A Picnic of Music

It was early in the morning. Sinclair had heard the news from Professor Blackthorn that the Sylvangloam seemed to be acting up. The Professor had suggested that trainers help out the Sylvangloam by travelling to it so they could sing to the plants. Sing, or play music – any sort of sound seemed to soothe the strange pain the forest was into, and it seemed to welcome those who brought this gift of music with them.

It had never truly been a place of interest for his father’s company, but Sinclair had received a message not long after hearing the news that he would need to travel there. His dad’s email had been rather vague and non-descriptive. Nobody could settle into the Sylvangloam, so surely, he didn’t want Sinclair to scout it for that. Did he just want the company to look good, then? To participate in the movement to help and preserve the Sylvangloam? That sort of passive participation did help in increasing the good name of the company.

And truth be told, Sinclair was almost looking forward to it. The Sylvangloam had brought him a certain Pokémon that had truly changed his life. He hadn’t felt much when the Minccino and Ghastly fusion had approached him, but it took little time for the two of them to form a connection. Since then, the Minccino – lovingly called Drury Lane – had stuck around with Sinclair and helped him soothe his torments by allowing him to literally detach his soul from his physical body. That out-of-body experience allowed him to forget his responsibilities and constraints for just a bit.

So it was soothing to think that he could go back to the place where they met, and almost with the purpose of thanking it for bringing Drury into his life. Yes, looking at it like that, he was almost excited to go.

He got his whole team ready. Drury was relaxing as Sinclair got ready; Evergreen did much of the same, packing up some things and making sure everything was in order. Silverthorn was staring at the group, a can of Soda Pop in fin. He wasn’t going to this kind of strange picnic without his primary drink of choice. And Sinclair never dared to stop him: taking that can away would result in a loud, unstoppable temper tantrum. Silverthorn was a fighting Pokémon bred specifically for that purpose, so he was very obedient – terrifyingly so, almost. But Soda Pop was the one thing that crushed all his disciplinary barriers to dust. And all things considered, Sinclair could allow him that one guilty pleasure, because Silverthorn otherwise always did his job to perfection.

Once the group was ready to go, they left the house with all their bags. Sinclair had brought a few things, just to be safe. That included a few snacks for the Pokémon in case they got hungry. Moody Pokémon crying out at him would certainly not please the Sylvangloam, he assumed. He would be playing music through his holopad, of course, but having his Pokémon join in would also help.

As they neared the Sylvangloam, trainers pooled in and out of the strange forest. Even right outside, songs of voices and music both could be heard as faint humming through the trees. And the more they went in, the more music they got to hear. Some were upbeat, some were gentle. Some creative ones played ASMR or white noise, which definitely added a whole new layer to the atmosphere of the place. Sinclair had some music in mind, but this certainly gave him a few more. The library of music was limitless, so to speak – he would manage to find something that would particularly please the Sylvangloam, or so he hoped.

They eventually found a nice, quiet spot. Sinclair was reserved: he preferred to do things on his own, and where others wouldn’t see him. His Pokémon were excited at the prospect of a small clearing for them to sing and run through. Right away, Drury and Evergreen found spots where they could swing by the trees or check out the mushrooms. Silverthorn stood closer to Sinclair, as he liked to do. His purpose was to protect him, not to sing to the Sylvangloam. That was fine, though. There were still wild Pokémon in this place, so his diligence was appreciated as Sinclair settled down and started to focus on his holopad and the endless list of songs he could pick for the forest.

To start, he opted for some gentle classical-style music. He settled in, raised the volume up, and he enjoyed the atmosphere. In that moment, he remembered how he had felt back then, when he had come here to merge with his Nera. It had been a hard journey, living in conjunction with what was essentially the essence of a Pokémon inside of his own soul. But…sitting here, in the Sylvangloam, away from it all, listening to music: in that moment, it felt like things would be okay.