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The sheep was something alright. Not the average shopper. Whatever this Mareep was playing, she was playing it well. The huge smile she wore hid something...something...

She lived in an infirmary, though. Maybe she was one of those people with a terminal disease, who was never allowed to leave the place, but got put on...parole for patients, whatever that was. Or maybe she was a runaway! But why did she need cloth...? Meh, too much thinking. Whatever she was, she wanted cloth for whatever reason.

"Fine, fine. Let me get some for you."

Stepping off the stool he was using to reach the counter top (And look normal sized), Percival went into the back, where the spools were kept. Cloth is very valuable. His father once said. That's why we keep it in the back. And cloth was by far the most profitable stock they held; disparities of sizes, colors, and...sizes...there wasn't a lot to it, alright?! Anyways, he grabbed a decent sized spool, hopefully that infirmary girl would be able to carry it.

"Here, here." Percival grunted as he carried it to the Mareep girl. "What were you even lookin' at? There's not much here other than your bog standard leather product and occasional toy."

Wait. The gears in the Lopunny's mind began turning. What if he could use her to his own benefit? A smirk formed on his face, slowly expanding into a dastardly grin. If he gave the thing away, his parents would realize how irresponsible he was with materialistic things! They'd give him a stern talking to, and then would think twice about passing on the family business!

"Hey, Little Mareep...You said you lived in a infirmary, riiiight? You must not get out much. So tell you what..." He bent down on a knee, to match her height. His droopy ears hit the floor as a result, sensitive as they were, but it did not matter at what was at stake here. "You pay for this bit of cloth? I'll throw in the trinket for free." The smirk grew into a sweet toothy smile, showing off two buck teeth alongside many other flat, slightly dimmed teeth. "Do we have a deal?"
 
Location: Suimera, Royal Palace, Council Wing
Time: Morning
Tagging: Salem, Mai-Ling, Alizé, possibly Kane
----------​

Salem watched the girl go.

At least, that is what he told himself happened. In truth the Greninja moved so fast that by the time the prince had blinked and realized she was no longer standing before him, he only had enough time to see her red robes disappear around the corner at the end of the hallway. If not for her fluttering attire he would not even have heard her leave.

‘Impressive,’ Salem found himself thinking for the second time in a span of mere minutes. ‘Considering her movement it is a wonder that I even glimpsed her enough to make her into one of my little mysteries.’

‘She still is one of my little mysteries,’ he realized then, ‘just different now.’

He smiled at the thought of still having mysteries left to look into, and his mental pun on her size. Turning around he plotted a new course towards Alizé chambers and set out.
-

When he strolled through the bustling servant wing a moment later, the prince his mind was still on his encounter with the enigmatic young woman. People moved out of his way and lowered their gazes when he passed so there was nothing distracting him his thoughts.

‘She was quite pretty,’ he thought, ‘and the way her ears flinched ever so slightly was very cute. I should find out more about her species. I can hardly wait to discover what she is really capable of.’
-

As was usual, the area around the Countess’ chambers was much warmer than anywhere else in the palace, save the kitchens perhaps, and utter devoid of personnel. This suited Salem just fine for Alize generally did not like to interact with him in public.

When he reached her door he did not hesitate and threw it open, stepping into the hot chamber.

The prince had understood from numerous stories that the heat was quite uncomfortable to most, unbearable to a few even, yet it had never really bothered him much. Maybe this was because of his Dragon heritage, or maybe because he was just used to it, what between the Countess and the General. Especially when the two were together did things tend to heat up, and not always just room temeratures.

“Alizé, I am taking your page for the day, find another runner if you need one,” Salem announced as he stepped inside.
 
"Hi Ghost."

Always quiet. Always calm and out of reach. So disconnected, pained, grieving, so much pain. Unattainable and far away, even as Cassandra held him there, within her very own hands there, he was not. No, there was no presence, nor existence. Just a hollow shell filled to the brim with nails and shards of glass, hate and anger, there was no room for a soul to rest within. He, who hid from reality with his hat and shirt and socks, hid from his own translucent skin and blue, veins a spectrum of indigo and violet, what it must be, she wondered, to avoid its clutch so, to barely exist. Yet be so painfully aware of one's existence enough to loathe oneself so. To be consumed by hatred.

And she, who wandered a maze, twisting and turning, running, moving further and further away from the way out. Exhausted, depleted, dying, dead, breathing, living, barely hanging on. Twisted by betrayal, consumed by sorrow, she was one who had long stopped trying, hoping, to find a way out. Long releasing every and all care, to run from the pain, and inflict them on others. As spite. As vengeance on those who did not deserve it. But they all deserved it in her clouded eyes that did not know anything beyond what it has seen. And it has only seen evils.

He did not fully exist and she did not fully live. He did not believe her existence and she did not believe he is alive. Ghosts and specters, hiding from the light to elude prying eyes of people and lustrous orbs in the sky.

Birds of a feather flock together.

It was a split second reaction she had come to be acquainted when the boy snapped his arms out and wide and urged her away in favor of shrinking into his hunch. Grasping his hat as if holding on to dear life, he was Boy, with a capital B, who had a terrible habit of deteriorating his posture. He who was a creature of empathy, yet denied having an ounce of it in his body, detaching himself, running from himself. And so the Liepard decided she found his pain amusing and pulled a Cheshire grin across her lips, and the glow of her fangs and silver irises being the only distinction visible within her dark silhouette. Following him as he drifted by, and flicking back to start from square one where the window hung.

Where a door slam echoed from across the street, beckoning the grinning Liepard to peer between the shutters sealed shut by rust and age and the vertical slits of her pupils receded to a thin line to adjust the light intake. And she watched a woman storm down the street with bags in hand and frustration written across her face. Consumed by anger, not once looking back. Cassandra couldn't help but release a dark chuckle from the back of her throat while her grin pulled ever wider.

And then, she simply drew back, like creeping mist pulled in reverse and she glided over the dusty floors with a sweep of her cloak and not a sound to be heard, not an object disturbed by the slender paws bare against their cold surface. Dust danced and swiveled after her as she delved deeper into the darkness, into the uninhabited where moss and fungi began their reign. She followed her own footprints, untouched since her last travail into the Allein home, into the border between the mother's room and the living area, and she took a sharp right into the area bordered by walls. Narrow and dark, and she was at home.

Cassandra counted her steps, padding one, two, three before halting in the face of a rotting door. Invaded and overtaken by moss and fungi, emitting a decomposing cry of help. She did not mind it. Its handle has long rusted away from function, but its lock mechanism was still alive. Hence, she drew a claw from the index finger of her right paw and inserted the smooth, sharpened tip inside the keyhole. Her ears twitched as they listened for the synchronization between her claw and the lock's gears, and once it was found, she flicked her wrist upwards, and the lock clicked quietly, allowing her to pull the door open, only slightly, and vanish behind it like a shadow seeping through its narrow cracks.

Leaving yet again a closed door. Untouched.

Her tattered cloak hid any and all signs of her feet when she descended the decomposing wooden stairway into the void below. Her vertical pupils widened as wide as they could possibly become and strained to see in the inky black of the Allein cellar room. A musky place far more untouched and dust coated than the entirety of the establishment, rotting away in silence, unseen, forgotten. The air was still, and thick, and reeking of moss yet the feline found strange comfort, a strange security in being there.

To just stand. And breathe. And hide where no one would look.

The darkness hadn't gone still, and she realized it had been because her eyes had fallen shut sometime before. Magenta eyelids slowly pull apart and her silver eyes were greeted by vision. The vision of her storage room. Crates and barrels were tables to hold her trinkets, her trophies and memorabilia of her accomplishments from the nights before. Gold and silver, jewellery and jewel encrusted statues, figurines, and all sorts of pretty things. Centerpieces of homes whose owners had money to spare. Whose homes had white picket fences and picture perfect gardens and families. Homes that twice more knight patrols, and sealed air tight with the best security systems to refuse entry for any and all except for those who had been invited, and owned it.

Releasing a breath, basking in the glory of her collection, her hands find their way to her belt, where multiple pouches were secured. Untying their restraints, pulling apart their openings, she proceeded to pull out more trinkets, a golden candelabra, a silver hand mirror, and a jewel encrusted egg; the centerpiece that immediately caught her eye upon entry of the home from the night before. However, one pouch remained tied and full, for it, and the silver coins it contained did not belong to her. No, it belonged to a certain Gallade she left all on his lonesome in a tavern room. Ramon did say he needed extra hands for the eatery.

Grinning proudly, she placed the three on an empty space atop a barrel.

And left them behind.

Back up the staircase and past the rotting door, to return to the Boy. But pausing within the border of dark and light. And she observed him instead. All on his lonesome, trapped within a prison he built for himself. Having no purpose but to simply wait the return of the mother. Cassandra felt her eyelids flutter and her ears press gently against the top of her head.

And she made her presence known by sitting noisily on the rickety rocking chair, swinging it back and forth with her momentum. Her tail curling around atop her thighs, one leg crossed over the other, her elbow propping itself against the arm rest, she hummed contemplatively,

"Mama's not back yet, hm?"

-

A moment had barely passed when she was interrupted again.

Still standing before her hearth, Alizé pressed her ears onto her head. Brows furrowed, lips curled into a scowl. It was her natural thinking face, accentuated by the wrinkles beginning to creep in with the ticking of years gone by. She was well into her mid forties now, but she felt centuries older. With her tail thumping impatiently against the mahogany flooring. Paws tightening their grip against her own wrists, her face pulled tight to restrain an outburst from spilling out. But the burning fires of the hearth showed her annoyance just as well.

She did not need to turn around to know who it was.

"Caspian." Alizé greeted courtly, even before he rose his voice to speak or come into the proximity of her desk, once again not bothering to waste energy to turn and grace him with her attention. For a woman of such smoldering passion, she was known to be surprisingly cold.

"I've finished designing and submitting all of the work to the shop Miss Alize. I couldn't find anyone who might have seemed like they were sabotaging the production line. Do you have any further requests?"

Alizé allowed a pause. Sliding her eyes shut to listen to the thump, thump, thump of her tail against the wood flooring. Her mind whirred, hand plucking the quill off its ink bottle to swiftly, precisely circle a district upon the map hanging over the massive hearth. "It will do for now. Thank you for your swift follow up."

However, within a moment's notice, an unexpected guest enters the perimeters of her hall. Ears perking, with a snap she turns herself exactly 180 degrees to face Kane, yet her steely blue eyes peer past his head, to the door left ajar behind him. Just in time to see the large bronze doors thrown open with ease, revealing a glimmer of blue, radiant, elegant, proud, at the far end of the hall.

Prince Salem.

With his presence came a gust of wind that chased away her heat and pressure. The fires seem to shrink into their hearth, cowering in fear before the presence of the Dragonair. Alizé could not deny the man's strength, the power he wielded, but she was also keenly aware of his naivety. His isolation and overall lack of common knowledge, and sense. But after her failure with King Zachary, she would lock him in a tower to within a heartbeat if it meant he would be safe.

After all, her job was to protect the crown. Salem was the crown. An object, a trophy. And all trophies belonged safe behind a locked, glass case. Display only. He would have brilliant ministers beneath him to keep the kingdom running. He was the face that would keep people blissful, believing, and faithful to the royal blood. Nothing more. She would not bare the embarrassment of failing a second time.

Alizé, I am taking your page for the day, find another runner if you need one,” He announced, proud and dignified as a true king, and only to the crown did Alizé extinguish her fire and her pride, and bow her head.

"As you wish, My Liege."
 
Crackle.
Crackle.

Sizzle.
Sizzle.

Alizé was generally a person whose burning flame could not be extinguished, not by the hands of any mortal anyway. It was like her own personal shield, something that was with her at all times, regardless of whatever abuse it took, it never faltered. Her fire would only grow more violent, and more powerful. This was what Kane admired about the ministers, they all had their own, unique way of doing things, they were all so different, yet they all had that same sense of authority that somehow linked them all together.

Kane's tall, rounded ears visibly twitched every time Alizé let her tail thump against the wooden floor. It didn't necessarily bother him, but it was kind of distracting. Not nearly as distracting as the large, detailed map looming over the hearth behind her though. It was clearly well crafted, even compared the architects high standards, it seemed decent. Hell, for a fleeting moment Kane thought that he might have drawn the map, but he was notified quickly of all the impurities and mistakes of it after one thorough scanning. But he had already had enough, Kane didn't need to waste anymore valuable time here looking at other peoples work when he could be doing something much more enjoyable or productive.

With a blink and a stride, Kane had already reached the exit. However, he didn't even need to open the door, as it had just been flung open by a person of similar physical stature to him. The person in question was someone he definitely didn't expect to be there, but he stood out like a sore thumb. The shimmering green eyes, the sleek marble horn and the millions of tiny scales coating his body that generously reflected every bit of light they touched. It was, without a single doubt, Prince Salem. What sealed the deal were the markings running all over his body. They weren't just paint, they were something else entirely, the sheer amount of power flowing through each inch of the marks were practically incomprehensible to Kane, the fact that he could see this. He decided that he would investigate into them later perhaps, now was not the time.

'I wonder. If I make him sad, will it rain? It's been pretty sunny the past few days, I reckon I could use some moisture in the air." Kane jokingly thought to himself, causing him to show a minuscule grin.

Kane kept his usual blank expression while he finally broke eye contact with the royal, tearing his dark, red, prying eyes off of the large tail extending from the Prince's backside. Without a second thought Caspian moved out of the way so the Prince could get his message across. Salem and Kane hadn't officially met before. They crossed paths one time due to some petty gardening work that the architect had to inspect, but they never really ended up interacting with each other. In his entire year properly working in the palace, the Luxray had never been so close to someone of such a high nobility. He wasn't really nervous though, it took a lot more for him to stop acting so calm and collected.

"Sorry for my incompetence, Prince Sal-, I mean, your Highness. I should watch where I'm going." Kane stated in the most polite tone he could muster, lying again. Of course he was watching where he was going, it wasn't really his fault that the heir to the throne just happened to be at the door when he was attempting to get out. This pissed him off in a way, but his act continued none the less. Years of experience really helped when it came to the charade he was putting on every hour of every day.
 
Mai could feel the heat well before she entered the General's Hall. The second clue that she was nearing her destination was the large pair of steel doors that stood before her. The doors stood at an impressive fifteen feet in height and were forged from two large pieces of steel. The shape, edgings, and engraving on the doors made them look like a massive pair of dragon wings.

The doors were as imposing as they were intended to be and if they had not been set on a careful counterbalance system, only beings of tremendous strength could open them without help. Of course if the palace were ever under siege the system could be destroyed, making the doors a practical defense as well.

Mai carefully reached out and grabbed an area of one of the door handles, which was wrapped with a thick black cloth. Even through the cloth, the Greninja could feel the heat radiating hungrily. Seeking like some starving beast to devour everything it could touch.

Mai pulled one of the large doors open and stepped inside the hall. The first thing to hit her was a wave of heat. Like but yet different to her Lady's own heat. While the heat of Lady Alize sought to make people bow before her presence and to humble all that approached, this heat had another purpose. The Generals heat was an oppressive wave, which sought to destroy all who would dare enter. It made your very lungs burn and slammed into invaders like a full frontal assault.

The second thing anyone would notice is the stark visual change in scenery. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the halls were made of carved black marble, complete with black columns spaced along the sides in perfect symmetry. The hall was huge and was designed to make everyone who enters feel smaller by comparison. There were no chandlers or candelabras for light. Instead there were six massive furnaces, set three in each side of the hall with constant roaring flames of war.

Mai always disliked this place severely when she was forced to come. It held none of her Lady's elegance, and was a stark barren zone with singled minded purpose of hunger. Mai leaned her shoulders forward and plowed into the heat wave, hurrying across the acrid hall as quickly as she could muster in the dehydrating environment.

At the end of the hall she reached another doorway. This one was a single door and only teen feet tall. The door frame however was carved to look like the open maw of a ferocious dragon, seeking to devour the unwary. Mai knocked on the door as she could hear the sounds of movement inside.

--------------------------------------------

Several minutes later Mai rested against the stone corridor wall just outside the general’s hall. She winced as the muscles in her lower back protested. She was going to have a bruise there later on she thought. It was her own fault for being so distracted when she was in the Generals presence. Still images of Prince Salem standing regally in the sun beam danced through her head. It had slowed her reaction time just enough that after dodging the tail, she had caught the kick square in her stomach.

"The general is always angry, especially when I offend his sight with my presence, but today he was even worse than usual. I hope whatever has him so mad does not bode ill for the kingdom." Mai rubbed her lower back one more time and then she straightened, and shook her head. This was no time to sit as both the Prince and her Lady were waiting on her presence.

Mai's Crimson eyes widened in worry as a new thought slipped into her mind. "The Lady said I was not supposed to be in her presence again until dusk. The prince said to meet him in my Lady’s office. Once again I must disobey my Lady, so as not to disobey my Prince. Oh, Lady Alize is going to be so furious with me. I hope she does not decide to exile me from her service and the palace after this, I would have no more purpose in life." The thought of exile scared the young Greninja far more than the thought of dying did. "Still I must not keep either my Lady or the Prince waiting." The young Greninja sped off down the hallway heading for a location she could never forget.

As Mai neared her Lady's abode, she could hear multiple voices coming from up ahead. She slowed her pace so as not to barge in unceremoniously and interrupt anyone's important dialogue.
 
Location: Suimera, Royal Palace, Chambers of Countess Alizé
Time: Morning
Tagging: Salem, Mai-Ling, Alizé, Kane
----------​

Salem smiled.

He was satisfied. Alizé had made no objections at all to his claiming Mai-Ling. A part of him was disappointed at how easy it had gone. Countess Alizé usually lowered her head to him the same as everyone else always did, but she was one of the few who would sometimes speak up against him, counsel a different approach, or implore him to reconsider something he had already decided on. Sometimes the prince would look her up and purposely announce something questionable just to have her go against it, go against him. His mother and uncle also treated him differently of course, and so did his cousin on rare occasion, but they were royalty themselves, family. It was not the same.

Today he would not dwell on it however, for today he had found something else which interested him.

“Sorry for my incompetence, Prince Sal-, I mean, your Highness. I should watch where I’m going,” a gruff yet cultured voice spoke up and drew his attention to the other person in the room.

It was a reasonably big man of sturdy build and rather wild looking with his spiky black hair. The man reminded Salem of a young lion, similar to Alizé but less smooth, more angular, and ironically enough warmer.

The dragonair took a step closer and studied the man’s face more closely. The eyes were a deep red color, not unlike those of the stealthy page, and his face was surprisingly stoic considering he had almost collided with the prince a mere moment ago. A peculiar smell hung about the man and it took Salem a moment to place it. He recognized the ozone easily enough but the rest different. Wood? Oil?

Then it came to him and he snapped his fingers stepping back.

“You are the master tinker who came to the palace not long ago.”

It was not a question, rather an observation and Salem was immensely pleased. Not just about making the connection, but with meeting the man himself.

He had heard whispers of an eccentric person walking around the palace grounds. A brilliant architect and engineer, but equally odd in his behavior and interests. Add to that his near slip of the tongue just now and his passive demeanor and Salem was sure that here was something fun to interact with.

“Are you free right now?” he asked and immediately continued. “If you are, I want you to walk with me and tell me your name, along with whatever else you wanted to tell me before you caught yourself.”

Without waiting for a response, and intentionally provoking the new guy, Salem turned around and stepped towards the door, calling back at Alizé over his shoulder,

“You will get your errant girl back in one piece.”

Out in the hallway he found said page waiting for him as instructed. He smiled down at the girl as he considered how fast she must have run to make it all the way to his uncle’s chambers and back here this quickly. She did not even look winded, though she certainly was tense.

“Mai-Ling, you are here, well done,” he said. “Alizé made no objections, so it appears you can be mine for the day. Would you like that?"

"You are allowed to say no,” he added and waited for the girl to respond.
 
"Oh, thank you, sir!" Opel replied to the Buneary, her smile growing. As the bunny walked off into a back room, she broke into a quiet fit of hysterics for no reason in particular. Trying to calm herself down, she succeeded only when Percival walked back into the room, placing the cloth on the counter. He asked what she was looking at, then proceeded to make a deal with her. Eyes sparkling with excitement, the Mareep girl started her jumping once again, speaking through her large smile while she did so. "Really? Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

After once again calming herself down, now standing normally, Opel Fay reached into her bag, taking out a handful of coins and holding them out to Percival. "Is this enough? I have more if it's not." Switching the hand she held her money in, she jingled the money in her bag to prove her point.

Back to the trinket, she looked, ecstatic that her friend's stunt had worked for her, since she had never used it before. She turned around once again, now straining her eyes, not to mention her arm, too, up over the desk. Percival's smile made hers grow wider, for whatever reason that may be. "You really are too kind, sir," she spoke, closing her eyes for a moment and beaming up to the Buneary. "Much kinder than most, actually." The hysterics came back, and she had to drop the coins from her hand onto the countertop in order to cover her mouth.

However, Opel grew worried that her cover would be blown, and a sudden pit in her stomach grew worse by the second. Maybe this was a bad idea after all... she thought, feeling sick, all her laughter ending. The smile was wiped off her face, replaced by a neutral expression, but she still looked up to the boy with widened eyes. Oh, no...
 
The sun was rising over the horizon of Delinquent Town, and yet, for some reason this section of Suimera didn’t feel like it deserved sunlight. For Jade, a female Seviper whose eyes had cracked open just enough to let trickling light into her red irises, Delinquent Town was a cesspool of laziness and crime. The only reason it wasn’t beautiful was because it didn’t earn its beauty. Not like the rest of Suimera.

Jade sat up and took a look around her room, or more so, her and her sister’s room. The sound of heavy breathing brought her attention to the bed adjacent to hers, where she saw a bundle of sheets rising and falling. As stern as her expression was, she found it comforting that her younger sister was still safely tucked in her bed. After recent events, knowing the whereabouts of her siblings might as well have been a blessing by Sui himself.

It had been a few days since her sister, Diamond (or ‘Diana’ as she liked to refer to herself), had seemingly vanished. While the rest of her family had done their part in searching for her, Jade saw the whole effort as useless and inefficient. No one would listen to her about searching outside of Delinquent Town.

While Jade viewed her older sisters as airheads, perhaps Diamond had enough sense to leave this wretched place. Then again, it was hard to read someone’s personality when they hardly spoke two sentences to you.

In spite of all the time they lived with one another, Jade felt like she hardly knew her second oldest sister. She was always so quiet, unusually quiet. Unusual because she didn’t appear shy, or that she was holding her tongue. Her silence was voluntary and oddly enjoyed.

Jade easily preferred Diamond over the oldest sister of all of her siblings, Jasmine, who wouldn’t stop yammering on about ‘oh, I wrote a new song!’ and ‘I met this cute guy at The Playground’. Pathetic concerns that were likely the reason they still lived in this rickety old home. Nobody who lived here had a real job.

The Seviper stretched and groaned before standing up on the cold wooden floor. She could already smell breakfast being made downstairs, and her forked tongue flicked out of her maw in delight.

Before changing out of her pajamas, she took a look at herself in the long mirror that was positioned in the corner of the bedroom, close to her little sister’s bed. She eyed the young sleeping Ekans one more time and grimaced. Hardly any part of her could be seen, which was unfortunately normal by her standards. Jade constantly played guessing games as to why Amber covered herself like she did. Right now, the winning theory was that she was ashamed of how she looked. From what Jade had been able to see of her, she wasn’t born with a nose, ears or hair. Much like some of the others living in Suimera, her head was truly that of an Ekans.

Jade didn’t quite understand the shame behind such a feature, but her opinion didn’t stem from the fact that she, too, was born the same way. Having the head of a true Seviper didn’t feel wrong, it felt normal. Much more normal than the flat faces of her two older sisters. However, based on how people ogled over Diamond and Jasmine, she guessed that her opinion was likely an unpopular one.

Even though Jade had the head of a Seviper, her body still met the standard of most in her lithe family. Unlike her sisters, of course, her scales were black with patches of yellow. On her chest was a purple marking, one that looked more like a jagged birthmark as opposed to the intricate Arbok design on Jasmine’s.

Drooped to the floor was a long black tail with a red, razor sharp tip at the end of it. The only time that Jade had ever used that tip was to point at someone when she was trying to put emphasis on her words. Between that and her long red fangs, it wasn’t hard to threaten others.

After rubbing away the sleep from her eyes, she changed out of her pajamas and made her way downstairs to get her day started. As always, she was the first to show up at the table where her brother already had a good meal sprawled out and ready to be consumed. Also, as always, she finished her meal before anyone else came downstairs.

Thanking her brother, she quickly hurried out of the door and into the sun. With any luck, today’s job hunt would be successful. She’d had her eyes on a shop not too far away from where she lived, today was as good a day as any to see if they needed additional hands.
 
Flare.
Flare.

Creak.
Creak.


Are you free right now?” Salem asked.

Before Kane could even open his mouth to speak, he was quickly cut off by the Prince, who continued to talk anyway without receiving a response.

If you are, I want you to walk with me and tell me your name, along with whatever else you wanted to tell me before you caught yourself.

'Tell you what? The fact that you're probably not prepared to be king? Nah, I totally couldn't say that to you." Kane sarcastically thought to himself, greatly resisting the urge to scoff at nobility. He personally thought that the way Salem was raised wasn't very good training for a king. Although, he did doubt himself at times, saying that he might have been receiving proper teachings in seclusion, still, that most likely wasn't the case. With the death of Prince Salems father and the stories of a deadly assassination attempt, the royal protection had almost seemed too secretive of their prized prince. It wasn't necessarily the Prince's fault that things were like this, but Kane still partially blamed him in purposeful ignorance anyway.

"Yes, I'm available right now. The name's Kane Caspian, it's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." Kane said, with the same stoic expression on his face. Small beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he spoke, but they were hidden quite well by his hair. They weren't from speaking to Salem, rather, the intense heat that seemed to only grow bigger every second he stood in Alizé's quarters.
Upon realizing this Kane turned to the fire-type mistress and said his goodbyes before heading out into the hallway with the Prince.

The Luxray breathed a sigh of relaxation as he closed the door behind him. It wasn't much cooler, but it was still cooler none the less. Kane took a moment to notice the marks on Salem's skin again. They were quite alluring in the way they made sharp turns and curves with effortless symmetry and precision. 'I oughtta get in contact with whoever painted those.' He thought to himself.

Out of pretty much no-where a Greninja appeared a little further down the hall. It took a moment for Kane to realize it, but it was the same one he saw run past him before. Of course, each of her swift movements was carefully observed and monitored by the Architect as she drew closer, he didn't miss a thing. It was such a shame that such precise and careful abilities were given to a dark type. Kane didn't have anything against the controversial types, it was more of a pity feeling. They couldn't help that they were born that way, and the stereotypes didn't exactly help to rectify the widespread belief that all poisons, darks and ghosts were inherently evil. Hell, Kane knew what it felt like, he'd been mistaken as a Dark type himself many a time before. All cases he was accused of ended up with the accuser having missing eyebrows the next morning, what could he say? It was kind of amusing.

Just to make sure he wasn't seeming rude, Kane strolled up to Salem and stood next to him. The girl in front definitely looked tense, she must have had an errand to do or something.

"Yo." The electric type greeted, with a small toss of his right hand.
 
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Kuniik walked through the streets of Sumeria. He carried himself with an air of sophistication, and grace, and a small trace of intimidation. It was the presence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted, how to get it, and when.

He wore a pitch black suit, and had short stylish red hair. Most would not believe it, but the male was in fact a Zoroark. However, he carried himself like royalty. As he would walk down the street, his appearance would capture the attention of many. The Zoroark continued walking, however, as if it were something he had grown accustomed to.

Today, the male was heading to the castle, or more precisely, the outside grounds of the castle. He had been contacted as a notable source for trading goods, and getting a good deal. His years of hard work, and careful planning had payed off, and now a Dark type would be entering the castle grounds. To many, this would be the peak of their accomplishments. It would be a day that they would remember for the rest of their lives. To Kuniik, though, it was merely a stepping stone to greater things. His ambition reached far beyond being a simple merchant.

Kuniik aimed to be the king of this land. No matter what society told him, he knew he was born for the role. He was a natural leader, and possessed a great amount of charisma. However, the male had the unfortunate fate of being born a lowly Dark type. Kuniik still remembered what it was like to sleep cold, and hungry in the streets. He knew the fortunate had been born in a palace, and had never skipped a meal. The king to be of this land disgusted the Zoroark even more. A mere boy who had not been challenged, and never had to worry about a thing ruling over him? No, such a thought left a bad taste in his mouth. This country needed someone who had experienced the world like he had, not some protected toddler.

The Zoroark finally approached the gates. When the guards stopped him, he merely gave them his letter of invitation, and was let through without another word. Even here Kuniik seemed to draw the eyes of other. He commanded their attention with his very presence. He had been told by many he was a charming, and handsome man after all, but the Zoroark only mildly allowed it to touch his ego.

Kuniik walked around the grounds of the castle, and marveled at its beauty. Certainly the tax payer's money had not gone to waste upon all the luxuries that had been built for the royalty. The Zoroark looked at his note again, attempting to remind himself exactly who he was going to be negotiating with, and where.
 
The morning had started out very bittersweet for young Adam Greywood. Almost twenty five now but still adjusting to an adult life. Especially that of a knight’s. Although, he was ashamed to say he would not be performing any knightly duties that day, and that was just the least of his worries that early in the morning.

The Gallade threw open the doors of the home he shared with his two brothers; a teacher and a writer, both having left the house already. He grabbed his emergency silver stash from the hidden compartment of his room wardrobe, and sprinted right back out to the lower levels of palace grounds. Brushing aside amused looks and mocking laughter, carefully avoiding the piercing eyes of the general when he strode past with his entourage, Adam dove into Seamus’ armory and threw on his armor with haste, all the while doing his very best to ignore the elder Galvantula’s snorts and cackles at his comical attempts at gearing up.

He panted still from the five mile dash he ran just to make it back to the castle before the sun rose high enough to touch the palace’s golden doors, and tardiness beyond it was simply crippling for a knight rising through the ranks like himself. However, for whatever reason, they had chosen him to run the errand of passing (they called it passing, he thought it was more along the lines of haggling) the shopping list of the castle staff, who were apparently spread a bit too thin for their liking in preparation for the upcoming ceremony, to a renowned merchant in exactly ten minutes. And this was not just any merchant, but the very first, and quite possibly the only Dark Type around to gain such incredible success and prestige to enter the palace grounds for the very first time since the assassination of King Zachary, should rumors be believed.

And he was running late.

Despite how happily he had woken up to Miss De L’allee dressing herself and recounting their night together, he had barely managed a shower in the rush of leaving the tavern, delayed only by his disability to find his coin pouch before realizing he’d been robbed and unable to pay for the night he spent, and took off before Ramon could slap an apron over his head, yelling, “I’ll work it off after my shift is over! Knight’s honor!” over his shoulder as he disappeared down the street.

Adam slowed down only to carefully slide his crest through the slit of his chest plate, and he grabbed his helmet in one hand while the other struggled to buckle his belt with fingers coated by metal gloves with horizontal slits along its length to enable him to draw his blades, the only weapons he ever needed. He uttered, “Have a good one, Seamus.” Before he was once again gone through the doors.

His helmet, decorated by a blue and green feather, he equipped last as his metal boots grinded against the stone paving of the first level of the palace grounds; guards housing. They would be meeting in front of the main post which overlooked the palace gates, though still quite some ways in from the elegant gates themselves. Adam wove easily between the waves of guards going about their daily routine, each one towering intimidatingly over him. But then, he was only five feet eleven inches compared to the guards that stood well over six feet five. He was small, sure, but knights were not supposed to be intimidating walls of flesh like guards were. They were to track, pursuit, and apprehend criminals and troublemakers within large crowds and masses without demolishing everyone in their wake, being faster and more agile as a result.

Upon reaching the main outpost, Adam found he only had a second to spare before his guest came into view. But really, he was impossible to miss, with an ensemble and grooming that would easily make any noble green with envy, and an inexplicable aura that simple drew one in, a stark contrast to the off-putting energy and appearance most darks held. ‘So the rumors are true.’ He thought offhandedly, approaching the man with a confident gait. ‘You really can’t identify him as a mistype upon first glance.

“Kuniik Ordel.” He said with his voice ringing strong and true as he stood before the merchant. “I am Sir Greywood. We have been expecting you.” ‘More or less.’ He thought privately as he unlatched a scroll he had left on his belt the day before. “Here is the list of items we would like to purchase from you. At the bottom, you will find the amount of coins we are willing to pay.”

The paper was quite an impressive length should it be unrolled, specifying a need for an array of edible goods such as vegetables and fruits, dairy products, meats and proteins, to decorative items such as ribbons, silks, linens, and flowers in an array of color. It had all been written down with an immaculate and precise handwriting from top all the way down to the starting price of five hundred gold coins for all the listed goods, and the signature of the head maid herself, Madam Zoya.

“We expect the goods to arrive in two days times. Do you have any objections to the agreement?” Adam continued.
 
Kuniik turned to the Gallade that approached him. He gave a graceful bow to the knight, "Good day to you sir knight." he replied calmly.

As the knight showed him the list of goods that were needed, he quickly read through it, his mind calculating the actual value of each item. The head maid, this Madam Zoya, certainly knew the market value of the items well. Surely, she was a rather educated person; at least when it came to things of this matter.

His crystal blue eyes glanced up at the Gallade, and back down to the paper. He showed himself to be contemplative in thought, as if it would be rather difficult for any merchant to procure such goods at the prices. However, Kuniik knew he could easily buy them for a much cheaper price.

"I believe you do know the rather serpentine form of market price, and economy correct? After all, the price you are willing to pay is far too low when considering the amount of effort it will take to procure such luxuries as silk, and preserved flowers."

He paused for a moment, allowing the Gallade to contemplate what he'd just stated.
"Any normal trader would ask for a higher price, we ourselves need to turn a suitable profit to both pay taxes, and feed ourselves, and our families after all. However, this is why I was called here is it not? "

He waited for the Gallade's reply, "Then I shall get these goods, but something else of value must be traded. However, I am not simply going to demand currency. Rather, I can sell you every item on this list for a cheaper price than what is listed. All I demand in return is your continued patronage. Is that reasonable to you?"

Again, he waited for a response, his crystal blue eyes seeming to stare straight through the Gallade as if he was gazing upon his very soul. The Zoroark's presence exuded confidence, and sophistication, but it also presented a formidable force that put others off their guard. Even to the normal person Kuniik's deal would be something of a dream.

Kuniik took a writing tool from his pocket, and scribbled down a few prices. He then handed the paper back to the Gallade. "I believe half price is an offer you cannot refuse?"

His eyes studied the Knight in front of him, and he smirked, "If you are worried about quality, be assured, no patron of mine has ever left unsatisfied. I will assure the highest quality goods, at half the price. The only extra trade is the castle's continued patronage of my services." he reiterated.

Even to the normal person such a promising deal would lead anyone to suspicion, or confusion. Kuniik knew that the Gallade would ask his motives to which the Zoroark merely replied, "Is it not my duty as a citizen to serve my country? If that explanation is simply not enough, I implore you to consider that your continued patronage will increase my company's notoriety. After all, a goods trader that sells to the castle frequently is a rather trusted source of goods is it not?"

He pushed the sheet of paper over to the knight, "If you do not wish for this deal, I shall simply have you pay full price, and a mistype such as myself shall never have to show his presence in your gracious palace again. However, I believe that the royal family is attempting to bring the types together once more. Perhaps you'd like to take the first step?"
 
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Wilhelm was often heard before he was seen, either his bellowing voice or his steps alone would often give his location away when he wasn’t trying to control it. Today it was the latter, the sound of heavy footsteps, each one making the ground itself tremble, rang out down the cobble alleys he patrolled as the guard trudged through his daily routine.

In fact Wilhelm had been so lost in thought about what the tiny Sentret boy had said to him that it was only when he almost tripped headfirst into one of Suimera’s beautiful canals that he came to his senses and stopped walking, his massive hands clutching at the straining fence posts that bordered the water desperately to save himself.

As he stood back upright it became clear to him that he had been too slow to save the fence as well as himself, the wooden struts now splintered and bent at funny angles, the white paint now cracked and flaking off in some places. A feeling off pity washed over the Aggron as he looked at the crippled fence, it wasn’t the first item to have met its demise to his insane weight and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Due to the fact Wilhelm had evolved at a very rapid rate, certainly quicker than either of his parents had done, he was already an Aggron by the time he was ten and it was coincidently that just after this evolution that almost everything in the Greystone household began to break. Cups were smashed in hands, chairs flattened into nothing more than firewood and perhaps worst of all many a ceiling was pierced by a certain somebodies horns. His parents referred to him as their own living battering-ram, but they loved him none the less.

Well it’s all good just standing here and feeling sorry for myself but that’s not going to fix this poor fence…Wilhelm thought as he assessed the situation, his brow furrowing behind his visor in concentration. Some might think it odd that the Aggron was getting this bothered about the fence, after all he could just report it to the city council and they would send somebody out to fix it instead, but Wilhelm felt just as responsible for the buildings and structures of his city as he did the people, he had vowed to protect every last brick of Suimera and those who knew Wilhelm well knew that the option of breaking a vow was no option at all to him.

Thinking back to the best craftsman he knew (his own father of course.) and after studying the design of the relatively simple fence the steel guard had come up with a plan of action. If he simply moved the main support strut back into in an upright position he would have plenty of time to grab a nail and hammer from a local home or shop, most citizens being quite willing to lend such things to him thanks to his occupation.

With a deep breath he inched one of his heavily armoured hands towards the wonky post, his entire arm shaking slightly from the effort of moving so painstakingly slow. After what seemed like an eternity his index finger finally reached it, nothing more than the faintest of touches, the metal doing nothing more than practically kissing the wood. A smile that could have lit up a well spread across the guards face at the success, perhaps he wouldn’t have to endure another bout of ridicule from the lads down at the city council, no “Oh Wilhelm fancy seeing you here again, what did you do this time, crush the castle?”.

His smile vanished faster than a Buneary into a hole however as the fence gave one last dying screech, before promptly tumbling backwards and vanishing into the depths of the canal, quickly swept away by the current. Wilhelm had reached out desperately to grab it but he was too slow, his size working against him, and he was powerless to prevent the events he had set in motion.

As he watched the last chips of wood float away down the river his mountain like shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh so loud that a group of nearby songbirds flew away in a flurry of feathers.

Looked like he was paying a visit to the city council after all.
 
"I believe you do know the rather serpentine form of market price, and economy correct? After all, the price you are willing to pay is far too low when considering the amount of effort it will take to procure such luxuries as silk, and preserved flowers." The merchant said after a moment of consideration, and Adam had expected no less. "Any normal trader would ask for a higher price, we ourselves need to turn a suitable profit to both pay taxes, and feed ourselves, and our families after all. However, this is why I was called here is it not?"

“I have been instructed to say that the palace is willing to increase their offer by twenty percent, but that is as high as we will go.” Adam said in response, his voice firm and confident, if not a tad bored. “If you feel you are unable to fulfill such a task even with our final offer, then we shall seek another merchant to provide for us. It is very crucial that we receive these goods soon, and there are many other merchants just as willing as you are, Mr. Ordel.”

All procedure, all according to instruction. Adam always hated running petty tasks. Not to mention the bitter fact he would have to work off his room bill in that old Mr Mime’s tavern and work his night away cleaning tables and possible burning his fingers in the kitchen. The entire ordeal simply made the Gallade squint in distaste behind his visor.

"Then I shall get these goods, but something else of value must be traded. However, I am not simply going to demand currency.” The Zoroark’s words certainly snapped Adam out of his stupor, and his ruby eyes refocused on the male standing before him. His words took a moment to register with him, and the moment he did, his eyebrow was raised, but the reminder of his face remained stoic. “Rather, I can sell you every item on this list for a cheaper price than what is listed. All I demand in return is your continued patronage. Is that reasonable to you?"

Both eyebrows were raised now as the knight locked gazes with the merchant. Being a psychic type, Adam had always been privy to picking up energy and vibes from people around him, and this mistype held something nasty yet incredibly magnetic at the same time. With his confidence, eloquence, his sophistication and force, masking over a vicious business shark that got his work done no matter what the cost. Kuniik Ordel was a male to be reckoned with indeed. He would hate to have to compete with him.

"I believe half price is an offer you cannot refuse?" The Zoroark continued, handing to him a piece of paper with his desired price, cut in half just as promised. Adam merely glanced upon the piece of paper, no doubt something he would need to turn in to Madam Zoya later on, contemplatively.

It makes sense.’ Adam found himself concluding. ‘Half price for continued patronage. He’s making an investment, a guarantee for his own future. Making himself one of the few elite merchants the palace relies on for their goods. That’s a status upgrade if I’ve ever seen one. This Zoroark knows what he’s doing. Any fool of a merchant would ask for a higher price but forget that they may never be of use to the palace ever again. And the money they receive? It is ephemeral. But elevating oneself as part of the elite sticks much longer. I imagine the amount of business it would bring him as well.’ The Gallade returned his glance to Kuniik, his mind whirring still. Yet he continued.

"If you are worried about quality, be assured, no patron of mine has ever left unsatisfied. I will assure the highest quality goods, at half the price. The only extra trade is the castle's continued patronage of my services." Kuniik summarized with a smirk, and his confidence took him back to the night he had encountered Miss De L’allee. He wondered if this was a trait shared amongst dark types, or if the two darks he knew directly were simply something else. ‘She’s definitely something else.’ He quickly concluded.

And then he remembered he still had to say something. Sure he must have more or less figured out the gist of this man’s intentions, but he still needed to say something.

“I will have to leave that decision to Madam Zoya.” Adam said with his voice ever strong and sure. “However, I will need your statement in regards of your reasoning for this negotiation.”

"Is it not my duty as a citizen to serve my country? If that explanation is simply not enough, I implore you to consider that your continued patronage will increase my company's notoriety. After all, a goods trader that sells to the castle frequently is a rather trusted source of goods is it not?" Adam couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for figuring that out himself. Granted, his family had always been more prone to the intellectual side of things rather than the physical. The first time he wrote his parents of his accomplishment in the big city as a palace knight, they genuinely thought he had been making a joke.

The Zoroark pushed the sheet of paper over to him yet again, and the Gallade finally received it. This would be their fine print, their agreement. And he would need to submit it to Madam Zoya right away before she impaled him and stuck him in the plaza for decoration. That Empoleon was almost as bad as Lady Alize herself. He always felt sorry for the palace staff.

"If you do not wish for this deal, I shall simply have you pay full price, and a mistype such as myself shall never have to show his presence in your gracious palace again. However, I believe that the royal family is attempting to bring the types together once more. Perhaps you'd like to take the first step?"

“Again, that is not in my authority.” Adam preserved, rather flatly. Yet still, he tucked the piece of paper in his belt and gave a cordial nod in response. “I will have to relay this to Madam Zoya, and she will need to discuss this with the Queen in order to determine whether or not the palace shall continue its patronage with you. We will pay you once we receive our itineraries, and from there you can determine status of your work with us. If you are paid in full, then you shan’t need return here again. If you receive half the intended offer, then you shall become one of our business partners. Of course, that will depend fully on your performance; the punctuality of your delivery and the quality of your goods.”

Adam had to take a breath which he had forgotten to take through it all. “Nevertheless, we expect you in two days, ideally before daybreak and the deadline being noon. I have been told the palace is in dire need of said goods, and we are already being extremely generous providing you two days despite our condition.” Through his visor, Adam eyed Kuniik seriously. “That is to say, if you fail to deliver, we will have to blacklist you permanently.”

It was his turn to wait for a response, and regardless of what it may be, he straightened his back, and nodded, “Have a good day, Mr. Ordel.” Before turning sharply and leaving.
 
Darkness veiled the shudder of dust as the boy paused in his sluggish gait, hat tassels knocking lightly against his chest, listening to their hollow reverberation. Toes, shrouded by dusty white socks, pushed their blunt ends against a rock on the floor- one that lay jagged, triangular, perfectly geometrical and yet somehow ragged, skin bundled with blues and grays that stretched all the way to its core. He nudged it once more, listening to the steely clatter of its teeth against the floorboards, a sort of flat, tasteless sound diffused by wind and white noise. Much of the Allein home's interior was like this rock- strangely geometrical, filled with rectangles and spheres and triangles, yet jagged and toothy, floors littered with his mind's debris- old books, half read and half open, broken terracotta, numerous rocks, clay marbles, puzzle pieces, pots of numerous levels of usefulness drying, fired, or aged and dead. And they all seemed to gather near the splintered walls, lying tired, upturned and disheveled, tendrils of a scattered mess slowly infecting the middle of the room. And, like the rock, they all held a layer of dust, symbols of a youthful life neglected.

The boy swayed in his stance, leaning down to fondle the rock near his foot, letting particles of dust recede in his loose, hanging grasp, before it slipped from his ghostly hand and knocked against the dull floor, a cloud of dust, wraith-like, swelling from the rock's fall, and the boy resumed his sulking gait, hunch backed, staring at the floor. He walked slowly, describing a wide arc around the window and its brash window shutters, reluctant to return but loathsome in staying away, white noise swelling slowly in his ears. A dull, hanging oppression signaled the Ghost's absence, but the boy never made the connection, overcome by the cobwebs of a longing mind. He paused, turning fully towards the window, silent.

Abruptly, the boy broke away, hat tassels thumping lightly against his chest, and made his way through rusted air and cluttered floors to a table, pushed into the room's corner. Upon this table, leaning with a sigh unto the wall, were numerous lumps of dark grey clay, out of place in the geometrical household in large, messy lumps. Near the table hunched a smaller one, lower to the ground, a small, flat wheel on top of it, attached by a shaft to another, larger one on the bottom, and beside that sulked a small wooden chair, it's high back facing the small wheel-table so that if one were to sit in it properly, they'd be facing directly away from of it. Que scraped a small ball of clay off of the table, putting one, socked foot up on the seat of the chair and facing the wheel, folding his leg beneath him and resting his chin on the chair's back. Placing the clay on the center of the wheel, one foot hanging down, he prodded it lightly, making no move to start the wheel's turn.

There was a certain passiveness to a fold of clay, smoothed simply by water's touch, bent by a single hand, able to meld back into nothing whenever he so chose, for, if the clay were not fired and simply left to dry in the air, the solid stature of a finished pot could be diffused by soaking it in water. And yet, when fired, it stood so solid and resolute that without enough thickness to its walls it grew brittle, breaking only in shards and chunks, left eventually to be torn down by time and the wind. Still, it survived, for he'd heard tales of ancient pots discovered in the ruins of old cities, or found by miners buried within the earth. Truly, clay was a contradictory force, existing only to his whims, and yet when he gave it power through fire it ceased beneath his reign, stubborn and brittle and broken.

His disappointment at such a... complete creation would soon be tempered, however, for his mother would return home with more clay- native clay, perhaps, pooling in lakes from mountain rivers, drying into a rusted red, or those from far off lands, rarer, dug from the earth, of different, magical, incredible qualities, so foreign to him that he could not give up the pleasure of molding it to his whims, and he'd soak and mold and soak again, refusing to allow such beauty to escape his power. Clay that was white as the purest sand, when fired, so smooth it was almost glassy, creating dishes of porcelain imitated by jealous glazes, clay darker, brown, grey, that when heated burned bright red, clay of numerous purities and mineral densities that justified use after use after use. But of all the clays, his favorite one to use was one found high in the mountain rivers, and, later, was discovered to have an extremely high iron quantity, so that it appeared a dark grey. And, oh, with that he could do so much- for when fired with high amounts of oxygen it dried red, but when fired without access to air, it became silhouette black.

The boy rolled his eyes thoughtfully up towards the ceiling, where there lay a single shelf installed by himself, and on this shelf were a potter's jewels- those of ancient techniques and rare pieces practically revered in his isolation, and of the many was a single pot with a style called black figure art- silhouettes painted on the red, iron rich clay. And oh, how thoughtfully he imitated these creations, painting on a leather dried pot a mix of water and clay, so that when fired the makeshift paint would grow glossy and nonporous, allowing for it to stay a deep black while the rest of the world dried red. And yet, so he hated relinquishing his control, for only would designs become visible when fired, and once fired it would never again return to be submitted by his hands. It was sacrifice to be sure, for- Oh, how he loved the feeling of control, to mold a vase into being however he wished.

Returning his gaze towards the clay, Que's socked foot pushed against the bottom wheel and this, moving with the axle, caused the wheel on top to begin to turn, the ball of clay molded onto its surface spinning with it. The boy wasn't quite a fan of the wheel's fast movements, preferring the use of a slow wheel, but he couldn't ignore the enchanting symmetry of its creations, and yes- yes, he imagined a pot where such symmetry was key, one with long, flower like petals, dipping and rising like waves of the sun, such a warm red that it glowed with scorching acidity, and at its center he'd paint tendrils of ivy, mistletoe, a dark black silhouette of vines wrapping an acrid flower that glowed as bright as the sun, and these would encroach on the sun's petals until they just reached the tips- and there, there he could abandon the use of a fast wheel and return to that of the slow he so desired in order to fashion their tips with a crude geometry, and on these he would paint with his liquid clay, faces- circles, blobs, malformed by the sharp, unsymmetrical tips, with long, curved, begging eyes glowing as hot as the sun, staring forwards, ever forwards, always forwards, unable to turn their heads to glance at each other, pushed into place by silhouette tendrils so that they hadn't even knowledge of the great, beaming, sun like flower that had given them their eyes, staring forwards, ever forwards, always forwards...

The veil of white noise lifted from his ears, softer, now, muted, dull, shrouded by a subtle shriek of wood as it cast drifts of dust across the floor, and the boy turned from his still spinning lump of clay to find the silence returned. He breathed, running his tongue across the back of his teeth, tasting a sort of foreign acidity, before fully curling from his perch at her words, letting his eyes dwindle on the Ghost. Softly, slowly, statue like, the boy settled back to his previous position- chin resting on the high chair back, one leg curled beneath him while the other hung, swinging slightly, entranced by the dust veil that played with the fabric a game of tag, swelled by the minuscule currents of wind from the swing of his foot. Again, the boy reveled in such a feeling of mastery, able to create wind enough to sweep away the dirt, an atmosphere all of his own.

And then, through the white noise, as if it had lifted just for them, her words finally reached him, and Que ponderously froze, drifting off into a distant land without a thought, simply staring, staring forwards, ever forwards, always forwards...

A vile sting grew in the back of his throat as the boy blinked, resuming the swinging of his foot in a sluggish movement, stimulating very little flow of air and dust alike. White noise swelled, then receded, and the boy responded in his dry monotone ''never is,'' fascination brewing cold at the strange awareness he had of his jaw bone as it pushed against the high chair back when he spoke. The boy kicked the wheel again, wetting his fingers in a pot of water before clasping his palms upon the cool, grainy surface of the clay, centering it upon the wheel, chin resting quietly on the tall chair back.

As he threw his sun's petal bowl, white noise turned from a tide into a cloak, a rough, oppressive, woolen cloak, pushing down against his head, worming his way into his ears, and its force grew stronger and stronger and with this strength his ghost's grew emboldened, slipping from the walls into the house, growing ever more acute, emotions powerful as they were swept down the street, turbulent souls residing in houses around growing fiercer, sharper, forming geometrical shapes that seemed also to be symmetrical, and the boy worked the clay with an ice cold fury, a tautness to his muscles, a tightness in his fingers as these forces grew over more powerful, and white noise swelled in his ears and pushed and battered and obscured all noise and he closed his eyes yet still he saw ghosts, spread in an ever wider area, statues of an ancient world, stamping their struggle unto his head like seals, never to be erased, drifting, dancing, silent, deafening, euphoric and passive and boiling, outlining with a sharp pen the dull grey of streets and houses, walls, buildings, forces that kept them away, the ghosts of his house multiplied into those of the street, and then the town, and farther, still, foreign seals, stamped upon his brain, and Que's b;ppd glowed a terrifible blue as, before the boy could think, he'd abandoned his clay in favor of tugging his hat with palms dirty with clay and sweat, tugging it low, lower still, until white noise died once more into a simple tide.

Only then did the boy recognize an unmistakable, sour reek of stewing ferocity from the ghost beside him, the one who was always beside him, and it grew only more powerful as Que ran his tongue across his teeth and tasted the grit of rage, and Que grew mad at the ghost and the ghost grew mad at him, reflections amplifying each others emotions as if they were one and the same, while somehow the thought of his mother sulked in his mind as Que wrapped his hands around his hat and tugged it ever lower. Silence- a stand off of anger and frustration.

The boy turned from his chair, aware of genuine surprise as it scratched with a gritty hiss against the floor, for it was as if he had forgotten of the noises of the physical world, and he slipped from the high backed chair with a slight totter and stared past the eyes of the girl, falling farther into a deep slouch. Longing swelled, abrupt speech.

''I put my pots outside today,'' he added, as if an afterthought, head tilting towards the floor, sock kicking lightly a strangely triangular rock. ''Someone saw me. I could feel their surprise. Their fear made me afraid. It always does.''

He kicked it again, relishing in the noises of the physical world, speaking once more, wishing his voice would have that same, sharp tang. It was dull and flat. Surreal. A shaft of frozen light in broken sentences with little variation. White noise threatened to push the world away again, and oh, how the boy wished he had a basilisk mind, where his worries and his phantoms turned to stone with a single shaft of light.

''She was governed by desire.''

He paused at the end of the sentence, reluctant to leave such a broken end. Yet his own voice unnerved him- flat and tasteless, white noise. He settled for kicking the rock again, fulfilling an empty desire.

Dust fell, flat and dull against the floor as Que slouched further, hands hanging lifelessly down, not a twitch to their restless fingers. He turned to walk away, but the walk was aimless, leading to nowhere but silence again after a few steps, staring forwards, ever forwards, listening to the flatline of his heart.

Silence beckoned a last noise.

''Another human.''

And he grew quiet once more.
 
Wait a moment, didn't the snake and the scorpion ask him his name now? Darn, he was so wrapped up in the gold, he barely even noticed them asking! Sometimes, he was thick as a Boldore...was that racist against Boldores? Well, he wasn't actually talking to Boldores, so perhaps that didn't matter right now.

"Uh, sorry Ms. Ponyta, I shouldn't really ask things about where you got your gold. Gold is gold and you used your gold to do a nice thing, so you used it right! But, uh, like you two asked," He directed to Ajani and Diana, "I am Gerald, Gerald Des Appoint! Pleasured to meet you, Ms. Diana and Mr. Ajani. Sorry for not answering your question sooner, it's just the gold...Gold is quite expensive and valuable, and isn't quite found everywhere. Though, why is it so valuable? I mean, it's soft, hard to find, and only redeeming quality is being shiny, so why? Wouldn't something like iron be much more valuable in retrospect? Why give something inherently useless such great value? It confuses me."

The Growlithe didn't seem to realize he ranted on that time. Even if he did, the "damage" was done; the only thing he could do would be apologize. Of course, he hadn't realized it this time, sooo...

"By the by, anything else I should keep an eye out for? I'm always out and about and seeing lots of places, not going in to them mind you, but still going around. Because if you need something found, I can definitely help out! You see, I'm always out looking for a little side-job to tide me over, I haven't found a true job yet. With luck I can find one soon, and-Sorry, sorry, I'm quite bad at going on about those things...In essence, what can I do for you lot?"
-----
Percival's couldn't get any happier. Seriously, this girl was like a glob of clay in his hands, and it was turning into a damned masterpiece! This sheep had the gall to pay half of what that roll of rags was worth! This was a riot, a stand-up comedy show! Oh, his parents were going to despise him after this. Just what he wanted.

"No no, this is fine! Just perfect!" He told the red-haired Mareep, pulling in the money. But then the rabbit noticed it. The look of guilt, contemplation, wonder. Her faltering grin...Of course, his own tool of success was leading him into the wrong path. Damn it! Damn my luck! Damn it to that stupid water dog and back! He told himself. No, wait, he couldn't act angry towards her, that would ruin his coup, and scare her off. Percival had to keep the line going, like some fisherman wrestling the control of his flimsy rod back from a cat fish. He had to get out of this future, he had to, by any means!

He pulled a most innocent (But blatantly faked) face, chuckled a bit, and said "What's wrong? Do you not feel well?"

Though...she said she lived/worked in the infirmary, right? The only ones that lived there was the stinted, the unwanted, the unright in the head. Ones who were broken goods. Perhaps this girl had some stint of her own? A mental patient, perhaps...no, they would lock up a mental patient. This sheep was an utter mystery. Maybe she was a common costumer, but he had never been the clerk while the sheep was there? Maybe when his parents arrived, they'd say the girl's name, or "Hello, our littlest costumer! How are you today?" Or some cheesy thing like that.

Time would tell.
 
Money.

That was what it all boiled down to.

Money.

Money for food, for shelter, for hygiene, for luxury. It wasn’t what Diana craved by nature, but over time she learned to lean on it. To rely on coin for every need. Never before had she questioned her lust for fortune until this very moment, as a chunk of gold sat in her pouch.

The fact that she’d practically drooled at the sight of it made her feel slightly embarrassed. Like she was ashamed for letting such base instinct drive her expressions and emotion. Safe to say this sudden shame was put on display as she cleared her throat and tried to casually stand upright, not realizing just how far she was leaning toward the Ponyta for an answer.

”...it's Ajani. It's a pleasure to meet someone as talented as you are, Ana.”

“Huh?” Diana turned and faced the Drapion again. It took her a moment to register what he’d said, but soon let a smile trace her lips. The tips of her fangs poked out a little bit more as if a reminder of her species. “Oh, yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ajani. I’m very grateful that you’ve enjoyed my dancing.” She slipped her hand into his, avoiding pricking her scales against his sharp claws, then proceeded bow her head graciously.

Turning her attention to the other male, her eyes seemed to widen a little at the next few words that left his mouth.

"I am Gerald, Gerald Des Appoint!”

Gerald Disappoint? Thought Diana, stifling a snicker. It was quite an odd name, but considering how humble he seemed to be, it was somehow fitting. Regardless there was a part of her that hoped he would marry into a new last name. She couldn’t imagine growing up with a name like that to be easy.

Before she could question any further, the Growlithe decided to return to his endearing rambling. Something about gold and its consistency. Needless to say, Diana didn’t spend much time following his words. She let him finish talking then simply placed a finger on his lips as a signal that he need not say more.

“I’m sure Ajani and I both can agree that you needn’t worry about what you can do for us as much as with us. I thank you for your donation, but I believe your kinship has already placed us in your debt.” The Ekans moved her finger away, then proceeded to wear her sincerity proudly via a smile that tugged at her lips.

As much as she enjoyed the money and the friendship so far, there was an itch inside of her that needed to be scratched. Some anchor that stopped Ana from achieving true joy in this occasion. Mind you, she was ecstatic about her luck thus far, but there was still one ingredient that was missing in all of this. In the dreams she’d have about traveling towards the center of the kingdom, there were always three simple concepts that excited her. Friends, money, and…

Silence? Diana thought. For as long as those ideas had been her goals, she didn’t really question the third one until now. This marketplace was far from quiet, and perhaps that was why she wasn’t as happy as she could be.

Look at me, Diana thought to herself with a sigh. I’ve made a lot of money, new friends, and yet I want to file a noise complaint. Perhaps my parents spoiled me too much as a child.

Of course, now that she’d thought about her want for silence, the dancer’s brain started working to come up with all sorts of reasons why she needed silence. She chose the best excuse she could think of, then proceeded rattle her tail one last time.

“I must say, this has been a much more successful endeavor than I’d initially intended. I’m…” Diana felt like she was mentally screaming in delight over seeing the chunk of gold in her pouch one last time. The giddiness she felt was only displayed by a small smile. Other than that, she simply inhaled and exhaled slowly. “...I’m deeply honored to have performed for citizens such as yourselves.”

Diana lifted up her pouch from the ground, which felt satisfyingly heavier now. Her smile turned to a grin as her yellow eyes flicked over the shimmering contents.

“Sadly, I fear I must go so that I may rent a room at a local inn before they are all taken.” She looked to Gerald, then Ajani, “would either of you happen to know a place near here that I can stay? I’m not looking for anything that is too expensive, mind you.”
 
Mai could smell the faint smell of ozone in the air and it was coming from the young man who was standing casually by the prince. She took a moment to study his features noticing in particular his strong red eyes. For a moment she was confused as her mind attempted to process the sight before her. “Could he possibly be a dark type like me? The page shook her head banishing the thought. “No, there is no way anyone of the dark would dare to stand next to royalty so easily nor be so comfortable outside my Lady’s fiery hall. I must not think such horrible things of anyone in this beautiful palace.”

The greninja could smell the ozone again slightly stronger as her keen eyes focused on the man’s fingers. A tiny spark barely visible danced between two fingers as if reflecting something from the inside. That spark made her even more nervous, as her natural instincts kicked in when in the presence of such a counter element to her own and the princes. With some small effort Mai wrenched her gaze off the man and back onto the prince, as she was being addressed once again.

Greetings came from both men almost at the same time and Mai had a moment of panic. Of course prince Salem had to outrank the other man, but she felt it would be unbearably rude to ignore the introduction of the red eyed lion before her. He clearly held some position of no small important from his dress and bearing.

Finally Mai decided the best way to handle the situation was to visibly address the young man, but to verbally respond to the prince. Mai swallowed and nodded her head toward the lion quickly as she spoke to Salem. “I do not understand why you would wish my company your highness, but of course I have no objections.” Her mind raced in a tight circle, as she waited for the Prince’s response.

“What does prince Salem even want with me? I don’t understand. He may have told me I could say no but I would never say no to the Prince. I just hope he tells me what my task for him will be soon.” Her mind drifted back to Lady Alize. “My lady did not argue, well he is the prince after all, and even she would not defy him. I am sure that her wrath will befall me later when the Prince is done with me though.”
 
Location: Suimera, Royal Palace, Chambers of Countess Alizé
Time: Morning
Tagging: Salem, Mai-Ling, Kane, Zoya
----------​

“Oho!” Salem exclaimed joyfully at the Greninja’s response.

“Questioning my decisions and not even properly facing me while you address me?” he asked, feigning shock.

In truth, the Prince could not have been more pleased. The girl had seemed so very timid but clearly had some defiance in her, that or she was not yet fully versed on proper etiquette. Whichever it was, it pleased him greatly. Between the frog and the lion he was sure to get some interesting interaction out of them, the latter especially seemed particularly uncaring and could potentially be pushed to lash out at him.

‘I might finally get to hear an honest opinion from someone today,’ Salem thought, already making plans of how he could subtly annoy the stoic man.

‘Let’s start with a kiss from a frog,’

His long, elegant tail was already snaking across the floor and rising up before the kneeling page as if with a life all its own, but right before he could wrap the girl up a stern voice echoed down the corridor.

“Your majesty!”

Salem froze like a deer caught in headlights, his head ducked down and his eyes wide. For all his want to have someone yell at him he was woefully unprepared to deal with it when it happened. Slowly the prince turned around to see who had called out to him, but he already knew the answer. Aside from his mother, who could but never would, there was only one other person who would dare yell at him.

The Prince settled his eyes on the statuesque Empoleon woman with her long black hair and three golden blond locks running through it. She wore the immaculate dark blue outfit denoting her position as head of the serving staff with a long plated skirt and coat tailed jacket over a fine white shirt tied together with a blue tie. Small spectacles and a stern frown completed her appearance. The woman was not particularly tall, but she somehow always felt really large.

“Zoya?” Salem asked timidly when he found his voice again.

He felt like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and while his initial reaction was as one would expect, he quickly felt himself flush with joy. Madam Zoya always gave him real interaction, but unfortunately she was usually too busy to spend any time on him and would usually send her daughter Irina instead. Irina had the potential, Salem was sure, but he still always had to trick her into honest responses. Poor Ajax had to pay the price for that this morning.

“It is a pleasure to see you, as always,” Salem said with his usual grin in place.

“I can’t say the same for you, you troublesome prince.” Zoya replied briskly as she walked up to him with long purposeful strides.

“You, are supposed to be in the dressing chambers for a fitting,” she said sternly, emphasizing the ‘you’ with a prod in his chest.

Salem shrugged.

“That was seven days ago,” he replied casually.

“Exactly!” the Empoleon almost shrieked. She took a deep breath and continued in a more level manner.

“I know for a fact that several girls have delivered you my messages, Irina included.”

“They have,” the Prince admitted.

“Then why haven’t you gone yet? The tailor is in a state of distress, thinking you are unsatisfied with her work, and no longer sure she is going to be able to finish your outfits in time. And stop grinning!”

Salem’s smile dimmed for a whole second before it lit back up. He briefly entertained the idea of telling Zoya in front of the others that he indeed hated the stuffy costumes he was often forced to wear for official ceremonies, and no doubt the stuffiest costume would be made for the ‘most important’ ceremony. Instead, he rolled his eyes and swept an arm out to indicate Kane and Mai.

“I have been busy, and as you can see I have guests now,”

Zoya did not even spare the other two a glance, she knew exactly who they were. She knew everyone in the palace by name and station.

“Kane Caspian, the Architect and Mai-Ling, personal page to the Countess,” she recited. “Palace staff do not count as your guests your majesty, they are not going anywhere. So please go to get yourself outfitted before the tailor has a fit and I a stroke.”

“Fine…” Salem said with as much exasperation as he could muster. “Can I as least keep the girl? She’s free for the rest of the day and so very pretty.”

“No you may not,” Zoya said sternly. “I actually need her to run me an errant to make up for the time I wasted chasing you down.”

With that she reached into her skirts and pulled out a pencil and notepad. She quickly scribbled down; ‘Go and enjoy the festivities in town. Do not return before dusk. Have fun.’ On a piece of paper, tore it free, folded it up and knelt down to press it in the frog girl’s hands. While down there she grabbed hold of the tip of the Dragonair’s tail, which was about to fondle the poor Greninja.

“I will take you there personally so there can be no excuses anymore,” she said firmly, and without waiting any longer she started walking, tugging on the Prince’s tail, forcing him to follow after her.

Salem waved his goodbye at the Architect and the Page, then sighed audibly as he fell in stride with the older woman.

“You know I hate these fittings,” he mumbled softly when they were out of earshot.

“I know,” Zoya responded softly, almost apologetically, “but it needs to be done.”

Salem gave her a sideways glace. In many ways this woman had raised him, arguably more so than his own mother had, who had always been bogged down by her other child… The Kingdom of Suimera.

“You are so strict sometimes,” he told her.

“I know,” the Empoleon replied again in the same tone, her gaze straight ahead.

A moment of silence passed as they rounded a corner into the corridor leading to the royal wing.

“Thank you Zoya,”

“You are very welcome, my Prince.”
 
Click.
Click

Twitch.
Twitch.

“Questioning my decisions and not even properly facing me while you address me?” Prince Salem spoke to the greninja, with a shocked expression.

"Tch, you little stuck up..." Kane muttered under his breath in response to the Princes seemingly superior demeanor, pausing at the last moment just in case the Salem might have heard him.

A stern voice echoed through the hall and the Electric Gijinka snapped his head immediately to the source of the voice, an Empoleon, long black hair, royal-esque attire, she was without a doubt high ranking. Kane's suspicions were confirmed when the piercing voice spoke to the Prince in such a way that she would have been given the death penalty, if she were a regular palace-goer that is. 'Ehhh. Have I seen her somewhere before?' The Luxray inquisitively thought as he traced her face with his eyes. The Empoleon certainly seemed to know him, going by what she said.

After the events that unfolded, involving Salem and Zoya, Kane hastily snapped his fingers, causing a wild spark to fly out and land in front of the Greninja facing behind him. It seemed to be a bad habit of his, creating electricity without any regard for peoples safety. That wasn't true though, he wore rubber-plated gloves for a reason, right? "Bye, Greninja-Girl." Kane said in his rough voice as his leather boots trotted along the carpet and over to the stairs.

After strolling down the spiral staircase, Kane finally found himself in his office, back in his usual wooden chair, in front of his leather clad desk.

"What to do. What to make." He exclaimed while staring intently at his inventions plastered across the wall. With all of his work done, Kane wished to engage in his favorite pass time, although, the hardest part of building an invention, to him at least, was the beginning process.

Sparking an idea.

There were many sources Kane had gotten inspiration from in the past, most of it was usually just ideas and random thoughts that, for some reason, he desired to bring to life. The shocking lion let out a heavy sigh as he balanced the wooden chair he sat on, on its two hind legs.

Kane laid his head back and stared through the window, upside-down.

"Perspective is a weird thing. The more you look at something, the harder it gets to see." He stated, quoting a book that he had read possibly ages ago. He didn't exactly grasp the full meaning of the text, but it was still interesting none the less.
Kane gnawed on a pencil, using his small, but sharp fangs to create small dents in it. Personally, he preferred writing with lead rather than ink. Ink was hard to wash off once it dried, but lead on the other hand was a whole different story and could easily be removed with a bit of rubber at any time.

'THUD'

After about five minutes of useless pondering, Kane inevitably lost the balance on his chair and fell on his back.
"Bloody chairs, stupid, useless, idiotic things..." The list of curses went on while he tidied up and rearranged some of the furniture in the room.

This was a rare case, but he had decided to go outside and perhaps find something that would liven up his imagination a bit. It seemed that within the past couple months, his inspiration had been dwindling. It didn't worry him, because he chose not to pay any attention to it.

Kane firmly planted his feet on the wooden floor and opened the door before heading down the stairs and letting himself out on to the pavement of the outer palace yard.

The cool breeze certainly helped to free Kane of the constant sweat he was coated in for the entire time he was in Alize's quarters. He never knew how fire types could tolerate such hot temperatures, the answer was obvious though. It was because they were fire types.

Out of all the stone buildings and marble doors, a man caught the Luxray's attention further down the path. It was a knight, and by the blades he was wielding it seemed to be a Gallade. Kane was quite knowledgeable on the different species in the kingdom, knowledge that most people didn't have.

The electric type took a hand out of his pocket and gave a little wave to the Gallade as he approached. Just to make sure he seemed at least somewhat sociable. Keeping up appearances was one of his little obsessions after all.
 
Cassandra saw the boy’s pause, draped limply over a chair seated backwards. Like a sheet, a tattered, forgotten, and dust coated sheet cast to hide protect the furniture underneath. A ghost house. That was exactly what this was, and it was only natural, for she who dwelled in the darkness, fraternized with ghosts, and everything that belonged in the darkness. Things that were simply out of place in the light. “Never is.” He told her, and she knew her thought rang true. They were out of step, out of time, apart from everything else around them. A different world. Watching from the outside in.

And the reason was simple; simply because all the beautiful things hid in the darkness.

In this instance, it was the boy’s hands. She watched the way they moved, how his long fingers molded the lump of clay into wonderful shapes, uncanny, and enchanting in his work. Her head tilted to the side, resting itself upon the palm of her hand with a contemplative hum, synchronizing with the creaks of the rocking chair beneath her. She watched him move, read his repulse, his sudden shift as he pulled at his head, the hat hiding his face, and watched it sink over his eyes.

Then she watched him turn, listened to the chair grating against the floor with fluttering ears, and drawing yet another hum from her throat. “Hmm…” It went, followed by the upwards curl of her lips when their eyes fell upon each other to hold a one sided gaze. For he looked, but did not see. No, he saw beyond, and she wondered what was there. He drifted by, stirring the dust collected on the floor consumed by age. The arch of his back curved ever further, like a mountain erecting itself from the ground. “I put my pots outside today,” He began, and Cassandra relished in his sound, her only relief from the omnipresent silence. She recalled the youth in his voice, the lightness, the gentle rasp. It was always there, though buried underneath the skeletons in the closet, it brought her back to his company each time, kept her lingering for moments longer than necessary. “Someone saw me. I could feel their surprise.

It was then she realized he had been kicking something with his food, but it was hidden from sight by the layers and layers of dust that threatened to choke her softly. “She was governed by desire.” A dull knock in the back of her head. Her ears twitched on instinct, and they triggered the twitch within her right eye, and finally, the twitch of her lips into a grimace turned grin. “Another human.

“What? You mean my mother?” The Liepard slipped free from the caving chair still rocking from her momentum. A gentle laugh leaves her lips, parted to allow the melodious sound free. Her steps light and soundless, she floated across the floor with her cloak trailing enigmatically behind. Her tail danced, curling, and flicking as she swerved around his side, grasping one hand, then the other, as she faced him fully. Cassandra halted his retreat, lacing her plush, furred fingers with his translucent, blue veined, clay coated ones. “You went outside today?” Her voice was different then. Quieter- no, softer. Gentler. As were her eyes, as they peered past the tassels of his hat.

Cassandra hooked the sickle-like end of her tail to the rim of his hat, lifting it upwards and parting the tassels to glimpse those paling blue eyes, sunken and large on his pale face. Her pupils had dilated, catching more light in the dark, and her irises glowed, luminescent in the shadows. She showed him her fangs, and calmly, purposefully, she lifted their hands up to their chest level. “I’d say that calls for a celebration. It’s quite an achievement after all.”

With a tug from her hands, she pulls him forward, barely grazing the limits of his space. Humming, “How about a dance?” in a thoughtful whisper, and her lips pull wider into a playful grin. Inches away, before she could enter his space and he could enter her’s, she frees her left hand, while her right hand raises his over his head, though she could only raise so high with her height, despite his slouch, and twirled him with another gentle laugh from her lips.

Following the completion of his spin, Cassandra caught the boy’s loose hand within her paw, and led him further into her dance. A trail of stumbling, uncoordinated movements that the dust try to follow. “Bon travail, ghost boy.” She hums, as they pause at the center of the room where she lowers her head, and hid beneath her fringes as the emotions bounce and damage the interior of her hollow chest, squeezing free the adrenaline from the hours before, and flooded instead by the fatigue suddenly gripping her muscles.

“Bon travail…” Came her final laugh, soft and hushed. “Maybe you’d follow me outside someday, hm?”

-

“GACK, MY BLOODY BACK!’ Exclaimed a raspy, masculine voice, cracking , shifting from its low to a sudden high much like a juvenile male when their voice begins to break, followed shortly by the sound of wood colliding against the ground with their dull thump. “Ooooh, you’ve really done yourself in this time, Ramon!”

In that empty, forgotten road, the Mr Mime leaned back on his heels, hands against his back to soothe his ruptured spine. A wooden cart stood behind him loaded with barrels of beer and wine, cans of fresh milk, and crates of raw ingredients for cooking. With all the new business coming in thanks to the folks coming in from out of town, his supplies had depleted as soon as he opened his doors. Of course, it also helped that he had his two beautiful Mime Jr daughters to help, but it was for the exact reason why he had always been the one tasked with restocking the pantry. He simply could not have his daughters wandering these lonely shortcuts to the market on their own.

Unfortunately, as age slowly crept up his tired bones, such tasks grew ever arduous by the day, and his cart could only carry so much. He normally had them delivered nowadays, but with the amount of business piling in, shops have all grown shorthanded, stretched paper thin, and in order to keep his own business running, it was one of the necessary evils he needed to endure. That young Gallade boy surely would have been much needed help. He could only keep his fingers crossed that he would make good on his word, and come back for the late night rush hour.

“Oh, you’re really getting old now…” Groaned the aged man miserably. He was so clearly out of his prime, bald on top and sporting liver spots, why did he even think he could make the delivery himself? Oh, that’s right, because the income would fund those new additions to the house he’s been struggling to tie over. Young women need their own space after all, right? “The things I do for my daughters… Alright, here we go, up you go Ramon!” He had barely bent his knees properly to pick up those wooden handles when his old joints once again gave away with subtle cracks and pops and the man once again whined out in pain. “Akh! That smarts!”

Grimacing as he straightens himself, a bright, shiny object catches his attention from the corner of his eyes. Turning his head, lo and behold, a guard to his rescue! Big and strong and clad in shining armor, he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulder. “Oh, thank Suicune! Hey! Hello! Mister guard sir!” With skinny legs spread rather wider than comfortable and locked still in their bent position, he hobbled closer.

“I’m in desperate need of assistance, sir!”

-

“Geez, why did I have to be the sucker stuck with the chores?” Lamented the Gallade knight as he trudged up the levels to the palace’s nuclear grounds, a place that always seemed to have greener grass and clearer waters than the rest of the kingdom, heck even the palace inner city. That is, discounting the lake waters outside of the capitol. “They could’ve assigned it to the greenhorns, but no, they pick the one of the highest ranking knights instead.”

He was to deliver a report to Madam Zoya, and submit the note he had received from the merchant to her as well. His boots pounded, scraped, ground, and sparked against the stone pathway. His armor clinked, and rattled, and grinded together at their segments. One could hear him coming a mile away. It was the case with most guards, heavily built and armored, but had he paid more attention to himself, he could easily move as swiftly and quietly as he could with regular clothes. Today had not been the case. His thoughts were far too muddled and feelings far too tangled to give a shadow of a care.

“This is the worst day ever.” Continued his grouchy mumble, followed by a defeated sigh. “Well, at least I got to spend the night with Miss De L’allee, even though she robbed me, how many guys get to say that, right? Right.”

Yet despite himself, he let out another long sigh, metal clad hand latching onto the back of his neck.

As such, he barely even noticed the lightning lion standing right in his path. Waving at that. He halted just moments away from knocking into the poor man, and he blinked himself free of his stupor. Adam straightened himself in an almost frantic manner, cursing himself for his utter disgrace of motion, and cursing yet again when he realized who it was he nearly knocked into.

“Sir Caspian.” Well, he could still be proud of his unwavering resolve at least, even before the face of one of the most influential man in the kingdom. Giving a small salute, he continued, “Pardon my ignorance, sir. I should have paid more attention to where I was going.”
 
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“That is to say, if you fail to deliver, we will have to blacklist you permanently.” Kuniik gave a gracious, and respectful bow to the Gallade, "Rest assured that the goods you require will be gathered, and of the highest quality possible. 'Tis something I could easily wager my life upon."
The Gallade was certainly intelligent, but there was a key difference between intelligence, and wisdom. The Zoroark could see the gleam in his eye when the Gallade had patted himself on his back for figuring out his intentions before Kuniik had expressly stated them.

What the Gallade would never realize is that Kuniik wasn't simply going to rely on the castle, but make it so the castle relied on him. The Zoroark was the best merchant in town, and he had almost created a monopoly in his short time of being one. Most of the goods that they required were already in the Zoroark's possession. Numbers ran through his head in a flash before he gave a confident smirk. "Given your limited time, I shall do one more favor to you all. These items will be procured within a day at the agreed price. We cannot keep her majesty waiting can we?"

With this, the Zoroark excused himself saying, "Now that is a deal I am willing to bet my life upon~." Kuniik left, the door slamming shut announcing his exit before the Gallade could get another word in.

As he exited the grounds of the castle, he allowed himself to smirk. Everything was as expected, and everything was going exactly as he'd imagined. Kuniik closed his eyes, and pictured the list he had handed back to the guard. He remembered every word on it, and could immediately start procuring the goods that he did not currently possess.

When Kuniik got back to his shop, he immediately went to work. With clean neat, and quick handwriting Kuniik wrote out a few requests, and signed his name. The Zoroark's name alone was enough to add haste to the supplier's step. The majority of Kuniik's dealings were legitimate, and tended to turn a profit for both parties. He would buy food in bulk, and sell it at a fraction of the price to mistypes. Much less went to waste, and even less was stolen this way. Having grown up as a mistype himself, he knew that most of the people who stole did so out of necessity. This competitive pricing for food also tended to cause other merchants to attempt to best him. In the end, they simply did not have the connections, or funding for such deals. He had managed to nearly monopolize the selling of goods to mistypes, and was rather trusted among them. For any waste in food he simply told his vendors to give it away for free. Many had thought he was crazy for having fed the low lives that were the homeless, but being homeless himself Kuniik knew there was an untapped work force. He could pay a much lower wage to the ones who knew what it was like to have nothing. The less he paid workers for simple jobs, the more competitive his business was.

He did something similar with physical merchandise like clothes, and jewelry. He would invest a large amount, and monopolize the jewelers. After haggling he could buy a massive amount of gold in bulk for only a fraction of the price. When no one else near him sold near the quality of goods he did he could charge whatever price he wanted. He would even occasionally triple the value only to cut the price in half during a sale. Such things were simple tricks for those who had money, but wanted to feel as though they were somehow saving their earnings, and getting a good deal.

In a way, this could be considered stealing from the rich, and giving to the poor. On one end Kuniik helped to feed those who could not afford it. On the other end he was taking an extra 50% of the wealthy's earnings using nothing more than psychological tricks, and charisma. The wealthy simply needed to believe that something had value. Having overly cheap luxuries would cause most to call into question its quality. However, a higher price than other traders caused them to believe his jewelry was a higher quality even if it wasn't true. After all, jewelry, and fine cloth were merely bought in order to brag one's wealth to another. There was nothing of real value aside from their scarcity, and gleam. Paying the extra coin to assure that the item was the proper quality was only natural for those who had been given daddy's wallet.

The Zoroark sent off more notes for trade, and even made sure to send more than one to the same person in the case that the letter was intercepted. Even with his business deals, and tactics Kuniik would still lose money on this deal that he had made to the castle. After running a few numbers quickly through his head, he estimated just how much time it would take for his deal to turn a profit. He was sure that the castle would slowly begin to rely on him more, and more. A tax break for his company would be incredibly useful. While Kuniik would occasionally disguise rocks as gold, he could only do so if he was the one paying the tax. Many times, he had one of his workers handle the dealings when he knew he could afford it. It was quite annoying, and yet it was necessary. Even though they would not be able to trace the illusion back to him immediately, they would be able to see a pattern whenever they collected his taxes. In this world, all that was needed to convict a mistype was an accusation. As such, he needed to be careful, and at least pass himself off as somewhat legitimate.

He had set a time limit for himself that would have been impossible for any other merchant. Kuniik knew that some of his contacts would require more than simply currency, and instead want a trade of goods. The male knew full well that he had more than enough resources to trade with them.
The male took out another piece of parchment, and began to scribble down the list he had memorized. After making a few more, he went to the front counter, and handed the manager of the shop one of the copies. "I'll need these gathered, and in a carriage by tomorrow, no later." He stated firmly as the manager nodded.

For the next hour, Kuniik would take it upon himself to travel to each of his shops, and pass out a copy of the list of supplies. He told each of the managers the exact same command, and was met with a nod. He knew that they would follow his directions with all their effort. He was the one who had saved them from poverty, and paid for the food on their family's tables after all.

The only thing left for Kuniik to do now was to wait patiently.
 
"That was so AWESOME!" The small Pidove Gijinka yelled to his sister. He, of course, was talking about the magician he saw. After walking away from the stand, the kid got so excited that he wouldn't close his mouth for 5 minutes. "Yea it was, PK." His sister responded. PK was his preferred nickname; the child's full name was Pidge Kalter.

His sister had taken him out because he loved to see the people setting up the floats. However, he happened to spot the magician. At first, Pidge's sister was indifferent, a bit worried, about the "mistype". However, she warmed up to him eventually. She had spotted how he did it- or, well, she thought she did- but she didn't want to ruin the illusion. After all, it wasn't too often PK had this much fun.

On the other hand, the kid himself was like a ball of pure energy-an unstoppable force. Ya'know, bouncing off the walls. To him, the trick wasn't a trick. It was magic. He has never seen a magician like that before. Normally, they were psychics, doing magic to a giant audience. However, the magician had a smaller scale. He interacted with them. Honestly, that was the best part.

Walking through the bustling street, the duo came across what they were looking for. The cobble house opened its doors to its residents as the two walked into their home. Their mother had been preparing a meal for the festival soon. They were hosting a small party after the main festivities. However, she made sure to get them some food. Assorted fruits- PK's favorite. He would tell his mother about the magician later. Right now-

He wanted to dig in.
 
Opel was mortified. Stuck in the heat of the moment, she started, staring up to Percival with a stunned expression on her face, orange eyes wide, after he had asked his question. "U-Um..." she stuttered, not being very good at hiding her emotions. "N-No... I'm f-fi-fine..." Wringing her hands together, the Mareep girl reflexively twitched her ears(?), her tail quickly swinging back and fourth in worry. "D-Don't worry a-a-about me-e..."

Quickly, Opel jumped, using one hand to keep herself, for the most part, from falling back onto the floor as she dangled a few feet in the air, the other to try to grab the wool she had paid for, leaving the trinket in its sitting position. As fascinating as she found it, she did not want anything bad to happen due to her taking it with her, so she did not. With her bag of coins in one hand and the wool in the other, both feet now glued to the floor, she let her guilt take over her as she yelled, "I-I-I'M SO S-SORRY!" and booked it out of the shop, tears in her eyes.

Due to not being able to see very clearly, the Mareep gijinka ended up walking away from the infirmary instead of heading back, unsure exactly where she was about to end up. Stumbling about, the short girl felt an oddly soft something come into contact with her face, her tears accidentally disappearing into the fabric. Keeping her rather weak grip on her things, Opel looked up to the face of a woman, purple scales shocking her for whatever reason. "S-Sorry, m-m-miss..." she said to her, sheepishly, moving her coin pouch to her other hand so she could wipe the excess tears from her eyes, backing up multiple steps. "I-I di-didn't s-s-see you there-re..."

Her peripheral vision showed her something she did not, in fact, like at all to see- shops and other buildings she barely recognized. Rarely did she ever go to this half of the town, seeing as everything she needed was either supplied at the infirmary or bought in a close-by, surrounding shop. Freaking out, more tears fell to her cheeks and the ground around her as she whipped her head around, searching for her home. "Oh, NO-O-O!" Opel wailed, collapsing onto the ground mere feet from the woman and whoever she was talking to, her things safely tucked underneath her as she held her face in her hands. "WH-WHE-WHERE A-A-AM I-I!?" she choked out, darting her head around one more time for any sign of the infirmary, but it was too far away and the town was too crowded to see it, not to mention her tears, which also got in the way. "WH-WHE-WHERE'S M-MISS-SS I-IDE-IDE-IDELLA!?" For a moment, Opel glanced back up to the Arbok woman, almost as if she though she would help her, before returning to the hidden spot in her hands.
 
Clink.
Clink.

Clank.
Clank.

Sir Caspian, pardon my ignorance, I should have paid more attention to where I was going."

Kane had already stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he saw the Gallade wasn't moving out of his way. He didn't intend for this to become a full conversation, just a simple pass-by, but as fate would have it, the odds were against him. The Luxray extended his arm out and haphazardly flicked up the knights visor, revealing his eyes and confirming that he was indeed a Gallade.

"First of all, please call me Kane, Caspian kinda sounds weird."

Kane took a step back to observe the knights shining armor. The way metal glistened and greedily reflected the sunlight was always something that intrigued him greatly. How all the bits and pieces came together to form an unwavering barrier of protection against the elements.

"Secondly, you didn't really have to apologize, I personally think knights take priority when it comes to sidewalk etiquette."

It was true, he was kinda jealous. He had always wanted to try on one of those suits of armor. Well, the electric gijinka certainly did have access to make a custom suit of his own, although he was all too often caught up in work and his hobbies.

"Also, if I may ask, what's yer name?"

'Screw it, I might as well make one.' Kane thought as he peered into the Gallades eyes with his own crimson ones, his pupils shrinking ever so slightly. It looked like he had found his next little project to work on.

A slight smirk arose from the corner of his pale face as he placed his hands in his pockets and the wind blew his dark hair back and forth. '
'I guess the odds aren't exactly against me after all.'
 
Adam tensed up rather violently as Kane’s arm extended and flicked his visor upwards. His crimson blades shot out of their custom slits on his armor on great alarm and pure instinct. He should’ve seen that one coming, but his mind was apparently too far out of it to even put two and two together that morning.

"First of all, please call me Kane, Caspian kinda sounds weird."

Well, at least I’m not the only one who thinks so.’ Adam thought begrudgingly, barely able to contain the frown tugging his lips. Luckily he was able to sort those emotions out and prevent such a disaster from happening, and instead, he retracted his blades and responded with a curt nod. This particular higher up of his was definitely... Something. He’s heard that the Luxray was quite an eccentric, confusing individual, but he had never experienced it directly.

Through his visor, Adam watched the architect take a step back to observe him. Well, at least, he inferred it was him the minister was observing. But it could also be very well be his armor, as its glints reflected off the Luxray’s eyes.

His eyes… He’s heard countless rumors about them from the guys back at the mess hall. Supposedly they could see through anything and everything, wood, rock, steel, even lies, and function normally even in pitch black conditions. ‘What an amazing skill to have.’ Adam thought, his mind drifting away. ‘I certainly wouldn’t mind it. It’d certainly help me out at my job.

ESP and moving things with your mind is cool and all, but how cool would it be to never be able to have the wool pulled over your eyes? This architect would’ve made an even better investigator and detective, now that he thought about it.

"Secondly, you didn't really have to apologize, I personally think knights take priority when it comes to sidewalk etiquette."

“Nah, we usually throw ourselves aside and turn into armor displays when the palace big dogs pass by.” Adam mused offhandedly, realizing he’d said everything far too late. “Euh- That is-“

"Also, if I may ask, what's yer name?"

“Adam Greywood, at your service, sir.” He answered quickly. Pick yourself up and brush it off, act like it never happened. But then, Kane’s eyes latched onto his, their vertical slits thinning slightly and there was a powerfully intrusive sensation that dominated his senses almost right away. It was the feeling of having someone look right through your physical shell and straight to your soul. Into your vault of secrets, decoding each one.

He only came to believe it further when the Luxray began to smirk.

Adam felt himself involuntarily break this eye contact by casting his gaze to the side. ‘Suicune, please don’t let him find out about what I did last night. I really don’t need that exposure…

And at that moment, all he could imagine was being trapped in a swarm of male bodies, guards and knights alike, badgering him for information on his night with Miss De L’allee, and how they might score a night with her as well.

-

Her cloak intercepted the gleeful sunlight and cast cool shadows against Cassandra’s olive skin. The fabric was thick, and durable, and it clung to her shoulders reminiscent to a comforting embrace. And there, simply standing in the back alley of the Allein home, a specter straying from the grave, she relished that feeling.

Deep breaths. In, and out. The Liepard lifted her head and set course to the labyrinth of narrow paths ahead.

Swerving left, and right, listening to the faint flutter of her dear cloak, Cassandra made her way downtown via empty alleyways. The morning was quickly growing old, and her light breakfast was not sustaining her as well as she had hoped. At that rate, she might have to stop for brunch, or a heavy lunch.

Well, brunch it is then.’ She thought gleefully, enjoying the weight of the coin pouch hanging from her belt. The thief did not really have a very common view on money. All she knew was that if she had a lot of them, she got to spoil herself anytime and anywhere she wanted.

Money was a lovely thing indeed.

I might visit one of those nicer taverns up north, maybe even order dessert.’ Her ears twitched happily at the thought as she rounded a corner. ‘Something like milk pudding, or perhaps even a slice of strawberry shortcake.

“Oh yes, that does sound nice.” Cassandra purred softly with her fingers against her lip, decorated with a smile. She could already taste the sweet confections on her tongue, and her eyes glinted with delight as exited the alleys and converged with the crowds on the main streets. Aside from her addiction to thrill seeking and heart breaking streak, her guilty pleasure happened to be satisfying her sweet tooth. If she were lucky, those sugary treats would lend her the same highs as an adrenaline rush. A sugar rush, she believed it was called.

Sure jewellery and gems were pretty, but at the end of the day, they were simply dead, and cold, with nothing else to offer but their shimmer.

She would rather have a full stomach.

Lost in her thoughtful lament, Cassandra found she had strayed slightly from where she wanted to be. Instead of the food area, she had walked several paces too far into the trading district, where shops sold tradable goods such as raw textiles, clothing, and furniture. She diverged from the flow of the crowd to press against a storefront while her eyes shifted quickly from one side to the other, attempting to reorient herself as fast as she could.

But that was exactly when the door of the storefront opened, and out came a crimson haired male with sharp, luminescent blue eyes. He towered well over her, and made him seem all the more powerful. His gray ears stood erect on his head and his clothes were sharp, seemingly tailored by the most skilled hands in Suimera, and after only a moment, she decided he belonged in the palace, with all the other pretty dolls that undoubtedly wandered its halls.

That is, before she noticed the disturbingly similar vibe he possessed. The overwhelming aura of cruelty. Darkness. And it was then she finally registered him as a mistype just like herself. Another dark type, yet apparently faring much better than she could ever dare to dream. Not that she could ever remember her dreams anyway.

Successful Dark Type?’ Cassandra wondered in the midst of wracking her head for something that rang a bell. She succeeded. And her pupils dilated as a grin pulled at her lips.

“My, my.” She purred, her silver irises now closely glued to the male’s handsome face. Leaned enticingly against the windowsill of the shop, she turned sideways to face him fully, pressing her side against the wall as her slender tail swept from beneath her cloak to part their edges, comfortably hinging one of them behind her hip. And she crossed her arms before continuing, “Might you be the famous Kuniik Ordel?”
 
Rattle.
Rattle.

Tink.
Tink.


Two dark crimson blades shot out of thin slits in Adam's armor as his visor went up, he immediately tensed up. Kane wasn't startled, he was even more intrigued in fact. The reaction time of a fighting type was absolutely spot on, and with the added perk of being a knight, this Gallade was certainly no exception.

As the architect stated something about sidewalk etiquette that he really didn't care about, he got quite an interesting response.

Nah, we usually throw ourselves aside and turn into armor displays when the palace big dogs pass by.

Kane let out a small bit of laughter before he spoke, "Palace dogs, armor displays, ha, funny.", a pause and a sigh followed afterwards. "Yes, very funny."

'Palace dogs indeed, my steel clad compatriot.'

By this time, Kane had locked eyes with Adam, who was showing increased signs of discomfort because of the man and his piercing gaze. If the electric type could read peoples minds, he would have by now. Seeing through solid objects is cool and all, but psychic abilities like telekinesis would be pretty neat, and extremely helpful in his line of work.

Adam involuntarily tore his pupils away from those of his higher-up, causing Kane's already present smirk to grow even more. He absolutely loved the feeling, the sensation of knowing you are better than someone else, knowing that you're not in the presence of them, but they are in the presence of you. It was kind of like a god complex, but not really. He absolutely loved to be in control of everyone and everything, that was, if they could be controlled. Kane was painfully aware of this, and often decided it to be one of his worse traits among many, therefor causing him to hide it, for the most part anyway.

Old habits kicked in once again as a small spark came flying outward from Kane's fingers when he subconsciously clicked them together every couple of seconds. The architect slowly and calmly walked circles around Adam, occasionally prodding at a piece of his sturdy armor when he came across something that looked loose and absorbed the information he got from the knights reactions. It was obvious to him that this man was a well oiled machine, with a lot of killing potential. Well, he was a knight after all.

After a good few circles Kane stopped in front of the Gallade and slid his hands into his pockets to restrain them from inspecting any further. Yeah, it may have seemed a bit rude to do something like that, but to be absolutely, completely and utterly honest with himself, he couldn't care less what the Gallade gijinka thought of him.

"Adam, you seem a little bit distressed. Is everything alright? Did something happen last night?"

'This guy seriously wouldn't be this nervous if he didn't have something to hide.' Kane said to himself in the midst of all his thoughts.
 
Adam wasn't quite sure what to make of Kane's previous laughter to his verbal blunder. But it certainly got to the knight quite a bit.

What got to him even more, however, was how he could simply feel the architect's smirk broaden. How he sparked electricity with each compulsive click of his finger. But most of all, he was put off by the way the male started circling around him. No, put off wasn't quite the right word. He was unhappy. Uncomfortable, and certainly impatient. Honestly, what is with feline gijinkas and circling people anyway? He's seen Lady Alize do it, and it always scared the crap out of the poor suckers who had the unfortunate fate of being subjected to it, well, except maybe General Delago, and heck, even Miss De L'allee had done so as well. Maybe it was a predator thing? What did this guy want from him anyway? Didn't he know he had something important to do?

Oh, what was it again?

Something about a piece of paper, something... Something...

The Gallade began to tap his foot anxiously against the ground, and involuntarily let out a grunt and subtle flinch every time the minister of development began to prod his armor. 'Is he checking me out?' Adam couldn't help but wonder offhandedly, and cold sweat ran down his back. He really didn't want to become that guy who's a higher up's boy toy. Not that there was anything wrong with that, he was just certain he wouldn't survive the merciless teasing he would receive from the guys. Plus, the last time he checked, he was very much interested in women- no, he had something important to do!

Back on his original train of thought, he retraced his steps until he found it. 'That's right, I have to report to Madam Zoya. But, wait, ah shit. This guy out ranks her. If I leave without being dismissed, Zoya is definitely chewing my ear off. And then the general will do that for real.' He thought bitterly.

"Adam, you seem a little bit distressed. Is everything alright? Did something happen last night?"

The knight choked on his own spit, and it was then he finally realized that Kane had finished circling him, and had returned to his position in front of him. His words had hit the nail on the head, the bullseye, or whichever term you prefer, and once again his intense gaze made Adam squirm, mentally, of course, a knight must never show his discomfort. Thankfully his armor hid the fact he was sweating bullets very well, and he quickly flicked down his visor with a weak telekinetic force the moment he began to feel his cheeks heat up.

"That's, um-..." His throat felt unusually dry. It was almost as if the Luxray had just read his mind! But that couldn't be true, he was supposed to be a pure electric type, right? Well, maybe his mom was an Espeon or something, and he inherited the ability- it doesn't matter! He was still in deep shit! Curse the sacred knight code! He can't lie! 'What am I supposed to say? That I got robbed and lost all my coins? I wouldn't be lying... Except, it didn't really happen that night, it's a loophole, right?'

But once he once again locked gazed with Kane, his hopes sank. 'Ah, who am I kidding? I can't weasel my way around this guy. Let's just hope he can keep a secret...'

"Are you... Familiar with Miss De L'alle?"
 
Never one for simply sitting, and doing nothing, the Zoroark decided it was good for him to take a walk around the town. As he exited one of his shops, he crossed paths with the Leipard beauty that was Cassandra.
My my, such a shapely young vixen that one He thought to himself as he passed. Surely those looks are but a lure to a much more dangerous trap~
The Zoroark was rather wise to the ploys of beautiful women. However, that didn't mean he stopped himself from appreciating a fine body, but rather that he was the one in control. As the Zoroark passed by, he heard her call out his name, only confirming his suspicions. For a moment, the Zoroark considered the entertainment. It was always fun to toy with the ones who thought they were toying with him. It was almost as fun as seeing the lewd side of a pure maiden, or breaking a proud warrior. Before he allowed himself to indulge further in his sadistic nature, he considered simply to keep walking, and ignore the Leipard. Certainly, that would show her immediately that she was not in control of him, and would need to try harder to get his attention. He was a busy man after all, and though this was his free time she did not know that. If he were to keep walking, she would most likely follow, and continue to try to get his attention, or simply shrug, and never see him again. Either outcome mattered not to the Zoroark, but quality entertainment was hard to find these days.

These thoughts, and considerations ran through Kuniik's mind in the matter of mere moments. Such things were second nature to him as he had made similar decisions so many times in the past. Right now, it was time to choose whether or not he would open up this Pandora's box, or simply leave it be.

With a smirk, he came to his conclusion; The world was so much less boring after Pandora's box was opened. Turning at his heel, the Zoroark wore an interested expression. His eyebrow raised, and his body language was relaxed. As his crystal blue eyes turned to look at the Leipard he slipped his hand in his suit pocket. His eyes were analytical, and always seemed to stare straight through the person he looked at, as if gazing upon their very soul. He took his hand from his pocket, and pulled out a watch, checking the time before directing his piercing eyes back at the Leipard once more.

"I see my own reputation precedes me, I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting such a pristine beauty such as yourself. Since you already know my name, I suppose all that's left is to tell me yours?" He put his hand over his stomach, and gave a slight gracious bow in greeting, his eyes still gazing at her.
 
The strapping man turned swiftly on his heel, and it immediately communicated to her an air of urgency, purpose, and utter control. Yes, this man certainly had a unique air around him, one she did not often come by in her escapades. He graces her with those sapphire irises wearing an intrigued facade, but that hadn't meant she missed the ghost of a smirk he diminished just moments ago, and the sharpness, the focus he held in his intense eyes contradicted greatly with the relaxed stance his body had taken on. That was how she knew it a lie. This man, he was testing her.

And she loved it.

There was a vibe to him. Something of superiority, dominance, and... Danger. A desire to always be on top, with sadistic pleasures. She could name it all one by one because it was a look she had grown personally familiar with each time she looked in the mirror, the only qualities she saw in the people she had grown up with. And what a deliciously irresistible mix it was. She lived for danger, after all. It always sent her heart pumping and adrenaline rushing through her veins, numbing her of everything else that did not matter. It was her drug, and she was certainly addicted.

And she decides that she liked this man.

With her own, contemplative gaze, she observed the way he slid his hand into his pocket while his eyes traced the silhouette of her form, and she could not help the faint grin pulling at her lips, revealing rows of her pearly white teeth. Ah yes, all they ever saw was the pretty packaging. It was all about branding. And she was sure a merchant like himself knew that very well.

"I see my own reputation precedes me, I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting such a pristine beauty such as yourself. Since you already know my name, I suppose all that's left is to tell me yours?" He offers her a bow in greeting, ever reminding her of the beautifully groomed dolls that she imagined would wander the palace grounds. Kissing the hands of maidens, captivating them, and spoiling them rotten. 'Tempting.' The Liepard thought. 'But what dull a life that would be.'

And with an absent flick of her tail, she shifted to lean against her back, laughing gleefully as she squared her shoulders in order to bury her grin against them with a quick turn of her head. Facing away from him, ears pressed to the top of her head, her arms uncrossed, and she let them hang limply by her sides.

"Cassandra De L'allee." She purred with a distinct accent that simply allowed the words to flow ever more musically from her lips. "But, most refer to me as, Miss De L'allee." With that, she peered playfully at him from the corner of her eyes, meeting his ever intense gaze. She drank in his handsome features, and wondered if despite his fancy garb and refined mannerisms, he still held the mischief a Dark Type deep down. Outside of her night time shenanigans, Cassandra did not quite have anything interesting to do with her time. She had retired from her pickpocket ways, and frankly she needed to keep her image clean. Well, relatively so. All she really needed to do on a daily basis was finding a meal, but she figured she needed to shed those extra pounds anyway.

And so, her slender, limber tail snaked its way across the distance between them and up to coil loosely around the Zoroark's free hand. She beckoned him forward, ever so gently, and she tilted her head back slightly just to meet his eyes. Cassandra was not the tallest female in all of Suimera, but her size never deterred her. It only motivated her further. "I hope I'm not keeping a busy man such as yourself from matters far more important than playful banter with a stranger."

"But,"

Her tail tugs him down, and she leans up, just enough for her to be able to reach his ear to playfully whisper, "Let me tell you a secret..." She pulls back slightly and pierces her own gaze into his, observing his reaction and picking up the pieces of his encrypted thoughts and compiling them together into utter nonsense she would decode later on. But right now, she was more interested in playing with her new found playmate. And what a special playmate was he. This pause lasted for but a few mere moments, before she tugged a smirk on the corner of her lips and she leaned back in to continue,

"I actually... Don't care." She giggles, and her tail swiftly uncoils themselves from his wrist, readily catching it in her paw before it could drop further. "You see, I've always been a little selfish." At this, she quirks her slender little nose with the grin pulling wider across her face. "And right now, I'm rather bored. So won't you spare some time to play a little game with me?"
 
Extreme anxiousness is probably an emotion that would best describe what Adam was feeling at this moment, and nobody knew that better than Kane. The very instant the knights visor was tipped downward by a psychic force, Kane let out a short, eerie chuckle.

"That's, um-..."

"So something did happen? Do tell." The electric type responded in his rough voice.

Adam was quite easy to read, even will all of that clunky metallic stuff coating his body, it didn't do very well to hide the fact that he was getting really uncomfortable. This seemed to happen quite a bit when Kane talked to people, he'd either get angry or assert some form of dominance over them.

"Are you... Familiar with Miss De L'alle?"

Kane slowed his breathing for a second to churn through his memory banks in order to find the info he was looking for.
'Miss De L'alle?... De L'alle, De L'alle, De L'alle... Aha! The Liepard.' He thought, repeating the name over and over in his head as to not forget it again.

"A popular rumor among men, Cassandra De L'alle, correct?" Kane asked while he straightened his posture. He hadn't really heard much about the woman to be exact, only that she was a Liepard. A dark type. A mischievous dark type at that.

The Luxray cleared his throat as his blazing curiosity was lit aflame. Like a moth to a light, he spared absolutely no time in asking questions about this enigmatic woman.

"I honestly don't remember much, so why don't you give me a little refresher course on who she is and what she does. Also, please tell me what Cassandra did to you, and where."

Kane grabbed ahold of one of the metallic rings on his arms and gave it a little jolt of electricity. It lit up, and began to glow an extremely bleached yellow. You could barely see it in the sunlight, but soon after, the other rings followed and it became slightly more obvious.

The architect clicked his fingers once and stopped, but this time, a wild bolt of surging electricity came flying out and into the air before transitioning somewhere into the pavement behind him. This was one of Kane's best inventions, he didn't really have a name for it, but it functioned like a conductive power amplifier, if that made sense. It allowed him to jump higher, run faster and hear better. He activated it not for those reasons though, more to strike fear into the knight in front of him.

"Tell you what, if you answer me. I'll send you off so you can do whatever you need to do. You're obviously in a hurry, right?" Kane stated, trying his best to show off his more eccentric side a little bit.
 
As the Leipard told him what he wished to know he committed the name to memory. He could see they both had a lot in common, which is why he only further enjoyed the idea of playing with her. His hand was tugged forward, and he allowed it to be so. It was obvious to him that they both knew they were already lusting after one another. Just as she could see his eyes gaze over her figure, he could see the Leipard do the same. Such a thing was not something Kuniik would have hid as he was usually one to take what he wanted for himself.

"I hope I'm not keeping a busy man such as yourself from matters far more important than playful banter with a stranger."

"Oh, thank you for the courtesy, I am a rather busy man today." He remarked apathetically as he continued to watch her with his striking eyes. He was then tugged towards her by her tails, and met with her gaze.

"But I actually...Don't care"
To this, Kuniik smirked, "I thought not~ It appears you've caught me in my free time then. Remember not to waste it~"

"You see, I've always been a little selfish...And right now, I'm rather bored. So won't you spare some time to play a little game with me?"
The Zoroark kept himself composed on the outside, but his heart jumped in excitement. He roughly tugged the Leipard towards him, his face close to hers, and his eyes staring straight into hers. "Only if you're not afraid of losing my dear~" He mused, letting her go, and showing his sharpened canine with a smirk. "What sort of game do you have in mind?" It would be a lie for Kuniik to say that he wasn't intrigued by the Leipard. She hadn't stolen anything off of him even though he'd purposely made it easier for her to do so. Surely she was after something much more than a simple coin purse. Perhaps status, or filling a more... base... desire? It was obvious that the Leipard saw the mischief within him, so it wasn't too outlandish to imagine she simply wanted to be entertained.

Yes indeed this game was what she was looking towards as her entertainment, and this woman seemed to be one that could be a powerful contact in the future. At least, this is what Kuniik could gather from first impressions alone. However, he had never been wrong about a promising ally. From her appearance, and actions alone, not to mention the fact that she shared his typing, he could tell that they possibly had more in common than either of them realized. Despite this, Kuniik knew to keep his wits about him, as meeting a person similar to himself was both a blessing, and a threat.
 
So there was nothing wrong with the girl. Apparently. Hmmm. Percival told himself. Is she duping me or am I duping her? As he examined her, however, she lept for the cloth he clutched to, and turned for the door.”Hey, wait, what are y-” He abruptly silenced himself as she yelled out her apology, hunkering down from the noise. As the son of a Lopunny and Swoobat, over sensitive hearing was another one of his…”Gifts.”

And this sheep had just the right enough yell to upset them.

By the time Percival recovered, she was gone. Just...disappeared into the crowds outside.

And last time he checked, she did not have the little toy that he was bartering his freedom on.

Forgetting about how she “scammed” the price of the cloth, Percival found an upset twitch form on his right eye. And then he just went ballistic. With help from his arms, he vaulted himself over the counter, with a infuriated grunt. Next, he routed through the shelves for the gold-painted piece of tin that made up the trinket the Mareep ever so desired. Then, the young Lopunny threw it upon the ground, with an unsatisfying “tink”.

But did he stop there? No, his revenge had not been exacted yet. With several stomps, the toy became a thin disk of it’s former self. And angry gibberish that he had been spewing transformed into nasty coherent words, mainly “Fuck”. And Percival spewed those words out like some type of sailor, before culminating in a “FUCK THIS-”.

However, he never finished this sentence. No, because he was interrupted by a ringing of the bell, and a Lopunny and Swoobat strolled in. They didn’t look happy. “Percival,” The Swoobat asked. “Where did you learn such foul language?”

It was at that moment Percival realized he was in pretty deep shit.
-----
Did...He rant on again?

Diana had raised a finger to her lips in response to him talking, so he assumed he must've gone on about some...money, was it? Yeah, that had to be it. Ah, he was really terrible with that. Never mind it, never did any harm, the fox had told him. To ne fair, it had never hurt anyone yet, so Gerald had no reason to doubt ol' June.

Anyways, the Ekans had resumed talking, thanking him, the horse, and scorpion for their patronage. However, she did need one thing, a place to stay.

Ajani nor the generous Ponyta seemed to know where she could get a place. Gerald was thinking hard about it. When he was walking through the streets, he remembered there was a place that smelled like alcohol, but there was a little group of people coming out of it. On closer observation, he remembered, that it had said "Inn" somewhere. Even if it wasn't there specifically, it would still be in the general vicinity!

"Ah, yes! There was a inn a little down the way, certainly wouldn't be expensive. I do think it looks a bit like a tavern, but looks can be deceiving. Like-"

He was cut off as somebody rammed into Diana. It was a small one, covered in little dots..."freckles", he believed. Fluffy red haired girl. Polite too, apologizing for running into Diana. But then her already shaking voice raised into a panicked yell, causing Gerald to instictively back up, most likely just the dog in him, ears pressed down against his head.

When she finally stopped yelling, breaking down into tears...or had she already? Whatever, that didn't matter. He was trying to process what she had said...infirmary, Mrs. Ieneta, or something...was she lost, maybe?

"Are...you looking for an 'Infirmary'? Are you lost? Did you take a wrong turn or something?"
 
"A popular rumor among men, Cassandra De L'alle, correct?"

“Yes, that is correct.” Adam answered without hesitation. There was nothing he should be ashamed of, right? If anything, he should be proud of himself, right? This shouldn’t even be a secret, let alone a great shame for him to bear. Right?

Of course he was right.

He had bragging rights now, and fate presented him an opportunity to put it to use with a minister. What a lucky man was he. If only he could feel that way. His heart was still going AWOL, it seemed.

"I honestly don't remember much, so why don't you give me a little refresher course on who she is and what she does.” He had already opened his mouth to answer readily, when the minister continued, “Also, please tell me what Cassandra did to you, and where." And once again Adam felt his face flush a deep, burning red as his heart quickened its pace.

Where do I even begin?’ He wondered, mind a flurry of memories and intense moments from the events of last night. But thankfully, it was interrupted by the illumination of the rings attached to Kane’s jacket, lest his armor became even harder to move in than it already was. And he was more thankful for the wild bolt of electricity that surged from the Luxray’s fingers than he was afraid. It certainly snapped him back into focus.

"Tell you what, if you answer me. I'll send you off so you can do whatever you need to do. You're obviously in a hurry, right?"

Just the break he was looking for! It seems even the eccentric architect was not immune to the Liepard’s enigmatic allure. Then again, what man didn’t want to know more about her? He certainly did. And perhaps he was simply being selfish in not wanting to share anything in the first place. But hey, orders were orders right?

“Very well.” Adam began. “My insight on her is not as extensive as I would prefer, but it has proven to be very difficult to learn anything about Miss De L’allee. Residents who claimed to have known her during their childhoods her state that she grew up in the Western Capitol, Delinquent Town, if you will, as an orphan, and her parents are rumored to be deceased. According to several reports in the station archive, Miss De L’allee had also been involved in petty crimes as a Purrloin, and is rumored to have been a sheltered by a crime house, long disbanded now. She has not been reported to committing any such crimes since.”

For the next part, the Gallade seemed to have taken a more contemplative tone, almost as if he was not sure of the facts himself, “No one is quite sure of Miss De L’allee’s current profession, as it is quite apparent she does not have relatives nor friends, and even if she did, none has ever come forward with any information. In fact, she is very rarely spotted at all. We do not have records of her place of residence, nor if she even has one, and the only reason we have to believe she is even still alive are the consistent sightings of her, and first hand encounters. Which… I personally can attest to.” Adam cleared his throat. “I encountered her the other night in one of the Northern Capitol roundabouts while walking home from my shift, and after some… Events. I ended up losing all my coins.”

“Is this a satisfactory answer, Sir Kane?”

-

Cassandra allowed herself to be tugged forward with a firm, unforgiving jerk that brought her into close proximity of the Zoroark. Her lips pulled apart to once again project a cheeky grin, and her heart fluttered with excitement. Her eyes, they twinkled with mischief in response to his intense, electric gaze. It hasn’t even started, yet she already loved this little game they played.

This lie.

This illusion.

"Only if you're not afraid of losing, my dear~"

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and her tail curved upwards to gently caress his cheek with its scythe-like end while she purred, “Darlin’, I have nothing to lose.”

And the Liepard found that this male was the exact personification of a knife. Sleek, elegant, sophisticated, and crafted to utter perfection, but at the same time, deathly sharp, and dangerous. And being on his pointed end thrilled her to no end. Until he released her, but she did not close, nor increase the distance between them. "What sort of game do you have in mind?"

“Hmm…” Cassandra hummed playfully, contemplatively, never moving her gaze from Kuniik’s luminous blue irises. Such a pretty color they were. Like the finest sapphires jewellery stores could offer. Her’s did not pierce as much as his gaze did, but they glowed with a lightheartedness that was further accentuated by the dilation of her vertical pupils.

She raised both her arms, and draped them casually over the male’s shoulders in order to pull him down to her height, slowly yet firmly. They crossed behind his neck, and her fur brushed lightly against his skin while she brought herself up on her toes in order to reach his ear, where she whispered, “Something silly.” Allowing her breath to tickle him as her grin only seemed to stretch wider. “If you win, I will give you one favor, for anything and everything, that you can call in any time. No expiration dates included. If I win, you have to buy me the best milk pudding in the city.”

Pulling back slightly, Cassandra glanced at him mischievously, challengingly, with her large, bright eyes, and their faces were close enough for their noses to touch. And she purred, yet again,

“How about it?”
 
"Ah, yes! There was a inn a little down the way, certainly wouldn't be expensive. I do think it looks a bit like a tavern, but looks can be deceiving. Like-"

Just as Diana was about to tune out of his ramblings, something collided with her. She let out a grunt, took a step back, then looked down. She was surprised to see that it was a young Mareep, one who appeared to be quite apologetic and hopelessly lost. In fact, she seemed so concerned that she was actually shouting out her worries.

Diana winced. Although she initially felt bad for the young girl, the exclamations were nails on the chalkboard to the Ekans. She couldn’t stand loud noises, especially yelling. It reminded her of living at home with her arguing siblings.

Kneeling down, Diana placed her hands on either side of the Mareep’s shoulders, locking her yellow irises with the child’s orange ones. Her words were stern, voice laced with conviction.

“Calm down, young one.” Diana’s chest started to rise and fall as she took long, slow breaths. “Breathe with me.”

"Are...you looking for an 'Infirmary'? Are you lost? Did you take a wrong turn or something?"

The serpent woman looked up at Gerald before returning her attention to the young girl. She nodded to the Mareep, as if to encourage her to answer the questions that were posed.
 
Is this a satisfactory answer, Sir Kane?

"It'll do." Kane replied almost immediately as the metallic rings light around his arms began to dissipate. The gruff man took his hand and rubbed his chin in thought while simultaneously closing his eyes. 'Looks like I've tied myself in to a wild goose chase... Eh, it'll be a nice time-waster, I hope.' Kane's eyelids shot open and his arms went back to where they belong, by his sides.

"Alright, Adam? Was it? Here's the deal. You're gonna finish whatever errand you have to run, then you'll come back here and meet me. Then you're going to help me find Cassandra." He stated in a order-like demeanor.

"Oh, and don't forget to un-equip most of your armor, especially if we end up heading into delinquent town. You know what they'll try and do to you if they find out you're a guard. You've got enough prowess in those blades to defend yourself anyway."

The Luxray took a pencil out of his jacket and began to twirl and twist it around his fingers without much effort. He was definitely a fiddler, he really couldn't stay still for more than five seconds without having something to half-mindedly distract him.

Kane looked over to the stone path behind him and then looked back at Adam, then back at the pavement. He took a swift step to the side and found a nice, shady tree to sit under. Just as he got comfy in the lush grass, Kane pointed a finger in the direction Adam was suppose to go.

"Dismissed."
 
"It'll do." Said the ever eccentric minister as he proceeded to rub his chin. The light emitting from the odd rings tailored onto his coat dissipated, and those piercing scarlet eyes slid shut. Adam let out a breath, involuntarily so. Of course, had he been able to help himself, such a thing could never have happened. All the escapades he had unwittingly been involved in simply threw hum out of his rhythm was all.

"Very well. If that is all, I-"

"Alright, Adam? Was it? Here's the deal. You're gonna finish whatever errand you have to run, then you'll come back here and meet me. Then you're going to help me find Cassandra." Adam felt his words catch in his throat and almost instantaneously choke him.

It was an order. The most ridiculous, absurd, unproductive order he had ever been given, but still an order all the same. And he would still need to comply to it. Sometimes he absolutely despised hierarchy. Oh, the irony of it all. He felt his jaw lock up, and his chest tighten, and his gaze- "Oh, and don't forget to un-equip most of your armor, especially if we end up heading into delinquent town. You know what they'll try and do to you if they find out you're a guard. You've got enough prowess in those blades to defend yourself anyway."

"Sir, what you are ensuing is quite essentially a wild goose chase!" The words simply flew from his mouth and he exclaimed. But the minister seemed unfazed as he simply pulled a pencil out of his jacket and began to adeptly weave it between his fingers. It was quite a mesmerizing thing to witness, but at the same time, it built the annoyance in him. A strange irritation. Perhaps defensiveness? Adam was much too wound up to identify. Could it be... Possessiveness? What was Kane even planning to do if he encountered her? "It's praying for a miracle-"

But he was silenced as the Luxray found more interest to be had in his surroundings, and plopped down on the lush, green grass trimmed to perfection and leaned back against one of the few shady trees dotting the garden. And then he pointed towards the palace, and said, "Dismissed." And that was that.

His body instinctively jerked back and continued its way through the palace doors, following orders he earnestly did not wish to follow, and grumbled all the way to Madam Zoya's quarters where he reported in and handed over the letter to the Empoleon woman, where he managed to cease his insatiable personal rants, and made up for it tenfold as he trudged his way to the armory where he shed the weight of his armor, his means of defense, and stomped back up the levels in order to meet up with his superior. He was quite sure he scared a number of maids and groundskeepers along the way.

Now donned in his normal attire; a simple long sleeved shirt with a low cut collar beneath a darker green leather tunic with its laces untied in order to make room for his brilliant scarlet crest, and a pair of white trousers that has clearly seen better days, he approached the resting Luxray and firmly, begrudgingly stated, "Shall we get started, Sir Kane? Have you thought of a location to visit?"
 
"Are...you looking for an 'Infirmary'? Are you lost? Did you take a wrong turn or something?"

“Calm down, young one. Breathe with me.”


Opel was unable to answer the questions the Growlithe teen asked her due to her hyperventilating. Taking the opportunity the Ekans gave her, she allowed her own breaths to slow, as well as her heart rate, as she calmed herself down. Once she was feeling better, she looked back up to the others. "Th-Thank y-y-you-u," the Mareep girl nearly whispered to the woman she ran into, still unable to smile due to the predicament she accidentally stuck herself in. "Y-Yes, I'm-m looki-ing for the i-infirmary-y-y... I-I th-think I-I-I was supposed-d t-to turn l-left when I-I left-t th-th-the shop, but..." Before she could break down again, Opel stopped herself, covering her mouth with a hand and breathing through her nose. "I-I just had t-to buy s-s-some c-cloth... W-We had r-r-run out... H-How do I get-t home?"

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes once again as she remembered the exact words of her motherly figure: "Well, hun, we've just run out of cloth to make more splints. Think you could fetch some more?" She had only been out for a short amount of time, and she already missed Idella. What would she do if she never made it back home?

...No. No, she couldn't think like that! She'd get home. She always found her way back home...

...But poor Opel found that thinking positive was a very tricky thing to do. Again, she reached the line between staying calm and breaking out in hysterics. She found that smacking her forehead with her palm didn't do much, no matter how hard she hit, so she stopped this action after only a few tries. For the third time, she looked up to the people she had bumped into, a lone tear exiting her right duct and rolling slowly down her wet cheek. "Wh-What if I-I-I never m-make it h-ho-home?" she accidentally spoke her mind, quietly, burying her face in her hands afterwards. "Wh-What will h-happen t-to me...?"

Now was the most imperfect time to remember the feeling of uselessness she gave some of the patients at the infirmary, especially that Mamoswine man... "WELL, IT DOES NOT FEEL LIKE IT'S MUCH HELP NOW!" ...Those were his exact words, right? Opel very much did not want to think of this right now, but her brain forced her to. A few more tears fell from her eyes, but they were hidden by her hands. I help people... right?

"I-I just w-w-wanna sleep..." Opel admitted, yawning a bit into her hands. The action of crying hysterically really did take a lot out of her, and the young girl wanted very badly to lay her head on a fluffy pillow and close her eyes, to forget all of this. Wiping her tears away with a sleeve, she used one eye to look up at the others again, wondering if they would, in fact, help her through these trying times.
 
The Zoroark reflected the Leipard's gaze, challenging, and mischievous. a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You've still neglected to tell me exactly what it is we are wagering on." He put his hand on her chin, his thumb touching her lip "And if you are implying I've enough time for something involving a bedroom, then you are mistaken." He let go, and brushed past her, "Besides, simply betting a favor from you for something I'd purchase for you regardless of a wager seems unfair." He had his back to her as he put his hand on his chin contemplatively.

After a few moments, a smirk came upon his face once more. He turned on his heel, and once again laid his crystal eyes on the female.
"I propose a much greater wage, one of equal value to the other. To put it simply, the winner of this little game of yours, gets the loser's soul. In other words, they are to serve under the winner."

He shrugged, "Though, perhaps I've misjudged you, and you wish to have the original bet after all? If that's the case then I'm afraid I don't play games with mere amateurs." Kuniik knew, however, that this Leipard was confident, and capable, so he truly doubted she would deny this wager. Even if she did know what he was doing, he knew she was too prideful to deny the bet. From Kuniik's perspective, he simply did not have the time, nor patience to simply play a childish wager. To him, it was go big, or go home.

He waited for a response to his questions, his blue eyes studying her. She had not currently decided on anything, so she could very well create a situation that was advantageous for her. If anything, it made the bet even more enticing to the Leipard. A powerful man like him at the beck and call of the Leipard. Truly, it would seem to the Leipard that Kuniik was either overly confident, or an idiot, but Kuniik never took a bet unless he knew he had a 100% chance of winning. However, The Zoroark's advantage lied in the fact that while she could be suspicious she would never be able to guess what he would do to win. This was all considering that she thought so far ahead, and got past the rather jarring wager he had just made. Should she have denied the wager, it wouldn't matter to him. Power was to the one who had nothing to lose, or gain from an ordeal. Sure, he could gain a potential ally, but the Zoroark knew full well that he could reach his goals without her. She was merely a passing stranger to him who had managed to capture his interest. The onus was entirely upon the Leipard to keep his interest. She was the one who wanted something from him, and Kuniik would make sure to capitalize upon that fact.
 
As the young Mareep explained her conundrum, Diana grimaced. She hated hearing young ones who already had such fear and doubt, as it was likely a burden they would have to carry with them the rest of their lives. At least, that was the Ekans’ experience with her perpetually depressed brother.

Despite how badly she wanted to leave and find the Inn before it was too late, Diana knew that she couldn’t leave this girl unattended. The Mareep may have been a mere distraction to the dancer, but she knew that through the young girl’s eyes the world could very well have been sinking. It was up to Diana and Gerald to try and be a life raft. Well...if all went accordingly, mostly Gerald.

“Infirmary, you say?” Diana said, her frown growing into a smile, “well then, it certainly sounds like we need to get you back there as soon as possible. I imagine that you have a very important task to carry out.”

For a quick moment, her attention turned to Gerald and she winked at him before looking back at the Mareep. “I’m sure you know how fortunate it is to have found a Growlithe. It is widely known that Growlithes have a keen sense of smell, so much so that they can practically map out an entire area just by sniffing the air.” She didn't know if any of that was true, in fact she was pretty sure it wasn't. However, she knew she needed to say something to raise the hopes of the young Mareep. “Do you have anything from the Infirmary? Perhaps a cloth of some kind? If so, if you let Gerald here sniff it, he'll be able to find where you need to go.”

Diana stood up straight and placed a scaley hand on Gerald’s shoulder. She whispered to him, “I hope this isn't putting you out...but would you mind escorting her to the Infirmary while I check in at that Inn? I promise to repay you for your troubles.”

* * *

The whole room felt like it was moving. He saw shapes, some abstract, others clear as day. The high-pitched noise he usually heard was drowned out by thoughts that seemed to have melted together. There was a brief moment where he caught a glimpse of what happiness felt like. Just as fast, it was gone.

Then again, Ruby didn’t promise that the spell would make him feel all that better. For a moment, after Ruby’s friend had hit him with Confuse Ray, Jett felt like he was in a bit of a stupor. Everything was spinning, yet he was okay with it. He was calm, and for once in his miserable life, he wasn’t scolding himself for everything he ever did wrong.

Just like every good feeling, however, it fled him, leaving the same hollow shell of a Seviper that’d been laying there two minutes ago.

“Oh man...Ella, this is pretty amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit with a Ray as good as yours.”

The voice surprised Jett, and he looked quickly to see that Ruby was still in the room with him. Had he been there this whole time? Had Jett himself been here this whole time? For whatever reason, he thought he was still at home.

That’s when the memories came flooding back. Waking up early to fix breakfast for Jade and the rest of his siblings. Jasmine going on about how badly she wanted Amber to change her clothing and show a little more skin, regardless of whether or not the young girl’s head wasn’t like hers or Diamond’s.

Then, of course, the sadness of Diamond herself going missing recently. As much as he tried to escape it, the sinking he felt upon seeing her empty spot at the breakfast table slipped in with his other recollections. He hoped more than anything that she was okay, and if she was, that she would let them know somehow.

Not long after that feeling came back to him did Jett remember Ruby shuffling out of their room and yawning, then talking about his plans to go to a friends house a little later. Ruby implored that Jett meet his friend Ella, saying that she was a girl that he ‘had a chance with’. Naturally, that meant there was likely no chance of any meaningful relationship.

Jett was scheduled to perform his comedy routine at about midnight, yet, he didn’t see much harm in joining his brother anyway. Besides, he wasn’t getting any happier in this house, what with father falling ill and mother refusing to leave his side.

Now here he lay, his confusion slowly waning as all of his worries and doubts found their respective corners in his mind. Right where they belonged.

“I’d say so,” Ella’s voice didn’t startle Jett as much as Ruby’s. Hers was a bit more gentle, perhaps even smoother than Diamond’s. “I’ve only been practicing since I was a Pumpkaboo. Mind you, I never thought that I’d be using it like this.”

“Consider me happy with your life choices,” Ruby said, followed by a practically giddy laugh.

“Hey, ‘Jett’ was it? How are you feeling? If it’s half as good as Ruby, then I think I might need to tone it down a bit next time,” joked the Gourgeist.

Jett sat up and looked around the bedroom. It was much smaller than he remembered, and he needed to take a moment to comprehend where he was again. After pinching his forehead for a few seconds, he shook his head and looked toward Ella.

“That was...interesting, I guess.”

“And?”

Jett looked puzzled, “and what?”

“That’s it? It was ‘interesting’? I figured you’d be just as blown away!”

“I think he’s still recovering,” Ruby practically stammered into the middle of their conversation. “Don’t sweat it, Ella, you’re gonna take the market by storm if you start charging for this. You’re the best specialist in all of Suimera, trust me.”

The Gourgeist looked content with the complement, seemingly forgetting Jett’s remarks. Her hair, which moved independently, pressed against her hip and she smiled arrogantly. “You got that right.”

Ruby leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, closing his eyes and letting out a happy sigh.

In that moment of silence, Ella turned her attention back to Jett. “Sooo...Jett. Ruby told me a lot about you. I heard that you’re a pretty successful comedian.”

“Depends on what kind of humor you like.”

“Right...but he says you make a lot of money, so you must be pretty entertaining!” Ella smiled hopefully. “That sounds like a good life to live.”

There was another awkward silence. Jett, whilst sitting on the bed adjacent to the bench Ella was sitting on, began fidgeting. He looked around, trying to distract himself with something, but he could still feel the Gourgeist’s solid yellow eyes on him.

After a minute-long pause, he finally made eye-contact with her and said, “not really-”

“Ruby,” Ella said plainly, rolling her eyes and looking at the other Seviper as though Jett had left the room, “I thought you said this guy was the perfect match for me. So far, he’s nothing like I pictured.”

Ruby raised his head and looked at Jett, then Ella. “What? What are you talking about? Jett is the perfect match for you! He’s the strong silent type, just like you like. Besides, I thought you said you wanted someone more mature. You can’t get much more mature than twenty-three I’m afraid...that’s, like, peak maturity. It’s all downhill into childishness after that.”

“You’re twenty-three?” Ella’s gaze fell upon Jett once more. She looked surprised and intrigued at the same time.

All of a sudden, there was a shift. Jett could feel it. The Gourgeist was watching him, but this time it wasn’t out of curiosity. It was out of interest. Her body language had gone from irritated to suggestive in a matter of seconds. So fast that Jett himself felt like prey.

“Hey, Ruby, wanna go to the market and get us something to drink?” Ella said, her eyes now trained on Jett’s. All he could do now was stare at her in silence. By the tone of her voice, he knew exactly what she wanted. The same thing that many of Ruby’s woman friends wanted.

Ruby snickered and stood up faster than Jett ever thought possible for someone so lazy. “Say no more. I’ll disappear for an hour or two.” He gave Jett a thumbs up and mouthed the words ‘I told you so’.

Jett wanted to leave too. He so badly wanted to leave. But he couldn’t even work up the motivation to stand. On top of that, what would be the point? If he stormed out of here, it wasn’t like he had anywhere else he could go. At least staying here with Ella was something that could help take his mind off of things.

With a loud clinking noise, the door to the bedroom was closed, leaving Ella and Jett alone.

Almost immediately, Ella stood from the bench repositioned herself next to Jett.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“It’s your bed.”

“Touché.” Ella bit her lower lip as she eyed him up and down.

Her hair began to shift again, placing itself on Jett's thigh and slowly caressing it. She continued to stare at him as she did this. Meanwhile, he once again did his best to avoid eye-contact.

“I hope this isn’t too forward but...do you find me attractive?” queried the ghost type.

“I don't think that matters.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that all you care about is whether or not you can allure me despite our age difference. Even though you're just five years younger than I am, being with me would make you feel powerful. Like you can conquer someone who is farther ahead in life than you.”

Ella was undeniably taken aback by the response. Her hair froze for a moment, and her grin turned to a frown. “I mean, I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” She looked to the ground for a moment, lost in thought, then back to him. “Do you think I can conquer you?”

Jett finally locked eyes with her. He looked tense, then slowly nodded his head, “yes, if you want to. You are very attractive.”

And I'm very depraved, Jett thought, but chose not to say it aloud.

“Wow, underneath it all you’re pretty insightful aren’t you?,” she giggled, “I like that.”

“Underneath it all I’m whatever you want me to be...”

Without another word, the Gourgeist leaned in and pressed her lips firmly against Jett’s.
 
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