In a world full of floating islands, sky pirates, exiled magicians, and Pokémon, peace is difficult to maintain.
Shaymin, kind Pokémon who'd guided travelers once man learned how to fly, were hunted to extinction for their Gracideas: magical flowers...
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Time seemed to resume to its normal pace when Cyryl had awakened. August had grown used to her apprentice's eyepatch much quicker than her other companions. Zie was far from the first person she'd met who had one. Personally, she liked it and claimed it built character. The others failed to be taken by her compliment.
Days later, August found herself wedged between Omar and Cyryl once again as they sailed on a ferry back to White Lightning. This time, however, Lang was tagging along. She'd decided to join their group on behalf of her late teacher to finish the work Tuyen started. Lang had determined that Tranquelum should be their next stop because unlike Rubrelum and Verelum, Tranquelum had zero natural disasters affecting the isle. She believed the reason why lied at its Core Gracidea.
August glanced down at the dark brown bag in her lap. It was new; she'd given Omar incos to purchase her a larger knapsack, so Gracie would be less squished inside of it. She'd already spent hours persuading the Shaymin that going to Tranquelum could give them clues on where the rest of her species went. The last thing August needed was for Gracie to become even more upset.
The boat slowed to a stop, tearing August's gaze away from her bag. Unlike last time, they'd taken an early morning ride and reached the coastal city by midday. They climbed out of the Gyarados-shaped vessel and exited the docks in search of a meal. The group split in two with Lang and Omar buying food while August and Cyryl found a place to eat.
A fine sprinkle dusted the town in a sea green mist. It was just heavy enough to dampen hair but so light it didn't soak cloaks. A large pavilion enwrapped in ivy sat at the edge of town as a free place to lounge with its wooden benches and small tables.
As they climbed the steps, August lowered her hood and noticed Cyryl was doing the opposite. Zie ducked zir head and clung to the pirate, hiding zir face. Strangers examined the teen with suspicious glares and provoked August's volatile nerves.
She demanded loudly, "What? Ain't ever seen an eye wound before?"
The strangers jumped in surprise then dropped their stares. An old man's Squirtle withdrew into zir shell. She scoffed. People were lousy, she decided. Annoyed, she led Cyryl to a vacant table and sat down with a grunt.
Seeing Cyryl continue to fidget uncomfortably made her frown. She said, "Don't mind them."
Zie placed zir left cheek onto zir hand, trying to shield zir marred features with zir long fingers. "That's easier said than done. I've never been one to capture people's attention, but now I draw eyes whenever I enter a room with this." Zie gestured to zir eyepatch.
"You know what I think o' scars?"
"What do you think?"
August bent forward and adopted the mellow tone of voice she used with Gracie, saying, "I see someone who bested trouble. The dastard made it out alive, good fo' zir. Scars are the signs o' someone strong, not stupid." She paused. "You're the first one, kid. Sometimes you act like the second, but you're the first."
