newdestination

[newdestination]

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#the other side of the coin || ooc #Mun mutterings #Like many things i tell myself ill come back and fix that later. And speaking of fixing things later #God. I kind of want to tear through the pages on this blog and fix them theyre a nightmare right now. They have been for a while. I dont #know what age i even have written but it sure as hell isnt 21 because i know i havent touched it in a long time. #mmmnbmnnmaybe. #Its hard to not think about the ingo blog when i'm actively writing a fic about the guy. only 5k in and already cracked my head open like a #egg about it. #considering bad life choices. bad life blog revival choices.

[newdestination]

I think we're gonna have to kill this guy, Ingo.

#submas #ingo #sneasler #hisui #the other side of the coin || ooc #ill be going back and tagging all of these as a blog specific art tag as soon as i figure out a good train pun for it #sneasler is weirdly difficult to draw

[newdestination]

Life's a pecha

#Ingo #Irida #PLA #submas #life's a peach <3 #i should probably make an art tag at this rate ngl #weird uncle. sharing food is a thing that can be so sweet i think #the other side of the coin || ooc

[newdestination]

Tell Me Your Name Again || by Value Select

#ingo #emmet #submas #pokemon #PLA #the other side of the coin || ooc #one more thing before bed. #tired u_u

[newdestination]

#Ingo #submas #the other side of the coin || ooc #I've been thinking about him lately. i wish i had more time #he was a delight #figured i might as well post this. as a treat #sneasel #shes there too <3 little missy

[newdestination]

omg im surprised you replied at all 😭 i'll definitely keep an eye out for you!!

not many legends arceus rps going on out there <\3

[Haha, surprise! It's a bit of a roll of the dice with tumblr, isn't it? I only saw this ask because I thought to check for more- no notifs on my end for most things. I can imagine the rp blogs have died out a lot since the initial influx- I don't really see a whole lot of new stuff crossing my dash these days, just the really dedicated people. I wish you luck in your legends endeavors!]

#Ahh... entropy. #the other side of the coin || ooc #today’s destination is… || answered #I forgot I had a tag specifically for asks. Maybe i should pull the blog back up on my computer sometime. #I think i'll just start attaching random ingo doodles to asks from now on #as a treat

[newdestination]

i feel so silly asking but do you perhaps still have muse for this blog..

[Hello! I still have this blog because i do still write Ingo from time to time, but I'm actually usually on discord- and i honestly haven't been able to do much of anything as of late. College really sucks up time. I may come back someday, but i don't know if it'll be anytime soon! I think the only thing i would come back to reply to independently would be the comic, but that depends more on them.]

#the other side of the coin || ooc #a little ingo to make up for it. baked him just for you #god its been a while- i missed his goofy face

[newdestination]

i feel so silly asking but do you perhaps still have muse for this blog..

[Hello! I still have this blog because i do still write Ingo from time to time, but I'm actually usually on discord- and i honestly haven't been able to do much of anything as of late. College really sucks up time. I may come back someday, but i don't know if it'll be anytime soon! I think the only thing i would come back to reply to independently would be the comic, but that depends more on them.]

#the other side of the coin || ooc #Sorry if this took a while to get to- can't see how old the ask is #but my tumblr app hides a lot of stuff from me. i degraded down to a version from like 2021 because i was tired of snoozing the video thing

[newdestination]

[@METROBOUND - Emmet & Ingo]

Fingers brush against cloth and stone, the weight of the pokeballs at his side a balm to his nerves. He's far from alone and unprepared despite the alarming change in locale... and company, it seems.

 It's jarring to see his own face so clearly, an imperfect mirror peering past the blinding flash of a handheld light. The noise was... just a man, eerie lookalikes notwithstanding.

Starter for @newdestination​

#sweet jesus i SWEAR im alive i promise i promise #This is Your Conductor Speaking || IC #UTA Lost and Found (1) || metrobound (Emmet & Ingo)

[newdestination]

// I'm not over this silly difference between our Ingo's @newdestination's Ingo and mine who is afraid of heights.

#HOOTS AND HOLLERS #<3 #ooc #proper tags later

[newdestination]

[@jackalesper - Drew]

The small butterfly seems to watch Ingo, calm despite the abrupt movement. It then picks up flight, peacefully coming to rest on Drew’s nose. The jackal gently bats it away and it moves onto his head, seemingly content to stay there. Drew seems to be equally as content in the butterfly’s new placement. At least now it wasn’t bothering the other esper.

Teal eyes carefully scan over the other, notting the torn jacket and hat. Drew internally wonders if perhaps he could repair them? Ah—a thought for later. They note how foreign english is on the other’s tongue, wondering if perhaps he’d found themselves in a different part of the world? It could explain where he was. Not home. The butterfly flaps its wings a few times but makes no move to leave. So they were in another country? How curious. He notes the phrasing of Ingo’s words but makes no comment.

They follow Ingo’s eyes, up at the large rift in the sky. Teal eyes widen briefly, ears pointing towards the view. Had that been where he came from? Surely not. Then again, it didn’t look like any known miracles. Perhaps a new kind? He focuses back on the other, free hand moving to gently place itself over their chest. “My name is Drew, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ingo.” He replies in turn.

“I do apologize if I’m intruding on your land. I was just in the middle of a fight against some miramon. Next thing I know I’ve found myself in unknown lands. It’d be greatly appreciated if I may know where I am exactly?” One ear tilts down a bit, mimicking the imagery of a tilted head. “You wouldn’t perhaps know where this place is in relation to Union city, do you?”

The... move, for a lack of a better descriptor, doesn't actually seem to behave much like an attack at all. The miniature beautifly does little more than flutter about the man's muzzle, making itself at home. No, not just a man- Drew. A... remarkably normal sounding name, all things considered. He dips his head in acknowledgement, hands falling to fold neatly behind his back.

"As I said before, you are in the Highlands of Mount Coronet, Hisui. We are in the direct center of the continent, if that helps any." Ingo repeats himself once more, watching the way the man's ears twist and turn. It's a little hard to look away from, to be honest. "I'm afraid i haven't heard of a... Union City before. Or miramon, for that matter." His immediate assumption is that they're a non-native species of pokemon- though, it certainly strikes him as strange that he doesn't recognize them simply by name.

"...There was no such intrusion. It's simply my responsibility to maintain and facilitate the safety and transportation of passengers across these mountains." He supposes that... definition would extend to cover those such as Drew himself, now that Ingo's stopped to consider it. He is almost certain that the job description was only meant to include the safety of the clans and the village, but he could hardly call this a stretch of the definition when he was already helping regardless of allegiance or lack thereof. Physical appearance or origins have never exactly factored in before- why should he start, if Drew seems to be perfectly capable of being polite?

Coming to a decision, Ingo pulls himself up to his full height, heels knocking together with a wooden-sounding clack.

"Very well! I myself might not know about your... Union City, was it? but perhaps someone from Jubilife Village will. The line to a more suitable location is back in operation- will you be riding with us today, sir?" He snaps to gesture back down the way he came, a pointer finger aimed with the final destination of his home in mind. He's going to need to send out a message to Leader Irida to keep her informed on the situation, and the wilderness is hardly an ideal place to stop for a casual conversation after such an... event. He isn't interested in seeing just how unpredictable the local pokemon can get under the current circumstances.

#This is Your Conductor Speaking || IC #The Foreign Gentleman (1) || jackalesper [Drew] #A World of Mortal Gods || Dislyte Crossover #there we go :)

[newdestination]

|≡| Is anyone else having trouble viewing their notes on their sideblogs? I haven't been able to access this blog's stuff for a while now and it's driving me crazy. |≡|

#sighs. ill fill out the proper tag later #The Other Side of the Coin || OOC #its now later :)

[newdestination]

[@jackalesper - Drew]

The jackal is silent, looking around the unfamiliar area. Where—was he? They spot what appears to be a a small village off in the distance though it’s nowhere near in size to Union city. He fishes out their phone, turning it on to find there was no signal. Strange. The item is pocketed and switched out with a communicator, one built to gain signal even from a distance to the nearest cell tower. Still nothing. Not only that but it seemed to have been fried. How peculiar.

Drew puts the device away to continue looking around, trying to find some sense of where he was or even what to do. Had their communicator been working he would’ve been able to update the Union on where they were. His ears flicker back, in the direction of footsteps that don’t try to hide their existence. They bring the sword to his front, closing their eyes briefly before putting the weapon back into its sheath. It now looked only like a simple staff.

He then turns swiftly in the direction of where the noise had stopped. Drew briefly takes a moment to dust themselves off and adjust his clothes before speaking. “Do come out. I promise my blade will not come to harm you unless necessary.” Their voice is soft but polite. “I seem to be a bit lost. Can you tell me where I’ve wound up?” He asks, truly hoping whoever was hiding was actually an esper and not a wild animal.

Drew patiently waits to see who or what was hiding, holding the staff as their side. A small, purple butterfly begins to float around the esper, having seemingly marerialized out of nowhere. The esper quietly watches it a moment before it comes to land on the bush the unknown entity was hiding behind. Drew’s ears tilt backwards briefly before righting themselves once more.

Ingo is content to observe from his place within the brush, quietly watching as the pokémon rifles through the pockets on their... suit jacket? Sure, there were a few pokémon out there in the world that had things that appeared similar to clothing, but he hasn't heard of anything with pockets. In fact, he could hardly even imagine where the coat might have attached to the body with the way the material folds with their movement, it for all intents and purposes behaving as an entirely separate entity. An odd thing to get stuck on, but a stop he finds himself at nonetheless.

Hand settling on Tangrowth's pokeball at his side, Ingo isn't given the opportunity to fully decide on an appropriate course of action before the pokémon vocalizes... something, the meaning behind their words slow to arrive to his station. The shape of the foreign figure's speech pulls at the back of his mind- because really, that's what that is, as implausible as it feels staring down the muzzle of a creature from the rift. It's... It's Galarian, like some of those that hail from Jubilife speak.

He's quick to put some form of distance between himself and the strangely colored... thing that sprung from the man's side, pacing a little further out into the open in accordance with the stranger's request. They're both in clear view of one another now, his own vision finally unobscured by shrubbery. The tiny beautifly-shaped thing isn't exactly hard to miss. Was it from a move he simply didn't recognize? The color insinuates some form of fairy or psychic attack, but he could hardly say for certain one way or another without seeing it in proper action- assuming it did much of anything in the first place. Irregardless, any possible safety concerns are to be met with due respect regardless of how polite their source may seem. Or impolite, considering the underlying threat to the man’s otherwise soft demeanor.

"Ah. Pardon me... sir?" His finger dance across the hard bill of his cap, running over the scrapes and dents in a familiar gesture. It takes him an uncomfortably long moment to find his footing in the language he'd nearly forgotten he actually spoke up until now, a heavy Hisuian lilt dogging his voice as he makes the mental switch onto clearer tracks.

"You... Yes, i..." Ingo's attention only drifts slightly upwards towards the rift in acknowledgement, a little too unnerved to not keep the stranger within sight. He isn't especially concerned about any sort of sudden action, but... well.

"...These are the highlands of Mount Coronet. You made quite the spectacle disembarking onto my station." The terminology he's prone to using fits better within the gaps of Galarian, the foreign tang blending away into similarly built words in a way he hardly notices in the moment.

“I am the Warden of this area, Ingo. I... Don’t suppose you would have a name?... or some sort of moniker?”

#sorry about the no icons. ive done them in the past but man is it exausting to draw a new one for every post #hes a little too polite to just come out swinging with the 'why are you a dog' question but its probably going to come up sooner rather #than later lol #also. 'unless necessary' i can FE #EL #the 'ingo will remember that.' bubble popping up as we speak #The Foreign Gentleman (1) || jackalesper [Drew] #A World of Mortal Gods || Dislyte Crossover #This is Your Conductor Speaking || IC #ok i godda call it here i cant focus ;_; #i might come back and edit it later if i think i didnt do great on something... i dunno.

[newdestination]

[@jackalesper - Drew]

Drew had been fighting Miramon, being called in by the union when several had suddenly appeared in the city. It had been pretty straightforwards, with three Miramon. Despite being so close to the sonic Miracle and getting a subsequent boost in power, Drew wasn’t struggling. He wasn’t an OPS chief for no reason.

They stumbled back a bit as the Miracle set off a pulse, looking up at it’s imposing figure. The Miracle continued to let off pulses, the Miramon recovering from their wounds quickly. Shit. Drew was quick to turn into his shadow form, heading directly towards the strongest of the Miramon. They drew his sword and phased his body through the creature, weapon making contact with it. He then materialized when on the other side.

Silence.

Odd. Miramon usually let out a noise before vanishing. Drew was quick to stand, turning around to prepare for an attack. Only—he wasn’t in the city anyone. They stood upright, looking around at the—mountain side. It was silent, a stark contrast to the bustling noises of the city. He looks around, ears twitching towards ever new sound. Where…was he?

It had been a rather average morning, all things considered. Gathering the ingredients to store away in preparation for his noble's typically preferred meals had been panning out to be an all-day endeavor, and it was simple and calming for Ingo to lose himself in the routine. He and Machamp slowly swept from area to area, gathering up what they could find and reinstating some of the many torches that lay scattered across the most heavily-travelled paths. Operations had been going rather well until Ingo had stopped to take note of a strange glow against the shiny rind of a berry, the ambient light taking on the strangest tint the longer he stares. It isn't until he directs his gaze upwards that the true source is revealed, confusion quickly shifting gears into a sense of dread.

The rift. Prismatic light scatters in a web against the afternoon sky, pulsing and writhing against the space caught within its grasp. The sound it begins to emit makes his hair stand on end, the cliffsides brimming with wildlife falling silent alongside him. The phenomenon only seems to grow as the seconds tick by, completely overtaking his part of the mountain in a crescendo of rising color and sound. Like a broken record, some quiet part in the back of his mind helpfully supplies. Skipping and screeching, an awful wail that drills against the bone of his skull. And then it all just...

Stops.

The silence that descends in the wake of the expanded rift is almost worse than the cacophony it deigned to unleash, not a soul daring to breath into the aftermath. He barely catches the shape of something drifting- something falling against the dark backdrop of the rift's comparatively dormant form in a blaze of blue, landing securely within the boundaries of Lady Sneasler's- and by extension, his- territory. That's...

Well. It looks like it's his problem, now.

"...Pardon me," Ingo shoulders off the basket full of crunchy salt and a medley of berries to offer it up the the Machamp at his side, restlesness itching at his fingertips. "Would you kindly return to our home station? I'm... afraid something has come up." He doesn't bother to wait for a response, coat flaring as he turns to make his way up the mountainside. The world passes by in a blur, his tracks set in the direction of the fallen light. It is his responsibility to ensure the safety of all passengers entering and exiting the area, and an unknown element from the rift is about as large as safety hazards get. Whatever it is, people are going to need to know before operations may resume.

Ingo had braced himself for any number of things, but the pokémon standing at alert within the impact zone still manages to catch him off guard. Roughly average height, a fine-cut suit, and... a notably long, dark muzzle. He almost would have mistaken the creature for a man in a particularly interesting mask were it not for the way the pokémon's tall ears squivelled and turned at the slightest of sounds. Whatever it may be, he suspects he might have even already been heard- Ingo's fully aware that footfalls quiet enough to not disturb the sneasels isn't always light enough to fool everything. Sneaslers and their pre-evolution are hardly known for their keen senses.

Falling into a low crouch Ingo opts to maintain his position at the edge of the treeline to observe, not entirely sure what to expect. He's long since learned his lesson about immediately approaching anything in the wild that he isnt intimately familiar with- he is fairly certain he made his presence known with the way he'd come bumbling in, but there was no need to escalate for now.

Ingo palms one of the hopo berries he had saved with the intent on giving to his own partners, debating on the proper course of action. Perhaps tempting them closer for a proper look would be a decent move? Though, he'd hate to get caught on the wrong end of that strange sword.

...Would Sneasler be pleased about this being under her purview? She's always had something of a proclivity for things from the rifts and destabilized zones.

#claws my way out of an early grave #im going to have to go back and reformat this when i can get on the computer but man i have NOT slept yet and i godda work... augh #excuse the longposting i had some setting building 2 get outta the way;; #hes approaching this from a wild animal angle which... does not make him look especially reasonable. stand up king #The Foreign Gentleman (1) || jackalesper [Drew] #This is your conductor speaking || IC #A World of Mortal Gods || Dislyte Crossover

[newdestination]

|≡| Making this post from mobile because i've got a migraine, but i probably should have announced my short hiatus a little sooner- i probably wont have the time to work on anything until after the semester ends, since ive been in the thick of it these last few days. Sorry :( |≡|

#the other side of the coin || ooc

[newdestination]

[@rebornbythunder - Red]

It takes a few moments for his mind to register it, the rattle of a marble of recognition falling out from one of the abysses that were the holes in his history. Probably from the pain or poison, the reaction is slow enough that his body almost doesn’t react. Which is good, considering that every other time this has happened it ended up with him in some excited frenzy where he realized that his old studies breathed in front of him, with the rapid heartbeat and almost involuntary stimming that came along with it absolutely not conductive to a safe transport. Or, continued life right now. But that wasn’t the case here, no.

Once that recognition hit, it settled differently in his chest, twisting over itself in a way that ached and hurt. Distantly, the blurry shape of a ghost of a man that he could not recall crept into his peripherals, companioned by a Machamp in similar stature to this one. The scolding of “you need to be more careful!” and “you spend too much time up on that mountain, look at you!” echoing in the way nearly-lost memories do, not giving up the true sound of this mystery man, or his relationship with Red.

He doesn’t notice how long he was silently lost in thought until they are nearly at their destination, and he recognizes with some mild confusion that his face is wet. With a sniffle, he wipes the tears from his face, and uses the chance to readjust his own hat. The blood and dirt certainly not a new addition to the fabric, it’s wear and tear originating over a decade prior, not that Red knew that.

Idly, he wondered how Pikachu was, his partner deciding to continue sleeping off a day cold the pokemon had acquired while Red had explored, leaving him near Melli’s encampment that the man ‘tolerated him hanging around’. He knew at this point he more than tolerated his company, but that was neither here nor there.

Red sniffled, and shivered, the latter an effect of the poisoning, and not the cold shock of the aching memory fragment he was saddled with now. He didn’t have the energy to chase it, to pull it apart in his hands, so he just laid still in Machamp’s grasp, trying to make things easier on the pokemon as if he were some great burden.

“[Thank you,]” he signed again, this time at Machamp. Red didn’t know and frankly didn’t care if the pokemon shared his understanding of signing with his human, or even saw it. He just needed to show gratitude.

Despite all of the goings on, despite the pain and the discordant memory that threw him off center, Red loved the Highlands at large. Now in an area of it that he rarely ventured to out of respect, he could look at it with fresh eyes. The young man managed a smile. Beautiful as any of it, he confirmed with a nod, he understood why Ingo’s charge -Lady Sneasler, the ink-and-paper part of his mind helpfully supplied- would make her home here.

Ingo only stalls his engines long enough to ensure Machamp actually has Red in a secure hold, arms wrapped around like a cradle. There’s not a lot of time to spend meandering- he pulls himself tall with purpose, his normal loping shufflestep drawing out into long, quick strides. He leads them both up and up, past rivers and trickling streams, through and over craggy cliffsides and sudden ravines. One of the few stops he actually bothers to make is at a shallow pond, stooping just long enough to work off most of the drying blood in its waters. He can still see the way some of it clings to the underside of his nails, pervasive and uncomfortable, but there really isn’t much he can do about it at this junction- nitpicking personal hygiene isn’t at the top of the priority list as long as he can safely touch things without tempting disease. 

The other detour could hardly even be called a stop, Ingo swiping a few Pecha berries off the lowest bough of a tree with a halfhearted jump along the way. He almost didn’t even need to- Pecha trees are always rather tall, but he’s quite the same when he stands proper. More than enough to reach what grows low to the highland floors.

It, comparatively, does not take long at all for them to make it back to his home. Ingo really hadn’t been all that far away when he caught wind of what was happening, in the middle of starting lunch for himself and Sneasler. The warden probably wouldn’t have noticed at all if it wasn’t for the worried little claws pulling at the edge of his pants, one of the more softhearted kits from the Lady’s first litter desperate for his attention. Concerned chirrs, anxious gestures- it isn’t always something important, but he knows better than to completely disregard what the sneasels have to say. His noble isn’t there when they get back, but he has zero doubts that she is quite close. Her nest is many feet above his own, and he’d had a rather abrupt departure- Sneasler likes to keep an eye on his comings and goings.

The scenery flies by, a small hovel of a home coming into view as the three of them crest the top of an outlook. It’s carefully tucked out of view without a careful eye, the galaxy-esque construction hidden against the stone face of the spire. It’s notably a much more permanent structure than the typical tents of the Pearl clan, heavy planks and stones built directly into the cliffside. Ingo doesn’t spare a moment lingering outside, shouldering open the solid-looking door with a grunt. The smell of his half-done dinner follows as his pokemon ducks through the entryway, greeted with surprisingly organized-looking clutter. Baskets, bins, and boxes line the walls alongside berries and herbs strung from the ceiling like fairylights. The one-room home is lit by the embers of a fire heating a pot and the open door alone, shutters drawn tight over the windows.

“Excuse the mess,” he says without too much thought, skipping around the pot to rummage through a shallow drawer.

Machamp doesn’t wait for a command to settle Red onto the step up from the dusty entryway, evidently having done this often enough for there to be a familiar protocol. The thank you from his passenger goes almost entirely unnoticed, the pokemon being far more interested in pressing his face against the man’s hands than he is trying to decipher whatever it may mean. Ingo may know, but it doesn’t seem like he’s tried to teach it to the members of his team.

“Deadhead, bring the tub please.” It almost doesn’t need to be said- the Machamp is already partway out the door at the sound of his name, dissappearing in a flicker of yellows and pale blues.

“It's almost over... I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that for me?" (@newdestination)

Melli had warned Red. Had warned him over and over to be careful wandering out too far from Moonview Arena without being with someone. That it was dangerous, that he was reckless (and a little scrawny noodle) and could get himself badly hurt. But true to himself, Red hadn’t listened, and got himself cornered by a pissed off sneasel. A sneasel! Something about the concept absolutely floored part of him that wasn’t fully accessible, as if it was a joke that he couldn’t remember the punchline to. Or maybe at this point, he was the punchline, as the fighting/poision type had ripped a hole straight through the fabric of his threadbare jeans, and dug a deep gash into his leg.

Honestly, it was pure luck that Ingo had found him in time, and decided to help him.

Red grit his teeth, gripping his leg in a futile effort to keep the pain at bay while Ingo worked. He took in a slow breath, and on gentle orders managed to open one of his eyes. Ooh man that looked nasty.

He let go of his leg with one hand, and signed a shaky “[Thank you]”, knowing full well that more likely than not Ingo wouldn’t understand him even if he had been looking. He managed to whisper it aloud, through grit teeth.

#Deadhead is a train term! ingo didnt think about how ominous it sounded when he named machamp #also. god. ive been so busy ;_; #finals are killing meeeeheheeheeee... sobs #im sorry if there was a quality drop :( #This is Your Conductor Speaking || IC #With all of the Colors (1) || frostbittxntrainer-returned [Red] #I'll have to change the user tag if we start another rp #cw gore #Derailed || Gore #cw injury #plopping that down for the entire thread i think

[newdestination]

[@frostbittxntrainer-returned - Red]

Ingo wasn’t kidding; that antidote really did sting. Red killed a pained sound between his teeth, holding his leg as still as he could manage, the strange tug of stitches and their sting also an encouragement to stay still. Thankfully, it seemed like the worst of the pain was just from the initial contact… That, or he had begun to dissociate from the injury, which in this case was less than ideal.

He steadied his breathing again, trying hard to match up with Ingo’s as a point of focus. It wasn’t quite exact, and he abandoned the effort once he felt that he was grounded enough, making sure to keep the pain from his wound bare minimum in his periphery.

Pain with injuries like this was highly valuable information, even if it wasn’t pleasant. He knew this. He had no idea how he knew this, but the space where his right pinky finger once was ached, and Red wasn’t sure if it was an effect from the poision or the echo of a memory that wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t have the brain space to chase it, so he accepted it at face value.

When Ingo asked if Red was against being moved by a pokemon, he shook his head. “[That’s fine,]” he signed, hands just a little too shaky for his own comfort. In actuality, Red trusted pokemon more than he did most people. He felt nauseous, but not badly.

“[Thank you,]” he signed again, despite Ingos previous protests.

Ingo sits back on his feet and allows himself a moment to breathe, twisting with a loud crack to free the ache that sprung up in his back while he had been hunched over like that. He probably shouldn’t be putting too much stress on himself at his age- even if he doesn’t necessarily feel old enough to warrant the caution. Nobody feels as old as they are, or so he’s been told by Warden Calaba.

He spares a moment to look Red over again as he clips things back into place save for his hat and coat. He’s a little unwilling to do them any more damage even if the blood would not show particularly well on the faded blacks and browns of the material. His assessment of the man’s condition is… not ideal, but certainly survivable. Nonvital, large and combatting the effects of poisoning, but not dead on the spot. He’s still young- people that age are rather rubbery with the way they spring back from injuries, and there’s been worse that others have completely recovered from.

He just hopes that Lady Sneaseler takes a liking to him. Otherwise this is going to be… difficult, to say the least. Ingo cannot care for someone Sneasler won’t accept as a warden, not even considering the special kind of painful it'd be were he to try anyways. A transfer of responsibilities would be in order, and he can hardly think of anyone other than Warden Melli and a kind soul from Jubilife. Would Melli even have the appropriate learning to care for something like this? Electric shocks, certainly, but Sneasel poison and deep wounds are hardly the purview of someone who lives a life of proper caution under the protection of a Lord. There are designated healers within clans for a reason, and Ingo had spent most of his initial term here stationed with one.

Fumbling for the pokeball on his belt, he flips the latch without bothering to even take it off the loop. Machamp springs from it in a small flash of light, already spinning to face him. It doesn’t take long for the pokemon to catch onto the situation, scooping up the few things still left in the dirt and returning Ingo’s hat back to his head rather forcefully- an act of kindness, albeit a bit of a painful one. It nearly blocks half his vision this way but there isn’t much he can do in terms of readjustment, hands still dirty enough to dissuade him from the thought.

There’s no point in trying to work the dismembered pant leg off of Red right away- those are probably a lost cause unless he decides he’s interested in a pair of incredibly small shorts. Ingo sure as hell can’t fix them- he’s never quite gotten the hang of sewing, the tremor in his hands determined to fight him every step of the way. A repair that large is downright out of the question. He just motions for Machamp to pick them up, directions lingering on his lips.

“Careful- this man is still undergoing repairs. We are off to our home station.” His words earn him a curious grumble as they move to obey, lifting Red into the air like he weighed nothing more than a young shinx. Machamp are hardly known for their delicacy, but it’s been fine in the past. He’s the only pokemon under Ingo’s care that can effectively do this anyways, despite the range of options available. Tangrowth would be far gentler and Alakazam could levitate him, but the former wouldn’t be able to keep up and he’s still working on dicipline with the latter. Gliscor is just… a poor choice, given the alternatives.

Ingo turns to leave as soon as he’s certain Machamp has it handled, hands still itching to readjust the hat placed haphazardly back onto his head. He pointedly refrains.

“It's almost over... I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that for me?" (@newdestination)

Melli had warned Red. Had warned him over and over to be careful wandering out too far from Moonview Arena without being with someone. That it was dangerous, that he was reckless (and a little scrawny noodle) and could get himself badly hurt. But true to himself, Red hadn’t listened, and got himself cornered by a pissed off sneasel. A sneasel! Something about the concept absolutely floored part of him that wasn’t fully accessible, as if it was a joke that he couldn’t remember the punchline to. Or maybe at this point, he was the punchline, as the fighting/poision type had ripped a hole straight through the fabric of his threadbare jeans, and dug a deep gash into his leg.

Honestly, it was pure luck that Ingo had found him in time, and decided to help him.

Red grit his teeth, gripping his leg in a futile effort to keep the pain at bay while Ingo worked. He took in a slow breath, and on gentle orders managed to open one of his eyes. Ooh man that looked nasty.

He let go of his leg with one hand, and signed a shaky “[Thank you]”, knowing full well that more likely than not Ingo wouldn’t understand him even if he had been looking. He managed to whisper it aloud, through grit teeth.

#ingo you are like. 27 at most #might be 26 here #what are you talking about #This is Your Conductor Speaking || IC #Derailed || Gore #cw gore #cw injury #With all of the Colors (1) || frostbittxntrainer-returned [Red] #also i know he didnt respond to the thank you but man i couldnt figure out how to fit it in At All without like doubling the length of this #he simply does not see it u_u no thank yous until youre done dying