Hiya. :}
Here's a little thing I've been leisurely writing for a while now. It's not a serious piece of work (my serious pieces of work won't see the light of day for a loooooooooong time, hehe), just a thing I've been working on when I get tired of hysterically grammar-proofing everything and getting chewed up and spit out by my Beta (who, I hope...isn't a member of this forum... >.>)
Wait, what was I doing here...OH, yeah.
The rating is R, which will seem baffling for a long time, but this is one of those things that start off all cheerful and lighthearted and become increasingly disturbing as the plot progresses. Like in Harry Potter books where they start you off on vivid Christmas descriptions and chocolate frogs and kooky characters only to guide you into scenes of adult bodies with shrunken, wailing baby heads and mass genocide. ^-^
Also, in the leisurely spirit of the whole fanfic, the plot will progress slowly. VERY slowly. Don't expect spectacular battles or cliff-hangers any time soon. I know a lot of people aren't the type for this sort of thing and that's fine, but if you ARE, then prepare yourself for a light, leisurely read. For now.
Oh, also - I hate prologues, so I didn't write one.
OH - and I'm on British English, so all those extra 'u's and writing centre instead of center and words ending with -ise instead of -ize, that's on purpoUse. ;D
OH, one more thing! I bought a new pair of flip-flops. ^^ They rock. Best footwear - EVER! X}
Somewhere along the course of September that year, the two families decided it was time for the girls to meet. In the cozy lounge of Goldenrod’s Country Club which was situated in the northern outskirts of Ilex forest, the parents discussed the first contact of their unique children, while outside the autumn wind caused luxurious amounts of golden leaves to set off from their mother branches.
Though some details varied in their views of how it should come to pass, all three people – Angela Byrde’s parents and Emily Walters’ father – agreed wholeheartedly over what was most crucial.
It was positively vital that they get along, preferably become friends.
The get-together was scheduled for September 14th. A Saturday. The day of Emily’s birthday, actually, from which, they all hoped, the Byrdes would leave as good friends as result of the girls’ first meeting.
When he got home from the meeting, Mr. Jeremy Walters immediately made his way to the private classroom, situated in the west wing of his mansion where he knew his eight-year old daughter was having a study session. Personally, he believed she was too young to begin her “education”, but it had been his late wife’s wish and Mr. Walters could not find it in his heart not to carry it out.
Jeremy Walters had always been a tad bony for his height and looked a bit tired for his age, but since his wife died he became a shadow of his former self. In the live-size portrait of himself that was hung in the mansion lobby, he was a twenty years old young man with thick, coal-black hair and kind, pale-blue eyes. His face had been pale and bony even then, but he had a broad smile on his face which seemed to light up his features.
Now, mere ten years later, his face was already wrinkled, his hair lined with gray strands and his eyes tired and somewhat watery in colour, as if worn out through arduous use. Though he was in his early thirties, he looked at least ten years older, if not more. A lot of times, people would think his little girl was actually his granddaughter. All around, he resembled a living antiquity, old and forgotten in some dusty place. His hands, lean and bony, always quivered ever so slightly which would cause his cup to make a curious, clattering noise against its dish whenever he was having tea.
Sometimes, Mr. Walters would make a dry remark how the only thing fueling his functions nowadays was the immense energy his daughter all but radiated. Even now, just standing in front of the room she was in, made him feel revitalized. He could hear her voice, sounding somewhat annoyed and high-pitched and realized, with a soft chuckle, that she was arguing over something with her tutor…again.
With no further hesitation, he grasped the doorknob and pushed his way into the classroom. His entrance elicited a cry of mixed joy and relief from the small-framed girl who was currently standing on top of her chair with one foot on the small desk in front of her which was covered in pieces of paper covered in doodles.
She looked as if she was about to throw something at the stoic young man behind the teacher’s desk when she spotted her father and grinned from ear-to-ear.
“Papa!” she cried out victoriously as she leapt down from her desk and rushed into his arms for a hug which Mr. Walters gladly accepted.
Emily was a tiny girl, even for her age, but she made up for what she lacked in size with tremendous energy, bordering on hyperactivity. After a lot of resistance, mostly on her Tutor’s part, Mr. Walters finally allowed her to have her dark-crimson hair cropped short, depriving it of its former, luxurious curls Emily inherited from her mother. Now her hair was longest at each side of her face, where it just barely reached under the line of her jaw while at the back of her head it was trimmed very, very short. She got her eyes from her father, but the way they were before – vivid pale blue and restless, always flickering left and right in search of something new to see.
They were a bit stormy now, though, as she raised them to meet her father’s amused look.
“Papa, Mr. Boot is annoying me again, make him stop!” she accused her tutor bitterly.
“It’s actually Mr. Wellington, Emily and I wasn’t trying to annoy you.” the young man said impassively as he approached them with a stoic look on his face. He used a cane with a plain, silver head as support for walking, as he limped heavily on his left leg due to reasons he never bothered to reveal to his employers. “I was merely pointing out that a young lady of your position should dress appropriately.”
“And what’s wrong with me?” she challenged defiantly, ignoring the amused chuckle her father let out at the question.
“Well, for one thing – it would be preferable you wore a dress, rather than trousers.” her young tutor pointed out reasonably, still steadfastly calm in spite of his student’s fury, “But if you must, then at least wear a pair that isn’t missing one leg.”
The girl glanced down at her jeans whose left leg was cut off neatly at around the middle of the thigh before glaring up at her tutor again.
“I wanted to make them into a shorts.” she barked.
“So why didn’t you finish?”
“I changed my mind!”
Mr. Wellington shook his head with a soft sigh before turning his calm, brown eyes to his employer.
“Mr. Walters, good afternoon.” he said, “How are you today?”
“Well, thank you Jacob.” Mr. Walters replied with a faint smile, before his eyes turned serious, “I’ve just come back from meeting the Byrdes.”
The young teacher’s already pale face seemed to turn even whiter and his solemn brown eyes strayed over to his little student with worry.
“Not wasting any time, are you?” he murmured pensively while tucking a loose strand of his dark-brown hair behind his hear. A second after, he broke into a smile, “Perhaps it’s better that way.”
“What?” Emily asked confusedly, never having seen her two favourite people in the world this serious. For old Mr. Boot it wasn’t so unusual, but her father always appeared lighthearted in her innocent, childish mind. “Whaaaaaat! What’s better? Who are the Byrds? Why’re you two so gloomy? I’ll stitch the leg back on!”
Mr. Walters just had to laugh fondly before he crouched in front of his daughter, the usual merry twinkle back in his eye.
“Emily, dear, the Byrdes are very important people to us.” he told her gently, “They have a daughter who’s a year younger than you and they’ll bring her to your birthday party next week. It is…very important that you and her get along.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Mr. Walter hesitated with his reply, as if weighing his words very, very carefully before he spoke on, “…because there will come a time in your life when she will be the only person in the world who can understand you.”
The girl tilted her head a little, much reminding of a curious puppy, as she squinted up at her father suspiciously. She could tell there was something fishy about the arrangement, but her young mind still couldn’t discern exactly what it was.
“Well…as long as I get presents, it’s fine with me.” she finally said, proud of her diplomatic reply.
Mr. Wellington sighed with an exasperated roll of his dark-brown eyes before he hobbled back to his desk.
“We’ll cover the fallacy of happiness which material possessions bring in tomorrow’s lecture.” he muttered to himself more than anyone else. “But now we should really get back to today’s lesson.”
“Fair enough.” Mr. Walter agreed as he rose from his crouching position and made his way to the door. Before he left the room, he glanced at his daughter over his shoulder.
She grinned and waved. He smiled.
“Now, then…” Mr. Wellington sighed as he beckoned his student to approach his desk which the girl – not without grumbling – did, “Let’s pick up where we left off. Choppy!”
The creature called ‘Choppy’ was a tiny, yellow mouse-like being with huge, pitch-black ears and a pair of curious, brown eyes. It was a young Pichu and it poked its tiny head out of the end of Mr. Wellington’s brown coat sleeve. It liked to curl up in there, as there was plenty of room around the young teacher’s slim arm – like a miniature, shifting tunnel.
“Chuuuu!” it cried out in pretty much the same manner someone would shout ‘ta-daa’ and easily jumped out of its hiding place, not missing the chance to nudge its master’s palm with its head first, and landed on the top of the teacher’s desk.
It sat up on its hind legs, took a moment to look pensive before it cleared its throat and let out a series of squeaks and squeals.
“Chuuu-pi-chuchu-pichu…CHU! Pi! Pichu-chu. Chuuu-PI!” it declared and looked really proud with whatever it was it said.
“Alright, then.” Mr. Wellington said with thick dignity, “What did Choppy say, Emily?”
“He saaaaaid…” the girl trailed off, sounding bored while her eyes drifted to the window, “That it’s time for a cocoa break!”
“Miss Walter-“
“NO, that a gigantic metemor is approaching the Earth-“
“Meteor is the word you need, I believe.”
“Yeah and that only I can save everyone with my pirate superhero powers! WOOOOSHHHHH!” she set off, running around the room with her arms outstretched like wings, “Come on, Mr. Boot, what are you waiting for!? Get to the shelter!”
“Emily.” the one, solemn word snapped the girl out of her playful actions and she trudged back to the desk, half sprawling across it, her chin resting on her folded arms.
“He said…something about his ears, I dunno…” she sighed exasperatedly, cringing immediately at her tutor’s disapproving look.
“Please take this seriously, Miss Walters.” he told her sternly, “We’ve been through this – you must focus. This is a pokemon familiar to you and yet you can’t understand him. In one week you will receive a pokemon you’ve never met before – your partner.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t believe you do.” Mr. Wellington insisted and this time he looked very nearly irritated. It stood out sharply against his usually calm demeanor. “You’ve been born into something very unique, Miss Walters. Not to take advantage of your gift is a blatant slap in the face to whichever power bestowed it upon you. Not to mention your future-“
He seemed to check himself just short of finishing his sentence and that alone caused Emily to prick her ears curiously, he pale blue eyes searching her teacher’s face intently.
“What?” she sprang up and climbed the desk until she was kneeling on top of it, next to the very bemused-looking Pichu, “Whaaaaat!? My future what? Come on! You and Papa are both mean, you never tell me stuff!”
“If you want to be told important things,” Mr. Wellington informed her icily, “then prove first that you are worthy of hearing them.”
Emily’s pale blue eyes froze over until they became icy like glaciers and her jaw squared as she whipped around to the Pichu, slamming her little hands at each side of it.
“Fine!” she snapped furiously, “Let’s hear that again, Choppy!”
The little pokemon nodded and cleared its throat before it started over again.
“Chuuu-pi-chuchu-pichu…”
A week passed swiftly by, bringing cold autumn winds to ruin the Indian Summer earlier than usual. The sky was dark gray for days, the streets likewise, but the treetops still blazed in all the shades of yellow, orange and crimson. Still, even the warm colours of autumn foliage couldn’t soften the bitter cold wind that ripped through everything in its path.
In cities, people remained home, in forests pokemon hid from the cold. When Emily’s birthday, that joyous occasion, finally arrived, the entire world appeared deserted.
Still, the large Walters’ mansion was warm and all its rooms decorated in a cozy manner by Emily’s late mother who loved fireplaces and soft, exotic rugs of fiery colour that were so thick that your feet sank into them at each step. There was plenty of warm cocoa and boiled wine and cakes so chocolate you forgot anything else existed. The guests were enjoying themselves immensely, engulfed in warmth and friendly chatter.
Emily was bored for most part, as there were few children there and those who came were mostly already young snobs at their age. The atmosphere was pleasant, though, and everyone was nice to her, giving her presents and saying their earnest congratulations. She felt so at ease that she seriously pondered crawling into one of the comfy armchairs and dozing off under a warm blanket. Preferably next to a steaming cup of cocoa.
She was sitting at a small coffee table with her father and Mr. Wellington when she heard her tutor’s breath hitch and looked up at him to find his face even paler than usual and he looked like he was listening for something.
The next second, the doorbell rang.
“Emily,” Mr. Wellington’s voice startled the girl and she looked up into his serious face, “an old friend of mine is here. He is a teacher for the Byrdes’ daughter the same way I am for you. Please be on your best behavior and show him respect – he is a war veteran.”
“Ah, so they’re here already.” Mr. Walters sighed fondly and rose from his chair, brushing some imaginary dust from his brown vest, “Let’s go meet them, dear. And what Mr. Wellington told you goes for the whole Byrde family – be polite to them as well.”
The girl rolled her eyes and shuffled off the chair, struggling with her indigo, overly lacy dress.
“Should I be disturbed because I felt I had to point that out?” Mr. Walters asked pensively and Mr. Wellington shrugged with jaded stoicism.
“Considering her age, not at all, sir.” he sighed, sounding somewhat tired before his dark brown eyes narrowed disapprovingly at his student who was already halfway across the room, “On the other hand, the fact she’s wearing her jeans under her dress…”
Mr. Terrence Wolfe was a peculiar presence to say the least. Certainly not at all what someone would imagine a tutor looked like. Very tall and broad-shouldered, he had wild, light brown hair which framed his face both in the sense of some loose strands that fell down his cheeks and the thick, scruffy beard that framed his jaw. He was dressed in a way Emily wasn’t used to as well – in old, faded jeans and a heavy, brown overcoat that had seen better days. Most peculiar thing about him, however, was – beyond all contestation – the black eyepatch he wore over one of his gray eyes.
“Mister,” Emily said slowly, having just bounced into the lobby from the guest room and taken a good look at the single guest who waited there, “you’re the coolest person EVER!”
She pounced nearer immediately, her blue eyes alit with curiousity as she grabbed the end of his left sleeve and inspected it.
“Wooo-oow!” she gasped out in sheer awe, “Fingerless gloves! Oh! A ring with a skull! And the eyepatch! Are you a pirate?”
“Emily!” her tutor’s horrified voice startled her and she felt two hands land on her shoulders, pulling her away from the object of her inspection, “What did I just tell you!? You shouldn’t- er-“
He paused for a moment to stare at his old friend disbelievingly before he exploded.
“Terrence, what in God’s name are you wearing?” he snapped at the much larger man who looked decidedly pleased with himself.
“The same thing I always wear.” Terrence replied smugly, his grey eye twinkling with mirth, “I don’t see why that should surprise you.”
“You’re a teacher now!” Mr. Wellington all but barked back, making Emily do a double take up at him, never having seen the man lose his cools like this, “You could at least make an effort to look a bit more normal.”
“I reckon I’ll do that when you make an effort to be less stuck up.” the large man said with a mischievous wink, directed at Emily who giggled and glanced up at her teacher cheerfully.
“He really nailed you, Mr. Boot.”
“Mr. Boot?” Terrence guffawed with laughter, earning himself a withering glare from the smaller man and then he waved it off casually, leaning towards Emily instead, “You know, you’re every bit the little devil your teacher here wrote me about.”
Emily grinned up at him full out – it was the best compliment she’d gotten in a while now. Returning her grin, the large man searched the pocket of his coat hurriedly.
“That is why I am absolutely sure you’ll like the birthday gift I brought you.” he added before looking exaggeratedly worried, “I just hope I didn’t forget it…”
“You didn’t, you didn’t! What is it, what did you bring me!?” Emily squealed with joy and broke away from her tutor to grab onto one of the large pockets on Terrence’s coat and peer into it eagerly, “Is it a ferret!?”
“No, something better.” Terrence laughed heartily and finally pulled his gift out of somewhere inside his huge coat, presenting it to the girl victoriously. “Happy birthday, little miss.”
“Oh my goooosh!” the girl practically screamed with joy as she snatched it from the large hand, much to the disapproval of her teacher.
“Really now, that hardly seems appropriate for-“
“PAPA!” Emily exclaimed as she pounced over to her father who just entered the lobby, smiling at his daughter’s enthusiasm before he even knew what was going on. She waved her gift at him, “Look! Look what Mr. Terrence gave me! It’s a real, pirate’s eyepatch! Isn’t it COOL!?”
“Very much, my dear.” said Mr. Walters, delighted at seeing his daughter so happy, “Maybe we can organize a treasure hunt for you one of these days? With a map and riddles?”
“Pffft, why go through all that trouble when I can just rob people!” the girl snickered to herself and put the eyepatch over her left eye, bolting off the very same second and disappearing through the door with a battle cry. “YAARRRR!”
Mr. Wellington cringed and then shot his old friend a fiercely disapproving look which only made Terrence choke up with laughter.
“Relax, would you, it’s not like I gave her a gun.” he said with a cheerful nudge before he grinned at Mr. Walters and bowed exaggeratedly, “Mr. Jeremy Walters! How long has it been, now? Ten years?”
“More or less.” the bony man replied with a warm smile as he shook the huge hand, “But please, you must be cold. Let’s move to the guest room. The Byrdes are arriving later?”
“Yeah, there was an issue with my young, genius student’s attire.” the large man replied, emphasizing the word ‘attire’ with a frilly gesture of his hand before grinning at his host, “Apparently, it’s not the same thing as a dress. I dun’ know nothing about that, so I high-tailed it out of there. You got something to drink around here?”
“We have boiled wine and cocoa…there’s kind of a theme going on.”
“That’s a start.”
“Oh, Nigel, darling, isn’t this romantic?” chirped a blonde woman, dressed in an elegant beige raincoat as she all but twirled past the maid who’d opened the door to the Byrde family, “The rain and the wind – just like that fall when we got engaged! Do you remember, love?”
“Of course I do, my Treasure,” replied a short, wiry man with bright orange hair and scruffy moustaches of matching colour as he squelched inside after her, “We went for a ride in that gondola despite the rain.”
His wife giggled frilly at the memory, “My mother was so mad at us for getting wet!” then she seemed to remember something else and craned her neck towards the door, “Angela, dear, hurry up, you’ll get wet!”
“Not until you and father stop embarrassing me!” came a disgruntled shout, followed by what appeared to be a pink, plastic raincoat hanging under an umbrella of matching colour. Only when it snapped shut angrily was it possible to see that inside the coat was a seven year old girl with very light, blonde hair – flawlessly smooth and straight despite the rain – and disapproving, wine-red eyes.
She managed to look highly dignified as she took a critical glance around the premises, despite the fact that a small puddle of water was spreading from around her white boots.
“I guess this is fine if we don’t stay too long.” she commented before directing a sharp glare at her parents, “We won’t, will we?”
Her parents exchanged helpless looks before her father managed to look stern.
“Poppet, this is a very important day, we told you that.” he said solemnly. “You will make a lifelong friendship today, so try and keep an open mind.”
The girl wrinkled her delicate nose.
“Don’t say that like it’s already decided.” she huffed defiantly as she began to shrug out of her wet raincoat, mindful not to soak her hair, “What if I don’t like her? What if she’s terrible?”
Free from the raincoat which she coolly handed to the maid and now dressed in an impeccable white dress jacket and a flouncy pink skirt, Angela took a pokeball out of her pocket and released a small pokemon unceremoniously.
It was a short, bipedal little thing, no taller than two feet. Upon being released she let out a joyful cry and danced around her owner gracefully a few times before settling at her side. The green form covering her head which resembled a cap on its former evolution stage, now looked like a hair style with two red decorations at each side. Her red eyes were gentle and carefree and her white body with the area above her green legs that looked like a tutu, made her look like a little pokemon ballerina. When they stood side by side, it was difficult to say who had better posture – the girl or her pokemon.
Feeling a bit encouraged with her pokemon at her side, Angela glanced up at her parents, looking resigned to her fate.
“Let’s get this over with.” she sighed and, as if on cue, the door inbetween two flights of stairs which joined at the top opened and their smiling host walked towards them.
Back in the guest room, when Mr. Walters left their company to greet the Byrdes and arrange the girls’ meeting, Terrence and Mr. Wellington suddenly fell serious, despite the lighthearted chatter that surrounded them.
Terrence took a long sip from his glass of steaming hot, cooked wine and directed an unusually serious look at his friend.
“So…it’s time already.” he sighed heavily and added, “Too damn early, Jacob. They’re babies, what can they do?”
“We have no choice.” Mr. Wellington replied grimly. “Remember, this issue was supposed to be dealt with a long time ago. Now the situation is becoming alarming.”
The large man glanced at his friend worriedly.
“I didn’t want to ask about that in the letters,” he grumbled, somewhat bitterly, “that brilliant student of mine has a talent for solving calculus problems and sniffing out secrets. I take it your research isn’t doing too well?”
“Oh, the research is fine, couldn’t be better.” Jacob sighed tiredly, “It’s the results that are worrying. It was barely noticeable back in the day, but now it stands out like a sore thumb. Less and less pokemon eggs are being created every year. Even those we find don’t hatch a lot of times. It used to be a rare exception, but now it’s becoming more frequent.”
“I could’ve told you that with no fancy research.” Terrence said darkly, “We had a hell of a time when we were looking for a partner for Angela. There just weren’t any young pokemon around…and she’s picky too. It took forever to find one she liked.”
“Yes, well, I hope she’s not as picky about friends.” Mr. Wellington said, looking slightly alarmed, “Emily is a bit- eh…but no, I’m sure they’ll get along fine. It’s their fate, after all.”
Having agreed that it would be best if the girls met without any outside interference, the Byrdes and Mr. Walter left Angela to wait in a small library for Mr. Walters to find his daughter and send her there.
Little did they know that a predator was lurking from behind the heavy, indigo curtains, waiting for Angela to be alone.
When the enthusiastic parents left the room, the blonde girl gave up her dignified poise and plopped down onto a low stool, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm with a loud huff.
“I don’t want to be here, Dee.” she muttered miserably, “Whenever my parents pick out something for me it’s a disaster.”
The Kirlia called ‘Dee’ tilted her head up at her mistress, clearly affected by Angela’s ill mood.
“Well…” she replied telepathically, “…maybe- maybe…MAYBE she’s nice? And kind? And fun!”
She giggled and danced around the room with outstretched hands and the blonde girl snickered a little at the sight. Dee’s cheerfulness was always contagious, especially since the psychic pokemon always put all her energy to make it so. She spent so much time trying to get the hang of telepathic communication and transferring positive emotions in order to make her owner happy, the other psychic abilities she should’ve developed by now were quite poor.
Breathless from dancing, the pokemon halted in front of her owner, now truly enthusiastic about this whole deal.
“Maybe- maybe she likes to dance and- and- you could play together and sing,” she chattered with glowing eyes, “and stay up late and share secrets and eat candy and go on adventures and-“
“Okay, okay, don’t work yourself into a heart attack.” Angela laughed and leaned forward to hug her pokemon impulsively, now completely sharing her good mood, “You’re right, maybe it’ll be fun. After all, she’s a noble – how bad can she be?”
At that time, the lurking predator decided to spring.
“YAAARRR!” Emily screamed from the bottom of her lungs as she lunged from her hiding place, “YER MONEY OR YA LIFE, WOMAN!”
Angela jumped away from the screaming wild girl who was wearing a torn and dust-stained blue dress over a pair of jeans, as well as an eyepatch and a butchered birthday cap that was supposed to resemble a pirate’s hat. The blonde girl stared at the strange child for one, frozen moment and then she took a deep breath.
And screamed from the bottom of her lungs.
Overwhelmed by her mistress’ terror, Dee joined in with a high-pitched, continuous wail.
Emily cringed and covered her ears with her hands frantically, trying to block out the horrible noise. After a minute or so, Angela ran out of breath and stopped screaming, instead settling for staring at the strange girl in horrified outrage.
When she realised the noise was gone, Emily let go of her ears and glared at the hysteric blonde girl.
“Jeez, you don’t have to be such a drama queen!” she snapped with a mixture of apology and annoyance, “I wasn’t really going to rob you! Er...or kill you.”
Angela managed to scrape up the last shreds of composure she had left and piece them together so she could speak coherently.
“You…you scared me to death!” she croaked out lividly, her voice now weak from the previous abuse, “Are you insane!?”
“No, I’m a pirate.” Emily replied defensively. “Can’t you see the eyepatch?”
Before Angela could reply, her mother, white as a sheet, barged into the room, followed closely by her husband, Emily’s father and Terrence and Mr. Wellington who’d all hurried over when they heard the scream.
The blonde woman rushed to her daughter immediately and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Angela, what happened, are you okay!?” she asked breathlessly, though she was calming down already.
“Nothing, just that this lunatic scared me to death!” the blonde girl hissed, casting a venomous look at Emily who gaped back in disbelief.
“Wha- hey!” she snapped back angrily, “I was only playing pretend! It’s not my fault you’re a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken, it’s YOU, you jumped out screaming like a-“
“Chi-i-cken! Buk-aaw, little chicky!”
“Stop that!” Angela snarled, now crimson red in the face. “At least I’m not crawling behind curtains in filthy tatters!”
“Oooh, chicky’s angry now!”
“Emily, that’s enough.” Mr. Wellington scolded the girl sternly, “Angela is out guest and- wait, no, really – what happened to your clothes?”
“I’m a pirate,” she replied sullenly, clearly seeing no need to further elaborate.
“Oh, so all pirates dress like ragamuffins?” Angela snapped at her venomously, causing her mother to let out an outraged gasp.
“Angela!”
“No, only the fearsome crew of the Indominatalable!” Emily replied with thick dignity.
“Indomitable!” Mr. Walter groaned helplessly, causing Terrence to snicker and nudge him.
“Well now, no harm done.” Mr. Walters declared good-naturedly as he approached his daughter and took her by the shoulders, “Why don’t you all join the other guests for some cake while I take Emily for a change of clothes.”
“They look upset, maybe they should go home.”
“Emily!”
Some fifteen minutes later, Emily was back among the guests, now dressed in a white, lacy dress though she refused to take off the eyepatch and it was now perched on the top of her head. She needed both eyes to unwrap her presents.
“Here, dear, this is from the Byrdes.” her father told her with a warm smile as he passed her a box, wrapped in golden decorative paper.
His daughter scowled in Angela’s general direction as she unwrapped her gift, revealing it to be an adorable, stuffed Furret doll with a blue ribbon around its neck. The girl sized it up before glaring at Angela sourly.
“Did she pick it?” she asked icily, causing the other girl to grimace.
“Of course I didn’t, I’d rather shake hands with a Muk.” came a hissed reply.
“Then I love it!” Emily declared with a sweet and icy smile and hugged the toy theatrically before moving on to another gift.
One bicycle, a chemistry set, several gorgeous dresses and a lot of stuffed pokemon dolls later, Emily’s father appeared with a broad grin and a dark-blue present with a golden bow and little stars scattered across the wrapping paper. It had holes on each side and something was scuffing about inside it as Mr. Walter gingerly placed it in front of his daughter.
“Happy birthday, my dear.” Mr. Walter said warmly before he leaned in and kissed the top of his daughter’s head, murmuring into her hear, “Gently now – it’s still a baby.”
With an excited squeal, Emily assaulted the wrapping paper and soon tore enough away to pry the box open and peer inside it over the edge.
Hesitantly, a small, round blue head appeared, with little, pink antennae-like extensions on each side and tiny, brown eyes – curious, but slightly frightened as well. The antennae wiggled as the little head traversed around the edge of the box, the little blinking eyes exploring the surroundings and all the people gathered, before it came nose-to-nose with its new owner.
“W-woopah?” it mewled softly and Emily pulled away a bit with a look on her face, difficult to read.
“It’s- it’s so-“ she stammered, looking uncharacteristically serious before breaking into a grin and all but diving into the box to scoop the little creature up for a hug, “So cute! Waaaah, it’s so adorable! I love, love, LOVE you so much! Oh, you cute, little, adorable thing, you’re SO cuuuuute!”
“You said that already.” Angela grumbled sourly, something about Emily’s enthusiasm grinding on her nerves.
But her comment went unnoticed as the other girl was too busy huggling the little pokemon who, shocked at first, now looked overjoyed by the attention.
“Cute, cute, cute, cute!” she squealed happily, not even noticing Mr. Wellington who was suddenly studiously by her side.
“Miss Walters, that there is a Wooper.” he told her academically, “A bipedal, amphibian water fish-“
“Thank you!” he was cut off by an overjoyed squeal as Emily, the little pokemon still nestled in the crook of her arm, pounced on him and hugged him around the middle, “Thank you, I love it, thank you! Papa!”
She broke away from her stunned and embarrassed teacher and pounced at her father who was much more willing to accept a hug.
“Thank you!”
No longer able to withstand such intense joy holding still, Dee giggled and broke away from her owner, dancing around the room with cheerful grace.
“D-Dee, get back here!” Angela snapped, furiously red in the face, but her pokemon seemed to be in a trance.
The blonde girl ground her teeth and settled down, now in a really foul mood. She couldn’t really get angry at her partner for disobedience when she remembered how their own first meeting had passed – with Angela coldly sizing up the little Ralts that had timidly grasped the end of her skirt and saying, “It’ll do, I guess.”
She had deprived a wonderful pokemon from a joyful beginning of their union, it would be really cruel to forbid her to enjoy someone else’s, at least.
Unaware of her least-favourite guest’s discomfort, Emily held up her pokemon, rubbing her nose against the front of the Wooper’s face, where she imagined his would be if he had it, before pulling away to size him up critically.
“I’m going to call you…” she said ponderingly, before breaking into a grin again, “…Blu!”
A silent pause ensued in the room before Mr. Wellington groaned to himself.
“Such a choice hardly merited the dramatic pause.” he commented jadedly before hobbling off towards the boiled wine table.
“I’m Emily,” the girl told her new pokemon and the Wooper blinked up at her curiously.
“A-are you my momma?” he asked in a little child’s voice only Emily could hear.
She stared at him for a second before hugging him again with a squeal.
“So cuuute, I love you so much!” she cooed, startling several people in the room, “I’ll be even better than that!”
“I’m going to be sick.” Angela sighed, causing her pokemon to dance to a halt next to her and grab onto her hand with two of her own, white ones.
“Don’t be like that,” Dee told her gently, “if nothing else, now we’re sure that she is a good person. A very, very good, loving person. And she’ll be a great friend to you.”
“Not if I have any say in it.” Angela muttered darkly.
Still ignoring her, Emily bounced off with her new friend, completely having forgotten about all the guests and her birthday party.
“I’ll show you around, Blu.” she cooed to the little pokemon, currently snug in her arms, “And you can be my First Mate on the Indomitable.”
After a pause, the little pokemon grinned, “Yay!” and after another, longer one, “What’s a Indominatable?”
Mr. Walter observed his daughter’s happiness with sheer warmth radiating from his pale eyes, but every now and then a concerned look would escape him and stray over to where Angela sat sulking. In all respects, the girls’ first meeting was a spectacular disaster.
After the party, he sat down with Angela’s parents and formed a pact to keep trying until the girls became friends, or at least tolerated each other, but from where he was standing (and knowing his daughter’s temperament), that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.
Here's a little thing I've been leisurely writing for a while now. It's not a serious piece of work (my serious pieces of work won't see the light of day for a loooooooooong time, hehe), just a thing I've been working on when I get tired of hysterically grammar-proofing everything and getting chewed up and spit out by my Beta (who, I hope...isn't a member of this forum... >.>)
Wait, what was I doing here...OH, yeah.
The rating is R, which will seem baffling for a long time, but this is one of those things that start off all cheerful and lighthearted and become increasingly disturbing as the plot progresses. Like in Harry Potter books where they start you off on vivid Christmas descriptions and chocolate frogs and kooky characters only to guide you into scenes of adult bodies with shrunken, wailing baby heads and mass genocide. ^-^
Also, in the leisurely spirit of the whole fanfic, the plot will progress slowly. VERY slowly. Don't expect spectacular battles or cliff-hangers any time soon. I know a lot of people aren't the type for this sort of thing and that's fine, but if you ARE, then prepare yourself for a light, leisurely read. For now.
Oh, also - I hate prologues, so I didn't write one.
OH - and I'm on British English, so all those extra 'u's and writing centre instead of center and words ending with -ise instead of -ize, that's on purpoUse. ;D
OH, one more thing! I bought a new pair of flip-flops. ^^ They rock. Best footwear - EVER! X}
♠.♣.♥.♦.~ Superhero Cowboy Space Pirates ~ ♠.♣.♥.♦
♥♥♥
Chapter 01: Crew of the Indomitable
♥♥♥
♥♥♥
Chapter 01: Crew of the Indomitable
♥♥♥
Somewhere along the course of September that year, the two families decided it was time for the girls to meet. In the cozy lounge of Goldenrod’s Country Club which was situated in the northern outskirts of Ilex forest, the parents discussed the first contact of their unique children, while outside the autumn wind caused luxurious amounts of golden leaves to set off from their mother branches.
Though some details varied in their views of how it should come to pass, all three people – Angela Byrde’s parents and Emily Walters’ father – agreed wholeheartedly over what was most crucial.
It was positively vital that they get along, preferably become friends.
The get-together was scheduled for September 14th. A Saturday. The day of Emily’s birthday, actually, from which, they all hoped, the Byrdes would leave as good friends as result of the girls’ first meeting.
When he got home from the meeting, Mr. Jeremy Walters immediately made his way to the private classroom, situated in the west wing of his mansion where he knew his eight-year old daughter was having a study session. Personally, he believed she was too young to begin her “education”, but it had been his late wife’s wish and Mr. Walters could not find it in his heart not to carry it out.
Jeremy Walters had always been a tad bony for his height and looked a bit tired for his age, but since his wife died he became a shadow of his former self. In the live-size portrait of himself that was hung in the mansion lobby, he was a twenty years old young man with thick, coal-black hair and kind, pale-blue eyes. His face had been pale and bony even then, but he had a broad smile on his face which seemed to light up his features.
Now, mere ten years later, his face was already wrinkled, his hair lined with gray strands and his eyes tired and somewhat watery in colour, as if worn out through arduous use. Though he was in his early thirties, he looked at least ten years older, if not more. A lot of times, people would think his little girl was actually his granddaughter. All around, he resembled a living antiquity, old and forgotten in some dusty place. His hands, lean and bony, always quivered ever so slightly which would cause his cup to make a curious, clattering noise against its dish whenever he was having tea.
Sometimes, Mr. Walters would make a dry remark how the only thing fueling his functions nowadays was the immense energy his daughter all but radiated. Even now, just standing in front of the room she was in, made him feel revitalized. He could hear her voice, sounding somewhat annoyed and high-pitched and realized, with a soft chuckle, that she was arguing over something with her tutor…again.
With no further hesitation, he grasped the doorknob and pushed his way into the classroom. His entrance elicited a cry of mixed joy and relief from the small-framed girl who was currently standing on top of her chair with one foot on the small desk in front of her which was covered in pieces of paper covered in doodles.
She looked as if she was about to throw something at the stoic young man behind the teacher’s desk when she spotted her father and grinned from ear-to-ear.
“Papa!” she cried out victoriously as she leapt down from her desk and rushed into his arms for a hug which Mr. Walters gladly accepted.
Emily was a tiny girl, even for her age, but she made up for what she lacked in size with tremendous energy, bordering on hyperactivity. After a lot of resistance, mostly on her Tutor’s part, Mr. Walters finally allowed her to have her dark-crimson hair cropped short, depriving it of its former, luxurious curls Emily inherited from her mother. Now her hair was longest at each side of her face, where it just barely reached under the line of her jaw while at the back of her head it was trimmed very, very short. She got her eyes from her father, but the way they were before – vivid pale blue and restless, always flickering left and right in search of something new to see.
They were a bit stormy now, though, as she raised them to meet her father’s amused look.
“Papa, Mr. Boot is annoying me again, make him stop!” she accused her tutor bitterly.
“It’s actually Mr. Wellington, Emily and I wasn’t trying to annoy you.” the young man said impassively as he approached them with a stoic look on his face. He used a cane with a plain, silver head as support for walking, as he limped heavily on his left leg due to reasons he never bothered to reveal to his employers. “I was merely pointing out that a young lady of your position should dress appropriately.”
“And what’s wrong with me?” she challenged defiantly, ignoring the amused chuckle her father let out at the question.
“Well, for one thing – it would be preferable you wore a dress, rather than trousers.” her young tutor pointed out reasonably, still steadfastly calm in spite of his student’s fury, “But if you must, then at least wear a pair that isn’t missing one leg.”
The girl glanced down at her jeans whose left leg was cut off neatly at around the middle of the thigh before glaring up at her tutor again.
“I wanted to make them into a shorts.” she barked.
“So why didn’t you finish?”
“I changed my mind!”
Mr. Wellington shook his head with a soft sigh before turning his calm, brown eyes to his employer.
“Mr. Walters, good afternoon.” he said, “How are you today?”
“Well, thank you Jacob.” Mr. Walters replied with a faint smile, before his eyes turned serious, “I’ve just come back from meeting the Byrdes.”
The young teacher’s already pale face seemed to turn even whiter and his solemn brown eyes strayed over to his little student with worry.
“Not wasting any time, are you?” he murmured pensively while tucking a loose strand of his dark-brown hair behind his hear. A second after, he broke into a smile, “Perhaps it’s better that way.”
“What?” Emily asked confusedly, never having seen her two favourite people in the world this serious. For old Mr. Boot it wasn’t so unusual, but her father always appeared lighthearted in her innocent, childish mind. “Whaaaaaat! What’s better? Who are the Byrds? Why’re you two so gloomy? I’ll stitch the leg back on!”
Mr. Walters just had to laugh fondly before he crouched in front of his daughter, the usual merry twinkle back in his eye.
“Emily, dear, the Byrdes are very important people to us.” he told her gently, “They have a daughter who’s a year younger than you and they’ll bring her to your birthday party next week. It is…very important that you and her get along.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Mr. Walter hesitated with his reply, as if weighing his words very, very carefully before he spoke on, “…because there will come a time in your life when she will be the only person in the world who can understand you.”
The girl tilted her head a little, much reminding of a curious puppy, as she squinted up at her father suspiciously. She could tell there was something fishy about the arrangement, but her young mind still couldn’t discern exactly what it was.
“Well…as long as I get presents, it’s fine with me.” she finally said, proud of her diplomatic reply.
Mr. Wellington sighed with an exasperated roll of his dark-brown eyes before he hobbled back to his desk.
“We’ll cover the fallacy of happiness which material possessions bring in tomorrow’s lecture.” he muttered to himself more than anyone else. “But now we should really get back to today’s lesson.”
“Fair enough.” Mr. Walter agreed as he rose from his crouching position and made his way to the door. Before he left the room, he glanced at his daughter over his shoulder.
She grinned and waved. He smiled.
“Now, then…” Mr. Wellington sighed as he beckoned his student to approach his desk which the girl – not without grumbling – did, “Let’s pick up where we left off. Choppy!”
The creature called ‘Choppy’ was a tiny, yellow mouse-like being with huge, pitch-black ears and a pair of curious, brown eyes. It was a young Pichu and it poked its tiny head out of the end of Mr. Wellington’s brown coat sleeve. It liked to curl up in there, as there was plenty of room around the young teacher’s slim arm – like a miniature, shifting tunnel.
“Chuuuu!” it cried out in pretty much the same manner someone would shout ‘ta-daa’ and easily jumped out of its hiding place, not missing the chance to nudge its master’s palm with its head first, and landed on the top of the teacher’s desk.
It sat up on its hind legs, took a moment to look pensive before it cleared its throat and let out a series of squeaks and squeals.
“Chuuu-pi-chuchu-pichu…CHU! Pi! Pichu-chu. Chuuu-PI!” it declared and looked really proud with whatever it was it said.
“Alright, then.” Mr. Wellington said with thick dignity, “What did Choppy say, Emily?”
“He saaaaaid…” the girl trailed off, sounding bored while her eyes drifted to the window, “That it’s time for a cocoa break!”
“Miss Walter-“
“NO, that a gigantic metemor is approaching the Earth-“
“Meteor is the word you need, I believe.”
“Yeah and that only I can save everyone with my pirate superhero powers! WOOOOSHHHHH!” she set off, running around the room with her arms outstretched like wings, “Come on, Mr. Boot, what are you waiting for!? Get to the shelter!”
“Emily.” the one, solemn word snapped the girl out of her playful actions and she trudged back to the desk, half sprawling across it, her chin resting on her folded arms.
“He said…something about his ears, I dunno…” she sighed exasperatedly, cringing immediately at her tutor’s disapproving look.
“Please take this seriously, Miss Walters.” he told her sternly, “We’ve been through this – you must focus. This is a pokemon familiar to you and yet you can’t understand him. In one week you will receive a pokemon you’ve never met before – your partner.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t believe you do.” Mr. Wellington insisted and this time he looked very nearly irritated. It stood out sharply against his usually calm demeanor. “You’ve been born into something very unique, Miss Walters. Not to take advantage of your gift is a blatant slap in the face to whichever power bestowed it upon you. Not to mention your future-“
He seemed to check himself just short of finishing his sentence and that alone caused Emily to prick her ears curiously, he pale blue eyes searching her teacher’s face intently.
“What?” she sprang up and climbed the desk until she was kneeling on top of it, next to the very bemused-looking Pichu, “Whaaaaat!? My future what? Come on! You and Papa are both mean, you never tell me stuff!”
“If you want to be told important things,” Mr. Wellington informed her icily, “then prove first that you are worthy of hearing them.”
Emily’s pale blue eyes froze over until they became icy like glaciers and her jaw squared as she whipped around to the Pichu, slamming her little hands at each side of it.
“Fine!” she snapped furiously, “Let’s hear that again, Choppy!”
The little pokemon nodded and cleared its throat before it started over again.
“Chuuu-pi-chuchu-pichu…”
♥♥♥
A week passed swiftly by, bringing cold autumn winds to ruin the Indian Summer earlier than usual. The sky was dark gray for days, the streets likewise, but the treetops still blazed in all the shades of yellow, orange and crimson. Still, even the warm colours of autumn foliage couldn’t soften the bitter cold wind that ripped through everything in its path.
In cities, people remained home, in forests pokemon hid from the cold. When Emily’s birthday, that joyous occasion, finally arrived, the entire world appeared deserted.
Still, the large Walters’ mansion was warm and all its rooms decorated in a cozy manner by Emily’s late mother who loved fireplaces and soft, exotic rugs of fiery colour that were so thick that your feet sank into them at each step. There was plenty of warm cocoa and boiled wine and cakes so chocolate you forgot anything else existed. The guests were enjoying themselves immensely, engulfed in warmth and friendly chatter.
Emily was bored for most part, as there were few children there and those who came were mostly already young snobs at their age. The atmosphere was pleasant, though, and everyone was nice to her, giving her presents and saying their earnest congratulations. She felt so at ease that she seriously pondered crawling into one of the comfy armchairs and dozing off under a warm blanket. Preferably next to a steaming cup of cocoa.
She was sitting at a small coffee table with her father and Mr. Wellington when she heard her tutor’s breath hitch and looked up at him to find his face even paler than usual and he looked like he was listening for something.
The next second, the doorbell rang.
“Emily,” Mr. Wellington’s voice startled the girl and she looked up into his serious face, “an old friend of mine is here. He is a teacher for the Byrdes’ daughter the same way I am for you. Please be on your best behavior and show him respect – he is a war veteran.”
“Ah, so they’re here already.” Mr. Walters sighed fondly and rose from his chair, brushing some imaginary dust from his brown vest, “Let’s go meet them, dear. And what Mr. Wellington told you goes for the whole Byrde family – be polite to them as well.”
The girl rolled her eyes and shuffled off the chair, struggling with her indigo, overly lacy dress.
“Should I be disturbed because I felt I had to point that out?” Mr. Walters asked pensively and Mr. Wellington shrugged with jaded stoicism.
“Considering her age, not at all, sir.” he sighed, sounding somewhat tired before his dark brown eyes narrowed disapprovingly at his student who was already halfway across the room, “On the other hand, the fact she’s wearing her jeans under her dress…”
♥♥♥
Mr. Terrence Wolfe was a peculiar presence to say the least. Certainly not at all what someone would imagine a tutor looked like. Very tall and broad-shouldered, he had wild, light brown hair which framed his face both in the sense of some loose strands that fell down his cheeks and the thick, scruffy beard that framed his jaw. He was dressed in a way Emily wasn’t used to as well – in old, faded jeans and a heavy, brown overcoat that had seen better days. Most peculiar thing about him, however, was – beyond all contestation – the black eyepatch he wore over one of his gray eyes.
“Mister,” Emily said slowly, having just bounced into the lobby from the guest room and taken a good look at the single guest who waited there, “you’re the coolest person EVER!”
She pounced nearer immediately, her blue eyes alit with curiousity as she grabbed the end of his left sleeve and inspected it.
“Wooo-oow!” she gasped out in sheer awe, “Fingerless gloves! Oh! A ring with a skull! And the eyepatch! Are you a pirate?”
“Emily!” her tutor’s horrified voice startled her and she felt two hands land on her shoulders, pulling her away from the object of her inspection, “What did I just tell you!? You shouldn’t- er-“
He paused for a moment to stare at his old friend disbelievingly before he exploded.
“Terrence, what in God’s name are you wearing?” he snapped at the much larger man who looked decidedly pleased with himself.
“The same thing I always wear.” Terrence replied smugly, his grey eye twinkling with mirth, “I don’t see why that should surprise you.”
“You’re a teacher now!” Mr. Wellington all but barked back, making Emily do a double take up at him, never having seen the man lose his cools like this, “You could at least make an effort to look a bit more normal.”
“I reckon I’ll do that when you make an effort to be less stuck up.” the large man said with a mischievous wink, directed at Emily who giggled and glanced up at her teacher cheerfully.
“He really nailed you, Mr. Boot.”
“Mr. Boot?” Terrence guffawed with laughter, earning himself a withering glare from the smaller man and then he waved it off casually, leaning towards Emily instead, “You know, you’re every bit the little devil your teacher here wrote me about.”
Emily grinned up at him full out – it was the best compliment she’d gotten in a while now. Returning her grin, the large man searched the pocket of his coat hurriedly.
“That is why I am absolutely sure you’ll like the birthday gift I brought you.” he added before looking exaggeratedly worried, “I just hope I didn’t forget it…”
“You didn’t, you didn’t! What is it, what did you bring me!?” Emily squealed with joy and broke away from her tutor to grab onto one of the large pockets on Terrence’s coat and peer into it eagerly, “Is it a ferret!?”
“No, something better.” Terrence laughed heartily and finally pulled his gift out of somewhere inside his huge coat, presenting it to the girl victoriously. “Happy birthday, little miss.”
“Oh my goooosh!” the girl practically screamed with joy as she snatched it from the large hand, much to the disapproval of her teacher.
“Really now, that hardly seems appropriate for-“
“PAPA!” Emily exclaimed as she pounced over to her father who just entered the lobby, smiling at his daughter’s enthusiasm before he even knew what was going on. She waved her gift at him, “Look! Look what Mr. Terrence gave me! It’s a real, pirate’s eyepatch! Isn’t it COOL!?”
“Very much, my dear.” said Mr. Walters, delighted at seeing his daughter so happy, “Maybe we can organize a treasure hunt for you one of these days? With a map and riddles?”
“Pffft, why go through all that trouble when I can just rob people!” the girl snickered to herself and put the eyepatch over her left eye, bolting off the very same second and disappearing through the door with a battle cry. “YAARRRR!”
Mr. Wellington cringed and then shot his old friend a fiercely disapproving look which only made Terrence choke up with laughter.
“Relax, would you, it’s not like I gave her a gun.” he said with a cheerful nudge before he grinned at Mr. Walters and bowed exaggeratedly, “Mr. Jeremy Walters! How long has it been, now? Ten years?”
“More or less.” the bony man replied with a warm smile as he shook the huge hand, “But please, you must be cold. Let’s move to the guest room. The Byrdes are arriving later?”
“Yeah, there was an issue with my young, genius student’s attire.” the large man replied, emphasizing the word ‘attire’ with a frilly gesture of his hand before grinning at his host, “Apparently, it’s not the same thing as a dress. I dun’ know nothing about that, so I high-tailed it out of there. You got something to drink around here?”
“We have boiled wine and cocoa…there’s kind of a theme going on.”
“That’s a start.”
♥♥♥
“Oh, Nigel, darling, isn’t this romantic?” chirped a blonde woman, dressed in an elegant beige raincoat as she all but twirled past the maid who’d opened the door to the Byrde family, “The rain and the wind – just like that fall when we got engaged! Do you remember, love?”
“Of course I do, my Treasure,” replied a short, wiry man with bright orange hair and scruffy moustaches of matching colour as he squelched inside after her, “We went for a ride in that gondola despite the rain.”
His wife giggled frilly at the memory, “My mother was so mad at us for getting wet!” then she seemed to remember something else and craned her neck towards the door, “Angela, dear, hurry up, you’ll get wet!”
“Not until you and father stop embarrassing me!” came a disgruntled shout, followed by what appeared to be a pink, plastic raincoat hanging under an umbrella of matching colour. Only when it snapped shut angrily was it possible to see that inside the coat was a seven year old girl with very light, blonde hair – flawlessly smooth and straight despite the rain – and disapproving, wine-red eyes.
She managed to look highly dignified as she took a critical glance around the premises, despite the fact that a small puddle of water was spreading from around her white boots.
“I guess this is fine if we don’t stay too long.” she commented before directing a sharp glare at her parents, “We won’t, will we?”
Her parents exchanged helpless looks before her father managed to look stern.
“Poppet, this is a very important day, we told you that.” he said solemnly. “You will make a lifelong friendship today, so try and keep an open mind.”
The girl wrinkled her delicate nose.
“Don’t say that like it’s already decided.” she huffed defiantly as she began to shrug out of her wet raincoat, mindful not to soak her hair, “What if I don’t like her? What if she’s terrible?”
Free from the raincoat which she coolly handed to the maid and now dressed in an impeccable white dress jacket and a flouncy pink skirt, Angela took a pokeball out of her pocket and released a small pokemon unceremoniously.
It was a short, bipedal little thing, no taller than two feet. Upon being released she let out a joyful cry and danced around her owner gracefully a few times before settling at her side. The green form covering her head which resembled a cap on its former evolution stage, now looked like a hair style with two red decorations at each side. Her red eyes were gentle and carefree and her white body with the area above her green legs that looked like a tutu, made her look like a little pokemon ballerina. When they stood side by side, it was difficult to say who had better posture – the girl or her pokemon.
Feeling a bit encouraged with her pokemon at her side, Angela glanced up at her parents, looking resigned to her fate.
“Let’s get this over with.” she sighed and, as if on cue, the door inbetween two flights of stairs which joined at the top opened and their smiling host walked towards them.
♥♥♥
Back in the guest room, when Mr. Walters left their company to greet the Byrdes and arrange the girls’ meeting, Terrence and Mr. Wellington suddenly fell serious, despite the lighthearted chatter that surrounded them.
Terrence took a long sip from his glass of steaming hot, cooked wine and directed an unusually serious look at his friend.
“So…it’s time already.” he sighed heavily and added, “Too damn early, Jacob. They’re babies, what can they do?”
“We have no choice.” Mr. Wellington replied grimly. “Remember, this issue was supposed to be dealt with a long time ago. Now the situation is becoming alarming.”
The large man glanced at his friend worriedly.
“I didn’t want to ask about that in the letters,” he grumbled, somewhat bitterly, “that brilliant student of mine has a talent for solving calculus problems and sniffing out secrets. I take it your research isn’t doing too well?”
“Oh, the research is fine, couldn’t be better.” Jacob sighed tiredly, “It’s the results that are worrying. It was barely noticeable back in the day, but now it stands out like a sore thumb. Less and less pokemon eggs are being created every year. Even those we find don’t hatch a lot of times. It used to be a rare exception, but now it’s becoming more frequent.”
“I could’ve told you that with no fancy research.” Terrence said darkly, “We had a hell of a time when we were looking for a partner for Angela. There just weren’t any young pokemon around…and she’s picky too. It took forever to find one she liked.”
“Yes, well, I hope she’s not as picky about friends.” Mr. Wellington said, looking slightly alarmed, “Emily is a bit- eh…but no, I’m sure they’ll get along fine. It’s their fate, after all.”
♥♥♥
Having agreed that it would be best if the girls met without any outside interference, the Byrdes and Mr. Walter left Angela to wait in a small library for Mr. Walters to find his daughter and send her there.
Little did they know that a predator was lurking from behind the heavy, indigo curtains, waiting for Angela to be alone.
When the enthusiastic parents left the room, the blonde girl gave up her dignified poise and plopped down onto a low stool, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm with a loud huff.
“I don’t want to be here, Dee.” she muttered miserably, “Whenever my parents pick out something for me it’s a disaster.”
The Kirlia called ‘Dee’ tilted her head up at her mistress, clearly affected by Angela’s ill mood.
“Well…” she replied telepathically, “…maybe- maybe…MAYBE she’s nice? And kind? And fun!”
She giggled and danced around the room with outstretched hands and the blonde girl snickered a little at the sight. Dee’s cheerfulness was always contagious, especially since the psychic pokemon always put all her energy to make it so. She spent so much time trying to get the hang of telepathic communication and transferring positive emotions in order to make her owner happy, the other psychic abilities she should’ve developed by now were quite poor.
Breathless from dancing, the pokemon halted in front of her owner, now truly enthusiastic about this whole deal.
“Maybe- maybe she likes to dance and- and- you could play together and sing,” she chattered with glowing eyes, “and stay up late and share secrets and eat candy and go on adventures and-“
“Okay, okay, don’t work yourself into a heart attack.” Angela laughed and leaned forward to hug her pokemon impulsively, now completely sharing her good mood, “You’re right, maybe it’ll be fun. After all, she’s a noble – how bad can she be?”
At that time, the lurking predator decided to spring.
“YAAARRR!” Emily screamed from the bottom of her lungs as she lunged from her hiding place, “YER MONEY OR YA LIFE, WOMAN!”
Angela jumped away from the screaming wild girl who was wearing a torn and dust-stained blue dress over a pair of jeans, as well as an eyepatch and a butchered birthday cap that was supposed to resemble a pirate’s hat. The blonde girl stared at the strange child for one, frozen moment and then she took a deep breath.
And screamed from the bottom of her lungs.
Overwhelmed by her mistress’ terror, Dee joined in with a high-pitched, continuous wail.
Emily cringed and covered her ears with her hands frantically, trying to block out the horrible noise. After a minute or so, Angela ran out of breath and stopped screaming, instead settling for staring at the strange girl in horrified outrage.
When she realised the noise was gone, Emily let go of her ears and glared at the hysteric blonde girl.
“Jeez, you don’t have to be such a drama queen!” she snapped with a mixture of apology and annoyance, “I wasn’t really going to rob you! Er...or kill you.”
Angela managed to scrape up the last shreds of composure she had left and piece them together so she could speak coherently.
“You…you scared me to death!” she croaked out lividly, her voice now weak from the previous abuse, “Are you insane!?”
“No, I’m a pirate.” Emily replied defensively. “Can’t you see the eyepatch?”
Before Angela could reply, her mother, white as a sheet, barged into the room, followed closely by her husband, Emily’s father and Terrence and Mr. Wellington who’d all hurried over when they heard the scream.
The blonde woman rushed to her daughter immediately and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Angela, what happened, are you okay!?” she asked breathlessly, though she was calming down already.
“Nothing, just that this lunatic scared me to death!” the blonde girl hissed, casting a venomous look at Emily who gaped back in disbelief.
“Wha- hey!” she snapped back angrily, “I was only playing pretend! It’s not my fault you’re a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken, it’s YOU, you jumped out screaming like a-“
“Chi-i-cken! Buk-aaw, little chicky!”
“Stop that!” Angela snarled, now crimson red in the face. “At least I’m not crawling behind curtains in filthy tatters!”
“Oooh, chicky’s angry now!”
“Emily, that’s enough.” Mr. Wellington scolded the girl sternly, “Angela is out guest and- wait, no, really – what happened to your clothes?”
“I’m a pirate,” she replied sullenly, clearly seeing no need to further elaborate.
“Oh, so all pirates dress like ragamuffins?” Angela snapped at her venomously, causing her mother to let out an outraged gasp.
“Angela!”
“No, only the fearsome crew of the Indominatalable!” Emily replied with thick dignity.
“Indomitable!” Mr. Walter groaned helplessly, causing Terrence to snicker and nudge him.
“Well now, no harm done.” Mr. Walters declared good-naturedly as he approached his daughter and took her by the shoulders, “Why don’t you all join the other guests for some cake while I take Emily for a change of clothes.”
“They look upset, maybe they should go home.”
“Emily!”
♥♥♥
Some fifteen minutes later, Emily was back among the guests, now dressed in a white, lacy dress though she refused to take off the eyepatch and it was now perched on the top of her head. She needed both eyes to unwrap her presents.
“Here, dear, this is from the Byrdes.” her father told her with a warm smile as he passed her a box, wrapped in golden decorative paper.
His daughter scowled in Angela’s general direction as she unwrapped her gift, revealing it to be an adorable, stuffed Furret doll with a blue ribbon around its neck. The girl sized it up before glaring at Angela sourly.
“Did she pick it?” she asked icily, causing the other girl to grimace.
“Of course I didn’t, I’d rather shake hands with a Muk.” came a hissed reply.
“Then I love it!” Emily declared with a sweet and icy smile and hugged the toy theatrically before moving on to another gift.
One bicycle, a chemistry set, several gorgeous dresses and a lot of stuffed pokemon dolls later, Emily’s father appeared with a broad grin and a dark-blue present with a golden bow and little stars scattered across the wrapping paper. It had holes on each side and something was scuffing about inside it as Mr. Walter gingerly placed it in front of his daughter.
“Happy birthday, my dear.” Mr. Walter said warmly before he leaned in and kissed the top of his daughter’s head, murmuring into her hear, “Gently now – it’s still a baby.”
With an excited squeal, Emily assaulted the wrapping paper and soon tore enough away to pry the box open and peer inside it over the edge.
Hesitantly, a small, round blue head appeared, with little, pink antennae-like extensions on each side and tiny, brown eyes – curious, but slightly frightened as well. The antennae wiggled as the little head traversed around the edge of the box, the little blinking eyes exploring the surroundings and all the people gathered, before it came nose-to-nose with its new owner.
“W-woopah?” it mewled softly and Emily pulled away a bit with a look on her face, difficult to read.
“It’s- it’s so-“ she stammered, looking uncharacteristically serious before breaking into a grin and all but diving into the box to scoop the little creature up for a hug, “So cute! Waaaah, it’s so adorable! I love, love, LOVE you so much! Oh, you cute, little, adorable thing, you’re SO cuuuuute!”
“You said that already.” Angela grumbled sourly, something about Emily’s enthusiasm grinding on her nerves.
But her comment went unnoticed as the other girl was too busy huggling the little pokemon who, shocked at first, now looked overjoyed by the attention.
“Cute, cute, cute, cute!” she squealed happily, not even noticing Mr. Wellington who was suddenly studiously by her side.
“Miss Walters, that there is a Wooper.” he told her academically, “A bipedal, amphibian water fish-“
“Thank you!” he was cut off by an overjoyed squeal as Emily, the little pokemon still nestled in the crook of her arm, pounced on him and hugged him around the middle, “Thank you, I love it, thank you! Papa!”
She broke away from her stunned and embarrassed teacher and pounced at her father who was much more willing to accept a hug.
“Thank you!”
No longer able to withstand such intense joy holding still, Dee giggled and broke away from her owner, dancing around the room with cheerful grace.
“D-Dee, get back here!” Angela snapped, furiously red in the face, but her pokemon seemed to be in a trance.
The blonde girl ground her teeth and settled down, now in a really foul mood. She couldn’t really get angry at her partner for disobedience when she remembered how their own first meeting had passed – with Angela coldly sizing up the little Ralts that had timidly grasped the end of her skirt and saying, “It’ll do, I guess.”
She had deprived a wonderful pokemon from a joyful beginning of their union, it would be really cruel to forbid her to enjoy someone else’s, at least.
Unaware of her least-favourite guest’s discomfort, Emily held up her pokemon, rubbing her nose against the front of the Wooper’s face, where she imagined his would be if he had it, before pulling away to size him up critically.
“I’m going to call you…” she said ponderingly, before breaking into a grin again, “…Blu!”
A silent pause ensued in the room before Mr. Wellington groaned to himself.
“Such a choice hardly merited the dramatic pause.” he commented jadedly before hobbling off towards the boiled wine table.
“I’m Emily,” the girl told her new pokemon and the Wooper blinked up at her curiously.
“A-are you my momma?” he asked in a little child’s voice only Emily could hear.
She stared at him for a second before hugging him again with a squeal.
“So cuuute, I love you so much!” she cooed, startling several people in the room, “I’ll be even better than that!”
“I’m going to be sick.” Angela sighed, causing her pokemon to dance to a halt next to her and grab onto her hand with two of her own, white ones.
“Don’t be like that,” Dee told her gently, “if nothing else, now we’re sure that she is a good person. A very, very good, loving person. And she’ll be a great friend to you.”
“Not if I have any say in it.” Angela muttered darkly.
Still ignoring her, Emily bounced off with her new friend, completely having forgotten about all the guests and her birthday party.
“I’ll show you around, Blu.” she cooed to the little pokemon, currently snug in her arms, “And you can be my First Mate on the Indomitable.”
After a pause, the little pokemon grinned, “Yay!” and after another, longer one, “What’s a Indominatable?”
Mr. Walter observed his daughter’s happiness with sheer warmth radiating from his pale eyes, but every now and then a concerned look would escape him and stray over to where Angela sat sulking. In all respects, the girls’ first meeting was a spectacular disaster.
After the party, he sat down with Angela’s parents and formed a pact to keep trying until the girls became friends, or at least tolerated each other, but from where he was standing (and knowing his daughter’s temperament), that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.
♥♥♥