#speculative fanfic centered around best boi Volo

[shidoukanae]

This is from a Volo-centric WIP I abandoned because I realized I don’t know enough about Volo’s character from the two scenes we see of him to write anything that is remotely cohesive. 

Regardless, I like how this reads even if it’s clunky so here is a WIP Volo-centric fanfic chock full of ideas I doubt are in the actual game lol:

~~ ~~ ~~

There is a void in his mind. It is dark and empty, like a rotting abyss of things better left unsaid. There is no light to this place, nor is there truly any darkness. Instead there is only a knowing, one that burrows deep into his bones as he travels through this lonely place, arms cradling his body and a chill permeating his skin.

Volo has visited this place many times before. Has felt its strangeness in a way he’s felt nothing else. He is welcome here, but also an intruder. Though he knows himself as a guest to this place, one brought here by his own mind’s eye, he also realizes that the place he treads is sacred, like the stomping grounds for Noble Pokemon.

It is hard to explain this place. There is nothing to explain, and yet it exists all at once: a plane of emptiness that exists on the cusp of nowhere yet somewhere still. All he knows is that he must keep walking forward. If he doesn’t, he’ll feel those eyes upon him. He’ll feel the phantom breath of a ghost on his neck, see the glistening of a shadow just out of view, and then he’ll be wrapped in inky blackness, dragged into misery and torment long before he can awaken.

Step, step, step. He continues moving forward, approaching an end that is never coming. As he does so, a curious sight begins to manifest. Shapes formed from misty light emerge from the nothingness, screaming with a cry that goes beyond anything he’s ever heard before. Step, step, step. The beings move in a way that is incomprehensible, tossing and turning, contorting and writhing, and all he can think to do is keep his head down as he moves forward, knowing better than to look directly at them. Something glistens in front of him. He hears the echo of footsteps beside him, feels the touch of skin upon his own, as if he is accompanied by more than just himself. However, he cannot see them, nor can he dare to look at them. They are just mirages in this place, mere figments of his imagination meant to taunt him. He must not look at them. For, if he does, he’ll be dragged down with them, caught in the turmoil of the beasts shrieking before him. Blue and pink and yellow blink in his vision, swirling with desperation, as if calling to him. Some part of him yearns to heed the call of the colors, to turn his gaze up and to witness the spectacle taking place before him. But he keeps his head turned to the floor of this nothingness, expecting nothing more than to keep trekking forward. Step, step, ste- ~~~ Volo is tired of waking up fatigued as hell and tormented by incomprehension. It’s been five years since he’s immigrated to Hisui from his own region back home and five years still he’s found no answers to his problems. The dreams that haunt him continue to do so, plaguing his every dreaming moment to the point he’s certain it’s only a matter of time before he goes insane. Ginter doesn’t seem to appreciate his pouting, however. The man has already entered his tent without permission, staring down at the man with arms crossed and an expression that says he’s not ready to take any excuse Volo gives him. “You’re supposed to be guarding the camp today,” Ginter tells him. “Why are you still sleeping?” He rubs his eyes. Yawns. And then nestles back into his covers, Ginter be damned. “I don’t think you can consider my dreams sleep.” Ginter gives an aggravated sigh and Volo is not in the least surprised by the way the older man rips off his blankets and practically shoves him out of bed. It’s expected by now, but it doesn’t mean he hast to like it. He grumbles loudly, reluctantly coming to a stand as he dusts off his night clothes and gives the man a tired stare. “Oh come on now. You know what it’s like for me.” “With that attitude, you’ll never get an audience with Lady Cresselia,” Ginter tells him firmly. “You know she only-” “Appears before those who are good in heart and deed,” he finishes with a sigh, fingers combing through his already messy hair. “Yeah, yeah. We all know the legend. I don’t need reminding for how unfit I am for her, thank you very much.” The older man shakes his head, pats Volo’s shoulder, and then clutches it firmly. “Darkrai’s curse will stay with you for as long as Cresselia deems it. Unless you earn her mercy, she will not spread her wings for you.” He nods. He’s heard this talk so many times before and yet even still Ginter tells him about it. Volo knows the man he knows as his leader means well. But, that doesn’t mean he wants to be reminded of his own inadequacies in being unfit to meet the deity who can cure him of his troubles. “We’re heading to Jubilife Village tomorrow,” Ginter tells him. “When we get there, maybe we can ask the locals if they’ve sighted Her.” “You say that like we have a lead. We never have a lead.” “Cresselia is a flighty goddess. You never know where she might visit yet.” Volo once again nods, not wanting to argue any further. He’s tired and he’s got a patrol to do, he doesn’t need this nonsense. Ginter frowns at him, as if sensing his argumentative spirit, before the older man simply beckons him to the world outside. Volo obliges, leaving the tent. Jubilife Village, he thinks with a puff of misty air leaving his mouth. A shiver wracks his body: it’s much colder outside the tent. “There’s no way I’ll learn anything about her there,” he muses, knowing it to be the truth. After all, the goddess hasn’t been sighted for ten years now, not since Ginter last laid eyes on her in the glory of the golden plains of Eastern Hisui. He’s not likely to learn anything new about her now. ~~~ Well, as it turns out, Volo is completely and utterly wrong. According to Akari, one of the researchers under the control of the Galaxy Team, there’s been reports of a mysterious creature who fits Cresselia’s description. The reports are flimsy and vague, mostly suggesting that the goddess appears on nights of the full moon bathing in the waters of the nearby shores, and Volo knows he has to see her for himself. At first, he plans to approach the place of the hauntings by himself, calling upon his Rapidash to carry him to the destination. However, when he finds himself blocked by the advances of a herd of Wydeer, he finds himself helped by Rei, Akari’s traveling companion. The two of them approach the lake in question, curious to sight the legendary Pokemon for themselves. However, what Volo sees is something else entirely. From the waters of the shore they tread upon, a small creature the size of a Hisuian Growlithe emerges. It is a strange gray creature with a red gemstone glowing from its forehead. Twin tails fluttering behind it while eyes that seem to be snapped shut gaze upon them in a way that should be impossible. The creature looks upon Volo and he looks upon it. It’s beautiful yellow feathers glisten with water, glittering under the light of the moon, before it vanishes back into the water, melting into it like a Vaporeon as its disappearance leaves nary a ripple on the lake’s surface. Rei is impressed and beyond excited at their find. A new Pokemon, a new friend to capture. Volo, on the other hand, is stung by the disappointment of his high expectations. Lady Cresselia is not here and nor is his hope at a panacea for all his miseries. ~~~ The Pearl and Diamond Clans are fighting again. Somehow, his guild is caught up in this. The Ginkgo Guild is taking sides, sympathizing with one clan over the other and drawing the ire of their peers. While most of the guild is made of immigrants, a few have come from the snowy city of the Pearl Clan and others from the balmy seaside of the Diamond Clan. And each are stubbornly true to the ideals from their homeland, as argumentative as starving Starly’s every day and every night. Frankly, Volo doesn’t get the whole dispute. Each clan has territory of their own to lord over. Each clan has ideals that stick to that territory. Unlike his guild, who cares for little else but the information they can buy and the wares they can sell, the clans are confined to their arbitrary ideals, stuck in the lore of their land and people in a fit of desperation. Rei and Akari, the two trainers with whom he seems to cross paths with often (and whom he teases with the doting adoration of his own fervent curiosity), have been pulled into this fighting, picking sides of their own. Rei believes firmly in the ideals of the Diamond Clan, valuing the time he has left to live after a close encounter with Lord Kleavor. Akari, on the other hand, believes in the respecting of the land that has given her the blessing to savor the sights of a world that has yet to change any further. And Volo, who is fond of them both, can do nothing but nod his head to their ambitions, careless to their beliefs but respecting of their decisions.