Taleska Ghost Town, N/A

[Jackie Cat]

A sound ripped its way out of Jesse's throat. It sounded like the word 'no', at first – before it turned into an animal's howl. It didn't even sound dramatic, just a creature in distress, crying out (scared it would be him next). The weight of the phantom townsfolk on his body pressed his lungs, made him squeak, pathetic and miserable and useless. The gaslamps guttered, as if to mock his strangled sound.

Beneath the howling, the calculations continued, like they always did, the nauseous planning he could never quite turn off (not without getting blind-drunk, which was worse) and for a few seconds his restless brain stabbed and searched for a way to save Dave, even now. Blow air into his lungs, beat on his chest, move the blood in him with his psychic fucking powers that didn't fucking work. Then the struggle stopped, and with it, the tick-tick-tick problem-solving.

His mind presented a single, simple, beautiful solution. Cold and sharp and serrated as a steak knife.

Jesse stared at Thievul, the ghost without a mind to read, willing him to show an expression real enough to come off like a living 'mon. And though he didn't have the air in his lungs to howl it, he thought I'm killing you next.

The gaslamps went out, and the wind howled for him.

 

[Butterfree]

Dave woke with a ragged, heaving gasp and immediately had a mouth full of dirt. Loose, dry earth pressed in on him from all sides, an impossible smothering weight. His limbs flailed desperately for any room to move, lungs clawing for breath. All his brain could process was the blaring alarm of get out of here now, bursting out of him in the form of metal.

Dave used Relentless Soul!

He dragged himself free in a spray of sand and dirt, coughing and spluttering, and found himself face to face with a Delphox who looked like he'd seen a fucking ghost.

Well, he sure wasn't home with Jean.

Dave coughed up another helping of dirt. "Jesus Christ," he rasped out weakly. "You buried me without checking if I was actually fucking dead?"

 

[Jackie Cat]

When the first sounds came up – thumping and scraping from beneath the earth – Jesse had fought down the impulse to blast a crater in the gravesite, or flee, or cry out like a spooked kid. As the buried dog emerged, all he could think of was did I fuck up and what the fuck is happening and is it still him. It was, apparently. Now, Jesse fought down the urge to retch as Dave forced cold soil clear of his throat.

"No," he said, firmly, shaking his head at first, only to stiffen up at the feeling of the shakes coming over him. (If he kept still, maybe they wouldn't hit him too hard.) "No, I checked. I fucking checked, Dave. You didn't take a breath for..."

An hour? More; less? In a dungeon, who could fucking tell anyway. He shuddered miserably.

"You were gone, Dave. Trust me, I know what that looks like."

For once in his life he didn't have any curses strong enough for the occasion. He thought about asking Dave what did you see, while you were dead? and then thought better of it.

"It's good you're back," he said instead, and felt stupid for it. At least he'd said something. (Anything was better than silence.)