High winds and cloudy skies heralded the approach of rain over Mt. Pyre. Spring was turning to summer—the cold and wet mornings steadily giving way to warm afternoons which bit further at the sunset's heels with each passing day. Carter welcomed the change, especially after spending most of spring doing his groundskeeping duties in a pair of mud-boots. Working around the mountain was always easier with more daylight, and the heavy rains were moving towards a habit of settling in right at dusk. It was the perfect excuse to coop up in his ranger's cabin at the base of the mountain and pursue passions that didn't include polishing headstones or trimming tall grass.
But the dusk and the rain were still a few hours away, meaning there was plenty of mountain left to cover. Scarcely did Mt. Pyre require him to visit every corner of it in one day, but there were always new tasks which bid Carter to hike up and down across its various levels. It had made him lean and fleet-footed in the way stewards of nature are demanded to be, but his dual role as the worker of a great cemetery had also chiseled a deep empathy into his rough hazel eyes.
Within the mountain caves were the Pokémon mausoleums, their rows of grave markers always in need of a watchful gaze and tending hands. Trainers past and present visited Mt. Pyre with all manner of intentions: to sightsee, to do battle, but most of all to mourn. They left flowers, candles, even snacks and effigies at the graves of their former companions, which required someone to come along and respectfully return everything to order.
The exterior of Mt. Pyre—boasting a gorgeous view of Hoenn's Inner Lily Cove—came with its own set of unique demands. Staircases, foothpaths, grass patches, and the great headstones of the outdoors all required upkeep as well. That was where Carter found himself: on his hands and knees, touching up the silver lettering on an obelisk dedicated to 'Devochka', someone's beloved Venomoth.
The obelisk's inscriptions had succumbed to the usual mixture of dirt and sun exposure. Through the careful use of a damp abrasive pad, Carter scrubbed along the lines of each letter, until there was once again regal silver shining against dark granite. He looked upon his work and gave it a satisfied nod.
"Now let's see," he muttered to himself as he reached into his rucksack and exchanged the abrasive pad for his pocketbook. "What do we have left before the day's washed out?"
The yellow page and black ink on it laid out a couple of headstone clearings on his current level of the mountain, followed by laying fresh gravel on the footpaths down the second level, and two more obelisk check-ups on the first level. Carter smiled and crossed out the final two items. The rains would do it for him.
Upon entering the third level's mausoleum, a great wave of chilly air washed over Carter, raising goosebumps all across his skin. In wintertime the caves had a gentle warmth to them in comparison to the outdoors, but the summer months ushered in an almost paranormal chill to Mt. Pyre's inner levels. Soft crackling from the ancient wrought-iron chandeliers echoed off the stone walls—an almost soothing ambiance before it was overridden by the sounds of a Pokémon battle somewhere in the back. Carter got on his tiptoes to try and peer over some of the tombstones and figure out where it was happening.
"Oh hey Ranger Carter!"
The sudden greeting almost sent him stumbling. "Jeez! Hey, Darnell. You snuck up on me there."
"Whoops!" Darnell chuckled, rustling the cups and containers strapped to his signature yellow travel pack. "Didn't mean to spook you, friend. This place is spooky enough as it is! How are you doing today?"
"Quite alright, I must say. Might even wrap the day up early here. It's looking like some serious rain is going to blow in from the bay, so if you want to make it home without getting soaked, you might want to get a head start."
Darnell wore a look of casual surprise. "Woah, man! Thanks for the heads up. I'll let Tasha know as soon as I can, but she's a little tied up right now."
A rumbling crash rang out from the opposite end of the room.
"I wish the Hex Maniacs were a little less bombastic with their trainer battles," he lamented, letting out a pronounced sigh. "They've never damaged the graves or anything, but it always makes me nervous."
"Well, if she knocks anything over, I'll leave a report slip in your cabin's mailbox."
"Thanks, I'll keep an eye out for it. Safe travels down the mountain this evening."
"You as well!"
From there the two parted ways, Darnell disappearing to go find the Hex Maniac Tasha, while Carter went on to his cleaning duties. From there it was all routine: gathering up wilting flowers, chatting to the trainers of the second level, and then spreading gravel on the exterior footpaths. By the time he emerged outside again to start on shoring up the second level's main trail, the sky had grown thick with thunderclouds obscuring the coastline sunset. An early day it would be indeed, Carter thought humorously.
He worked diligently, spreading all the gravel he could along amidst his descent towards the entrance to Mt. Pyre's first-level mausoleum. It was the oldest of the mountain's repurposed caverns, its own light fixtures having long since rusted into a crude imitation of darkened bronze and sheltering headstones which bore dates far preceding any living human's birth. While the other mausoleums could be called 'spooky' or 'ethereal' given a stretch of the imagination, something about the first level's age made it downright haunting by comparison. Carter never liked doing his rounds down there, but it was a simple necessity he couldn't avoid.
He found himself alone, work boots plodding against ancient cobblestones to fill the silence—until something moved behind a row of graves to his left.
"Hello?" Carter half-shouted, hand already fumbling for the flashlight in his rucksack. The light of the chandeliers suddenly felt insufficient.
Silence, followed by quiet mumbling a short distance away.
"Hello?" he repeated. The moment his hand found the flashlight it was on and in front him, just in time to round the corner to the next row of headstones.
Sitting on the floor was a drooped figure rummaging through something in its grip, form indistinct until Carter brought his flashlight upon it. Crazed purple eyes shone in the cold, white light, the dark spirals within those indigo pupils meeting Carter's gaze as they winced.
"B-bright... ow," said a voice which bordered on inaudible.
"Oh." He chuckled with relief and turned off his flashlight. "Hiya, Valerie. Pardon the visual assault."
"Hi, Carter..." Valerie murmured, turning back to whatever she was doing.
Valerie was the oldest and perhaps strangest of the Hex Maniacs which had a permanent presence in Mt. Pyre, sent by their sisterhood to do a number of things Carter had no comprehension of. While Tasha and Aya fashioned themselves after trendier looks—apparently wearing witch hats and tasseled robes was occult chic at the time—Valerie dressed in a more practical manner. Her unkempt, waist-length, and sometimes levitating raven hair was ornamented by a simple purple hair band, while the rest of her figure was cloaked in a gothic dress that fell to her ankles and sported black frills along the bottom. Valerie was reserved and cryptic even for a Hex Maniac, but by some odd quirk of fate she had ended up as one of Carter's first real friends during his early days as a groundskeeper.
Closing the distance between them, Carter discovered she was holding a small hand purse and shuffling through its contents with a distraught look on her already quite morose face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, peering over her shoulder. "You look like you're missing something."
"Yeah, I am," Valerie answered in a sullen tone. "My Sableye's gone. I think her Poké Ball rolled away when I wasn't paying attention."
"I keep telling you to buy a dress with pockets," Carter teased.
"But I like this dress..."
"You sure do. Never seen you in anything else. Can't you get a tailor to put some pockets on that sucker?"
"Mm... maybe. I don't know."
"Questions for another time," Carter said. "Let's find your Sableye ball."
The search for one of Valerie's Poké Balls was a semi-regular ritual of Carter's. Though her hand purse easily held three Poké Balls, Valerie always chose to stash it in some random corner of the first level mausoleum while she went about her day's work and shuffled a half-team of Pokémon between her two hands instead. When this inevitably got tiresome, she'd place one or two Poké Balls on the floor near a headstone, where they inevitably became misplaced. Thus many days at Mt. Pyre ended with Carter combing the gravestones, flashlight in hand, looking for a glint of glossy red amongst the stonework.
"Found it!" he shouted, voice traveling across the room's vaulted ceilings.
Valerie's head popped up from behind a nearby aisle of tombs. Her semi-sunken eyes always made her smile a touch unsettling, but Carter had known her long enough to see the warmth in it. "You always beat me at this."
"Well, it's hardly a competition. And I have a flashlight," he scoffed, smiling as well. "It was almost caught between a gap in the cobblestones! I'm begging ya, at least un-shrink these things before you set them down."
"I know, I know," Valerie said. A rare hint of humor had crept into her quiet, monotone cadence. "But if I did that, finding the lost ones would be too easy."
Carter snickered. "Better watch out! One day I'll start charging you finder's fees."
"You'd never."
"I'm starting to think about it," he said, faking a pensive expression as he held out the miniaturized Poké Ball.
Valerie reached over and plucked it from his hand in no hurry at all, a deadpan look on her face. "You're too nice for that."
"Do you ever stop being so painfully perceptive?"
"No."
"Alright, let's get outta here. Any longer and the spirits themselves are gonna kick us out."
Departing through the great chiseled archway which separated the beginning of Mt. Pyre from its surrounding greenery, harsh winds immediately buffeted them both. Carter's ranger hat threatened to come flying off, while the lengthy fabric of Valerie's dress was rippling like a sail in a storm. The gentle orange glow of twilight had been subsumed by heavy clouds blanketing the sky, rendering it an eerie monochrome gray instead. At the horizon line, the ocean churned in step with the winds, her waves growing high and agitated in anticipation.
"I should have left a lot earlier..." Valerie mused, already frowning.
"Not to steal your job as head pessimist, but I don't think you're gonna make it home without getting soaked to the bone." As if to punctuate Carter's statement, the clouds overhead let loose a frightening roll of thunder. "Or maybe even in one piece."
"Wonderful."
Valerie started walking, and Carter hurried after her. "Hey! Where the hell are you going?"
"Home, I guess."
"Woah, woah, woah," he said, waving his hands back and forth in disbelief. "Didn't I just explain why walking home is a terrible idea? You could get struck by lightning! Maybe even catch a cold! And if that dress gets water damage, you will definitely cry."
"What else am I supposed to do?" Valerie said. She regarded Carder with a dull squint.
"Come crash at the ranger's cabin. This whole thing looks spooky, but I'm sure things will blow over before it gets real late."
"Hmmm..."
"I'll make butterscotch brownies."
A hint of a smile graced Valerie's lips. When Carter first arrived at Mt. Pyre, he'd forged his friendship with her through offerings of baked goods he produced in his spare time and brought along to work—revealing her own incurable sweet tooth. Since then Valerie had always been one of the first people to sample his latest pastries or desserts.
"Okay. Lead the way."
The ranger's cabin provided the absolute minimum a person would need to live within its walls, but Carter had found a way of breathing comfort into its originally stale atmosphere. From the outside it still appeared like a sorry thing: shingles sun-bleached and some missing, ancient wooden paneling weathered to the point that its original stain was long gone. Gentle, pattering rain had begun to fall, just enough that Carter and Valerie were in a hurry to get up to the porch and have him unlock the rickety door.
He flipped on the light switches in the entryway, bringing to life various incandescent bulbs around the cabin's open floor plan which bathed everything in soothing amber hues. Adjacent to the front door was the living room, comprised of a sofa covered in quilts, a loveseat, and a rocking chair padded with cushions all centered around an ancient stone fireplace.
"Oh, interesting," Valerie mumbled, her head drifting about to take everything in.
"What's interesting?" Carter asked as he slung off his jacket.
"All sorts of things," she replied absentmindedly.
Carter made an amused huff, moving to the coat rack in the entryway and hanging up his jacket. That was when the sound of torrential rain appeared over the cabin; a pattering roll on the roof and a heavy smattering against the windows.
"There it is. Looks like we got inside just in time." He turned around to see Valerie had already made her way over to the mantle and lit a few of the scented candles resting on it. "How did you—?"
"Let's get the brownies started. Those might take a while," she said, shuffling towards the kitchen and still looking around.
A smile crept onto Carter's face despite himself. For the first time in a long time, he looked at her and the world 'adorable' came to mind. The realization made him shake his head in surprise.
"Right, brownies." He hurried across the cabin to catch up with her, immediately kicking off his usual baking-prep routine.
Carter's kitchen was a bizarre anachronism: its floor a smooth expanse of stone and cabinets made from hand-carved wood, with some having been removed to make way for an electric range and oven manufactured decades ago. It was remarkably organized despite the ramshackle appearance, allowing Carter to swiftly pluck the needed ingredients and hardware from their perches.
He was halfway through applying a coat of grease to his baking dish when he realized Valerie hadn't lifted a finger—and in fact wasn't in the kitchen at all. A sideways glance found her resting at the dining table, pulling a deck of cards from her purse.
"Gonna play some solitaire while I work?" he said.
"They're tarot cards."
"Huh?"
"Tarot cards," Valerie repeated. "They're for divinations; readings on different aspects of your life. It's good practice to have one done at the turn of the seasons."
Carter made a face and resumed greasing his pan. "Seems a bit strange to be reading your own fortune. Isn't that a conflict of interest?"
That ghost of a smile crossed her lips again, strangely endearing. "Actually, I would like to do a reading for you, if you're interested."
"Oh! Well, I suppose it's rude to say no. By all means, read away."
"It's not that simple," Valerie giggled. The gentle sound made Carter do a double take, almost flustering him. "You have to choose something for me to do a reading on. Wisdom, success, horoscopes, love, careers—they're all different readings."
Carter found himself halfway through putting the brownies in the oven. "How about a love reading?" he said in a combination of sarcasm and impulse.
Unseen by him, a light blush rose to Valerie's cheeks. "Yeah... we can do that. Just let me shuffle the cards before we start."
"Sure, I need to set the timer and start cleaning things up anyway," he said. Carter rummaged through one of the drawers next to his oven, procuring a ceramic egg timer which he dialed in and set aside. "The secret to perfect brownies is under-baking them. Undershoot the time so they set as they cool, and these little butterscotch squares turn into slices of heaven."
"Mmm... Sounds wonderful."
Valerie shuffled cards while Carter did the dishes, culminating in him taking a seat at the table with her. By then the blush on her cheeks was long gone, replaced by a stern—perhaps even calculating—gaze.
"Before we start, there's setup," she said. "This is a three card reading. It goes fast, but is more accurate if you do this with me first." From nowhere she produced a tiny pencil-like rod to hand to him, and set a dime-sized piece of featureless metal on the table.
"What's this all about?"
"The rod is metallic. On the table is a magnet. Hold the rod between two fingers and feel for how it moves when I slide the magnet around, that will help tune your energy better for the reading."
"Okay..." Carter said, furrowing his brow and holding the rod as instructed. The whole process seemed outlandish, but he buried his skepticism out of politeness.
Valerie began to move the magnet across the table, and with a bit of concentration he started to feel the rod in his hand tilting to align with it.
"Woah, cool!"
"Shh. Focus," she said, voice cooled and smooth.
The odd ritual carried on for a few minutes, ending when Valerie took the magnet off the table and plucked the rod from Carter's hands. His thoughts were a tad fuzzy, but that was easily the fault of focusing so intently. Was Valerie smiling again? He couldn't tell.
She reached for the top of her tarot deck in a pronounced fashion, peeling off a single card with three fingers and placing it face down. "This is your perception card. It reveals your self-perceptions of love." Then she drew another card in the same manner, placing it next to the first. "This is your situation card. It explains your present footing with respect to love." The final card was drawn and placed with an extra flourish. "And this is your challenges card. It shows how to turn your obstacles into opportunities. Are you ready for your reading, Carter?"
"Absolutely," he answered in a reflexive fashion.
She turned over the first card, purple eyes quick to scan its face. "Your perception card is The Devil. You possess strong, burning passions which are often restrained." Tentatively, she turned over the second one. "Your situation card is The Queen of Swords, reversed. These strong and restrained feelings are further sealed under a layer of reticence." Valerie flipped over the third card in something of a hurry. "Your challenges card is The Knight of Wands. Bold action is needed to bring your dormant passions to life. Hmm... do you know what this means?"
"I-I'm not sure," Carter sputtered. Interpreting anything she had just told him felt like an impossible task. His train of thought had evaporated somewhere along the way.
"You have to make a confession, to open up to the person you're keeping your heart locked away from." Her violet eyes and their bizarre spirals seemed to capture his gaze with unusual intensity. "Who is that person, Carter?"
"You." The word tumbled right out of his mouth. "Since I first got here, it's been you."
The egg timer erupted in a cacophony of ringing, snapping Carter from his trance state and into a mild panic.
"Uh... I should get that!" he said, standing up from his chair far too quickly.
Valerie didn't respond, her pale face flushed so deeply it was nearly light pink.
Carter rushed over to the kitchen counter, snatching up his pair of oven mitts and hastily yanking open the oven door. A blast of heat and the smell of warm butterscotch poured out into the cabin, providing some relief from the thick atmosphere of awkwardness.
"What exactly did you do to me there?" he asked, confusion and curiosity seeping through the initial shock.
"Well, um... I..." Valerie sputtered, her hands already busy fidgeting with her hair and her dress. "I hypnotized you. Just a little."
"Oh, wonderful!" Carter laughed in a distressed manner. He pulled the brownies out of the oven and then removed his mitts. "Is that something you do to all your friends, or just people who invite you over for brownies?"
"No, I just—!" Valerie made an embarrassed squeak and brought her head down in shame. "Once you asked for a love reading, I-I wanted to know you'd tell the truth." Her voice grew even smaller. "Because... because I like you too, Carter. I just wasn't sure if you liked me."