the bar that could only tell him so much about the person. It was enough though, for him to be sure he was deserving of a room even if it wasn't the greatest one. He couldn't give him that one though. the master room for the floor was being worked on.

His hands spread over the comforter one too many times, because he's trying to stall a little bit. Perhaps because he's not sure what exactly to do in this situation. He can only hope he's making the right choices.

"I'm not making you go back home at this time of night." Evan looks up at him, noticing his reflection in one of the mirrors on the wall and his eyes go wide for a split second before returning to the blanket. "That's not happening and it wouldn't be right to charge you for the room when-" he has to think of the right words. "Whatever that was it rattled us both and I don't get rattled easy. Even if its for different reasons that whole thing wasn't the kind of thing you should have even been coming out here to begin with after."

Evan turns and looks him dead on, which makes it more apparent why he looked away before. He'd been in bed, he never put his contacts back in because he didn't expect someone to come barging into his establishment this late. Bright blue eyes stare him down tonight and they're almost more intimidating than the contacts he usually wears. The contacts mask his emotions as much as the color, a blue so bright its almost unreal but the emotion in them is like steel. Its not out of anger, it's out of concern and the mixture is as terrifying as his usual image comes across as. "I'm not charging you and I swear if you try and leave money behind for it anyway I'll put it in the next drink I mix for you and you won't get another until you put the bills in your pocket." It's meant more as a joke but the evenness of his voice makes it sounds more like he means it than he intends.

The exaggeration is a hopeful distraction from the reality they have just behind them, the after effects right in front of them. he still hasn't answered his question about the 'onion' god and for his own reasons he's not sure he wants to. The whole thing leaves him uneasy and he's still yet to decide how he feels about Lars being there right now. All he knows is he can't turn him away even while he feels too upset to have people around him.

Evan pulls away again, because his own eyes make him self conscious and suddenly being aware of the fact Lars can see them makes him more so.

Laurence Anderson

He already had half a mind to fish out his wallet and pay him because it didn’t feel right, it was so surreal, the existential dread that hung in the air like a poison…

He catches sight of Evan staring at him, and it’s at this moment he realizes something—he’s so used to seeing the other with red eyes, the fact that he was staring back at a pair of brilliant blue made him mentally backpedal a few paces.

“Thank hell I didn’t bring the motorbike, then,” he said with a bit of a grin, looking down to one side near the door where he noticed his Ampharos had taken up space on the floor, curled up and staring at the brilliant red orb on her tail. Much as he wanted to address his two Pokémon, he would deign not to, at least for now.

“You… you know,” he finally continues after an almost potentially awkward few seconds of silence, “…you should show your real eye color more,” he goes on, finally finding purchase on the slippery slope in front of him. Both of them awoken by a strange, communal(?) nightmare, with shared experiences and all that.

Lars noticed that the Lucario had taken the spot near the bed, sitting himself down cross-legged and looking between the two.

“Guess they’re not going back in their Pokéballs tonight. Can’t blame them, though…”

And then, the urge hits. He feels his stomach rumbling.

“…would you care to order out for something? Pizza?” he suggested, hopeful.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

"I would lock your keys in the safe if you had." it's almost matter of fact but surprisingly gentle, because he really would have. And keeping them from him would have been no small feat. Evan's slight of hand is impressive to say the least and while he plays up the idea of being a lumbering goof it is only because it's far more easy to be written off. At least most the time.

Evan glances back at him when he comments on his eyes, it's an odd, sickeningly sweet feeling that rises in his gut. His eyes have never been anything but trouble, from the day he was born to his life as adult. How many times had he heard that? How many comments had been made about how they were like gems set in his skull? How many had told him they were one of the prettiest sets of eyes they had even seen?

It was obvious in how he looks away to keep from narrowing his eyes at lars in particular that he does not think fondly of his eyes. They are expressive and bright, impossible to miss. Impossible to ignore. He feels too strongly and he's scared people with them more than the contacts. The contacts where just odd. These showed the harshness he tried so hard to hide and the glimmer of it is momentary as the thought roll through his mind before he answers him. "I will not."

"Thank you for the sentiment, though." he adds almost too fast. He's not sure if it's because he wants to believe lars doesn't mean it that way or because he actually does believe it, but it doesn't change the fact Lars has given him no reason to think it anything but genuine compliment. He has no way of knowing how much he hates his eyes.

And this is why he doesn't let people in. He inwardly scolds himself for how harsh that might have seen. "I'm sorry, I just really don't like my eyes." he hopes lars will let him leave it at that.

He tries not to think about it, righting the pillows one more time even though they don't really need to be, looking over the night stand to be sure there's not anything else he needs to take care of- anything to not think about his eyes.

"I think there's a 24 hour place here, they're the only one so they get away with it." he suggests, because it's the only one he thinks they've got a chance with and to be honest, he's really not interested in cooking something right now. He reaches behind him, the strap against his back the same one as in the nightmare. The small pocket keeps on his important things on him while he sleeps just in case. He pulls out his phone, unlocks it and hands it to him.

"It's in the contacts as the 24 hour food place, menu's in the favorites on the browser. I keep it easy for guests and some of the regulars." because he doesn't really eat that kind of stuff.

Laurence Anderson

Lars wonders if Evan’s dismissing the topic too fast, but it’s something he’ll hang onto—at least, for now, he knows that it’s a rather touchy subject. He recognizes the signs of hesitance, of prickliness, and decides to keep the information for another time.

He can only wonder why Evan isn’t facing him, doing who knows what with the bed he was temporarily going to be occupying for the meantime. It’s not until the other turns around and faces him with a phone in his hand does he realize what he’s offering.

“You’re not a fan of pizza?” he asked the other, taking out his own phone and punching in the numbers for the pizza place, using Evan’s phone as a reference on what he wanted to order. After waiting for the line to ring, he begins speaking into the phone, pondering what they could share for the evening.

“Huh. They actually have salads on the menu? How about that? Would you want one?”

He didn’t want to eat alone, of course. He just… wanted to talk a little more about the onion thing with wide-set eyes that he saw.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

He drops the subject, at least for now and Evan lets go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding onto so tight. His chest deflates and he's silently grateful because he is in no way ready to approach that subject with anyone. It's a heavy enough topic he won't even write about it let alone talk about it out loud.

Evan focuses back on the phone in his hands, trying not to look lars in the face again. He's uneasy about the idea of him looking at his eyes too much. He doesn't want to be but it eats at his mind like a ravenous pokemon, chipping away at his nerves. It's not because he expects anything in particular from him, it's just an innate avoidance.

"Hm?" he catches the words but is surprised Lars read between the lines and caught that he doesn't eat pizza. Most people assume by default that he does because most people do. Greasy food doesn't agree with him though. "No it's fine, I'm not really hungry." or rather there's a rising in his gut that he knows too well. The nausea doesn't go well with food he knows he won't really eat anyway.

He gets the feeling lars is trying though, perhaps because humans are highly social creatures, seeking comfort when things like this happen. There's a certain compulsion to seek out closeness and while Evan has always resisted it he feels bad for denying Lars outright. Besides, he shouldn't be alone right now either. Nibbling on pizza and talking is far better than spiraling over his own thoughts on what happened.

"I'll nibble on whatever you get, if that helps." when his eyes look up at him they're searching lars' face for a hint of acceptance. If he'll take that Evan will put up with his stomach being a little unhappy later and stick around. But his eyes tell tales that aren't normally seen, an odd mix of worry and uncertainty, but concern overrules those feelings. Focusing on lars means he doesn't have to focus on himself.

Laurence Anderson

“Hope you don’t mind, then,” he began, looking over the menu and making up his mind on what to order.

There was even a ‘buy one get one free’ offer on some of the pizzas so he decided to pick one of those up, along with some pasta and a salad. Look, Lars was hungry, even after waking up from that nightmare—he didn’t realize how he hadn’t eaten during the long and tiring day before he’d passed out fully-dressed on the bed.

Damn it.

Once he’d hung up his phone, his gaze wandered over to where Evan is.

“You have anything… non-alcoholic to drink? I forgot to get that, my bad. I figured… if you have some milk or orange juice that would be fine,” he asked, hoping the other did have a fridge stocked with normal drinks. He knew that it would take at the most half an hour for the food to arrive, so there was that.

In the meantime, though…

“Do you… do you know anything about the onion? I mean—this?”

He still has the paper from earlier. Holding it up, he showed it to Evan. While not completely accurate, he had managed to draw a reasonable facsimile of what he remembered seeing outside the elevator. Even then, it was still rather scary, the way the eyes looked too large against the small body, and how its head tapered off into spiked tufts.

“If you know what it is… honestly, I would like to find out more. And I’m not sure who had it, but when it appeared, it was like—that was when shit hit the fan, basically…” he remembered, shuddering a little.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

Evan doesn't really answer him because he doesn't, it's quite rare for Evan to eat when bothered like this. The idea of a full stomach was nauseating and the idea of one filled with greasy pizza was worse. Evan can't help but chuckle softly though, listening to him and its outright when he asks if they have anything non-alcoholic.

"Of course hun, the bar may be the main attraction but we're still an old school tavern too." he needed that little bit of laughter, even though it was unfitting given their situation. "Not to mention I live here and have no plans of dying to liver failure before I reach 40."

It subsides at the inquiry about the onion and at first Evan does not answer. Not really. He just stairs at the picture but not really at it, like he's watching a shadow in the distance and in a way he is. Words dance across his thoughts and he buys himself a little time.

"Drinks first, that after. I'll be back in a moment." He's out in the hallway before Lars can protest, giving him time to think about how to address this.



A few minutes later Evan returns with juice for lars and a glass of water for himself, ever the healthy consumer. Evan talks as he enters the room again, glass outstretched for lars to take at his leisure. "To start, its name is Celibi not onion and it would probably take some sort of offense to being called that so don't let it hear you say it. It's one of many legendary pokemon that have a handful of worshipers if you know where to find them."

Normally a well composed individual, a nervous fidgit like running his hand through his hair is unusual. He does it tonight anyway, pulling the hair back away from his face, bright blue eyes watching lars for a moment and deciding where to go next based on him more than himself. Because he doesn't know where to start this conversation at all.

Laurence Anderson
>>ngl i wanna see lars call it an onion to its face one day

He was keeping an eye on his phone, the better to keep track of when the all-night delivery place would actually come by and drop off the…rather substantial order he had checked out. Look, hunger was normal, and for him, the long day that had happened prior to that nasty little ‘communal scenario’ was more than enough to make him really feel hungry.

He almost had the thought of calling out after Evan not to leave him there, alone, but the way that his Ampharos had settled down at the foot of the bed made him stop and reconsider. The Lucario had taken up a sort of ‘guard position’ by the window in the meantime, his steely gaze never leaving the door.

Sometimes, Alpha’s stare would flicker to where Lars was sitting down cross-legged on the bed, fumbling around with something in his hand, before it returned to the sounds of an opening door.

The creaking made him look up as well, and he gratefully received the glass of orange juice before sipping at it slowly. Much as he wanted to drain the contents of the entire glass in one go, he figured that it wouldn’t be wise to do such, especially in present company.

Maybe he should’ve asked for the entire carton.

Anyway…

To be fair, Lars is only familiar with the stories of the Weather Trio, having been Hoenn born and raised his entire life. Unlike Evan, who he was absolutely sure came from another place altogether, the information about Legendary Pokémon coming from other places was new to him.

“What do you mean, ‘if you know where to find them’?” he wanted to clarify. The legends of the Weather Trio were rife in his hometown, that much was certain. Rumor had it that the blue one slept underneath the waves of the deep lake that made up more than half of Sootopolis’s land area, but again those were just that: rumors.

[attr="class","evantalk"]

He sets down his water. "Exactly what I said." Evan states as he sits on the edge of the bed near to Lars. He leans forward, elbows settling on his knees and fingers lacing together in front of him to form a cradle for his chin. He takes a moment to think, about how to put it. The worshipers of the gods have almost always existed, a matter of when and where and how has always been changing in a way.

"The gods have always been there in some capacity, their worshipers the same. At least for many of them." there were too many to say they were all worshiped, surely there were a few he couldn't find a people for. And he had seen many over the course of his life.

Evan breaths deep, this will be a long conversation he can feel it. "There's some here in Hoenn, I've met one in particular before. The god's an old one Lars. Many have probably even heard stories about it without even knowing they have. I know more than many only because I travel and talk enough for it."

He's not even really sure what else he's supposed to say.

Laurence Anderson

“If you were born and raised here, the stories surrounding the Weather Trio—that’s what we call them—are pretty prevalent here. How they both… how they both fought over the creation of this place. One wanted more water than land, the other wanted more land than water. In the end, the region ended up being as diverse as it is, supposedly, thanks to the both of them… ‘coming to an agreement’, if you may?”

While he knew them by name, he figured it was best not to drop those names—at least, not yet anyway.

When Evan mentioned that he had met one, Lars did a double take.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘met’? As in—you’ve actually seen them? Which one?” he asked—he was pretty certain it wasn’t the Celebi. But if it was…

Well, there were other things that were on his mind, too. However, he wanted to be sure about them first.

“And then there’s a variant of the legend I know, that’s very prevalent in the city of my birth—that the third member of the Weather Trio, as they’re called, came down from the sky and basically told the other two to… get this, ‘calm their proverbial tits’ so to speak,” he continued, a bit of a smirk on his face as he did so.

“While not literally ‘calm their tits’, it was something like the third one was able to calm the other two down—and after that, they all vanished to whoever the hell knows where they are now,” he ended.

Shit, maybe he should pay more attention to the city’s mythos now…

[attr="class","evantalk"]

Evan listens to his breakdown of the old legends of Hoenn, ones that is quite familiar with himself. "Yes I know of them better than you might think despite not being from here." not that most know of his interest in such things, or what he truly is in society outside of the barkeep and a stray wandering from place to place. He does not blame Lars for thinking he might not know of them.

"It's quite the story of origin really, fascinating when told in full. I quite adore it. One of the many reasons I felt comfortable settling in Hoenn and taking over the Stray." Evan takes a deep breath, letting the conversation settle for a moment before he continues.

Evan sits for a moment, thinking as he stares at fingers that lace themselves together on instinct. Thinking on the story in question, on all the varieties of the telling of it he has heard over the years. Of the ones he had written himself.

Why do you bring it up?' he finally asks, curious.

Laurence Anderson

“I asked because… do you think there’s like… more of them out there?” he proposed, wondering if such a silly thing was even true.

“What if there’s much more than meets the eye when it comes to these… stories. I mean, you already told me about Celebi, but the thing is. Celebi—correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s not from here, am I right? The prominent legendaries, call them as you may—are the ones I told you about, the ones who literally made a mess supposedly in the city of my birth.”

This made him stop and wonder about things—a lot of things.

“I may be overlooking into this, but… don’t you think it’s strange? That they’re all turning up here…”

This then brings him back to another thing—another memory that he had very nearly forgotten, from way before he had even met Evan.