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In the vacuum of space, a girl drifts.
She's gotten over the panicking at this point; she doesn't seem to be running out of air or freezing or burning to death right now. But she is very very lost, and doesn't remember where she came from
There isn't really much to do except look at the stars. Her clamshell's gone flat and it's not like she gets the Archive in space.
"Cool! That sounds fun to have." She wiggles a little, some distant part of her psychobiome pinging at the word teaching.
She tilts her head. "Are there any other funky senses? What do ghost type humans get?"
"Shadows, and sometimes a sense for whether a place has seen death!" She bounces excitedly. "Poison gets an intuition about stuff that is or can be mixed to be toxic. Ground has soil stability and erosion, usually. Steel has a knack for metalsmithing. Grass has a great sense for helping plants grow. Flying can do air currents. Types are really cool."
"Yeah, for sure! I don't think we had them back on my world. I wonder if Arceus gave me one or not."
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