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TEEN: Land of the Roses [abandoned]

Linked contents
Land of the Roses [abandoned] Night with the Stars [Land of the Roses spinoff]
Chapter 32: The Offer
    • Land of the Roses
    Chapter 32: The Offer

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    It was a peaceful afternoon in Loch Alstan. The weather had improved significantly over the course of the day; the morning chill had gone, the precipitation had ceased and evaporated and the sun was shining brightly in the clear sky. A gentle breeze had picked up over the day, kicking up a thin fog of fluttering pollen from the blooming trees. Despite the alluring weather, Andrea loitered in the lobby of the Reiland Institute. She had pulled up one of the chairs to the large glass window beside the main entrance and watched the world outside. Even with an evening that was shaping up to be a bad one that was filled with uncertainty and loneliness, she felt at peace as she observed the urban wildlife frolic on the extensive grass fields just outside of the door.

    Nearly half an hour passed in silence as she gazed out that window, but that silence was eventually shattered by a familiar voice.

    "Andrea? You're still here?" Patrick asked, approaching her from behind.

    She turned to look up at him and offered a smile. "Yeah..."

    "What's up? I figured you'd be gone by now, you seemed pretty anxious to leave."

    She silently continued her watch. "Mmm."

    "Oh! Do you need someone to walk you home? Must be pretty scary to be on your own after what happened to you and your friend."

    He had a point. Despite viewing herself as an independent woman who could take care of herself in most situations, she was a little uneasy with walking the streets alone. But walking alone wasn't at the front of her mind. She hesitated for a moment before she shook her head and finally spoke up. "No, it's not that, it's... Ugh... Let's talk about this outside."

    "Sure. Looks beautiful out there!"

    She led him out through the main entrance and encouraged him to follow her down the pathway that led to the street. In silence, they crossed the trolley tracks that marked the unofficial border between the town's business district and the suburb district of Sable Shores; one by one, they passed by the post office, a brick and mortar liquor store, a Pokémon daycare and a lengthy row of housing.

    As they started to pass in front of a grocery store, Patrick's curiosity got the better of him. "We've been walking for ten minutes, but you haven't said anything. You're acting real mysterious, what's up?"

    She sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. "So. It really hurts me to say it, but... I have nowhere to go tonight."

    "Nowhere to go?" he asked. Her silence set the gears in his head in motion and he figured out what she meant in short order. "Wait... Are you telling me that you still don't have a place to live out here?"

    She quietly and shakily answered, "Yep..."

    "Man! Are you serious?"

    A nod.

    "What did you do last night? You at least rented a room at a motel, right? I can't imagine you survived on the streets with the snap freeze last night."

    She laughed nervously. "I did, the Stargazer. The room was okay, but... The truth is, I can't afford to live out here. Not on my own at least. This town is crazy expensive! All of the apartments are too much, even in the ghetto down on the south side, and renting that motel every night is going to bleed me dry. I did the math while I was sitting inside of the lab... I've got about four days left and then I'm broke. My next pay day is... is..."

    "Andrea..." he started. He stopped in his tracks, grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around. His eyes met hers; they glistened in the sunlight as they struggled to stay open. He could see the same sadness welling up in them that he saw earlier that morning. "Is this one of those things you didn't want to talk about?"

    "I didn't want to talk about anything, but... Yeah. This is one of the worst ones." She looked down at the ground, then back up at him. "I should have talked, because... I might have to quit, and I'll have to decide that in the next couple of days. Unless a miracle happens, there's just no way I can stay here. I at least want to be able to afford my train ticket out of here..."

    "Your parents can't help at all?"

    She shook her head. "Not really, no. My dad is still paying off the mortgage on my childhood home, and he's struggling to make ends meet himself despite being a decorated police officer. Can thank my mother for that."

    His eyebrow raised, but he felt a vibe of bitterness in her words, so he didn't pry. "And you've got no friends in town, unfortunately..."

    "You're starting to see the problem here. It's all adding up... and it's just about ready to crush me..."

    "Hummm, well. I've got an idea, but you probably won't like it."

    Her posture stiffened. "I don't like when suggestions begin this way. What is it?"

    "Would you be willing to stay at my place for awhile? You know, until you get on your feet."

    Her heart skipped a beat. Did she hear him correctly? Was his offer genuine? "Are you serious?" she demanded. "Like, serious serious?"

    "I am."

    She cracked a smile and her heart rate went up. She worked up the courage to reach out and hug him, and then the specter of doubt overtook her yet again. A quiet voice in the back of her mind warned her once again about the rumors circulating around the office about him; as had happened so many times before in similar situations, the voice told her not to celebrate, but to be cautious, even angry at his suggestion.

    "He's just a predator looking to get in your pants. He's not really interested in your wellbeing. Don't do it." the voice warned.

    She let him go and studied his expression. What the voice told her didn't match what she saw in him, but the warning felt very compelling and even carried with it a sense of urgency that she couldn't quite explain. She could tell that it wasn't her conscience speaking, or the wise words of her friends and family, but... something else. Something dark. Something destructive.

    She hesitated to speak further and had trouble getting her words out properly. She was ready to tell him no before she reminded herself of the alternative: she would have to quit her dream job and either move back to Aughrim with Webster, which would involve similar struggles of barely being able to pay for the basics, or move back in with her parents in Goldwheat Meadows and live with the fact that she lost her shot at a decent life. Both alternatives made her uneasy, but what struck the nerve the most was the prospect of losing what she had worked so hard for over the past four years.

    After a series of failed attempts filled with broken words, she finally said, "I don't know, this feels like... I-I-I don't think I'm comfortable --"

    "Andrea, please, I'm being serious here. Look, I know of the rumors about me that are circulating around the office. They're fucking frustrating, but they're just rumors and I don't care about them right now. I promise you, on the lives of everyone I love, I'm not trying to take advantage of you if that's what you're worried about. You need help, that's far more important than my reputation."

    She looked off to the side in silence.

    "From the sound of things, your life is finally starting to turn for the better, but all of that progress is in danger. The Reiland Institute and the work you'll be doing here is exactly what you need to get that confidence of yours back. I'd hate to see you just fade away and have your life fall apart again because you lost this marvelous opportunity to work here. I'm offering my help because you're a gentle soul in desperate need of some stability, and I genuinely want to help."

    She shook her head. "I figure that you just want to help me... But when I left for university, my mother warned me about trusting people too soon, and with your reputation... I'm just uncomfortable with the idea, you know?"

    "I understand. I hope I wasn't --"

    "No, you're right. I do have nowhere to go. Maybe... I can stay overnight, at least? See if this even works out?"

    "I'll do what I can to make sure this is as comfortable as can be for you."

    She opened her arms wide and fell into him for another hug. "Thank you..."

    - - - - -​

    Patrick's house was an unassuming story-and-a-half bungalow in the middle of the quiet neighborhood of Sable Shores. Grey and brown stone slabs made up the bulk of the construction, bounded by smooth, white pillars at every corner. A burgundy terracotta roof composed of intricately designed but weather-worn tiles sat atop the house. Large oak trees covered the house in shade for much of the day. Like much of the neighborhood, the entire property was walled in with a chest-high wall of golden sandy bricks.

    She couldn't help but think it was cute. "It reminds me of... home. A lot of the houses in Goldwheat look like this. Mine didn't have the stone walls like that and was a little bigger, but... It's nice to see a place like this again. Aughrim's neighborhoods were a little too utilitarian for my liking."

    "Does that make you feel any more comfortable?"

    "It actually kinda does."

    He nodded happily. "Good! Let's go inside, I'll show you around."

    The inside of the house really sold the impression of a cozy home to her. The first thing she noticed upon stepping inside was the thick aroma of cinnamon that hung in the air. Floral patterned wallpaper was hidden under an assortment of handcrafted ornaments that were constructed of dried plant material, such as flowers, leaves, pine cones and twigs. Scattered amongst the windows of the living room were about a dozen bonsai trees, each tamed and delicately trimmed in their own unique way, and from where she stood, she could see more bonsais resting in the window of the neighboring dining room. There was a variety of entertainment at their finger tips, from books to board games to an extensive movie collection.

    She was impressed by how much was packed into the living room, but was hesitant to say so out loud. "Just like Mama McKenna's place..." she recalled.

    They moved onto the dining room. At the center of the table was more of Patrick's handiwork, a cornucopia of dried woven reeds, filled and surrounded by fresh fruit and an assortment of nuts. In a little alcove sat a cabinet, filled with intricately designed silverware and hand painted porcelain dishes. Feathers were arranged in patterns along the sides of the cabinet, feathers she could easily identify as belonging to two species: the Common Lanark Starly and the Northlands Taillow. On the side of the room opposite from the cabinet was a large glass terrarium that was decorated with plant material and a fallen log, and lit by a bright orange heat lamp.

    Curious of what was kept inside, she was immediately drawn to the terrarium. After a quick search, she came up with nothing. "What do you have in here?"

    "Burmy."

    "Burmy, huh? I don't see --" she said, only to stop when a pair of yellow eyes emerged from a clump of leaves and twigs that hung from the log. "Oh! Fascinating! I've never actually seen a real one before."

    "Yep, they're not from around here. He's one of my research projects that I picked up while I was visiting the Kingdom of Constantia a couple months ago. I wanted to see if the cooler climate affected his cloak in any way... but he didn't take well to the cold, unfortunately."

    She tapped on the glass and smiled. "So now you've got him in a glass box and you're baking him with a lamp?"

    "He loves it!"

    "Hmm. Sounds like your experiment fell apart!"

    "Yep!" He laughed.

    As she looked around the room, she couldn't help but feel like it was too nice. "There's no way that Patrick lives alone in a house like this... He has to have a wife that he's not telling me about... Or, like, his sickly mother or something. This place is too clean for a single guy..."

    She continued her exploration of the dining room some more; two doors sat on either side of the silverware cabinet and she cautiously opened the one closest to the living room. A staircase that disappeared into the darkness below awaited her.

    "There's the basement. The bathroom and laundry room are down there. Utility stuff like the water heater and gas lines are down there, too. I don't suppose you want a tour of the basement, do you?"

    "You don't have handcuffs on the walls down there, do you?" She instantly regretted her words. "Sorry. I shouldn't say shit like that. I-I... sorry."

    He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't respond. "And through here..." he said, resting his hand on the handle of the other door. With a twist of the handle, the door opened and revealed a staircase that climbed upward. "Up here is my bedroom. There's also another room up there, too, where I do all of my hobby work."

    "Hobby work?" she asked, looking around the room. "Like, all of these decorations hanging on the walls? Do you make them yourself?"

    He nodded.

    "Oh! Neat!" she offered. "What a strange guy... Supposedly a metal head and a skirt chaser, but... bonsai trees? Handcrafts? How the hell am I supposed to make any assumptions about this guy?"

    The next room was the kitchen, and it was fairly standard: a refrigerator, an electric stove, a microwave, a dishwasher, and a sink, all rounded off and complimented by a rich brown granite countertop. The refrigerator was understandably under stocked for someone who appeared to live by himself, but she was still worried about it; it barely looked as if there was enough to provide for a man, his Flareon and his Burmy, let alone a guest. The presence of three bottles of beer inside were worrying, too, but she believed she could be responsible about it and was capable of controlling herself around them.

    "Welp. That's the tour, I guess."

    "It's a nice place!" she said with cheer. "Thank you for having me over, I'll try not to be a burden."

    "Don't worry about it, I'm just thinking of how nice it'll be to have someone around again. It's been awhile."

    "Oh?"

    "Yeah, one of our co-workers used to live here with me awhile back, before she got hired -- Uh! Long story, you probably don't want to hear it."

    "Uhhh-hmmm... Maybe some day." she mumbled. It was a curious thought that brought a detail about the house to the front of her mind. "On a similar note, I can't help but notice that you don't have a spare room..."

    "I kinda do upstairs, but it's filled with my craft-related junk."

    She put her hands to her hips and raised an eyebrow at him. "...And how exactly is me staying over going to work? Because we are not sharing your bedroom. Don't take this personally, but I'd rather try my luck sleeping in a tree than in your bed, and I don't care how much you promise me that no funny business will happen."

    He seemed genuinely hurt by her words, but he understood them and shrugged it off as he shook his head. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't even going to suggest that. Let's go back to the den." He led her back into the living room, then pointed out the angular sofa that stood in front of the TV. "It's not ideal, but it should at least be comfortable." He reached his fingers into a slit in the door frame that separated the living room and the dining room, then dragged a sliding door out of it.. "And for your privacy, a sliding door, it's even got a lock on it. I'll knock before I enter if it's closed."

    She wandered over and sat on the sofa. He was right, it wasn't ideal; however, it would do for a makeshift bed. "I'm gonna miss my bed."

    "Well, I'm hoping you'll be on your feet sooner rather than later, because I can tell you're uncomfortable with this whole situation."

    She nodded, and agreed with the idea of her stay being a short one. "It'll take awhile for me to warm up to the idea... I'm hoping to be out before then."

    "Hey, if push comes to shove and you're here for awhile, I'd be fine with it. I can clear out my craft room and we can set you up a proper bedroom."

    "Mmm..."

    He looked around cautiously, trying to think of what else to show her, but nothing came to mind. "Well. I guess that's everything... Let me know what kind of boundaries you want, too."

    "Boundaries?"

    "Yeah, like... how much do you want me to interact with you, if at all? Will we be doing dinner together in the dining room? That kinda stuff."

    "Uhh... Whatever you feel comfortable with. I don't want things to be silent or impersonal between us, but... I don't know. This will take some adjusting. Just treat me like you would any other guest, and if that becomes a problem... we'll figure it out."

    "Heh, well! I don't usually have guests, so I don't really know how to treat them, but... Yep! We will! Anyways, I'm gonna head up the road to Lucinda's Garden and Farm Market and pick up some stuff for dinner. You wanna tag along, or do you wanna stay here?"

    "I'd like to stay here, if you don't mind. I need to get used to these surroundings."

    He nodded. "Well then, got any requests for dinner?"

    She smiled. "This farm market doesn't happen to do garlic pizza, does it?"

    "'fraid not. We can do pizza tomorrow night, though!"

    "I'd like that. But for tonight, pick up whatever you like. I'm not too picky."

    "Right on. I'll be back in about an hour."

    The house fell eerily silent as the door closed behind him; contrary to what she expected, she felt more uncomfortable now that she was alone in the house. She wanted to rush after him in an attempt to escape the distressing feelings, but she was cautious of giving him the wrong signals. Instead, she resolved to toughen up and push through the feelings.

    She tried her best to make herself at home and flopped onto the couch. She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels for a few minutes. What she ended up with, she didn't care; she simply wanted some background noise to shatter the silence. She eventually came to a stop on a sports broadcast that was covering the Lord of the Links professional golf tournament, then reached for her phone.

    She wanted to reach out to one of her friends about her situation in hopes that one of them might be able to comfort her. Webster entered her mind first; she felt bad that she didn't get to properly thank him for all that he'd done for her and wanted to fix that, but at the same time was simply too overwhelmed to gather the courage up to correspond with him. She knew that he'd be happy that she was off the street, but she also knew that he was likely to show a bit of jealousy as well. He always assured her that he knew he never had a reason to be, but it was still something he struggled with.

    Her mind fell back on Kimberly. Kimberly had seen her through some tough spots already despite the two having only just recently met, and she felt comfortable around her, both physically and as a distant friend. Though she didn't know for certain, she felt that Kimberly would probably be the more approachable of the two with circumstances like these. There was an unspoken bond among women everywhere, either rich or poor, successful or hopeless, an understanding she knew she just couldn't count on with Webster. She typed up a message in hopes of striking up a conversation.

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:12 PM
    'hi you around?'​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:15 PM
    'Hello, friend!'​

    The response was warm and friendly, and it got a smile out of her. "She sure does love calling me that, doesn't she?"

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:15 PM
    'hi there! am I interrupting anything?'​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:17 PM
    'I'm out for dinner with a friend I met in town, but what can I do for you?'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:17 PM
    'just wanted some idol chit chat'​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:18 PM
    'Idol? haha'
    'Thank you for holding me in such high regard! : P'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:18 PM
    'dammit, idle* something youll want to learn about me is that i cant spell'
    'anyways I wanted your opinion about something'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:21 PM
    'Sure! Is something troubling you?'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:22 PM
    'thats putting it lightly'
    'uhh i dont have a place to live in this town yet (thats a long story) but my supervisor invited me to stay with him for a few days'
    'does that sound fishy to you at all'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:23 PM
    'Oh no! I hope your situation changes soon!"
    'I would say that it's perhaps a little fishy, but I don't know your supervisor very well.'
    'Are you worried that he might abuse his position and act inappropriately with you?'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:24 PM
    'a little'
    'im worried that hell start pressuring me for sex soon cause he doesnt seem to want anythin at all in return'
    'i was stupid enough to let him wrap that finger around me now all he needs to do is squeeze'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:25 PM
    'What makes you worry that much, if I may ask?'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:25 PM
    'itll probably sound dumb'
    'ive been warned that hes got a reputation for being a perv and making the other girls at my job uncomfortable'
    'maybe im buying too much into those rumors cause i havent see that side of him yet but im still worried'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:26 PM
    'Do you have no other alternatives? That sounds like such a risky situation!'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:27 PM
    'got nothin'
    'no friends no family no money'
    'believe me i didnt want to do this but ill lose my job if i dont cuz i cant afford to live in this stupid town'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:29 PM
    'Oh! Would you like me to cover your rent for awhile? I wouldn't mind.'​

    She smiled. She wondered where this sudden outpouring of support had come from; her life would have been so much easier -- so much different -- if she had just received the same amount of support a mere six months ago. Like Patrick's offer, it gave her a boost of confidence that her life was going to be okay, but unlike his offer, there was a sense of warmth and happiness that accompanied it as well. Also unlike Patrick, she had a hard time justifying the idea of accepting her help. Money apparently grew on trees for Kimberly so it really was no concern for her, but something still felt wrong about it, especially since she had already taken advantage of her good nature at nearly every opportunity.

    She made a joke to herself to smooth over the refusal she was about to make: "What, she looking to hook up with me, too?"

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:31 PM
    'what like a benefactor or something? i appreciate the offer but i dont need one of those. ill have to pass'
    'ive already told patrick im at least staying the night. maybe a couple days. dont wanna change my mind so quickly'
    'and honestly ive taken advantage of your good will enough over the past couple of weeks and i dont want to walk all over you even if you want to help'
    'feels like you have a hard time saying no when it comes to helping people'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:32 PM
    'I was born and raised that way!'
    'Are you absolutely sure? If you don't want my help, I understand. But I want you to understand as well, this would be no problem for me.'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:32 PM
    'well the other big reason i want to try this out is that i want to know if i can trust him'
    'him and i are going to be working together a lot while im here at the institute'
    'i dont want a cloud hanging over me telling me to be worried about him all the time'
    'if i get hurt doing this thats a valuable lesson that ill learn'
    'at least it seems like he wants to do this right and is giving himself tons of boundaries and stuff'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:34 PM
    'That's promising! But do keep your guard up.'
    'Remember: You're a strong woman, Andrea. You don't owe him anything like that.'
    'The second he makes an unwanted advance like that, I want you to walk out his door and never look back.'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:35 PM
    'ill definately walk out but ill look back'
    'remember i gotta work with this guy'
    'thank you for the concern though! reminds me of how great a friend you really are!'
    'hope well see each other soon cause i kinda miss you already lol'    ​

    She awaited a response, but after a few minutes of not receiving one, she figured the conversation had either ended or she made Kimberly uncomfortable with such a confession. Whatever the case, she dropped her phone on the couch beside her and started to pay attention to the golf tournament that was on the TV. She realized the absurdity of it all.

    "What the fuck am I doing with my life? I'm watching golf of all things?" she said as she shook her head. As she surfed the channels again, she thought about the situation and sighed. "I really do hope I'm buying into the rumors too much... I just hope Patrick doesn't turn this around on me and start expecting me to sleep with him... Awfully suspicious that he'll have me over for nothing in return, especially if he's willing to have me over for more than a couple days already... He seems like a nice guy, but... well, so did Larson, and I had trouble saying no to him... And he didn't even have any power over my future... My life is a fucking mess, hopefully that --" Her thoughts were interrupted as her phone buzzed again:

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 6:46 PM
    'Aww, that's so sweet! I miss you, too! <3'
    'You're a much better friend than this new person I'm stuck travelling with...'
    'That's a long story though, and I can't get into it now... I've got something I have to take care of, so I'll speak to you later!'
    'Looking forward to seeing you again soon! : )'    ​

    She smiled. "Hopefully, Kim. Hopefully."

    - - - - -​

    Author's commentary: Don't mind the numerous spelling mistakes/improper words in the text conversation. In regards to Andrea at least, every single one of them is intended.
     
    • Chapter 33: To Be Strong and Independent
    • Updates and edits: Changed the title of the chapter from "A Long Time Coming" to "To Be Strong and Independent

    Land of the Roses
    Chapter 33: To Be Strong and Independent

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    It was an early yet busy morning for Andrea. She was hard at work in the kitchen, preparing herself and her gracious host a breakfast of cooked eggs, freshly cut orange slices and a side of buttered toast. Most of her attention wasn't on the stove, however, but on a small book beside her: A Trainer's Guide: Loch Alstan Wildlife.

    "...the, the... Cwa -- Cwii -- Something Cliffs are characterized by hand carved stone stairs and fantastic views, but try not to be too distracted!" she quietly recited. "The guard rails in this area are in bad shape or completely broken, and drops of dozens of meters are common... Cwmytrhydgwyryddyn Cliffs? How the hell do you even pronounce that?"

    Behind her, the sound of footfalls on the stairs in the dining room were faint and mostly drowned out by the sizzling of the eggs cooking on the stove; Patrick stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep. A smile appeared on his face as his nose wiggled. "Oh! So that's what smells like my mom's cooking..." He let out a hearty yawn and stretched.

    She laughed. "It's not going to taste like it, I can guarantee that." She grabbed the plate of already-prepared eggs and fruit slices and offered it across the kitchen island. "Here. It's the least I can do for you. For taking me in off the street, I mean."

    "Ehh, weren't no thing. I do appreciate the breakfast, though! It's been a couple weeks since I've had something proper. Always so damn busy..."

    "Well! It looks like you will be getting something in return, then. I happen to be a decent cook if I do say so myself."

    He took a bite out of the scrambled eggs. "Mmm! Yeah! Not bad, better than I do at least. Make me a decent breakfast every morning and you're welcome to stay as long as you like!"

    She laughed. She knew he wasn't serious, or at least she hoped he wasn't; not because of his excessive generosity, but because she didn't want to risk becoming complacent in her situation.

    "Surprised to see you up so early, your day usually doesn't start for another two hours. Did you forget that we have the day off?"

    "I didn't. I just had a little trouble sleeping, that's all. New surroundings, you know?"

    "Fair enough." As he took another bite of his breakfast, his eyes drifted across the island and he noticed the book that was open on the other end. He reached over and turned it around to see what it was. "A Trainer's Guide: Loch Alstan Wildlife?" he asked. "Where'd you get this?"

    "I found that in the lobby of the Stargazer a couple nights ago," she answered. She shut down the burner on the stove, grabbed another plate and added her sunny side up eggs to it, then joined Patrick at the island. "I've been thinking, ever since that... 'witch' attacked me and Kim... I was fatally unprepared for that situation. I'm lucky I'm alive."

    "I'm still a little skeptical of that story, if I'm honest. I mean the witch part. I don't doubt that you ran into something out there, but of all the data you brought back... It didn't support that angle of the story. People casting magic spells... That's a hard pill to swallow."

    "Yeah, yeah, I know. I doubt I'll be convincing anyone soon, and I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is how vulnerable I am. The bone monster I ran into, too... If Kimberly and her Blastoise weren't there to save my ass, I wouldn't be here right now. And then there's the simple fact..."

    "All those young women that are disappearing, right?"

    "Yep... I need to be able to defend myself somehow, so I've been thinking... It's time I finally get a Pokémon of my own."

    Patrick gave her a smile. "I knew you'd come around at some point, but wow, I didn't think it'd happen so soon! I just wish it were different circumstances that inspired you."

    "Yeah... Self defense aside, I'm also thinking that it'll be nice having something rely on me for a change. It'll inspire me to be a better person, I'm sick of always being the parasite."

    "There is no better kick in the arse than something needing your attention to survive."

    "Yeah..."

    He clapped his hands together excitedly. "Well! I've got some good news for ya, this'll be easy! The Reiland Institute frequently deals with hundreds of Pokémon on a temporary basis, mainly as research subjects and as part of catch-and-release tagging programs. I could arrange for one to be officially transferred into your ownership, if you'd like. Shouldn't take more than a couple days to get all of the paperwork sorted."

    She shook her head fiercely. "Absolutely not. Pokémon aren't dumb, Patrick. They don't like being poked and prodded in a laboratory, and they lash out at scientists on a regular basis, as I'm sure you're well aware of. I'm looking for something to protect me, not turn on me the first chance it gets."

    He paused for a moment and looked off to the side. "We do have several minor injuries a month because of unruly research subjects..."

    "Exactly. Not every research subject reacts violently, but enough do for me to be cautious. I want to do this properly, like all of those competitive trainers do. I want to catch one. I've always been told that earning a Pokémon's trust is much easier that way."

    He nodded. "It is. You're going to need some help with that, though."

    "Yeah, I was counting on yours. Would you be up for that?"

    "Of course," he answered happily. "Got any ideas?"

    "First, a question," she started. She grabbed the book from him and flipped to a previous page, then ran her finger down the margin until she found a note she had written down. "Have you ever been to the... Balmore Ponds Park?"

    "I have, but it's been awhile. I used to visit a lot when I was a kid, and my sister got married there a couple years back."

    "How far away is it? When I looked it up on the map, it looked like a... two hour walk?" she asked with a shrug.

    "Yeah, that sounds about right." He finished the last of his breakfast and slouched comfortably in his chair. "Could be quicker if you ride on the handlebars of my bike, but --"

    She shook her head and giggled. "I don't think so. I tried that once before with someone, nearly broke my neck."

    "Heh, well, a walk isn't so bad."

    "Is that something we can do today, do you think?"

    He nodded. "It is. I didn't have any plans for today, other than stay in and work on my crafts for a bit. This'll be good, though, I'm running low on feathers... Maybe I can find a few while we're out there."

    "Great!"

    He wandered over to the coffee press and grabbed a mug from the shelf above it, then reflexively grabbed the empty pot and angled it over his mug. It took him a second to realize it was empty. "Oh! No coffee... Figured you got a start on that, too."

    She sheepishly shook her head. "You should know by now that I don't like coffee, so I didn't think about it... Next time I make you breakfast, I'll remember it."

    He started up the machine and placed an Instabrew container into the slot. "You really don't have to. You're welcome to do it if you'd like, but I'm not expecting breakfast every day. You're not my servant, you're a guest."

    "I'm aware. It's just what I do."

    "While I'm waiting on this to brew, I'm gonna grab a shower. After that, we can get started. It's a long walk to Balmore."


    - - - - -​

    "So..." Patrick said in a cautious manner. "I should have asked this earlier, but what exactly are you expecting to find here?"

    "I've got a few things in mind, but I'm hoping for something reliable and powerful."

    "Depends on how you define powerful. You're unlikely to find a true powerhouse in this park, we mostly just get the cuddly types around here. You want real power -- something that could keep you safe from just about anything -- you'll need to head into the countryside and spend a few days out there, and then you're going to have to spend months, maybe even years raising it. But before we even get to that, remember the key fact: you're not even a trainer. You're going to have trouble with anything but a simple start."

    "I understand that."

    "Good. I don't want to read in the papers next week about how you got yourself killed because you thought a Metapod could save you from a psychotic crack head."

    She laughed. "Oh, come on! Have a little faith in me, would you? I'm not that inexperienced! I remember just two weeks ago you were praising my strategies when you couldn't figure out how to scare off that Donphan."

    "That was good, but don't let that get to your head."

    "I know. I won't."

    "Good! Now let's go hunting!" he happily said. He pointed towards a large sign just a few dozen meters ahead of them. "There's a map of the park up there, let's figure out where we're going. I doubt we'll have the time to cover this whole place in one day, so we're going to need to figure out your priorities."

    Andrea laid out her plans as she ran her finger along the map: first they would cross the flower-choked meadow in front of them as they made their way towards the largest pond in the park, Scáthán Mór. After that, they would follow the banks of the pond until they arrived at the forested section at the southern end of the park. She wanted to follow the trails until they reached the rocky cliffs, then loop around back into the forest and follow Balon's Creek back towards the ponds. The plan would give her four distinct environments in which to look for a wide variety of Pokémon; though at this point she realized she was a beggar, she still intended to choose her first catch.

    They started their walk towards the flowery meadow, and they could already see their first Pokémon of the day: Butterfree. Nearly two dozen fluttered about in the breeze, wafting from flower to flower as they collected nectar and spread pollen around. They carelessly went about their business as Andrea and Patrick left the established trail and waded into the chest-high shrubs and flowers.

    As they walked among the flowers, Patrick tried to ward off the silence. "Speaking of two weeks ago, I recall that you said you had a reason why you never got into training as a hobby... Which I still think is strange for a biologist. You also said you'd tell me that story some time."

    "I will, but it won't be today," she answered. "I'm in a good mood, I'm focused on this. That story involves an ex-boyfriend of mine, and I don't want to remind myself of how much I despise that man. That'll just ruin my day."

    "I understand. I wouldn't do that to you, I won't push it."

    She stopped in her tracks and held her hand aloft, palm facing the sky. She stood like a statue as one of the Butterfree approached and landed on her fingertips. "Hey, Patrick!"

    Patrick turned around. "Hey! Look at you, you're a fairytale princess!"

    "Aporia crataegi rosameno," she said. "Lesser Lanark Butterfree, I believe... Characterized by its small size and the pink and red gradient hues along the base of its pointed, rather than rounded, wings."

    "Uhh, I think so?" Patrick said, unsure if she was correct. "You're not thinking of capturing one of these, are you? There's no way this thing can reliably defend you, I could squish it between the palms of my hands if I wanted."

    She watched as the Butterfree fluttered off into the wind, screeching in terror at the suggestion. "No... just trying to brush up on my taxonomy. It's been too long."

    They visited Scáthán Mór next, a nearly mile-long winding scar cut into the land that was filled with murky water. Along the shores, the pond was choked with a thick growth of reeds and cattails, while colonies of lily pads had taken root throughout much of the rest. Every now and then the mirror-like surface would be disturbed by a bubble of gas or broken by the motions of a red fish. Andrea couldn't positively identify the species of the fish from its brief appearance, but theorized two likely candidates: Magikarp or Goldeen.

    "Carassius auratus ryukin..." she recited quietly to herself. "I know what I should catch! A Magikarp!"

    Patrick instantly picked up on her joke and laughed. "Well, that'd be nice and powerful for ya... if you don't mind waiting twenty years. In the meantime, you could clobber attackers with it!"

    "Ha. Yeah."

    Their journey along the pond's perimeter was rather uneventful. Most of the Pokémon listed in the brochure were out and about, but they scattered the moment anyone approached; Corphish skittered into the protection of the water, Bidoofs took shelter inside their dams, Woopers fled to the safety of the reeds and Poliwags returned to the depths of the pond. Usually she was grateful that most Pokémon out in the wild typically avoided human contact, contrary to the cautionary tales of trainers who struggle to move more than five meters before being assaulted by the hundredth Zubat, but in this case, it wasn't helpful.

    "How difficult are capturing these things? Obviously I've never done it before."

    "More difficult than you might imagine. First you have to find one that won't run at the sight of a human... Which makes some of the easier to train ones harder to initially capture. It's a catch-22. I hope it doesn't come down to it, but we might have to employ some age old hunting tactics to corner one."

    "Hmm."

    "So what do you think? Want to go around the pond one more time to see if any opportunities present themselves? Or are you ready to hit the forest?"

    "The forest. I've got my eyes on something in there." She broke from the paved pathway and led him through an unofficial trail of trodden grass, created by visitors themselves over the years. "The trainer's guide said to look carefully for it in here, but also stressed that seeing one might not happen to everyone."

    "Oh yeah? Whatcha looking for?"

    "Something called Chikorita."

    "Oh, yeah! I've seen one of them around here before, a couple years back! They're friendly little buggers, I think you'd like 'em if you find one."

    "Here's hoping."


    - - - - -​

    The crunch of the previous Autumn's dried leaves under their feet echoed against the forest around them. It concerned Andrea: the trail they were on was poorly marked and even more poorly maintained, and the worry of getting lost was nagging at her in the back of her mind. She assured herself that it would be fine, however, as even if she couldn't physically see the trail ahead of her, they were at least accurately marked on her R-Kit's map. Still, if they got lost, it would be her fault, as she was the one in charge and she was frequently breaking from her map's trails to investigate the curiosities of the forest.

    The Pokémon of the forest were just as weary of the intruding humans as those in the field and near the pond. The casual observer might assume that the woods were more or less lifeless that day; Andrea, however, was on the lookout for both visible movement in the forest and signs that Pokémon had been in the area recently. One such sign she pointed out was a bundle of oats that were carefully gathered up and tied to the end of a branch of an oak tree.

    "Check that out. See those river oats hanging from that tree?"

    Patrick strained to see what she was talking about until he eventually found the amber stalks dangling among the green leaves. "Yeah? I've noticed a couple before, what's up with that?"

    "That's a sign that a Sentret has been in the area."

    "Really?" he asked. He smiled. "Look at you! All this knowledge."

    "While I was working on breakfast, I was reading up on all of this. I've been keeping my eye out for stuff like this, I bet you haven't."

    "Nope. Hadn't even thought to."

    "And I'm supposed to rely on you... I'm screwed!" she playfully joked. "Well, that little bundle of oats probably isn't going to help us actually find a Sentret, but I know they're in the area now."

    "So, what is it? Just food storage for later?"

    She nodded and explained further. It was a clever little trick that Sentrets had been using since the dawn of the species: they would gather up their food source from nearby rivers, bind the stems together with a complex twist of braids, then tie them to the ends of small branches. The cleverness of it was that this method warded off theft by other Sentrets, especially the more well-fed ones; the lighter ones would be able to reach these bundles later on, while the heavier ones would bend the branches and even break them during their attempted heists. This in turn discouraged the formation of an alpha hierarchy within a territory, as any male could earn the affection of a female with their safely stored food supply, which in turn explains why Sentret populations are consistently high even during periods of scarcity.

    "And people want to claim that Pokémon are just dumb animals," she sneered. "Sometimes I think they're smarter than us in the ways that actually matter."

    "You'll get no argument from me."

    It didn't take long for them to actually find a Sentret in the area: one was perched upon a branch above the trail, watching them closely. Every now and then, it would dexterously raise up on its tail and make a chittering noise, then drop down onto its feet again and stare at them.

    Patrick suggested it to her. "It might not be a Chikorita, but what do you think? Do Sentrets interest you at all?"

    She shrugged as she stared up at the Sentret above them. "Ehh... a little, maybe? They're cute and friendly, but... I'm not really looking for that, you know? Maybe later down the road one would make a nice cuddly companion."

    They waved goodbye to the Sentret and continued along their way, deeper into the forest. The tree cover quickly thickened, shrouding them in a chilly shade that was nearly 10°C lower than the fields and ponds of the park; the chill was further amplified as they came across small banks of snow that still lingered from the winter that ended nearly two months before. The trail rapidly deteriorated even further; the dead leaves that littered the trail behind them were buried under silty mud in some places and drowned in murky puddles elsewhere.

    "These poor boots have been to the gates of hell and back again..." she lamented as she struggled to free her feet from the muck. "I should really be treating them better than this considering they're designer Misfit Angels..."

    She initially led Patrick into the forest thinking that it would be no problem, but she carelessly disregarded the park's trail difficulty tiers on the map, specifically the 'challenging' difficulty ascribed to their current trail. The terrain was growing more and more rugged; the trails were narrowing, pushing up against rocky cliffs with sheer drops of up to 50 feet. The only saving grace was that the trails were primarily composed of stone steps, constructed in ancient times. Another bonus was that they had crossed into a good environment for finding another Pokémon that she was hoping to find: Aron. She was hesitant to explain her desire to find and catch one, however, as Patrick would certainly try to use her inexperience against her as a reason to turn around and look for something easier to raise.

    The land was cut by long dried up stoney ravines and connected by old wooden bridges. Crossing them was a nerve wracking experience, as their collapse likely meant an agonizing and drawn out death, but they pushed forward. Life among the cliffs and gravel trails felt even more sparse than the quiet forest, but Andrea still saw the signs of Pokémon activity around her. Bite marks in the stone told her that Aron indeed lived in the area, while the presence of rugged twig nests scattered in the cliffs showed that Spearow and Fearow called the area home. Every now and then she'd spot a clump of coarse cotton among the trees, a sign that Swablu and Altaria also inhabited the area.

    Despite the promising signs, they didn't find much other than a few Spearows perched upon the rocks that fled as they approached. Eventually, their time among the cliffs had come to a close as they started their descent through the hills and back into the shady embrace of the forest.

    "Well, if you want to catch something today, we're going to have to start being less picky," Patrick warned. "Won't be long before we reach Balon's Creek and start to wind down our time here."

    She growled. "I know. I doubt we're going to see that Chikorita I was looking for..."

    "This is the reality of being a Pokémon trainer. You're not always going to get what you want unless you get lucky or dedicate a large amount of time to the hunt."

    "Yeah, I know."

    Before long, they came to the banks of Balon's Creek. Andrea intended to follow the trail back to the entrance of the park and catch something on the way, but Patrick stopped her before she reached the halfway point of the bridge.

    "Before we go any further," he started, motioning towards the thick growth beside the stream. "I think we should explore up this way. You'll like what you see."

    She raised her eyebrow at his suggestion. "Do you, now? What's up there?"

    "I don't want to ruin the surprise!"

    He took off without explaining further, prompting her to rush and follow him. She wondered what he could possibly want to show her. Mundane things entered her mind first: a particularly interesting tree, perhaps, or maybe an interesting cliff formation. Maybe an old abandoned cabin, ravaged by time yet still standing against the forces of nature. The more interesting yet unlikely probability is that further upriver was where he saw the Chikorita during his previous visit to Balmore. She debated whether to question him on it, but realized there wasn't much point; she knew him to be secretive about his 'surprises' and stubbornly dismissive when it came to her cautious nature.

    "I wonder... Could this be a trust exercise? He knows I don't really trust him... and once we're far away enough from the trail, it'd be the perfect opportunity for him to make a move on me..."

    She clenched her hand into a fist, ready to use it if she must.

    "Ugh, these stupid rumors and warnings... I wish I never heard them! And if he wants to build trust, there's better ways to do it. This is the last time you'll follow him anywhere suspicious, Andrea! After this, you're going to have to start standing your ground!"

    Just like the path into the forest, an impromptu one appeared to have been created beside the creek by explorers; the grass wasn't as tall and a narrow trail guided them along as they headed upstream. In short order, they found an expansive clearing amidst the cliffs, and the source of Balon's Creek: a twenty foot tall, two tiered waterfall that trickled over the stone walls into an expansive and deep pool. Beside the pool was a burnt out fire pit that was surrounded by several tree stumps, polished from years of use as makeshift chairs. Unfortunately, to their dismay, discarded trash was scattered about, tarnishing what could have been a picturesque view.

    "So this is what you dragged me up here for?" Andrea said, feigning outrage. She grinned as a look of worry appeared on his face. "Thanks for bringing me up this way. It's a nice place for a rest, my legs are killing me..." She approached one of the stumps and sat down on it, taking in a view of the waterfall.

    He joined her on his own stump. "So... having a better day than you were yesterday?"

    She let out a contented sigh. "Yeah. Much better. What a mess I was. Well, I still am, actually, only one of my problems has really been solved..."

    "You're not a mess, you're just facing the realities of life. Sounds like they pampered you in that university."

    "They kinda did, but I also had a better grip on things back then... The winter break between my fourth and fifth year... it was rough."

    "I must admit, I have been curious about that... You've been playing that card pretty close --"

    "Shh, shh! Patrick, quiet!" she whispered. She pointed towards the tree that rose from the banks of Balon's Creek. "Look over there, you see it?"

    Patrick turned around and scanned the tree, but couldn't see anything. "Where at?"

    "About halfway up, more towards the left... It's a little black Sentret."

    "Black Sentret?" he asked, finally spotting it perched upon its branch. "Huh... They're not supposed to have black fur... Could be a genetic mutation."

    "Yeah... Brown, blonde and red, but black?" she added.

    The Sentret sprung off of its tail and extended its stubby, parachute-like arms. With grace, it glided across the river and dropped to the ground just a few feet away from them. It 'roared' at them in an attempt at intimidation, but that roar was little more than a cute outburst that only furthered their curiosity.

    The two were granted a closer look at the creature and quickly noticed its most prominent feature; whereas most Sentret have a simple ring of tan fur on their chest and belly, this one had a pattern that resembled a human skull, complete with cracks in the cranium and a missing fang. Its lengthy tail came to a point and was covered in grey stripes, similar to the ones on Andrea's battered stockings and the sleeves of today's dress. One final feature that differentiated this Sentret from others was that its left ear draped over its face, but it was impossible to tell if this was a defining feature or merely an injury.

    She immediately saw herself in that Sentret. "Oh my god, look at the patterns in its fur! It's perfect for me!" she gushed. "I know I said that they were boring, but we have to try to catch this one!"

    Patrick reached into his left pocket and grabbed three Pokéballs, then handed them to Andrea. "Hold onto these, you'll need them." He reached into his right pocket and retrieved a fourth Pokéball, then tossed it into the air. With a flash of roaring fire, the ball exploded and unleashed his faithful Flareon, Fang, into the clearing beside them. "Been a couple weeks since we've gotten some practice in, hasn't it, Fang?"

    Fang dropped to the ground and growled as his eyes met the Sentret's.

    "Get ready, Andrea. This'll be over quick. Fang! Flamethrower!"

    Fang took in a deep breathe and readied himself for a gout of burning fire breath...

    "No, you idiot!" Andrea shouted. "We're in a forest!"

    ...and exhaled softly on her command.

    "Heh, good call! Last thing I need is a prison sentence for burning down Balmore. She's right, Fang, physical attacks only! Let's go, charge in for a body slam!"

    Fang lowered himself and burst forward. As he closed in on the Sentret, it hopped up into the air and balanced on its tail. It raised its left paw as if it were getting ready to wind up a punch; dark, spiny tendrils stretched from the fingers on its paw, each shimmering with a purple shine as they caught the sunlight. With a quick swing, the Sentret brought the claws down with a trail of black smoke. Fang was quick enough to dodge a majority of the attack, by the very tips of the tendrils raked across his right shoulder. In dodging, he lost the full power behind his attack and instead opted to sweep the Sentret off of its tail.

    "The fuck was that?!" Patrick shouted. "Be careful, Fang, this might be tougher than I thought."

    "Wow..." Andrea marvelled. "Hell yes... we've just gotta capture this thing..."

    "Fang! Blind it with smoke!" Patrick ordered.

    Once again, he took in a deep breath, and as he did so, the inside of his mouth glowed with a bright orange light. With a deep exhale, thick black smoke billowed into the clearing and swirled around the Sentret. With his opponent blinded, he dashed into the smoke; a flash of orange ripped through the black cloud, followed by the hissing roar of blazing flames. The Sentret burst out of the cloud of smoke, smoldering as it limped along, in an attempt to make its escape.

    Andrea's knuckles turned white as she grasped one of the Pokéballs tightly. Certain that the Sentret was trying to escape rather than put some distance between itself and Fang, she brought the ball to her chest and spread her feet. She followed the Sentret's movements closely, seizing the opportunity when it leapt into the air to glide away; with a wind up, she tossed the Pokéball. The ball narrowly missed the trunk of an oak tree as it curved through the air and impacted the Sentret on its left shoulder. A bright flash of light radiated across the clearing as the Sentret was sucked into the ball.

    "Holy shit! What a throw!" Patrick cheered.

    She was proud that she managed to land such a difficult throw, but her heart sank when she realized she couldn't see where the Pokéball had dropped to. "Help me find it!"

    The two searched high and low for the Pokéball: under the grass, atop the rocks, in the mud and around the stream. Eventually they found it about a dozen meters downstream, snagged between some rocks.

    She grabbed it and held it aloft. "Did... Did I catch it?"

    "Sure did! Pokéballs typically shatter on a failed capture. I'm just surprised you hit it, I was honestly expecting you to miss, big time."

    "What, were you hoping to get a laugh out of it?"

    He shook his head. "No, no! It's just... everyone misses their first throw."

    "Don't forget, I was the star pitcher for my high school's softball team. Got a scholarship out of it and everything."

    "Right..."

    She held the Pokéball up in front of her and studied it closely. She saw her smile in its reflection; a smile out of herself was something she rarely saw, and she couldn't remember the last time she did. She tossed the glittering Pokéball into the air and watched it burst open with a flash of violet electricity.

    The Sentret dropped to the floor and looked around, then expelled a bit of black smoke with a light cough.

    She dropped to one knee and greeted her new Sentret. "Hey there, little guy!" She stretched her arms out and motioned for him to step closer. "Come here!" The Sentret cautiously approached before climbing into her hands; she brought him closer to her chest and hugged him.

    The Sentret looked up at his new master and gently extended his paw forward. He rested his fingers on her face and made a soft cooing sound.

    "Sorry for scaring you like that, but you're in good hands now! I promise, I'll do everything I can to protect you if you do the same for me!"

    Patrick smiled as he watched the two interact with each other. "Andrea... The way you're treating that thing... You look like a loving mother. I think you'd be a good one."

    The joy on her face disappeared as she glared at him. "Don't say that, please."

    "Well, it's true."

    "Don't," she adamantly stated. "I appreciate the compliment, but I don't want to hear it."

    "Hmm, yeah. I guess it is a little early for you to be thinking about that. I understand."

    "Patrick!" she roared. "You don't understand. Don't even try to act like you do."

    He felt blind sided by her cutting commentary. "Okay. Touchy subject, noted. I'll drop it."

    "Thank you." She stood up and raised her Sentret above her head, then let him rest on her shoulders. "Well! I'd say that today was a success. What do you say we head home?"

    "Time to celebrate! Pizza sound good?"

    "It does!" She reached up and patted her new fuzzy friend. "Hope you like garlic, little guy!"
     
    Last edited:
    • Andrea's Memory: Back from the Brink
    • Land of the Roses
    Memory: Back from the Brink    ​

    Written with input and insight from @Caitlin​

    He never loved you...

    I awoke with a splitting headache. I couldn't tell which was spinning, myself or the room? My ears were ringing, and it was the loudest noise I'd ever heard. My eyes were burning, my blurred vision pulsing with every detestable heartbeat.

    You were just his play thing, you stupid slut...

    I pushed myself over onto my stomach and nearly emptied the contents of it all over the floor. As I looked around, I saw them. The empty bottles of beer that I retreated to for comfort. They were just like me... empty as my soul, and just as useless now.

    He will not be the last to betray you...

    I'd only just woken up and I was already out of energy. I flopped onto my back, ready to escape it all by falling asleep again. I could tell that it wasn't going to happen, though. The headache, the nausea, the burning pain in my eyes and ears, they all worked together to keep me awake, to keep me focused on the thoughts that tormented me.

    You will never have what you most desire...

    I reached around aimlessly, blindly, sending bottles rolling and spinning across the room as I frantically searched for my phone. I didn't know if I would find it, but if I was on the floor with the rest of the trash, like the trash that I was, surely that would be as well. Eventually I did find it, and I held it above me. I turned it on and strained my eyes to make out the blurred shapes on the screen: 5:13 PM.

    You will never amount to anything...

    What a depressing thought, waking up that late, in the shape that I did. Just a month ago, I was in university, ready to tackle the fifth year of my biology studies. Despite my losses, the destruction of my life and everything I held dear... I still carried on. I wished that I had that optimism back, even if it was ultimately foolish.

    All of your hard work was meaningless...

    I thought I could carry on with my life when I returned to university. I didn't know it, but I was still burning from my loss. I just put on a pretty face; that's what I'd been taught to do when life got me down. Just accept it, bad things happen to good people. Move on, because that's what the world does.

    You are weak... worthless...

    I tried it, but it didn't work. I couldn't keep it up despite my best efforts, and one day I just broke down. I still remember what triggered it... As part of my studies, I was observing the family structure of the Teddiursa line. Mother and father, brought together by the creation and care of a new life. They couldn't speak with us, and I was never any good at reading Pokémon communication, but... I could see the happiness in their eyes. The same happiness that I once had in mine.

    Happiness is an illusion... a trick...

    In the middle of the lab, with my fellow researchers around me, that's when it finally hit home: My fiancé... my new family... my job... my hopes, my dreams... They were gone. They were gone because of me. My actions and grief drove my fiancé away, and with him, the rest followed. I went to bed that afternoon with a heavy heart... and then practically never left it over the next few weeks.

    You think you deserve happiness, but you do not...

    That was the fire that was burning me up. I thought I had moved on, but I clearly didn't. I thought that I was ready to carry on with my life, but I clearly wasn't. Even now, I don't think I'm ready to move on.

    Give in to your sorrow...

    I raised my hand toward the ceiling, reaching out for the strength that I needed. I noticed a bandage wrapped around my palm and the base of my fingers, covered in faint blood stains around my knuckles. I don't quite remember, but I must have done it again... I'd developed a nasty habit over the past couple of weeks of letting out my frustration on my bedroom wall, beating my hands bloody without a care in the world for what damage I was doing. The fact that both of my hands were wrapped in bandages told me... someone cared, even when I'd given up.

    "Andrea?" a voice called from behind my bedroom door. "Are you awake in there?"

    That voice belonged to the only person in the world who was too stubborn to give up on me. A couple weeks ago, the day I had been expelled from university, he came to me with an offer and a promise. A promise he delivered so happily and selflessly, without question, without realizing how much of a burden I would become on him:

    "Stay with me for awhile. I'll look after you, get you back on your feet."

    Just thinking about those words brought more tears to my eyes. Over the past few weeks, only one thing in my life was a constant: the doubts that clawed at my mind, the whispers that told me nobody ever loved me and that I was destined to die alone. But they were wrong, someone really did care. Someone who had no family or romantic attachment to me. Just a good soul in a sea of darkness.

    "Webster..." I weakly called out.

    The door to my room slowly opened and he walked in. Just like the pair of Ursarings from my university studies, I saw the emotion in his eyes. It wasn't happiness, though, it was sorrow... Not like mine, no. His sorrow was that he had allowed me to give up on myself. Allowed me to fall even further. I couldn't stand to see it. I wanted to tell him not to blame himself for my condition, as it wasn't his fault. His best efforts were no match for my self-destructive behavior, my desire to fall into the abyss and let it claim me.

    "How you feeling?"

    Truthfully, I didn't know. I was torn between the routine of loathing myself, my situation and the world in general, and finally escaping this torment. I didn't have an answer for him, so I kept quiet.

    "C'mon, let's get you dressed." He reached down and scooped his arm under my shoulders, then sat me upright. As he did so, it dawned on me why he said that: most of my clothes appeared to have fallen off when I blacked out last night... or this morning. I'm afraid to admit that I'm honestly not sure when I passed out.

    I'd known Webster for years. He was the one who originally taught me about university life and he made sure that I wasn't lost when I moved to Aughrim. In the absence of my father's guidance, he filled in. That moment, when I was half naked and vulnerable, he easily could have taken advantage of that, but didn't... that was when I finally knew that I could trust him with anything. That was when I was ready to accept his help.

    "I..." I sputtered as I sat down on my bed. He draped my blanket over my shoulders to cover me up. "I need help... I... I c-can't... keep... can't keep doing this..."

    He pulled me in for a hug. In all the time that we'd known each other, it was the first time he ever did that, and it was the first time since December that I felt as if things were actually going to be okay. I'd made a big leap by asking for help, but there was still a long road ahead.

    "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."

    I choked up. Someone cared.

    "Feeling any better today, then?"

    I really didn't, but I thought that if I said I did, I might finally escape this hell. I nodded. "A little..."

    "Enough to wear your favorite dress today?"

    I didn't see what difference it would make. Whether I wore my favorite dress, some of his own loose fitting clothes, continued with my blanket cloak or exposed myself entirely, it didn't matter to me. My physical state of being wasn't the important thing, it was my mind that I was more concerned with. It appeared that he made the decision for me, as he let me go and hopped off the bed, then opened my dresser.

    I sighed as I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it tightly around me. "It's just not fair... I lost everything..."

    "Not everything," he said as he cautiously searched through my clothes.

    "Everything," I insisted. "And I still don't know why."

    "You've been telling me that it's because you lashed out at Toby when he tried helping you. Don't think that's the case anymore?"

    "No..." I whispered. "It's not that. I'm talking about what initially started it all."

    "Oh..." he responded. I could sense it as he tightened up and his attention drifted away from my dresser. He didn't know. I didn't expect him to have an answer, but it was a question that I needed to ask. In fact... it was the first time I had acknowledged it.

    A couple months ago, in December... just a week before the Day of Lovers' Remembrance, in fact... Things were actually looking up in my life. I was cruising through my university studies with good grades. I had a decent paying job, even if it wasn't the most glamorous, and I was able to balance it properly with my studies. I was in love with the most wonderful man in the world and engaged to be married to him. And the thing that bound us together the most, more than even our love for each other did... we were just a few months away from welcoming a child into the world together.

    I couldn't figure out why, but I felt a little uneasy as the winter break kicked into full swing. I was given time off from my job to visit family back in Goldwheat. Toby boarded a flight to return home to Asperia to visit his own. One by one, friends went home for the holiday until I was practically the only one still at the University of Aughrim Student Housing Complex. It was so quiet, and I was so alone...

    That's when the happiness faded from my life. In an instant, I knew why I felt so uneasy... Sharp, cutting pain in my abdominals, followed by a lot of blood; it had happened some time in the past few days without me realizing it, and by the time I did, it was too late to do anything... my child... it was gone. I miscarried.

    To this day, I still don't know why.

    "That's... that's just nature, isn't it?" he asked as he pulled my favorite dress from the top drawer. "It happens. It wasn't your fault."

    "How do you know that?"

    "I don't. But I do know you. You do well at taking care of yourself... Or at least you used to." He offered the dress to me and knelt down beside me. "I don't want to push you, but I do want to see you get back on the horse. You're a wonderful person full of potential, full of passion and full of energy who has worked so hard to get where she is. It'd be a terrible shame to throw all of that away. When you're ready, I'll be by your side to guide you."

    Damn it, more tears were starting to form. He cares, and he believes...

    I grabbed ahold of him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you so much for believing in me..." I whimpered. "It's been so long since I heard that from anybody... Toby included..."

    "People need to tell you the truth more often, even if they think it's stupid to say it," he said softly.

    "I'm ready... I want to get on with my life... I... I can do this."

    No... don't listen... he lies...

    "I will do this!"

    That was the day that the light came back into my life. The day that sparked the fire inside me. The day that I no longer heard those horrible whispers taunt me.

    The day that I had hope.
     
    • Interlude 5: Wiltstep
    • Land of the Roses
    Interlude 5: Wiltstep    ​

    For some reason or another, people consider roses beautiful. They are weeds to me. I will not rest until every last one is crushed under my heel.​
    ~ Lord Raeghan Doran​

    - - - - -​

    Somewhere outside the village limits of Redfern Crossing
    May 24th

    The snap of a hair tie echoed in the room as a young teenage girl divvied her wavy red hair up into a pair of high pig tails. Shining ruby red gloss was applied to her lips delicately and expertly. She draped a bright white silk blouse over her shoulders next, buttoning it up to the collar, then went through the painstaking process of tying a pink ribbon bow around her neck line. A pleated plaid skirt, decorated with hues of black, gold and white, went on after, as did a pair of white knee socks. Heeled black leather formal shoes finished off her appearance before she looked at herself in the mirror.

    "Yes... yes... No! Nearly forgot!" she said. Lastly, she applied a green contact lens to each of her eyes, to cover up her naturally red irises. "How do I look, mother?"

    An older woman, who had been reading from a newspaper on the other side of the room, looked up at her. "I'm not comfortable being called that, Glyllin. You're older than me."

    "If this is going to work, Maphesia, you're going to need to be comfortable with it."

    Maphesia grumbled angrily. "Very well, daughter. If you'd like my honest opinion, I think you look ridiculous. I don't see how the next step of the plan hinges on that appearance of yours. You very well could have signed up as a 25 year old woman rather than a 15 year old girl."

    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?"

    Glyllin sighed and walked over to the window. "Always so difficult, mother." she sadistically said as she grabbed a potted plant that looked as if it were dying. "You'll be interested to know something. Remember that girl you met a couple days ago? The one who sent you flying across your kitchen before she ran off to save your next sacrifice?"

    Maphesia rolled her eyes upon being reminded of that embarrassing defeat. "Yes. I do. Andrea was her name, if I recall?"

    She placed the potted plant into a small cardboard box and returned to the window for another one. "Yes, Andrea Dennison. Edgar informed me that her mother will be a judge of this horticultural show. Her father as well."

    Maphesia's eyes widened and a crooked grin crept across her face. "Really? Well, that's fortuitous..."

    "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."

    "Mmm."

    She clapped her hands together furiously. "However! None of this will unfold if we're late for the show! Help me pack my display up, please."

    - - - - -​

    "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce the patron of this horticulture show! Please, give a round of applause for Lord Edgar Alben VIII!"

    Applause echoed throughout the convention hall as an elderly man approached the podium at the center of the stage. His gait carried with it a vibe of regal grace that the people of the country had come to know him by. He was among the most powerful and wealthiest men to sit on Lanark's parliament, and certainly the most secretive; the people knew of him, but few knew about him, other than he rarely made public appearances and was typically locked away in closed door meetings when he attended his parliamentary duties.

    He cleared his throat and nodded to the attendees. "Thank you. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending the 72nd annual Redfern Regal Horticulture and Garden Show! It is my great honor to welcome these young faces, bright minds and garden lovers to another year of competition. I see we have many returning veterans, but we also have many newcomers. Regardless of experience, I hope that all who compete today enjoy the time spent and the company of your fellow enthusiasts. Our judging panel will consist of five individuals, they are... ahh... ha ha, pardon my failing eyesight!"

    He raised a paper to his eyes and squinted.

    "Dr. Meredith Dennison, Officer Marvin Dennison, Sir Gavin Cummings, Sir William Hargrave and my good friend Rajid Awaz. If you are competing in the show, please keep an eye out for them so that this process can be done in a timely manner! With all of that said, enjoy the show!"

    - - - - -​

    The convention hall was packed with contestants ready to take the grand prize of the Redfern Regal; 33 had registered to compete and all had attended, filling the room with flowers, shrubs, trees and even well-groomed plant-based Pokémon. Enthusiasm was high, as the overall winner of the event would take home a generous total of 150 golden roses, a prize funded by the enigmatic Lord Alben himself. Before it had even begun, the event was a success: the hall was packed with guests and tourists from all over the world.

    "I dunno about this, Mer... Lotta people out there..." Marvin said nervously as he adjusted his tie. "I feel like I need to switch into cop mode, keep an eye on the people more than the plants. This is the perfect opportunity --"

    Meredith was touching up her own appearance with the aide of a pocket mirror. "Please don't. It's your rare day off, and you agreed to be a judge. Can you not focus on work for once?"

    "Hey, not fair! I've been doing a lot of that since you've been gone!" he pleaded. "I'll try, but... I'm starting to think that volunteering to fill in for Mr. Barone wasn't the wisest idea. I'm the only one on this judging panel who has no experience with gardening."

    "But it was your idea."

    "Yeah, I know..."

    She playfully bumped into him. "Just follow me, I'll guide you through this. I'll prompt you with questions and stuff so you know what to look for, sound good?"

    He smiled. "I'd be lost without you."

    She offered him a heartfelt smile. "That's how you started our wedding vows..."

    He nodded with a happy grin on his face.

    She lifted up the paper on her judging clipboard and started to mumble the words written on it. "Let's see... the first contestant we'll be judging is... Glyllin Williams! What a fun name to say!"

    He raised his eyebrow. "Glyllin? The fuck? I'll never understand the weird names the people in this country give their kids..."

    "Hey! How long have we lived here now? Close to eighteen years? This country is our home, for better or for worse. I'd have thought you would have stopped being snippy about the culture by now."

    "I have!" he playfully protested. "Just... Glyllin... What an odd name."

    She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Get it out before we approach her, then. She's just a child."

    "I'm good. Lead the way."

    They approached the table that hosted the young red haired Glyllin, no older than 15 years old by both of their estimations, her youthful-looking blonde mother and her horticultural display. The display caught them off guard; rather than rely heavily on a rose motif as most other tables around the room did, Glyllin's featured sickly looking flowers, a leafless shrub, several speckled mushrooms and clumps of moss.

    "Hello!" Meredith energetically said as she stopped by the table. "What an... interesting display!"

    Glyllin curtsied graciously. "Thank you, ma'am."

    "Hey look, they're here already..." Maphesia whispered into Glyllin's ear. She greeted the two warmly, "Marvin and Meredith Dennison, I presume?"

    "That's us!" Meredith nodded as she looked over her information sheet. "What's your name, by the way? You're not listed alongside your daughter here."

    "Maphesia," the woman answered. "I've been looking forward to meeting you since I learned that you would be judging this event."

    "Oh? Me? I should be honored, but--"

    "My mother and I have been reading your magazine articles, ma'am," Glyllin added. "You've been a big inspiration for us, me especially. In fact, the inspiration is what brought me here, kind of!"

    Meredith blushed. "Oh! Well, thank you! I never thought I'd be an inspiration to anybody! So, what can you tell me about your display, then? It's very unique when I compare it with the rest of them."

    "I'd be interested to hear about it, too," Marvin added. "I'm new to this flower stuff, but I have to be honest... these look like they're dying."

    "Yes, that is intentional, sir," Glyllin stated. "I wanted my display to show the overlooked part of the cycle of life: death. From mayflies -- which live for only a day -- to the Oak of Ages, every living thing eventually reaches this part of the cycle. Rich, poor, royal, noble or common... we all return to the earth, ready to be remade as the powers that be see fit."

    "So smart! Most kids your age don't think of it that way." Meredith commented. "Judging that might seem difficult, but with that in mind..." she knelt down and inspected the largest of the wilted flowers, sickly violet in color, before poking her husband in the hip. "In this case, we're looking at execution of a theme."

    "I don't think 'dead' is a theme we can fairly judge," Marvin said. "Isn't a dead flower the sign of a failed execution?"

    "Take composition into mind as well. Moss, fungi, the dried shrub, itself showing signs of lichen growth. It's obvious she's going for a theme and she didn't accidentally kill the flowers."

    He leaned in for a closer look, trying his hardest to look interested and studious. "Hmm. Good point."

    Meredith began to pen some notes down. "Even then... This is a Grovewood Violet, which are notoriously difficult to keep alive in this country due to its extremely sensitive climate, sunlight, water and soil acidity needs. The fact that Glyllin was able to keep it alive long enough for it to grow to this size shows her skill with caring for plants. We can take that into account, too."

    He whispered, "I told you I was lost, there's so much more to this than I realized..."

    "It's fine! Just note your numbers down as we go along," she returned. Her attention shifted to the mushrooms next; they each were contained in an individual pot and were arranged in a circular pattern surrounding the dead shrub, gently shifting between their red and yellow hues in an orderly manner. "These are fly agaric, Marvin, a very commonly depicted form of mushroom."

    "Yeah, I've seen 'em around. They grow in the back yard sometimes."

    "They're flat like pancakes," she explained, "...indicative of their age. These are older specimens, and they look very healthy. Not only is Glyllin good with flowers, she's good with mushrooms, too. Very talented!"

    Marvin listed some numbers down on his scoring sheet. "How about the moss? Anything special about that? I wanna say this is older stuff, too, it's got these little sticks coming out of it."

    "Yes! Those stalks are the spore pods, and it looks as if most of them have already opened. In keeping with the theme, this specimen is also nearing the end of its life cycle."

    Glyllin openly whispered to Maphesia, her voice masked by the dull roar of the convention hall, "This lady is very passionate about her plants..."

    "She's Doctor Dennison. Guess she must be a botanist or something." Maphesia added. "Do you think she'll like the grand finale?"

    "I doubt it." Glyllin grinned. "But let's do it."

    "-- think that wraps it up, doesn't it Marv?" Meredith concluded.

    He nodded sagely, noting down a few last numbers. "Yeah, I'd say so."

    "Ah!" Glyllin chirped. "Before you give your final score, I need to show off the main attraction!"

    Both watched as Glyllin buried her hand into her purse and dug around for a bit before retrieving a small leatherbound satchel. She pried the satchel open, accidentally spilling a small amount of ochre-colored powder onto the table. Pinching some between her fingers, she gently sprinkled it over the largest of the mushrooms on display. Soon after, the mushroom began to shudder lightly before the stem started to slowly grow taller.

    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."

    A look of worry crossed Glyllin's face as the mushroom continued to balloon in size. The flattened cap began to resemble a glass-like bubble before it popped loudly and suddenly, spraying a foul smelling brown goo in a wide arc; the goo went everywhere, coming to a rest on a nearby contestant's table, the carpeted floor and Meredith's face.

    "Oh! Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" she burst out. "I-I must have used too much..."

    Meredith poked at the goo on her face with her finger, then reached into her pocket for a handkerchief and began to wipe it away. "It's okay, it's not the end of the world."

    "That's going to kill my score, isn't it..." she whimpered.

    "Fortunately, assaulting the judges isn't part of the scoring criteria!" Meredith joked. "I won't count it against you, but I also can't count that as part of your display either, unfortunately."

    "Oooh..." Maphesia groaned. "An expensive waste... But understandable."

    "Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I must say, I'm very impressed! How much of this did you do on your own? Did your mother here help you at all?"

    Glyllin curtsied graciously. "I did most of it on my own."

    "The only part I played in this display was to help procure the Bulbasaur miracle pollen," Maphesia chimed in.

    Meredith smiled. "Well, you're a very talented young lady, I say! I think, if you pushed hard at it, you could be an important name within the field of botany or mycology some day! Or maybe open a garden center and manage a greenhouse!"

    Glyllin turned towards her 'mother' and gripped her tightly in a hug. "Did you hear that, mother? I could be important some day!"

    There was a look of painful discomfort on Maphesia's face, but she tried to cover it with a smile. "But you already are! You've done great work today."

    "Well, good luck in the show," Meredith said. "And please, Glyllin, keep working on this. It'd be a shame for such natural skill to be wasted."

    "Thank you! I will!"

    The pair left the table and moved towards the next contestant. As they did so, Meredith looked back at Glyllin and Maphesia with a smile on her face. "Did you see that? That's the type of relationship I miss having with our daughter. So much love and respect."

    He grimaced and shook his head. "I don't mean to be a stick in the mud, but... Andrea's older now, and you two disagree on a lot. It's certainly possible, but it's going to hinge on her more than you. She's still hurt by your decision to move out of the country, even if she understands now why you did it."

    She sighed. "Yes, I understand... But I also think that we can reconcile. You told me that her mood improved since she got that job at the Reiland Institute, right?"

    He tilted his head slightly, nodding as he did so. "I'd say so, yeah."

    "We should go visit her! Loch Alstan isn't far from here, is it?

    "I'll have to put in another day off from work, but that sounds like an excellent idea!"

    "It's settled, then."

    He put his finger up in the air. "Not yet. We still have to decide if it's a surprise visit or not, and I don't think she'd be too happy with one. Hell, she hasn't even given me her new address yet."

    "We'll call her, first, then. I want to do this right."
     
    • Chapter 34: Cracks in the Stone
    • 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​

    b4vWsr6.png

    "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..."
     
    • Chapter 35: Guiding Light
    • 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​

    b4vWsr6.png

    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."
     
    • Kimberly's Memory: Fame is a Treacherous Beast
    • 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...
     
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    • Chapter 36: A Time of Opportunity
    • 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​

    yG496rE.png

    "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."
     
    • Chapter 37: Dress to Impress
    • Author's note: It's time for another boring fashion chapter! My sincerest apologies. :p

    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​

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    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."
     
    • Interlude 6: Andrea Dennison, Junior Marine Biologist
    • 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​

    MNNachO.png

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

    1Wyvakh.png

    "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
     
    Last edited:
    • Short: Afternoon At The Museum [skip friendly!]
    • Author's note: If you read Chapter 38 before this was published, not much is new here; this is simply the museum scene cut out of that chapter (in an effort to bring down its length) and brought into its own short. Additionally, a few edits have been made to Chapter 38 to fix some issues that have been brought up.

    If you're uninterested in the history of Lanark or the Eckhardt family, this short is safely skippable.

    Land of the Roses
    Short: Afternoon At The Museum    ​

    "There it is," Andrea pointed out as they reached the bottom of the escalator. "'The Kingdom of Steel History Museum,' sponsored by the Eckhardt Foundation. It caught my attention as we were coming up. Wanna have a look?"

    Patrick looked through the large doorway and could see a group of children congregating within. "Looks like a lot of kids in there..."

    She chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of kids! Must be a school field trip. C'mon, let's go learn with them!"

    "I'm not afraid of kids!" he protested, before tailing her. "I just don't like them."

    They took one step into the museum and quickly got the feeling that the learning experience would be tainted with the Eckhardts' self-aggrandizement; in the center of the room was a gleaming steel sculpture that depicted an ancestor of the family, Albert Eckhardt I. The statue depicted him almost like a biblical figure, complete with hands aflame and a flowing, kingly beard. At the base of the statue was a plaque that named the work: Albert I, Father of the Kingdom's Forge.

    Without comment, they moved onto a scale model of 19th century Steelport, a city that was about a tenth of its current size in those days. A plaque beside the display read:

    The city of Steelport is not just the most important city in the kingdom of Lanark, but perhaps the most important in the world. It is here where the world left behind the primitive shackles of our ancestors and forged a new path for mankind. Industry grew and developed a heartbeat of its own, one that was no longer dictated by the labor of men, but accelerated by the rhythm of machine.

    "This is where the Industrial Revolution was born..." Andrea mused softly. "Pretty much everything we rely on today started in this city. Industry, internal combustion, the electronics revolution... Ugh, I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it!"

    "That kinda stuff is interesting to you, isn't it? On your resume, I think I recall seeing that you took a couple courses in mechanical engineering while at university, right?"

    "Mhmm!" she happily hummed. "That was my backup plan in case my major in biology didn't work out for me. If I ever go back to university for my doctorate, I might pick it up again."

    "Careful not to bite off too much, now," he warned.

    "Trust me, I know."

    The two moved from the model of the city towards a marble statue that depicted an unkempt and haggard man on his knees, hands clasped together, groveling at the feet of an immaculately beautiful woman in flowing robes. Beneath the statue was another plaque:

    At the center of all of that was Eckhardt Steel. Finding its roots in the 1380s, Eckhardt Steel started with a single man and his forge in the village of Doranshire. It was there that our revered ancestor, John of Eckhardt Field, was sponsored by a local noblewoman to produce arms and armor for the brave men of the Trackers' Guild, as well as the knights who served under the Lords of Ardaigh. It is said that this woman is who taught him the art of creating 'dark iron' -- known today as steel -- and that the two worked together to build his reputation and hone his skills as a blacksmith. Unfortunately, despite searching through all manner of records, we have not been able to accurately determine the identity of the woman who helped build our foundation.

    With time, the legend of John's quality dark iron blacksmithing grew. During Lanark's early territorial expansion in which it annexed the Thornwall Isles, brought the wealthy merchant city-state of Visalia under its protection, conquered the neighboring Kingdom of Constantia and and acquired Asperia as its vassal, the armies fielded by the Lords of Ardaigh were unmatched on the battlefield, and their reputations were as legendary as John's. Requests for his arms and armor flooded in from lands as far away as Kanetsk and Kalos, but he was just a simple blacksmith in a poor rural village. Encouraged by his benefactor, he took a gamble and moved his business to the growing trading hub known as Stàilinchala, which later came to be known as Steelport.

    "Huh... wonder who this lady was," Andrea commented, gazing up at the statue. The face looked vaguely familiar to her, reminding her somewhat of the 'hunter' that she and Kimberly met in the forest north of Doranshire. "Whoever she was, she sounds pretty important."

    Patrick shrugged. "I'm surprised. Outside of Queen Rosemary, women didn't... really have any impact on society in those days, right? Maybe that's why they don't know her name."

    "Or these assholes decided to scrub her name from the books, because they can't allow women to be important, or role models."

    The pair moved onto the next piece on display, a sculpture that romanticized the process of creating steel, in which a shirtless and physically toned worker could be seen pouring molten metal out of a large cauldron and onto a casting table.

    Supplied by the bountiful iron mines of Rustlode, fueled by the forests of the now-treeless Heartland, and assisted by nearly a hundred laborers -- paid for in full by his benefactor -- John's business exploded in the final five years of his life. His son, Albert, took over the business with little difficulty, but the demand for dark iron continued to outpace his production capabilities.

    Albert looked to his father's benefactor for an answer to his troubles, and she recommended he speak with another associate of hers, a friar who studied the composition and natural processes of the earth at the University of Aughrim. The friar -- also unnamed in our records -- encouraged Albert to seek his answers in the depths of the earth, where air becomes flame and stone becomes liquid. The exact methods for harnessing the power of the fiery depths is a closely guarded industry secret, but these new methods and sources of energy allowed Albert to quadruple production.

    With such a large boost to production and the riches that came with it, Albert purchased land from one of the local lords -- widely regarded as the first purchase of land by a commoner in Lanark's history -- and expanded his business. Albert's reputation had surpassed that of his father, and so King Andagel I granted him a royal charter in 1405; Eckhardt Steel had been officially founded.

    "That's... a little inaccurate," Andrea mentioned. "A friar at the University of Aughrim, before 1405? The university wasn't founded until the mid 1500s, I was told. Convenient that they don't have a name for this guy, since he probably didn't exist."

    "Really? Makes you wonder what else on these displays is bullshit."

    The two moved onto the next display, a scale model of the world's first ironclad naval vessel, the legendary HMS Purity.

    With the City of Steel at its back, Lanark's ambitions for the world grew even bolder. From this cauldron of steel and sweat, a vision of prosperity emerged: a world influenced by the greatest kingdom the world has ever known, tamed and brought to heel by the great men and women of our country. At the center of it all was the steel provided by our ancestors, and the growing industrial heart of the country that relied on Eckhardt Steel to function. Starting in the 1600s and carrying through the 1800s, this country abandoned the moniker of the Kingdom of Lanark and settled for the Lanark Empire.

    Colonies were established overseas on the continent of Atalacia, where our brave explorers and pioneers frequently clashed with the superstitious and barbaric natives. Expansive trade networks were established with the Far East in the continent of Yazhen, allowing Lanark to establish numerous spheres influence and bring the local populations into our fold. Saheldazi, a continent filled with eternally warring tribes of primitive savages, was ripe for exploitation of its riches, both material and cultural. But there was a limit to Lanark's power; focused on its lands in Atalacia and its holdings in Yazhen, Lanark's footprint in Saheldazi was relatively minor in comparison to our other imperial rivals. One critical exception was the South Horn and surrounding islands, which were key for protecting the merchant ships that sailed to the Far East.

    At its height during the Great War, the sun never set on the Lanark Empire. Holding sway over nearly 427 million people in territory that covered roughly 44 million square kilometers -- 33% of the world's land -- the Lanark Empire was the largest the world had ever seen. Through its great power, Lanark is widely regarded as responsible for the relatively peaceful 19th century, often brokering deals between local rivals and ending conflicts with the mere threat of involving itself. Over time, however, the stresses of modernization of these new territories saw a decline in the empire's power, and not even the steel that won the world was enough to keep it together. In the decades following the Great War, Lanark began to grant independence to its territories, and the empire was no more.

    "God damn, this one reads pretty badly," Patrick commented. "I've read wartime propaganda that was less openly racist than this."

    "Yeah... It's pretty sickening how they characterize the natives of Saheldazi and Atalacia as savages and barbarians just because they had different ideas of how to live their lives," Andrea said. "But... As awful as it all was, there's no denying that the world is a better and more stable place despite Lanark's... questionable historical policies."

    "Fair point... I just wonder if we could have gotten to this point with less of..." he paused, pointing at the plaque in front of them, specifically towards an image that depicted a mass execution by hanging in the Atalacian frontier. "You know. This."

    "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."

    "Agreed."

    "Anything else you want to look at while we're here, or should we finally check in at the hotel?"

    "I think we're done here."
     
    • Chapter 39: Reunited
    • And now, the proper Chapter 39!

    Land of the Roses
    Chapter 39: Reunited

    A good friend is like a good book -- they're rare and precious, a prize beyond measure. And trust me: don't ask for a summary, you'll miss the best parts.​
    ~ Jane Katz, A Librarian's Memoir​

    1Wyvakh.png

    "Ooh, nice, cozy and all to myself... Finally, some space away from Patrick." Andrea commented as she stepped into her hotel room. It was small, but it would suit her purposes just fine: a single bed, a small table, a sofa, a wall mounted television set and a bathroom complete with a tub that she could actually fit in for once. Even the decor was relaxing, even if it wasn't her style; the room's pale grey walls were painted with a smattering of darker geometric shapes; themed paintings that referenced sea travel hung from them; an obviously-fake tropical shrub rested in a pot in the corner. What caught her attention the most was the view offered from her window, a view of a large and expansive local park, nestled between the high rises.

    It wasn't all perfect, however. The bed's frame creaked loudly as she tossed her backpack onto it, and continued its annoying song as she jiggled it back and forth. The room was also quite chilly compared to the hallway, and upon further inspection, the thermostat appeared to be out of order. She checked to see if she could manually override the temperature settings on the heater itself and found that it didn't even have power running to it. The thought nagged at her, but the room was still comfortable despite the problems.

    She returned to the bed, opened her backpack and began to pull her spare clothes out of it. In a flash of motion, her gaudy yellow dress made its way to the floor and her favorite black and lavender minidress replaced it. Her white knee socks were tossed aside carelessly as they were pulled off, and her tattered striped stockings covered her pale legs. She decided to keep her new Mary Janes on, finding them more comfortable for casual wear than her old, beat up boots. She completed the look with her new sunhat, but lamented that her blonde hair stood out a little too much with it on.

    "Hmm... Rather than bleach it again, maybe I should go for black hair this time... Maybe even red? That could be wild." she commented to herself as she dropped her hat onto the bed and zipped her backpack up. "Wonder how soon I could get that done..."

    She sat down on the bed and looked at her R-Kit: 5:49 PM. The evening was quickly upon her and she realized she had nothing substantive planned. She figured that, since they were in a new city, Patrick would encourage her to join him in his exploration, but she'd already had her fill of him that day; with some shopping in the morning, a seven and a half hour train ride together and a couple shared meals along the way, she worried he'd start to feel like she was his girlfriend if she spent any more time with him. She needed something else to occupy her mind, something that involved him as little as possible.

    As she thought about how she'd spend her evening, she remembered: Kimberly! With all of the busy work that came with preparing for her meeting with Mr. Eckhardt and her upcoming assignment, it totally slipped her mind that she was meant to reach out and get in touch with her friend. She reached into her purse for her phone, and brought up her messenger app.

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:50 PM
    'hiiiii!'
    'super sorry for taking so long to let you know but im in the city'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 5:51 PM
    'Hooray! I was starting to worry that it had slipped your mind.'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:51 PM
    'partially true but mostly just been busy with work'
    'but i think im done now so did you wanna meet up for dinner maybe?'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 5:52 PM
    'That'd be lovely! Did you have anything in mind?'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:52 PM
    'heh i actually spotted one of your dads restaurants at eckhardt tower but i dunno'
    'i did some shopping this morning for work and unfortunately wiped out my savings'
    'doubt i could afford anything there : /'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 5:53 PM
    'I could pay! I don't mind! : )'​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:53 PM
    'dont feel like you need to i wanna be able to pay for my own meals for a change'
    'but that means somewhere cheap'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 5:55 PM
    'Back when we met in Aughrim, didn't you mention... what was it called, The Lair?'
    'I passed by one while I was exploring the city, and I'm curious to check it out if you don't mind?'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:56 PM
    'oh boy the lair'
    'i dont really like the food there but seeing your reaction should be more than worth it'    ​

    Fr: Kimberly Fairbrooke, 5:57 PM
    'hehe, it should be interesting!'
    'It's at the north terminus of King's Canal in a gorgeous little neighborhood. Shall we meet there soon?'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:57 PM
    'sure see ya soon!'​

    She laughed. "The Lair... This should be good." While she was having her back and forth with Kimberly, another message came in, and unsurprisingly, it was Patrick:

    Fr: Patrick Adelaide, 5:52 PM
    'Hey, all settled into your room yet?'
    'I was about to head out to dinner, you interested in joining me?'    ​

    She rolled her eyes at him suggesting they hang out -- exactly as she expected he would. Though she had no problems with him meeting Kimberly, she was still hesitant to bring him along and tried to wiggle her way out of it:

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 5:59 PM
    'ohhhhh sorry! im already on my way to dinner with someone myself'
    'and no boys allowed! girls night out with a friend whose in town'    ​

    Fr: Patrick Adelaide, 5:59 PM
    'Ha, okay! I'll see ya tomorrow then, bright and early!'
    'Remember, we're meeting Roy Eckhardt III at 8:30 AM.'    ​

    Fr: Andrea Dennison, 6:00 PM
    'right right'​

    - - - - -​

    In Andrea's mind, it couldn't have been a more perfect day in the King's Canal neighborhood; the air was cool, the skies were clear and the sun was shining through the thinning fog that had rolled in off the Caelton Sea. With every gust of wind, petals from the numerous and world-famous violet cherry blossoms drifted through the air, lightly tinting the area with a soft lavender light as the sun bounced off of them. It wasn't just the visuals that appealed to her, but the sounds as well: the enchanting songs of a flock of Wingull came from above, a Rapidash's hooves clattered against the brick road as it went by at medium trot, and the sound of violin music could be heard lilting across the promenade.

    It appeared to her as if some sort of festival was taking place. Decorations of green and white cloth drowned the neighborhood, a heavy police presence patrolled the area, and various market stalls had been erected along the promenade. Merchants within peddled all sorts of wares from homemade jewelry to 'fresh' fruit that had no doubt been shipped in from halfway across the country -- at least, based on her knowledge that agriculture was very uncommon along the southern coast. She kept feeling herself pulled towards the market stalls, particularly those that sold jewelry, but resisted the allure.

    At last, after having walked the promenade for what felt like half an hour, she finally found what she was looking for: Kimberly was leaning against a railing, with her attention focused on the various watercraft that clogged the canal below her. She sported a long and flowing pink sundress that showed off more skin than she typically did, which brought focus to her bony shoulders and gaunt-appearing upper chest.

    The unexpected sight quickly grabbed Andrea's attention, and she quietly muttered to herself, "Whoa, what the fuck happened to her? I never really paid attention before, has... she always looked that unhealthy?" Rather than dwell on it, she raised her arm and waved as she called out her friend's name.

    Kimberly turned around and her face lit up like a glastonfir tree. "Andrea!" She pushed herself off of the railing and bull rushed Andrea, colliding into her with enough force to nearly knock her over. "I'm so glad you're here!"

    "Hey, hey, easy! I missed you too, but if you squeeze me any harder, you're going to put me in intensive care."

    "Sorry, friend," Kimberly said, loosening her grip somewhat, but not letting go. "It's just... it's a been a stressful few days."

    "You've got that right," she added, prying herself out of Kimberly's weakened grip. "Man, feels kinda surreal that we're seeing each other again, doesn't it?"

    "Oh? You think so?"

    "Yeah... we're just two goofballs who met by chance, and now we're taking time out of our lives to see each other? Most people I meet just... kinda fade away entirely, and I never see them again."

    "That's the sad reality of life. But, here we are: just you and I, with an entire evening ahead of us."

    She looked around, but couldn't find The Lair anywhere. "Speaking of, where's the restaurant? I'm dreading to think that I might actually be hungry enough to stomach their food."

    A look of concern appeared on Kimberly's face as she turned her head away slightly. "It's not that bad, is it?"

    "Ha, nah. I just remember never being too impressed by it, that's all."

    "I see! The restaurant is just a few buildings up the road that way." Kimberly gently grabbed her by the wrist with both hands and tugged on her arm. "Shall we?"

    "Sure, lead the way," she said. "So, what is all this? A festival of some sort?"

    "Yes. I don't know much about it, but it's the second-to-last day of something called the Violet Blossom Festival."

    "A festival, huh? Too bad I'm working tomorrow, this could be interesting to check out."

    "That's a shame. I know I'll be coming back to see the sights myself!"

    "Maybe I can join you... I doubt I'll be stuck working for ten to twelve hours, unless we somehow have mountains of data to sift through after our first day."

    "If you get an opportunity to come along, please let me know! It'll be a lot more fun to see the sights together!"

    - - - - -​

    The inside of The Lair was a far different atmosphere from the idyllic scenery of King's Canal, and was split into two sections. The front half of the building was occupied by a dimly lit dance floor; excessively loud rave music echoed along the floor, and bright strobes of light flashed to the beat of the music. Laser patterns whirled around the room chaotically as the room vibrated with both the music and the energetic crowd of dancers. Kimberly felt a bit overwhelmed by the sights and the sounds, and grabbed onto Andrea for guidance; Andrea herself had seen it all countless times and quickly guided her friend towards the back half of the building, the restaurant.

    The restaurant section was surprisingly quiet compared to the thunder of the adjacent rave floor, shielded by a thick wall and the kitchen facilities. The lighting, much brighter than on the rave floor, was still lackluster but entirely appropriate; the design and decorations that adorned the restaurant portion reminded the two of a late 19th century funeral parlor that was hosting a gathering -- a noisy gathering: punk rock music blasted from the speaker system, threatening to drown out the noisy patrons.

    "So... This is..." Kimberly started, unsure of what to say. "It's... an interesting restaurant. Didn't you say you used to work here?"

    "At the one in Aughrim, yeah," Andrea answered, ready to burst into laughter at a moment's notice. "What do you think? Wild, isn't it?"

    "At least the music is quieter over here... But still noisy."

    "Ha, you should hear this place after sunset! The rave floor really kicks off and it gets deafening sometimes, people lose their minds! Best part is, when I was working as a waitress, we got to interact with the customers on the dance floor when things started to slow down. So many good memories, met some of my best friends on that floor..."

    "You sound like you don't miss that work."

    "I admit, it was easier and less stressful. Much more fun, too. I could see myself going back full time if this gig at the Reiland Institute doesn't work out, but I'm going to make sure it does."

    As they were chatting, Kimberly's face became more and more contorted by confusion as she browsed the menu. "What are these menu options?" she incredulously asked. "Demonic Ribs? Shadowgrass? Nightmare Stew?"

    "I'm sure you've noticed that there's a theme going on at this place. Every menu item has a name inspired by witchcraft, demonic lore and general darkness, but they're also described normally underneath. I think it's fun and really gives this place character!"

    She thought so as well, but it was hard to stop her brow from furrowing as she scanned the menu closely. "I should have asked this before we came, but are there vegetarian options available here?"

    Andrea nodded. "Uh-huh! I didn't forget that you're a vegetarian, and I wouldn't have suggested it if they didn't have stuff for you."

    "That's very thoughtful!"

    "Now, whether it tastes any good... that's up for debate. I might suggest the Fruit of the Forbidden Garden as a safe bet, it's hard to screw up a fruit salad."

    She flipped the page and found the Fruit of the Forbidden Garden: a fruit salad that combined numerous fruits such as apples, grapes and blueberries with an assortment of crunchy additions of banana chips and walnuts. She smiled, feeling that it was a great suggestion.

    The suggestion was just in time; a waitress approached their table with a bright smile on her face. The waitress' most obvious feature was her gothic theme; black hair, black makeup and black clothing -- relatively little clothing. Wearing only a sparkling sequined miniskirt, an undersized bikini top and knee high combat boots, her extensive array of tattoos was on full display. As she opened her mouth to greet them, they noticed the prosthetic vampire fangs that she was wearing.

    The waitress addressed Andrea first with a courteous bow. "Greetings, sister of the night!" She turned to Kimberly next. "And her lovely mortal companion. Welcome to The Lair! My name is Mandy, and I'll be your humble servant today. May we start this feast of feasts with some drinks?"

    "Sure, glass of Spider Venom, hold the ice," Andrea answered quickly.

    Kimberly seemed to be captivated by the waitress' skimpy clothing, and only snapped out of her trance upon seeing the waitress tilt her head and raise her eyebrow. "Oh! Umm..." she bumbled, retreating to the menu. "I'll have a small glass of... 'Sacrificial Offering'?"

    "It's yours," the waitress said, taking note of their requests. "Are you ready to order, or do you need a moment to look over the menu?"

    "I'm ready, are you?" Andrea asked. After a nod from Kimberly, she made her order, "I'll have the Spawn of Hellfire. No extra sides to go with it, I don't have a big appetite today."

    The waitress made note of it. "How spicy?"

    "Inferno."

    "Oh! Brave girl! And how about you, miss?" the waitress continued, turning to Kimberly.

    "Fruit of the Forbidden Garden, please," Kimberly answered.

    "Would you like anything on that? Cranberry sauce, raspberry vinaigrette?"

    "No thank you."

    "Very well! I will return with your drinks in a short moment." With that, the waitress turned around and went about her business.

    "She's not wearing a lot..." Kimberly mused as her eyes wandered around the room. "None of them are..."

    Andrea nodded. "Yeah... I had to dress like that when I worked here. It was a little intimidating at first."

    "I... It's awfully... nevermind, I should hold my tongue."

    "Go on! If you're going to say something bad about it, you may as well. I don't mind. I'd like to get in that head of yours and understand you better."

    Kimberly hesitated for a moment. "It's very exploitative, don't you think? It must be difficult to work in an environment where you're nothing but eye candy."

    A sly smile appeared on Andrea's face. "Well, once I got used to it, I didn't... not enjoy it myself, for what it's worth. I never saw it as degrading or exploitative of me. Hell, with the tips I tended to get, the customers were the ones being exploited. I paid off four and a half years of biology textbooks in just a year, and all I had to do was show off a little skin and flirt with people I was likely to never see again."

    "That's my point!" Kimberly took a sip of the freely provided water. "I don't know... Are you saying that so that you feel better about it, or do you actually believe that you weren't exploited?"

    "I actually do believe that."

    "I'm having trouble understanding it... but I admit, I do have numerous biases. I value self respect very highly and I just... don't see that in any of these girls."

    "It's important not to judge a book by its cover. Back when I worked this job, I learned that a lot of people thought us Lair Girls were just dumb airheads who couldn't hold normal jobs because of our attitudes or our tattoos. I admit that I kind of assumed that too about some of my coworkers, but as I got to know them, I learned that pretty much everyone one of them had hopes and dreams just like anyone else. One wanted to be a surgeon -- ha, we used to call her Vampirella and joked that she only wanted that career so she could drink the blood of her patients. But no, she wanted to help others because her father died on the operating table. That's not an airhead to me, and for many -- myself included -- The Lair was simply a stepping stone to something greater."

    "It's hard for me, I suppose. Try as I might to fight it, there's no denying that I was raised in an environment that taught me to look down my nose at others who make choices I disagree with... No, no, not necessarily disagree with, choices I've been told to disagree with."

    "Hey, I totally understand those biases. They're ingrained into us from a young age, and probably very deeply in your case. Everyone warned me that I was throwing my life away when I took that job. 'You'll develop a drug habit!' or 'It'll look bad on your resume!' or 'You'll be found murdered in a ditch!'. Or that I was wasting the empowerment that my mother and grandmother fought for. Putting the fact that both were 'just boring housewives' aside, I believe what truly gives women empowerment is the choice to do what they want with their lives, and I chose without fear of judgment. If I piss people off with my choices, that's their problem."

    In between the conversation, the waitress returned with a glass chalice of red wine and a plastic cup of blackberry soda; pleasantries were exchanged before the waitress quickly whisked away towards another table.

    "Hmm. I hadn't considered that way of looking at it. If you were happy and comfortable, I suppose I really shouldn't judge."

    "Precisely. And, ya know, look at me now! It didn't corrupt me like I was warned, I'm a professional fuckin' scientist!" She brought her hand to her mouth quickly. "Oop, forgot -- you don't like swearing."

    Kimberly let out a calming laugh. "Maybe... you should have the choice to swear, too, if you like."

    Another sly smile. "I choose not to, for your benefit."

    "Under that 'scary' exterior, you really are a sweetheart, you know that?"

    "Mmm," she hummed as she took a sip of her Spider Venom. "So! Now that we're seated and comfortable, how have you been since we last saw each other? I remember you said that you were under a lot of stress."

    "I was, and I kind of still am. I had a bad travel partner on the road to Rustlode Bluffs, and that road itself involved travel through a cave system..." She huddled her arms together and rubbed away at them. "I still getting shivers thinking about it."

    "Don't like caves, I take it?"

    Kimberly shook her head. "They're dark, they're damp and they're claustrophobic, and my travel partner -- bless his stupid, stupid heart for trying -- did not make it any easier. When I finally did reach town, I was so stressed about what I'd just experienced and keeping to my schedule that I had a nervous breakdown."

    "Aww. And then you missed your appointment anyways, I recall."

    A nod. "I did, but it may have been for the best. I had a chat with my old coordination mentor and he told me to beware the man who was hosting the workshop I was meant to take part in. So now, I'm on my way home to meet with that old mentor and see if coordination really is right for me in the end."

    "I still don't think you should let one failed contest destroy your dreams," Andrea encouraged.

    Kimberly picked up her chalice and swirled it around as she stared into the bottom of it. "It's true, I did win my first one... But that wasn't without controversy. People think it was rigged in my favor, and I'm starting to think again that it was. We'll see, though! My old mentor believes that I have potential, and I trust his judgment."

    "'atta girl!"

    Once again, the waitress returned and cut into the conversation by delivering their meals. A fragrant bowl of diced fruit that rested on a bed of lettuce was placed down in front of Kimberly, while a steaming plate of cherry red popcorn shrimp was given to Andrea. The hellfire spice applied to them was incredibly potent, overpowering the smell of the fruit and covering the table in an invisible acrid cloud of discomfort. More pleasantries were exchanged with the waitress before they both tucked in.

    "It's your turn, friend. What brings you to Steelport?"

    "Hunting."

    Kimberly raised her eyebrow. "Hunting? You don't mean..."

    She laughed. "No, I don't. I've been contracted by a major corporation to search for a Pokémon that's been causing trouble down in the subterranean tunnel network below the city. I'm not really looking forward to it... but if all goes according to plan, it should solve the Reiland Institute's financial troubles for awhile. And who knows, I might get a nice slice of the profits and be able to afford my own place."

    "I want you to know that my offer of paying for your rent is still on the table."

    "I appreciate that, but I don't think I'll need it. I've been living with my supervisor for... what was it, five days now? It's probably early to be drawing conclusions, but he's been a gentleman so far -- a little annoying, but a gentleman nevertheless. I'm starting to feel like I can trust him, and... I don't think I mind spending a couple months with him if I really have to."

    "Are you feeling less anxious about him, then?"

    She nodded. "I've been asking around. Yeah, there's rumors that he's a skirt-chasing creep, but nobody seems to be able to provide any evidence that he is. Just vague implications. I spoke with his ex-girlfriend this morning, and she has nothing but high praise for him. So... I'm thinking I can give him a chance."

    "A chance as... a romantic partner?"

    "Huh? Oh, no! Nothing like that." she dismissively laughed. "It's just... I've been giving him a real hard time over what feels like a big load of nothing. It's hardly the treatment he should be getting for going out of his way to make sure I have a roof over my head and a chance to continue my career. But I'll have to tread carefully, I don't want to go too far in showing him my appreciation."

    "How do you mean?"

    "Well... I probably shouldn't say this at the dinner table, but, umm... I'm a little... frustrated, if you catch my drift. It's been awhile."

    Kimberly's eyebrows shot up for a brief moment before returning to their normal spot. "Oh! I see. I suppose that's only natural, I've not been immune to those frustrations myself. The key is not acting on it if you don't think it's wise."

    "Yeah. I don't want to give him the wrong message, nor give myself an opportunity to cut loose and make a mistake I'll regret... Whatever the case, him and I will be working closely over the next few days. It'll give me the practice I need to figure out my boundaries now that I'm ready to let my guard down a little. Seems he's already figured his own boundaries out."

    "Good luck, friend! And if you do feel trouble brewing, please let me know. I'll be happy to set you up in a hotel for a few days while your passions subside."

    She smiled widely and happily. "You really are a good friend. I'll keep that in mind."

    Kimberly returned the smile as she pushed her half-full bowl of fruit salad forward a bit to signify that she was done. "So! What are you 'hunting'?"

    "Umm. I'm not sure how much I can say. I signed an NDA earlier today, I'm supposed to be pretty tight lipped about the whole thing... In fact, I might have said too much already, about what I'm doing and where. Whoops."

    "That's understandable! Well, hopefully you're up to the task, considering the last one didn't go so well."

    "Ha! I think this one will be a little bit easier than ghostbusting. Besides, it's more in my area of expertise, and I've got reliable backup if things get out of hand. My supervisor's brought four Pokémon along for the assignment, and we've got one of the official Rose League gym leaders coming with us, too. Not to mention a team of security backup."

    "Oh! If that's the case, you'll probably have very little trouble."

    She raised her glass of Spider Venom. "Here's hoping. But if I get hurt again on this assignment, I might go ahead and request just lab work for the rest of my career."

    "But then we wouldn't be able to team up anymore!"

    The two shared a hearty laugh, and for the first time since sitting down, struggled to find a conversation that both were happy with. Kimberly discussed music and art, only to be put off by Andrea's tastes in both. Andrea tried talking about some of her experiences at university, but quickly ran into a brick wall with explaining some of the intricacies of her studies. As they talked, Andrea picked up on a certain detail: Kimberly had barely touched her dinner since she received it.

    She motioned towards the bowl of fruit. "You done with that?"

    "Oh! Yes, would you like it?"

    "You sure you're done? You barely touched it." she pointed out.

    Silence.

    "I didn't wanna say it before, but I'm a little concerned."

    "About what?"

    "Well, you look a little... uhh... not healthy?" she sheepishly squeaked.

    "Excuse me?"

    "It's that dress of yours. You're showing off more than you usually do, and I noticed that... that, uhh..." she paused, studying the reaction on Kimberly's face. "...I get the feeling I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry. I-I'm just -- sorry."

    Kimberly leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and glared at the floor. "It's a sensitive subject for me."

    "Do you need any, like... help, or counseling?" Her eyes met Kimberly's and she could see the growing fire in them.

    "I need a change in conversation." Kimberly sternly suggested.

    "Okay, that's fair. I'll drop it."

    "Thank you," Kimberly added, thinning the tension. "You might not understand, but it's something I need to figure out myself."

    "Why do I get the feeling she's hiding something..." She shook her head ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. "Well, if you'd like a different subject, how about we pay our bill and get out of here, then? I'm eager to show off my little buddy I caught a few days back!"

    "That sounds like a good idea."

    - - - - -​

    "Oh! Sphaera obcentus!" Andrea said, squatting to get a closer look at it. "I've never actually seen a Jigglypuff up close before. Is he friendly?"

    "She," Kimberly said. "Jiggles seems friendly enough, but she has an attitude problem."

    She maintained her composure as Jiggles swaggered up to her with her best attempt at an intimidating face. "Ha, you call that a war face, Jiggles? You don't scare me, work on it."

    Feeling as if she were just challenged, Jiggles stopped in her tracks and inhaled deeply. She rapidly inflated to about three times her normal size, then let all of that air out in a deafening, shrill screech that blew Andrea's hair like a gale. Knocked off balance by the aural assault, Andrea tumbled backward, nearly knocking her head hard against the brick walkway. The roaring screech caught the attention of nearly everyone within earshot, prompting Kimberly to quickly recall her.

    "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Kimberly shouted as she ran over to help her friend off of the ground.

    Andrea accepted her help and tried to laugh it off. "Jeeze, you weren't kidding! She does have an attitude!" She readjusted her hair and shook her head. "Phew, I'm gonna have a headache after that. Lesson learned, I'm not going to taunt her again."

    "I have a feeling she'll be a handful..." Kimberly admitted as she latched Jiggles' gold and pink Princess Ball onto her waistline ribbon.

    "First thing you'll want to do when training her is to stop her from attacking people."

    Kimberly nodded. "Yes, agreed."

    "Well, I guess it's my turn," she said. She reached into her purse and pulled a standard red Pokéball from it, then tossed it into the air. The ball burst with a rippling hiss of static, unleashing her black Sentret into the street. The first thing he did upon inspecting his busy surroundings was rush to Andrea's side and clutch onto her leg like a frightened child.

    Kimberly gasped at the sight of it. "Oh my gosh, it's adorable! I've seen dozens of Sentrets during my travels, but I've never seen one like that!"

    "Yeah. Isn't he perfect for me?"

    "He is!" Kimberly knelt down to get closer to him and offered her hand out as a friendly gesture, but he ignored her. His eyes darted back and forth as he studied the nameless masses around him. "He's very shy. Does he have a name yet?"

    "No. I'm pretty bad at names," she explained. "I thought about naming him something like 'Sable' or 'Skull'... but they sound pretty dumb."

    A bit more comfortable with his surroundings, the Sentret broke his attention away from the crowds and instead focused on Kimberly; still, he refused to leave the security of his master's side.

    "I like the sound of Sable..." Kimberly said. "How about something like... Ebony?"

    "Ehhh, sounds like a girl's name. I don't think he'd like that."

    Thoughts rolled in Kimberly's mind. "Shadow?" Dismissed for being too cliched. "Dusky?" Too much like Duskull, which Andrea had hoped to add to her team some day, even if the odds were next to impossible. "Soot?" A possibility, and added to the growing list of potential names. "Grimm?" Inexplicably and absolutely out of the question. "How about... Lurid?"

    "Lurid... Interesting." She knelt down and picked up her Sentret, hugging him closely to her chest. "What do you think, little guy? How Lurid sound?"

    "Meeee-ee!" the Sentret chirped.

    "I have no idea if that means yes or no, but I guess we're going to see if that name works."

    Kimberly scooted closer and offered her hand out again. "He's looking a little rugged... Have you taken him to a PokéCenter yet?"

    "I haven't."

    "I might suggest doing so soon, friend. One key lesson that every new trainer learns is that a capture from the wild usually needs some level of medical attention. I would take him to a Pokécenter before you rely on him to protect you, just in case there's something that might be holding him back."

    "Sounds like good advice."

    "So... would you like to do anything else while we have the evening? I'd like to be in bed by 10 PM tonight, so that leaves me a few hours. Perhaps a movie?"

    "Dinner and a movie... What, are we dating now?" she joked. "Sure, sounds fun."

    - - - - -​

    Wondering what the hell these menu options are that the girls picked out at The Lair? Let's have a look:

    Spider Venom is almost your typical blackberry soda; carbonated and full of sugar. However, it's got one extra ingredient added to it: cloves. This is designed to give it an extra kick and invoke the feeling that you've just taken a gulp of something that you probably shouldn't have. How's it taste? I don't know, but I've been wanting to experiment to see just how bad (or surprisingly good!) it is.

    Sacrificial Offering is nothing special, just a simple dry red wine. In fitting with the theme of The Lair, its name implies that it is blood to be used as a sacrificial offering for some sort of dark ritual.

    Spawn of Hellfire, Andrea's choice, is popcorn shrimp in unimaginably spicy hot sauce. The idea is that the shrimp are underworld creatures that are more delicious than anything on earth, but that comes at a price: the safety of your taste buds. But it doesn't matter to Andrea, the spice never bothered her anyway.

    Fruit of the Forbidden Garden, Kimberly's choice of meal, is based on the idea of the forbidden fruit in the book of Genesis. It is a fruit salad that mixes apples, grapes, raisins, blueberries, dried banana slices and walnuts, all topped off with grated carrots. Apples are commonly considered to be the forbidden fruit that got Adam and Eve kicked out of the Garden of Eden, while other scholars suggest that grapes could also be considered the forbidden fruit.

    Kimberly mentioned Demonic Ribs, Shadowgrass and Nightmare Stew while looking over the menu. I don't really have much of an idea for the latter two, but I imagine Demonic Ribs is similar to the hot sauce covered popcorn shrimp.
     

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