TEEN: Land of the Roses [abandoned]

[Beth Pavell]

Going to actually be a short one this time. first, nitpicks and ambiguous comments,

"Always so difficult, mother."

Comma mutated into a full stop there.

aide

Aid.

Lord Edgar Alben VIII!"

Depends on quite how British you want to go with this next point. An alternative would be a construction like "Edgar Alben, eighth Earl of Warrick", or "Edgar Alben, eighth Lord Warrick". I forget just when this construction became popular, but you see it turn up in much later centuries.

This is the sort of chapter that really invites sensible comment in context of future chapters, I think. I'm probably going to refer back to this one at a later date

 

[Misfit Angel]

This chapter is rated MATURE
This chapter contains:
[ references to anorexia ] :: [ references to nudity ] :: [ minor references to sexual violence ]​

Author's note: A change that is being made moving forward is that Kimberly will carry a briefcase rather than a backpack. This allows her to prioritize her clothing in a neat manner while still being able to carry some other essentials. However, she still has a personal black hole in which she can store her plot-required junk in. I just like the idea of her wielding a suitcase.

Land of the Roses
Chapter 34: Cracks in the Stone

Beware the Demons that lurk within, for they are a greater threat than any other.​

~ A proverb from the Dornoch Book of Wisdom, written 1492​

"Where has that man child gone?" Kimberly asked. She had been awake for nearly twenty minutes but hadn't seen or heard from Loren in that time. All that remained of his camp were his worn down brown loafers, two discarded cigarette butts and a nearly-full bottle of water; his sleeping bag, his backpack and most importantly, he himself, were missing.

Juliano tapped her on the shoulder and pointed towards a tunnel deeper into the caverns.

"Through there?" she asked. "Did he say anything to you? Let you know what he was doing, or where he was going?"

He nodded, then extended his arm outward and rested two of his clawed fingers on top of it. He mimicked a walking motion with them as he brought his hand forward.

"I guess he got bored waiting for me and decided on a hike?"

He nodded again.

She returned to her own side of the camp and started to gather her belongings together. Her lantern, her tea, her notebooks, her sleeping bag and her suitcase were all neatly lined up in preparation for leaving the area, and she sat down next to them. She idly passed the time by adjusting her hair with a hand mirror, then dolled herself up with a bit of lipstick, blush and verdant green eyeshadow. She felt she needed the practice, yet still wondered why she was even bothering; she had no plans to do anything special or anyone to dazzle. It was nothing other than a force of habit, her morning ritual that she started each day with.

Twenty minutes had passed and she looked at her watch impatiently. "What do you think? Should we leave? Are we capable of finishing this trek without him?"

Juliano happily nodded.

She smiled. "Now, are you saying that because you genuinely believe that, or because you don't want him near me anymore?"

There was less confidence in his body language; his refusal to answer was all that Kimberly needed to know his answer.

"I have issue with him as well, but... it wouldn't be right to leave someone alone in a place like this, even someone like him. That is especially true in his case, as other than that useless flashlight on his phone, he has no source of light of his own."

He nodded.

"I do appreciate your loyalty and willingness to protect me from everything, Juliano, but do remember that I am an adult who can take care of herself. You've seen me grow to that point with your own eyes."

He shrugged. While she had certainly gotten better at the basics over the past year, he couldn't fully agree with that.

A few more minutes passed by as they waited for Loren to return, and as luck would have it, he did. His return was awkwardly silent; no friendly greetings, no questions of where he went or what he was doing. He simply returned to his side of the camp, slipped off a pair of jogging shoes and replaced them with his loafers, then gathered up his belongings.

"You're still here. I take it that means we're doin' this together?" Loren asked.

"Yes."

"You're very forgiving, I appreciate that."

"Do not take it as forgiveness," she sternly warned. "Don't forget where we are. I need you just as much as you need me."

"Look, I just wanna apologize, okay? I didn't think you'd react like that, my bad."

She scoffed. "That's what you consider an apology?"

"What, you want more than that?"

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "No. It'd be meaningless anyways. I understand your desire to apologize, but I don't accept it. I don't believe you would honestly mean it."

He let out a frustrated groan and shook his head. "If you wanna play that game, whatever. Figured I'd try. Let's just move on then, eh?"

She turned her lantern on and flashed it across the cavern, watching closely for the reflective marker that indicated the main trail. When she found it, she began to move forward. "Keep an eye on him, Juliano. I will be leading the way today."

- - - - -​

"'ey! Sunlight!" Loren happily said.

After nearly another two hours spent in the Sonetta Underpass, they finally reached the exit. Two hours that passed in relative silence, amidst a cloud of mistrust. Kimberly could sense a profound difference in Loren's behavior; she didn't care why or whether he learned any lessons, she was simply relieved by his silence, his obedience and his ability to keep to himself.

"Finally," she said. Flicking off the light of her lantern brought her an immense amount of relief. She was happy to have powered through one of her greatest fears, even if she needed to be carried through much of it. Even more, she was happy that she was that much closer to town, that much closer to an excuse for her and Loren to part ways.

A sign beside them told them they were 648 meters above sea level, and from where they stood, they had an unparalleled view of the surrounding landscape. From top to bottom, the walls of the mountain valley around them were dotted with hundreds of old mine shaft tunnels, each completely tapped of the mineral resources inside. Almost vertically below them was the town of Rustlode Bluffs, divided very clearly into two distinct districts. One side of the town was a rusted brown smudge, composed of hastily put together 'temporary' housing for the miners and factory workers of the previous century, while the gentrified downtown section of glass and steel buildings glittered in the sunlight.

Far off in the distance, situated on a small island chain out in the middle of the deep blue Caelton Sea, Kimberly could see her hometown, the maritime jewel of Visalia. They were just a faint glimmer of white and grey amongst the sea, but she could easily picture where the landmarks of the city stood within that blur. Seeing her hometown was bittersweet; it was the pick-me-up that she sorely needed. Yet at the same time, it also had been nearly six months to the day since she walked those islands, and she felt an immense sense of homesickness as she thought about where her life had taken her since she had left.

She wanted to stand there and stare at it some more, but decided on something better instead: her heel impacted the hard stone beneath her as she took her first step towards the town, a first step towards home. "Come along, Juliano, and quickly," she quietly ordered.

"Oh boy... gettin' down ain't gonna be fun," Loren said, cautiously inching himself towards the edge of the cliff side. As he looked around, he noticed a lengthy cable system just a few dozen meters off to their side. "That some kinda elevator? Should make things a lot easier."

She stopped in her tracks and murmured quietly to herself before speaking up. "Yes. I haven't used it myself, but I saw it in operation the last time I was here."

"Wanna ride it down?"

She honestly didn't if he was going to be on board as well, but she had to admit the basic truth: "I suppose that would be quicker than the stairway, wouldn't it?"

They approached the lift system, but to their dismay, it was out of order. A sign indicated that the system needed repairs at the base due to damage from a rock slide, while maintenance on the cables was ongoing and scheduled to be complete by June 7th. Unfortunately, they would have to climb down the lengthy and winding stairs that had been built around the rim of the valley.

"Figures. Nothin's ever easy, is it?" Loren asked, absent-mindedly kicking a small stone over the edge of the cliff. He turned to look at Kimberly. "Well, what do you -- Hey!"

She and Juliano had already taken off and made it halfway down the first set of stairs. Time was against her; the coordination workshop that she had been both dreading and looking forward to since her disastrous performance at the Majesty of Aughrim was scheduled to start in just an hour and a half, and she didn't intend to waste any time complaining about the broken down cable car system.

Even then, she wasn't certain that she would make it on time; navigating the stairs safely, even downward, was likely to take up a bulk of that time. More time would be spent trying to find the location the workshop was being held at, and the question of her hygiene and personal appearance floated to the front of her mind as well.

"You're gonna leave me in the dust!" Loren said, after having caught up with her.

"We're no longer in the underpass, so I see no reason why we have to travel together anymore," she stated.

"Didn't you say you wanted to reach town together, at least?"

She let out a quick sigh. "I suppose I did. But if I am too quick for you, you are free to continue at your own pace. I will continue at mine."

Time passed at its eternally steady rate as Kimberly, Juliano and Loren quietly conquered the stairs together. 100 steps. 300 steps. 500 steps. Small mining outposts became more and more common the further down they went, though most had been abandoned for years and the area was largely void of human life; a wide-eyed tourist here, a grubby scrap metal scavenger there. 750 steps. Somewhere around the 900 step mark, they entered the upper reaches of Rustlode Bluffs and their surroundings started to look more like a town than a mountain trail; houses, even if they were dilapidated shacks with crumbling metal roofs, became a common sight. The scenery shifted from grey and brown towards green and white, with weed-strangled masonry walkways guiding them between overgrown and abandoned gardens.

Kimberly glanced at her watch again. Roughly 45 minutes remained before her workshop began. Time was slimming faster than she'd have liked. If time had allowed, she would have liked to book a hotel room for the day and have her shower there, but unfortunately, time cruelly did not allow; according to the map on her phone, the hotel she had her eyes on was a 27 minute walk away.

She dreaded the thought: she would have to rely on the public facilities provided by the town PokéCenter, located a much shorter distance away. She always tried to avoid doing so, as they didn't afford her the privacy that she was used to while growing up, nor were they the cleanest facilities around, among other reasons she refused to face in the moment. At the very least, however, it would save her some time.

Eventually, they officially crossed into the glitzy downtown section of Rustlode Bluffs. A heightened police presence, likely in response to the events in Doranshire a few days previously, was immediately evident; she felt much safer with the idea of being alone and took the opportunity to separate herself from Loren. "Very well, we've arrived. Do you have any last words before we part ways?"

"I just wish things worked out better."

"I bet you do."

"N-No! Not like --" He lowered his head and groaned with frustration. "Okay, I get it, you're tryin' to teach me a lesson or somethin'."

"I'm glad you at least realize that."

"Yeah, well... I'm off to the PokéCenter, gotta get my 'mons looked after. See you 'round, maybe?"

"Ugh! I just can not rid myself of this man!" her thoughts raged. "Well! It seems that I'm stuck with you for a little while longer, then... That is my destination as well."

He chuckled. "It's honestly a little funny, ya know? So desperate to get away from me and ya just can't."

Her hardened exterior cracked. "I suppose the circumstances are a bit amusing, even if I don't like them."

- - - - -​

"I am on a very tight schedule, Mr. Parmali," she said, glancing at her watch nervously; thirty minutes remained. "Would you be willing to let me make my arrangements with the staff first?"

Loren motioned towards the service desk. "You go do what you gotta, I got time to spare."

"Thank you."

She approached the service desk and tapped the bell that rested atop it. Within seconds, a nurse with a bouncy mop of curly black hair appeared from the back room, a wide and hospitable smile on her face.

"How can I help you today, ma'am?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, I uhh, would like to use the shower facilities. How much would that cost?"

"Free for registered Pokémon trainers, five silver roses for anyone else."

"Oh! That's not as costly as I remember it being!" she said as she dug through her purse and procured a small card. She passed it over the counter. "But I do have my trainer identification right here."

The nurse accepted the card and looked it over before sliding it into a machine on the side of the desk. Her eyebrow raised as she fired a quick glance in Kimberly's direction. "Le'see... Kimberly Fairbrooke of Visalia, Lanark. Actively registered within the Rose League... Looks like everything checks out." the nurse commented before handing the card back. "How long do you think you'll need a locker for?"

"Not long. Twenty minutes, perhaps?"

"Shortest I can give you is an hour, and it's yours. You're set up with locker #4 for your belongings. Just swipe your card in front of the sensor on it and it'll unlock for you. Towels are available just outside of the showering facilities."

"Thank you."

- - - - -​

Ding! Ding!

"C'mooooon..." Loren furiously rung the bell on the desk to grab the nursing staff's attention. "Where'd that lady go? It's like she fucked off as soon as Kim was done with her."

"Just a moment!" the nurse's voice called out from the back room.

He wandered around the lobby in an effort to keep himself occupied as he waited; he naturally found himself attracted to the community notice board. A festival was coming up in a few days but his attention quickly drifted away from it because he planned on leaving before then. A strip club that was hosting a themed night caught his attention just as quickly, but that night was also some time away. A new sports bar, the Rusted Minecart, was scheduled to open the following night and he mulled over the idea of staying in town long enough to attend.

His attention next drifted to a photo of a beautiful woman with layered red hair, immaculate green eyes and a heavenly smile. She was wearing a gorgeous pastel yellow polka dot sundress with a welcomingly low neckline, a look rounded off by a golden necklace with a rose-shaped brooch that dangled comfortably in her cleavage. He was so captivated by the photo of the woman that the rest of the details of the poster were completely lost on him for a moment. When he snapped out of his trance, he noticed the big bold red word above the photo:

MISSING

"Oh..." he mumbled. "'Nother missin' one, huh? What's up with that?"

He hadn't been keeping very close track of them since arriving in the country about three weeks before, but he recalled nearly twenty missing person posters during his time along the western coast of Lanark. He didn't think much of it at the time, but seeing that beautiful woman on the poster spurred his thoughts. Why were a majority of the missing people women? Just what was going on?

The nurse returned from the back room and greeted him with a warm smile. "Welcome to the Rustlode PokéCenter, how may I help you?"

"Very quick question first, and you'll have to forgive me 'cause I'm not from around here," he said, pointing over his shoulder towards the notice board. "What's up with all these missin' ladies I been seein' everywhere? Must've seen at least two dozen of 'em since I came to this country."

"Oh... That's, uhh... I hope it doesn't scare you away, but something's not quite right in this country. Over the past few months, people have been disappearing left and right. Mostly women, but some guys, too. It's kinda scary to think about, pretty much anyone seems to be a target as long as they're young... heh, like me..."

"Shit."

"I know, right? The police say that there's some trafficking ring picking up women as sex slaves and shipping them off to the dark corners of the world. I mean, it's bad enough when someone goes missing, but for that? What kind of sick monster does that?"

"The worst kind," he added.

"Yeah... By the way... That woman I saw you come in with, are you travelling with her?"

He nodded. He wasn't anymore, but the nurse didn't need to know that.

She leaned in closer and spoke softly, casting her eyes suspiciously around the people in the lobby. "Keep her safe! I recognized her name when she signed in... she must be a juicy target for those monsters! She's beautiful and a wealthy heiress, too... Imagine the ransom they could get out of her parents after they were done with her..."

The gears in his head whirred to life as he processed the information that he just heard. "Yeah. I'll do my best to keep her in one piece."

"Good!" The cheer in the nurse's voice returned. "Anyways, how can I help you, sir?"

He dug through the pocket of his blazer and placed his three Pokéballs on the counter, as well as his trainer identification card. "See to it that these three are taken care of, eh?"

The nurse bowed her head in silence and scanned the card. "Oh! You're from the Divine Provinces, huh? You're a long way from home... Enjoy your time in Lanark!"

"Oh, I already have," he haughtily said.

The nurse handed his card back, scooped the three Pokéballs up and disappeared into the back room.

He returned to the waiting area and sat down. "Kim's a wealthy heiress? Shit, I really did fuck up last night... Maybe if I try hard enough, I can turn things around..." he thought as he pulled out his phone. "What was her last name again? Fairbrooke? Gonna need some information on this family of hers..."

- - - - -​

"I always hated these public facilities... So filthy..." Kimberly thought as she timidly entered the locker room at the back of the PokéCenter. "Though I guess I did get to see Nicole in all her beauty a few times without feeling like a creep, which was nice..." She unstrapped her sandals and gently placed them into the bottom of the locker. "But it feels so weird, especially now that I know..." She loosened the ribbon around her waist and hung it -- her collection of Pokéballs with it -- from one of the hooks inside.

She sighed and slipped her arms out of her sleeves, allowing her dress to fall downward. The largest reason that she was uncomfortable with using the public facilities at PokéCenters manifested itself almost as soon as the fabric hit the floor. Though she didn't visually confirm it at first, she knew it was happening: the other girls in the locker room were staring at her, and the feelings of anxiety only grew when she made eye contact with a few of them. Each of the girls looked away awkwardly. "Please, stop staring... I'm trying my hardest..."

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, but she had trouble seeing the truth it displayed. What was a frail-looking and gaunt woman in reality was a pudgy, disgusting mess in her mind's eye. She couldn't see her well-defined collarbone coming to a point on her shoulders, the contours of her rib cage or the pointed nature of her elbows. Rather, she visualized doughy folds above her hips, jiggly arms and thighs, and excessive curvature where she felt there shouldn't be.

There was always an inkling in her mind that her self perception wasn't the truth, but her almost primal desire to achieve a model figure overpowered those thoughts, and the anxiety of the other girls in the locker room gawking made it even more difficult to believe. She reached back into her locker to grab her dress and put it back on, but told herself that she had to power through this; arriving at her workshop as a sweaty, dirt-covered mess would have been bad form and was beneath a woman like her. Instead, she removed her underwear and pushed herself towards the shower room.

"Here we go..." she mumbled to herself as she set foot on the cold and slippery tiled floor of the shower room. The steam and mist from the running water obscured much of the room, but she got an eye full of the occupants inside. That was another reason she hated those facilities, the complete lack of privacy; just a large, open room with several rows of shower heads. Almost like a prison. "Eyes forward, let's just get this over with."

It wasn't that easy. Every now and then, her eyes would wander out of curiosity. She darted them back and forth so that she wasn't staring at anything or anybody. She'd make brief eye contact with one of the other women and feel those same feelings of anxiety, discomfort and guilt creep over her again. She berated herself for looking around first, but wondered why they glanced in her direction as well. No doubt they were glaring at her and wondering why someone so disgusting would dare show her face and body in public.

With her voice masked by the rushing water, one of the other women in the facility leaned over to the one next to her. "Oh my god, look at her!" she quietly said.

"I know. I can understand wanting to look fit, but that's not healthy... I hope she's okay."

The woman shook her head. "There's no way she is."

She could only hear faint mumbling, but tried to block it out and focus on other thoughts. Her workshop was coming up very shortly, and she went over her routines in her head: Juliano was well practiced as usual and didn't need much work outside of tightening up his execution. Telandra needed much more work, however, especially when it came to having a variety of routines ready, as well as her ability to actually perform them well. Her newest capture, her Jigglypuff, was the true wildcard; she already had an idea of how to incorporate her singing into a routine, but anything else she was capable of was unknown to her at the moment.

She knew the workshop would likely cover her own abilities and responsibilities as a coordinator as well. While she was reasonably happy with her personal performance at the Majesty of Aughrim, she couldn't help but feel like she was still lacking in every area. Her simplistic wardrobe, at least compared to the other competitors, probably didn't do her any favors. Andrea's rushed makeup application, as much as she appreciated it, probably didn't help either. Likewise, she felt that she had to improve her gymnastic skills if she was going to focus on such displays, and now with her plans to bring in her Jigglypuff's singing, she wondered if it was time to dust off her piano at home and practice on it for the first time in years. Perhaps even her guitar, which would be much easier to practice with if she was going to continue a life of travel.

The thoughts swirled in her head, and before she knew it, she'd done everything she needed in that shower room. She turned her water off and briskly carried herself back to the locker room; unfortunately, with the focus of leaving the room at the front of her mind, so too was the worry that she'd be gawked at again, a fear that was realized when she crossed over onto the carpeted floor. Eyes, several pairs of them, were locked on her for a brief moment before turning away. One pair, however, didn't look away; they belonged to a woman who only made the situation worse by shaking her head and voicing her disgust.

She hurried as quickly as she could to dry herself off and get dressed, but it didn't help shield her from the thoughts, from the eyes around her. Worse yet, she heard the words from someone leaving the locker room:

"Ever consider seeing a therapist? You could end up in a hospital."

Before she could formulate a response, the woman was already gone.

The woman's words were said so casually and so idly, even carelessly. There was no helpful context behind them. How would a therapist help her get her weight firmly under her control? What would they tell her, skimp even further on meals and choose healthier options? She already went to bed hungry some nights in her efforts to slim down, without realizing that she didn't need to. It was a confusing mess of terrible emotion, and she wasn't certain she could handle it.

Her throat started to close up, her knees began to feel weak and her hands twitched as she gathered up her belongings; she could feel another panic attack brewing. She reached for her bottle of Tenzepam, unscrewed the cap and shook two of the oblong, mint green pills into her hand. She popped them into her mouth and swallowed hard, then let out a deep sigh of frustration as she returned the bottle to her purse.

"Those things are going down easier and easier without water... That's a bad sign..."

- - - - -​

"Put on a strong face, young miss," she told herself as she left the locker room and entered the lobby. "You're a Fairbrooke! You're strong! You're capable!"

She didn't make it far before she heard Loren's voice call out behind her, "Hey! Kimberly, c'mover here!"

She looked over and saw him beckoning her over. "I should just ignore him, but he's between myself and the door... blast it!" She hesitated and grumbled quietly to herself before approaching him. "Yes?"

"So I been noticin' somethin' since I came to this country," he said, pointing to the missing person poster. "Spoke to the nurse about it, too. She said there's a massive traffickin' ring operatin' here in Lanark? You heard about this at all?"

"I have, yes. That appears to be the case." she answered. "I'm not sure it's quite that, but... well, I don't know how true my own suspicions are, to tell you the truth."

"Aren't you worried 'bout that at all? You been lucky that -- uhh, I mean, at least I been by your side, ya know? Strength in numbers. But now you want to be alone, you sure that's smart?"

In her annoyance, she gripped the fabric of her new dress tightly. She still couldn't accurately pin down his motives, even as transparent as he was the previous night. "And why do you care so much about my well being, Mr. Parmali?" she barked loudly, enough for the other patrons to look over and listen. "Is it because you think I'm pretty? Desirable? Because you hope that some day, by attaching yourself to my hip, I'll relent and sleep with you?" She glared at him as she studied his reaction. She saw confusion, anger and even a bit of resentment in his facial expression, which only annoyed her further. "Don't even try to deny it. You were just going to use me up and throw me aside, as I imagine you've done to many women in the past."

He stared at her blankly for a moment before angrily confirming her assumption. "You act like that's a bad thing. People do it all the time! They find someone they like, they have a little fun and then get on with their lives, no big deal."

"Ugh! How would you feel if you were the one being taken advantage of? Put yourself in the shoes of one of those women, one who probably admired you and thought she would get more out of you than a cheap thrill that disappeared by morning. How do you think she felt when she realized that you were gone and that she was just another meaningless conquest of yours?"

"Hey, don't frame this as somethin' that only guys do. Girls do it, too."

She grumbled angrily. It seemed as if he found it impossible to understand the negatives of his behavior, and she didn't have the time to explain to him her point of view. "Why are we even discussing this? I have an appointment to keep. Good bye."

He grabbed her by the arm to stop her as she turned around.

She attempted to wrestle her arm out of his grip unsuccessfully. "Get your hands off of me, let me go!"

He did. "Hold on, one last thing. Look, I get it. When it comes to you, I fucked up last night, no doubt about that. But that doesn't mean I'm incapable of carin' about other people. I'm human too, ya know, and I have a heart. If you don't feel safe bein' alone out there, please, tell me so. 'Cause I don't feel right leavin' you alone now that I know girls your age are goin' missing left and right."

Her eyes drifted down to the floor in silence.

"I wanna make it up to you. I wanna protect you. You might not like it, but it'd be best for us to stick together."

She figured that maybe he was being honest for once, but she still didn't buy his sudden change of heart. "You just don't get it, do you? I don't feel safe alone, but I also don't feel safe with you."

He bunched his lips closely together and looked off to the side. She could see the defeat in his eyes, but it didn't bring her any happiness.

"I want you to -- no, I need you to understand something, Mr. Parmali, and I say this to you as a plea for space. I am having a very stressful time right now, and I'm also having trouble dealing with the circumstances that are causing that stress. Your presence will not help with that. I don't feel like I can trust you after what you tried to pull last night, and no amount of charm is going to change that. An environment of mistrust and fear is not what I need right now."

"Just wanted to, ya know..." he stammered.

"If you really care as much as you say you do, then please: be on your way. I can take care of myself."

He looked down in thought and nodded. "Fine, understood. I get ya."

"Thank you," she said, and she genuinely meant it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a coordination workshop to attend. I can only hope they won't be too upset with me for being a little late."

"Good luck."

- - - - -​

She overestimated how long it would take to reach the Halworth Recreation Center. Having visited the town once in the previous year, she was familiar with the vertical nature of Rustlode Bluffs, but unfamiliar with how that affected her travel app; what would have taken her perhaps just ten minutes in a flatter place such as Aughrim took her over half an hour, and she only had a third of that to spare when she left the PokéCenter. After climbing and descending what felt like thousands of stairs and making many twists and turns through the maze-like, poorly planned walkways of the town, she finally arrived.

"Hello!" she cheerily said, greeting the receptionist at the front desk. "I'm a little late, but I'm here to attend the coordination workshop being hosted by Jasper Halworth."

The receptionist checked the clock that sat on his desk and chuckled. "A little? You're over 20 minutes late, love."

"Yes, I apologize."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Halworth has a very strict policy against tardiness. I figure it's part of his eccentric personality, I don't entirely understand it myself... But you'll have to reschedule and come back."

"No, please... I worked so hard to get here..." she pleaded softly.

"I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but... Mr. Halworth's rules are something that I have to enforce. If I send you in here, both of us will lose our heads, and mine is likely to end up on a pike. I don't know about you, but I like my head on my shoulders. And my job."

She sighed in defeat. "Very well. When is the next workshop?"

"Hummmm, let's seeeee..." he said. He picked up a week by week schedule and located the current day on it. "Hey, you're in luck, next one's in two days. I take it you'll be signing up?"

She looked down at the ground in thought. "I've come this far, but... I would like some time to think it over. Will I be able to sign up tomorrow?"

"Sure can."

"Very well. If I decide to, I'll be back tomorrow."

She stepped outside and found a bench to have a seat on. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then let it all out in an attempt to block out the stressful day she was having. The view helped a bit; the sea was much closer to her now, and the sound of the waves crashing against the crags below her could be faintly heard over the gusting winds around her. Off in the water, she saw one of the numerous paddle boats in service of the Caelton Ferry Lines. She unlatched the binoculars from her suitcase for a closer look; the royal green wheel at the back splashed in the water, propelling the boat along at a lazy pace, brought memories back to her.

"Hmm... it's been awhile since I last rode the ferry... Perhaps when I'm done here, I should book my trip home on one." she thought aloud. "Until then, however, I suppose I'll rent a room at the Vogel..."

 

[Beth Pavell]

I forgot I'd read a draft of this, at first. But still, looking at the polished version:

He shrugged. While she had certainly gotten better at the basics over the past year, he couldn't fully agree with that.

I kind of like Juliano's body language. I can't say it's especially clever, but it does the job, and it gives the impression of a pokémon considerably more stoic than his trainer. You've got to wonder what it would take to faze a pokémon like that.

I noticed a few changes and upgrades to the description, as well. Which is a small, but important, change, given how the worldbuilding tends to be a big draw for your stories.

"Look, I just wanna apologize, okay? I didn't think you'd react like that, my bad."

She scoffed. "That's what you consider an apology?"

"What, you want more than that?"

I prefer this version of Loren to that of the draft. I maintain it's not hard to find tossers like this - the kind that almost need their eyes clawed out before they take "no" for an answer and never seem to learn. Some of his arguments (That they are arguments at all, in context, says a lot about him) aren't wrong, per se ... which is fine, because I don't think you wanted to make him complete scum and he doesn't need to be, either.

"I just wish things worked out better."

"I bet you do."

I like this line better, too. That's an Eve kind of line. Now I think about it, they'd probably get on quite well over a topic like this.

When it comes the anorexia scene ... it rings true enough to me. I'm not completely new to the disorder, though I can't say I have personal experience of it. I don't know how true the "seeing a fat girl in the mirror" cliché really is - for all I know it may be a cliché for a reason, but since that's not all there is to the scene I'm inclined to think it's an acceptable cliché.

 

[Misfit Angel]

Land of the Roses
Chapter 35: Guiding Light

We all have our own demons. They come in different shapes and different sizes, at different points in our lives, but we have to fight them. We have to live, chase our dreams. I did, and I believe that you can, too.​

~ Foreword from Why Me?, written by retired Royal Lanark Navy Subcommander Simone Reed​

Kimberly took a deep breath and let it out. "Ahhh... The Vogel, how I missed thee..."

Telandra mewwed excitedly as she dashed aimlessly about through the lavishly furnished and expansive hotel room.

"Yes! There's plenty of room to jump about in here! Enjoy the freedom!" she said with a smile. She dropped her purse off on the bed and placed her suitcase on the floor beside it, then wandered over towards the balcony. As she slid open the patio door that led outside, she was greeted by a brisk breeze that caused her to shiver. "Ah, good! I got a room with a view of the sea..."

She took a look around, trying to spot any interesting landmarks. To her left was a view of the decaying industrial district, a complex array of foundries, forges and other factories that once gave the town life and a sense of purpose. Now, they were defunct and abandoned, like much of the town. A look to the right displayed the stubborn remnants of the town, the gentrified downtown section that exploited its past for profit through tourism; numerous advertisements hung from the windows of some of the taller buildings, offering tours of the old factories and the mines that made the town great in decades long gone. From her vantage point, she also had an unobstructed view of the Halworth Recreation Center, and her frustration about not being able to advance her coordination abilities brought back a rush of memories.

She thought back to when she first experienced the art of Pokémon coordination; it was during one of the lowest points in her life, after a particularly awkward disagreement with her best friend and travel partner, Nicole. She had taken some time to separate herself from her friend and caught a train to the opposite side of the country, the hardened artery of Lanark's mass media empire: the seaside metropolis of Alderny. She had visited the city just in time to catch the finals of Lanark's Grande Festival, a match up between two of the greatest legends of the sport, Dawn Berlitz and May Odamaki. She was instantly captivated, but had trouble shaking her thoughts free of the circumstances that inspired her to visit.

Another memorable experience from her time as a coordinator was her performance in her hometown's yearly Winter Harbor Festival. It was her first public appearance as a coordinator, and truth be told, she didn't have a firm grasp on what she was doing despite being personally taught by an accomplished master coordinator. Just as well -- and perhaps even intentionally, she had the suspicion -- she was matched against some of the most clueless novices that night. She didn't feel like she was, but the judges scored her routines as if she were a dominant force. She sailed through the night as the overall winner, giving her a much needed boost in confidence.

But that victory wasn't without its own problems. Over the next few days, she'd heard the gossip, seen the headlines and read the shocking allegations in the supermarket tabloids: the Winter Harbor Festival was rigged in her favor by her mentor. Nasty rumors circulated about the two, who had been in a relationship at the time, casting a shadow over the confidence that she had gained. The public scrutiny became so bad that she had trouble living her day to day life without feeling as if the townsfolk of Visalia were looking down on her, rather than up to her. Trapped in her own house, she agreed to join her mother on a charity mission to the refugee community of Cold Harbor, which had been devastated by an earthquake, to escape it all.

"Had I not been under that pressure," she thought, "I might have remained in town and continued my training, rather than spend those five months up in that frozen abyss..."

That was another thing that annoyed her. While doing her charity work, in which most of her time was spent either working in a soup kitchen or as an assistant teacher for young children -- a noble profession, she realized -- she had precious little time to herself. On the rare occasion that she would find the time to sneak away and practice her coordination, her skills had rusted and her knowledge faded. Even worse, her mother always seemed to know where and when to find her, and would criticize her selfish behavior when so many people still needed help with putting their community back together. Unfair, but she had a point.

It all led to her latest experience in the sport, the Majesty of Aughrim. Thinking in hindsight, she realized that she never should have participated. Her experience, knowledge and skills were nearly six months out of date, and every aspect of her participation was stressful and rushed. It all led to a disastrous performance that shook her confidence to pieces and brought back the question of whether her mentor really did rig her previous contest. She questioned if coordination was right for her then, and she was starting to question it again now. Her hand trembled with anger.

"Why am I even bothering with this stupid hobby? It has surrounded me with nothing but grief so far."

She sighed, pushed herself away from the railing and returned to the bed. With a careless flop, she crashed onto the bed. Sensing that her master was in distress, Telandra leapt off of the armoire and bounced onto the bed in a single graceful motion. The Skitty rushed up to her and aggressively nuzzled against her knees.

"Oh, Telandra... This has not been a good day... I can't keep it together."

Telandra mewwed happily, purring away as she tried to find a comfortable position for cuddling with her master.

"Is that how it's going to be? Very well." She strained to reach her purse from the foot of the bed, and upon retrieving it, dug inside for her phone. "I wonder how Andrea is doing... I hope better than I am." she mumbled as she began to tap away at her phone.

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:12 PM

'Andrea! How are you?'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 1:14 PM

'oh hey!'
'you caught me on my lunch break'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:15 PM

'Hooray! Have much time to talk, friend?'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 1:15 PM

'a few minutes whats up'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:16 PM

'I have a question. Have you felt okay these past few days?'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 1:16 PM

'oooohohohoho theres been a lot bothering me recently but do you mean anything specific'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:17 PM

'Oh no! Want to talk about it later?'
'I can't help but shake the feeling that something is wrong... Like something is trying to drag me into despair, and I wonder if you've been experiencing it, too.'
'I've been unable to keep it together as well as I usually can over the past few days. : ('​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 1:18 PM

'maybe well see'
'oh yeah ive actually felt something like that too. feels like a fingers clawing at my mind kinda? i dunno'
'i think it might just be the stress from what happened to us that night. youve gotta remember we could have been killed'
'it seems like its only natural that wed come apart at the seams after something like that'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:20 PM

'Perhaps. But I've never had this much trouble before, and that wasn't the first time that I've been in danger.'
'I understand that you don't buy into mysticism much, but I wonder... Did that woman in the forest place a curse on me? Or maybe both of us?'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 1:21 PM

'before that night id laugh at that suggestion but now im not so certain'
'lets keep each other updated ok? see if it gets worse for either of us. if it does i might actually have an idea for fixing it strange as that sounds'
'oh i remember you talking a lot about some workshop you were attending in rustlode did you make it on time'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:22 PM

'I didn't... So now I'm spending the day in my hotel room, really bummed : ('​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 1:24 PM

'aww try to get some fresh air. trust me itll help'
'maybe tour the old factories? could keep your mind busy and distracted'
'ah shit todays supervisor is glaring at me i guess i gotta get back to work'
'chin up and ttyl!'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 1:24 PM

'Thank you! Have a good day!'​

She sighed as she lowered her phone into her lap. "Fresh air, she says... That does sound like a good idea. Boiling away in here won't do me any good. But I doubt I'm going to find any fresh air in an old factory..." She tapped on Telandra's shoulder to wake her. "Hey there, sweetling! Do you want to go outside?"

Telandra mewwed happily.

"I was thinking we could go to the pool area... If there aren't a lot of people around, maybe I can work on my tan without having another nervous breakdown? It's certainly a nice day for it."

- - - - -​

"Oh no... look at all of these people..." she thought. "Is there some sort of convention happening in town? Why else would anyone come here?"

The pool area was astonishingly busy for a weekday afternoon. People of all ages, from rambunctious children to retired seniors vegetating on their deck chairs, were out and about, enjoying the crisp sea air and the seasonably warm temperatures of Lanark's southern coast. The poolside bar was stocked with already-drunk patrons and the pool itself was filled to capacity. Through it all, however, the area was thankfully fairly quiet, save for a shout or roaring laugh every now and then.

She grasped the fabric of her dress. "I may not be working on my tan after all, Telandra."

Telandra, perched upon her shoulder like a parrot, nuzzled up against her master's chin.

"But, we're already here. I may as well enjoy the weather, and the view of the sea."

She picked the furthest corner of the poolside lounge, an area that was separated from much of the chaos by a planked wall. Much to her joy, this area was empty for the most part, with only a young couple seated next to each other; she would be allowed to relax in peace, without having to worry too much about recalling Telandra. She may even have had the opportunity to work on her tan, if she really felt the urge to.

In keeping with her pattern, she picked the deck chair furthest away from the couple and sat down on it. She found a comfortable position, leaned back and closed her eyes. The sound of the waves was relaxing, as was the breeze that kicked through the area every few seconds. Added to it was the comforting presence of her loyal Skitty, curled up on her lap and purring gently. The thought of indulging in her daily meditation in an attempt to further free herself from her stress crossed her mind.

She slipped off one of her sandals and pressed her foot against the tiled floor of the seaside promenade. She was testing to see if it would have been comfortable to sit down on, but it wouldn't have been; unlike the deck chair she was lounging in, the ground was cold and hard, so much so that she wouldn't be able to focus on her meditation as much as she needed to. Instead, she elected to stay on her chair, even if her posture would be 'incorrect'. She folded her hands into her lap, slowed her breathing and did her best to push her thoughts aside.

Little by little, the sounds, smells and other stimuli from the promenade around her faded into twilight, and at last, she found herself within the familiar void of her mind. A gentle glow of light appeared above her, and in her mind's eye, she opened her eyes. She couldn't see much apart from a blurred fog of swirling black smoke around her.

"Dearest Mother of Light..." she whispered. "I am lost and I seek your guidance."

The light grew stronger, but the fog around her persisted. She hadn't seen anything like it before during her past experiences with meditation, and it worried her. Something didn't feel right, but she stubbornly persisted.

"Are you there, Mother?" she questioned. "I am lost and I seek your guidance. I don't know how to move forward, how to find happiness, the most sacred of your gifts."

She waited patiently as the fog around her billowed energetically; faint shapes of grasping hands could be seen within as the smoke started to dissipate. It soon lifted, and when it did, she found herself inside of what looked like a dance studio. A man in a bright white tweed suit stood off to the side of the room, watching a coordination performance by a woman that looked strikingly similar to herself, and a Blastoise that shared the same mottled patterns on its skin as Juliano.

An innocent misstep was made by the woman that sent her tumbling into the Blastoise, and the man chastised her cruelly, "Ms. Fairbrooke, you will never find the balance needed for those moves until you get in shape, you disgusting whale. Get out! And stop wasting both of our time!"

She watched herself and the Blastoise saunter towards the corner of the room, then collapse in sadness and defeat. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. The scene carried on as if she weren't there, only fueling the misery on her face. She was rattled by what she saw, but she fought to keep the images her mind's eye had created.

Her mind's eye blinked, and in an instant, she was seated in a crowded auditorium. The people around her were cheering loudly as a procession of well-dressed men and women walked out onto the stage. She studied each of them closely, looking for clues in the image, until the last person emerged from behind the curtains; it was her. While she saw happiness and jubilation on the faces of the other contestants, only a look of defeat could be seen on her own. A screen behind the contestants showed a tournament bracket, and she could see that she didn't advance past the first round.

Once again, her vision flashed with black. The auditorium ceased to be and the roar of the crowd faded. Instead, she found herself in a familiar setting, her bedroom. Once again she saw herself, laying in bed with the covers pulled up to her neck and that same look of defeat on her face. Her hair was an unkempt mess, and her cheeks were red raw from wiping tears away. Seated in a chair beside the bed was her mother, speaking energetically and wagging her finger, yet no sound came out of her mouth; the only sound that she could hear was herself miserably agreeing with whatever her mother was saying:

"You're right, Mother... You're always right... I am sorry for disappointing you again..."

She willed her eyes open and she found herself back on the seaside promenade, under the comforting presence of the sun's warm light. The images she'd just seen were discomforting and confusing; typically when she looked to her meditation for answers to her questions, she saw something positive and worked towards it. She wondered if the stress of the day or possibly even her medication was affecting her mind's eye in some way, but the thought swirled in her mind: did she see the likely outcome of her continued attempts to be a competitive Pokémon coordinator?

She found herself deep in thought about the questions that had been burning all day, but only one came to mind as something that could be answered. She reached for her phone and scrolled through her messages, hoping that the one person who could answer had gotten back to her: her old mentor, Petyr Milos. It had been over 24 hours since she sent him a message, but there was no response from him. She contemplated sending him another message, but instead started to dial his number; a question burning so hotly deserved a more immediate answer.

Eventually, Petyr answered. "Hello?" his familiar voice asked.

"Petyr? It's Kimberly."

An audible gasp came from Petyr's end of the line. "Kimberly? What a surprise! It's been so long!"

"It has... I tried reaching out to you yesterday, did you not receive my message?"

Petyr was silent. "Oh! You did! My apologies, I-I-I don't often check my messages anymore. I'm kept very busy these days." Petyr paused for a moment, and she heard a contented sigh from him. "I missed that sugary voice of yours so much."

She smiled and blushed. "And an opportunity to compliment me again, I see."

"Guilty."

The two shared a laugh, as they had many times in the past. It felt good.

"So, how have these past few months treated you? Your mother told me that you spent a few months up north for some charity work."

She confirmed it, and explained some of her day to day experiences in working with the people of Cold Harbor. While it was difficult work and mercilessly devoured her free time, she generally viewed it as a positive experience. When pressed whether she would do work like that again, she said that she would on one condition: better weather would be a must. In exchange for her stories, Petyr told his own about what he had been up to in the months since they last spoke. He told of his numerous teaching experiences with celebrities who looked to broaden their careers, the expansion of his training school, as well as his own charity work within the city of Visalia.

They had already been talking about coordination, so she took the opportunity to dive in and ask the question before she changed her mind. "I have a question, Petyr... A difficult one. Do you believe that I have any potential as a Pokémon coordinator?"

"That's an odd question... What makes you ask it?"

"I've just not felt like I have any as of recent..."

"Your confidence issues are coming back again, aren't they?"

She nodded in silence, then realized that she was talking on the phone. "Uhh, yes."

"If I did not believe you had potential, I would not have taught you."

Based on the sugary way he had treated her while she learned the basics of coordination from him, she was tempted to believe otherwise. She wondered if he was being entirely truthful, but it did seem like an honest answer.

"So, what's been bothering you, then? Let's work through this."

"Two things have been on my mind recently, at least in regards to coordination. The first is a contest that I took part in, the Majesty of Aughrim."

"Oh! Did you really? I was unaware!"

"I did."

"I'm proud of my student! The Majesty of Aughrim is a big deal for people of your experience level!"

"Save your praise. Something tells me you did not read the news about it, because I failed miserably."

"Uhhh, I didn't. I'm pretty busy these days. How bad was it, if I may ask?"

"Well, I umm, I hold the record low score in its 25 year history..."

"Oh! Oh dear, that's not good. What happened?"

"One of my routines failed, which absolutely devastated my score. It was something that I'd worked on after we finished our training together, so admittedly, it wasn't your fault. I'm not looking to blame you."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, some of that blame rests on me. You have to remember, our training together ended... practically overnight, it felt like. I didn't teach you as much as I could have. Should have, rather."

"Whatever the case... The second thing on my mind is the Winter Harbor Festival -- I won that contest, but in hindsight, I didn't do very well."

"I remember it. You were sloppy, but understandably so. You were just a beginner and still finding your feet."

"Wasn't everyone at the festival?" she responded flatly. "But... the rumors... I'm sure you remember the speculation that you and I worked together to rig the competition in my favor... I certainly didn't work towards that, but... My recent struggles have me wondering if the contest really was fixed in my favor. So here I am, and I ask you to be honest with me, as you have many times in the past: did you rig the harbor festival and ensure my success?"

"I did not. Absolutely did not. I cared about your growth as a coordinator, and you... I still do."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "That's sweet of you."

"Now, whether someone else rigged the contest in your favor... I can't say. Would you like me to investigate?"

She hesitated to answer. "No. I can think of a few people who would have done so, but I'd rather not know if they did it."

"Those filthy tabloid rumors... they destroyed something beautiful between us, and now they're threatening to destroy something beautiful once again."

She cracked a smile. "Is this your way of complimenting me again?"

"I'll keep doing that until I no longer have a reason to."

"You're such a sweet man."

"I try to be! Anyways, uhh, your message you sent me yesterday said that you were on your way to Rustlode Bluffs, but you didn't want to travel alone. Do you still need my help? I can push back a few of my appointments to come meet you.

"I appreciate that! But I don't need the help anymore, I did find someone who was passing through and we travelled together. Unfortunately, I still did not arrive on time."

"Oh, that's a shame. If you don't mind my asking, what were your plans?"

"I was going to attend a coordination training workshop at the Halworth Recreation Center, but I arrived late and was turned away."

"The Halworth Recreation Center? Jasper Halworth, correct?"

"Yes."

"I see... So he still is running that scam... In the teaching business, we call him Mr. Notatallworth. The guy is a charlatan and a damn good one. He preys on the hopeful but destitute of Rustlode, 'teaching' them useless skills that won't get those poor people anywhere. I don't even want to know how many dreams he's built up and then destroyed as he robbed people blind... I would advise you to not attend his workshops."

Petyr's assessment seemed to fit in with what she saw in her meditation; if he really was a fraud and she took part in his workshop, it was likely that she wouldn't have learned anything useful. A further possibility was that she could potentially destroy her career and confidence later down the road, just as her mind's eye had warned.

She giggled. "Mr. Notatallworth. I like that. Very well, I trust your advice. I won't be attending his next workshop, then. I'm glad I missed it."

"If you're still interested in furthering your career, we can get back together when you come home."

"I do hope you mean getting back together in a professional sense."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Another giggle. "Perhaps I can return the favor by teaching you to be a better speaker."

"I'd like that."

"I'll have to do some thinking. My meditation today indicated that I might only find sadness if I continue on the path of a coordinator, and I've learned to trust what the Goddess shows me."

"Faith is a powerful thing, but it is not absolute."

"If you do have the time, maybe we can talk about my future and my past failings. Something else that I can trust is you, and your skills."

"Of course! Let me know when you're home and I'll make some time for you. And unfortunately, speaking of time... I do have to go. I've got another student to get ready for."

"Good luck!"

"It was nice hearing from you again. I hope this is the revival of our friendship, I miss you."

"Heh, I can tell! Yes, it was nice."

"Good bye, and see you soon!"

"Good bye."

She hung up and placed her phone back into her purse, then adjusted her posture and let out a happy groan as she stretched. She sighed and smiled as she recalled their old friendship. "Five months have come and gone, yet he's still clingier than a Qwilfish."

Telandra took the opportunity to jump onto her chest and cuddle against her chin. She meowed inquisitively.

"Uncle Petyr. You remember him, right? You were just a kitten, so maybe not..."

Telandra forcefully nodded.

"I just need to remember to be on my toes around him, and not forgot how pushy he could get," she reminded herself. "Perhaps when I visit him, it's time to be honest with him about why we broke up... Those rumors provided a convenient excuse, but I'm done being untruthful with my friends."

Telandra meowed happily.

She looked around and noticed that the seaside promenade was becoming more crowded. "What do you say we return to the quiet solitude of our room? I've had enough with people today."

 

[Beth Pavell]

Every now and again you'll come out with a chapter that doesn't leave me with that much to say about it.

This is a serviceable chapter. There's no obvious fat to trim, nothing obviously rushed or truncated. It paces pretty well. Sometimes your dialogue doesn't come across quite naturally, your inner monologue/exposition reads a bit more elegantly than usual, but honestly, this is just nibbling around the edges of the chapter.

I think you're catastrophising a bit about this chapter. You're not writing a shonen fighting fic; character development is not equal to how hard your protagonists can punch things. In a character-driven journey fic it doesn't necessarily matter if a planned event is cancelled. The arc is about Kimberly trying to find her feet as a coordinator, and that's what the chapter is about. True, others would disagree with me on this, but I do think you have to look at the chapter in the context of its genre.

Petyr is an interesting character in the context of your writing - or rather, Petyr and Kimberly's dynamic is. We've not really seen anything like this before. They're obviously on pretty good terms, despite everything, and you get the impression that Kimberly at least regards the relationship as a positive one - despite his flaws, which probably mean insecurity. Men in your stories tend to get the short end of the stick. Petyr appears to be fundamentally decent. He shows a sort of sweetness towards Kimberly that's different to a lot of the NPC politeness that I recall from the likes of Raven Duskwillow and other dad-characters.

 

[Misfit Angel]

I think you're catastrophising a bit about this chapter.

Perhaps so. I'm just a little miffed because my original plan wasn't working out at all so I had to spin this up instead. Even worse, I ended up postponing Kimberly's coordination-centric chapters (which had been built up for nearly 20 or so chapters) because of that. Admittedly, Petyr (who I intend to bring on as a minor recurring character) has far more potential for exploring her coordination than the one-off Jasper Halworth, who can basically be summed up as a character concisely by how he was portrayed in Kim's meditation.

I dunno, just feels weird/bad to make effectively a 180 because things weren't working. I don't do that often. Maybe it's for the best sometimes.

your inner monologue/exposition reads a bit more elegantly than usual

I'm going to blame this on still being in the mindset for writing The Endless Seas. I've been plugging away at that for the past few days, so it's fresh in my mind.

Sometimes your dialogue doesn't come across quite naturally

Any specific examples come to mind? My guess is in Petyr's dialogue, as I dumbed him down a bit halfway through his part of the chapter. I tried to cover everything I'd written with his new personality but I might have missed a line or two.

Men in your stories tend to get the short end of the stick. ... He shows a sort of sweetness towards Kimberly that's different to a lot of the NPC politeness that I recall from the likes of Raven Duskwillow and other dad-characters.

Yes, I've been looking back at my male characters recently and noticed that trend. Petyr is a another step towards changing that, (Webster, Andrea's room mate, will continue this trend hopefully). We'll see some better decency out of my male characters going forward, and probably some more bitchiness out of my female characters. If there's too much of anything, it's probably softness from them.

 

[Misfit Angel]

Land of the Roses
Fame is a Treacherous Beast
A memory of Kimberly Fairbrooke​

December 25th
Visalia, Kingdom of Lanark

I was on top of the world that morning.

A few nights before -- the Day of Lovers' Remembrance, in fact -- I participated in my first 'professional' coordination contest, the Daughter of the Seas. It was held at the prestigious Lanark Center of the Arts, the most well-regarded museum in the kingdom, and possibly even the whole continent. A lot of eyes were on the festivities, and it was my chance to be noticed.

Of the eighteen contestants who entered that night, I was the ultimate victor, and the victory felt easy to me. No doubt, I had my coordination mentor and good friend, Petyr Milos, to thank for giving me the confidence to electrify the stage and for teaching me the skills needed to stun the judges. I needed to extend my gratitude to him again, later.

It's no secret to the people who know me well: I've struggled to find a career that fits me. A hobby that uses my time in a productive manner. A deeply held passion that defines my place in this world. That's why I was so happy that I found coordination, as I'd experienced a strong and successful start with it. The same could not be said for anything else I ever attempted, perhaps except for my financial investments, I suppose.

It felt like the first major success in my life, and it gave me a sense of satisfaction that I'd never felt before. I intended to prolong that feeling for as long as I could, and I knew just how to do it: another major contest was being hosted in the city of Alderny and I was intent on winning it. My entry application was already filled out and ready to be sent, resting on the desk in my private study. I hoped that the weather would improve some so that I could visit the post office to mail it away. Unfortunately it did not look like it would happen. I watched from the window of my bedroom as snow flittered down from the sky above... It's such a beautiful and marvelous sight... Snow is not common in Visalia, even during the darkest depths of winter.

But I couldn't let the beauty of the outside world distract me yet again. If I was to compete in Alderny's Rising Starlets contest, I needed to be ready, and to be ready meant having new routines drafted and practiced within a two week span. I felt so pressured for time that I got started right away; my hair was still a tangled mess, my pajamas were disheveled and I hadn't a care in the world for my personal appearance for once in my life. I grabbed my notebook and sat down at my vanity, pushing my cosmetics aside so that I could work comfortably.

New routines weren't my only concern, though. One that I wished to refine was the one that earned me my highest score of the night; it mixed my gymnastics expertise with my Wartortle's natural talent for twirling while hidden within his shell. Nicole initially devised this technique with him while I toyed with the idea of joining her as a professional competitive Pokémon trainer, and she called it 'Rapid Spin'. I never liked giving them such pompous and on-the-nose names, though I suppose I might have to if I want to be taken seriously as a coordinator. All of the big stars have silly names for their routines, names that sound like they've been lifted from an action anime.

"Perhaps... Spinning Mistress?" I asked myself. It did sound nice, and rolled off the tongue.

My chief concern with improving the Spinning Mistress was reducing how dizzying it was. Though I'd adopted the technique used by figure skaters and ballerinas to prevent that dizziness, I simply couldn't keep pace with Juliano as he rapidly spun in that shell of his. There had to be a way... Perhaps it was as simple as more pract--

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter!" I called out.

The door swung open and in stepped one of our family servants, perhaps my favorite one: the calm, collected and ever professional Giles Bendrick.

"Good morning, Ms. Fairbrooke!" he said with a tone of glee in his voice. I noticed a small collection of magazines were in his hands. "I brought you a gift, Ms. Fairbrooke. I was wondering if you would like them."

"Magazines? They're not typically what I read..." I said, glancing them over as he offered them to me.

"Yes. They belonged to my daughter, and I noticed that you were on the cover of one of them as she was reading through them. I thought that you might like to read the stories inside, apparently there is a big media buzz about your victory at the Daughter of the Seas."

"Is there?" I asked. I found that odd; while it was a big night for me, I can not forget the fact the contest I participated in was... perhaps not the most important one. Still, if people were talking about my victory, I was interested in reading about it! "Thank you! And extend my gratitude to Kendra as well!"

"I will. Now, is there anything I can do for you this morning?"

"No. Thank you!"

He smiled warmly and nodded courteously, then closed the door behind him as he took his leave. I returned to the vanity and placed the stack of magazines beside my notebook, then resumed my work. I had difficulty focusing on my notes, however; the magazines and the stories within called out to me. Perhaps one story wouldn't hurt... I could use a good stroke of the ego.

I picked up one of the magazines that featured a photo of me on the cover, the Visalia Informer. Right away, worry crept over me, and I could tell that Giles had not looked over the magazine carefully; on the corner of the cover read the words 'CONTROVERSIAL CLIMAX' in big bold lettering. Controversial?

I opened the magazine and found the story. My eyes widened as they scanned the color-drenched page... The main feature of the first page of the story was a photo of me, and a very unflattering one at that. My eyes were halfway closed and I appeared to be having trouble maintaining my balance... no doubt that photo was taken just after my final performance of the night, my Spinning Mistress routine. It sealed my victory, yet nearly cost me my dinner.

I began to read the article, which described many of my performances as 'sloppy' and 'yawn inducing'. Perhaps there was some merit to those criticisms... but as I read more and more, I began to realize that the article wasn't interested in fair and constructive criticism; I was held to a very high standard, one that would better apply to a skilled coordinator rather than the beginner that I am. My routines were dull and unoriginal? Of course! I'm still learning, and I know that I'm not ready to formulate something of my own. Though perhaps I did borrow a little too much from my mentor...

I closed the Visalia Informer and dropped it to the floor, then moved onto the next one, the Daily Sunrise. I wasn't on the cover of it, but the front page did mention the Daughter of the Seas and listed a page number. I opened to that page and was greeted with a colorful collage that showed off various photos of the contestants. There was Alexandra Goldbough and her gorgeous Wingull-themed ball gown; Reina Lluvia sported a colorful cultural dress from her homeland; Rosalina Kane was pictured with her royal-looking turquoise robes and silver tiara.

I was featured as well, with my custom tailored white and green mini dress from the Tombervilla fashion line, and below my photo was an analysis of my outfit:

'Kimberly looked cute in that Tombervilla dress, but it didn't fit her figure quite right. The tight fabric followed the contours of her body well. Too well in fact. The tightly wrapped royal green ribbon around her waist that she kept her Wartortle's luxurious Master Ball attached to was a brave idea, but brought extra focus to her bulging muffin top. The short cut on the bottom half, which appears to have been a custom alteration by her, also failed to hide her wide thighs. Unfortunately, despite her admirable performance on the stage, she has a lot to learn about her image if she wants to succeed as a coordinator.'

I instinctively reached down for my midsection and pinched the flabby skin just above my hips. I knew that I'd put on some weight since Nicole and I concluded our journey at the end of summer, but... had I put on that much? As I continued to read the magazine's analysis on the outfits of my fellow contestants, I thought about why I'd gained that weight in the past few months. The first and most obvious reason was that I got nowhere near as much exercise as I used to when we travelled the roads together... And then there was my father's legendary cooking that I looked forward to every night, in which he turned my bland vegetarian options into irresistibly delicious masterpieces -- unhealthy ones, no doubt.

My hands couldn't stop poking and prodding at my body as I thought about the last reason... Nicole had more or less abandoned me to focus on her career. We still talked sometimes, but not as much as I'd like, and it'd been difficult to adjust to daily life without her... The situation drained me of energy and often left me laying on the couch for long periods of time, indulging in comfort food to cover her absence. I knew that she was very important to me, but it never clicked in my head how much I depended on our friendship until recently.

Fat... Surely that couldn't be. I don't know why, but that mild mannered criticism of my attire and appearance stuck in me like a barbed thorn and encouraged me to look myself over. The more I did, the more I saw the truth in what the magazine was saying. I did have a large tummy, I did have jiggly thighs and I did have rather obvious bingo wings on my arms... I looked nothing like the fit and tone Britnee Bayton, a fellow contestant who earned the magazine's highest praise. Nor could I compete with Irena Butterscotch, the model-like mother of two who looked like a chiseled renaissance art masterpiece rather than an aging housewife. But I could a short few months ago...

Ugh. I'd had enough of it and vowed to return to my work as I pushed the Daily Sunrise off of my vanity and onto the floor. I picked up my pencil, but the stack of magazines lingered in the corner of my eye and called out to me. I shouldn't have, but I grabbed another, The Canalside Entertainer. This magazine didn't just feature me, it also had a photo of my coordination mentor, Petyr Milos, beside the photo of myself. Below it was a shocking allegation: 'SEXY SECRET REVEALED'. My heart rate spiked upon reading those words. I should have discarded that magazine immediately, but I was curious to know what this supposed secret was... and whether it was accurate.

The first two pages of the story were plastered with photos of myself and my coordination mentor on the night of the contest. The first photo showed my mentor and I meeting at a Mountain Rain café on Eilean Deas, the southernmost island of Visalia. My face wasn't visible in the photo, but his was; he had that caring and loving smile on his face that I always saw whenever him and I were together. The photo was captioned:

'WELL REWARDED?'
'Star of the night Kimberly Fairbrooke has clandestine meeting with major financier of event, Petyr Milos'

Clandestine meeting... A quiet meeting, certainly... With a good friend, and a mentor...

The next photo showed us stood atop one of the many bridges that link the city together, gazing into the moonlit waters. I must not have been paying much attention at the time, as I don't remember it, but my hand was wrapped around his waist, finding warmth from the chilly winter air in his front pocket. It too was captioned:

'LOVEBIRDS ON LONGBRIDGE'
'The two gallivanted across town, sharing romantic moments together such as this one'

Lovebirds... I suppose it can look like that, and there is a hint of truth to it... Petyr and I are closer than I ever expected us to be, but lovebirds? No... I wonder how much people actually know about us. We've made efforts to keep our personal relations private, but do people not know that I am a student of his? I was tempted to call him and ask, but... I would have struggled. Our relationship was unfortunately falling apart, despite how happy we looked in these photos...

A third photo appeared on the second page of the story, and it showed him and I outside the gates of Fairbrooke Manor together. He had his hand wrapped around my shoulder in a loving manner as I was hunched over, trying to unlock the gate. I remember that moment well... my hands were trembling from both the cold weather and my rising levels of the excitement at how the night turned out. He offered to unlock the gate for me, and when his hand brushed against mine as I gave him the keys, I remember my heart skipping a beat. I felt like I was in love... but I still wasn't sure of that.

'ESCAPING TO THE MANOR'
'After a moonlit walk through town, the two returned to her home together for some evening fun'

My heart started to race again. I began to understand what the story was implying... I scanned the article to see what was related to that photo and found it:

'The two were later spotted together outside of Fairbrooke Manor at about 11:15 PM. Kimberly appeared to be nervous about inviting him over, repeatedly looking over her shoulder. We got to know her as an innocent and pure woman through her performances and interview at the Daughter of the Seas, and she wanted to protect that persona just as much as she wanted to reward Petyr for his part in the scheme.

The two retreated to the privacy of the mansion but shared a kiss at the front door before going inside. She wasn't too into it, and likely just wanted to push through what she was agreed to do. A few moments later, a light turned on in one of the rooms, likely her bedroom, before Petyr drew the curtains. Shortly afterward, the light faded.

It's impossible to know for certain what happened beyond that point, but it's likely the two had sex at this point. Too many details line up to confirm the rumored allegations that we all suspected. Unfortunately, what was meant to be a fun and light hearted coordination contest was tainted all for the amusement and enjoyment of this wealthy pair.'

My eyes widened at what I read, so I flipped the page back and read the article from the start. The story alleged that Petyr and I conspired together to rig the contest and ensure my unearned victory. In return, the author theorized, I rewarded him by inviting him over for a passionate night together. The article went on further, theorizing that I paid him in full for the donation he made to ensure the event was properly financed, as he was not known to be wealthy enough to make that donation himself.

I could say for certain that that was not true, but... the article spoke with such confidence! I usually expect tabloids to be primarily fiction, but there were quite a few facts sprinkled throughout the article... It made me think: how much did the author actually know of what happened between us that night? What our professional relationship and personal relationship entails? Who wrote this awful story, and took these photos? Why would they publish such a story and target us? I looked at the author of the article as well as the person credited for the photos, but didn't recognize either name. The theory that my rivals were behind it was sunk instantly.

To think, I wasn't even a celebrity, yet I already had paparazzi following me around that night, helping to craft such a ridiculous and false story... Something didn't feel right... Many things didn't feel right, in fact... I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed each and every single magazine that Giles had given to me and tossed them into the rubbish bin beside my vanity. I didn't even care if Kendra wanted them back, they didn't deserve to be read.

Whatever the case, it was time to start my day... As I looked through my closet for the day's outfit, I heard my bedroom door open behind me. I turned around to see my mother walk in; just like her to never knock. At least I'm careful to never have anything to hide.

"I have some... tragic news, Kimberly," she started.

Oh dear. Mother usually never uses the word tragic without meaning it. This must be big. "What is it?" I asked.

"I'm going to have to cancel next week's plans. Likely the week after that, as well. A terrible disaster happened up north, in Glastonfell."

"Oh no, what happened?"

"Overnight, an earthquake struck the Glittering Sea. The town of Cold Harbor was devastated by the initial earthquake, and things only grew worse when a tidal wave struck a short time later."

"By the goddess... I assume this means that you plan to visit and see the destruction first hand?"

"Yes. I've begun organizing an expedition north with the help of several members from our family foundation. We're going to survey the damage so we best know how to respond to and repair it. I anticipate that I'll be gone for a few weeks at least, which means that I won't be able to attend your next coordination contest. I apologize."

"No, no," I said to reassure my mother. "It's disappointing, but I understand. Helping others is your calling in life, I don't want to pull you away from that simply to spend time with you. There is always another time."

She approached and knelt down beside me, gazing at me with those beautiful green eyes of hers. She clasped my hand within hers, and her eyebrows slanted with remorse. "I do feel bad that I missed your performance at the Daughter of the Seas, missed the entire holiday season as well, and I wish that I could take it back. I am not avoiding you, it has simply been a busy time of the year."

"I understand, mother. You do great things for a great number of people. I'm not angry that you prioritize your work when it brings such good to the world."

She smiled and pulled me in for a hug. "I'm not leaving for another three days. How about we spend some time together while we can?"

"I'd like that. But first, I need my morning shower."

"Still? It's nearly 11 AM!"

"Yes, I know. It's been a... an unusual morning for me..."

"Is everything okay?"

I couldn't bring myself to tell her about the awful stories in the magazines. Despite her lifelong career as a philanthropist, my mother -- bless her heart -- was not the best at empathy on a personal level. I doubted that she'd understand why the words in those publications got under my skin, and I doubted that she'd have helpful advice. I simply nodded.

"It's nothing to worry about," I assured her.

She smiled. "Good. I'll be waiting for you."

- - - - -​

Two days had passed, and in that time, the pressure of it all had been building up. Pressure that came to a head on that final day.

Every week, my father expects me to fix up dinner, to practice my cooking skills. He's long since given up on grooming me as the person to inherit his five star restaurant chain, but still wants me to learn regardless. That night happened to be my night for preparing dinner for the family and our manor staff, and so I visited the supermarket on that chilly afternoon to pick up some ingredients. Mother always insists on asking Giles to do so for me, but I don't mind doing so myself; that extra dedication comes through in my cooking, I like to think.

I wish I was more prepared for that outing. Typically, people more or less ignored me when I was out and about; a friendly greeting here, an apology if they bumped into me there, and that was usually that. But it felt different after I read those stories. As I wandered the aisles, I could feel the eyes of the other shoppers looking upon me... Staring. Judging. It was evident how far those scandalous rumors had spread by the way people whispered to each other as I walked by.

"There she is, honey," one whispered.

"Is that her?" a child asked of her parents before being whisked away. "Mama! I wanted to ask her a question!"

"I wonder who else she's fucking..." another said.

Even the woman at the register as I paid for my purchases seemed to look down on me. It felt very ironic; here stood a woman who likely struggled to make ends meet with her minimum wage service job, looking down on a well-off, well-to-do and charitable young lady. She didn't say much to me other than a half-hearted congratulations for winning the contest, but I could tell what was really in her heart. She thought she was better than me, that she lived a more honest life than me. That was what angered me the most about these allegations, the fact that my honor had been thrown in the mud and stepped on.

My experiences were similar when I visited my usual hair stylist, Mrs. Bellille. As I waited in the lobby for my appointment, I sat alone on the far side. I overheard some gossip about the Daughter of the Seas, including some about myself. Perhaps they didn't recognize me, but I figured they did. They talked about my 'sexy secret' as if it were an attempt of mine to have the spotlight shining on me. They talked about the dress I wore and how it didn't work on me. They talked about how the other girls who competed appeared more honest in their personalities and more skillful in their routines.

Ugh. All lies. I was ready to stand up and scream at those poor gossiping ladies, but kept it all locked away inside. I couldn't let the world defeat me, though it was slowly doing just that.

Mrs. Bellille was a voice of reason in the madness, thankfully. We discussed things as she trimmed my hair, ranging from my time spent with Nicole over the past year to what I planned to do in the future. Naturally, the allegations came up, but she appeared to be on my side. She didn't believe them, but warned me that I was likely to face more in the coming days.

She was right, and I worried about that. It was a miserable experience every time I walked around town, with people looking down on me rather than up to me, or more appropriately, as simply an equal. I was starting to slip into depression. I'd already started skipping meals in lieu of lazing about in bed, and that behavior was also eating valuable time that I could be spending with my mother before she leaves. I looked at my options for escaping it all. I could leave town for awhile and let things fade from peoples' minds. Perhaps even go as far as not deliver my application to the Rising Starlets contest and not participate. I could ask Nicole if she wanted to spend more time on the road together, though I doubt she would, especially with winter just starting.

Another option crossed my mind: my mother's upcoming relief work in Glastonfell. It would give me the three things I wanted in the moment: more time to spend with my mother, who I rarely saw these days; an opportunity to escape the drama and let it blow over; a chance at redemption for a crime that didn't happen, an opportunity to fix my reputation through selfless deeds and hard work. To show these miserable wretches who had targeted me that I wasn't the spoiled monster they painted me as. But before that, one thing needed to be done...

- - - - -​

The snow still fell on Visalia, and the sun retreated below the horizon much earlier than I'm used to. I was at Fairbrooke Manor at 5:00 PM... I felt so alone. So cold. So miserable.

I sighed. I was about to do something difficult. Something I didn't have the courage to do properly. I picked up my pen and began to write.

To my dearest Petyr,

How are you? Is everything well with you? Has anything been troubling you?

I... am sorry... I have been distant with you this past week. I wish I had a happier reason for being so, but I do not. Things have been troubling me... I do not know if you're aware of it yet, but I would be surprised if you weren't. Have you heard the rumors about me? About us? They've been growing in intensity lately, and nearly every television news broadcast or magazine published in the past week has featured a story about it... It's becoming overbearing, and I can't handle the pressure anymore.

I have decided to join my mother for her trip to Glastonfell tomorrow. We will be surveying the damage of the recent earthquake and making preparations for a greater relief effort. This will give me the opportunity to leave town and disappear from the public eye, so that these rumors disappear and we can resume our lives in peace. But that means that I will be gone for a few weeks at the very least, a few months at the very most.

With my time spent out of the country paired together with the rumors about us... I'm afraid it's time for us to go our separate ways.

I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You see, one of my main motivations for breaking it off is that our night together confirmed something that I'd long suspected about myself: I'm a lesbian. I thought that perhaps I could enjoy the intimate company of both genders, but

No, no. As much as being honest with him -- honest with myself -- was needed in that moment... I couldn't bring myself to write the truth. I wasn't sure that he would understand... I wasn't even sure that it would be wise to tell him. He was a good man, an innocent victim in this storm of drama. I couldn't risk denting his ego over my choice to confirm the truth about my sexuality, especially on a night that he thought was the beginning of the deepest level of our relationship.

I want you to know that none of this is your fault. I did enjoy our night together, and you are an excellent lover. It was lovely to share a warm bed for the first time in my life -- especially on a night as cold as the Day of Lovers' Remembrance -- wrapped in the embrace of someone who truly loves me... It's not something that I'll soon forget.

Unfortunately, the eyes of those who are targeting us will be upon us in the coming months, and it will be impossible to keep our relationship under wraps like we wanted. We both have much to lose if the details of our night together are confirmed. Your reputation as a fair and impartial mentor in the art of coordination is my chief concern... followed by my future as a coordinator, a passionate hobby that I very much want to partake in without the shadow of doubt looming over me. I worry that ship may have already sailed... but I am will try nevertheless.

I wish I had the courage to speak to you in person about this. I wish that I had the time to work this out, to figure out if there's any way for us to continue seeing each other. Unfortunately, time is something that I do not have; by the time you read this letter, I will already be on a train bound for the Glittering Sea.

I'm sorry.

Always your friend,
Kimberly Fairbrooke

I must have written that letter three times, and I couldn't even be honest with him... This stress is getting to me... Here's hoping that it doesn't destroy me...

 

[Beth Pavell]

I'm not sure if I've really absorbed this, despite being aware of some of the details beforehand. Nevertheless, some comments to bring up now:

I visited the supermarket on a chilly afternoon to pick up some ingredients for dinner

I'm not sure whether this bugs me or not, but Kimberly picks up her own shopping? Seems like chores like that would be one of the first things her mother would outsource to a servant domestic worker staff.

But I like the voice in this. It sounds about seventy years or so out of date, and has the air of Kimberly writing a memoir

 

[Misfit Angel]

I'm not sure whether this bugs me or not, but Kimberly picks up her own shopping?

Damn, now that I think about it, I could easily explain this and will make some edits. Basically, despite the fact that she's bad at cooking, her father still encourages her and asks her to prepare dinner once a week. There's a vast gulf between her tastes and her father's tastes, so she needs her own (fresh) ingredients much of the time.

The edits I'll make to the chapter will have to be brief (as this turned out uncomfortably long for a memory chapter), so I'll further explain why she picks up her own shopping: she's in a strange transitional period between her old life as a spoiled socialite and her current life as someone who understands the daily life of the poorer folks, a transition spurred by her year traveling the country. She's trying to rely less on help and be more independent, so that when she finally lives on her own, she's not shocked by the difference that having a large staff of servants has. She already learned that lesson hard at the start of her first journey.

But I like the voice in this. It sounds about seventy years or so out of date, and has the air of Kimberly writing a memoir

Good that I got the voice right, I did aim for something a bit antiquated as that's how she typically speaks, though I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it being compared to a memoir. My aim was to write something that happened recently, as if she were reflecting on the story a few days later. Maybe I did achieve that, and her stuffy voice just hams it up to autobiography levels of looking back.

On the note of voice, how terrible would it be if I were to try to mimic the voice here in Kimberly's focus chapters? I've been thinking about differentiating between different focus characters with different narration styles, but I worry about readability, especially with Kimberly's tone of voice.

 

[Misfit Angel]

Land of the Roses
Chapter 36: A Time of Opportunity

Society tells us to be comfortable with what we have. 'You're lucky to have it.' I don't believe that. When a new path opens for you, regardless of the risks, you should take it. By force, if necessary. It usually works out for the best in the end.​

~ Diana King, sitting MP for the City of Aughrim​

"Here ya go, little guy!"

Andrea watched with joy as her new Sentret bounced up and down with excitement and ran circles around Patrick's porch. In her hands was a left over granola bar that she packed for her lunch earlier in the day, pulled apart into little pieces. Every time she offered a piece to her new fuzzy friend, his energy levels and enthusiasm would rapidly increase.

"Don't fill up too much, dinner isn't far off!" she warned in a motherly tone.

The Sentret's excitement levels rocketed even further skyward upon the mention of dinner.

"C'mere, up you go!" she said as she grabbed him and brought him up onto her lap. She stroked him gently, eliciting a gentle purring sound out of him. "Your fur is so rough... We've gotta get you cleaned up and properly groomed soon. I should ask Kim if she has any advice... I'm kinda clueless about that stuff."

A few minutes later, Patrick returned home. He swung the gate to his property open and smiled as he saw the two interacting with each other. "Oh, hey! Enjoying the weather, I take it?"

"I am! It's actually warm today, and it's given me an excuse to spend some time with my little fuzzykins here. I want him out of his Pokéball, but I'm hesitant to bring him out in the house when you're not around."

"I appreciate that." He knelt down and offered his hand out to the Sentret. "It's a little early to ask, but how's he been adjusting from wild life so far? Do you think he's going to be a handful at all?"

"I don't think so, no. He's been adjusting remarkably well... I wonder if this guy was someone's pet that escaped, or maybe he was abandoned. He already responds to requests and orders without putting up too much of a fight."

"That's good. Thought of a nickname for him yet?"

She shook her head. "Nothing good. I thought about calling him simple like Furball, but I don't know. Do you think it fits him at all?"

He put his hands up defensively. "I'm the last person you want to ask. I didn't even name my Flareon, someone else did."

"Hmm." She lifted her Sentret up onto her shoulders, then gently bobbed back and forth to entertain him. "I'll tell you what I have thought, though. You know how when we first captured him, he had some sort of, like, black claw attack? I did some preliminary research, and it sounds -- and looked -- a lot like something that high level competitive trainers like to call 'Shadow Claw'."

"Shadow Claw, huh? Sounds powerful."

"According to the Rose League Trainer's Encyclopedia, there are no documented cases in any sanctioned league competition of a Sentret being able to do something like this... But, before we get carried away: Sentret and Furret are ranked among the least popular choices in competitive training, even below that sewer sludge, Grimer. So... there's a chance that they can do it, but I didn't find any records." She offered the final piece of her granola bar up to her Sentret. "I'm just wondering if we stumbled on one of those rare Pokémon that have the ability to master techniques they usually aren't known for."

He couldn't believe it. It was too lucky. "There's gotta be another explanation. You and I both know how damned rare those things are, and we just happened to find one as we stroll the park? I don't think so."

"Yeah... it does seem a little too good to be true, doesn't it? I could be barking up the wrong tree, anyways; during my research, I stumbled on a blog post on the internet that appeared to mention Shadow Claw and Sentret in the same paragraph, but it's in a language I don't understand... looked like Shinikari, but it could be any one of those squiggly far east languages."

"I could have one of our chemists, Hikari, look at it for you. She knows a couple languages from over there, and I know she's currently studying Shinikari."

"If she wouldn't mind, sure. But this whole thing makes me think... what if this little guy is one of those rarities? Science hasn't had a proper and rigorous look at one yet... and one might be sitting on top of my head right now."

"Rule #1 of scientific research: don't get your hopes up until you have the evidence in your hand."

"I know, I know... But I want to start taking this little guy out to see what he's capable of."

"Well! You might have the opportunity to do so soon, because I've got some good news for you." He opened the door and motioned for her to enter? "How about we go inside and talk? I really need to get off my feet... or get a second chair for the porch!"

She dropped her purse off on the couch, then followed Patrick into the dining room. After taking a seat by the window, she patiently waited for him to explain what he wanted to tell her; but he was silent. Instead, he rifled through the papers in his messenger bag until he found the right one.

"Before we begin, I want to explain something. Doranshire was meant to be your final probationary assignment before we bumped you up to permanent, low level staff... But that assignment completely fell apart. I'm not blaming you, it's just that it was a bad idea to send you out there without Tamara Dahl."

"Quick question, first: any word on what's been going on with the search for her?"

He shrugged. "It's almost like nothing is happening with that, it's been so quiet. But I'm not a cop, so I really wouldn't be privy to that knowledge."

"Ugh... Anyways, Doranshire... I thought I did okay, all things considered."

"You did okay, yes, but it didn't really show Dr. Reiland and I what we were hoping to see out of you. At least, not enough of it! So, I've been thinking of pulling you off of Xander's team and assigning you to something else that will."

She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "I would appreciate that. That team is really... At least it was a little bit better today. Xander apologized to me this morning, but other than that, we don't mesh together very well."

"Yeah, I noticed. I've been paying close attention to you since you were hired. When you first walked out of Dr. Reiland's office after getting the job, you were like a kid in a candy store, wide-eyed and full of wonder. Then when I saw you after you'd worked with that team, it's like the life was sucked out of you... Then we went to Balmore and you were good as new! This morning... sadness again."

"I'm just trying to adjust. It's been difficult, I've been out of a job for nearly half a year, and my last job wasn't... wasn't exactly professional."

"I understand, which is why I want to assign you to some more field research. That'll give you more time to adjust to working in a professional environment before you're in the office more."

"In the lion's den, you mean."

"One day, you'll be proud to be in that pride of lions."

"Ha! So, more field research, huh? What is it this time? Am I chasing more ghosts?"

"No. A new contract just came in, and it's a big one. It's from the Eckhardt Steel Corporation, they say they're having trouble with an unidentified creature in some of the service tunnels under one of their main steel foundries. They want us to investigate what that creature is, track it down and deal with it if we can."

"What kind of trouble? Any indication of what it could possibly be?"

"They've sent photos along with the contract," he said, emptying the folder of a dozen photos. "I don't want to say with certainty, but based on what I see, we're probably looking at an Onix. Or possibly, considering it's under a steel mill, maybe even a Steelix."

Andrea studied the photos closely. The first few that caught her attention featured a large industrial tunnel bore bearing the corporate logo of Eckhardt Steel that had been completely smashed to pieces. Others displayed a damaged pipe that had spilled molten material all over the floor of one of the rocky tunnels; the pipe appeared to have several large bite marks taken out of it. Another set of pictures showed a large and jagged tunnel carved into the rock, completely unlike the smooth tunnels that Eckhardt Steel typically produce with their industrial equipment.

"Huh, yeah, that's some pretty serious damage... And you're right, it does look consistent with an Onix... Where is this steel mill, at their corporate HQ in Steelport?"

"Yes, nearby."

She leaned back and thought it over. "An Onix, in the hills... Near Rustlode and Highbend, sure, but Steelport? They're usually only found near mountains."

"Look at you, so knowledgeable!"

"Ugh, c'mon, you've really gotta stop saying that!" she giggled. "Biology is my thing, of course I know that... What I'm not knowledgeable on is local geography. I know there are a lot of hills nearby, but I don't think there are any mountains, right? I've never visited, so I don't know for certain."

"Unless one has popped up in the past few years, none... The closest that I can think of is Sonetta Mountain, but that's pretty far away. Closer to Rustlode than Steelport. That fact alone is what's stopping me from being 100% certain of what they're dealing with. But we won't know until we send someone out there!"

She continued to study the photos and worried about the potential danger involved if they discovered the creature responsible for it. "If I take this task, who's coming along with me? This is a lot bigger than an out-of-shape girl and her new sickly Sentret."

"From the Reiland Institute, just myself. I've made some arrangements to bring some extra Pokémon with me as well. And, Roy Eckhardt III, the CEO's son, is interested in monitoring our progress. He'll be coming along as well. He's one of Lanark's official gym leaders, so I think we'll be safe with him around."

A sigh or relief escaped her. "That's good! I was worried that it might have been just me again."

He nodded. "The situation in Doranshire and the recent rise in kidnappings across the country have taught us some things. Unless it's a small and easy project within Loch Alstan, nobody at the Reiland Institute is doing field work alone anymore so long as I'm a member of the senior staff. So, you ready for this?"

She smiled. "I think so!"

"Good! Unfortunately, that means having a conversation you probably don't want to have... You're going to need some new clothes for this assignment."

She raised her eyebrow at the suggestion. "Explain."

"As you can see from the photos that Eckhardt Steel sent us, we'll be cave diving for much of this assignment. This work will also be very physically demanding, and I don't think a loose flowing dress will work in your favor."

She studied the photos again and realized he had a point; the jagged tunnels left behind by the creature did look quite treacherous. If they were meant to track down whatever was boring them out of the bedrock, she'd likely have to scrabble over loose stone and broken terrain which would certainly be difficult in her typical clothing. "What's your suggestion, then? I don't know the first thing about... well, physical activity, to put it bluntly." she said with a laugh.

"Something snug that won't get snagged on the stone, or in the way at all. It doesn't have to be skinny jeans or anything like that, but I'd encourage you to pick out something that'll be suitable for rock climbing, just in case our investigation comes to that."

"Pants, you mean. I haven't worn those since I was a kid..."

"I'm thinking something like hiking shorts. The Eckhardt Steel representative also told me that some of the tunnels we'll be exploring regularly reach temperatures around 50°C, so you'll have to take that into consideration, too."

"U-Uhh, 50°C?" she quivered.

"Yeah. Apparently part of their steel manufacturing process involves extracting geothermal energy from the depths of the earth for their blast furnaces. I dunno, it's some technical magic that I don't understand. Point is, you're going to want something that'll be comfortable in hot temperatures, too."

"Ugh..."

"Well, you don't have to take this assignment on if something like that will be a problem, but you'll be missing out on a great opportunity to prove yourself. And I doubt Dr. Reiland will look favorably on your reason for declining it..."

"No, I don't mind. It's just kind of annoying... I'm meant to be saving up my money, not spending it on clothes I'll only ever wear once."

"I know this was sprung on you with very little notice, I apologize."

"'s fine. I'll do this."

"So. Clothes shopping tomorrow morning, then?"

She nodded.

"Good. Well, that's out of the way! Now, I forget... it's my turn to fix up dinner tonight, right?"

"Nope, mine."

- - - - -​

"Oh, you asshole!" A smile appeared on Andrea's face as she grumbled; she watched Patrick place down a colorful wild draw four card onto the table. She drew four cards from the deck and motioned for him to continue. "Your turn again, I think?"

He nodded. "Green." he said, then placed a green four card on top of it. "Uno!"

She laughed, then picked a blue four out of her 13-card hand. "God, I haven't played this stupid game in years, no wonder I'm doing so badly."

He had no playable cards, so he drew from the deck one by one. One card... two cards... three... Eventually, he found a blue two on his sixth draw. "There's not a lot of skill in Uno, to be fair. Especially if you're just having fun like we are."

"Fair point," she responded as she slapped down a red two.

"Damn, red again?" he lamented, drawing another card. A devious grin appeared on his face as he placed down the card he had just drawn, another wild draw four.

"Oh come on!" she joyously shouted. She drew her four cards and waited patiently for him to make his next move.

"Back to green," he announced, placing a green five down.

She searched her cards for a green or a five, but didn't find one. "Oh my god... I'm going to have the entire deck in my hands at this rate."

He snickered.

She started to draw more cards, but was interrupted by a buzzing sound that came from below the table. She reached into her stocking, pulled her phone out and checked to see who was calling. "Oh... It's my dad. I should probably take this call, if you don't mind?"

He nodded. "I don't. Family is important, go for it."

She excused herself from the table and made her way to the front porch. "Hello!"

"Andrea!" her father energetically replied. "I like that you answer the phone every time I call now!"

"Yeah, well... Things have changed for the better, I guess! So what's up? How'd that horticultural show that mom dragged you to go?"

Her father laughed. "I was way outta my element. She practically did the judging for the both of us!"

"I figured that'd happen. I still can't believe you actually agreed to that."

"The things you do for love..."

"Yeah, tell me about it..." she whispered in somber agreement. "Is she there? Would I be able to speak to her, maybe?"

"She's not. She's back in our hotel room resting, she's feeling a little under the weather."

"Aww, that sucks. She gets home after eight years abroad and the first thing she does is get sick? The Dennison curse strikes again."

"Yeeeep. I'm hoping it's not the case, but I wonder if she caught Sakala Fever in her last few days over there. She's got all the symptoms, and she told me the story of how she took part in one last jungle expedition just before she came home."

She gasped. "Uhh, Sakala Fever? Isn't that, like, really bad?"

She could tell that he was shrugging as he thought about it. "Over there, yeah. But we've got modern medicine in this country. She'll be right as rain in a couple days, once we get her to a doctor... It's a bit unfortunate, though."

"Yeah, of course it is."

"No, I mean... your mother and I were planning on making a surprise visit to Loch Alstan tomorrow, to come see you! But I think it's best that we put that off for a bit. We don't want to get you sick, too."

Her heart rate increased as she thought about her parents coming for a visit; over the past few months, she'd spun a complex web of stories that detailed how much her life had improved since the start of the year, a majority of stories that were either embellished or outright untruthful. "Oh! Uhh... yeah... It's a good thing you're not visiting, actually. The Reiland Institute is shipping me out to Steelport tomorrow for a field assignment, so I won't be here for awhile."

"Oh, really? What are you doing?"

"Cave diving with my supervisor to search for either an Onix or a Steelix... or maybe something else. We won't be sure until we find it."

"Cave diving, you say? Sounds fun! And you're taking on an Onix, too? Hell yeah, that's my girl! But are you sure you can handle something like that? Those things are destructively dangerous."

"I admit, the idea of tracking an Onix down is a scary task, but I'll have people who will protect me by my side."

"That's good... So, uhh... When you're done in Steelport, how about you swing by Goldwheat for a visit on your way home? It's been almost a year and a half since I've seen ya..."

"Hmm. I'll talk to my supervisor and see if I can fit that in... He's a pretty easy going guy and might let me visit for a couple hours, but I don't want to make any promises."

"Of course."

She looked at her R-Kit to check the time. "Speaking of, I should probably think about getting ready for bed. I've gotta get up very early to tie up some loose ends before we catch the train to Steelport. I'll see you soon, maybe?"

"Sure thing, sweetie. I love you, and I'm proud of your accomplishments so far!"

"Mmm. Good night." She sighed as she hung up and put her phone back into her stocking. "A visit from my parents? I can't keep putting that off... But I've gotta get my shit together somehow, and quick."

 

[Beth Pavell]

Seems like quite a short chapter this time round - I haven't actually checked the wordcount on this one, but it seems like it.

My gripes about the Institute's use of human resources stand, but they are somewhat mollified by at least a sensible assignment for Andrea. Patrick knows damn well fieldwork is where she's been of most use, and given that no-one at the Institute seems to know what else to do with her, that's where she should be. I don't believe that the phone call scene is really intended to set up Andrea wriggling out of some lies, at all.

Funny how she becomes a twee little bundle of clichés when faced with a fluffball, but that's what happens to pet owners, I suppose

 

[Misfit Angel]

Author's note: It's time for another boring fashion chapter! My sincerest apologies.

Land of the Roses
Chapter 37: Dress to Impress

Clothing has probably been mankind's greatest invention, it gives us all an opportunity to truly express ourselves how we want. It saddens me that most people these days are satisfied with a simple t-shirt and jeans when there's so much out there!​

~ Nicole Spencer, creator of the Misfit Angel fashion line​

DING DING! DING DING!

The warning bell of the Alstan Downtown Trolley tolled as it puttered down Central Street towards a congested intersection, scattering the pedestrians and bicyclists as it approach. At the rear end of the trolley car, Andrea and Patrick patiently waited for their stop in silence; Andrea had her attention buried in her R-Kit, refreshing her knowledge about various earth-dwelling Pokémon that they might encounter while in the caverns beneath the city of Steelport, while Patrick was scanning the street names as they passed by.

As soon as he saw the sign for Craft Street appear, he stood up and approached the rear exit of the trolley car. "Hey, Andrea. Let's hop off here."

"Huh?" she asked, turning off the screen on her R-Kit. "Aren't we getting off on Broad Street?"

He shook his head. "Before we head to the outfitter, I want to visit someone first."

"It won't take long, will it? I don't want to get wrapped up and miss the train."

"We'll be fine, we've still got a few hours! Let's go, her apartment is up this street."

"Apartment? Who?" she demanded, but didn't get an answer back. "Patrick! You need to start communicating with me better!" she snapped. "I don't like following you around without knowing where I'm going, and you've been doing that to me a lot since we met."

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'll try to be better about that, I didn't think about it."

"Thank you."

"I want to stop by Emily's place, first. Her and I talked a bit about the Eckhardt Steel contract before I came home yesterday, and I mentioned that you and I would be going clothes shopping. She said she wanted to come along and hang out before she goes into work for the day."

"Oh, okay! That's cool, I like Emily. I'll be happy to have her along."

"Maybe she can give you some fashion advice, too. Teach you what it's like to look like a normal girl." he joked. He hopped off of the trolley while it was still in motion and beckoned for her to follow.

She didn't pick up on the fact that he was joking and sneered at his comment. She hopped off as well, nearly losing her footing as she tried to avoid stumbling into a large puddle. "I don't need fashion advice. If anything, I could teach others."

"No offense, and I say this as someone who likes your sense of fashion, but you'll struggle to find anyone who wants to learn. Most people grow out of that phase before they finish high school."

"It's not a phase!" she shouted. She covered her mouth and started to laugh. "Oh my god, I didn't just say that, did I?"

It was a quicker walk than Andrea expected; within a few short minutes, they'd arrived at a nondescript nine-story-tall brick building. Patrick pulled out his phone and sent a message to let Emily know that they were waiting for her, then placed it back into his pocket. A few more short minutes later, the door to the building swung open and Emily stepped out to greet the two warmly, giving them each a vice-like bear hug.

"Good morning!" Emily said with cheer in her voice. "I'm ready to go! Where are we off to first?"

"Up to Broad Street. Andrea and I are going to need something for warm weather and I'd say there's no better place than Sunset Apparel."

It wasn't the first time she did so, but Andrea took the opportunity to balk at the suggestion again in front of Emily. "Where all those university chads get their salmon pink polo shirts and acid washed jeans? I doubt I'll find any black clothes there."

"You'd be surprised at what they have."

- - - - -​

The floor space of Sunset Apparel was crammed to capacity with racks of clothes and tables covered in accessories. Disturbingly life-like mannequins dotted the shop floor in strategic locations, showing off the upcoming summer's pre-ordained 'hottest' -- and most expensive, conveniently -- fashion styles. Andrea found the layout of the store to be very poorly designed, but knew that it had been purposefully laid out that way; it was designed to separate similar clothing items from each other with different items mixed in between, to encourage customers to spend more time in the store, and thus more money as they browsed.

"You know, aside from the fashion, I never really adapted the hateful doom and gloom personality of goth culture all that much," Andrea commented. "But boy, do I still feel out of place here... It's too... normal. Too corporate."

Emily nodded as the pair split from Patrick and headed for the women's section. "And you look out of place, too. I get the feeling that you don't do anything other than black. Maaaaaybe lavender and red in small amounts?"

"Not really, no, and I'd like to stick to that if I can. But... if you've got any advice, I'm all ears."

Emily walked up to one of the mannequins and ran the fabric of the t-shirt on it between her fingers. "What do you think you'll need? Patrick only told me that you would probably need some new clothes for the assignment, but he didn't tell me what you guys were doing."

"He suggested something that'll be comfortable in high temperatures, yet suitable for rock climbing and hiking."

"Oh, rock climbing, huh? I used to do that before my medical degree ate all of my free time. How about these denim shorts? They even come in black, just for you!"

She grabbed a pair off of the rack and placed them against her waist to measure them against herself. They looked comfortable and snug, but the bottoms of the legs ended about five centimeters higher compared to the bottom of her dress. She felt a little cautious about showing off more than she usually did and looked for a longer pair, but quickly realized that with greater length came a greater waist size. "Uhh..."

"You like 'em?" Emily asked.

"I actually do, but... Hmm..."

Emily nodded. "I think they'll look great on you! They'll let you show off those impressive gams of yours, too. Uhh, if that's what you like to do, I mean."

She fidgeted lightly as she thought it over. "Heh, yeah, I kinda like doing that... But..." Her chief concern was that she'd be wearing them in front of Patrick and that she might be sending the wrong message with them. At the same time, they offered the comfort she knew she was going to need while in those boiling subterranean tunnels while still maintaining a similar appearance to her usual. "Ehh, screw it, these are fine! If I start getting picky, I'll never find anything that matches what I really want." She grabbed a second pair off of the rack and brought them along with her.

Emily looked around, mapping out the layout of the floor as she found the signs that designated the different sections of the shop. "I'll assume that you don't actually own any proper tops to pair with those."

"I don't."

"Right then! Let's go pick out something nice."

Emily led her deeper into the store, past the activewear section, the beachwear section and the intimates section. Along the way they passed hats, sunglasses, tacky fake jewelry and novelty t-shirts which expressed the wearer's love of wine, tanning and being lewd and rude.

"Yikes... and they market this shit to teenagers?" Andrea commented, showing off a shirt that had "I'm a fucking princess, bitch!!!" printed on it in glittery pink lettering.

Emily nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and it only seems to be getting more and more crude as the years go by. I hope the teenage culture is a bit more refined when I start having kids, otherwise I'm gonna have to be one strict mama."

"Yeah..."

To their benefit, the clothing was sorted by color, making the darker shades that Andrea preferred much easier to find, and the two split up as they searched the racks. Unfortunately, dark didn't appear to be fashionable by Sunset Apparel's standards; when it came to button tops and t-shirts, the darkest they could find was a deep green that both found to be ugly.

Eventually, Andrea happened upon a rack of tank tops and found a black one. The question of showing off too much came to mind again, and combining it with her new shorts was certainly more than enough. Once again, a voice in her head encouraged her to consider it, citing the very low price on the tag. She took one last look, -- not a hard one, she'd admit -- at the available button shirts before deciding to go with the tank top. She grabbed another to compliment her two pairs of shorts, then approached Emily to tell her that she found what she was looking for and was done shopping.

The price that came up on the register was much less than she expected, a fact that brought her a bit of relief. She thought back to her high school days and always remembered the popular brands of clothing -- Sunset Apparel being one of the most popular at her school -- being quite pricey. She was worried she'd have to break the bank with her purchases and derail her desires to move out on her own, but thankfully that didn't happen.

As Emily made her own purchases, Andrea scanned the store for any signs of Patrick, eventually spotting his bright red hair in the sportswear section. "Looks like Patrick isn't done yet. Want to wait for him outside? This stupid pop music makes me want to kill myself."

Emily giggled at the dramatic flare attached to her words. "Sure."

- - - - -​

Ten minutes went by as the two paced about impatiently, waiting for Patrick to finish his shopping. They were silent for the most part, and struggled to find a conversation they could both carry for longer than a minute. Eventually, Emily settled on a rumor she heard: "So. I heard that you and Patrick are living together."

Andrea briefly seized up at the question, but realized she had nothing to gain from lying. "That got out quick. Yes. We are."

Emily's eyes widened and a smile appeared on her face. "So it is true! What's the story behind that?"

Andrea was concerned by Emily's excitement levels. "Uhhh, well? It was either that or quit. I didn't realize how crazy expensive this town is, and it'll be awhile before I can afford my own place... He didn't want to see me on the streets or lose this job, so he offered to let me stay for a bit and I accepted. I don't have any other friends in town, so it was my only option."

"Oh! That's not the story that I was expecting, but it does make sense... This is an expensive town."

She raised her eyebrow. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"Well... The rumor that I heard was that you and him were... well... ya know..." She took her index finger and her thumb on one of her hands and formed a loop with them, then brought the index finger of her other hand in and out of it rapidly. "Mmm-mmm."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Really? Do people have nothing better to do than talk about shit like that?"

"Seems so."

"My god, what the fuck did I do to these people to deserve this? Already? I've only been in the office for two days!"

"I don't think it's anything to do with you. It's probably Patrick -- he's a natural drama magnet, it seems -- who was the target."

She shook her head and grumbled quietly. "Fucking ridiculous..."

"Sorry, it was my mistake to bring it up. I-I-I... I don't want it to seem like... I don't know. My bad."

"No, it's okay. I'm not going to shoot the messenger. At least... now I know that I'm not safe from this nonsense, either."

Silence quickly overtook the two; Emily paced about awkwardly as they continued waiting for Patrick, while Andrea sulked in silence, leaned up against the building. She wondered why she was targeted by such rumors, but she wasn't surprised at the same time. People already seemed to have a problem with her before she spent her first full day in the office after her time in Doranshire, but why? And how did people figure out so quickly that she was living with Patrick? She didn't believe that he was the one to seed the rumor with that information; it didn't make sense considering how much he hated the rumors already circulating about him. That information must have gotten out some other way, and she wanted to know how, and who.

She looked over at Emily to find a look of defeat on her face. She felt bad about it and wanted to smooth things over. However, her primary interest was setting the record straight. "It's not true, by the way. Not that it's anyone's business."

"I can see why you reacted that way, then."

"Yeah, sorry. I was out of line. It's just very frustrating. Nobody is going to take me seriously and my career is going to go nowhere if this keeps up." She nodded, then sighed again. "You and Patrick have known each other for a long time, right? I got that feeling when he introduced you to me."

"We have! I must have met him, what is it... six, seven years ago, now?"

"Tell me, and please be honest: what do you make of the rumors about him? Should I be worried about him creeping on me at all?"

Emily leaned up against the brick wall of the building and, with a smile on her face, shook her head. "I really doubt it. He's not a bad guy. He values honor, and usually asks before he does something."

"Yeah! That's what I've been experiencing! Why the hell do people think he's some sort of weirdo?"

Emily shrugged. "Beats me, but I have a theory. Patrick and I used to be a thing awhile back. We were dating before I joined the Reiland Institute, but nobody else knew about that when I was hired. This is where my theory comes in: people must have seen how he was flirting with me while we were on the clock. I was always focused on my work, so I usually never responded in kind... and I think that formed an image in peoples' minds."

"Didn't you two explain that you were together?"

"By the time anyone cared, we'd already broken up for other reasons." She paused and looked at the ground. "I don't know for certain. It's all petty office politics, and I try to stay out of it all. All that matters to me is that him and I managed to maintain our friendship through both the breakup and all of the drama... He still means a lot to me, even if we've grown apart in that sense."

Andrea nodded. "Sooooo... Maybe I should lighten up a little around him?"

"I think he'd be happy with that. I personally would if I were in your position, but that's ultimately up to you. I've always known him to be a teddy bear, and I feel like you can let your guard down around him... But at the same time, I've also never known him to be so generous to someone he just met, either. Asking you to move in with him so quickly is a little odd, so... Don't be surprised if he tells you some day that he has feelings for you."

"Hmm."

"He's also turning 30 this year... Now, this is pure speculation on my part, but he might also be trying to be more bold with --" She hushed herself as the door into Sunset Apparel opened up and Patrick stepped out with two bags of clothing in his hands. She immediately pivoted and greeted him enthusiastically. "There you are! We've been waiting so long we've gotten to work on our tans out here! I think Andrea's about three shades darker now."

She laughed. "Not very difficult to achieve that!"

"Sorry for taking so long, ladies. Summer's coming up, so I figured I'd get all of my shopping done while I'm here." He turned to Andrea. "How about you? Get everything you needed?"

Andrea raised her bag and nodded. "I didn't even spend as much as I expected, either. So, we're heading home now?"

"There's one more stop we need to make," he answered.

Emily looked down at her R-Kit to check the time. "I'd love to hang out some more, but I should probably bounce if I'm going to get my new clothes home and make it to work on time."

"Right. See you soon!" Patrick added.

Emily gave each of them a hug. "It was short but it was fun! Good luck you two, and try not to get yourselves hurt!"

He gave her a sly smile. "But then I won't have an excuse to visit you for treatment!" He waved her good bye as she rushed to catch a passing trolley. "I don't want to make a promise I'll struggle to keep!"

Andrea stretched as she looked at the time on her own R-Kit. Two hours remained before their train to Steelport was scheduled to depart, plenty of time for Patrick to do whatever he needed. "Okay, so, where are we going next?"

He led her down the road, further into the heart of downtown. "Armeier's. It's a few blocks up this way."

"Armeier's?" she questioned, as if it weren't a serious suggestion. "Isn't that the place for fancy rich people?"

He nodded. "Closer to budget fancy, but yes. We're going to need a few things from there."

She crossed her arms and tilted her head as she looked up at him. "I don't get it. Why are we going to need fancy clothing if we're going cave diving?"

"It's not the spelunking we need the clothes for, it's something else. Are you familiar with the Eckhardts at all? You know, as a family, not necessarily as a business."

"Uhh... As a family... Not really. The best I can say is that they've got some old racist guy in as the CEO, but that's about it."

Patrick couldn't contain a burst of laughter. "True! But you'd be wise not to point that out when you meet him. Anyways, of the top ten richest people in the country, the Eckhardts have seven people on that list. Eleven in the top twenty-five."

"I still don't get it."

"Dr. Reiland got in touch with me while you were in the shower. She's cautious --"

Annoyed yet again, she stopped in her tracks. "And you waited until now to bring this up? We must have sat on that trolley in silence for almost ten minutes!"

"Yes, yes. I know. I'm sorry. I already know that I need to be better with communication, so you don't need to bite my head off about it again. I'll work on it. I've got a lot on my mind about this project."

"Sorry, go on."

"It's okay. Now, Dr. Reiland is cautious about upsetting the Eckhardts and wants us to... 'look the part' so to say. You see, back before the royal family abolished the concept of noble houses at the end of the Great War, the Eckhardts were one of the most powerful ones due to their wealth and monopoly of the steel industry. Nearly threw the kingdom into civil war, but that's another story! Anyways, they may not be noblemen anymore, but they certainly believe they still are. This is a very important and very lucrative contract. It could end the institute's financial struggles for awhile, so you and I, as official representatives of the Reiland Institute, are to play their little game of self-importance. That means dressing in our Sunday best when we meet them."

"I dunno. I think this is good enough," she replied, grabbing the hem of of her dress and lifting it slightly. "But I'll follow your judgement on this one. You are in charge after all."

"Thanks for not being too fussy, considering I keep springing things on you. When we get on the train, I'll explain everything: any details you're confused about, what I have planned, where we're going, all of that."

She smiled. "Sounds good."

"And, think of it this way. You'll have something nice to wear to the institute's Lovers' Remembrance party at the end of the year!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, now..."

- - - - -​

"If this is my last probationary assignment," Andrea mused as she wandered the aisles of Ameier Outlets with a renewed focus. "I may as well make it count. No more dragging my feet and complaining. I have to show that I'm ready -- no, happy to step out of my comfort zone if the job requires it."

Despite her earnest desire at looking the part of a dowdy sycophant, she realized that she was clueless about what that would mean. She idly paced about, pausing every few moments to wonder what color to wear or even what style to start with; her only proper exposure to self-important wealthy types was Kimberly, and she couldn't even say for certain if her friend was actually self-important. Impressing someone like that would be impossible.

An employee of the store noticed the lost look on her face and approached. "Good morning, ma'am!" he greeted her, his words tinged with the mannerisms of a haughty upperclassman. "May I help you find anything?"

"I need... something... fancy," she answered slowly, unsure of what she should specify.

"You've come to the right place, then! Do you have anything specific that you're looking for?"

"Uhh... No, not really. I don't usually buy clothes like these, but I'm meeting someone important and I need to look sharp."

The employee nodded. "What kind of meeting? The type of meeting dictates the style. Business, perhaps? Meeting a long distance romantic partner for the first time? A family member's graduation? A co-workers retirement party?"

"Business. My employer is sending me to visit Roy Eckhardt II, the CEO of Eckhardt Steel. I'm supposed to be representing my company, so I should probably look nice."

"Oh, interesting! Yes, that sounds like a business meeting to me. I already have an idea! Please, follow."

"Any guidance you have is very appreciated."

"Based on what I know about Mr. Eckhardt... he has some, how to say... 'outdated' ideas about the way the world is meant to work. Are you looking to play into those ideas at all?"

"What do you mean by that? I don't know anything about him at all."

"Well. I don't consider myself an expert on the man, but I do know that he grew up in an era where far fewer people enjoyed the social privileges they do today -- women included. Much was expected of your gender back then, including choice of clothing, and I do believe he still holds the ideals of that time close to his heart." He buried his hand into a rack of clothes and returned with a pastel pink fit-and-flare styled dress, accented with white buttons and trim around the sleeves and collar. "I was thinking that this vintage piece, borrowing from the designs of the late 1950s, would suit your purposes well if you are looking to earn Mr. Eckhardt's favor."

"Hmm..."

"The pink tone will help highlight your delicate feminine side, while the white can represent innocence and obedience."

She couldn't help but laugh, but tried to contain it. "Obedience... The 1950s were a messed up time, weren't they?"

The man nodded. "Quite."

"It's cute, but... I don't really like pink. Do you have this in other colors?"

"I believe we do." He placed it back on the rack and led her further down the aisle. "Would you be fine with a yellow tone? That may be more to your liking."

"Yellow... hmm..."

He picked a similar styled dress off of the rack, its pastel yellow accented with a deeper gold. "I was thinking that it would appeal more towards his family pride. You see, gold is a color traditionally associated with the Eckhardts. I believe their company logo features shades of gold, as did their family crest in centuries past. It would also pair well with that lovely sandy blonde hair of yours."

She smiled at the comment as she ran her fingers down the luxuriously soft fabric of the dress. "Yes... I'd rather appeal to his pride than his outdated views of the world... Would yellow symbolize anything, like pink does?"

"Gentleness, happiness and friendliness are all evoked by the color yellow, if those mean anything to you."

"I am trying to work on my friendliness... Uhh..." She tried to imagine herself in it: in her mind's eye, she looked ridiculous, but she tried to push that aside; she felt she looked ridiculous in anything that wasn't dark in color and theme. At the end of the day, she probably wouldn't be wearing it often enough to worry too much about it, which sealed the deal. "This will do. Thank you."

"Very well! Do you need anything else?"

She lifted a foot off the ground to show off her rugged and dirty buckle-bound boot. "I'll probably want some better shoes for this, won't I?"

The man's eyes widened. "Dear lord! Did you walk through a swamp in those recently?"

"I have, actually! And I haven't had the time or patience to keep 'em clean..."

The employee led her over to the extensive shoe section, a mecca of leather, lace and high heels. She never saw herself as a footwear enthusiast, but she felt like a kid in a candy shop as she browsed through the surprisingly enchanting selection available to her.

"My suggestion would be a pair of Mary Janes. Black ones, ideally." the employee offered, pulling a box off of the shelf.

A burst of excitement passed through her. "Oh! I love Mary Janes! I used to have them when I was a kid, and I've been thinking about getting another pair for when I'm not on the road for work... They'd go well with what I'm currently wearing, too."

The employee took a step back and judged her appearance with a critical eye. "Yes... As unfamiliar as I am with your sense of fashion, I can certainly see that!"

She smiled warmly at the man's suggestion; he was among the few she could remember that had anything positive to say about her attire, and she had no expectations of him doing so. She picked out a box that was marked with her shoe size and nodded graciously. "I love them! Thank you for the help! I think I can figure out the rest on my own based on what I have here."

The employee bowed his head courteously. "Very well, ma'am. Good luck with your meeting!"

She reached down towards her stocking and pulled out her phone, having felt it rumble a few minutes before. A message from Patrick awaited her:

Fr: Patrick Adelaide, 9:03 AM

'Looks like you're still picking things out? I'm already done, so I'll be up the street at the craft supplies shop to see what's in.'
'Let me know when you're done!'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 9:09 AM

'sure i should be done in a couple minutes meet ya outside'​

"Right, let's finish this up..." she whispered to herself as encouragement.

With the hardest part of the outfit taken care of, the rest of her shopping was much quicker; she picked out a pair of white over-the-knee socks to go with her dress, as well as an ever-so-slightly mismatching golden ribbon to tie into her hair. She cautiously approached the jewelry kiosk for a casual gander, intent on possibly picking something out for herself rather than for the 'costume', but was instantly turned off by the exorbitant prices that far outpaced her wages.

As she made her way to the check out, she spotted a black sun hat dangling from a rack. She grabbed the hat to look it over and instantly fell in love with it; with a little work and perhaps some guidance from Patrick, she could transform it from a generic black hat into something personalized that better matched her usual attire. "You'll be perfect for the road..."

She approached the checkout and held her breath as the price came up on the register. "Well... that almost wipes out the rest of my first paycheck... Looks like I'm going to be staying with Patrick for a little longer than I hoped... Damn it all."

 

[Beth Pavell]

So! Finally managed to read this chapter. So where to begin ... so ok, this is a pretty self-indulgent chapter. If you wanted to be absolutely savage with yourself then you could streamline it, make it more efficient, denser in terms of how much character development is in there. And there is some development in there. Aside from Andrea finally beginning to get the message about work clothes (It's not about you when you're at work, honey), the conversation about Patrick is obviously important.

That being said, I stick to my guns about fanfiction - it has space for self-indulgence. As indulging in fashion goes, the description is still sleeker and more efficient than a lot of clothing descriptions you see, especially in original trainer journeyfics.

A couple of things occur to me about the Reiland Institute. Much as Dr Reiland is something of a nice boss in person, she does seem completely out of touch with employees at the lower rungs. We've been over my gripes over her hiring policies before, but here we have her sending employees off on a critical assignment without so much as an offer to defray expenses. Not to say this is unrealistic - hell, I work for a company that seems to think that the "privilege" of working for them justifies extracting a pound of flesh from your social life.

I still think Patrick could benefit from a course in workplace etiquette, assuming Emily's perception of him is accurate. Workplace gossip is a staple problem - for some reason office environments tend to foster it. Something to keep in mind might be that, despite often sharing the same barriers, women don't often stick together. From personal experience I can say that women can be among the worst for nastiness in workplace gossip. That's possibly a theme you could explore, given that careers and perceptions are coming up a lot

 

[Misfit Angel]

As indulging in fashion goes, the description is still sleeker and more efficient than a lot of clothing descriptions you see, especially in original trainer journeyfics.

Something I'm trying lately is, rather than 100% describe what the reader should see, I'm trying to simply guide them to their own imaginative ends. It's a compromise between wanting my characters to have a unique and definable look and the oft-told-but-unwritten rule that you should never describe what your characters wear or look like (which I always have and always will disagree with). I'll take this as an indicator that I've done that job well enough.

but here we have her sending employees off on a critical assignment without so much as an offer to defray expenses.

This does look quite poor on Dr. Reiland's part, admittedly... But maybe there's a reason for this that goes beyond her. After all, Dr. Reiland didn't give the order herself this time, or describe the situation at hand. There very well could be something else at play here.

I still think Patrick could benefit from a course in workplace etiquette, assuming Emily's perception of him is accurate.

I think he'd benefit more from improving his social skills than anything else.

Something to keep in mind might be that, despite often sharing the same barriers, women don't often stick together. From personal experience I can say that women can be among the worst for nastiness in workplace gossip. That's possibly a theme you could explore, given that careers and perceptions are coming up a lot

Possible, but I'm not sure how I'd go about it short of introducing a new female character at the institute which I'm not sure I'd have the time for if I want to end this story at a reasonable pace. I've already established Emily as someone who has no interest in it all, and Andrea is unlikely to want to engage in it now that she's a victim of it. Unless she does it as a method of 'fighting back'. I'm not sure. It's an interesting idea.

 

[Misfit Angel]

Land of the Roses
Interlude 6: Andrea Dennison, Junior Marine Biologist

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I disagree; I've never met anyone who thought of Feebas as a beauty.​

~ Professor Halloway of the University of Tradewind​

"Attention all passengers, this is your captain speaking. Thank you for choosing the Caelton Sea Ferrylines, your first port of call for historical voyages along Lanark's shores and river ways. We are scheduled to arrive at our next destination, Steelport, in about four hours. Until then, please enjoy --"

"-- the voyage by sampling our many onboard activities..." Kimberly parroted as she placed her suitcase onto the bed in her personal quarters. "Yes, yes, I've heard this a dozen times before."

As she made herself comfortable, muffled music began to sound off from within her purse, and she knew exactly what it was. She dug inside, grabbed her phone and was greeted by her daily meditation reminder. Not interested at the moment, she shut off the music and turned the screen off, but something caught her attention; she quickly turned the screen back on and breezed through the security lock to find a message waiting for her.

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:24 AM

'hey guess what!'
'the reiland institute is sending me on another field work assignment to steelport'
'im going later today and i wonder if you have any plans there?'
'i should be there for a few days and itll be fun to hang out again if so! let me know'​

"Oh... She's visiting Steelport, is she?" she asked. "Hmm..."

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 11:32 AM

'Oh! I missed your message! Sorry!'
'My plan was to ride the Caelton Sea Ferrylines back home to Visalia, but it's making a stop in Steelport first. I can stay in the city and hang out with you!'
'If we can't be together while you're working, there's at least plenty to keep me occupied while you're busy!'
'It's going to be good to see you again : D'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 11:33 AM

'awesome ill see you soon then!'​

"She's been so agreeable lately," she thought to herself. "I feel bad for snapping at her last week, but it really was for the best it seems." She flopped onto the bed and idly examined her room. "Now... what do I do with my time..." she asked. "Meditate, or brainstorm coordination ideas to work on with Petyr?"

She grabbed her notebook from her suitcase and sat down at the table. She spent about five minutes tapping the rear of her pen against the blank page, thinking about possible routines she could bring to her mentor, but nothing useful stuck out in her mind. Her thoughts were a chaotic swirl of ideas and images ranging from her performance so far as a coordinator to what she wanted to achieve as one -- ideas that may be useful at some point in her career, but not in the moment.

She slammed her pen down in frustration. "Meditation first, I think. I will need a calm and focused mind if I am to work on this."

She closed her notebook, stood up and and pushed her chair in, then grabbed her purse; while her private room would likely offer her the peace and quiet needed for her meditation, it was too cramped and claustrophobic for her liking. She wanted to explore the paddle boat in the hopes the she could find a location more suitable to her needs, somewhere with the sun and clouds above her -- a closer connection to her goddess.

The first place she visited was the fore deck. Her hopes of its suitability weren't high, as it was the social center of the ship, host to an open air bar, a lounge and a musical stage. The assumption that it wouldn't be suitable was correct, as the bar was filled with patrons, noisy children were playing around the lounge area and a comedy show was taking place at the music stage.

She felt a sense of deja vu, remembering that the seaside promenade of the Vogel Resort in Rustlode was almost exactly the same. It put her on edge, and she worried that like then, her meditation would do little to keep her calm and centered again.

Disappointed but not surprised, she moved towards the stern of the ship to avoid the crowds. Unfortunately, it wasn't man she had to worry about, but machine; the sound of the diesel engines roaring away below the decks hummed loudly, and the floorboards vibrated enough to make her feel uneasy on her feet. The paddle wheel itself, largely a decoration in the modern day, was a constant cacophony of splashing water and creaking shafts.

"Hmm... Perhaps my room really was the best option," she mumbled.

Before she made it far, an idea popped into her mind: the roof of the upper deck. Not only would it likely be quiet up there, it'd certainly be private. She retreated from the noise at the rear of the ship and climbed two sets of stairs to the upper check, then returned towards the stern yet again. She cautiously looked around to see if anyone was watching, and when she saw that she was in the clear, she tried her best to climb the crates and boxes that rested against the walls of the upper deck. The hardest part was pulling herself up the 1.5 meter wall remaining at the top.

"Oof! I am really out of shape... I could do something like that easily last year..." she thought as she rolled onto the roof. "Another reason to put off some more weight."

She cautiously made her way across the roof of the upper deck, carefully navigating the root-like service cables that covered the floor, and sneakily maintained a low profile as she passed by the skylight of the crewman's galley. Eventually she came to a stop near the main stack of the engine system, another element that was more or less a decoration in 'modern' steamboats.

She took a seat on the hard roof of the deck and gazed out into the Caelton Sea. The limitless expanse of blue water, endlessly pulsing below an open sky had a calming effect on her; it reminded her, that despite her recent troubles, she lived in a world filled with boundless beauty and experience. A world rich with natural wonder and bountiful opportunity. A world she was blessed to call home.

As she assumed her typical meditation posture, she spotted a peculiar sight about a hundred meters off the starboard bow: amidst the rolling waves was a swirling disturbance on the surface, marked by relatively calm water within it. The source of the peculiar sight quickly showed its presence, as a long and serpentine creature broke the surface of the water, arcing back down as if it were a rainbow.

The creature surfaced again after a moment, allowing her a clearer look at it: atop its head protruded a large spiraled horn, and sapphire blue, whisker-like fins sprouted above its glassy eyes, fins that ran nearly the entire length of its body. The front half of its body was a bland slate grey, but the rear half was far more interesting, covered in shimmering icy blue scales and tipped with a fan-like tail.

"What in the world is that..." she marvelled.

She reached for her purse, grabbed her phone and opened the camera app. As she tried her best to find the creature amidst the rocking of the waves and her own poor aiming ability, the worry that she might fall during her distraction prompted her to abandon her attempts. Instead, she stepped towards the edge of the roof and dropped down gracefully.

She approached the railing of the deck and tried to take photos again, much more confident in her new footing. Eventually, she spotted the serpent on the screen and worked to keep her hands steady as she began to take photos of it cresting out of the water. As she watched it, nothing came to mind about what it could be, but the name of someone who might know more did: Andrea. She closed her camera and began to write a message.

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 12:04 PM

'Andrea, friend! Could I ask a question of you? Of your biology knowledge, specifically.'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 12:05 PM

'my biology knowledge huh'
'wow nobody ever asks about that its usually about... well you know!'
'sure ill be happy to help whats up?'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 12:06 PM

'I'm going to send you a photo of a peculiar Pokémon I just spotted in the Caelton Sea, and I was wondering if you'd be able to help me identify it.'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 12:06 PM

'marine biology isnt my specialty but i should know enough. send it over?'​

She rounded up the photos she took and separated out the lowest quality ones, then sent them over.

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 12:08 PM

'Here you go!'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 12:08 PM

'oh shit'
'is it still there?'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 12:09 PM

'Yes, it is.'​

Fr: Andrea Dennison, 12:09 PM

'wanna do a video call? i wanna see this thing in motion if possible'​

Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 12:10 PM

'By all means! Call me when you're ready!'​

Barely five seconds went by before her piano-based ring tone echoed along the gangway of the paddle boat, which she answered happily. "Hello!"

"Hi!" Andrea answered back, happiness evident in her own voice. "Where's this mystic sea beast of yours? Did it disappear yet?"

"It hasn't. My apologies if I struggle to provide a good video... I never was a good photographer."

Andrea smiled and nodded. "Nonsense! You did good with that selfie we took in Doranshire!" Andrea could be seen poking and prodding at her screen as she attempted to zoom in on the video feed. "Yep... just as I thought. Curious to see one this far south..."

"Sounds like you know what it is."

Another nod. "I do! It's Regalicus kanetska. You miiiiight know it better as Milotic?"

She shook her head.

Andrea nodded. "Heh, not surprised, actually. Regalicus kanetska -- umm, the Arctic Bay Milotic as that one is more commonly known -- are a pretty rare sight. Most people aren't familiar with them."

"Mmm!" she answered. "I'm quite lucky then, aren't I?"

"I'd say so. Now, I'm curious why one is in the Caelton Sea... That specific subspecies of Milotic usually doesn't stray far from the Arctic circle. Ugh! I wish I could be there to document this thing in better detail!"

"I'll do my best to provide you with photos and video."

"I appreciate it, but I don't know how useful they'll be when it comes to detailed documentation of it. The best way to document something is by seeing it yourself... I'll ask my supervisor if I can spend a couple days down there searching for it after we're done with our current assignment... If I can get permission, what do you say we team up again in the name of scientific research?"

"I'd like that!"

"Think about it. If we actually find something, I could get your name in a scientific magazine. I don't know if that means anything for you, but exposure like that means a lot to me."

She was pensive about the idea, based on previous experiences. "I've had my name in enough magazines, to be honest. Though I suppose there isn't an abundance of inaccurate gossip in a scientific publication..."

"Probably not. Sounds like you're speaking from experience, too."

"I am. I can tell you about it sometime, if you'd like, but it's not an interesting story. Anyways, as I'm watching this Milotic... I've got an idea! Don't you think one would make a great addition to a coordination team? Its beauty alone would certainly draw attention. I also haven't forgotten what you said about most people being unaware of it..."

Andrea tilted her head at the idea, and wasn't sure of what to say. "Uhh... I don't know. You'd certainly turn heads with one, but whether it'd be good for coordination is beyond my knowledge. There's also a problem... Well, several problems, actually."

"Uh oh."

"Before I go too far, let me know if I'm boring you at all. I can easily get carried away with this stuff."

"No, no! Go on!"

"Right! The biggest and most important problem first... Hunting them was outlawed by the Council of Nations about... forty years ago, was it? In terms of international policy and law, capturing them is considered hunting them, even if you aren't killing them for commercial profit. No matter how big a bribe you try to make, you'll go to prison for it, and for a long time."

"Oh! Well! That deflates that plan."

Andrea laughed. "However! Owning one is not against the law itself. You see, Milotic is the secondary form of Brunnei infirmius, better known as Feebas. You know that one, right?"

"Eww, yes. I recall when I was first researching coordination, I read an article that stated that no self-respecting coordinator would ever consider bringing one to a contest."

"Yeah... it's an ugly little thing, isn't it?"

"Quite."

"Anyways, if you provide documentation to the state that you've caught a Feebas, and then it evolves, you're not bound by the hunting ban. So, people do own them."

"Hmm. It does evolve into something quite beautiful..."

A sly smirk appeared on Andrea's face. "I know what you're thinking, and I'll talk you out of it. If you're going to be on the road as a travelling coordinator, how do you expect to raise one? I don't know a lot about Pokémon training, but I haven't seen many facilities for training and raising aquatic Pokémon. So you'd basically be limiting yourself to being a sea hermit if you made the commitment to raise a fish. You'd miss out on so much of the country!"

"I see..."

"Now, let me explain the difficulty of actually evolving one... and this is where it gets really boring. Most Feebas don't typically evolve into a Milotic in their lifetime. The true reason for that is still up for debate, but the leading theory that I've read about is that whether they can evolve or not is based on their genetics. You see, there's an abnormality in their 17th chromosome that all Milotic share, an abnormality that has never been recorded in a Feebas that didn't go on to evolve later in its life. Scientists call this the --"

Andrea's knowledgeable lecture began to lose her. All she could do was nod in agreement as she tried to compare her basic knowledge of high school biology to her friend's apparent mastery of genetic terminology.

"In short, it's just not a good idea to capture and raise one on the hopes that it'll evolve, because chances are, whatever you catch likely won't. You follow at all?"

She pursed her lips together as she thought it over. "Yes! Some of that was lost on me, but I trust your knowledge."

"Hope I didn't take any wind out of your sails. I know how important this coordination stuff is to you."

"It's okay. You've probably saved me a lot of trouble... From a potential prison sentence to the responsibility of owning a fish, I had no idea! It's no fair, though! All of the fun and interesting Pokémon are illegal, difficult or expensive to own."

"Heh, yeah, that sounds true. Speaking of fun and interesting..." The view of Andrea disappeared for a brief second, and when it returned, she brought a Pokéball up to the camera. "I've got one of my own now!"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh? That's great, congratulations! What is it?"

"I don't want to ruin the surprise, so I'll show you when we meet up. You're going to like him!"

"I'm sure I will!"

"Anyways, is there anything else you want to know about Milotics? If not, I should probably get back to planning out my next few days with my supervisor... I kinda left him in a hurry when we saw your photos, heh."

"Oh! I didn't know I was interrupting something important. I'll see you later today, then?"

"Very likely."

"Good! I'll be in touch!"

"Mmm. Good bye!"

The call ended, but she kept her camera focused on the Milotic as it continued to break the surface of the waves. Unfortunately after just a few moments, it never surfaced again; it appeared as if the Milotic had gone its own way as well, and her heart sank beneath the waves with it.

"Just as well... All you were doing was taunting me," she softly said. "Farewell, friend of the sea."

 

[Beth Pavell]

Well, it's a breather chapter, alright. I suppose this is your answer to the question of how to bring the two of them back together for a while.

We've discussed the idea of piscine pokémon before, and it looks like you've gone, more or less, for my stance. The idea that some pokémon just aren't practical brings it away from the games in a different way, which I'm entirely fine with

 

[Misfit Angel]

I present a piece of fan art the eclectically talented Hexikron!

Andrea is ready to do a lot to advance her career, but dressing up in bright colors is low on that list. And even if she'll do it, she certainly doesn't have to like it.

 

[Misfit Angel]

Land of the Roses
Chapter 38: They Who Built an Empire

"I'm afraid to admit it, but I actually look pretty good in this dumbass dress," Andrea thought as she studied herself in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't too enthusiastic about her appearance earlier in the morning and found the dress uncomfortable, but having adjusted to it after a nearly seven hour train ride, her mood about the dress was beginning to change. She raised her hand to her face and gently poked at her eyelid with her finger. "I miss my makeup, though. I look so... ugly without it..."

She sighed and pushed herself out of the bathroom, and found Patrick waiting patiently for her by a large set of windows. He was lost in the view; from their vantage point, they could see the northeastern portion of the city, where much of the commercial development in the past 50 years had taken place. A jungle of skyscrapers in all different shapes and sizes, numbering in the dozens before both lost count, reached for the skies, towering over the smaller and much more numerous buildings that made up the city center. Andrea marvelled at the sight of it; she had heard that Steelport boasted an impressive skyline, but was unprepared for what she saw.

"So, which one of these buildings are we heading to?" she asked.

Patrick pointed towards the dense steel and glass heart at the center of downtown. "You see the tallest one? That's the headquarters of the Crown News Network and their associated print journalism publications."

"I see it."

"A little bit to the left of that, with five other buildings in between, is Eckhardt Tower. I believe it's still the fourth tallest building in the city, but I could be wrong about that; new buildings are going up all the time. But that's where we'll be heading today."

She squinted as she tried to make out the details of the building he pointed out. "That one that looks like it has a castle on top of it?"

"If you can't be a king, at least pretend you are," he mockingly quoted with an upperclass accent. "It's a pretty interesting design, isn't it?"

"I guess..." she said as she shrugged. "Looks like a long walk... and I'm so sore from sitting on that train for so long." She rubbed her sore behind and stretched in anticipation of the walk ahead of her, but it didn't bring her much comfort. "I told you, we should have snuck onto the first class carriage where they actually have padded seats. I do it all the time, they don't check."

"Heh. You'll feel better once we start walking. But like you said, it's a long walk, and fortunately for us, we're not walking the entire way." He placed his hand on her back and gave her a gentle push, leading her down the stairs towards the exit of the train station. "Steelport has introduced an excellent bicycle sharing program since I was last here! Cheap to rent them, too; a single silver rose for a whole day."

"Bicycles..." she muttered as she stopped in her tracks. "I, uhh, never learned to ride one..."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "You're kidding."

She hung her head dejectedly. "I wish I were. I did have a bicycle when I was younger, but I had a few too many crashes and gave up before my training wheels ever came off. I tried learning again once I started university, but with no one to teach me, ehh, well..."

"Huh, you never cease to amaze me. Well, that messes up my plans a little, but I think I can adjust! Let's go!"

- - - - -​

"So, how is this going to work?" she asked, watching him kneel down and inspect a row of bikes that were locked down. "Because I'm not sitting on your lap."

"Ha, no. And I know you already said you had a bad experience with trying to ride on the handlebars of someone else's bicycle, so how does riding on the back wheel sound?" He pointed at the lengthy extensions on the hub of the rear wheel, which would serve as a makeshift platform for her to stand on. "You should be able to stand on those with no problem."

"I don't know about no problem, but let's give this a try."

He dug through his pockets for a loose silver rose and deposited it into the pay station, then wheeled the unlocked bicycle out of its parking space. He took his place on the seat and stabilized it as he motioned for her to hop aboard. Ever cautious, she grabbed onto his shoulders as she nervously placed her left foot onto the extended hub, and with a wobble, she placed her right foot on the other side.

"Ready? Here we go!"

With a kick forward, Patrick rolled off of the polished brick walkway and onto the smooth asphalt cyclist's path. The bicycle jerked back and forth wildly for a few seconds as both fought against each other to maintain their balance, but eventually Patrick gained control and smoothly carried them along their way.

"Look at that! Smooth sailing!"

"Scary sailing -- but smooth, yeah," she answered back.

"Hey, maybe when we get home, I can teach you to ride? My bike has been collecting dust over the winter and I didn't use it much before then."

"Maybe, but it's a quick walk to work from your place."

"Think about all the other places you could go, though. The supermarket, the bank, the beach, a museum..."

"I'll worry about that later."

He nodded a single time. "Now, hang on tight! I'm gonna speed up."

- - - - -​

The lobby of Eckhardt Tower was unlike anything they expected or experienced. A very clear theme of black and gold was present throughout the lobby, from the Eckhardt Steel logo that was suspended from wires above the three-story-tall fountain, to the polished basalt support pillars, and finally the sparkling floor, which was cut into decorative designs and sourced from a vein of rare golden marble. Vegetation hung from the balconies of the second and third floors, spreading the sweet scent of a carefully curated garden.

It was much busier than they expected, as well, and had the appearance of a major tourism destination. Nearly a hundred people were scattered about appreciating the design of the lobby as well as the artwork on display, while others were gathered at the various kiosks that called Eckhardt Tower home. Security appeared to be fairly heavy, with a dozen uniformed officers stationed strategically around the area, and even more on patrol; signs indicating that backpacks and purses were subject to search were displayed in prominent locations. A security checkpoint with metal detectors stood before the elevators that led beyond the third floor.

Unsure of where to go from there, the two approached an information desk near the entrance.

"Greetings!" one of the attendants cheerfully said. "Welcome to Eckhardt Tower! How many I help you?"

"Hello, uhh, I'm Patrick Adelaide and this is Andrea Dennison. We're representing the Reiland Institute and we're here for a meeting with Roy Eckhardt II."

"Ah. If you're here for a business meeting, please check in with the corporate office. You can find it on the third floor, just up the escalators behind me. One of the secretaries will handle your admission."

He nodded respectfully. "Thank you."

The two passed by the information desk and boarded the escalator towards the second floor. From their new vantage point, they could see that the lobby was larger than they realized; they could see five star restaurants, upscale apparel outlets and a jewelry store in the eastern branch, and outlets primarily focusing on women's accessories and clothing to the west.

"There sure are a lot of businesses crammed into this building," Patrick said, glancing at his R-Kit. "The meeting isn't for another hour, wanna kill some time and wander around?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, not even listening. Her attention was buried in her phone, using the camera on it to judge her appearance one last time. She gently tugged at the ribbon that tied her hair into a ponytail, trying her best to make sure it was centered and symmetrical. "How do I look? Do I look presentable at all? I really don't have an eye for... you know, looking normal."

"You look great! Who knew there was something beautiful hiding under all that makeup you usually wear?"

She laughed in an attempt to downplay his comment. "You're a funny one, you should get into comedy. I'll be the first to throw a tomato at you!"

"You honor me."

As they reached the second floor, they took a moment to look around before deciding if they wanted to continue to the third floor. Even more venues awaited them, and Andrea's attention was immediately caught by a sign in front of them, advertised by solid gold lettering: Fairbrooke Gardens. "Hey! That must be one of my friend Kim's dad's restaurants!"

"Fairbrooke Gardens, huh? Maybe after our meeting with Mr. Eckhardt, we can come back for dinner?"

She shook her head. "I doubt we'll be able to afford to even set foot in that place... If I recall, she told me that her father's wealth was built on the back of those restaurants. It's supposed to be very high brow stuff."

"Hmm," he hummed.

"Oh, shit, that reminds me... I was supposed to let her know when I got into the city. She's here too, and I wanna spend some time with her when I can."

"That's fine by me, we'll definitely have some free time in the evenings and early mornings."

"Good! But, before I get ahead of myself... maybe we should just get ready for this meeting? I don't mind waiting, and I mainly want to focus on our work."

"Hey, that's good to hear! Right then, let's go visit their office."

- - - - -​

"Hello! I can help the next guest!" an office clerk called out.

Patrick and Andrea rose from their seats and approached the main desk.

"We're pleased to welcome you to Eckhardt Tower's corporate offices. How may we help you?" he asked.

"We've come from Loch Alstan to meet with Roy Eckhardt II. We're the scientists from the Reiland Institute that he asked for," he said, placing his hand on Andrea's shoulder. "She's Andrea Dennison, and I'm Patrick Adelaide."

"Ah yes, the guests from the Reiland Institute. Give me a moment, please..." he said, tapping away at her keyboard. "A meeting scheduled for 4:30 PM... Yes. Can I see some ID?"

Patrick gently jabbed his elbow into Andrea as he placed his on the desk. "Hey, look, an opportunity to finally use an ID that hasn't been expired for six months."

In times past, a request for ID typically made Andrea nervous; she recalled numerous times in the past month where she had to rely on an expired student ID card from the University of Aughrim, and how often it was declined. She still counted herself extremely lucky that her expired ID was accepted when she first visited the Reiland Institute for her job interview, and was relieved that those days were behind her. Catching her Sentret had an unintended beneficial side effect; she pulled her new Rose League Hobbyist Pokémon Caretaker's License from her purse and handed it over.

The clerk took both of their IDs and scrutinized them closely. He input the numbers present on them into his computer, then slid them into a scanning device beside him one at a time. After a few seconds, a green light turned on to indicate that the IDs matched the national records on file. "Very well! You're a little early for your meeting. Would you like to look around the various shops in the lobby, or be taken to Mr. Eckhardt's condominium and await your meeting?"

"We've already done our window shopping for the day, we'd like to wait in his office."

"Understood," he said. He wheeled his chair back to a filing cabinet, opened it and pulled two lanyards out. He wheeled his chair back and slid them across the desk. "Here are your VIP passes. Keep them visible at all times, security is very zealous about that."

"Got it."

He picked up the phone on his desk and pressed a button. "Security, we have guests here in the main office for a scheduled meeting with Mr. Eckhardt. Please send someone to escort them to his personal elevator."

A short moment passed before three giant men in fitted suits appeared. The leader -- and smallest -- of the three asked Patrick and Andrea to follow him, and he led them deeper into the office until they reached the elevator that would take them up to Mr. Eckhardt's private residence. A security checkpoint was established just before the elevator.

"Before we go up, you'll need to pass through this metal detector. Looks like you two brought backpacks with you for some reason, so... Hand 'em over for safekeeping, and surrender any Pokéballs you may be carrying -- even empty ones," the security leader explained. "You'll get them back, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried about it," Patrick answered back as he pulled four Pokéballs out of his pocket and placed them on the counter beside the metal detector. Andrea knew about one of them, his Flareon, but wondered what was in the other three; he mentioned having a plan for taking on an Onix, and the extent of those plans rushed through her mind.

"Ma'am?" the security leader asked. "You carrying any Pokéballs?"

"Oh! Sorry. Got lost in thought for a second." She reached into her purse and grabbed her Sentret's Pokéball, then placed it on the counter. "Big job we're working on, it's hard not to think about it."

The security leader grabbed the five Pokéballs and placed them into a container, being mindful of keeping Andrea's separated from Patrick's. "I've heard. Something big is terrorizing the workers and destroying machinery down in the tunnels... I don't envy you, Mr. Eckhardt doesn't pay me enough to risk my life dealing with that. Right! If you've got any metal on you -- belts buckles, jewelry, steel toes in your shoes -- remove it now and step through the detector. I'd take those smartwatches off, too, the detector will probably fry them."

"Very good point," Patrick said, unstrapping his R-Kit.

Andrea did the same and placed it on the counter beside them. She reached her hands under the collar of her dress, and with much hesitation, removed the silver Celtic knotted chain that she was wearing. She always felt strange when she took it off, like a piece of her soul had just been removed. She felt naked and exposed without it on, and as dumb as she thought it sounded, she'd noticed that a lot of her confidence was rooted in having it resting above her heart. As she passed through the metal detector, she watched as one of the guards grabbed the necklace and look it over as if he were appraising it, then place it in the container that their Pokéballs were in.

"Good, no issues," The security leader said as the light above the metal detector flashed in green. "Step into the lift, please."

"W-what about my necklace?" she sheepishly bleated.

"Could be used as a rudimentary weapon," he explained. "We're going to hold onto it."

"So could my fists, but I don't see you chopping my hands off..." she thought.

It was an awkward ride on the elevator. Andrea and Patrick were crammed into the corner, while the three suits stood in silence and stared off into oblivion. They felt like they were in the presence of Team Rocket hitmen; quiet, burly, menacing and completely uninterested in them unless they posed a threat. The air felt as if it was getting thinner, until eventually the elevator stopped at the top floor and the door opened. They stepped out into a small office where they were greeted by a secretary.

"Ah! Mr. Adelaide, Ms. Dennison. Welcome!" the secretary said. "My name is Lianne Walsh, I am Mr. Eckhardt's personal secretary. He would come welcome you himself, but his previous engagement is keeping him busier than he expected."

"Thank you. Will we be waiting in here?" Patrick asked.

"No. If you look around, I'm sure you'll realize that this room is much too small for six people. Instead, you'll be waiting in the lounge of Mr. Eckhardt's personal residence. But before that, I have some forms you need to fill out before he will see you." She grabbed a stack of papers and offered them to Patrick and Andrea.

CONFIDENTIAL NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT
Blacksoot Tunnel Network Exploration And Pest Removal
#07-Reiland Institute Contract​

"An NDA?" Andrea asked. She idly flipped through the pages, skimming the bulk of the words, until she reached where she needed to sign on page twelve. "I... I've never signed one before... And there's a lot of stuff in here..."

"You'll be signing a lot of them while working at the Reiland Institute," Patrick said. "They're pretty easy to uphold, at least."

Lianne nodded. "Mostly standard stuff in that one. Mr. Eckhardt will explain in better detail himself, but to put it briefly, you'll be granted access to some restricted areas of company property. The steel industry is a cutthroat business and we need to do what we can to maintain our edge against other companies, and that includes keeping secrets." After both had signed their names, she led the pair of scientists and trio of security guards through the unassuming door behind her and into the private residence of the richest man in the country.

"Wow," they both said in unison.

Lianne smiled. "Impressive, isn't it?"

The penthouse suite resembled a grand palace; hardly a single inch of the room was a color other than gold, yellow or a soft beige. The floor, mostly covered in luxurious and intricately detailed carpeting, was composed of polished ebony planks. The ceiling quickly caught their attention, being constructed primarily of bevelled mirrors which helped to brighten the room naturally. Priceless artifacts from Lanark's history decorated the room, from Dark Age tapestries to Victorian curios, alongside treasures that clearly originated from other countries, looted in past centuries. Perhaps the most prized piece of the collection was the legendary sword Garrydyl, a blade forged from argent steel that once belonged to King Ondrynn of Constantia.

"You can say that again," Patrick answered. "Looks like the Palace of the Romatti Emperors in here."

"Oh, no! This is honestly a little bit more humble than that." She gestured towards a doorway that led into another room. "Please, the lounge is this way."

The group moved onward to the lounge. The main attraction of the lounge was the large central fireplace that was almost completely encircled by a luxuriously soft sofa; despite the warm weather outside, the fireplace was roaring away unattended, bringing the room to an uncomfortably hot temperature. Through the lounge's expansive windows, occupants had a view of the southern industrial sector of the city, its harbor, the Royal Navy shipyards and the deep blue Caelton Sea.

Silence overtook the group as they sat down around the fireplace. Lianne continued her work remotely through a touchscreen tablet; the security team sat by idly, ready to move at a moment's notice; Patrick's attention was rooted in a small notepad as he did some last minute mental preparation for their meeting with Mr. Eckhardt. Andrea's focus was on her missing necklace, and she ran her fingers across her empty chest, worried that it might vanish from wherever it was being kept.

Patrick leaned over to share something with her. "Hey, what do you think about--" He paused in his tracks; he could sense that she was extremely uncomfortable with something, based on the look of concern that shrouded her face. What gave it away was her dark eyebrows, slanted upward with worry. "Oh, uhh... You okay? I've seen that look on your face before... Back in my office last week."

She looked up from the fire at him. "I'm trying to be."

"It's okay! This contract is a big deal, I can understand--"

"No..." she said as she clutched at the fabric resting on her chest once again. "It's that necklace they took from me. It means a lot to me, and I'm worried it'll get lost or stolen."

"You'll get it back when we leave. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"I wish I could feel the same..."

"Must be special to ya, huh."

Breaking eye contact with him, she nodded silently.

The relative silence of the room was interrupted by a loud buzzing sound that came from Lianne's tablet. "Ah! Mr. Eckhardt has asked me to take you to him. Come along, his office is in the next room."

The group left the 'comfort' of the fireplace and headed for an intricately designed mahogany door. The security team remained outside as Lianne, Patrick and Andrea stepped into the office. While Mr. Eckhardt's office shared a similar color scheme with the rest of the penthouse suite, it was remarkably more simple in design.

"Your guests, Roy," Lianne said. "Patrick Adelaide and Andrea Dennison."

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Lianne, you may go now," Mr. Eckhardt said, waving his secretary away while barely acknowledging her presence. He spoke slowly and with a subdued voice, a voice that embodied the wisdom of old age. "Please, my guests, give me a moment. I am nearly finished with this paperwork. My son will also be joining us, but he is not here yet."

The two looked around for a place to sit and wait, but there was only one chair. They didn't audibly argue over the chair, but through a quick exchange of eye motions and facial expressions, both offered the chair to each other, and neither took the initiative; instead, they continued to awkwardly stand around as Mr. Eckhardt's pen scratched against the paper loudly in that silent, golden room.

"This is a very impressive home you have here, Mr. Eckhardt," Patrick said as he approached a large oil painting that hung from the wall, The King of Light. The Renaissance masterpiece depicted the coronation of King Andagel Greybell, a medieval monarch who, according to legend, ruled Lanark for over 150 years.

Mr. Eckhardt looked up from his work for a brief moment before returning to it. "Ah, yes. Thank you. 'Fit for a king' my father told me, just before he passed."

"That's certainly true," he added, wandering over to the large windows. On a better day, he would have had a spectacular view of the western wilds and Sonetta Mountain, but low hanging clouds and a thin fog blowing in off of the sea obscured his vision.

Time passed in relative silence as Mr. Eckhardt finalized his work. He placed his pen on the table, collected his papers into a neat stack and pressed a button on his desk. "Lianne, dear, could you tell me? Has my son arrived yet?"

A moment later, his secretary's voice spoke clear as day, as if she were in the room. "He hasn't. I could check his schedule, if you'd like, he may be running late with something else."

"Please do so."

Another moment of silence passed by as Andrea and Patrick glanced at each other.

Lianne's voice broke the silence once again. "According to today's schedule, he was meant to be finalizing his practice for this week's competitive Pokémon battles at the gym just before the meeting began. If I had a guess, he's spending extra time on it, as usual."

Mr. Eckhardt grumbled. "Damned son of mine..." He lifted his finger off of the button to address the two privately. "My son has a habit of wasting time on his 'practice' despite how little he needs it. I don't think he'll be joining us." He pressed the button again. "Very well, Lianne, thank you again. Ah! I'm finished with my paperwork. Please, come collect it and make sure each file reaches its destination."

"Right away, sir."

Mr. Eckhardt leaned back in his chair. "Very well. Let us get started without him, then," he said, the disappointment in his voice clear as day.

"That will make planning our expedition a bit difficult," Patrick added.

"Yes, my apologies. However, he is very intimately acquainted with the tunnels that you'll be exploring, and has seen some of the damage firsthand, whereas I have not... Much of what I tell you today has has already been run by him, as it happens. I will do my best to guide you through what needs to be done." He opened the drawer on his desk and grabbed a laser pointer, then dimmed the lights from a dial on his desk. The curtains along the large windows closed automatically, and a projector rooted in the ceiling turned on. "Before we begin, I trust that you signed your NDAs, correct?"

Lianne had already entered the room to collect his files. "They did!" Just as quickly and silently as she entered the room, she disappeared again.

"Good. I'm about to show you a diagram of the tunnel network below our properties. Some are known to the public, but most are not, and they are integral towards maintaining our commanding presence within the steel industry."

A confusing mess of colored lines that resembled tangled spaghetti appeared on the curtains. The tunnel network below the city was enormous, stretching west towards Rustlode, north towards the foothills, east into the swamps of the Lilypath and even some ventured south, under the Caelton Sea. Very little of the city didn't have at least one tunnel under it, though most were colored in red to indicate that they were no longer in active use for mineral extraction.

Andrea instantly spoke up. "Uhh... That's a lot to go through... How exactly are we meant to find anything in that? There must be 100 kilometers of tunnels."

"742 kilometers, at last count. But, you will not be expected to explore the entire network, no." He pointed towards the northwestern reaches of the tunnel network and clicked a button on his laser pointer, causing the map to zoom into that section. "Here are some of our oldest tunnels, dating as far back as the 15th century; maintenance workers have told me that the damage has been contained to this area only. Unless new sightings or damage appear elsewhere in the network, this is where your search will be confined. There is a lot of critical infrastructure in this area as well, so fewer tunnels have been dug at this site than others, further limiting the ground you will be covering."

She nodded quietly as he explained the situation to them.

He clicked his laser pointer again and brought up a photo of an industrial complex. A monolithic building stood in the center of a broken landscape, surrounded by smoking towers, piles of black gravel and an extensive array of pipes, ducts and rail lines. "When you begin your search tomorrow, you will be reporting to the Blacksoot Foundry, on the northwestern outskirts of the city. The tunnels that you will be searching are about 300 meters below the ground, and they are... two lift rides down, I believe it was?" His eyes met Andrea's before he looked her up and down. "I do hope you're prepared for a hike, young lady. The access road to the Blacksoot Foundry is not the easiest and safest to navigate. Not to mention the tunnels themselves."

She felt it was odd that she was singled out, and wondered if it was the outdated ideals of his childhood showing their ugly face. She wanted to stand her ground, but couldn't muster up the courage.

Patrick picked up on her silence and stepped in to support her. "I wouldn't have brought her along if I didn't believe she was capable of this. She's done a lot of footwork for the institute so far, and excelled at it. Speaking of capable... I already know that your son will be joining us for the expedition. Will there be anyone else?"

"Yes, quite a few people actually." He pointed towards an icon on the side of the tunnel diagram and clicked the button on his laser pointer again. Seven portraits popped up, and he pointed towards the first one. "My son, Roy. Chief of Operations of the corporation. He will be keeping you on task, as well as providing you with the bulk of your support should you locate this destructive creature."

He pointed towards the next portrait. "My nephew, Alphonse; Director of the Department of Maintenance Operations. He will be showing you where the damage has occurred, as well as guiding you through the tunnel network."

His pointer moved onto the next portrait. "This is my grandson-in-law, Ainsley Fairfax-Eckhardt. He is a physician who works with the Steelport Fire Department. His task is to train you in the proper use of your equipment, as well as respond to any necessary first aid needs."

"How about these other four?" Patrick asked, noticing that they didn't have names below their portraits like the others.

"Ah, they are just the security detail, their names aren't important. Their primary task is to protect our industry secrets; there are a lot of restricted areas in that part of the tunnel network. Their secondary task is much like my son's, to provide support should the creature be found."

"Mmm. What kind of equipment will we be using? I imagine climbing ropes at the least."

"Most of the tunnels that we've dug are flat and level, but if you'll be exploring the areas the creature has emerged from, yes." Another click on his laser pointer brought up a photo of the tunnels. "You'll be provided with the standard in cave exploration equipment: climbing ropes, harnesses, hard hats. You will also be using air tanks and respirators; the air down in those tunnels is quite thin and contains high concentrations of carbon monoxide, as well as low concentrations of sulfur dioxide. Not to mention, there's a lot of dust and soot from our industrial processes."

Patrick nodded. "How heavy do you think that'll all be? I must admit, I'm not as strong as I was 10 years ago."

"I don't know for certain, but I would estimate 30 kilograms." He focused on Andrea once again. "Will you be fine with carrying that much, young lady?"

She wasn't sure, but she nodded, grumbling under her breath as she did so; she was starting to become annoyed by his jabs at her.

"Right. Okay, so, the first order of business will be to inspect the damaged infrastructure. This will be key in telling us specifically what to look for as we track this mystery beast down. I suspect you'll know better than me about what to do."

She was surprised to hear it. "Will I? I-I-I..."

"You've shown some impressive tracking skills already, back in Balmore."

She frowned. "I suppose... Though there is a difference in tracking small furry creatures that you know are in an area and an unknown creature... But I'll try to take the lead on that if you want me to."

"I have faith in you. After that, we'll start searching the tunnels that this creature is boring out of the bedrock and look for signs of recent activity. If we can find that, we're likely to find our mystery creature."

Finding the creature was one thing, but dealing with one capable of digging through solid bedrock was another, and she wasn't sure how they would. Her new Sentret definitely wouldn't stand a chance, and it's likely that Patrick's Flareon wouldn't, either. Patrick appeared to have brought three extra Pokémon with him, but she wasn't sure of what they were yet. She decided to voice her concerns: "What are we going to do if we actually find this thing?"

"Ideally, we'll capture and relocate it to a more suitable environment," Patrick answered.

"That is ideal, yes," Mr. Eckhardt interjected. "But, if that isn't possible, I ask that you destroy it. Not only does this creature represent a danger to our business -- a business that is incredibly vital to the economy of this country -- I've also been told that it could threaten the geological stability under the city if it moves into new areas. The property damage and loss of life could rival what this city saw in the air raids during the Great War."

Patrick shook his head at the thought. "That's... a sobering thought, and even worse than what I was afraid of..."

"Ugh... I... I just don't want to kill anything else..." Andrea groaned. "I still feel bad about what happened in Nettlefield."

"Hey," he said softly. "Sometimes it's just the nature of our work. We'll do our best to resolve this peacefully first." He looked up towards Mr. Eckhardt. "Is that all, sir?"

Mr. Eckhardt nodded. "Yes, and thank you for taking this job seriously. The Reiland Institute is not the first firm that we contacted for help, but it is the first that responded with enthusiasm rather than skepticism. I hope that this is the beginning of a beneficial partnership between our two organizations."

"I hope it is as well, and this work is our pleasure." He turned to Andrea. "Anything you'd like to add or ask?"

She shook her head.

"Very well. Thank you for your time, Mr. Eckhardt." He placed his hand on Andrea's back and gently pushed her. "Right, let's go collect our Pokémon and check into our hotel."

- - - - -​

"Your belongings," the security leader said as he offered a plastic container to Patrick, and nodded at their backpacks on the floor. "Thank you for visiting Eckhardt Tower. Good luck on your work."

Patrick nodded respectively as he accepted the container. He opened it and counted the Pokéballs inside; his four were still grouped together, while Andrea's lone Pokéball was kept safely separated to the side. Between the two was Andrea's necklace, which he picked out first and offered to her. She lifted her necklace from his fingers and brought it to her lips.

To him, she appeared to be deep in thought as she held it there for a moment. "So, what's the story behind that thing? It's obviously very important to you."

She put put it back on and the weight of her anxiety was lifted from her shoulders. "It's not a story I'd feel comfortable telling now."

"You're awfully secretive."

"Ugh, I understand if that's aggravating... but it's an issue of trust. Not necessarily trusting you, but... both of us. More myself, really." She paused to gauge his reaction. "...That didn't make any sense to you, did it?"

He shook his head. "It didn't, but no pressure. A girl's gotta keep some secrets."

She exhaled sharply through her nose and cracked a smile. "You're such an honorable dork sometimes. Someday I'll tell you. I promise."

He handed her Sentret's Pokéball to her. "I'll be looking forward to it. Now, you hungry? Or should we check into our hotel?"

"Hotel first. I lost my appetite during that meeting... But before that, maybe we could look around a bit? I saw a history museum down on the second floor that I was interested in checking out."

- - - - -​

Andrea #2 - Companion interview in Night with the Stars

 

[diamondpearl876]

Bleh, it's been too long. Here we go!

INTERLUDE 5

Glyllin smirked. "I could have, but I enjoy this appearance. I never got to experience what it's like to be a teenager of this century. You should try it, you'd enjoy it."

"Is that why you chose to be one last century as well? And the century before that?"

What a strange form of Halloween these two celebrate...

Anyway, I have nothing against this plot point itself, but in the middle of what has seemed solely like a slice-of-life fic thus far, with fantastical overtones only with respect to the existence of Pokémon, it feels out of place and as if the story does not know what it wants to be or where it's going. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, because when the weird stuff happened to Andrea and Kimberly, plus the missing Tamara, it happened earlier in the fic, and so, it didn't feel out of place. But now that the fic's switching back and forth more between slice-of-life and some borderline epic supernatural genre (I'm also taking into account the "final boss" you've mentioned in #writing), it does. ~40 decent-sized chapters in, I don't think that should be the case. I could've bought Tamara not being mentioned again or fleshed out as planned, but not quite so much this.

"It'd be difficult for you to make a move on them without casting suspicion on us, but... They will be swept up in our plans anyways. Think of this as an opportunity for long term revenge, for that girl embarrassing you so easily."

Their dialogue is pretty good! I get the distinct impression of two very smug people who take pride in how "cunning" they are, and how superior to others they are, heh.

Meredith raised her eyebrow. "Bulbasaur miracle pollen, right?"

"Yes," Maphesia said.

"Uhh... is that allowed in the rules?" Marvin asked, watching the mushroom grow larger and larger.

Meredith lifted her score sheet and quickly skimmed through the judging guidelines. "Uhh... I don't believe it's against the rules, but it probably should be..."

"Yeah, that's a pretty big -- and expensive -- advantage that you can buy if that's allowed in these kinds of competitions."

The show was a fun read. In general, your entertainment shows feel really realistic with, of course, a flair of Pokémon-related details. I especially like the idea of a Bulbasaur miracle pollen here and how it brings in questions about rules, good sportsmanship, etc.

CHAPTER 34

Twenty minutes had passed and she looked at her watch impatiently. "What do you think? Should we leave? Are we capable of finishing this trek without him?"

Juliano happily nodded.

She smiled. "Now, are you saying that because you genuinely believe that, or because you don't want him near me anymore?"

Good ol' faithful Juliano, telling a little white lie to make his trainer feel better. Sometimes it's necessary, really.

"I do appreciate your loyalty and willingness to protect me from everything, Juliano, but do remember that I am an adult who can take care of herself. You've seen me grow to that point with your own eyes."

He shrugged. While she had certainly gotten better at the basics over the past year, he couldn't fully agree with that.

Sounds more like Kimberly's trying to convince herself rather than Juliano, really.

"Yeah... By the way... That woman I saw you come in with, are you travelling with her?"

He nodded. He wasn't anymore, but the nurse didn't need to know that.

She leaned in closer and spoke softly, casting her eyes suspiciously around the people in the lobby. "Keep her safe! I recognized her name when she signed in... she must be a juicy target for those monsters! She's beautiful and a wealthy heiress, too... Imagine the ransom they could get out of her parents after they were done with her..."

Surely a nurse who works with traveling trainers knows that not all traveling companions are particularly close to each other? That they kinda just bump into each other sometimes, like Kimberly and Loren, in fact, did? They might be traveling together, but that doesn't mean he should be trusted with that info. In fact, info about Kimberly's family/past... something Loren would probably already know, if they were close. So, I'd say the nurse's words feel really unrealistic here. And now that I'm caught up, I don't know if him knowing this info was really relevant in the end anyway other than Loren insisting on traveling with her. All that would be needed for that is the "people are going missing" info, I'd think?

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, but she had trouble seeing the truth it displayed. What was a frail-looking and gaunt woman in reality was a pudgy, disgusting mess in her mind's eye. She couldn't see her well-defined collarbone coming to a point on her shoulders, the contours of her rib cage or the pointed nature of her elbows. Rather, she visualized doughy folds above her hips, jiggly arms and thighs, and excessive curvature where she felt there shouldn't be.

Kimberly's body image issues are portrayed pretty well. I think the fic could do with more references to it throughout, because I don't remember there being any hints of these issues while she was with Andrea. People with body image issues are extremely likely to be more self-conscious in the presence of other people, after all, and the way they show self-consciousness is often observable by other people.

Likewise, she felt that she had to improve her gymnastic skills if she was going to focus on such displays, and now with her plans to bring in her Jigglypuff's singing, she wondered if it was time to dust off her piano at home and practice on it for the first time in years. Perhaps even her guitar, which would be much easier to practice with if she was going to continue a life of travel.

I'm glad the coordination ideas are being brought back. I imagine a guitar would be a bit hard to carry around everywhere, haha, but it sounds neat, having coordinators be musicians, too.

CHAPTER 35

It all led to a disastrous performance that shook her confidence to pieces and brought back the question of whether her mentor really did rig her previous contest. She questioned if coordination was right for her then, and she was starting to question it again now. Her hand trembled with anger.

Now this, this is an interesting concept for coordinators without even showing the coordination training or performance itself. You portray really well how it's affected Kimberly's confidence and questioned her beliefs on things she wants to do with her life.

Petyr was silent. "Oh! You did! My apologies, I-I-I don't often check my messages anymore. I'm kept very busy these days." Petyr paused for a moment, and she heard a contented sigh from him. "I missed that sugary voice of yours so much."

She smiled and blushed. "And an opportunity to compliment me again, I see."

"Guilty."

The two shared a laugh, as they had many times in the past. It felt good.

Petyr's not been around long in the fic, but his personality shines through already. He does seem like the type to easily get caught up in drama like the rigging thing, lmao, and relationship scandals, even without Kimberly involved.

"I just need to remember to be on my toes around him, and not forgot how pushy he could get," she reminded herself. "Perhaps when I visit him, it's time to be honest with him about why we broke up... Those rumors provided a convenient excuse, but I'm done being untruthful with my friends."

I'll be interested to see this convo, assuming this means Petyr will show up in person down the line. At any rate, Kimberly's been pretty forthcoming with Andrea so far, so I guess this means she's been successful in her goal to be more truthful?

FAME IS A TREACHEROUS BEAST

I never liked giving them such pompous and on-the-nose names, though I suppose I might have to if I want to be taken seriously as a coordinator. All of the big stars have silly names for their routines, names that sound like they've been lifted from an action anime.

"Perhaps... Spinning Mistress?" I asked myself. It did sound nice, and rolled off the tongue.

Coordination game still runnin' strong. I like seeing her process of training and coming up with performance ideas.

No, no. As much as being honest with him -- honest with myself -- was needed in that moment... I couldn't bring myself to write the truth. I wasn't sure that he would understand... I wasn't even sure that it would be wise to tell him. He was a good man, an innocent victim in this storm of drama. I couldn't risk denting his ego over my choice to confirm the truth about my sexuality, especially on a night that he thought was the beginning of the deepest level of our relationship.

Sexuality's a complicated thing, and that's written nicely here. I'm kinda mad she thought she had to protect his ego by hiding her true self, but, well, that's part of the point of her character, and it's not an unrealistic trait in people (hiding oneself, that is) by any means. It's a strange but interesting contrast to her going off on Loren in the chapters afterward.

CHAPTER 36

"Shadow Claw, huh? Sounds powerful."

"According to the Rose League Trainer's Encyclopedia, there are no documented cases in any sanctioned league competition of a Sentret being able to do something like this... But, before we get carried away: Sentret and Furret are ranked among the least popular choices in competitive training, even below that sewer sludge, Grimer. So... there's a chance that they can do it, but I didn't find any records." She offered the final piece of her granola bar up to her Sentret. "I'm just wondering if we stumbled on one of those rare Pokémon that have the ability to master techniques they usually aren't known for."

I love the worldbuilding here especially! I mean, you do well with non-Pokémon worldbuilding, but when the Pokémon worldbuilding does come up, it's an extra special treat. The thorough documentation of moves and what moves are related to what species is awesome to see. Anyway, I hope to see more of Furball(?) in the flesh soon, haha.

"No, I mean... your mother and I were planning on making a surprise visit to Loch Alstan tomorrow, to come see you! But I think it's best that we put that off for a bit. We don't want to get you sick, too."

Her heart rate increased as she thought about her parents coming for a visit; over the past few months, she'd spun a complex web of stories that detailed how much her life had improved since the start of the year, a majority of stories that were either embellished or outright untruthful.

Yikes, that was a close one. One running thing this fic does well is the sense of impending doom, for lack of a better term, always hanging over Andrea's life. She's barely hanging on by a thread all the time, isn't she?

CHAPTER 37

"I don't think it's anything to do with you. It's probably Patrick -- he's a natural drama magnet, it seems -- who was the target."

She shook her head and grumbled quietly. "Fucking ridiculous..."

"Sorry, it was my mistake to bring it up. I-I-I... I don't want it to seem like... I don't know. My bad."

"No, it's okay. I'm not going to shoot the messenger. At least... now I know that I'm not safe from this nonsense, either."

Silence quickly overtook the two; Emily paced about awkwardly as they continued waiting for Patrick, while Andrea sulked in silence, leaned up against the building. She wondered why she was targeted by such rumors, but she wasn't surprised at the same time. People already seemed to have a problem with her before she spent her first full day in the office after her time in Doranshire, but why?

The awkwardness is real. Yeah, no, no one's safe from this stuff, haha. Poor Andrea. My only gripe here is that... well, Andrea's already been blatantly told why her co-workers dislike her, didn't they? They said it was because she seemed like Dr. Reiland's little pet and that it was like she was getting special treatment?

She approached the checkout and held her breath as the price came up on the register. "Well... that almost wipes out the rest of my first paycheck... Looks like I'm going to be staying with Patrick for a little longer than I hoped... Damn it all."

Doesn't she know you don't get paid to work, but you pay to work? Like pay to play, except in real life. :V But yeah, this is quite the setback for her. I daresay she could've been a bit more responsible with her choices, despite whatever Patrick said, but... well, she's young, and it's her first foray into the real world, really. I'm not surprised.

INTERLUDE 6

"I'd say so. Now, I'm curious why one is in the Caelton Sea... That specific subspecies of Milotic usually doesn't stray far from the Arctic circle. Ugh! I wish I could be there to document this thing in better detail!"

Ahhh, I love Milotic a lot, so I'm happy to see it used in a fic. Its presence here is true to its status in canon, but the extra info you add was nice. And so was seeing Andrea mad she couldn't document it in person. Not that I like seeing her mad - it's just interesting to compare and contrast her reaction to the Milotic with Kimberly's.

So you'd basically be limiting yourself to being a sea hermit if you made the commitment to raise a fish. You'd miss out on so much of the country!"

Being a sea hermit doesn't sound so bad. :V But yeah, this really hits the mark on just how much specific treatment certain Pokémon need. It's a strong argument for being a specialist, heh.

Andrea's knowledgeable lecture began to lose her. All she could do was nod in agreement as she tried to compare her basic knowledge of high school biology to her friend's apparent mastery of genetic terminology.

I think this might be more of a personal pet peeve, but Andrea seems surprisingly too enthusiastic here, to the point where she can't tone down her knowledgeable self. I'd believe the enthusiasm more if this was her specialty, but it's not. Plus, in the real world, academics say you don't really understand the material unless you can say it in layman's terms to someone who knows absolutely 0% of the topic. :V Basically, I think you could've used the space for more worldbuilding, though the scene might've risked dragging on. Hmm... I don't know. I'll leave this here in case it's helpful somehow.

CHAPTER 38

"Mhmm!" she happily hummed. "That was my backup plan in case my major didn't work out for me. If I ever go back to university for my doctorate in biology, I might pick it up again."

"Careful not to bite off too much, now," he warned.

"Trust me, I know."

Man, Patrick gives a lot of unsolicited advice. I guess he's supposed to be pushy, though. I suspect one day he'll go a little too far; he almost did with the necklace questioning, it seems.

"No doubt we could have, but who is to really say?"

"Hmm. All of a sudden I'm very uncomfortable with learning history from a place like this. A shame these kids are being fed this garbage."

Not gonna lie, I didn't see the relevance of all this info. It fits in more like random commentary to me.

"Before we go up, you'll need to pass through this metal detector. Looks like you two brought backpacks with you for some reason, so... Hand 'em over for safekeeping, and surrender any Pokéballs you may be carrying -- even empty ones," the security leader explained. "You'll get them back, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried about it," Patrick answered back as he pulled four Pokéballs out of his pocket and placed them on the counter beside the metal detector.

"Very good point," Patrick said, unstrapping his R-Kit. "We can have 'em back once we pass through, right?"

"Sure. Shouldn't be a problem."

These two bits are opposites of each other, and very close together. It was kinda jarring because it implies his R-Kit is more important to him than his Pokémon?

"No..." she said as she clutched at the fabric resting on her chest once again. "It's that necklace they took from me. It means a lot to me, and I'm worried it'll get lost or stolen."

"You'll get it back when we leave. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Here's another "you'll get it back" bit, not long after the others, if it helps. Mostly I just wanted to comment that I can't remember the necklace in past chapters... Hm. So I'm wondering what the significance is, too, haha. Maybe given to her by an ex?

His pointer moved onto the next portrait, the only woman of the group. "This is my grand-daughter-in-law, Ainsley. She is a physician who works with the Steelport Fire Department. Her task is to train you in the proper use of your equipment, as well as respond to any necessary first aid needs."

Kinda weird that this dude would be blatantly sexist, then show no reservations about Ainsley's position. I guess she is family, though...

"Ugh... I... I just don't want to kill anything else..." Andrea groaned. "I still feel bad about what happened in Nettlefield."

"Hey," he said softly. "Sometimes it's just the nature of our work. We'll do our best to resolve this peacefully first."

Something tells me this job ain't gonna work out for Andrea in the long-term...

 

[Beth Pavell]

Now this one somehow ended up taking a long time.

I think the museum was supposed to show how full of themselves the Ekhardts are. It is a long section to make that point, though, and I think you could have said it more succinctly (Even though the Ekhardts probably wouldn't). This is quite a lengthy chapter, and since you kind of make the point multiple times throughout, that section would be the one to trim.

pearl-chan's got a point about Ainsley. Chalk it up to how you have trouble writing sexism, but this is one arc where a heavily to the point of exclusively male cast really makes more sense.

I really should have more to say on this. Call that a lesson in not leaving it sitting for two weeks before reviewing