The Question

The Question Part of Arc 2 ← Event 6 Event 6.2 → Release Date July 19, 2012 End Date August 15, 2012 Author(s) PurpleKecleon Illustrator(s) PurpleKecleon Links All 8 parts

A series of loud thuds on the door, jarring PK out of a peaceful sleep. Great.

She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead at her desk. Light was making its way in from the window, but not a whole lot. It was maybe... 6am? Who the hell was bugging her this early? It was supposed to be a day she could sleep in, it wasn’t like every other day--

Another few thuds. “PK, you promised you’d go today. You can’t put this off any longer! Please, get ready and let’s go, all right? PK? I already told them you’d be coming!” spoke the Peaceful Sleep Assailant.

She groaned. She had forgotten, but it was coming back to her quickly. “Just a sec,” she croaked at the door, her morning voice still caught in her throat. She’d definitely need a cup of water; her tongue felt dry and papery. It was kind of gross. No matter: she would be ready in a moment, even if the thought of her chore for the day bored her to tears. Now that the village was done being built, she was unable to find any more excuses to delay the inevitable. There were no more Pokemon doing grand tasks to really manage... it was all just a bunch of planting for that confused little fairy girl. Well, at least that didn’t require a whole lot of supervision anymore. It was giving PK a chance to recuperate from all of the long days and nights that a devastated village had brought with it. Unfortunately, because it didn’t require a whole lot of supervision, Malt was apparently feeling more entitled to PK’s time. This really wouldn’t have been a problem, except she, well..

“PK come on! I told everyone at the ranch we’d all eat breakfast together! They all eat really early if they still do it the same time as before! You don’t want to waste their cooking do you? Come on!” This managed to pull another groan out of PK. She slid out of bed finally, looking back at the sheets longingly for but a moment more, then stretched. First her tail, then her arms (up and down, left and right), and then did a split. It was important to remain limber and alert. She was even more conscious of this after her period of... “deep purpleness,” as she liked to think of it. Black wasn’t a very nice color, so she wouldn’t think of herself as having been such. In any case, she found stretching a nice way to become more aware of your body at the start of the day.

After this quick physical and mental wake-up, she felt ready to go face Malt and see what he had in store for her. She was sure she wouldn’t like it. It was hard: she wanted to be positive, she really did, and that was no lie, but... but she rather disliked ranches. Stories of her father’s ranch put an immensely grotesque and horrid impression in her mind on what such places were like. She was sure that if he had owned Tao Ranch instead of it having started off separately, well, that it would have been run in some similar way as to the ranch of his young adulthood. Even after she was well aware that Tao Ranch was simply not like that, she had avoided it without fail. She always took giant detours around it whenever the situation called for travel near it. It was just not somewhere she wanted to be. It would have been impossible for her to do proper business with them at all had Malt not always visited the village. Her former partner had offered to go to the ranch in her stead, but she much preferred getting to see Malt face to face. It wasn’t for lack of trusting Shroomsworth’s judgment; she simply felt the desire to oversee everything that happened between the village and the ranch.

But that was enough of that. She answered the door to her bedroom, and it had really only been five or so minutes, but Malt’s expression still said that she took too long. Well, whatever.

“PK, you don’t need anything, right? I mean I know you don’t, but I don’t want you to make up an excuse to come back here again and--”

She cut Malt off, tired of him already. “I don’t. I mean, I won’t. Need anything, that is. Let’s just get this over with.” Even if he was perfectly justified in thinking she would try to wriggle her way out of her obligation, she hated it regardless.

They silently made their way down the stairs leading to the main corridor and exited the hut. PK would have griped that no one competent was running the place, that they could be robbed, and so on and so on, but Malt had specifically secured a few of the teams PK trusted at all to run the main shop (and even the stall outside). She was certain he had handpicked only the teams on the very best of terms with her. This was agitating. She had been robbed of the only complaint she could think of. It seemed, unfortunately, that Malt had thought ahead quite a bit for this particular date.

PK trailed slowly behind Malt as he made his way over the footbridge and to the ranch portion of the village. It was, in truth, a mile or so away from the village still, and that was pushing the limits of her comfort zone. As they got closer, her heart started to pick up the pace. She felt a little faint upon reaching the main entrance. A good look at the setup should have put her at ease, but it did not.

Malt tried to push back his thoughts for the duration of their trip, but it seemed he’d had enough of the silence... and apparently also of whatever expression PK didn’t realize she was making. “Come on... You look like we just arrived at a, a torture camp or something. PK... you can’t be grimacing like that the whole time, you’ll make a really bad first impression on these guys... We’re supposed to be a whole unit now, and you haven’t even met a good nine-tenths of the ranch populace! You need to--”

“Yeah yeah, save the spiel. I’ll smile or whatever.” She grinned. Malt cringed and shook his head. Well, so much for that.

Along the way to the first building, they passed several rows of tiny trees. PK recognized them as the berry saplings they were. That was nice, at least. She even saw the Payapa berry bushes she specifically requested. Even better. Past that, she saw a little pond with a few Ducklett and Psyduck lazily floating about. Did those guys do anything for the place? Were they workers? Maybe they provided eggs? She wasn’t all too sure. Maybe they were freeloaders, for all she knew.

It was exactly for that reason, for her lack of knowledge, that Malt had continually urged PK to check on the ranch, meet its inhabitants. She really did know next to nothing about how it was run! Only the bare essentials had been gleaned from all of her business with Malt before they joined forces. It was probably a really lousy decision on her part, but it was her resolute decision for over a couple of years nonetheless.

It was looking to have been a poor decision on all accounts, though. Even if the ranch stressed her out for no real reason of its own, she was starting to really, actually see that it was just a normal place where Pokemon lived and worked. The houses were mostly the Pokemon-head motif, but there were some more practically shaped buildings, which she guessed held most of the supplies. The two Merchants were making their way toward a plain brown and tan building, so there was no telling who or what lay inside.

Malt pushed open the door, bringing about a little tinkle from the bell. PK followed suit. There was a long table, fully set with dishes and napkins and plain glasses, enough to seat a couple dozen Pokemon at least. She was sure there were more staff than that, but supposed they didn’t all eat together. At first, it seemed that it was merely for show until PK actually took a good whiff. Someone was cooking! Now that she was fully inside and the door was shut, she heard sizzling coming from the other room. Moments after they had stepped in, a Combusken had emerged from a far room.

“Oh! You guys made it a little early, I wasn’t expectin’ you guys for another... hm, I dunno. You’re early anyway. Everyone’ll show up on time if you give ‘em a few minutes,” she said. She seemed genuinely cheerful and pleased to see them both. “I hate to be rude, but I gotta get back to cookin’. It’s good to see you again Malt, and to meet you, Miss PK, but, you know how it is. These eggs can’t cook themselves!” she said with a laugh. She returned to what PK presumed was the kitchen.

“Well, why don’t we sit down?” Malt suggested. “Everyone usually shows up right as the cooking’s finished, so you can meet them as they enter.” He took a seat closest to the entrance door, looking at PK expectantly. She ignored him for a brief moment further, choosing to look around at the austere decor of the place. There was really not much to be seen at all in the plain, white room. No pictures, no china, nothing that a normal dining room might contain... A sad thought overcame her. Why didn’t the place have decoration? It should have; it’s not like Sorbet personally had smashed the previous ranch and all of everyone’s belongings up. Perhaps they had been robbed when they fled? She decided she would ask.

“Why’s this place so uh... modestly... decorated? Do they just not have the money, or...” she asked, trailing off at the possibilities. Best to let Malt just answer.

“Er, this? This is the same sort of room we used to eat together at in the previous place. We kind of like it that way here.” With half-lidded eyes, he placed his elbow on the table and leaned forward a bit, propping his cheek up with his hoof. “You’d have known that if you’d ever visited yourself, you know,” he said flatly. This grated on her nerves.

“Maybe you guys were poor then too! It’s not like I gave a crap what your finances were!” She spun around to face him. “And where are all the suckers, anyway? Why are we even here so early? I could have slept in longer, and you just go and bring me here early. Great!” She pulled out a chair suddenly with enough force to make it scrape loudly against the wood. She took her seat and imitated his semi-bored look, propped cheek and all.

Malt rolled his eyes and was about to speak when PK’s eyes moved to the door. Someone was about to come in, she could hear the commotion. Malt turned to look at their visitor as well. The door opened to reveal a Flygon with a great, big ribbon around her neck, carrying a couple of giant eggs with tiny painted ribbons on the shells to match. For an instant, a spec in time, PK and this visitor locked eyes, leaving PK to feel a very drastic, very distinct pang of intense sadness. She had no idea if the Flygon felt anything in return, only catching the slightest twitch at her mouth. Their strange encounter lasted for such a minute period of time that Malt completely missed the moment of silent grief felt by PK. “Hey Ruben!” he greeted, obviously pleased to see her. “You look well!”

“Oh Malt!” she said, laughing. “You always say that! I’ll talk to you in a bit, Puzelle told me we needed these. They’re special, you know!” she told him before twirling off to the kitchen.

Malt smiled sadly when she left. He turned to PK and whispered once he was sure Ruben was out of earshot. “She’s... got some issues, but we don’t really talk about those. Please, please be polite to her. Don’t ask about her eggs if she says anything funny. She’s really nice though.”

This caused PK to feel a pit form in her stomach. For some reason, she couldn’t imagine ever being very grumpy toward that particular Flygon. It was rare, but something she was sure was the absolute truth. It made her upset to think that Malt was telling her to not act up around someone she had already decided she liked and felt for, but she let it slide. She had one of those rare moments of understanding someone else’s point of view, and knew Malt must have cared about Ruben as much as she suddenly decided that she did, too. This made him a little less detestable. For the time, anyway.

PK was to have another timeless moment of recognition shortly afterward, causing her to all but forget about Ruben for the rest of the day. The door jingled once more. This time, two fruit-filled baskets suspended by two separate vines entered first. Then came their sole owner, a Meganium in a funny little white hat, adorned with a red flower and stripe (though flat, and not the kind that PK wore around her belly).

This fellow was quite pleased to see Malt, smiling in good cheer to accentuate this fact. He spoke with earnest happiness. “Hey! Really glad you could both make it this--” he started, cutting off as his gaze switched to PK. He stared, mouth unable to finish the sentence it had started.

Malt paused for a moment, giving him a chance to continue. He didn’t. “Iceburg? Something wrong?” Malt was confused, trying to figure out what had so raptly stolen the friendly gardener’s attention. Malt followed Iceburg’s vision to... PK. It was then that Malt was overtaken by a bizarre sense that something was going on here that he just wasn’t in on. She was staring back, mouth agape, attention every ounce as stolen away. “PK?” he asked.

This was enough to break her from her trance. “What?” she snapped. “What do you want now, Malt?”

“Er... nothing. You two know each other?” he asked.

Iceburg, normally a happy and open guy, suddenly gained an extremely timid posture. He seemed to have shrunk into himself. Malt wondered if something had gone wrong during one of the rare times Iceburg ventured to the village.

“Nope,” she snorted. “Don’t got a clue who this guy is. He’s got a dopey name for a grass Pokemon though, don’tcha think?” She closed her eyes and reclined, as if Iceburg wasn’t there at all. Malt found it incredibly rude, and was already partially starting to regret having PK visit the ranch. He was rather tired of her running her mouth and no one saying a thing.

“Well, it’s not like your own name is incredibly creative,” he said dully. “Payapa Kiwi? Really?”

“Shut up! Shut the hell up. Don’t bring that up again or I’ll... I’ll brand your ass,” she said quite seriously. Malt wasn’t sure if it was a bluff or not and sighed in response.

He turned to apologize to Iceburg, but instead found himself deciding perhaps he ought to ask if Iceburg was feeling well. The poor Meganium looked pale and faint, and even his knees had begun to wobble. What a sight he had become! “Hey... hey, what’s going on? You all right, buddy?”

Iceburg turned to Malt. Faint recognition gleamed in Iceburg’s eyes. He opened his mouth, as if to voice whatever ghastly thought had overcome him, but thought better of it. He turned and left the building and the door jingled shut. PK placed her feet on the table and reclined further, rocking the chair slowly on two legs. She finally opened her eyes to look at Malt again. “Sounds like the guy pussied out of breakfast. Speaking of, when’s it gonna be ready?”

Thoroughly baffled at the whole experience, Malt was dumbfounded. He wanted to ask what the hell had just happened, but didn’t really know how to go about that. He didn’t at all know how to even address it. Perhaps it was nothing, and his mind made a connection where there had been none. Weirder things had happened, he guessed.

In reality, Malt wasn’t satisfied with knowing nothing, but his confusion was interrupted by yet another Pokemon entering the building. Puzelle hadn’t been kidding when she said Pokemon would start showing up. This time, it was a great big... bug. PK’s first reaction was that she wanted to smash it, and she knew it was a pretty awful reaction to have toward employees. It was twice as big as she was, partially incurring that immediate response in her head.

“Oh! You’re Clover, right?” Malt asked.

A droning voice answered, giving PK the creeps. “Yes. You are Malt, correct? Ovaltine told us about you.” The giant, yellow... thing... turned to face PK. “And you are... ah, forgive us, we are not the best with names. Who are you, again?”

Though her interest had been piqued for a second there, PK hardly wanted to talk, but found it inevitable. She was just going to have to deal, for the time being. “Uh, PK. You can just call me that. Just PK.” She was sure disgust would crawl all over her face if the thing kept talking to her, and then what? Would it take offense? Try to pull some hideous move? Her mind ran wild with thousands of disgusting bug-related horror scenarios before it spoke again.

“It is my pleasure to meet you both. I actually wanted to tell Puzelle a couple of things about the honey out back, so I will not be joining breakfast this morning. I believe my partner will be, though.” Still that almost echoing voice, like the voice of a thousand Beedrill--

Oh ugh, the species dawned on her after she made the connection. It-- no, more accurately she-- was a Vespiquen and was good at providing lots of honey. Which was to say, lots of money. PK finally managed to recall that much. They were sort of a rare sight. You might see Combees flying around, pollinating flowers... but one of these? They were usually hiding out in a big old tree somewhere. For good reason. They were creepy as hell, and not often met without a little hostility.

“No problem at all. We’ll be here for a lot of the day, so I’m sure we can find some time to visit you while you work!” Malt said. PK wished to groan in response to this (among other things), but Clover’s mere presence was making PK extremely uneasy. She found herself remaining polite, if only because she was too bothered to respond.

Clover swept past them and made her way into the kitchen. PK could still feel that incredibly thick presence from her spot in the dining room, and waited until the horrendously large bug had made its exit to exhale her relief.

“Oh come, she’s not that bad,” Malt (attempted to) assert.

“Bullshit. She’s really freaky and you know it.” PK crossed her arms, as if this posture would leave no room for debate.

“She’s actually really nice, from what I hear. And from what I’ve seen. There’s no reason to be nervous... though I really do understand. But you just need to set your feelings aside for once, all right? I know you think they’re super important and all, but... you have to think about these things too sometimes. She can’t help how she is, and you might be passing up knowing someone really nice just because of that!”

PK sighed. Thoroughly bored with the direction Malt was taking the discussion, she feigned sleeping in her chair. Malt was not very impressed, but that hardly mattered to her. Malt couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to resist the urge to smack down a natural enemy.

Eventually more of the farmhands started showing up and sitting around the table, and Malt introduced all of the ones he knew to PK. There were only a couple that he hadn’t met himself yet, only the newer recruits who had come in after the place had been rebuilt. It was mostly the old staff coming in for breakfast. Malt wondered when his sister might show up, and found it odd that Iceburg had not yet returned. Iceburg and Ovaltine usually showed up together though, so he surmised that they might both have had some chore to take care of first. Ah well. Sometimes that was the case, and he’d just wait to see them until later if they failed to show. It wasn’t PK was going to up and leave during their breakfast or anything.

It was a fine breakfast, even by PK’s standards. Puzelle cooked up a whole array of foods, catering to each of the specific tastes dining that morning. Berry syrups for pancakes, eggs cooked in a manner of ways (poached, over easy, scrambled), bread with honey and butter, big glass bottles of milk... among other things. It was delicious, and this was nice. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the dinners she’d been out to recently, but it was still a quality experience.

Unfortunately, some of the workers didn’t show up for the meal (Ruben was cleaning up the kitchen the whole time, and Iceburg never returned). This was no matter, Malt said, as they would simply meet the rest out in the field. So, he and PK excused themselves when they had finished eating and chatting and went to survey the rest of the ranch.

After the two visitors had left, Ruben poked her head in from the kitchen. Puzelle caught her goofy gaze (when did Ruben not wear such a thing?) and went after her.

“I remembered this long series of dreams I kept meaning to tell you about but would forget before I had the chance,” Ruben stated excitedly. She reached the sink and began filling it with water from their newly installed tap, then looked back over her shoulder to assess Puzelle’s expression.

Puzelle brought in the last of the dishes and placed them neatly on the counter, hardly with a clink even. “Oh? The ones you keep forgetting about the, you know, the place... or was that something else?”

“Oh! This was uh, well, yeah it was there. But it was different! This is different. These dreams feel like, um, you know! Different!”

Ruben was clearly having problems expressing herself, but Puzelle was ever patient. “Well, why don’t you start off by telling me what was different? What made you remember them?”

“W-well, I remembered when I met PK! I mean, she made me remember. Er, seeing her made me remember, is what I meant.” Ruben seemed a bit anxious, but was always happy to share things with her best friend. Puzelle had a gentle way of coaxing Ruben to talk more and feel less nervous, so they made a very nice match. She was never too hard on Ruben, who’d been through much.

How much? Well, she had lived in Prismatic Jungle for much of her life under the rule of Tivoli. She kept the big ribbon around her neck as proof she had survived it all. It was a harsh existence, and Ruben had endured stresses that many Pokemon in Tao wouldn’t ever know. Puzelle knew, though, and that was enough. Most of Ruben’s dreams were often implied to have taken place in the jungle, though she never called it such. Puzelle understood this.

“When you met PK, huh? She’s a character, isn’t she?” Puzelle said, grinning. She started to sort the dishes that Ruben had already washed in the short span of time.

“Yeah but, I mean, well, I looked in the lake, right? And I saw PK!” Ruben declared, as if this would reveal everything to Puzelle.

“So... as your reflection? So you were her?”

“Well, no, no not really... oh, I don’t know. I mean I looked like her, I think. And it was that place, but it wasn’t now. It was some other time.”

“Oh. Did anything else happen?”

Ruben paused in the middle of washing a particularly syrupy plate and closed her eyes. “Hmm... well, I... there’s always snippets, and it always ends poorly. Actually, you know what...” Ruben reopened her eyes and looked sidelong at Puzelle. Her expression turned unbearably tragic. “I don’t really feel like talking about my dreams anymore.”

“It’s all right. We don’t have to if you wouldn’t really like to.” Puzelle gave a moment for Ruben to silently reflect before changing the topic. “You know, everyone loved the eggs today.”

This worked in cheering up the forlorn Flygon in a jiffy. “Did they? I’m so glad, so glad! I love them, I love them so! So I’m so, so glad they loved them too!”

The day had barely made itself known, and already it was too long. For PK, anyway. She was tired of walking along the ranch, tuning out Malt’s endless talks about the land and the plants and who worked where and what their names were... she hardly cared. She already had a lot of merchants to manage, and really, she had forgotten most of their names. She didn’t want Malt to fill her head with more things she just didn’t care about. So, he was ignored as they trudged on through the fields.

Her mind wandered. Didn’t Malt have a sister? He mentioned something about that over breakfast. Were there more Miltank on the farm besides those two? She suspected no, but wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she was wrong. It seemed like an awful lot of milk for one Pokemon to produce. But nevermind that... What was her name, again? Clover had mentioned it. Some weird word, obviously a foreign name. Ova-something... Oveline? Olivine? Oval... it was Ovaltine! This rang a dull bell in the back of her mind, and she realized it was the correct name. Huh.

“And over here, it looks like this is where the rest of them go when it’s time to clean the--”

“Hey Malt, where’s your sister?”

“--stables and, what? Ovaltine? If I had to guess, she’d be near her place. Why?”

“We haven’t met her yet.”

“Er, yeah. I figured we’d make our rounds there at the end.”

“Why don’t we go there now?” PK’s curiosity was getting the best of her. “I don’t really care about this other crap, anyway.”

Malt stopped in his tracks, causing PK to nearly bump into his backside. She thought he was going to get annoyed, or perhaps even angry with her, but to her surprise he simply placed his hands at his hips and turned to smile down at her in good humor. He was so weird sometimes. “Well, sure then. Why not? It’s been a while since I’ve actually spoken to her.”

He started to walk again, but once more abruptly paused in his tracks. This time PK actually did smash her face right into his back, causing her to stumble backwards and land square on her bottom. This time she wanted to get angry, but instead found herself laughing. “Dumbass! Watch where you’re going!”

Malt was relieved to hear her yelling in a good natured way. He thought perhaps she was getting over whatever her problem with the ranch had been, and that was good progress to him. “Sorry lady. I’ll try to be more careful with this thing,” he said, wriggling his rear. He reached down and helped her up. “I just wanna warn you right now, you probably won’t like my sister very much. She’s kind of a... well, she likes gossip and stuff.”

PK’s tail quivered a bit. “Eh, I don’t care. I know how to not talk,” she said, even as Malt’s face turned incredulous. “Believe it or not.”

“It shouldn’t really be a problem. Her place is just over yonder, I think. I haven’t seen her very much since the whole place was rebuilt, so I might be wrong. But, you know, I don’t think I am, unless there’s another Miltank-shaped house around here,” he said. PK laughed at that, and partially at how absurd the houses like that really were.

They had mostly made their way back to the main path from the entrance, almost to Ovaltine’s house, when a familiar sound made its way closer with every passing second. It was just outside the ranch. It wasn’t something that either of them had wanted to hear, actually. Malt was immediately suspicious, and PK was hardly thrilled. She was finally getting into the groove of meeting Pokemon at the ranch, and then...

...then Twigs’s carriage showed up, the same two stoic Zebstrika leading it along the course. He stopped right alongside them both, as they were certain he would.

“Hello, dear. I just thought I would personally pick up my milk today, and I get the pleasant surprise of seeing you here. What a coincidence, isn’t it?”

PK was entirely unamused by Twigs’s “coincidental” appearance. She didn’t know how he found out where she was, but that hardly mattered. “I don’t think so, no. Why are you really here?”

“Oh, darling! I’ve already told you why. But, while we’re both here, I actually was on my way from the village. You see, you and I had a little arrangement today. Did you forget?”

What. Had she really? No... “Again, don’t think so. Today’s the day I meet everyone out here. Been planned for a while.”

Twigs placed a paw on the open window of his carriage, resting his chin right on top. It gave him a sleepily playful appearance. PK was sure she saw feline intelligence absolutely beaming behind those eyes, however. “It does seem rather unfortunate that you forgot about our arrangement in favor of being... here. Around this... lovely... place.” PK suspected he didn’t really care about offending Malt. To tell the truth, she still didn’t like “the country,” but found the inhabitants of the place mostly nice enough.

“Well, whatever you say. Enjoy your milk.” She managed to pull a smile from somewhere. Being at the ranch wasn’t her favorite, but...

“It’s a shame you can’t join me,” he continued, ignoring her dismissal. “Today I had some very special presents prepared for you.”

And now he was trying to entice her with things... and it was, as much as she was ashamed to admit it, working. She liked things. She liked them quite a bit, actually, which had spurred her decision to even fight to become the leader of the Tao merchants. She caught Malt’s face from the side of her vision and saw that he was thoroughly unimpressed, clearly waiting for PK to hurry up and send Twigs along.

But... she really wanted to see...

...and should have told Twigs to leave...

...but even more so wanted to find out what had been prepared for her. In order to make herself feel less like a horrendous tool by abandoning Malt, she didn’t even look back at him as she slinked into the carriage. That made it easier to avoid the shame. Perhaps if PK had so much as glanced back, she might have changed her mind.

Malt didn’t immediately respond. When he got over disbelieving that a perfect escape for her had materialized, he could not help but sound a bit cross. “PK! What are you doing?! We’re not done here yet!”

“I’ll check it all out later, Malt,” she answered. He didn’t talk any further at her, for the carriage was already on its way out. They did not stop for milk.

It was a long ride, but they made their way to Alomomola before it was too far into the afternoon. It wasn’t filled with much talk at all; PK chose to take a nap shortly after leaving the ranch. It was part to avoid thinking about Malt, and part to pass the boredom. Twigs woke her not too long before they reached the city. He, too, had been taking a nap, but arose before she. This had become the custom when they traveled to and from the city.

He had pulled her gently from her sleep by speaking softly next to her head. “Today, we’re going to do something a bit different.”

She was disoriented at first, but then remembrance hit her. “Do what?” She spoke slowly and tiredly. “Where’s the... where’s the stuff for me?”

“You’ll see soon, darling.”

That was good enough for her. Maybe it’d be a really fine pastry, or it could even be a cake, or perhaps... well. It was probably best she didn’t get her expectations up. It would be even better if they weren’t set high to begin with. It was easiest to fully enjoy things that way: no hopes to be crushed if they didn’t exist to begin with!

Instead of getting out of the carriage as they reached the city’s limits, they kept going. It did slow down considerably, though. PK expected them to stop, but they didn’t. They kept traveling through the city, to the annoyance of pedestrians walking through the streets. Eventually, the pier was in sight. Not any pier, but the main one, the Merchants’ Pier, matching--no, exceeding--the Merchants’ Hut of Tao in importance. PK had hoped another destination was in mind, but her hope was in vain. They stopped right in front of the pier, at the very end of the wooden walkway. Twigs didn’t even ask the Zebstrika to stop. It seemed that particular destination had been their goal from the beginning.

PK reached for the handle. “So... where are we going from here?”

“This is it.”

“Eh?”

“I’ll be out in a moment.”

PK shrugged. “Kay. Well then.” She tentatively climbed out, expecting... something. What? She was unsure, but this definitely broke the normal schedule their dates had taken on. It was a little thrilling; their outings had become predictable up until that point.

Strangely, a small crowd had started to mill about around the carriage. It made PK anxious. So many eyes looking in her direction!

And then Twigs emerged, a tiny black box in his mouth, hanging by a silky, black ribbon to match. Clearly luxurious.

Suddenly, dread and realization filled her to the brim. This... was not at all the type of present she had expected, nor wanted. Especially not with so many watching. Twigs sauntered up to her, willfully dismissing his audience (despite the fact that PK was certain he had arranged for them to gather at this time!), and very carefully placed the box on the ground in front of her. He tugged off the ribbon, gently pulling one of the two tails, and then flipped up the lid with the flick of a claw. It confirmed PK’s fears and suspicions of the situation.

It was a pair of rings. One was plain and golden, one was ornate with multicolored gems lining the perimeter of the ring (one for every color of the rainbow, she guessed), and they were perhaps an inch in diameter each.

Twigs lowered himself close to the ground. The audience’s excited murmur was slowly fading in anticipation. PK found herself wanting to cry. She didn’t actually succumb to tears, no, but the urge was there. The spotlight was absolutely not the place for her, and here she was, player in a little performance that she hardly wanted to be a part of. Great.

In her desire to leave the scene, she searched for a thousand other topics to think about in that instant. Why here? Why had they stopped here? Why in front of everyone? And then it struck her that the location was very important indeed. It had been specifically chosen, there was no doubt. It was right at the entrance to the biggest pier; precisely where she had first met Twigs, this was where they were both standing. Every landmark around her was the same. This was really, truly that spot.

PK would have given anything to just escape and crawl away. She heavily considered what might happen if she substituted out, but decided that wasn’t something she cared to do in front of many attentive eyes. Besides, it kind of ruined the magic of the trick if someone was watching from every angle.

Enough of that. She had almost been lost in her thoughts, but Twigs brought her back with dizzying speed when he spoke. She felt mildly ill.

“My darling, I think it’s time, don’t you?” Hushed, yet energetic whisperings from the crowd. “Would you do this for me?”

PK’s throat was dry. She tried to say something, but it merely came out as a raspy cry. Twigs didn’t notice.

He spoke again. “Will you marry me?” There was a dead silence, an expectant silence from the bunch encircling the two.

Marriage. Why? Marriage was hardly... it was hardly suited to PK. Everywhere she had been, it was uncommon, mostly for the fact that it signaled an extreme commitment between two Pokemon. Commitment wasn’t unusual, though. That wasn’t the issue. It was that it heavily linked together two Pokemon as one unit. It was kind of like a brand, combining a couple into an entity. It was used a lot in business relationships as a tool to bring separate branches together, out in Alomomola. The very idea sent a chill down her spine. It felt somewhat like she might lose her identity, so it was hardly something she was ever interested in. Over the course of her dates with Twigs, she had hoped that he would understand her lack of desire for marriage, but her suitor apparently was not one for hints.

Unless he was purposely ignoring them.

PK racked her brain, wishing to find a way out of the situation. She very badly did not want to be around so many goddamned eyes scanning her every move. Was that on purpose? PK didn’t want to let down a crowd. But... that was stupid. Who cared what they thought? She must have, because she stammered, not managing to utter any complete word or phrase. Twigs watched, statuesque, with an intensely focused gaze.

PK looked hopelessly one more time for escape, for some way out of the situation, when she saw something to egg her on. Slightly out onto the Merchants’ Pier, about 30 feet out, she saw Anana, looking rather manic.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she just said yes.