Ankyra Sound you're my pika girl in the poke world, oh i won the gym badge but you won my heart

just for reference, he would def make this sound https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFuBxzGSNYY

in light of Nyx’s overall malaise, Lycaon often found himself loitering curiously in proximity to the grotto. prior to the nativity of the fearsome four, he’d never once encountered the early stages of their ilk, and the preoccupation of that novelty had long drawn him from his lure to the golden minx. 

to his torment, he was rarely invited inside to witness the evolution of fiends and, out of respect, did not insist upon creepily sitting in the corner of Caiaphas' ward as an audience to her laid-bare, engorged rutabagas. he may have pleaded his case as a nursemaid but alas, he had no sentient tits with which to aid her. his resume, or lack thereof, made him woefully underqualified for such a job. 

even so, that didn’t stop him from strolling super casual-like by the grotto mouth every ten or twenty minutes to listen for any scritching, or maybe a humble plea from Caiaphas to supervise while she slipped out to attend an aquarobics class or something. ”did you call me?” he would pop his head through the threshold, scraping for conversation after detecting the most hushed of rustlings within—like a cubscout desperate to feel useful to his troop scoutmaster on camp-out night. ”no? thought heard you ask for something. okay, just checking in. keep up the great work.” then, hurriedly dismissing himself, he set to resuming scuffing rocks around the entrance with boredom.

to his delight, persistence paid off, and after days of his milling around like a goddamn louse, Caiaphas emerged and requested his supervision over the little angels (likely motivated by pity, assuming pity was an emotional state she possessed). Lycaon pretended to mull it over, hemming and hawing, like maybe he had better stuff to do.. but ultimately and oh-so-modestly, he agreed to “help her out, since she insisted”. 

on the inside, he was a confetti bazooka triggered by elation. Lycaon flew into the lair and set to the task of baby minding, giddily laying beside the loafs with the expectation that they would soon regale him with entertainment and engagement. 

well, after about ten minutes of watching them saw logs like the little deadbeats they were, Lycaon came to a troubling conclusion––

––what the frick. infants are so BORING. eyelids growing heavy, the fair-headed boy was on the verge of nodding off when a kvetching alarm jolted his body wide awake. what an invigorating method of activating ones sympathetic nerovus system! startled and now thoroughly roused, Lycaon performed a disorganized headcount and counted five.. wait, six? how many were there again? they all looked the same, goddamn it.

after some canvassing, he appraised the source of the mayday—little Rhakios’ shrill refrain was the one to grace his ears. and what mellifluous vocals they were. unsure how to proceed, Lycaon shuffled on his elbows closer to the hump-dumpling until they were up close and personal. ”what’s all the hubbub, bub? ya—“ his eyes gravitated to the insect scaling the pup’s topside and horror gripped Lycaon’s sensibilities like a vice. “––EEH HEU HEUAUHU.” he shrieked, a sound not much different from the trumpet Rhakios’ lungs begot.  luckily for him, all witnesses to such an emasculating display of bravura were deaf and remained peacefully asleep and not a soul stirred. except his. his soul was, like, climbing the walls as he ricocheted backwards with dismay.

the little guy was obviously agitated by the beetle’s rude use of him as a mount and Lycaon couldn’t just let his baby bro suffer like that; so, summoning the courage of a man he should have already been, Lycaon eased back into his position alongside Rhakios and plucked the nuisance from the darkened dome upon which it wriggled, banishing it to the dim passages with a whisk of his muzzle. a shudder ran the length of his hackles to his tailtip. 

”don’t worry, i got it.” he reassured unlistening ears. outstretching a pale limb, Lycaon righted the infant and drew him into tilde of his wrist, cradling him between his legs and intrusively began inspecting the babe with cold prods of his nose, snuffling each tiny toe-bean. ”mmm.. no mortal wounds… i reckon you’re gonna pull through.”