The Dates
| ||||||||||||||||
Throughout the dim room, the surprised sighs and gasps of the audience resonated in unison with the completion of the trick. How did Hugh pull that off? No psychic powers involved! How in the world did he manage to pull that trick off? There were murmurs between friends, whispers between pairs, and the confused mumblings of Pokemon who had gone to the show solo and as such had no one with which to share the experience. That was okay though. It was enough to be a part of the audience at large when such feats were performed. That Kadabra flashed another one of his charismatic smiles over his shoulder (wooing a few ladies in the process) before dramatically spinning around in such a way as to let his cape twirl in the air. He certainly had a flair for theatrics; the stage was his home, and in it he was most comfortable. His incredible intelligence lent itself to setting up elaborate tricks to deceive the audience into believing beautiful lies. It was his craft! Alongside Dee and Nie, Hugh could pull off anything. And besides, it’s not as if he had psychic powers... the Dusk stone ground into the cement and placed all along the walls of the King’s Rock Casino had no real bearings on what Hugh could do. The Psychic-type suppressor was in place so that the casino couldn’t be cheated out of its money. How unfair would that be for everyone if it weren’t so?
It made the mind tricks that Hugh did all the more impressive. Sometimes, he would call up a Psychic-type from the audience and get them to do their best in predicting cards or some random number. They would, of course, fail - and be momentarily embarrassed. That was the nature of it, and that was how Hugh had to set it up. If he didn’t let the audience understand that one of them wasn’t able to breach the barrier, then they would automatically have doubts about how genuine he was being. After all, it’s easy to say, “I am not using any psychic powers,” but how many would believe you without an unknowing audience member being flabbergasted when he cannot use his own powers? You become a lot more astonishing when you can still, apparently, read minds!
...but of course, that was all a trick, too. It was only the illusion of being able to read minds, but it seemed incredible when no one could figure out the secret, when everyone would get lost in the magic of the moment. That was what Hugh lived for.
It was kind of a silly topic, anyway. Genuineness? In stage performances? Everything was never what it seemed, there was more to be seen no matter what was being pulled! The unimportant was important; anything that was seemingly important was probably a diversion. Though, it wasn’t as if the audience knew this or cared. They came to be amazed and to be entertained, and this is just what Hugh was good at.
…
And with that trick over, and the audience nearly sated, Hugh wanted to pull off his finale for the afternoon. He needed a member from the audience though. Someone smaller than he, someone he could fit into his box and who wouldn’t need to do anything complex...
With the flick of his wand, Hugh signalled Nie, his Pidove assistant, to spotlight a guest. It landed on a dark Kecleon seated in between a prim Persian and a fidgety Jumpluff. He was kind of slouched against the red velvet, and Hugh wasn’t sure if the fellow was awake at all at first. A nudge from the Persian to the side and the Kecleon spasmed straight up, looking mildly alarmed. Or at least, that’s what it seemed from this distance. Hugh had pretty good eyes, but the Pokemon on which Nie had rested the spotlight was a few rows back. This wouldn’t do for his trick! No, not at all.
“Come on up, won’t you? I need your help for this next amazing, wonderful, fantastic feat, sir! If you would be so kind!” Hugh called out. Lots of ladies fell for his stage persona and stage voice, and even some of the gents. He figured that the Kecleon would be delighted, as all the other participants always were, once he got on stage. There was a pause though.
The Kecleon shifted around uncomfortably, and the Persian took this as a chance to whisper something to his squirming friend. Hugh imagined they were friends anyway. Maybe more? The Persian’s body language said as much, even if the other’s didn’t. The pause lasted too long.
“Sir?” Hugh asked, keeping his fantastic composure, “won’t you help me out with my feat?” As long as the silence didn’t last too long, Hugh knew how to turn it all around. He was good at that, as he was good at many things involving psychology and trickery. Conversation, directed conversation, was certainly a strong point of his.
The Kecleon fumbled with the arms of the seat a little, listening to the Persian. He then looked straight up at Hugh from his seat and spoke clearly, “I’m not a sir.”
Hugh was absolutely dumbstruck. He blinked his big, confused eyes a couple of times, smacking his lips once in an attempt to recapture lost words. How could he have made such a novice mistake? It had to be that Dee was out and had been ill for the past couple of weeks... oh, and Dee would find his mistake so terrible! To accidentally confuse a gender! It shook him up quite badly, and he was nearly unable to regain himself. Perhaps if he hadn’t been as experienced in working these situations out, he’d have frozen up and the show would’ve been a bust. Not now, not this time!
“Of course you aren’t, but you looked nearly asleep! I had to test if you were awake enough to perform somehow, didn’t I?” he asked, giving a theatric wink in her direction. “Now what’s your name, Miss? And won’t you please join me for this next trick?”
What a color for a girl Kecleon though... Hugh wasn’t quite sure if his slip up was due to the lack of Dee’s presence, or that he only expected girls of this species to come in yellow. Regardless...
He watched her stumble past the other audience members. Was she drunk, or... or just really tired? Either way, this was looking to be a pretty poor selection on Nie’s part. Hugh made a note to later speak to his fine feathered friend about this choice in temporary stage helper. She’d forgotten or didn’t care enough to give up her name before coming to the stage. Scanning the audience, Hugh caught briefly the discomfort everyone started to display with Nie’s choice. Fantastic. The pointed looks, the whispers in the Kecleon’s direction... It was going to require even more work to keep the audience in good cheer all the way through the end of the trick.
PK awkwardly made her way past bulky Pokemon in their comically small or wrongly shaped seats, aiming to reach the lit stage where whatever stupid trick was going to happen. She was in the middle of a long daydream about woulda and coulda beens when some idiot shined the brightest light of her flipping life right into her eyes. It was all a confused mess, and then the idiot magician had called her a guy. Way to go. To tell the truth, she didn’t even care that much about the blunder, but sleeping and eating poorly for over two weeks had made her even more irritable than she could ever remember being in months. She wanted nothing less than to climb up onto that stage and be in the center of everyone’s attention. Again. She’d had enough of that crap for months now, and it was finally wearing her down. It had been fine enough to manage with a partner at her side, all the stupid side glances and comments easily being shrugged or laughed off. But, she’d lost that. She’d lost her partner with which she could joke, and in the process, seemed to have lost the ability to joke. She’d not laughed in weeks. Smiles had become a rare commodity, as well.
She felt the eyes, caught wind of the whisperings. Were they about her? Of course they were. She couldn’t catch a break; was it always going to be like this? She didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be a part of this... this stupid trick. She didn’t even want to be in the casino, she didn’t even want to watch this show... She was downright exhausted and sleep was absolutely hard to come by! It couldn’t be helped if she’d found the plush seat in the dark room just a tad bit too comfortable, damnit! It didn’t earn her all these weird looks, she was so, so tired: tired of this haughty Kadabra standing on his stage like a throne, tired of this sleepy, claustrophobic room, and tired of Twigs trying to slobber all over her during the show. Well, maybe that last one wasn’t entirely accurate. Whatever he’d been saying to her got mixed in with her daydreams and had turned into some strange scenario where he had her pinned down in the beautifully redone, rebuilt Merchant Hut, and was doing embarrassing things in front of imaginary perturbed customers. She wanted to try to store this in her mental banks to evaluate later, but already her dream was slipping out of her grasp like water out of a hole-ridden pail. Such was the nature of dreams, she supposed. Still, it seemed important...
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, PK reached the little steps onto the stage. Her tail drooped and her eyes looked and felt dull, but she trudged her way up next to the Kadabra and his tiny box. Was she supposed to go into that or something? Shortly she’d find out. Maybe it won’t be too involving, she hoped. Maybe I can get back to my sleep soon-- er, back to my chair soon, outta here soon. God, I’m so tired! What am I even thinking?!
If there was any indication of how down-to-the-bones exhausted she was, the flashy Kadabra either didn’t notice or care. And why should he? His concern was the stage. Always! Always so single-minded! And it’s not like he could read her mind, hah! No, he was handicapped for his species, and had somehow turned that into a profitable venture. PK had to respect that a little, in the deepest parts of her brain. The parts that weren’t pissed off over being on stage unexpectedly.
“Ladies and gentlemon, please do not take your eyes off of this lovely girl! She is going to disappear before your very eyes!” Hugh announced. Really? Was that some sort of Kecleon cue she was supposed to follow or something? Because she wasn’t going to do it and if this stupid cape he was waving in front of her was a clue then-
And just like that, a twirl of the cape later--(and of what use was the box? some other part of the trick? she never found out, and besides that, it quickly left her mind)-- PK found herself having fallen into a dark space, the brief light from the stage disappearing along with the slightly audible click of the trapdoor mechanic falling back into place, caught in some unknown’s arms. She was about to scream, surely would have, but was silenced by a fluffy paw tapping her head. “Shh! Don’t let them hear you!”
PK had it in her mind to let them hear her anyway, but decided against it. Let them have their dumb tricks. The audience was roaring with applause at however he’d concluded the trick anyway, so no one would have heard her regardless. She... she did fall through a trapdoor, right? It was too dark to tell. Why would Hugh pick someone to help him out if they would just find out his secrets? Couldn’t the chosen Pokemon just rat Hugh out? PK wondered these questions (rather half-heartedly, admittedly, for she didn’t really care for magic shows to begin with) before realizing that the unknown who had been carrying her was on the move. What the hell.
If there was one thing that was absolutely frightening no matter her life circumstances, it was running into things in the dark. And here someone was, carrying her through a whole room full of somethings in the dark. Maybe she’d bump her head, maybe she’d get a concussion, what did it matter? Not much, apparently! Maybe this guy, girl, whatever, would trip and drop her and she’d fall into some pit. She couldn’t see anything to know otherwise! Wait. No, it was a guy, definitely a guy. Fluffy? Like on the poster? Oh.. wait, there’d been a Lopunny on the poster! But... it was a girl on the poster, it seemed. This voice had been a guy. Was she mistaken? It sounded familiar though. But how could it be? Ahh, it wasn’t that farfetched. She had lived out in the Bay for most of her life, it was possible...
Eh. But what did it matter, anyway? PK mostly cared about where they ended up. Flying through the darkness was terrifying--okay, well, it wasn’t flying so much as... taking giant strides. It wasn’t on purpose, but she found herself clinging to the--shirt?--of whatever this fluffy guy was wearing. If she was sleepy before, she was definitely alert now. She might have squeaked and gasped a bit in her utter panic, though she really couldn’t be sure with the way her heart thumping completely filled her ears. Blood rushing, that’s all she could hear. She only guessed that she had accidentally made her terror known when the unknown fellow asked if she was all right somewhere along the lines. Snorting her (untrue) assent, they continued up, down, across, wherever the hell they were going.
And then she felt his weight shift and a door opened (it seems the fellow had kicked it open, judging from the sudden jolt she experienced), blinding her momentarily with the onslaught of crazy lightworks that only the casino was known for. Immediately she had to squint. What a stupid amount of lights, she thought. Slowly, her eyes adjusted, and she was lowered down to the ground by her ride. She huddled over the floor, doing her best to shade her eyes with her tiny claws. Whatever feelings she’d gone through in the past few minutes were all replaced by a sense of vertigo and then that of nausea.
That same voice of the Pokemon who’d bounded over here, well, it seemed to recognize her. “PK? You’re...”
“What?” she asked. No time for games. She didn’t even turn around, the dizziness was filling her gut, threatening to pull her to the ground.
Perhaps her tone had set him off, or maybe she was just out of it and unable to really converse today and this stranger had sensed it, but he didn’t respond. She turned slightly to catch his gaze, but instead found an uneasy gape. It figured.
“You’re Dee?” she asked. “From the poster?”
“Erm... sort of. I mean, no, but yes, I’m filling in for her, and--” clearly this stranger felt awkward about this arrangement for whatever reason, fumbling on his words. He gave a sort of sheepish half grin in the middle of what he was saying. Something was shining in those green eyes that he didn’t dare mention. This was kind of infuriating. Or, well, it was until nausea won out again. PK had no energy to be annoyed. Though...
“Wait a sec, are you- you’re from the village then?” PK asked, not really needing to hear the answer. The answer was yes. A Lopunny... masculine build... green eyes... familiar voice, apparently recognized her... Ah! Aha!
“You’re... you’re a Rogue, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around.” PK looked up. The dainty vest looked out of place on his build, there was no question about it. He looked back. His silence was all the affirmation she needed. “You don’t make a very convincing girl up close,” she concluded.
He snorted a laugh, and then added, “No, but it gets the job done. And we get paid, y’know.” We? Definitely a team. Not one of her own, had to be a Rogue for sure.
Having completed his duty to deliver one (1) Kecleon to safety, the magician’s assistant swiveled about foot and scurried back into the darkness, off to perform more specific (and, in PK’s book, no doubt inane) deeds for Hugh.
Slowly the sense of falling and needing to vomit passed. Now, where was she, exactly? She wasn’t too familiar with the casino, a place that had been built shortly after she left. Her sister’s doings, of course. The big metal door from which she’d come closed resolutely and then it dawned on her that she’d accidentally lost track of her date by having participated in the little show. It wasn’t a big deal, and no one seemed to notice or care that she was there, but the casino felt way too cramped and crowded. It was hard to think, the buzzing of the lights, the occasional ding of the strange box machines (followed by the clatter of Poke that she’d recognize anywhere), the constant chatter all around her of excited and annoyed and happy Pokemon... it all combined into a very invasive sort of cacophony echoing around her head. The drowsiness set back in, and she was once again slumped over, lost in muddled thoughts, the location this time being in the middle of the brightly lit inner chamber of the casino instead of the atmospheric darkness of the theater’s gallery.
Already halfway to the destined spot by the time Hugh announced his trick, Twigs slunk along the aisle and up to the theater’s exit, out into the noisy casino in a matter of moments. His prize, his girl, was no doubt going to be waiting for him by the time he reached the location he was assured she’d end up at--and how excited would she be? She got chosen for the trick, and all because of him. Surely would brighten up their date a little bit. It had to, he knew how much attention his girl craved and needed. If only he’d found her sooner...
Prowling along the extravagantly decorated hallways and past Pokemon who were either about to make it big or, the more likely of the two, lose all their earnings, Twigs pondered how Lady Fate had treated him. Years he’d gone looking for this girl, his girl, and she’d been right in Tao Village all along... for how long, exactly? After all, he had visited her parents more than once, he had visited them both many times and they hadn’t a clue where she was. So far as he could tell, they weren’t lying. The dad’s telltale Tail Twitch of Anger (as PK had often called it) appeared at the mention of his missing daughter’s name. Twigs thought that he was both embarrassed by the girl’s less-than-noble actions and by the fact that she was nowhere to be found. What was his name again? Aguav? Agava? Something like that. Didn’t he have arrangements still set up with that temperamental Kecleon? The answer was yes. Ah... that didn’t matter... all that mattered was getting to his girl.
And he saw her, there, slumped over, sitting in the middle of the carpet. Huh, odd. Her eyes were half lids, but that didn’t mean much for a Kecleon. Perhaps she was lost in thought? That had to be it. Yes, definitely. That she ignored the rowdy crowd of Piplup and Prinpup, singing some terrible version of a popular ditty around the Bay... well, it was rather uncharacteristic of her. His girl was always the first to tell a Pokemon what was for, and if they should shut their filthy traps or not. Yes, his! He’d reclaimed her! He’d reclaimed a Miss Payapa Kiwi, and he would keep it this way. True, she may have seemed a bit reluctant to follow through with going on the date at first, but she eventually made time. And it was going to be wonderful. Maybe after enough convincing, he could get her to leave that rotting village and stay in his villa for the rest of her days. Yes. He would like that very much, he would.
Finally, coming to a halt right beside his darling, Twigs spoke. “Dearest, why don’t we continue on to our meal? You must be famished after such a show.”
Either she didn’t hear him due to the noise of the place, or she was ignoring him. The latter option simply could not be true, so he lowered his head to meet her sitting form and spoke again. “Dear? Wouldn’t you like some fish? I know I would.”
At first, her eyes remained dull. After a moment, though, they shined with recognition and she seemed to be lifted of whatever fugue that had captured her mind during the show. Her mouth hung partially open, the crook twitching slightly, but she seemed all there. She was regarding him wildly. Was she perhaps upset...? No, that was foolish. There had been nothing to be upset over. It was a little unnerving to watch, but it would likely fade as her appetite was satisfied. After all, who wasn’t a little antsy while hungry? Twigs couldn’t think of anyone. Yes, her mood would clear with a full belly. That was what he decided.
Slowly, she rose. Maybe the most disturbing part was her color. It had been black when he reunited with his lost love, but now... even in these bright, warm lights, she looked... dusty, and ill. The dull sheen of abandoned cobwebs. Cobwebs...
It was okay, though; he loved her inner beauty, it didn’t matter if she seemed older than the aeons right here and now in this bustling money pit. He loved the way she worked... the way she regarded others... her calculating, crafty mind. That was what he wanted. And it was his, again. All he had to do? It was simple. She really seemed to care about the village, for whatever reason. He wouldn’t try or pretend to understand it. So, he helped from his own funds. Well... he understood how much trouble she went through planning and replanning and arranging and building. All it did was take her time away from him... and this was not forgivable. He arranged for her to accept a lump sum of money; it was the only way that she would be pried from her village.
Now that he’d gotten her away from that dump once, it would be successively easier every other time. That’s how it worked, that’s really how it worked. Get your foot in, don’t leave. She’d fight it, that was absolutely a given. That was her nature. But, he would guide and coax her into what was best, into staying at his villa, into leaving that land of serfs. What more could she possibly want? Money wasn’t an object, it never was. They could go anywhere, do anything! He, majestic gentlecat, and she, fiery and fierce temptress, together, as it ought to be. Hadn’t he dreamed of this day every moment she’d been missing from his sights? Why, yes. He had.
Though there was an itching in his mind, a little signal that something wasn’t quite right and it might never be, that perhaps his girl had been broken, he chose to ignore it. For, you see, our prissy feline here had become overwhelmed and lost in his desire to reclaim a past vision... so much so that, in fact, he let himself overlook her ill coloration. Perhaps-- no, no, almost assuredly, that monocled mushroom that with whom you and I are so familiar (and whose loss we still mourn, do not forget) would have understood what these colors meant, for he had seen our little Kecleon in every color under the sun and knew all too well what each signified.
Alas, Twigs was no Shroomsworth. Though, I suppose you will see that for yourself in due time.
PK attempted to stand, knees wobbly, head foggy. She noted that Twigs had found her quickly, of course. Wait. How? How’d he know where she’d end up?
She stood, turned to face the cat at her side. If she possessed any more energy, an ounce more even, she might have started yelling at him. Fatigue won out though, as it had for the past week. She knew how uneasy this made Malt; he knew her to be... to put it bluntly, loud and opinionated. About everything. And lately, she just couldn’t scrounge up the drive to really care about anything besides plans for her village. It was hers... She had to make it bigger, better, that was the only option! And here, Twigs had provided some assistance. It might have been a tad bit too hasty to accept the date proposal, but...
Okay. Yeah. She’d agreed to it wholly to frustrate Anana. And it had worked! With Anana’s strained smile, PK knew she’d hit the worst spot. Was it worth it? Well, at the very least, it’d gotten her sister out of her face and onto sneaky ventures elsewhere. That was fine, but the price she had to pay was, uh. Well, it was having to deal with Twigs.
It was a bit too complicated to explain in a single statement or sentiment. Her history with him led to a number of emotions, the first one being... fear. Not of him, no, she didn’t often fear any one individual, but the fear of losing control of the village. Her village!
Grim and reluctant, she looked at Twigs. She couldn’t easily back out now. She couldn’t run away like before. She was now chained to this guy. He now knew where she lived, and she had duties to perform. No running away. And if he happened to want to donate some in order to motivate her to step away from the village... was that really so bad? She could deal with a clingy guy for a while, right? Especially if she was going to have enough funds to do, well, everything she’d ever wanted to do with the place. Their reconstruction effort would just be the first of many additions to the village if she milked this right.
…
Ah...
Didn’t that make her like Anana...?
...
“Payapa dear, are you quite all right? Let’s go get food! Payapa? Hello?” Twigs asked. He couldn’t keep the slight panic out of his voice. No one else would have picked up on it, but she didn’t fail to.
“Don’t call me that.” Enough of that. She’d clock him, donation or not, if he didn’t stop using her born name. He reeled back slightly and gave her a wounded look. She ignored his pitiful display, temper beginning to flair... and then let it drop. “Food? What are we getting?”
Very apparently relieved, he exhaled a sigh. “I figured we might get a bite of fish from the sushi place.” Expecting an immediate delighted response, he became uneasy at her silence. “You are, ah, you still eat that, right?” It was clear he had forgotten to even consider that she might have changed her diet up over the years. It was also clear that he really did not want to change his own.
“Sure. Don’t care. Let’s go,” she said. PK waited for Twigs to find his way toward the exit. Navigation was not her strong point, and she was already disoriented from her journey through the dark mystery room. He took the hint, and they were off.
Down the windowless hallways, through the windowless rooms, and a twisty flight of stairs later, she finally spotted the entrance through which they’d arrived. Good. She was too out of it to even keep track of their course, but it didn’t matter. Hopefully she wouldn’t be returning to the casino anytime soon. She looked back briefly and up at the oversized Shellder -- it was hard to trust a place that would love to gobble your money and toss you in the dust.
(Was this how others felt about her shop?)
After the cold, artificial light of the interior, the sunlight--and its warmth--were both needed and wanted. It was nice to breathe in the salty spray of the ocean again. She had really forgotten how nice the beach was!
(Was it even a wonder that the bay was always the more profitable of the two...?)
She could even forget her worries out here on the crowded beach. Since she was away from her work, maybe she could try her best to enjoy her time out. Would it really kill her that much to give an effort toward doing so, anyway? No, it wouldn’t. So, she’d try.
Maybe Twigs wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could forget there had been better.
She walked the familiar beach path alongside him, looking down at her feet as they neared the biggest pier. It felt good; warmth was good, especially after the recent... well, warmth was good, that was that. The sand giving way for her toes felt good, too. Sand! She really hadn’t been here in a while! Maybe she could even walk along the shore, maybe she could swipe some sea foam up with her tail. And Twigs? He didn’t try to make conversation, already convinced he’d won her over.
Nibble was busily preparing the freshly caught food. Today? Goldeen, Finneon, Krabby, Squirtle, and some Octillery for good measure. The latter two were rare catches! Business would be nice today, there were always customers who sought to try the rarer species. It was sometimes messy business, and sometimes Nibble had to call Anana in to negotiate with families of lost children. That was the way of things, and it was his life. It was too good of a business not to keep running, so run it he would. Someone would fill his place if he left it, besides. So why not? Wanted to eat meat? Wanted to do it in a place where you wouldn’t be held accountable for the lives lost? Well, Nibble’s sushi shack was for you!
It didn’t fit a lot of tastes (nor many wallets), but the Bay was known for attracting Pokemon with money to spare. That was good for Nibble. It was just fine. It seemed foreign and exotic. And it was! Nibble wasn’t from the bay, but he had picked up the strange dialect early on. Sometimes, he knew his phrasing was awkward and off. The funny glances and the blank pauses before responses always told him he’d mixed up the placement of a word or misused it entirely. He might not ever totally understand the slang on this coast, but it was all right. He would keep on keeping on, and he would make the best sushi he could.
A crack as his strong horns broke open another Krabby shell, emptying the contents of its innards onto a platter. Perfect!
The restaurant’s door jingled, and Nibble stood up from behind the counter to make sure it was the correct customer. So it was! The ascot-clad Persian who’d rented the place for an hour and a half. But.. he didn’t seem to have a party with him. It was only a single... another Kecleon? Nibble double checked just to make sure it wasn’t Anana. The lizard’s poor, dim scales should have said all, but it never hurt to avoid making a nasty mistake.
Nibble spoke up as soon as Twigs neared. “What do you like now?” he asked. Naturally, he also flashed his best smile. It might have been endearing, but any of his actual smiles brought about a smile from his horns, as well. On a Mawile, smiles like that only ended up unnerving most of his customers.
Not today! It looked like neither of them were fazed. That was good. (It’s not like he had to worry about losing business, for the sum Nibble received to close the shop for the Persian’s party was more than the chef usually made in a week. Still, it was nice to not disturb others.)
“What are your catches today?” Twigs asked. He took a seat at the bar and crossed his arms. The Kecleon slowly followed suit, head drooping and tail dragging. Twigs closed his eyes and immersed himself in the task of giving himself a miniature bath as he waited on Nibble’s response, starting with his paws. Nibble did find this a bit rude, but...
“Well, today is good day. Very good day! Octillery. You like. Maybe you want some of Squirtle, too?” Nibble was fine giving his good catches to this wealthy couple. He wouldn’t be out any money for it, so why not? Maybe it’d become an extravagant habit on the Persian’s behalf and this summer Nibble would be able to afford a nicer place. What a dream!
Twigs paused mid-groom, opened a single eye (he could not afford to open the second, apparently, for he might lose his interest in self-bathing), and nodded. Then, the bath was resumed. Well, that was that. Now what about the other?
Nibble turned to his left and locked eyes with the Kecleon. “And you?”
“I’m not really in the mood for rubbery stuff. What else do you have?” she asked. Nibble was briefly surprised to hear the voice of a flustered, tired young lady instead of that of a defeated old man. Interesting.
“I have Krabby, Keikouo, Tosakinto.”
She perked up a little and then looked confused. Nibble realized his mistake only after he’d spoken, ah...
“Excuse me,” he said, “ I mean to say Krab, Finneon, and... er, orange fish with white. Horn.” A little bit of flush worked its way into his face. How embarrassing, he didn’t usually mess up species names like that! He could usually at least recall them almost immediately after any blunders! He pantomimed the horn and made a fluttery motion with his arms... ugh!
Twigs kept grooming himself, unamused. The pressure Nibble felt from the fussy cat... it was almost unbearable, but then he looked back to the other, the lady in the old shell. She was about to laugh! It was enough for poor Nibble, too much. He ran into the back room, hoping to compose himself as well as fetch the forgotten fish in question.
PK surprised herself with a smile. She found foreigners delightful. Maybe it was something about how cheerful they usually tended to be, or maybe it was something about the way they talked. Either way, growing up in this hub had let her learn to appreciate these Pokemon. Foreign accents reminded her of growing up, and as such, they tickled her fancy.
Her smile lost its edge when she realized she hadn’t heard any sort of real accent in weeks.
And to further remove the edge of her glee, Twigs didn’t seem to share in her delight at all. Now he was grooming his tail. Realizing she was quite alone once more, she slumped back into her seat. This should have been a nice meal to enjoy, but the afternoon wasn’t panning out so well. She felt utterly alone in this tiny wooden shack. Twigs could have been gone, and what? It wouldn’t have mattered. The bustling outside was muted; there were only the slick sounds of barbed tongue combing fur and the slapping of fish as Nibble got to his quarry.
And eventually he returned to the front room, carrying a dead Goldeen in his freakish second maw. Of course! A Goldeen! Truth be told, she should have and could have figured out what he meant, but was too delighted by his accent to relay her guess. Oh well.
“See! This, Tosakinto!” he said, pointing up to the fish. “Very tasty too, if you like. Goldy for you?”
This was too much. Something about the way he said “goldy” with such a serious and worried express got to her funny bone, and she started to laugh. She leaned forward over the counter, trying to catch her breath, and failing to do so for a few beats. When she was finally ready to answer him, she looked up and caught his trouble gaze. She felt a little bad, for he must have thought she was laughing at him. That just wasn’t true! Well, not exactly. Well, okay, maybe she was laughing at him, but it wasn’t out of malice. Accents really were charming!
To try and reassure the thoroughly reddened chef, she gave a broad smile. She couldn’t have scowled even if she’d wanted to right now, for that exhilarating laughter had put some sort of spring in her cheeks, keeping her grin in place. It must have worked a little, because his tense posture eased a little and he looked back at her a little bashfully. That was all right. It was better than him feeling terrible for the rest of the day. She kept it in her mind to send a gift his way when she got home.
Meanwhile, Twigs had just finished putting all of his hairs in their proper place. His keen eyes were resting on Nibble. Unfortunately, this penetrating... look (or, you could call it a glare, really, and not be any less accurate) caused Nibble to clamp his strange head-jaw together out of some instinctive reaction. Nibble gratingly realized a moment too soon what he’d done, and the fish’s face and tail fell to the wooden floor with a splat not an instant later.
PK was dumbfounded. Twigs had a way of sucking the life out of this Mawile, and she simply did not understand why he had to appear so stern. If there was something notable that had changed, it was his attitude toward others. Had he been like that as a Meowth? She didn’t think so. She couldn’t remember it being so bad. Or maybe it was a fluke? Surely... or maybe he was having a bad day? Stomach ache?
It might have occurred to PK that she was making excuses for his poor behavior toward the likable chef, but she shoved that somewhere back into her subconscious. Maybe if she hadn’t been overworked, blinded by the money, and overcome with the strange obligation to see through whatever it was that he wanted of her, well then maybe she might have told him off right there. Maybe she might have spoken up and let him know what a little sleazeball she thought he really was. Maybe she would have told Nibble it was fine, and burst into another round of laughter.
But, she didn’t. She sat, mouth agape, still at loss for words. Poor guy! she thought. Poor, poor guy!
Was it even possible that she could grow to love him?
Hmm. Where did that phrase come from in the first place? It was from her mother, wasn’t it? The exact context was lost, but it stuck out to her as a phrase related to Twigs. Grow to love...
It seemed really counter-intuitive. Wasn’t love a do or don’t thing? How could you grow to love someone?
Well... Maybe she’d do it. She might learn. In this frozen moment? It seemed ludicrous to consider. She would try very, very hard to love this fussy fellow. Wouldn’t that be for the good of the village?
Oh, she was almost sure of it. It was definitely her mother who used that phrase... but about whom? Who was she talking to? Thinking back, sitting in the kitchen, listening to the soft waves outside their home at night... a warm breeze coming in from the window...
Yes, that was absolutely it. Her mother had been talking to both PK and Anana. Then the conversation turned toward love, for some reason or another. Context, context... what was it? Something about their father. Something about...
No, that wasn’t quite it! And then the memory and the moment passed, and PK snapped back into watching Nibble pick up the two ruined pieces of “goldy” and return to his back room.
Twigs propped himself up on the counter with his two front paws. He sniffed the air with interest in Nibble’s general direction, and then began his wait. If there was a thing that could be said about any cat-like Pokemon, it was that they knew how to present themselves as patient beings.
And so, Twigs sat like this for a good many moments, stoic as a statue. PK was immensely bored. Sure, the smell of the fish was pretty appetizing and a little revitalizing, but she kind of wanted someone to casually banter with. There was no such someone to be found here. She propped both cheeks up with her tiny hands and then let her face slide down dramatically. Twigs paid her no heed, waiting for his meal. This wasn’t the reaction she really wanted, she realized. No one was telling her how rude she looked, or to sit up straight, or to mind herself...
Fine. She, too, could patiently wait. She could play this game that came inherently to cats.
…
Or, maybe not. Ten minutes later (or was it? it could have been two, or thirty, for all she knew) and she was about to go mad. How did anyone go this long without talking? This would have been a good time to drift off into daydreaming, but the smell of the approaching mealtime kept her awake and ready to eat. It was torture enough to her. No food, no sleep! A brief, yet accurate, summary of her past two weeks.
Things she’d previously been able to overlook or ignore became unbearable. For instance, at that very moment, there was some sort of festival or activity taking place nearby, but not next to, sushi hut. This wouldn’t have been a problem, but the steady bass tones from some sort of large brass instrument played erratically. It might have been a nice song, but all she could really make out was that rumbling. She curled her fingers, her toes, and yes, her tail, as if she could release all of the tension through this tiny act. It didn’t work. Instead, it started to bottle and swell inside of her.
That’s really annoying. That’s so annoying. That’s so annoying, I wish they’d die, she thought. She continued this steady mantra in her mind for a minute or two. Her tired color returned to its former sullen, sinister shade. She might have covered up her tiny ear holes if the sound wasn’t so pervasive, if the sound didn’t resonate in her bones instead of her eardrums. What was there even to be done? Screaming wouldn’t work. She had no excuse to scream, anyway. No one was engaging her in conversation. She was all too aware of that. Her stomach gnawed at her as the hunger finally sunk in. She wanted to cry, but several things kept her from doing so. First off, she wasn’t hurt. She was tired and hungry, sure, but nothing was bringing tears to her eyes. Second off --and she hated to admit this, but--no one was around to afford her pity. Wasn’t that the primary reason why she’d ever cried? It wasn’t often, but it worked well when she needed to pull that card. Though...
Thinking back on it, PK couldn’t really recall the last time she’d used crying as a tool to move those to do what she wanted. That was more Anana’s game, wasn’t it? she thought. Anana knew how to turn that trick every time. When did that start? She wasn’t always like that, was she?
Nevermind. Nevermind that, I don’t care.
And the truth behind the third reason she wouldn’t, and couldn’t, break down into tears right then was because she’d simply exhausted her supply over the past couple of weeks. Sandy had come to comfort her for the first two (or was it three?) days after everyone had come back to Tao, but PK had detected that Sandy felt awkward and uneasy about the entire situation. Why? She didn’t know, but suspected it had something to do with Maple. Sandy and Maple had been hanging out together near daily. The first day that Sandy didn’t come home early in the evening, PK had locked her door and slept in the ruined room alone. It probably was a mean thing to do, but Sandy said nothing of it the next day. It only confirmed what PK wanted to know: that she was replaceable and no one would care if she dropped contact.
Well... somewhere faintly inside her mind, she knew that Sandy was still just a kid and didn’t need or deserve the heavy burden of lovesick grief. That wasn’t a kid’s job. Perhaps this contributed to her decision to stop letting Sandy sleep in her bed (and really, to mostly stop talking to the girl), but it was also the bitter jealousy she held toward Maple. Fine, let her have her little friend. I’ll just be alone.
Nibble was upon her and clattering down several platters of fresh fish when she was startled out of her broken daydreams. She had not had sushi in years! It wasn’t a good or polite thing to talk about eating habits in Tao, so she’d pushed meals like this from her mind for quite some time. She had to abstain from a natural diet of Bug-types and whatever other of the small critters that might please her and be easy to catch. That’s what you had to do as a guild head-- especially one they would want to feel safe around while trying to make a purchase. No one really wanted to hear about how their mother might have been eaten by so-and-so, or that their lost sister might have been their friend’s chow a month ago. Well... that was life. If she wanted protein, there were usually eggs from the ranch. So to make things simple, no one much talked about their diets in the village. Always the same sets of berries and vegetables, day in, day out... and sometimes an egg. Now that these plates were here, right in front of her, she could once again appreciate the culture of the bay, its collective good taste in fine food.
Twigs was the first to talk. “Finally. I was starting to think I might have paid to sit around and go hungry.” He leaned forward and started to bite at the pieces of fish that Nibble had spread along the china. PK was kind of sad to see such a pretty setup of food be disturbed so quickly. Their chef obviously took pride in the presentation of his dishes as well, so it seemed a shame to not take a moment to enjoy its appearance, despite her grumbling belly.
Maybe she was just thinking funny. Maybe it was just her lack of sleep. It was silly to criticize someone for eating when hungry... that didn’t really make any sense. Maybe... maybe she was the weird one for not doing as he did! She was absolutely famished, after all!
And so, she ruined another perfect piece of art with her first bite. It wasn’t uncommon for her to barely taste a meal as it went down, but she had forsaken food for such an extended period of time that the whole experience was heightened. She was even able to temporarily forget the stupid music playing loudly outside in favor of fully appreciating their banquet. And that’s really what it was, for there were constantly at least 5-6 full platters of fish cut into small pieces, usually wrapped in rice (no doubt having come from the rice fields to the southwest), artistically arranged and decorated with a multitude of delicious sauces. It was maybe only three plates in for PK before she gripped her sides and realized that she felt terribly ill, in all likelihood from wolfing down their mini feast too quickly. She hunched over the counter and nudged away an empty plate with her cheek so as to give herself a resting spot while keeping her arms wrapped around her aching stomach.
Twigs finally afforded her some attention from his meal. “My dear, what on earth are you doing? I’ve paid for much more than that. We have another hour or so left to dine.” He took his paw and slid a platter next to her face, obscuring her mouth.
“I’m full. I don’t feel that great.”
He considered what she’d said for a moment, then spoke again. “I don’t think you understand. I paid for more time, so we’re going to use that time.”
Her eyes challenged him. “Really? Is that what you think?” PK sat up straight, then hopped off the barstool, nearly tripping. Despite the painful knot forming in her stomach, she turned to face him and managed to speak with an air of dignity that had been missing for many days. “Because I think you can screw off. I’m going to use my time as I please, and I happen to be done eating.” She stopped herself, bit her tongue in reconsideration. “I’ll be outside. Maybe. If you’re lucky.” And with that, she left the confines of the tiny shack and walked out into the refreshing, salty winds of her hometown. She immediately felt like shackles had been removed. It was all in her head, of course, but the mental picture couldn’t be broken.
----
Twigs watched the door shut with the tinkle of the miniature Chingling bells. Wow. What a girl. She can’t deny me forever, but wow. It wasn’t more than a few moments before he went back to enjoying himself, picking at a particularly rubbery piece of Octillery. The texture wasn’t his favorite, but the taste was quite pleasant. He would finish up his meal and try some Squirtle before seeking out his girl. There was no way she would wander far. It was a journey of several hours to get back to Tao unless you sped it along somehow. He’d made sure to mention his carriage in passing earlier. One way or another, he’d track her down again. Everything at his own pace.
PK took this chance to walk along the stony roads that led from shop to shop. There was still some sort of festival or something going on (which, truthfully, still agitated our little black Kecleon); there were often celebrations thrown together for any sort of occasion that popped into the festivities planners’ heads. What better way to attract visitors (and money) than to always have good times planned into the schedule? PK couldn’t really think of any. It was why she had realized what a good chance it had been to organize Sorbet’s party...
Sorbet’s party for a made up birthday. There was no way, absolutely none, that it could have really been his birthday. She didn’t really want to question it, but did want to know why he had lied about it. After dodging the question a few times he finally answered that everyone needed a reason to get together and enjoy each others’ company. It was as close to an admittance as she would get, she figured. Of course, it had been a lot of work and planning, and as such she had forgotten her own very real, not made up birthday until the day of destruction had arrived. It wasn’t a giant deal, as birthdays come and go every year, she knew, but it was simply the disastrous cherry to a terrible cake (if such a thing could exist).
Not really paying attention to the course her feet had started her on, she realized that she had migrated from the main roads and had started toward the beach. And why not? She hadn’t gotten to feel the squishy sand or foamy water beneath her toes for long enough that it was hard to really recall the sensation. And besides, being out in the open air and walking some had helped to quell her queasy belly. She felt a little better with each step. Sometimes it was hard to remember that just keeping moving could make you feel better.
So she moved toward the ocean. There was something of interest, a white and yellow speck, out floating on the water. She moved closer. There were plenty of Pokemon playing along the beach itself, running around and tossing balls and participating in every other jovial activity you could imagine taking place over the sand. There were groups of them in clusters in the first couple of waves, the safe ones. But this speck, it was further out than the others. It was in the section of water which was generally unsafe for the general populace, for the fact that you might be bitten by a Sharpedo or stung by a Tentacool and drowned. It was usually easy to spot them in the shallow water, but in the deep parts...
Ignoring everyone else, and everyone else ignoring and avoiding PK, she made her way to the edge. She had no idea why curiosity would drive her so, but it did. Squinting to lessen the glare off of the beautifully clear and reflective waves, she finally was able to make out the shape. It was a Pelipper. Well, that explained that. Pelipper were great at catching fish, so...
Well, that’s kind of boring, she thought. I was kind of hoping there’d be... what? I don’t know. I don’t know what I was hoping to find out there.
Mildly defeated at her unsatisfactory find (and bored at that), PK sat down on the wet sand. Occasionally, the water would rise up to meet her toes. After a couple of minutes, she decided that high afternoon was a fine time to be sunbathing. She adjusted her position mindfully of her tail and laid down on her back. Her little back fins and head frills dug into the malleable sand. Like most days in Alomomola City and its surrounding beach, it was a cloudless day, happily allowing PK to catch the sun’s rays uninhibited.
This might have been the end of the story, and it might have concluded with PK having nothing more to do with that fellow she left behind and eventually patching things up herself, but that’s not how fate decided things would go. Nope, not at all! Fate had more months of heart wrenching indecision planned out for our dimmed guild leader. Why don’t we go listen in on one of the reliable future diviners of the city to get a good grasp on the situation?
Rhythm floated along the water’s surface, on the brink of falling back into his nap. He’d had a good fill today and had become sleepy. Pulse had swum away before he’d begun to feed for the afternoon, saying she had business to take care of elsewhere. This was all fine and good for him! Pelipper needed their energy to make long flights. Him especially! Yes, he needed enough food and rest to take mail all over the place. Alongside Archimedes, he was good at what he did. And besides, recently there’d been some sort of catastrophe in Tao, meaning Rhythm very much so needed his sleep. There was always a pile of mail to take to Archimedes; concerned parents or siblings who weren’t quite concerned enough to make a pilgrimage themselves, and so relied on Rhythm to do it for them. He would, but for now, he was going to just drift right back into sleep...
Right back into a lovely dream of... …
At that moment when a Pokemon is on the verge of sleeping, it becomes very easy to startle. So, when the little Luvdisc shot Rhythm right in his eye, he panicked and thrashed around, almost falling backwards into the water.
“Oh, oops! I just wanted to wake you up!” Pulse said, bobbing up and down in the water. “Come scoop me up anyway, I just got a premonition I think I need to share.”
Upon hearing his partner, Rhythm calmed down and righted himself. “Is it very far from here?” he asked. “I was kind of hoping to get in a little more shut eye.”
“Oh, um, actually it’s right...” Pulse said, and then turned around to face the shore, firing a shot of water out that way. “There. I just need to get to the sand.”
“Like on the sand? Is there someone on the sand or what?”
“Well, I mean, I think the Pokemon’s right along the edge, but I don’t really want to become beached, you know? It’d be like that one time when you dropped me and that one Empoleon almost ate me. I don’t really wanna repeat that, you know...?”
Rhythm nodded (or perhaps merely bobbed) and then dipped his giant maw into the water for her, his usual invitation. She entered swiftly and then Rhythm took to the sky. They had some work to accomplish, apparently. Pulse was one to be trusted. She was usually precise and accurate in her predictions. It was several times now that Rhythm had given him sound statements or warnings to tell his friends. The shock on their faces! “How did you know that?” and “Who told you about that?” were often the responses he would get the first time around. Eventually everyone he knew trusted Pulse’s love predictions.
It was really lucky for him (and the countless others she’d helped through the years) that he didn’t gobble her up during their first meeting. He had intended to, make no mistake about that. Why, being a Pelipper, he ate fish. That’s just how it was. But Pulse...
He was entirely set to swallow her and be done with one of his daily meals when she called out in his mouth. He couldn’t not listen to her, for, well, she was kind of inside of his head. Her words echoed inside of him, quite literally. She stopped him dead though with a few words about his current lover. All accurate advice, all dead-on (he would end up soon confirming), all about her betrayal and how long it’d happened beneath his very nose. Even if he’d wanted to, Rhythm found he felt physically unable to swallow her after she started babbling away about what would happen if he continued to ignore the situation with his girl. He had turned course to their nest and confronted the treacherous lady while Pulse swished around his mouth, listening in. The whole situation was vaguely painful to recall.
So, if Pulse said she had to dole out some advisory material to some misfortunate soul in need, Rhythm was ready to take her there. Wherever “there” was. It wasn’t often too far from the bay, but sometimes they made long trips together just to give someone a bad version of the future if they kept up their folly.
And sometimes, Pokemon would seek Pulse out. Her advice was more general when this was the case: it was when she felt compelled to seek someone out that her words were always genuine. As it had turned out, she was seeking Rhythm when he had first almost eaten her...
Oh well. It only took a minute or so of flying before Pulse shot in the direction Rhythm was to land. He chose a spot away from most of the visitors on the beach so Pulse could more easily lead him in the right direction. He was ready to start hopping along the beach when she peered above his jaw and shot the spot next to a dull something. Was it a Kecleon? What an odd color, might as well be dead, he thought absentmindedly.
“That the one, then?” he asked. He always felt a little bad trying to talk with Pulse in his mouth because it kind of felt like he was always gargling with her. Thanks to this and thanks to carrying so much extra water for his passenger, his words always came out at least somewhat garbled. She usually understood him anyway.
“Yeah, that girl over there,” Pulse said.
Girl? Huh. Well, okay. Rhythm wasn’t one to judge. He hopped right over. The closer he got, the harder it was to believe the Kecleon was even still alive. Eventually he caught her chest rising and falling steadily, and then Pulse popped up to take a look, herself.
Together, she and Anana had been walking the shoreline in silence. Anana had probably been expecting her to talk. She wasn’t stupid, she knew when Payapa was in a bad mood. So, she remained quiet, waiting for her sister to speak. Payapa knew that much. She knew it was her turn to talk, and that she’d have to bare her feelings about the situation. Well, it wasn’t required, but if she was try to pretend she was close to her sister at all, she would have to be honest about this issue at the very least. Perhaps Anana could sense it? At the very least, Anana could sense that she needed to be patient and say nothing for now.
Payapa went to open her mouth and her sister looked over expectantly. Payapa closed her mouth again. Anana looked back toward the sand after the false alarm. They continued to walk on in silence.
Would this change anything? Some terrible feeling in her heart, her very core, said yes. That might be why-- no, it was definitely why she’d avoided talking to Anana lately. The whole situation was set up so that neither of them would come out of it happy. Isn’t that how it seemed? Set up? Of course it wasn’t, but...
And then in a daze, Payapa saw Anana’s shocked face of disbelief, that heavily wounded look that ran deep below the surface, that look that only Payapa herself could bring forth. That real leer of contempt that cut her deep, but not as deeply as it could have. Payapa had been right to distance herself from that traitor. She had been right and her sister was...
It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair! No, she’d escape from this situation. Her family be damned, she didn’t give a Rattata’s ass.
Finding the snake, she...
…
...was drenched? What?
PK sat up and blinked heavily, holding her dripping limbs out, dumbfounded and confused. Had a wave crashed over her or something? It didn’t seem like that was the case, but maybe it was and she just hadn’t woken up ‘til now. Huh.
“Hey girl!” a piercing voice cried. “Hey girl, over here!”
PK wasn’t even cognizant of the fact that she was being talked at until she got a shot of water to the side of the head. She turned to her right and her lagging mind finally figured out that it wasn’t a wave that’d been her assailant, it had been this Pelipper.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
It stood there, wings folded. Without moving its mouth, it miraculously started to talk again. “You might wanna hear me out. I have something to tell you.”
PK was a little weirded out by this display, though certainly there had been weirder occurrences than a Pelipper who could pull a ventriloquist act. “I’m not really interested.” PK shifted her weight and crouched so that she might stand in a moment’s notice if this oddball didn’t soon leave her alone. “I’m a little busy.”
“No, I don’t think you get it! C’mere, I got something to say! About love, please, listen to me,” the little voice cried.
PK eyed the seabird with suspicion. Was this some trick? “I don’t need any advice. Thanks, but, well, I’m fine.” She stood up, wiping the wet sand from her back and legs as best she could. It was probably time to either find a ride back to Tao or to start walking. Had Barty gotten a little Drifloon encampment set up over here yet? Maybe it was time to take a look.
She had started to walk away from the receding waves when she noticed the Pelipper hopping alongside her. She wasn’t easily intimidated, but this bird’s peculiar behavior was making her feel rather uncomfortable. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face ...it? Him? Her? Whatever. She had never been really good at identifying a bird’s sex. “Could you just leave me alone? I won’t hesitate to kick your ass if you give me a reason.”
The poor messenger hopped away from PK in alarm. Again, it spoke in that off, slightly echoed voice. The more she thought about it, the more it didn’t sit right with her. “I think it would do you well, very well, to listen. You want to make the right choice, don’t you? You have a choice between two, right?”
PK felt the food sickness washing over her once more. Her mouth went dry, and when she spoke, it was just over a whisper. “Choice?” Perhaps she’d been caught off guard by the bird. Normally predictions were a load of garbage and she knew such. She’d seen a fortune teller herself in this very city some years ago, and those visions were all...
…hm. She couldn’t actually remember, but they were probably all generic and vague noise. Emboldened by this memory, she spoke up. “Choice? The only choice right now is for me to get outta here and head home. I don’t have time for this crap.”
“Please, make some time! I think you’ll regret it! Listen, listen, okay? You’re from a village. You run a village, I think. Is that right? Anyway, listen, the fate of that place rests with you. I think. I don’t even know why I should be saying this, it doesn’t seem to have to do with a--”
“Big deal! So you recognize me or something. Stop trying to spook me.” PK had had enough of this stupid game.
“No no, please! Don’t go with the flow here. Playing it easy isn’t going to work. Choose the health of the village, that’s what will make your love situation work. Love for the village!” And with this exclamation, a pink blur bopped itself against the roof of the bird’s beak. Just what the...?
Oh, of course, something in its mouth. PK remained indignant, nonetheless. “Okay? I’m not stupid. I can handle my own relationships, I know what the hell’s best for my own village. Got it?”
The Pelipper leaned downward to give the inner resident a better view of its surroundings. PK was given a look at her true conversation partner: a small Luvdisc. Once the water finally stilled, the little fish resumed its warning. “It won’t be your village anymore if you don’t patch things up.”
Patch things up? She’d been working tirelessly for half a month now, doing just that! “You’re kinda getting on my nerves. Do you even know how hard I’ve been working? Probably not. You don’t know me, so you can just beat it. Seriously.”
The little psychic was undeterred. “If you pick the wrong one, you’ll lose practically everything you care about. Do you really want that?”
“You’re not scaring me.” PK marched along the boardwalk back toward the restaurant plaza and the ongoing festivities.
“Well, I wish I was, “ it replied. The bird continued its stupid hop after her for the benefit of the Luvdisc. “This is important.”
“Just shut up. Leave me alone.” This was getting agitating. She was starting to itch for a fight, knew she would take the chance if they provoked her further.
Incredulously, it wasn’t finished preaching ambiguous drivel. “If you must, just pick what’s best for the village. That’s the right path to avoid the disastrous outcome I see for you.” It must have finally detected how incensed PK had become, for it sunk back into the maw’s reservoir. Shortly after, the prophet’s live carriage took to the sky and PK was alone once again with only her garbled thoughts as company. Groups of Pokemon walked around her as they headed to, or from, the beach. Just as well; she might have picked a fight if any one in particular got too close. No one made such a mistake. She continued navigating through the city, heading toward the west entry road.
Choice? There was no choice to be made. She was doing what she could, and that was all she could do. Twigs, as unapproachable as he might have seemed, was at the very least helping her out so she could run the village and rebuild it into something great, something amazing. Her anger at him had subsided a little after her short nap, and instead was directed at that idiot, prattling Luvdisc.
It was a little bizarre, she admitted. Not every day did a fish offer its supposed psychic love advice. PK had never much been one for relying on others to dictate her future, and she wasn’t about to start now. But... huh. It almost sounded like, hm. Was she really playing it easy, taking Twigs’s help? It was absurd to suggest she might lose the village over it, however. It was, well, it was almost applicable advice, if a little vague. But, someone had to be playing a trick. Maybe Anana had paid someone off. This seemed the more likely course. In fact, it made too much sense when she thought about it.
Anana had probably arranged for Pokemon to spy on her and Twigs. She was probably still jealous. She probably wanted PK to stop seeing him at all. That... had to be. Anana was very likely letting her envy consume her (isn’t that how their sisterly rift had started?), and it was just too probable that she’d gotten a hack to recite some phony vision of the future at PK.
Well, she wasn’t going to fall for it. No sir. She’d outsmarted Anana and would continue to do so.
Lose the village... what a stupid thought. PK was only semi-aware of her path, letting her feet’s memory guide her course out of the city. She continued on her way for perhaps an hour or two (it’s difficult to say how long with much accuracy, as daydreaming often twists time in strange ways). Pokemon traveled between Tao and Alomomola not infrequently, so PK wasn’t surprised to pass some villagers she recognized whenever she happened to look up. Though, she was surprised to hear the sound of a carriage approaching. She didn’t at first realize what it was until the rumbling of hooves got close enough that she looked around to ensure she wouldn’t be trodden upon. That the pair of Zebstrika slowly come to a halt along the dirt path was entirely unsurprising, however. Why? Well, Twigs was in the carriage they drew, so it was of course that they should be destined to stop next to her. It wasn’t very hard to find her, and she knew it wouldn’t be. The path between the ruined village and the bustling city wasn’t really concealed by any extensive brush or surrounded by many trees. It was mostly open plains thinly divided by the worn dirt trail from thousands of feet over time.
PK deliberated. She probably wasn’t going to make it back to Tao for several hours, for her pace had been slow. She knew it would be; she didn’t feel very well and, besides, she had much to consider. Walking alone was always a fantastic way to probe a muddled mind, but it wasn’t very likely to help speed up her gait. Perhaps an hour had been enough, perhaps she’d allow him to take her back home. There was really no good reason not to let him do so at this point. All of her thoughts and walking daydreams had pointed to Twigs being the answer to her many problems. Her doubt about him had started to melt after her strange beachside encounter. If Anana didn’t want them to work out for whatever reason, then well, it was probably something PK was supposed to go for. That had mostly sealed the deal. After working it out in her head during the walk, everything seemed to fall into place.
“So,” she said. “I see you’ve finally caught up.”
“Yes. I finished my meal at my leisure and then left. I presume you’d fancy a ride?” Twigs licked his lips in that particular way any sated feline does after an especially fine and savory meal. “Come, get in.”
She did just that.
Relief. This was the only word, the only thought, on Malt’s mind as PK appeared from beyond the striped drapes marking the entrance (and simultaneously, the exit) to the hut. Malt had been in the middle of marking off tasks that had been completed for the day when she arrived. He was happy to set aside his to-do list in order to check on her, how her day had gone, if she had fun, etc. He had hoped she might regain a bit of her lost sheen if she simply took a day off to enjoy herself. No such luck here, apparently. She looked more exhausted and weary than she’d been at the start of the day. What on earth was the matter? He had to know. What went wrong along the way?
It seemed that she intended to simply head to bed without speaking to Malt. It couldn’t have been later than six or seven in the evening, but she only ever started up the stairs to retreat to her room and sleep. That had been the procedure since Malt had started helping her fix things around the place. PK would work all day around the village, ordering Pokemon around, managing and overseeing projects, and... hardly sleeping. So Malt knew that when she was retiring to her room, it was for that precious (and hard to come by) sleep. He didn’t want to bug her, but at the same time he had to at least make sure there wasn’t anything wrong that he couldn’t fix before the next day had arrived...
“Hey, PK?”
She stopped on a broken stair, didn’t return his look. “What?” she spoke sharply.
Malt had grown used to her erratic moods and mostly did a pretty good job at buffering himself from any harsh words, but he really had been betting on her returning in a better mood. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what he’d been expecting, and so his guard had been lowered (a mistake indeed!)--thus causing her tone to cut through him quite easily. He lost resolve to continue his thought, to share his concern, leading him to abandon the conversation early. He’d save it for the morning when the early sun might do its trick and help restore her mood. That’s just what he would do.
“Er, nothing. I just remembered. Sorry bout it, g’night.”
She stood there for just a beat longer, and Malt figured she was deciding whether or not to reply. She chose to bite her tongue and hold back, continuing up the stairs wordlessly.
Malt became incredibly uneasy. Despite being practical, he had a pretty good intuition about others. Working in the trade business, it was important to hone good Pokemon observation skills and to go with your gut feeling. He knew that both PK and Shroomsworth usually had a great sense about others and their intentions from the start. Sometimes it failed them (as Palette would attest), but overall they together made a lot of accurate judgments. The importance in observation of others was often the first lesson they would administer to any newbies joining the guild, and from time to time it had helped the guild leaders weed out the dishonest joinees looking for a quick and easy heist.
So, Malt was certain that PK would have had an unfavorable opinion of Twigs when he’d first shown up in the ruins of the hut. Malt’s base feeling was that this fellow would hold back his true intentions until it served him best. He didn’t want to be biased or discriminatory or anything, but Persians (especially those with money) were often known for just that behavior. It seemed that Meowth and Persian were prone to growing up really selfishly if not raised in precise conditions.
His surprise was unimaginable when PK announced, not too long after her sister had left and taken the “guard” Bagon with her, that she-
(yes, she, PK!)
-was going to go on a date with the aforementioned Persian. Malt was truly taken aback; why, what insane deception was underway? Especially so soon after she had cried over the loss of her former partner? Nothing quite added up, and PK herself wouldn’t really speak of it after that point. And not even days later, he had tracked her down in the forest and found her delusionally talking to herself about Sorbet and Shroomsworth. It was clear she still mourned and wished for his return, and yet... yet she still had immediately decided to go out with this fellow who set off all the wrong sorts of bells and whistles in Malt’s head.
This... this fellow of whom Malt had heard very little before arriving in the village on the day of the disaster.
This fellow who had given PK a ludicrous amount of “spare change” to help with improvements and expansions for the village, so that it might become a town (though Malt wasn’t supposed to have known who gave her the money, he knew anyway, as he wasn’t stupid).
This fellow who had caused PK to look worse than she had in ages.
It was decided. Malt was going to make PK talk to him about the situation. As her assistant guild leader, he deserved at least the truth about the finances, even if he already knew where they were coming from. From there, he would try to coax more out of her. Slowly, but surely. He didn’t want her going any more crazy than she already had, and so he suspected that the only real measure was to try to get her to examine the situation for herself. If he said the wrong words, she’d undoubtedly turn on him. He had to at least make sure this Twigs guy was the source of her anguish before confronting anyone or raising any issues. That was important. If she could see for herself what was bothering her, it would do her a lot more good than letting advice fall flat. He knew this about her, at the very least. She had to know things for herself; hearing from others was never good enough.
Malt picked back up his to-do list and started writing out more tasks. He would at least busy his hands while his mind ticked away at more pressing issues.
The rusty, stripe-adorned case was dropped at PK’s feet. Marble had found it while she and Mica were thoroughly examining the ground beneath the slab which had previously supported the village’s fountain. There had been no piping, no water source. How the fountain managed to run all these years was a complete mystery to everyone, even PK. Her parents might have known the secrets behind the ever-running thing, but it was broken now. She had already ordered a new fountain to be brought in this very day from a sculptor out in Alomomola. There had been a smaller, temporary fountain put in place of the old one for a bit, just so she could get an estimate on the size of the new one she wanted and... it had miraculously started to spout water. No hookups, just water seemingly from thin air. It was extremely chilled, as the fountain’s water always had been even on the hottest of days. And today, the new one was being delivered and the temporary fountain was being removed and sent away. Since this was the case, the construction workers (unable to really grasp that there might have been some odd magic at work) decided to take one more peek beneath the cool slab of stone that had always served as the base for the previous fountain. They had dug and dug, and right at the center beneath the fountain’s base had been this old box. It was missed the first time, but luckily Marble caught it this time.
It looked rather old, but was free of any dents. It was probably once a vibrant green, now faded to dull and old paint, with rust spots breaking through in little blemish patches. A rich red stripe lined the middle of the box long-ways, in a fashion very similar to her own stripe. It was rather obviously Kecleon-inspired. Long past the need or want for money, the notion simply did not strike PK that it might contain anything immediately useful. She called for Malt and had him stick it next to the safe (which had crashed down to the first floor of the hut during the rampage, but that PK had insisted be returned to its rightful spot in her chamber as soon as the upper floor was again made stable). Malt obligingly did as she bade and then returned to his own work. He had been acting weird since her return from her trip to the bay, which had only occurred two days prior... though, working so hard brought on a sort of time distortion effect and made the little reprieve feel aeons ago.
Right now, her mind was on the village.
She had employed some guild members to lead water from Tao River all the way around the village as a little moat. Water was nice, rivers were calming, so it only made sense to put one around her village. It would definitely help everyone’s mood, and the heavens knew that was badly needed for many families around the area. It was rather difficult to look a good handful of them in the eyes; a great deal of them had suffered friends being dealt handicapping--if not mortal-- blows during the attack. Even if no one directly said such (if you didn’t count the nasty muttering that would quickly find its end as she neared), it was hard not to feel responsible for it all. This was absurd, and she knew it, for she hadn’t been the one to cause Sorbet to lose his sanity for a brief, yet insanely devastating, time. No, she had stopped him! He wasn’t in his right mind and she knew this, she knew it at the time, she knew it during, and it was confirmed afterward. But that didn’t stop the talk. That didn’t stop everyone from thinking horrible things, she knew they were thinking these horrible things. It was in their eyes, their faces, the little awkward steps they took. She couldn’t be convinced otherwise, despite the growing number of sympathetic Pokemon who tried to talk to her. So, she kept herself busy.
Maybe they’ll forgive me in time, she thought. She didn’t really believe it though, not really. Maybe if I can do enough for everyone, I won’t feel so broken.
So she decided a memorial should be built to at least honor those who protected this quaint village, equally as broken as she. She put it to her mind to let Malt know immediately that they needed a lot more nevermeltice, as she had an idea already on how it should look. Something that wouldn’t fade with time, that would remain glittering and beautiful like each of the lost souls in everyone’s hearts.
Her own heart skipped a beat and her snowy thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, one that had haunted her dreams for a short interval in what seemed like years ago. It was Palette (there no mistaking the Zoroark with the globs of paint always trickling from her hair), and she immediately cut off her chatter when PK looked up. Devonshire was directly in front of her, with his back turned to PK, and apparently she had been conversing with him moments ago. PK knew that Palette was actually alive and had known ever since that exhausting morning when Shroomsworth had told her such. Told PK that her death count (or rather, murder count? if not, then perhaps assisted murder count?) was still at one, and had narrowly avoided becoming two. So was it really any wonder at all that PK’s body went numb and her legs started to liquefy in the face of these two?
Devonshire turned toward the Merchant’s hut and its owner, revealing a perfectly stoic expression. It was always so hard to tell what he was thinking, which was a big part of why she never wanted to deal with him. A customer you can’t read is a customer who might be taking as he pleases and giving away no evidence of his misdeeds. That’s what her dad always said, and her dad never liked doing business with this fellow. She also hated it, herself, though she didn’t particularly fear him. Ghosts had never much bothered or startled her, and Devonshire was no exception.
His eyes shone for a moment. “Miss PK, I have a proposition for you. I encourage you to hear me out before declining,” he said without so much as opening his mouth. “Dear Palette here is without a home, you see, and I think it would be very much in your interests to allot a plot of land for her.” He motioned to Palette, both drawing attention to her and causing her to avert her gaze from PK.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. There was plenty of land out near the forest that she could spare, and that would be fine if--
“In the village itself,” he added.
She was dumbfounded, and besides that, she was trapped. She wanted to protest, wanted to personally control any building that was going to be set up in the heart of her village, but knew this was an argument she wasn’t really going to win.
“But not without compensation, of course,” he further continued. “I do understand that you have a business to run and cannot just hand over valuable pieces of land.” He laughed. “I understand that very well!” He surely must have been referring to the fact that he actually owned his building and a bit of land in a small circumference around it. It was a deal that had been made over a century ago, before her grandparents had been born even, with the first Kecleon to settle the land. There had been no other deal quite like it until PK had sold Chill only the biggest tree in the village, not the land around it. Well, there was also the whole mess where half of the village had been controlled by Twigs’s family at one point... but that wasn’t quite the same as the deal currently being proposed.
PK wasn’t in a spot to refuse Devonshire and he knew it. Knew it quite well. And still, he was offering to pay a nice penny, despite that he easily could have gotten away without doing so. After all, that had been one of the (very, very few) things she regretted -- accusing an innocent Palette. It had inspired mixed reactions, from fear of having Devonshire’s gaze fall upon unsuspecting victims, to anger at PK for causing such an untimely fate to befall the painter. She had not a clue that Palette couldn’t have been the Zoroark that had caused the brief troubles; PK could only recall her anger from a couple years ago at the illusions Palette had used to try to con her out of money. Palette was just unfortunately the first illusionist to come to mind. PK had no idea that Devonshire had a much better grasp of the overall cause and of the culprits than she, nor was he really willing to share that knowledge until it befit him. It finally had, and he had spoken to her a little of it during their walk back to Tao after the disaster.
The bottom line was simply that Devonshire could have arranged for Palette to have a choice home for free, if he had really wanted to. There was certainly enough sympathy and empathy flowing for the poor girl that it would have drowned PK had she let it. She would not, however, and she would give Palette her stupid house.
PK found the strength in her legs alongside the resolve to end this quickly and get back to work. “I get it. There’s no more room inside my planned moat area, but there’s space just outside of it. That’ll have to do,” she said. “That’s as much as I can spare.”
This was enough for Devonshire. He broke into one of his infamous grins. “It’s all very well then. Either you can come to my office later, or I can return here to work out details. Sooner, rather than later. Time’s very short right now, and who knows when it shall run out?” he said, taking some horrid delight in such an ominous phrase. Even if Devonshire was being fair in offering her any money at all in exchange for the plot, this didn’t make him any less creepy than he always had been, intentional or not. She would stop by later, go over the paperwork, be done with it.
“I’ll swing by later,” PK said. “I need to take care of a couple of things first.”
He shrugged and left the area with the not-so-dead Palette. PK exhaled relief. Palette made her extremely uncomfortable. It wasn’t often that a supposedly dead “criminal” returned fully alive and completely innocent. Usually it was either one or the other--or neither-- as Gnasher had proven. But, even Gnasher had apologized for things he did... PK had heard as much from Rhodes. Even that despicable guy had tried to put his past behind him and make better of himself. It was incredible. No, like, actually incredible--in the sense that PK didn’t believe it for a moment until she talked to Gnasher herself.
...only to find out that he really did seem as sorry as was feasible for such an arrogant ghost. It was quite a wonder, and with a pang of sorrow in her heart, wished Shroomsworth could see the change for himself.
She pondered this for several more minutes before the call of Malt’s voice rang through to her. She decided that he could wait, and walked off toward where Palette disappeared to go apologize herself.
Shortly after PK and Palette had a heart-to-heart, she made her way to Devonshire’s office below his building. As he went over the paperwork and presented the sum to her, she thought back to visiting this same office weeks ago. How woefully easy it had been to remove any mention of her ex-partner from all paperwork, to erase his very existence in the village! It... ah... nevermind. Best not to think of such things.
She asked if Devonshire had seen or heard from Candy since the discoverance of the bodies in the dump, to which Devonshire once more replied that no, he had not, and that he would mention it to her first thing should he come upon anything to do with the missing fellow. He further mentioned that Chex and Ivory should be done soon with clearing the area (free of charge, even!), and that the dump would be open to whatever she had in mind for it after that.
PK very much so wanted to find candy and strangle him, herself, for causing even more problems during a troubled time. She reconsidered upon realizing that she did not actually know if Candy had actually killed a bunch of Pokemon or not, and did not wish to point fingers without concrete evidence. Again. Devonshire’s presence ensured she did not forget this shameful lesson.
Malt had woken early that day to get a head start on the workload before him. There was always a lot, and there would always be a lot left to do for at least another few weeks, but they were getting there. That steady trickle of progress was important. Best of all was that it turned out that he didn’t need to talk to PK at all after her mini-vacation; her mood had gradually lifted and he had even spotted her talking to Palette a few days prior. That was a gigantic improvement as far as he was concerned. Smiles were more frequent and it seemed like at least part of her burden had been removed. That was good. That was great!
Aside from such, she had presented plans to him for a memorial. He thought this especially touching, but dared not say so. She still snapped if he commended her for being compassionate in the least. He had tried to express how happy he was that she did her best with the Palette situation (going so far as to give the two artists land even, for all their troubles!), and she had simply gotten snippy with him. So he changed the subject. All would be well with time, he knew, but he still wished with all of his heart that she would just open up a little. He wanted to encourage her, but her well of words dried up any time he had tried.
So... it was relieving that her mood was gradually fixing itself, that her color was gradually restoring itself, even if he wasn’t able to fully express himself yet. It was just a matter of time, of waiting it out.
In that same matter, he thought to himself that he might send a letter to Shroomsworth after enough time had passed. He had badly wanted to speak to the ex-leader right after everything had come crashing down, but did not out of fear that he would exacerbate the situation. Malt was patient if anything, and would wait for the right moment.
And who knew? Maybe the situation would fix itself without his meddling; maybe time truly was the healer of all. And it’s not like they’d ever be short on that, right? Time was always plentiful, the only unlimited resource.
Pleasant thoughts of a better future drifted lazily around Malt’s head as he exited the hut (which was coming along nicely) when a familiar sound crept into range of his hearing. It was a rolling tremor; Malt didn’t have to look to the east to spot the carriage’s passenger, for he already knew who the visitor would be.
PK was surprised: she had forgotten, it seemed. It wasn’t very like her to forget appointments or obligations. She was usually punctual for any arrangements. But somehow she had forgotten that she was supposed to go with Twigs for another day in the bay. Or, that’s what Malt seemed to be telling her. She was rather groggy, and by the light outside, she judged it to be approximately 5 or 6AM. She finally had been getting better rest, so it irritated her a smidgen that it might be ruined by someone other than herself.
...though if she really had forgotten she was supposed to go out today, then scratch that: her sleep had been ruined by her own forgetfulness, as much as she wanted to blame it on an increasingly agitated Malt.
“So, what’s going on?” Malt demanded. She didn’t enjoy his tone, it was a tad harsher than she liked. “Are you going to skip out on today, then? There’s a lot to do, and I don’t really know what you want done with that missionary or the memorial and that sculptor guy’s supposed to be coming out here. I don’t know what I’m doing, so I really don’t think it’s a great idea for you to just up and disappear for the day. Y’know?” he said, a slight panic creeping into his voice. “I can’t handle this stuff myself. I really don’t know what you want done, and it’s hard for me to explain it to them when I don’t have a good grasp on the situation. So...”
She rubbed her eyes, blinked wearily, and then slowly stumbled out of bed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the real issue Malt had here. He simply didn’t know how to be a leader. He didn’t seem to care as much about her doing her own thing as he cared about having to lead others blindly. Which was, in all actuality, ridiculous; her plans were pretty concise and her instructions were usually very clear and dry. The only difference here if she went out is that Malt would be reading the instructions instead of PK expertly recalling them from her etched memory. He was a smart guy, he’d be able to infer the right choice out of anything that was left vague.
...then it slowly struck her that she really never did forget obligations, appointments, or arrangements. Even in the fog of the past month, she had been very good about that, not letting her despair entirely consume her. Nope! She’d fought it back. This seemed entirely incorrect: that as she felt better she would forget something as important as being gone for an entire day, let alone not even mention it to Malt, her biggest help.
“Malt, I don’t know, stop talking. Let me see what’s up,” she said, pushing her way past him. She descended the curved flight of stairs, stepped over the one step that was still broken, and strode outside to greet their early morning visitor. Malt followed suit.
Twigs was perched atop a royal purple plush pillow, paws crossed on the open window, waiting patiently in his exquisite little roofed carriage. It was prettier than the one he had ridden in on during his previous trip. Two Zebstrika stood, silent and watchful sentinels tethered to the front of the carriage. She guessed it had been the same two from before.
Twigs was the first to speak. “Let us be off, darling. You can nap on the way, if you’d like. You don’t look quite rested.”
That wasn’t gonna fly. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here. Now that I think about it, we never set up another date. At all. March your pretty ass back home, cause I got work to do. I can’t blow this off.”
“Darling, I know you have work to do, which is why I told Chisel you’d be out today and to come back tomorrow.”
“You WHAT?”
“He was grateful that I saved him a useless trip. He hates his time being wasted, you know. I was a mere five minutes late once--at my very own villa, mind you--and took quite a scolding from this fellow. Tardiness ruins his muse, he says. We can’t have that, can we?”
PK felt herself flush from anger, and as it worked its way up and up, a headache was crawling along that same path. It took incredible self-control to not break into a scream, and she silently commended herself for this achievement. She wanted to talk. Calmly.
But this wasn’t going to be the reality so long as Twigs kept running his mouth, so she simply swirled 180 degrees and abandoned their conversation for the sake of saving it.
Malt stood just inside the hut, apparently waiting to hear what the day’s fate would be. In the dim light it took him a moment to realize she was near glowing with fiery agitation, as opposed to the gloomy variant that had been claiming her, a dark mist invading the mind. As much as he didn’t like seeing his leader upset, he found a touch of relief in the familiarity, in the type of irritation. This was so close to being normal, to being right again.
Malt spoke carefully. “So I take it there’s been a misunderstanding then, huh?” He felt a little bad for so quickly assuming that she really had neglected to tell him something important, but a sort of panicked stage-fright had gripped him when he thought at all that he might have to direct the entire village’s proceedings for a day. He just couldn’t stomach the idea of being a sole leader, and in his scare, had forgotten to question the validity of Twigs’s claim. He wanted to crack a joke about the situation, but found himself coming up short.
“Yeah, something like that,” she muttered. “I think he thought... well, I don’t know, that’s not important. He told Chisel not to come here today. Without my consent, of course. So we’re down a sculptor for today’s ‘stuff to be done’ list. Guess we’ll just have a freakin' giant piece of ice sitting at the south end of town, huh? Suppose it’s no worse than all the piles of stuff we still have lying around.” She stopped to consider. “Oh, today’s the dump day, isn’t it? I hope we can get that plot all cleaned up and nice this week... I mean I know the bodies’ll be gone, but it still smells kinda bad, and we have to get all that trash gone. For Vertigo’s sake, anyway. I still can’t believe Candy’s missing...”
Happily, he noted that her temper was slowly burning out as she changed topics. “Yeah. I was going to try and get extra done today. I’m pretty sure most of the...well, I think Ivory and Chex have finally taken most of the questionable stuff from the dump area, actually. Today was the day to send all the rest of the waste out to the facility near the bay, and then we were going to get some flowers and stuff to try to make the place smell nice before turning it into the new spot for the café. And speaking of flowers, we might want to start planting trees and flowers around the village and in the forests, because they’re seriously just all dying. I arranged for the construction workers to get to take most of them away as some payment for their services, but...”
“Dying... yeah, I thought so. Okay, after we finish with the village, we’ll plant a bunch of stuff. I guess we have to do at least that much. Maybe we can turn it into something fun. And flowers in the dump, huh?” she asked. Malt nodded, and she continued, “I hope they work, and I hope the smell fades before too long. I don’t want to wait ages to have the place built,” she added. She put her tiny hands against her hips and looked down, apparently in thought.
“So, what’s the deal with Twigs?”
“I’m thinking,” she responded. “I’m certain, I just know I didn’t set anything up last time. I’m trying to remember if I might have promised him something when he first showed up, but my memory’s foggy. It’d be really annoying if I said something like ‘Sure, I’ll go out with you a week after the first date, too!’ or something equally dumb like that, but I really don’t think I did.” She looked back up at him. “That leaves me in a tough spot. I don’t want to call him a liar in case I really don’t remember,” she said. Malt didn’t share that he felt Twigs was, in fact, a liar. Everything at its own pace, nothing without evidence.
Outside, Twigs had grown a tad impatient with his girl. She was taking longer than any girl should ever take to be on her way. He had said they should do this every week, and she had said she was busy. So he had arranged for all of her day’s work to be stalled so that she would have the day to spare. He considered himself incredibly thoughtful for pushing her obligations back for her so that she would not have to, herself! And here she was, not being nearly as prudent or timely as he had known her to be...
He silently hopped from his carriage, stifling any noise when he landed with his soft pads, and slid along the wall of the hut. It was considerably less shabby since the last time he had laid eyes on it, though really nowhere near as good as he felt was necessary for his girl. It would never be nice enough for her, not ever. By simply being within radius of this... pit, he felt it would slowly erode his capacity for class. He hated the place. He was glad to have nothing to do with it anymore. In his head, he thanked his girl for the good service she’d done him, even if it cost him years without her. He hunkered against the wall next to the door to eavesdrop as soon as he heard Malt speak up.
“... don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going out there today, even if there’s nothing much for you to be overseeing anymore. There’s always something else I could really use your assistance with.”
That stupid, unsophisticated hick of a cow, Twigs thought.
“Well, yeah, I know, but I should at least visit Chisel to explain what’s up. I think Mica mostly knows what types of things I need done today, and I already talked to the teams who are gonna be helping her out. That stuff can go on without me. Everything else kinda relied on Chisel coming here, so I just need you to tell everyone that’s off and we’ll be doing it tomorrow,” his girl said. She would come with him, and they would have a splendid time together, he knew it.
Twigs heard reluctant resignation in Malt and grinned. But as Malt spoke, his words grew more confident, and Twigs’s grin fell. “Listen PK, I just... I think that guy’s lying to you. I think he’s bad news, and I know you think you should deal with his crap because he gives you things, but that’s a load of bull.” A pause. “And trust me, I know bull.” Apparently this was meant to be comedic, for his girl gave a laugh. Absolutely outrageous.
“I know you... mean well,” she said, ”but it’s just more complicated than that. I’m doing what needs to be done for everyone, all right? Can’t you just...” she said, fumbling for words. Twigs could barely be said to be paying attention to the scene after that point. His mind turned to Malt’s fate, instead. The rest of the conversation rang hollow in his ears.
Eventually--soon enough, at that-- the conversation between the two merchants had finished. Twigs took this as a cue to return to his prior throne atop the pillow. He expertly posed in a matter of seconds in such a natural position that he might have been there for centuries. It was a trick that any cat worth its meddle learned as a kitten. He commenced lazily grooming his paw, both because it gave the appearance of idle boredom and because he really had dirtied his beautiful pads with the dust of this filthy village.
His girl reappeared from beneath the towering Kecleon building and marched over toward him. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I wasn’t busy today, or that you were correct in pulling any of the shit you’ve pulled.” Twigs regarded her anger with indifference. He would be correcting the situation before long, anyway. There was no need for him to get worked up.
“Why, I got that idea from you, darling. We talked about this last week.”
“Yeah?” she said, regarding him with cautious defiance, “cause I thought about that too, and I don’t think we did.”
“Are you certain?”
“Pretty damn certain.”
“You do not recall our conversation? Shortly after I picked you up, after our meal you know, I suggested we do this every week. You said we couldn’t because you had things planned. So, I rearranged your plans for you.”
And then the recollection must have taken her, he was sure of it. Now she would understand the favor he had done her, now that she remembered her predicament and could see how he had helped.
She shuffled on her feet, glared down at the ground and then back up before speaking. “That’s not really what I meant. It’s not okay to mess around with my work. It’s... never okay to do that.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “This isn’t going to work unless you get that. Okay?”
“Of course, darling. You should just be clear next time. I’m not a mind reader.”
She exhaled a sigh--or maybe it was closer to a huff--and then climbed into the other side of the carriage. He already knew that she had wanted to see Chisel, but knew it wasn’t a good idea to reveal that he’d overheard. Not a good idea if he wished to have her decide to mute Malt herself.
It hadn’t gone as badly as she feared it would, thank goodness. Chisel was very understanding of the whole situation and assured her that he would arrive the next day and stay until the memorial was completed. They further discussed details that would need to be double-checked upon Chisel’s arrival in the village. She told him of the list of deceased who lost their lives during the rampage, and he was confident in his ability to perfectly fit every name in an aesthetically pleasing manner inside the roof of the thing. Now that they finally had gotten a chance to meet face to face, he seemed equally as into the idea as his original letter reply had let on. She was glad for that. It was never any good to commission an artist who did not take to your idea right away; the end result was usually about on par with how much they cared about the project. It also helped that she actually had a good idea for the village monument. Nevermeltice was perfect, he had said, to symbolize the tragedy itself, but to also immortalize those lost. To put that ice in the shape of Kyurem’s tail was a great way to never forget, he had said. She didn’t mention how she got the idea from the altar that she had used to awaken Sorbet.
But, that was that. It was settled and things would go well now that she had both cleared the misunderstanding with Twigs and spoken to Chisel.
…she found this a reasonable assumption until they had arrived back in Tao, at least.
Before then, however, Twigs had taken her out to dinner yet again. PK found herself feeling more and more uncomfortable with every extra Poke that he showered on her. It seemed almost like nonsense; why should a Merchant be unhappy about free meals and free money? It was a dream that most of the villagers would never experience themselves, and here it was for her enjoyment and taking! Take she did, enjoy she did not and could not. She was trying. She was really trying to just enjoy the evening and accept that he continually offered to pay for about any expense there had been to be covered. She barely had to even touch her own cache of funds! She would have been utterly broke and unable to pay for the memorial if he hadn’t stepped in when he did, so she should have been grateful and happy!
And yet...
Perhaps what really held her back was that Every Single Thing she did not pay for felt much like a debt she now owed. It felt like there would be a delayed payment that she would have to make on her own behalf later, when she wasn’t at all expecting it. And what if she didn’t have enough? What if she couldn’t...?
But that was ridiculous... it wasn’t as if Twigs was really pouring his money into the mix just to make her cough up her own money later. He had enough funds to run his little villa in extreme comfort for the rest of his life . And past experience dictated that he was never interested in any lost goods. So, she should have been comforted. Should have, but was not.
She had this nagging feeling that her imaginary debt to him wasn’t accruing interest in the form of Poke, and that she would eventually have to pay up in one instant.
This feeling passed.
Twigs was waiting in the carriage for her. She had lagged behind a little in leaving the restaurant of choice (another meat-serving place that she wouldn’t ever mention to Malt), and cool rain came crashing down to the warm sand as she made her way to their shared ride. It didn’t rain often in Alomomola, but when it did, it was quick and hard. She climbed her way inside, dripping all over Twigs’s plush pillow. Not only that, but the wet sand stuck to her feet only to rub onto that same pillow (getting dirtier by the second, something Twigs no doubt hated). The carriage took off when she was securely within.
Instead of moaning or complaining at the unfortunate sullying of his expensive seat, he simply adjusted himself to be right next to her. Nearly brushing up against her, in fact. This was... this was way too close for comfort, and for a brief instant she started to panic that he was going to take her, taking all of his interest, collecting on that imaginary debt that grew with every additional gift he bestowed upon her... And she was not prepared to pay that. She knew her compatibilities, and she wanted absolutely no permanent ties with any other Pokemon, least of all a gods forsaken egg. Nope, no way, nuh uh.
It was to her surprise that he did not make a move, didn’t so much as speak interest on the topic. Instead, he placed a paw on her arm and started to... lick the side of her head. She was confused for just a moment before realizing that he was grooming her, licking the rainwater away.
To her further surprise, she found it quite all right. No... it was really pleasant. No, that still wasn’t right. She really, really enjoyed it. His tongue’s barbs itched and scratched her scales in one swift motion, over and over, sweeping along her frills. He made sure to thoroughly lick all of the funny angles along her head, missing none of the droplets in the process. Slowly working his way down her back, he moved his paw to push her down. It was hardly a gesture to be wary of or feared; it seemed mechanical, simply part of a procedure to change her position to make it easier on straining his neck. She allowed herself to be pressed to her side on the pillow, and he continued grooming along his course.
Suddenly she became aware that he might try to pull something now, or in the near future, after making her whole body so relaxed... and so she put her guard up. Boys could be funny like that, couldn’t they? They tried lots of bad and mean tricks if you didn’t keep a watchful eye on them. There would be no more breaking and entering; not now, not ever again if she could help it.
But as she waited, his insistence or forcefulness never came. She drifted in and out of sleep and he simply continued, even when they had been long out of the rain and her scales were bone dry. She didn’t mind this at all, of course, but if he did try anything, she’d definitely be ready and sock him one right good--
Except they were now in Tao. How long had it been? Had the journey really gone by so quickly...? Apparently so! The sky was dimming and the mostly rebuilt Merchants’ hut loomed over them. It was definitely later, and they were definitely in Tao.
Feeling a bit of greed wash over her, she invited Twigs in for a bit, hoping he might continue his tongue brushing and she might get a good night of sleep.
But then he said he couldn’t.
Then he said that Malt had made it clear that he didn’t want Twigs in the village, and so Twigs would respect her assistant’s wishes. He smiled sadly at her as he said this.
She was in disbelief, but then it turned to annoyance. A seed of resentment for Malt had planted itself somewhere inside her head. It wasn’t enough to actually confront him or to get angry over anything, but it was there, waiting for something (or someone) to help it gestate, grow, and blossom.
Purely the act of communicating with Malt would have displaced that little seed and stomped it out of existence, but she was finding it harder and harder these days to communicate with him or, really, with anyone. She hadn’t spoken to Rhodes much since the day her team got broken up. She gave him menial tasks sometimes, but he mostly kept himself busy. That was good. She felt a little bad for not approaching him a whole lot, but she didn’t want to burden his kid mind with adult problems. Same for Sandy.
And as far as Malt went.. she had no good excuse for not disclosing everything. She discovered, sadly, that it’s both easy and immediately gratifying to shut out those who genuinely care (despite how devastating it almost always would be for relationships in the long term). And so she had done just that. Then she would definitely be right and justified in thinking she was replaceable, forgettable, and alone.
So, she told Twigs she understood why Malt would ordain that, asked that he not take offense, and let him know that she would be delighted to meet him again next week for a day out.
“Look out below!”
This was the cue for a certain golden-ringed Deino to try and avoid water filled balloons from falling on her head. She did so (as best she could anyway, which meant she emerged a bit damp), and then waited for more instructions. However, Maple was already done playing that game. Her interest always hopped along many games and subjects; she never had time to stay in one place and do one thing, she was always on the move and thinking up more plans on how to conquer boredom. Sandy helped Maple a lot in these childish endeavors. It distracted them both from the more upsetting things in life.
Sandy heard Maple’s tiny, yet rapid, footsteps creaking the new ramp that their upgraded treehouse had received. Before the ramp had been installed, Sandy never got a chance to check out the Rescuers’ HQ. Now, it was something like a second home. Or maybe it was becoming closer to a primary home, to Sandy’s lament.
“All right I don’t really feel like playin’ that one anymore. Got any ideas? Maybe we should practice our band again... hmm I dunno.” Maple was often in the habit of having most of a conversation with herself before Sandy could interject. Not that Sandy minded much at all; listening to others was usually enough fun for her. Today, however, she was lost in thought, and Maple was apparently just observant enough to catch on.
She startled Sandy with a tiny poke on the nose from a single claw. “Ya there? Maple to Sandy! Maple to Sandy! C’mon!”
“I’m here.”
“Kay, so what’s up?” Maple asked. Slightly suspicious.
“What... do you mean? What game are we playing next?”
“Oh, y’know...” Maple paused. She resumed, speaking in a ridiculously honey-coated voice, “how about ‘Truth or Dare’? I learnt this one from my momma, but I ain’t never really gotten to play it with anyone besides Mike, and I already know all his secrets, so...”
Sandy had never heard of this game before. Actually, she hadn’t heard of most any games before leaving the castle and stumbling upon her friendship with Maple. “How’s it go?”
“Well, it’s pretty easy. No runnin around like a Torchic with yer head cut off or anything... not unless I dare you to anyway. Basically I say truth or dare and then you pick one!” Maple sounded immensely delighted with herself.
“And then what?”
“Oh, then I tell you something based on what you pick. See? Real easy!”
Sandy was a little more assured. “Okay. I think I can play that.”
“Sweet! Kay, uh, truth or dare!”
“Truth.”
Sandy couldn’t see it, but Maple smiled. “What’s gotten you acting so funny?!”
“Nothing!” Not much interested in being interrogated, Sandy took a couple steps back and tilted her head away from Maple. She decided she might go find something to busy herself with if this kept up.
“Oh you little LIAR! That’s not how you play truth or dare! You’re supposed to tell the truth! It’s in the name of the GAME, Sandy!” But Sandy was already trotting back to the hut across Tao, and Maple’s words were lost. “SANDY!”
In her clumsy haste, Sandy forgot to listen for anyone in the entrance of the Merchants’ Hut. Her oversight led to a collision with...
“Watch where you’re GOING-- Sandy? What are you doing?! Knock it off!”
Sandy stumbled backwards and fell right on her tush. She wasn’t sure things could get too much worse today, but didn’t want to push her luck. “Sorry. I was just playing with Maple.”
A silence fell over the two of them, and Sandy was just sure, just absolutely convinced she could feel the contempt oozing from the other’s pores and poisoning the atmosphere. “That’s nice. Watch where you’re going next time. Or, listen where you’re.... Or, whatever you do. Do that.”
Sandy heard PK walk past her, out toward the boundary of the village. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
Sandy’s chest started to compress, and a lump started to form in her throat and heart. She dumbly opened her mouth and did not speak.
She heard PK talk with that Dislikable Visitor and then slip away with the sound of many hooves on dirt. Sandy felt her legs all go wobbly when she tried to stand, felt warm rivulets trickle down her cheeks from those holes that, if you were normal, were supposed to help you see. A wall of thick, pungent (yet not entirely disgusting) scent hit her, and Maple was there in an instant. She quickly wiped Sandy’s cheeks with her tiny paws.
Sandy could hear and smell the activity of dozens of other Pokemon nearby (mostly Merchants--was that Rhodes, too?-- and she thought also a couple construction workers and Rescuers), but they were all simply background noise compared to her little Stunky friend.
“Sandy, stop being a liar. What’s the matter?”
Sandy made as if to look in the direction of the departed Pokemon, then stopped. Maple looked that way regardless, trying to grasp at anything that might hint at the cause of Sandy’s mysterious melancholy. All she saw was a tiny boxed carriage thing, quickly disappearing into the horizon.
Wait...
“Sandy! You better tell me what’s up with you ’n her! Stop playin’ dumb! I ain’t stupid!”
Sandy lowered her head and scrambled backwards, much like a scolded dog might do if caught in the middle of some distasteful act in the presence of its owner.
“Sandy!”
“What!”
“Just tell me what’s going on!” she demanded. With every stutter and pause from Sandy, Maple grew all the more impatient. However, being a rash little kid very much so wanting to help right now, she failed to consider that Sandy might want to be calmly talked to in a private setting instead of out in the open amongst many gazing eyes. Maple harrumphed and stomped right up to Sandy. “You’ve been acting so weird since... since our sleepover a couple weeks ago! Stop it! Just stop it!
“Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on! I’m getting tired of you being all mopey when we’re trying to play games and have fun! It’s really annoying and just... just stop!”
Sandy couldn’t have cowered any more; Maple had backed her into a corner. It was right at this time, though, that one of the spectators hopped in from behind to save Sandy from more of a talking-to.
“C’mon Maple, can’t you see you’re buggin’ her somethin fierce? Let it alone already...”
Maple whirled around and came face-to-face with a scarfed Sneasel, whom she recognized as one of the helpers around the shop and forest. “Yeah? Who’re you to tell me what for, huh? You don’t know nothing at all you... you stupid scarface! Just shut up and leave me alone!”
Rhodes cocked his head to the side and regarded Maple with the indifference of a wiser older brother who’s been through more in weeks than most go through in their whole lives. He didn’t really have it in him to get upset over immature jabs or petty fights; he just wanted to break up their little scuffle before Maple went too far and made Sandy too upset. Even though he was pretty certain he wasn’t as old as his fellow Merchant, he felt a bit like he was looking out for a younger sibling in that moment. He supposed he was doing just that.
“You’re makin her get real upset. I’m gonna have to kick you out of here if you don’t let it alone. I’ve never had ta kick anyone outta here before, but I learned enough from PK to know we don’t let fights happen in here, Maple. Got it? Cut it out.”
“You’re not my brother!” she screamed. “You can’t tell ME what to do!” She turned back toward Sandy with a huff and a stomp and started to tug on her furry mane. “Sandy! You and me are gonna go talk outside. Let’s go--”
Maple was cut off in one fell scoop from Rhodes; she suddenly found herself kicking and punching at the air, lifted up nearly over his head. “Put me DOWN!” she yelled. “You’re not my brother, you can’t make me do anything! He’s gone! Put me down you ugly buttface!”
Rhodes sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed at having to pacify a kid not much younger than he in the presence of a handful of Pokemon trying to go about their shopping in peace. Maple wouldn’t let up her thrashing and screaming the whole way to the entrance. For a brief moment, Rhodes was scared she would spray him in the hut and that he wouldn’t ever be able to get the smell out of his scarf (or the surroundings, something that PK would kill him for, he thought), but Maple didn’t resort to that, thank the gods. Sandy did, however, take the brief reprieve from Maple that Rhodes had granted her as an opportunity to flee up the stairs. This was all Rhodes wanted to accomplish, really.
He had intended to take her all the way to her house in the tree, to have Fresnel (that was his name, right?) deal with her, but he didn’t make it as far as the fountain before she finally threatened to make him sorry. He did not want to become sorry, so he tossed her right as she went to spray him. Luckily for Rhodes, but unluckily for one of the construction workers, Maple missed her target. The little Machop girl got hit right square in the face... and consequently passed out. It was very good that she wasn’t carrying any heavy or cumbersome items, very good indeed! Rhodes was starting to get a little ticked off though. Even all the kids he played with in Missy’s house were less of a handful than Maple! All of the kids combined!
“Look what you did, Maple! She wasn’t even doin’ nothin and look what you did to her! You better go make sure she’s okay and go say you didn’t mean it!”
Maple continued to look indignant and defiant, though Rhodes thought he could see a bit of reason slowly working its way through cracks that formed when she misaimed. “Yeah well... you made it happen. This is ya’ll’s fault, not mine.” She made a little sneer with her snout as she said this.
Rhodes picked his next words out very carefully, trying to figure out the best way to get Maple reined and under control. He could do this, he just needed to quickly figure out what would grab her attention over anything else. Mike was gone... so he couldn’t threaten anything about that. But there was that Fresnel guy. He saw Maple with him on more than one occasion, so that had to be the trick. She seemed fond of him, so Rhodes had to place his chips on her whimsical and fickle kid nature not having already caused her to 180 her stance on the guy.
“I guess I’ll go talk to Fresnel about that then,” Rhodes said calmly. He talked low, like he was speaking to himself. It was important to pretend that he didn’t care if Maple heard him or not.
“What? What, why?” she asked with a hint of panic. “You got no reason to do that!”
Rhodes looked at her, as if momentarily confused that someone had butted into his solo conversation. “What? Do... what? Sorry Maple, I gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you around or somethin’.” And with that, Rhodes made a mad dash for the treehouse.
“NOOO! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” she screeched, darting after him.
Rhodes was up the ramp in an instant (and boy did it help to be able to make amazing leaps). He didn’t know his way around the massive treehouse at all, but hoped that it wouldn’t take longer than a few seconds extra (which was all the spare time he had, really). Many Rescuer teams’ casual conversations were being cut short as Rhodes flew through each of the rooms in a blur. It occurred to him that he should have asked one of them where Fresnel was before continuing, but by the time he came to this conclusion, he found himself climbing a steep flight of stairs up and up and up. The final room... the “lighthouse” room... this had to be his. Rhodes scrambled at the plain wooden door until it opened, dashed in, and closed the door behind him, placing himself against it. He could still hear the angry banshee screeches from Maple steadily climbing up to his height.
Rhodes’s heart was pounding something crazy; he had nearly forgotten all about his goal in his anticipation of Maple’s arrival when he suddenly heard a clearing of the throat.
“Yes? May I, erm, help you?”
Rhodes turned around and caught sight of the room’s sole occupant-- how had Rhodes even missed him before? The orbs on his tail and head glowed so brightly, even in this early afternoon light! He realized how absurd he must have looked in this situation: storming into the room, Maple unleashing deathly screams from below... And this guy didn’t really seem fazed by it, either. As a matter of fact, he simply seemed worn down and listless. If Rhodes wasn’t mistaken, there were lines under his eyes, too. Had those been there a few weeks ago? He couldn’t remember.
“Oh, um, Maple was acting... up. She was being kinda like a bully and, well, I didn’t know what to do. So I guess I made it out like I was telling on her. I don’t really care, y’know, but I wanted to get her out of the store since she was bothering the other customers n’stuff.” Rhodes now felt a bit sheepish for dropping more problems on this guy when life itself was clearly dumping enough of those on him as it was. But, Maple wasn’t the problem of the Merchants. Rhodes would do as he had to to maintain peace in the store. It gave him a bit of pride to make things a little easier for PK lately. He knew that she, too, had gotten enough problems dumped on her lately.
“Mm, I thought that was her I heard out there.” He gestured out one of the windows in the direction of the Merchants’ Hut. He slowly got up and ambled toward the door. “I’ll get it from here. Sorry to have troubled you. She’s been...” he trailed off, searching for the least offensive words.
“She’s been a handful since Mike left.” Fresnel let out a hollow laugh.
Rhodes felt very uncomfortable at that. “I bet...”
He suddenly realized that he had to get out of the treehouse before he felt too bad about the situation there. As much as he liked helping others, he sensed that it was just too complex for a single kid to deal with, and so he climbed up and out one of the windows and hopped down through the branches ‘til he reached the ground. For now, he would stick to helping mainly Sandy, Malt, and PK.
Rhodes made his way back to the Merchants’ Hut, checking over his shoulders twice in the process to make sure Maple wasn’t following him. She wasn’t, so that was good. He climbed up the stairs to the second level of the building and called out. “Sandy? Yoo hoo! Ya there?”
Nothing. The upper level felt deserted, so Rhodes made his way around each of the rooms, looking here and there, under this and that, just to make sure Sandy wasn’t hiding. His searching paid off in the end, for he found her under PK’s bed, in a nook just big enough for her to squeeze under.
He peered under and tried to coax her out. “Sandy, Maple’s gone n’stuff. You can come out now if ya want...”
She shook her head vehemently, bumping and shaking the bed frame in the process. “I’m staying right here.”
“Oh... well, okay. I guess I’ll sit here too. Do you mind if I do that?”
Sandy sighed. “I guess not.”
They sat there together for a timeless period, neither one speaking. Rhodes had tucked his knees up to his chin and was slowly and noiselessly rocking back and forth on the wood paneling. He didn’t know if Sandy would talk or not, but that didn’t particularly matter. He just wanted to make sure she didn’t feel alone if he could help it.
Eventually his patience paid off and she spoke. “She’s probably not coming back, is she?”
“Maple? No, she won’t be coming back for a bit hopefu--”
“No, PK.”
This confused Rhodes. Why would Sandy ask that? “She always comes back, Sandy.” Perhaps the day had taken too much of a toll on the poor girl.
“It doesn’t really feel like it.”
“Do... d’ya think so? What makes ya say that?”
She didn’t answer. Rhodes didn’t wish for the conversation to end so early, so he tried to find another way to keep it going. “So, um, ya been helpin Malt out with anything lately?”
“Not a whole lot. I don’t know him very well.”
“Oh. He’s nice n’stuff, you should give’m a chance. I bet he’d like it if you did! I dunno what exactly you could do for him anyway, but I’m sure he could find a thing or two. He’s been having me run errands for him, and he says it’s helped a lot... so I’m sure you could help him too, if ya wanted. I know he’s been real helpful to Miss PK, so by helping him you’d help her!” Rhodes noticed a wince from Sandy at the mention of their leader. This was peculiar. Perhaps related to Sandy’s irrational fear?
Well, he was going to try to pry at it. Slowly. “So... you and PK gonna do anything fun soon?”
Sandy sighed. “Probably not. I don’t think she likes me anymore.”
What? This... this was news to him. She was cranky lately, sure, but not like Sandy? That didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sandy! You know that’s not true, she thinks you’re pretty cool and--”
“Please. Please don’t,” she pleaded. Why...? He started to mentally kick himself in the butt. He had apparently not been observant enough, didn’t notice problems forming beneath his very nose. But he had been so busy lately! Worrying about Shroomsworth, if Tao would be all right, being a pathfinder... But still, how could he not have at least started to figure uot something was amiss?
“If you really think that’s true, can you... at least tell me why?”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’d never,” he promised. And he never would.
“Do you remember Sorbet’s birthday party?” she asked. Rhodes nodded, and when she didn’t continue, remembered that she couldn’t see. So he told her that yes, he remembered. “I gave her a little present I made, but I don’t think she liked it very much. And she didn’t give me anything back, either. I mean... not that I was expecting anything back, but when we went to go sleep, she told me she definitely had something for me... but then she didn’t. I don’t want to say she was lying, I don’t want to say that at all, but she, I think, I think she completely forgot.” By this point in time Sandy’s speaking sped up to a point which made it very hard for Rhodes’s ears to keep up, hut he managed.
“She left when our house broke, she left and ran off and I had to go with Mike, do you remember? I had to go with Mike even though I don’t like him very much, and she left me alone, and finally we found Shroomsworth again, and even though I didn’t like him a lot at first, I liked him more then, and then he left too. And I thought she would be gone forever. And then she wasn’t, but then he left, and then she started to smell like death too. And now I think she’ll leave, and you probably will too, and so will Malt I bet, and everyone will be gone. Everyone will be gone, and then I’ll be all alone and won’t know what I’m doing. I thought maybe I wouldn’t be, but that one night, that one night I got lost because Maple dragged me further and further into the forest, we came back home real late and I came up to this room, this very room, and the door was locked! The door was locked and I couldn’t get in, and I don’t think she even cared that I couldn’t get in! So Maple brought over a blanket for me and we had a sleepover, but it wasn’t very fun, not really, because I wanted to sleep in this bed over my head and I couldn’t! I just couldn’t because she locked me out! I don’t even know what I did and she never told me!”
Rhodes was pretty sure he caught most of what she said, but it had become much more difficult when Sandy started to weep. The whole latter half was uttered in between sobs and hiccups, but Rhodes was pretty sure he understood the situation much better now. But the real question was: what could he do about it? He crawled halfway under the bed alongside her and tried to give her some sort of hug in the limited space. He didn’t know what else to do. Not yet.
PK sat in her office (not to be confused with her room, though she worked in both equally often), contemplating her latest argument with Malt. Immediately after she had returned from her trip out, that’s when it started. She wasn’t even in a particularly foul mood, either. Maybe it was the wrong way he brought up Twigs, or... or maybe it was that the guilt from leaving so often was starting to surface. She didn’t have a name for that feeling, and certainly wouldn’t have called it guilt. It doesn’t make sense to feel bad over something that’s helping everyone out, she would have reasoned. It’s not guilt. That’s stupid.
It caused her to lash out, regardless. That unnameable feeling, that unease that was aroused every time she left, it had started to really take its toll on how she acted toward Malt. She would have laughed if anyone suggested she was striking out because of some deep-rooted unhappiness. Ludicrous! she would have said. Get the hell outta here and mind your own business, ‘less ya wanna buy a thing or two. And... this had happened on an odd occasion, too. She didn’t think she’d be seeing the teams she’d yelled at for quite a while.
But, that didn’t matter. She was busy mulling over what their latest quarrel might mean, and if Malt would reach his own breaking point, when she heard a commotion outside.
She walked up to the door to get a better listen.
“Yeah, he’s back!” someone shouted. PK’s heart lurched.
“I thought he was gone?” Was he really back...?
“He was, but he’s back now! Barty saw him, c’mon, I think he’s on the final stretch!”
She stood at the closed door to her office and started to wring her little hands together. She looked around, felt dazed. She hadn’t really daydreamed of this moment in... in a while. What would she do? If he had really returned... what would she say to him? Would he come, wanting his things? Would he stop by and listen to her ramblings? Would he even visit at all...?
It was too much. Instead of going out to greet him, she crouched down in front of her door, her tail curling around her feet. He might come by, he might not. She would wait and see. Maybe he had other business to attend to first. It didn’t sound like the commotion was getting any closer, so... probably he wasn’t nearing the Merchants’ hut. Probably he wasn’t going to visit at all.
She fingered a pebble on the ground. It didn’t work very well as a distraction, but it helped to have something to keep herself occupied, even if it was completely useless. Something to help her get through waiting to see what would happen next.
Footsteps. Someone approached, then knocked.
PK’s entire body tingled, and she felt numb. Her chest felt hollow. It was time to have her confrontation. She stood, heard another set of knocking, wondered if he was really so impatient, and then opened the door to find--
Mike.
Mike. Why him? Why Mike?
She went through an entire range of emotions in a split second; from tentative happiness to nervous anticipation and then to crushing disappointment, it was likely that her colors gave her mood away just as well. Or maybe not. Mike seemed overjoyed to see her. No.. that couldn’t be right. Who was ever overjoyed to see her anymore? He was probably happy about some trivial nothing.
“What, you’re not... what are you doing here? What do you want?”
Mike sighed. She knew he couldn’t be that happy to be around, and this confirmed it. “Yeah, it’s still the... same? PK, why are you still black? Are you sick??”
Sick? What a little asshole! And how he insults my looks, too? She glared at him, lip curling. “... I’m just fine, thanks. Did you have business here or not?” She hoped the latter. “There’s about a million things I could be doing--and would rather be doing--besides talking to you.”
He took a step back, holding his sack of mystery goods to his chest tighter. “H-hey, that’s not nice! And you should treat me better than that because I’m at least a customer with a lot of money right here! So let’s make a deal or two.” Mike seemed pretty confident, which was absolutely infuriating. On a whim, she felt the desire to crush that out of him. Whatever happened to Mike while he was out, he seemed to approach PK less carefully. With less reserve. Something changed, and that was unsettling. She didn’t much like it.
Staring him down until his eyes finally broke from her gaze, she allowed herself to look over his leather sack. There was a lot of something in it for sure. But, he never really had much for money. It wasn’t likely he was about to start now. “A lotta money, huh? What type of deal are you trying to pull off, then?”
He allowed his eyes to meet up with hers once more before answering. “Well... this is pretty heavy, so will you let me in your office?” At least he was asking things now, becoming a bit more polite. She decided to humor him.
“Mmmm... fine.” She took a step closer to eliminate the gap between the two. “But let me take a peek first. Gotta make sure you’re not wasting my time. Time’s money and all that jazz.”
His confidence returned. “Okay, look at this!” Mike grabbed into the bag, seemingly at random, and pulled out a large emerald. Perfectly and beautifully cut. Where in the hell did he get such a flawless specimen? It was extremely hard to not gasp at its wonder, but she hid her excitement. A good part of being a merchant was not letting the other guy know you really wanted his stuff. PK was very well practiced in this. Mike scanned her face for any sign of approval. “How’s that for money? Think I can have an audience with you now, YOUR MAJESTY?” And somehow, Mike had gotten the gall to become sarcastic toward her. This was really starting to make her angry, but she hid that, too.
“All right, looks real enough. I’ll have to check them up close for myself too. Now, what exactly are you hoping to... buy? With all those?” She turned around and walked back into her office, having mostly forgotten that she ever wished she had another visitor. It was business time.
Mike followed her in and sat down near what PK deemed the Peon’s Table, for those who were unfortunate enough to have to do business with her. It was tiny and had tiny wooden chairs so most Pokemon would be uncomfortable and want to end business as quickly as possible. Her own chair had padding and a nice backing. Mike looked through his bag, searching out specific gems. “Okay here, look at these.” He arranged them by color and size, unknowingly just in the way that PK herself would have done it. “Sorry these are so rough, me and Opal couldn’t really cut all of these so fancily, but wait until you see her work!” What...
Who was...
“...Opal?”
“Aha... Opal...” he started, flushing. His tail got brighter as he laughed. “She... ahahaha...” Mike fondled his scarf and looked right into the gem in front of him. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but trailed off, apparently lost in some dumb goofy thought. A big grin appeared on his face as he spaced out.
And this was the tip of the iceberg, what got PK legitimately angry.
“Oh. I see.” She no longer really wanted to be a part of this exchange. “Whatever. Are you going to buy something or are you messing with me?” Best to end it as soon as possible.
“Ah!! Sorry. Okay, look. First off, I wanna say that I brought Opal with me from Gambitville to take up residence with me in Tao Village.... thing is, I know that “residence” isn’t really ours, and it’s just on loan from you. So, the first deal is this.” Mike emptied the entire bag on the table. “All of this to pay off the treehouse.”
Her eyes grew wide for a moment. What did he--
Oh.
He wasn’t around! He wasn’t around to know that she had no part in the treehouse being built! He had no idea that Anana funded it, that Fresnel managed it, that Fresnel paid the workers--
She wanted to laugh. She hoped she didn’t betray her intentions of milking this for its worth. He just made her so incredibly angry, he probably deserved to be toyed with for a while. So she wanted to see what she could do. She turned away from him, tapped her fingers on the desk in a display of mock contemplation. Ohh, this would be beautiful if she pulled it off perfectly. She couldn’t reveal the gag too early, nor too late. It wouldn’t be fun then.
“Hmm,” she started, “what gave you the impression that’d be enough?” She turned to face him and cocked her head, holding it up boredly with a spare arm. She motioned lazily toward Mike’s wondrous pile of riches. “Have you taken a good look at the treehouse anyway? Have you even seen all its furnishings, do you even know how labor-intensive it was?” Of course, he had enough gems for as much as twenty fancy lighthouses if he really wanted. But he didn’t seem to know that. He stared dumbly at her, and she continued with her uninterested spiel. “Did you even see the lighthouse on top? Do you even know how expensive that was to install?”
And it worked out pretty well. Mike’s mouth was gaping, and he looked slightly dazed. It practically read on his expression. Is she serious? Am I really that naive? Perfect! That was just what she wanted to see. Something in him she could crush. Pathetic little kids thinking they could do anything, that was what made her mad.
“Well?” she asked. Impatiently.
“Th-- that can’t be!” he stuttered. He looked like he might break at any moment. “Here, you didn’t see everything here, look at these!” He frantically motioned to the very gem she kept her eye on through the whole charade, a lovely chargestone. “Are you familiar with the utility rocks? How about this?! Seen a chargestone before?!”
Of course she had. This was likely the most money that had ever gone through a business transaction in her office at any one time. But he didn’t need to know that. “I’m familiar with all manners of stones, idiot! But do you have any idea how hard it was to build on that tree? It got really smashed up during... you know. I’m afraid these just won’t cut it.” She turned away from him, hardly able to contain herself at that lie. She kept up her facade, but barely. It took an incredible amount of willpower to not laugh. Oh, how she wanted to see the misery on his face!
She heard a sigh. That was nice. But then, a claw was placed at her shoulder. “I’m... I guess I got too ahead of myself again. I... I didn’t think this wouldn’t be enough. I’m sorry, but I’ll do whatever you want. I mean... yeah, anything. What do you want?”
This was an unexpected turn of events. There was so much potential! “Anything... do you mean that, Mikey-boy?” She tried very hard to keep her black coloration, for anything else would ruin the perfect environment for his hopelessness to bloom. She looked over her shoulder at him with dire seriousness.
“I... I, I... guess... even that, if that’s what you’re asking. Opa-- I guess.. she’d be okay with it too! Anything for the Rescuers, you know...” Again with that stupid other Pokemon. But, this was just too funny. Too funny! Mike was so naive, just so incredibly immature still! It was really amazing and unbelievable that he could be pranked so hard so easily.
Finally, she reached her own limit. She turned away from him and started to laugh. It might have been something closer to a cackle. What a dolt! What an idiot! Why deal in gems when you barely know their worth?! It made her both angry and amused that he didn’t understand the value. It delighted her that she could still overwhelm him and destroy his self-confidence, but she was also angry that he didn’t call her bluff. There was probably no pleasing her in her current state, anyway. But she continued to laugh regardless.
“What... PK, this is really scary. Is there really more to you than... that?”
She finally caught her breath after a few more moments, and turned to look at him, still hunched over. Mike seemed to have seen something frightful, for he stepped back and nearly lost his balance. Something terrified him. It was probably time to end her little game, now that it had reached a good enough climax for her.
She tried to smile. “You dumbass! Fresnel already paid for the whole thing out of his own pocket!” Well, that was almost the truth. I guess Anana’s borrowed pocket would be a little more accurate of a description here. “You don’t owe me anything but the insurance each month. And even then, he’s paid a year in advance, so you don’t even have to worry about your forgetfulness for a while!” She walked right up to him. Anything to make him feel more uneasy.
“...I... All that... tension. Kheh... is that so?” Mike’s expression changed. Something was ticking in there. She didn’t particularly like the look.
“Yup. Turns out you did waste my time after all, huh? Now get your sorry ass outta here.” It was time for her to get back to--
“...no.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t. This... this has been in my heart.” What was he blabbering on about now?
“What? Stop babbling-”
“I mean!! This!!” Mike stepped forward, grabbed PK by the arms, and tried to pull something like a deep kiss off. It was a bizarre display, and looked more like a lizard trying to gobble another’s face, but PK found herself feeling as dumbfounded as Mike had been during her trickery moments before. Finally, she realized that she was not, in fact, locked in some strange nightmare, and pushed him away. Forcefully.
“What the HELL Mike?! Get OUT OF HERE!” She ushered him out the door, though perhaps it was more akin to shoving, and slammed it shut. It was then that she realized she still had all of his gems. She quickly went to collect them in his sack. She wasn’t going to be branded a thief again.
From outside her office, she heard Mike laughing delightfully. “That was worth all those gems! You can keep them!” This was entirely and completely both frustrating and flustering. She hurried up with her task, then opened the door to drop the gems outside her office. It was then that Mike made the mistake of trying to stick his foot in the doorway as she went to slam the door a second time. Whatever he said beforehand was lost to her as he screeched his pain.
“WHAT more do you WANT?!” It wasn’t at all surprising that she had taken on a red shade similar to the color her father often wore. It wasn’t a color she fancied very much, but alas.
“Look!” Mike feebly tossed a couple of dazzling beauties of gems at the foot of the door, as well as a flask containing some kind of purple liquid. “Opal does more than just gems!” he said through obvious pain. “Keep those, and show it to Shroomsworth too! I’m sure he can see business from Opal more than a mile away. And that drink... it’s yours for you to keep. But if you don’t like it... I guess you can give it to him too if he fancies a hard tea,” Mike gasped.
It wasn’t enough before, no. He just had to go and mock her. Her color was once more gone, as per usual. “Yeah. No. That won’t be happening. Thanks anyway, but...” she looked around, grim and anxious. “Just stop it. I’m really sick and tired of people making fun of me. Just tired of it.” Mike had moved his foot finally (and it was already starting to swell, she could see), and so she closed the door for the final time that day. He heard the lock engage.
“Ah... wait, no. I’m sorry for kissing you, but I don’t wanna ruin Opal’s career! Wait, please!”
But that was it. She didn’t want to hear him any longer. She had almost forgotten that Mike wasn’t the visitor she wanted to see, and then he had to go and give her a nasty reminder. She couldn’t even cry. It was she alone who had come up with those unreasonable expectations on her visitor before even being sure of his identity, but that didn’t make it sting less.
And then she heard Mike talking more. To whom? Curiosity got the best of her (and served a dual purpose as a distraction from her own unhappiness), and so she listened in. Eavesdropping, as unfavorable as it was for many, was in fact a favorite pastime of PK’s. Especially if it might concern her.
“...is your foot bleeding? Ah you really should be careful! I told you! I hope you intended to listen next time?” Malt...
“T-thanks and sorry, but I had a feeling PK was... well, PK. But... hey what happened? And where’s Shroomsworth? Is he working out somewhere?” Stupid, stupid Mike...
“Oh dear... there’s a lot you need to catch up on. I suppose I can give you a run down while I get your foot fixed up...”
PK lost her interest in listening in, as well as her interest in doing anything with anyone for the rest of the day. She crawled under her desk and lay there for hours, eventually falling asleep.
