...?!

Numbness…

All consuming. Everlasting…

Small glimpses of moonlight that manage to evade the splotches that dot your vision are the only indicator that you're still there.

Physically anyway..

Your mind is fried, still awash with sap induced arousal that a drained body cannot hope to keep up with. From what little external input that reaches your senses, you gather that the tendrils have ceased their lurid play. It is unclear if this small mercy is due to the ravenous tentacles finally drinking their fill, or if they are simply allowing your aching orbs to recover before another round…

What is certain is that your limbs are still bound; arms wrapped behind your back, legs **** to kneel, spread and allowing for easy access. The will to struggle against the fleshy bindings was lost hours ago, though it likely wouldn't matter at this point. There is nothing left in the tank. No energy to resist, no hopes of escape…

Just a stupid Sneasel, once filled with delusions of heroism or even redemption, hanging limp in the clutches of a cold, unfeeling predator that would make a meal of him upon waking…

Which, by your hazy deduction, wouldn't be too much longer. Even now the first, lonely calls of bird song begin to usher in the coming dawn. The air stirs as gentle wind carries the warmth of a new day through your fur, marred and matted with sweat and other less savory substances. It is a small comfort to know that you would feel the sun's brilliance once more before the end. It's a heartening thought and coupled with the numbing agent coursing through you, that end might not even hurt. Like being wrapped in a tight, soggy blanket as the world, with all its perils and pains, fades into a peaceful, much deserved sleep…

Maybe it won't even be that bad.. Maybe-

“You done with that?”

The words are nearly lost in the miasma of hazy heartbeats drumming your ears to a choir of your inner voices’ self pity. The causal bluntness of the question sticks in your mind, though, irritability obtuse and demanding of your scattered attention. It is a monumental effort to drag your lids open and when euphoric fog is blinked from your vision you are met only by a singular vine swaying a few inches from your face..

..and now I'm hearing voices.

The dreary thought comes in the form of a wet gurgle around the tendril laying dormant in your maw. Just another vine to hasten your pitiful end.. easily ignored in contrast to the grand scale of growing concerns. Harder to ignore is the sharp whistle that pierces through the gloom. You've only just begun to register the sharp note when aforementioned ‘swaying vine’ graces you with a firm *Bap* across the forehead.

“Sneasel, you done?”

Heavy as they are, your eyelids snap open as dilated eyes search frantically for the source of what can no longer be dismissed as mere illusion. Through manic blinks to shoo away the tears, your focus finally settles on a dark figure to your right. Your hours of torment make it hard to pick out the finer details, leaving the speaker’s identity shrouded for the time being. What is clear is that they seem to be… floating next to your flowery prison..? No, not floating, you realize as you trace the vine that smacked you back to its master and the one who addresses you now. It emerges from their back, just as its twin dangles from the branches above, supporting the inverted pokemon that hangs upside-down from on high. Through the last of the spots that cling to your vision, the form of a slender, lime-green gecko looms suspended from its considerably deeper green tail.

“Ah, you’re not completely broken. That’ll make this easier.”

Something about the casualness of his tone, the utter lack of consideration for your plight or more pressingly, the feral that snoozes below, annoys you. It is different from the frustratingly pompous vibe you’d gotten from Arro, though it’s not as directly insulting as the condescension received from the owl. It’s something else entirely. Something far more irksome…

And as waves of realization wash over you once more… Far more familiar.

The last bits fall into place when you spy the spiky, purple flower bobbing from his maw with the occasional chew. This is the same odd stranger that had snuck up to disturb you mid meal little more than a week prior, nearly startling you from the tree you sat in. His kind was known as Treecko, if you could trust your distant dealings with wandering tradesmen before this had all started. Not that any of this mattered more than the chance it presented to a condemned man such as yourself. Before you could even begin to beg through your fleshy gag, the man invites himself into your humble holding cell, a graceful flip bringing him close. The lizard's landing is more akin to the falling of a feather than the man's size would suggest, lending some insight as to how he was so easily able to catch you unawares last week…

So in awe of the recklessness of the geckos' actions, leaping right into certain doom should the Venusaur’s tendrils catch him, that you can do naught but gawk wide-eyed as he goes to kneel before you. You wince as he lays a hand upon the tentacle blocking your maw, the villainous vine that had spent the evening silencing your cries and feeding you an endless supply of numbing sap. A slight grin is cracked at your reaction before he shrugs away your questioning stare.

“Just gotta know how to handle ‘em.” He replies, no attempts to whisper his words.

The answer leaves you even more confused, flabbergasted that he seemed totally incapable of disturbing the no doubt sensitive plant flesh all around him. Your confusion lasts only as long as it takes for you to spot his neck wrapped vines wrapping the feral’s own darker green tendril in a soft caress, before it begins to gently tug. The sensation of having the wriggling, sap slickened appendage drawn from your throat brought on an irritation that you only barely contain, managing to suppress the desire to gag. Before you know it, the vine is gone and away, wrapped completely in the Treeckos own tentacle, With the last foot or so held in the man's palm.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll only be a sec.”

After a few ragged breaths of unfiltered air, you manage to find your voice… before it is unexpectedly shoved right back into your throat by the lizard's free vine.

“Mmmuuuaaahh..?!” Is all you manage around the smaller but no less obstructing appendage as it wiggles deep enough to silence you once more. Your shocked expression only receives a singular “Hush” in response, leaving you more annoyed than ever. Unimpressed or simply uncaring of your issue, he goes back to the plant flesh held in his grasp, kneading it in his hands. Your grunts and growls following the man's unwarranted invasion of your mouth and subsequent disregard for your plight finally get the rude reptile to pay you more attention than the vine he’s fiddling with. With an annoyed sigh of his own he turns abruptly and lock eyes with your scowl.

“If I let that tongue loose, you promise to keep it quick and quiet?” The question has its own dose of irritation, as if YOUR the one bothering HIM for daring to ask for help. You stamp down the growing frustration, refusing to lose your one chance to be free of this damned feral. A slow nod is all you give his annoying question and thankfully, it seems to be enough with the slim vine leaving you to cough at the rough extraction. When you are able to calm yourself once more the Treecko is already back at work, pawing at the feral’s vine he’d only just removed. Seeing no explanation forthcoming for any of this ridiculousness, you discreetly speak.

“How are you doing this?” There is no response from the slim Pokemon as he continues toying with his prize. You try once more.

“The Venusaur, I mean.. How did you keep from waking him up??”

“Not talking tends to help.” Comes the terse reply. When you clarify that your question was directed at the feral’s vines, he again shrugs, only offering that he just ‘has a way of talking their language’. Seeing no proper answer on the horizon, you change gears and decide to speak of the most pressing matter.

“Don’t you think you should deal with the other vines, too? I mean, I appreciate the rescue and all but-”

“Rescue? Heh, I think you’ve got the wrong impression, cat.” Your words catch on that, leaving your face the very picture of dumbfounded. Taking the gap in the conversation for himself, he continues, “I’m here for this.” A trio of thick fingers rise, bringing the Venusaur's twitching vine into view. Ignoring your stunned stammering, the Treecko begins to stroke at the grasped tentacle, one hand restraining it as the other rubs along its shaft, occasionally squeezing as it nears the tip.

“I’m sure you’re well informed about what these little guys produce by now. The sap’s hard to come by and is only ever able to be harvested after the big man down below snags some poor snack.” A grin spreads his lips as he thanks you for playing the part. Before you can retort, his attention turns back to his work, seeing that the tentacle is almost ready. You watch as he slips a hand behind his back, likely to some unseen bag or satchel, before returning with a dried gourd husk. Without much of a warning, the vine spurts its pale red sap into the waiting container held by your curious companion. Morbid curiosity keeps your lips shut as the bizarrely sensual scene plays out before you. The gourd fills quickly and is pulled away just as the sticky substance crests its rim, the vines gushing the rest of its brew into the flower below. The Treecko corks the gourd with a cloth and stands all in one quick motion before offering a wave.

“It’s been fun. I’ll leave you to it.” Without another word, you’re left in an instant as a quick throw and subsequent anchored vine provide the lizard a path to the canopy. He’s half way over the rim of the massive pink petal before your stupefied nerves return control to your brain.

“W-wait!! Please! You have to help me!” The fear of once again being left to the doom this feral had planned for you removes any semblance of dignity from your voice. You must have sounded quite pitiful, as the Treecko halts his accent to hang over the edge of the flower from his vine, still facing away.

“I thought you didn’t like the company of strangers…” There is a stillness in his tone now. There is no venom nor judgment to be found as he speaks his mind, though the hard truth of his statement requires neither to make them bite at your conscience. “Isn’t that what you told me, Sneasel?”

Ahh shit…

The silence grows long and awkward before you know how to respond. He turns his head slightly, allowing one eye to cast its emerald green glow over his shoulder down upon you. Picking your words carefully, you open your mouth.

“I apologize for my careless words when we last spoke. I was not expecting anyone else and you startled me. I… I overreacted.” He watches your prostration closely, possibly searching for the slightest hint of a lie so he could abandon this foolish cat with a clear conscience. There was no room for ego here. “I was taken off guard and when I learned how easily you’d done so, I masked my embarrassment with anger… That wasn’t fair.”

A quiet “Hmph” is the only reply immediately forthcoming from the stoic fellow. A few moments pass with your heart in your throat, that singular eye rolling over your bound form. The man's shoulders hitch up in a small shrug before he suddenly drops, spinning as he goes to plop his rear upon the petals curvature, coming to rest a barely more than arms length opposite you.

“Alright then.” Comes the calm response and, without any indication of what the lizard has planned, he simply raises one leg to bring his right hindpaw just inches from your bewildered face.

“Convince me. Kiss it.”

To say you’re caught off guard by this gesture would be underselling it by a wide margin. Aside from a furrowed brow at the audacious display. It takes a moment to collect your scattered thoughts, dragging your shocked eyes away from the digits hanging before them to then cast them upon the confounding reptile. He sits there, unmoving with an almost bored expression on his face, apparently deriving less satisfaction from this than even yourself. At last your words come back to you.

“Wha-what is this??”

You again receive only a shrug in response, with the Treecko waiting quietly to see how you react. Perhaps he didn’t want simple words to appease his fragile ego, you thought, assuming the vain gecko wanted your humiliation on top of it all. You weren’t ready to stoop that low just yet, however…

“I already apologized..! You don’t need me to-”

“This has nothing to do with what I need, friend.”

You are cut off harshly, a bit of tension finally seeping into the man’s tone. The annoyance is clear in his eyes now, you having somehow offended by daring to suggest this was mere petty reprisal on his part. He scoffs away your confusion before continuing.

“This is about what you’re willing to do in order to get what you want, in this case, a second chance. Prove to me that you are worth the effort of saving and that you won’t just wander into another maw the moment you’re free.”

Is this guy serious..?!

You aren’t sure if you should be more insulted by the depraved act he’s requesting you perform or the insinuation that you’d be so careless with your life after all you’ve overcome thus far. How could he make such a wild assumption about you only having known you for mere moments? Who does he think he is?! Anger threatens to boil over the more you think of his request. In all likelihood this could just be a lie, one last jab to further embarrass you before leaving you to your gurgly fate. On the other hand, you can’t think of another way to be rid of these damned vines and with the sunrise rapidly approaching your window of opportunity is closing fast. Would you be willing to debase yourself for a chance at freedom?