It doesn’t… really… work that way.
Evolution causes permanent chemical changes in a pokemon’s body that can’t be reversed. It’s kind of like how you can’t “extract the fire” from a burnt piece of wood and have it be un-burnt again.
…Endive could probably explain it better, sorry.
(( I’ve updated the reference pages somewhat, by the way… I’m gonna try to add more in the future but for now Basil, Endive and Toadstool now have their own individual ref pages with the information known about them from the blog summarized as best I could, which can be accessed by clicking the sidebar sprites… Tibnog and Silvio will share a page which I plan on updating with additional information about them at some point.
Hopefully they’re at least a little more informative than what I had before ))
(( They live in Hearthome City, Sinnoh. It’s on the sidebar and it has been referred to multiple times so it’d be pretty redundant answering IC, but don’t worry about it ))
I… haven’t told Toadstool about anything yet. Maisie’s trying to find more information at the moment and I don’t want to give Toto something new to worry about after already dealing with such a rough realization. Maybe there’s some suspicion, but I dunno.
…I’ve been spending most of my time checking on Wyatt in the Pokemon Center. I guess Toto and I have been avoiding each other since she confronted me about lying, to be honest. I’m not sure if Toto even knew about the research on Dawn Stones and our evolutionary line we were doing.
"I am not… Sure why. Maybe this headache," the Gardevoir rasped, closing his eye again for a few heartbeats before opening it. Though it could move, as his efforts plainly showed as he tried to look around the room without moving his head, it retained that unfocused gaze, even when he looked back towards Basil.
Wyatt twitched - not out of fear, but simple surprise, when he felt Basil’s touch on his hand. The three broad fingers on Wyatt’s hand curled a little, taking a weak grip on the bandaged hand placed under them. The contact, at least, seemed to help, and the slender Pokemon relaxed a little more, breathing deeply.
Pain was no stranger to Wyatt, but the ringing in his head, the constant pounding of pain like waves that just kept coming, was making it difficult to isolate it and ignore it. About the time he managed to repress it, another wave he wasn’t prepared for would break and undo his progress. The Pokemon’s fingers tightened their grip on Basil’s, and the Gardevoir closed his eye and took a deep breath, holding it. He didn’t know Calm Mind, but he’d had far too much practice stilling his mind on a frequent basis before he’d begun receiving treatment for his ‘problem’. By the time he was done, his face was almost frighteningly still before he uselessly opened his eye again.
"Not that I am complaining, any reason to visit is a good one, but… What am I doing here?" Wyatt asked. "This does not feel like my Pokemon Center, the sounds and impressions are all wrong… Where are we, sir?" Wyatt’s fingers tensed over Basil’s - not squeezing, merely going rigid. "I cannot- I sort of remember there was trouble, but- I cannot… There was something… Something big, and it was angry… But that is all I can…" he murmured, his eye closing again in a brief wince. Trying to remember made the pain return even through his self-control.
After recovering, the frail-looking Pokemon raised his other hand and rested it on Basil’s as well, fingers holding gently. A little of his usual sensitivity was returning now, thanks to stilling his mind and ‘putting away’ the pain, enough to feel faint traces of what the other ‘Gardevoir’ was feeling, and it made Wyatt slowly blink, confusing the source of Basil’s trepidation. “Is… Something wrong with me?” the Pokemon asked, his voice suddenly more hoarse with quiet fear. “Oh Arceus please do not tell me I was maimed again. My eye is still there, yes?” he asked, and the fear in his voice would give the not-so-subtle impression that he was terrified of being told ‘no’… As well as making his rarely-used voice break at the end as he grew louder out of sudden, irrational fear.
He knew his eye was still there, he was blinking it, but in his current state of slow panic at the thought of one of his worst nightmares come true, he needed the confirmation from an outside source that it hadn’t, in the same way a child often ‘needs’ confirmation that an injury is minor even though they could see it.
"No, no, that’s- I mean yes! Yes, it’s still there. No, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Basil said, mentally smacking himself for his potentially misleading slip-up in formulating the sentence. “I’m sorry I gave the wrong impression. I was caught off guard and I reacted poorly. It wasn’t because of you.” He had an urge to try to explain himself further; he knew he was an emotional mess and that Wyatt was probably becoming aware of it, but with the gardevoir in such a pained, weak and confused state he couldn’t see any amount of venting on his part doing anything but worsening the situation.
"You’re in Hearthome City, in Sinnoh. We found you on Maisie’s lawn- it looked like you teleported there- and some nice trainers helped to bring you to the Center. I don’t know of anything that happened before that, but it’s clear you’ve been through something pretty serious that hurt you a lot." His brows creased together, though he resisted the desire to tighten his grip on Wyatt’s hand - his arms felt like foreign objects after what had happened earlier.
"…It might not be best to dwell on it for now," he added, "if it’s a source of pain for you. If it would make you feel more comfortable, I could talk to the staff here about getting in contact with the refuge center back in Hoenn, and we can try to figure out what’s going on. There’s nothing to fear here, though."
Apart from, you know, the Abra and her ice-type companion going around beating people up and kidnapping them, probably because of you, the voice in his head told him in response.
Please don’t let what happened to Wyatt have anything to do with them.
Wyatt knew he should be trying to find out more about where he was, about what was happening. About why he couldn’t think very clearly - he could barely string his thoughts together cohesively. He could hear something moving around nearby him, shuffling around, knocking into things and grunting.
He did his best to shuffle away from the noise, but so much of him seemed to not want to cooperate. His mind, his memories, even his body. They were all betraying him, now, not wanting to work, not working to function properly. All he could do was try to shuffle over in the bed away from that noise.
Then he heard a voice, and even though he didn’t recognize the sound of it, when he heard those words he relaxed. It wasn’t some huge blue monster trying to kill him. It was Basil. Or a very well-informed liar, but he wasn’t going to consider that possibility. The Gardevoir’s sudden relaxation might have been frightening for a moment in its own right, had his breathing not been so deep and obvious. He’d been on the edge of hyperventilating in his fright.
"Basil?" the Gardevoir asked. His real voice was quiet, raspy and raw-sounding. Physical speech was a chore for the Gardevoir with his old injury - the movements of his mouth strained his damaged cheek. He never used it unless he was forced to by circumstance, as now. "How…" He paused to cough a little, groaning at the pain that went through his head. "How did I get here?" He remained staring at the ceiling, unmoving, not even blinking as he struggled to remember something, anything, besides that impression of dangling upside down, of fear and pain. The effort just made his head pound, the pain bouncing around inside his skull like echoing sound waves, and he let out a gasp and did his best to relax, to not think about anything, and after a moment, the pain passed.
"N-nevermind," he said slowly. "Hurts to… Think…" Despite Basil’s offer, Wyatt seems so shocked and confused still that he doesn’t seem to realize at first what Basil had said. He remained staring up at the ceiling, stock-still and slowing his breathing to manageable levels. Fear was an emotion. Emotions either benefited those feeling them, or were a detriment. Emotions that were a detriment could be repressed. Pushed down. Remain unfelt. He’d spent his entire life after he’d evolved into a Kirlia teaching himself that lesson. Emotions were not rampant, out of control forces that should be given free reign over the mind, they were not forces of nature.
They were tools. Meant to aid in survival. In situations where they did not help, they were to be ignored. Wyatt slowly forced his body to relax, forced his mind to relax - he took the constant fear his mind was trying to press onto him and folded it up, neatly, like a tablecloth, folded it over and over into a smaller and smaller package until it could be put back in the linen closet until it was needed again, like an emotion should - something he’d learned over the years of always being forced to feel the emotions of everyone else around him like his own.
When he finally felt as though he were capable of being his normal self, which was after several long, awkwardly silent moments had passed after he’d spoken, he turned his head towards Basil, and he seemed to tense up for a second before he made himself relax again. “I would take your hand,” he said calmly, and it became clear that though Wyatt’s head was turned towards Basil, his eye was unfocused. “…But I seem to be unable to see to do so.”
Basil let out a small relieved sigh upon realizing that Wyatt at least seemed to recognize him. That was a good thing.
He waited anxiously during the moments when Wyatt slowly came to his senses, while trying to sort words out of his own muddled thoughts to reassure and comfort his friend. He prepared to explain how Wyatt had teleported onto Maisie’s lawn and been brought to the Center, and advise him not to strain himself to think too much about the situation and focus on getting better.
But he was caught off-guard by Wyatt’s words after the gardevoir had taken the time to calm himself. “You- can’t see?” He repeated, confused, the words not quite sinking in for a moment until he finally noticed the gardevoir’s unfocused eye and the realization hit him. He felt an odd sensation akin to his soul deciding to drop out of his body and through the floor, and for a moment, had no idea how to respond at all. It wasn’t a situation he had expected or accounted for and he had no way of reassuring Wyatt everything would be fine and he would be able to see again.
Everything he’d had in mind to say had left him. Through years of training and treatment, he had learned to focus on positivity, and the ability to provide words of comfort had slowly come to him more easily. Somehow, he had managed to establish the mentality that the damaged parts of the fabric of life could be stitched up or woven back together, and while they would never be perfect or quite the same as they were before, they would still be… whole.
But now he just felt empty.
It came to his attention that he had wrapped his arms around each other and was squeezing them, and there was an odd kind of pain in his forearms - it felt like something had shifted… Suddenly realizing he recognized the feeling as the arms “sharpening”, he quickly unfolded them, trying to relax and let them go back to their normal position. It took a moment of using Calm Mind again.
"I’m - sorry-" he managed to rasp out. "I’m- um- here-" He very gently slipped his hand, the bandages on it now loosened slightly, underneath Wyatt’s. Was he afraid to touch him any more than that?
What’s wrong with me?
raimun (aka terrible person) requested a dress up party, so I drew one. Luckily, Basil and Friday are spared from embarrassment and Nic is a hard-boiled detective because Victor gets the dresses.
(( Oh my goodness this is wonderful))
(( Quick concept doodle for B+E’s parents
I decided years ago that they were a dusclops and a ralts who were bred in a center, churned out kids until the staff ran out of leafy vegetables to name them after and never really formed much of a connection with any of them or got to know them. Hadn’t really given much thought to their designs though ))
Wyatt was at least still breathing by the time the stranger had returned with the teleporting Xatu. Then it was only a short trip to take the injured Gardevoir to the Pokemon Center. The nurse had taken one look at the shape the obviously beaten and unconscious Gardevoir was in and immediately called for help. After that, Wyatt had been whisked off into the back of the Pokemon Center, and Basil had been forced to wait.
It had been a long wait too. When the nurse finally returned, it was to inform him that the Gardevoir had been badly beaten and struck repeatedly in the head. There didn’t seem to be any permanent damage yet, but the Gardevoir was showing signs of exhaustion and had an obvious concussion and continued to fall asleep - they presumed more from exhaustion than any damage, and so they were allowing him to rest rather than keeping him awake, and that he was free to have visitors, though they would get little for the visit as he was still sleeping deeply.
The Pokemon was not in good shape. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, but there was a pallor to his face as he slept. It was true that Gardevoir had white faces, but they could still go ‘pale’ - white skin was not the same thing as pale skin. His breathing was at least deep and regular, but he was unconscious.
And he stayed that way for nearly a day. A very un-kind day, especially to someone who might have a reason to fear being outside their home. Especially to someone in such a public place as a Pokemon Center, where Pokemon could enter and leave without much attention given to them and it would be painfully easy to create a diversion and…
When Wyatt woke up he did so slowly. He still felt like it was hard to think, like he was having to think through a fog. Everything was hazy in his mind and almost surreal. Where was he? What was he doing? The last thing he remembered… Why was he swinging? Was he being held upside down? The room spun around him. Was there someone there?-
The wounded psychic-type let out a sudden cry, his arms out in front of him defensively to ward off blows that had fallen a long time ago but that in his addled, foggy mind were still coming. The terrified psychic-type suddenly dropped back into the bed, realizing something was wrong. He wasn’t dangling, he could feel a bed under him. He wasn’t being held by the leg anymore, there was no touch.
But the fear refused to leave him, and he trembled helplessly in the bed, unable to think, unable to concentrate clearly enough to use any psychic power, just a trembling, softly whimpering bundle of nervous fear and confusion as the pain he was in caught up to him.
Wyatt’s yell suddenly and not-so-kindly snapped awake the pokemon who had, somewhere along the way, fallen asleep on the floor by the Gardevoir’s bedside.
For a moment, Basil was aware only of his heartbeat, pounding too quickly and seeming to reverberate back at him from the hard surface beneath him, and then his mind flooded with the horrific scenes of his nightmare and his friends dropping around him and what was that scream?-
He tried to scramble to his feet, but something was wrong with his hip- moreso than usual, and with a spasm he flopped unceremoniously and rather painfully to his knees. He breathed in sharply, gritting his teeth.
As the initial shock faded, he was finally able to get a grip on reality again. He was in a hospital room. His white robe was sweaty, his body was stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor, his hip hurt terribly, and his stomach was growling and felt sick- when had he last eaten? He couldn’t even recall- but there was no danger at hand. Celian and Réau were nowhere in sight. There was nothing dark closing in on him, no echoey voices. That had all been a dream.
Wyatt was injured, and Basil had no idea what had happened to him. That was real.
But Wyatt was awake. He had just screamed. He probably had no idea where he was.
Basil scooped up his hat, and attempted to get up more carefully. Using his cane, which had been lying on the floor near him, and putting as much weight as he could on his left leg, he made it to a standing position.
At the sight of the injured Gardevoir trembling and terrified in the bed, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying. The feeling of guilt plonked itself onto his head alongside memories of the conversations they’d had that always managed to make him feel better, Wyatt going out of his way to check on him when he was ill, and the time he had listened to everything- more than he had ever told Maisie or anyone else- and not judged him for it…
And when Wyatt was hurt, he had teleported to Basil- and what had he done? Sat there uselessly and panicked while a couple kids who didn’t even know them actually made an effort to get help for his friend. A part of him was saying that nothing he could do now would ever make up for what he hadn’t done before. He bit it back, and used his cane to lower himself slowly onto the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb the already terrified Gardevoir.
When he spoke, it was out loud, as he was still very cautious about speaking in Wyatt’s mind when he had a nasty head injury. Something he probably should have asked the nurses about earlier.
"Wyatt? Y-you’re in the Pokemon Center, in Hearthome City. You’re safe, I promise." He nearly choked on the word ‘promise’, remembering the last pokemon to whom he’d said that word. “I-I’m right here. You can hold my hand or lean on me if you need to.” He reached out a bandaged arm, but didn’t touch his friend- it was an old habit, really. In general he tended to avoid physical contact with others unless they gave him permission or touched him first, and in a case like this he didn’t want to startle him.