Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 50 - Heart to Heart

"OUT! NOW!"

Solid rocks slammed against the fleshy walls that surrounded Jerry. He spun around to make sure he was as far away as possible from any portion of it, and even beat his wings to make sure he wasn't touching the floor. He spat more rocks against the wall, but they just bounced harmlessly off, shattering on the floor.

Amia was silent in the corner of the room. Without sight, hearing, arms, or legs, all she could do was feel with her back and her head. Though, she had a peaceful smile on her face, like she knew she would be fine. Or, perhaps more likely, she was hallucinating from some strange cocktail that resided in this cursed chamber.

"I will NOT die this way!" Jerry shouted. He took a breath, ready to spit out another wad of solid rock, but nothing came. He didn't feel that solid mass forming in the back of his throat. He didn't have the aura for it—too strained. He coughed out a few pebbles and roughly shook his head. "Ungh—not like this... not like this...!"

He was starting to tire out.

"The air—there's no air in here," Jerry said, hyperventilating. He looked down at Amia. Motionless as ever. He looked up at the ceiling, where Emily's throat had been completely shut. "I have to—"

"Hey, Mister!"

Jerry spun in the air. In the strange, glowing flesh, someone had appeared next to Amia. A blue creature that was partially attached to the walls.

"What?" Jerry beat his wings several times, each one harder than the last. "Who are you?"

"I'm Vaporeon Tanneth!" She waved a paw at him. "It's okay! Emily's perfectly safe!"

"Yeah, no. Let me out!"

"Sorry, but we can't do that," Tanneth said. "Oh! Um, by the way, when you came in here, you dropped this! Do you need it? It seems really important." She held up a scarf.

"What? W-wait!" Jerry clutched at his neck, but this caused him to stop flying. He yelped and beat his wings harder, maintaining his altitude. But that split-second he had to feel his neck indicated, indeed, that he wasn't wearing the Stable Scarf anymore. He worriedly glanced at his feet, and then his tail, but it all looked normal.

"What's the matter?" Tanneth asked, tilting her head. "It's okay! It's only a little wet!"

"It's wet?" He weighed his options. On one hand, he could probably just put that on and it would dry off after a while. On the other, maybe being a puddle of sludge wouldn't be so bad. After all, melting didn't hurt—at least, not the sort of melting he had experienced. And it wouldn't be nearly as bad as whatever this Lugia and her demonic belly-dweller Vaporeon had in store.

"It's okay! I'll dry it off!" Tanneth got on her hind legs, using her thick tail to retain balance when she leaned back. She shook her front paws furiously, flinging water—Jerry hoped it was just water—in all directions. "There! All dry!"

Jerry stared. He didn't need to fly closer, or even squint, to know that what Tanneth did was nowhere near enough to satisfy a Rock Type on what it meant to be dry. "Listen, Water," Jerry growled, "I don't know what it means to be dry for someone like you, but me? That cloth is still wet. Very wet. It may not be dripping, but it's still not touching me. Ever."

"No, it's damp! That's a lot drier than wet!"

"IT'S NOT DRY!" Jerry's wings were getting tired. There wasn't any updraft in this place—he was either going to lose his stability from exhaustion, or he'd find a place to land. The ground all looked the same; there wouldn't be a good way to land and not have to deal with whatever dungeon this place was. He grumbled and finally transitioned into a steady glide, sticking out his feet for a landing.