Rite of the What?

   There was no doubt the Wintervale cold was its most harsh when the days were darker. A few hours of sunlight didn’t warm up a thing, not that Wintervale even seemed to be free of snow anyway. Sparks was always hidden away underground in his little warm, cosy den. He preferred it that way. The guy was unable to retain heat, and he was from Brookfell... So it was like living in a freezer. Sometimes he questioned his choice of location.
   Viggo often dragged him out from his tech cave, but for once he found himself up on the Wintervale surface without him. A blessing in disguise - or not disguised at all probably. Sparks was wrapped in layers and layers, but most importantly a thick parka with a big furry hood that he pulled all the way up. It kept his ears warm, and the white-blonde tufts of his dyed hair peeked out the front in the wind. To no one's surprise, the coat had an embroidered pikachu on the back.

   Sparks didn’t know much of Wintervale’s culture, but he was a curious person. Toddling along at his side was a Snivy/Elekid fusion. Tang had been Sparks’ little partner since he was just a kid, and he’d picked up the Pokemon just as an Elekid. The Snivy fusion came later, but it changed nothing about their relationship. Tang was just as happy and confident as before.
As the two of them wandered the Wintervale streets they gandered at the decorations on the buildings, all of the special advertisements… People were everywhere. Wintervale often felt like a sleepy city where people would grunt if you crossed them funny, but this seemed different. There was definitely some sense of community. Bowing to one another, some mutual respect. If Sparks saw Viggo being so nice he would have taken a photo to make it last forever.

   Bonfires roared, set up on blocked off streets specifically for the Rite. Sparks didn’t get it, were they just celebrating fire? He jumped as a hand clapped hard on his shoulder - and he jumped so much the hood on his jacket flew back, his ears practically flying out. As he turned he met Viggo’s gaze - and much to his confusion, the man was certainly very blue, the flame on his head flickering warmly as always.
   “Not like you to roam around like a lost pup, Caleb.”
   “M–Mr de Jager! You scared the shit out of me!!” Sparks breathed in relief, hand to his chest. Thank god it wasn’t the cops - that always frightened him. That they’d just up and grab him. His eyes wandered across the large, floating Centiskorch fusion at Viggo’s side. The beast nodded to Tang in greeting, and the Elekid fusion chirped back in turn.
   “Wh– Your suppressor? Did you bust it?”
   “What? No. Don’t be stupid.” He slapped the shorter man over the head whilst he wasn’t protected by the parka. “This is just more acceptable during the Rite.”
   “The Rite?” Sparks asked. Viggo nodded. Maybe he’d find out what all of this was about after all.
   “You really do live under a rock, don’t you? The Rite. The Rite of the Sun? Surely, even you aren’t so naive. It’s a festival. The city brightens up a bit, to celebrate the end of a harsh, dark winter. It’s… More complicated than that, obviously, but for the sake of your peanut brain...” Viggo smirked, tucking his hands back into his trouser pockets. Sparks narrowed his eyes, like he was just more confused.
   “So… You’re blue because…?”
   “No. It’s a ritual of warmth and light. Less about the blue, more about the fire.”
   “OH!”
Viggo took a deep breath as Sparks caught on.
   “That makes sense.. I wondered why there were litwick dancing and stuff. Bit weird, like.. It’s a bit different than Brookfell. Less… Violent.” Sparks grimaced. “What are you doing out with Helios though?”
   “Helios misses the warmth of Ethermoor often. With all of the bonfires the air is better for him, and the warmth I guess.” Viggo shrugged, running a hand along the flat plates on Helios as the Pokemon grumbled in delight. Sparks nodded in acknowledgement.
   “I feel like I should’ve google’d this before I came out…”
   “I feel like you should have too.” Viggo snerked, urging the little Yamper man forward with his knee. Sparks pulled his hood back up, shivering in the cold air. To him, the city was just as cold as always - bonfires or not.
   “Can I just.. Hang out with you then, Mr de Jager? Do something.. Festival-y together maybe?”
   “That sounds terrible.”
   “Oh. Okay.”

[Word Count: 770]