The pillar plan fell through pretty quickly but at least Z.’s contribution worked out just as intended, so things were going pretty well, all things considered. They even got some laughs and a few extra contributions to the Clobbopus Pun Fund. Even the (ex-)mods desperately trying to hold things together couldn’t help but chuckle along. Any further wisecracks were cut short, though, by two things happening, the first being Hector/Newie/whatever they were supposed to call the Falinks doing some sort of acrobatic trick that was only 83% successful (and, looking at the Newies who did land on the pillar, probably even less than that), which, frankly, shifted all the attention from one mostly-helpless Pokémon to another, and the second being Clobbopus peeling himself off the pillar, rendering, like, half of Z.’s remaining jokes moot anyway.
Only half, though. “Oh, don’t be such a sourpus,” Z. said as they slid down the pillar and back down to the ground. They stumbled a bit on the landing, probably a consequence of a new body and misjudging exactly the scope of what they’d been trying to do, but nothing worth drawing attention to themselves over. “Ol’ Spark Plug over there didn’t say it was a bust, she said there wasn’t anywhere to go. And that’s only mostly right anyway, there’s just a big ass-locked door in the way of all the other interesting stuff.”
Ex-moderator Appletun the Chespin seemed to agree as well, going on about how it wasn’t actually a failed endeavor, which Z. appreciated -- “See, even the mods agree with me for once,” they said -- though then Appletun started waxing lyrical about the value of teamwork or whatever, which Z. immediately tuned out. “I mean, I even said I could be wrong,” they said instead. “I was like, ‘If I’m going the wrong way, sucks, but then at least we’ll know.’”
A weird feeling hit them, just then. It kind of felt like, when their mental image of themselves shifted to the past version of them, so did their presentation, even though, obviously, the only thing that would have realistically changed was that past Z. was still dripping after their swim. It only took a second or two to figure out what it was, though. “Right, Zorua can do that.”
A wry smile crossed Z.’s face as they realized the possibilities of such an ability, but, when they focused on Clobbopus, the only new sensation that they got was that something came out wrong. Maybe it was the color, maybe it was the texture and not accounting for the light, the point was, whatever it was, Z. dismissed it quickly their face turned to a hard grimace. Fuck, they hated being bad at stuff! And yet, again, the best way to deal with it right that second was to ignore it. As Es had said, Z. had to keep moving, so they just grit their teeth, mumbled, “Something to work on, I guess,” and did exactly that -- they moved on to the room’s other exit.
The other room was pretty similar to the room Z. and Es had explored. It was similar in shape, for example, and there was water encircling a wall that itself encircled a landmark clearly demarking the place as more artificial and ruinous than naturally cavernous, though the water stretched out further than simply acting as a moat around a locked door, and, for that matter, there wasn’t a locked door at all. There were stairs where the door would be instead, ones stretching upwards into a now-customary inky blackness. “Ftairs! We have found ftairs!” Z. said, half remembering an old reference they’d made on the forum, and half actually calling back to everyone else, but, again, they never stopped moving.