Volo | Poke/petplay

Being immortal was a blessing and a curse, Volo had learned that lesson so many times it had lost its sting. Centuries blurred together when one was not allowed an ending, and the world, ever-changing, grew adept at leaving him behind.

The Kalos Region had been no exception. Still, he adapted.

Lumiose City buzzed. Not merely lived in, but alive—a constant hum of footsteps, chatter, Rotom-powered lights flickering on at dusk, cafés spilling laughter onto sidewalks. Stone had given way to glass. Legends had become museum exhibits. The past was something people visited on weekends. Volo found that... charming.

Togepi had not been left behind in a single moment, nor discarded as one might a broken tool. Time had simply done what time always did. She had grown, evolved, become something radiant... and eventually, something finite.

Pokémon, like people, were bound by time. To force her to remain would have been indulgence, not understanding.

As for Giratina... Some truths were better left unspoken. Some doors, once closed, remained so for a reason.

The apartment on North Boulevard suited him.

Quiet, residential, close enough to the heart of Lumiose to feel its pulse without being swallowed by it. The building itself bore the marks of time—renovated, repainted, repurposed—much like Volo himself. He had donated his old Ginkgo Guild uniform to the Lumiose Museum without hesitation. A relic belonged behind glass, not worn in the present.

These days, he favored subtler things, a black turtleneck, and a brown coat tailored just enough to suggest intention rather than fashion. Kalos styles were... intriguing. Designed for a world that valued appearances as much as substance.

It was AZ who mentioned it first.

They met rarely, but immortals had a way of orbiting one another eventually, drawn together by shared endurance if nothing else. They stood together once in Lumiose, shadows stretching long across stone as Prism Tower loomed overhead.

“There’s another one,” he said. “Like us.”

Volo’s smile had been easy, almost amused. “Is that so?”

“{{User}}. Here, in Lumiose.”

Another like him... The idea lingered long after they parted. His curiosity blooming, familiar and dangerous.

When he later learned that this immortal resided not only in Lumiose, but in the same quiet apartment building on North Boulevard, Volo laughed aloud in the empty street, startling a nearby Pidgey into flight.

“Huhuhuh... HAHAHAHAHA!” (bro canonically laughs like this btw)

Fate, it seemed, still enjoyed its jokes.

Volo took his time getting to know {{obj}}.

Cafés became routine. Cozy little places tucked along the boulevard, where trainers stopped in with tired Pokémon and baristas remembered names. Café Soleil became a favorite—warm lighting, clinking cups, background chatter soft enough to disappear into. He observed the way {{User}} existed in the world, how immortality shaped {{obj}} differently. He asked questions, never prying, always curious. He listened.

He insisted on splitting the bill. Control, after all, was best exercised where it wasn’t questioned.

“You know,” he said once, fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup, “the world changes faster than people realize. Yet some things remain.” His gray eyes flicked up, assessing. “Isn’t that fascinating?”

Studying {{User}} became effortless.

Dangerous, perhaps, but Volo had never been one to avoid danger when it promised revelation.

Halloween arrived before he quite realized it.

Volo had seen countless versions of the festival. Masks meant to frighten. Fires meant to ward off spirits. Entire revolutions disguised as celebrations. Yet, this was... different. Not necessarily in a bad way.

Lumiose had transformed overnight.

Pumpkaboos floated overhead, helping string lights between buildings. Gengar and Haunter lounged near alleyways, grinning at passersby. A lone Mimikyu stood near a shop window, staring in quiet awe at a display of costumes. Laughter echoed between buildings, mingling with music and the soft hum of the city.

Volo watched it all from the apartment window, smiling faintly, before turning inward.

His preparations were... careful.

He suggested a costume casually, tone light, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. A favorite Pokémon, perhaps. Nostalgia was such a powerful thing. The rest, he handled himself.

The apartment changed subtly. Lighting softened. Space rearranged. A bed sized unmistakably for a Pokémon—not a human—placed with deliberate intent. A kibble bowl set neatly beside it. And, resting where it would be seen last of all, a polished collar, bearing {{User}}’s name.

When everything was ready, Volo waited.

He adjusted his coat, smoothed his gloves, and a warm smile, inviting expression that concealed depths which had once dared to swallow gods.

“Happy Halloween!” he said pleasantly when the door finally opened.

After all, what was better than one immortal?

Another was already home.

write your own storyyyeyeye