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Obsession (ongoing, PG-13 overall)

OH HO HO THIS IS DELICIOUS

Hey, even though it took me two months and a dissapointing permaban to finally get myself to review your fic, I think I can sum what I like about it in a few words:

EVERYTHING WAS SO BEAUTIFUL IT WAS LIKE MY MIND WAS EXPANDING INTO THE COSMOS I CAN'T STOP READING THIS MAKE MORE BEFORE I EXPLODE WITH ANTICIPATION SGBEFJFSBUDCVYSXHTSBHECHEVBRDBHRQYKH

Thank God I got that out of my system.

Noob out.
 
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Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
Hahaha thank you! Any specific thoughts?

I have to say that I can't see that link. It leads to a list of videos.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
Pffft hahahaha.

Well, I'm glad you like the story with such enthusiasm!
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
Oh goodness I have no idea. I've been working on it since basically the last chapter was over and yet I'm kinda slow.

As you may have noticed.

But next part is a lot more development and something big happens at the end.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
Finally, chapter 23! And before anyone asks, no the guy near the end of the chapter is NOT Petrel. He's just some guy. Also I keep mentally subtitling this chapter "The Adventures of Aspie Boy and Bipolar Girl".






Veronica couldn't stop giggling, with a skip in her step as she paid our fares and headed to a seat in the back of the bus. I followed, sitting across the aisle from her. The bus was nearly deserted, with only a few locals about. The area she lived in was just north of the predominantly farm country that Asaph's home lay in, although his was some ways away. It was an unflinching place, where life droned on without incident yet personalities were laid bare and blunt. Far too quiet for my tastes, to say nothing of too impolite.

She took my hand and patted it. "You look like you've never been on a bus before."

"I take the bus sometimes. To downtown mostly." Although given Seafoam's small size, it was more of a shuttle, despite being called otherwise.

"It's a nice feeling, being so free, isn't it?"

I looked around. The bus was clean, with only a lingering diesel smell to give away the more unsavoury associations with this mode of transportation. "It's better than I thought it would be," I admitted. "A bit bumpy though." The roads out there were considered region roads rather than those belonging to any set city, although we were inside the outskirts of the Viridian city limits.

"Yeah, that happens. Jiri..." Her tone changed, became softer, and her gaze wandered to the ground. "...I'm glad you're here with me. I hate being alone."

"I remember that, from that night in Goldenrod."

"You and I are very special people, aren't we?" Another aspect of the Goldenrod trip. Asaph's words lingered with us, working their way into our hearts and the depths of our minds. "We're better than most, right?"

She was ending everything with a question. "Are you not sure of that? Because I am."

She looked even further away, turning her head towards the front of the bus but not looking much at it. "All this pageantry gets to me after a while. It's so artificial."

That was certainly understandable. "Yes, it's not very charming. Your mother may be a nice person, but she's a terrible designer." Having to buffer something negative with something positive, although I didn't think I meant the compliment.

Green eyes back at me. "Oh, I like my dress. I like it a lot. Yours though..." She giggled again, which was encouraging. "Honestly I'm not sure what she was going for. I think she saw a painting and decided to make it into a trainer outfit. I think it takes more than some sturdy shoes to accomplish that."

"True, true. Although I think yours would be better without the hat."

Was she insulted or just kidding me? She harrumphed and sat back in her seat, slouching in a way Asaph would never allow. "I like my hat! It's kicky." But then she laughed again. "And it keeps Ralts with me. It's just tall enough to keep a pokéball on my head. But don't tell anybody. Mom would be mad that I'm messing my hair."

The words /Among other things/ came to mind and I wasn't sure why, but I figured it wasn't time to say it.

"You aren't very interested in pokémon, are you?" she asked abruptly, and it took me a moment to hear her.

"Oh? No, not really." I sat forward at that, still looking at her. "Other than Lugia, but it's a world apart."

I thought she would ask why, but she didn't and I was glad for it. "...Cresselia is supposed to be really lovely. I wish I had it today."

"Well, you just had your birthday. Perhaps you'll be surprised at Christmas."

She sighed. "...Your birthday is coming up. Is there anything you want?"

Without thinking, I said "If I had Lugia, we could just fly there."

It garnered a laugh, and I felt a wave of embarrassment. "I can see you doing that when no one's looking. Taking it out of its display and flying around on it." She made fluttering motions with her hands as she added "maybe with a scarf and goggles, like a gentleman aviator. Oh, and driving gloves! Can't forget those!"

"I wouldn't do that," I muttered, turning towards the window. "I was kidding. One doesn't ride on Lugia."

Another sigh. "You're so confusing. I know you want to soar across the sky on Lugia. And I know you adore it, but your voice gets so dull when you talk about it." In the reflection, I could see that she was staring out her own window, her back to me. "I tend to think that you're reigning yourself in, like if you let yourself get excited about it, you wouldn't be able to keep up your decorum. But I don't know if you're actually that way or not."

"How long were you planning this?" Perhaps a jump of subject, but it had been on my mind. "You had the money on hand, and exact fare at that, even though you're still in your clothes from the show."

She giggled as she had before. "I told you I'd have to go off somewhere with you, didn't I? Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not that I had much of a choice. I suppose I could have resisted, but it would have been ungentlemanly to do so. "I hope you told someone."

"They heard me." That was true, there'd been several designers around her at the time she told me. "We'll be back before the end of the party anyway. Mom and dad won't even notice that we're gone. Asaph might, but we'll be there before he knows it."

That made sense. Viridian downtown wasn't very far, and the trip was over in about fifteen minutes. By that time, the bus had filled up more than half, and many people stared at us in our new designer outfits. But it only made us laugh, their disbelief at what they'd all gobble up the moment it hit shelves. Maybe to them it was like seeing the future, Veronica and I harbingers of what was to come.

I was half tempted to say something to that effect when we disembarked, Veronica grabbing me by the wrist again and pulling me from my seat, but for some reason neither of us could stop laughing by that point.

I'd had my apprehensions about the sudden trip, but once we arrived amidst the towering buildings, those feelings dissolved into the fragrant air. Viridian always smelled of flowers, of plants, known as it was as the Eternally Green Paradise.

To be young and carefree in the big city...that was a wonder of the world, a work of art by itself. We were independent, living by our own means, and no one could tell us what to do.

She still held my wrist even when she stopped at a corner. "So where should we go? Want to get some lunch? I haven't eaten all day."

I thought back to my breakfast of reheated doria. Keeping my money secret from my father meant still dealing with whatever he filled the refrigerator with. "I'd like that."

"Did you bring any money? I mean, if you didn't, I can pay for it, it's no problem, but..."

"I have some. I didn't know if the servers would be tipped at the party, and I brought some in case they would." My wallet was stuffed into my pocket, and I was glad that it didn't show from the outside or Tierney likely would have demanded that I hand it over before heading out onto the runway.

"And here you were getting on my case for bringing money," Veronica snickered.

The difference there was that she'd brought exact change. Hadn't I said that on the bus? She got dismissive when I said so then, but now she was just smiling. "You're confusing too," I replied.

"Let's all be confusing!" she exclaimed loudly, smiling broadly. "The world is confusing! Let's rise to the challenge! Come on!" And then she scampered off, to the next corner, where she turned on her heel and waited with her hands behind her back.

By the time I caught up with her, she'd done a few spins in place. "You're going to get your dress all sweaty," I chided, but I got the feeling she wasn't paying attention.

"Ooooooh, look at that!" she announced, pointing dramatically at an old-looking hotel. "They have a western tea service! Let's go!"

I would have protested, but her bringing attention to the subject of food had brought to mind that I was quite hungry myself, so I followed along.

The interior, past the uniformed doorman who held the doors for us, was broad and tall, with vaulted ceilings and thick metal rails down the staircase that trailed up a side of the room to a mysterious balcony with tiny black and white photographs dotting the wall. It took almost no effort to imagine the place playing host to the worlds' elite, to picture this being a centerpoint of prestige.

As I looked around, marvelling at the moulding and detail, I could hear Veronica asking for a seat for two in the dining room. Glancing over at her, I couldn't help but think how she breached the worlds. Still very much a child, that much was clear by looking at her in all her frills and ribbons. But acting very much as an adult, that much was clear by her composed boldness.

But Asaph had told us to hold onto our youth, despite our maturity, so I wondered if I could live in this time and be nine for longer than I logically could. It was impossible, of course, but ah, such a dream.

We were led to a tiny table near the centre fixture of the room, big enough only for the two of us, with her purse having to take rest wedged behind her back. That fixture loomed over us, a giant round sitting structure with an inner rise crowned by an opulent blooming plant, and decked with plush seats. One of them was next to us, pulled up to our table as if expecting an uninvited guest. But Veronica and I sat across from each other, and she smiled as if she had done this every day.

"I love tea, the whole service. Something about food being so much more special when it's small and ceremonial, you know?"

I glanced at the small glossy menu set before us, next to the prearranged teacups with double chargers and faux-silver table setting. "I suppose. Domestic tea ceremonies can't hold my attention, but I appreciate the sentiment. I've never had a western tea before."

She giggled as she sorted through the small basket of jams that sat at the edge of the table. "The tea tastes so good though! You should try to sit through one. The reward's well worth it. But you don't get little cakes with it. Ooh!" Selecting a tiny glass jar from the basket, she opened it with a flourish of her wrist. "I love marmalade. Mama tells me I have to watch my weight, but things like this...well, she's not here, is she?"

I took a jar of strawberry preserves. "Something a bit sweet. I suppose this means the scones will be rather bland."

She looked at the menu as well. "Probably." Leaning in conspiratorially, she confided "I can never eat those without getting crumbs everywhere. It's a good thing Asaph isn't here either!"

"A lack of authority figures is certainly exciting," I agreed. "What are we going to do after this?"

Leaning back, she smirked. "How about you pick the next activity?"

"Oh well then!" But despite my enthusiastic reception to this idea, I had to pause to think. I hadn't seen much of Viridian. "Well...I think we're just a few blocks from the art museum."

Veronica scoffed, her expression turning to a frown. "Jiriiiiiii" and it came out in a long high tone "We do that so much! Viridian is a big city!"

"But they have a new exhibit," I told her. "That'll be something we haven't seen before, and I don't think Asaph will take us to it." It was on automobiles, the classic designs rarely seen in modern builds. Asaph didn't appreciate the artwork of machinery, considering it far too practical to be viewed as proper art. But I disagreed. A sleek design was as artistic as any jewel or painting.

"Aah fine. I guess I did let you pick. You're so boring sometimes!" But she was smiling again anyway.

A server appeared, seemingly out of thin air given our distracted attentions. "Are you ready to order? Two Peter Bunearies?"

That was the name that was given to the insultingly base children's menu, and Veronica shook her head. "Absolutely not! We'd like the full service, please."

The woman eyed us for a moment. While the full service menu was far more to our tastes, it was also three times more expensive, and there were two of us. "All right, of course."

We placed our orders and Veronica adjusted her hat. "I swear, the nerve of some people," she said, ensuring that Ralts's pokéball was firmly in place. "Assuming something like that. We're almost adults."

"I remember that story," I commented. "The one the service is named for. A Buneary sneaks out and gets into all sorts of trouble."

Veronica laughed, the dainty society laugh we were taught. "Ah yes. One would think a Buneary wearing a jacket would be a giveaway that it was special."

"Didn't he lose his jacket at one point?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. It's been years since I've read that."

"Me too..." There was something lost there, wasn't there? It was supposed to be a childhood canon, part of the means that form us, and we'd both forgotten how it went.

"There's someone at school who named their Nidoran Peter, because of its ears," she mused softly. "But when it evolves, the name won't fit any more."

The tea came and was poured elegantly into cups, the leaves falling into metal nets placed over the teacups. We waited until the waitress was gone to continue our conversation. I'd ordered a light tea from China and sipped at it although it was far too hot to do so. Veronica stirred in some honey to her herbal tea and waited. "Have you given any thought to naming your Ralts?" I asked as she tapped her spoon at the side of her cup. "Or will you?"

"I'm not sure. I can't think of any name that would suit her. But Ralts aren't like humans. In the wild they don't give each other names."

"Are there any species that do?" I asked.

"Jynx do. They have a pretty complex language, although they have difficulty speaking most human languages. Something about the way their throats are formed. Aaaaand..." That tapping again, though her spoon was clean of tea, and she looked up at the ceiling, speckled with paint to give the impression of wear and age. "And I think Yamask do but that whole thing is really creepy...'

I'd heard of them, those creatures that were said to have once been human. I wasn't sure if that was true or not, but they were often found in ancient tombs and had taken on the death masks of those buried there. And they guarded treasure, things they never used but prevented anyone from taking. How silly of them. The dead person wasn't about to enjoy such things, and the Yamask certainly weren't, so why not let the living take and enjoy the treasures within? To bury them was just a waste.

I must have been smiling because Veronica burst into laughter, louder than before. "Let me guess. Yamask to tombs to treasures to your collection, right?"

"You know me too well." She was only mostly right, as I hadn't yet connected it to myself yet, but it was certainly heading there.



The tea service was phenomenal. Elegant though accessible, with simple delicacies that satisfied my hunger for the finer things in life. But I must confess it distressed me. Such simple things and yet they were far more than my normal life. It was frustrating to bite into a delicious cucumber sandwich only to realize that even my father could make something like this and yet chose not to.

Veronica was her usual garrulous self, speaking of school, of home, of art and society. In turn I told her of my studies, of the clippings that decorated my room, of the madness that consumed Seafoam every summer surrounding the surfing competition.

"You know, my mother's had a few of her sportwear designs in that competition. The Humungadunga attracts a lot of athletes from around the world, so it's great press for her."

"I don't know how you can say that name with a straight face," I told her, admiring a painting on the wall. "I absolutely refuse to say such an inane name."

She chuckled. "Sometimes I think you're just a very tiny old man. You come off as so relaxed about things but sometimes your sense of humor just..." She trailed off, shaking her hands in the air to dismiss the unfinished sentence. "I know you have one though. That's more than some people. But you're not a very spontaneous person either, today excepted."

I leaned back in my chair, the plush walls of it taking the edge off the surrounding people as it blocked them from view. "Yes...I must admit that I thought I'd need more quiet. But the museum will provide that."

"Quiet?"

"Yes, after all the hustle and bustle of our outings, even our normal ones, I need solitude for a while to get my thoughts in order."

Veronica reached for the last of the tea cakes, a small lemon bar. "Mm, strong. You seem like you have your thoughts in order all the time. Nothing really seems to get to you."

I thought back to my outburst the year before, when I'd broken my father's book and stormed out of the house. "Not much, I suppose. Shall we move on? The museum awaits!"

She paid for both of us, something I'd wondered if she'd do, and we left, tumbling out of the doors as we both laughed for the sheer joy of our freedom. It had come on suddenly, exhasperatingly, and we willingly gave ourselves to the emotion. Being outdoors in the city was a thrill we'd yet to adjust to, and I hoped we never would. But Veronica lived here, albeit off in the distance, and it had yet to wear out in her mind, so I had hopes for the future.

The sights lay out around us, filling us with a sense of an exotic locale. Buildings wore faded paint ads for businesses that no longer existed, and large ancient vertical signs for things that did. It was a young city as far as the world knew, but it had seen its share of time pass by, and looked akin to some of the faraway cities I'd read about so longingly. Someday I'd see them, but for now their younger sibling would have to suffice.

The past century had seen a boom, and our route took us by several places that had been constructed in that fat era. We'd been relatively untouched by war, even though it had decimated places as nearby as Celadon, so we had far more of our past to bear. And it was beautiful to behold, the modern era rising and swelling around us with the bounty of endless energy. Wood gave way to brick, brick gave way to steel and glass, and all of it suited the city perfectly. Viridian, the eternally green paradise, was our present and we meant to enjoy it fully.

A park lay to our left as we continued on, block after block of tall trees and statuary, with people and pokémon taking up the benches that dotted the path. "We should go through there later," I pointed out.

Veronica glanced over, a spring in her step. "Eeeeh," she muttered. "That area smells bad. I think people sleep there."

That was a trainer's life, wasn't it? Going wherever, sleeping where they pleased, taking up space. None of them were even looking at the statues, and that was a pity far beyond anything else. "So close and yet so far," I murmured.

"You're doing it again," she chided me. "I'm guessing you had some thought that led up to that, but it didn't make any sense coming off of what I said. Remember, Asasph told you that you have to elaborate more so you don't come off as odd. Why do you do that, anyway?"

"I don't know. Things make perfect sense to me."

"We're not mind readers, Jiri," she giggled, but it was broken as she glanced back and forth as we passed by a bench dominated by drunken scofflaws and a shaggy Growlithe that may well have been inebriated as well. I could guess that she was trying to ignore them, based off her increase in pace.

"I do--" I was about to tell her that I don't suppose mind readers would be permitted to attend auctions when she grabbed my wrist, an action that made me pull my hand away. "I don't mind holding hands, but please try to show less force!"

Her brow was furrowed again; was she trying to concentrate? Was she upset? Perhaps she'd misread me. "Well, there's the museum."

There indeed. The building wasn't much on the outside, a misleading box of brick propped up on a slab of cement that had been dotted by a few sculptures. It was easy to pass it by, to mistake it for something it wasn't, but the rewards inside were the whole of the world.

We together walked up the stairs to the front entrance, and I commented that they ought to have a doorman here as well as I held the steel-edged door for her. She didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the floor as she passed me by. A novel thing to do. I did the same as I followed her in, experiencing my familiar surroundings in a new way. How smart of her!

I noticed she didn't check her pokéball at the coat check although people were asked to do so. As much as I valued the rules of society, Veronica wasn't likely to make Ralts known at any point, so I figured it wouldn't be worth it to say anything. Not that a Ralts couldn't cause trouble in a museum, of course. But I knew Veronica.

She was laughing again, having received a compliment on her outfit from the clerk, and enthusing about her mother's design. The clerk was all too eager to see mine then, and I twirled around slowly just as I had a few hours ago. The attention was odd. We were here to see things, not to be seen, and I had the feeling of being on display myself. That would be interesting, I mused, to be the art itself and be admired by all who beheld me. Oh, what a dreamer I was!

But we were surrounded by the bounty of the world, and so personages had to be left at the door. Nothing was ever meant to surpass the art, and even the grandest person would be so much background noise before the pieces.

Veronica was already inside, looking around. "So where to first? The silver room?" That was her favourite, I recalled.

"I want to see the automobile exhibit." I thought I'd told her, but in retrospect I may have simply thought it. Even so, I was positive I'd said the new exhibit.

"Oh huh. It's closed today."

I stood still for a moment, staring at her. "But the museum's open."

She wandered over to a sign, taking an inordinate amount of time to do so. "It says that they have to have more security on it so they don't offer it every day."

Had she not understood me? "But the museum's open," I repeated, slower and more distinctive. Perhaps I'd rushed my words before, so I made certain she would hear me.

"I know that." She was slow and distinctive as well, staring back at me. "I can't do anything about that. We'll have to come back." Her mood had shifted considerably, away from the distinctly cheerful ebullience from a moment ago.

"Odd, I hadn't figured you to take much interest in that exhibit." I started heading in, passing the room of prehistoric continental art.

"What's that mean? You're so weird." After a chuckle, she followed along. "I hadn't figured you for a car guy either. You don't seem the sort."

I paused in front of an especially realistic sculpture of a working man. "The designs fascinate me. They're beautiful, to have a functional work of art. At least those are. Commonplace machines lose their beauty, not only because of their being everywhere, but because they're dumbed down. I wish I knew why they did that."

Veronica smiled. "Maybe they want to keep the special ones special. Like people, like how we're shining stars. We wouldn't be if everyone was."

That made as much sense as anything, although I doubt that was the aim of the companies. "We're very rare, that's certain. But I still want to see them."

"You can always come back. It'll be here for a while longer." She examined the sculpture, shivering slightly, before moving on to a red bench that wasn't for sitting.

"I suppose." I had to remind myself of that, that it would be there and I could see it. Otherwise I'd be very put out by the whole affair. What sort of museum couldn't afford basic manpower for its exhibits? It put a damper on the whole thing.

"You're frowning, right? It's hard to tell."

"Hmm?" I held a hand to my face, and sure enough the corners of my mouth were tightened down. "I suppose I am. It's frustrating."

"Tell me about it. This is what, the fifth time today that I've told you how hard to read you are? But I suppose that makes you a good dealer, since people can't tell what you're thinking. You'll be a wiz at negotiating."

That hadn't been what I meant at all. But she was right about the future, I hoped. "Once I have things to negotiate with. I've got my eye on a sculpture for sale downtown." One of the many art galleries in Seafoam had caught my attention with a piece of a Wingull nest, and I sensed that the price was due to skyrocket due to the market shifting towards natural scenes. "How boring though."

"I missed something, didn't I? Let's go to the silver room!" She reached for my hand again, this time more genteelly, and we went off together, me biting back that she was doing the same thing I did.




What a brilliant event, the two of us wandering the museum of our own accord! From the silver room to the ancient treasures of the Orange region (none of my brilliant Lugia, though) to paintings from a distant continent and era, we were free to behold whatever we pleased. Free in a world of beauty and perfection, the highest freedom we could imagine. I never wanted it to end.

But of course it had to. Even paradise has its working hours, and the Viridian Museum closed its doors after far too short a time.

It was after dark, and Veronica pulled her fringed top tighter.

"If I had a jacket, I'd offer it to you," I told her, although it would make no difference for her to know a theoretical situation.

"I appreciate it. Chilly for this time of year."

"Oh?" I took in the night, the breeze between the buildings, the streetlamps over us, the people in the park across the way. "It's fairly warm for me. But Seafoam tends to be colder than further inland."

"In that case, I wish I had your fortitude," she murmured. "Let's get back to the bus stop in a hurry."

"All right." The shortest route was through the park, and I started off that way automatically.

"Jiri, where are--" Heaven only knows what she was planning on finishing that with. But she followed along a moment later, linking her arm in mind as she came up beside me. "Don't say anything, ok?"

I nodded. Was this a game? But I could play along, even if I couldn't tell her to do anything in return.

We continued through the park as she held tight to me, nearly through when one of the drunkards stepped out in front of us, smelling of all manner of debris and filth. "Going somewhere?"

Veronica kept me moving, trying to steer me around him.

He held out a rough, dirty hand. "There's a fee for fancy people to pass through. Hand over your money."

That was trouble. She broke away from me and we both started to run, and both of us were stopped by growling dogs. The Growlithe in front of me snarled, backing me towards her again, while she was cornered by a Houndour with its fur in patches. "...Jiri, why did you go through the park! You knew I didn't want to go through the park!" Her words were slightly drawn out and a bit higher and thicker than usual. "Aaah fine!" she exclaimed before I could answer. "I didn't want to have to do this, but go! Ralts!"

She'd taken off her hat and brandished Ralts's pokéball, triggering it to release the small psychic-type. Ralts appeared with a chirp of its name, twirling around in the air before landing in front of the Houndour.

Once she had sent out Ralts, attention seemed to be off me, something I was glad for. I wandered on the outskirts, not wanting to be involved but not wanting to abandon Veronica either. I could have run, but no gentleman would run. Would it be gentlemanly of me to try to fight the muggers myself? Asaph had never covered this situation, and Veronica had told me not to say anything, so I was puzzled in silence.

"Since I'm such a nice guy," the filthy man laughed, "I'll let you go first."

She was up against a massive type disadvantage, but she stood her ground. Her mouth tightened and eyes narrowed, pink dress looking inflamed under the streetlamp. "Ralts! Double Team!"

Ralts squealed and focused itself, creating identical false images of itself through force of will. The Houndour looked unimpressed, despite the ring of Ralts around it. With what seemed to be a roll of its eyes, it brought its teeth down on one at random.

All the images vanished. Bite had been super-effective, and Ralts was knocked out, tossed out of the Houndour's mouth like a toy. Veronica cried out and scrambled about with her hat, recalling Ralts and trying to hide the ball again.

"Say, that's a nice hat," the man said, approaching. "Would look awfully nice on Daisy here."

She took a step back. "...You can't have it!"

"Don't think you have much of a choice. Give it here, or I take it out of your friend here."

I felt that hand coming at me and ducked just in time. He managed a handful of blue fabric that I was grateful was slick, as it enabled me to slip out of his hold. He reached for Veronica, who was holding her hat down with both hands on the floppy sides. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Get away! Jiri, run!"

I couldn't leave her, so I darted only a short way, a few bench lengths to the end of the block. She was struggling with the man, who'd grabbed her hat and was pulling at the ribbon. After a moment that seemed to hang in the air, it ripped away from the hat, sending her tumbling back. But her hands didn't move from her prized crown, and neither the man nor his dogs seemed to have any interest in chasing us once they had extricated the ribbon.

She didn't speak either, just concentrated on running, and so did I. It was as if our very souls depended on it, no matter if they followed us or not. The city was reduced to its sidewalks, and nothing else mattered.

Reaching the bus stop was akin to finding a holy land, and I thought of a painting we'd just seen of exactly that. Veronica clung to the post that announced the times, swinging around it to bring herself to a stop, her breathing heavy from her open mouth. It was far too long before she said anything, and when she did it was low and precise. "Why would you take us through there? You saw those dangerous people and you dragged me in there anyway!"

I shook my head, not wanting to break my promise not to speak.

"Say something!" she yelled, clamping onto my arm with her hand tight. "Tell me why I lost my ribbon! Tell me why you're SMILING!"

I had been and knew it, thinking of that painting of the weary travellers reaching their destination. It had relaxed me, put me in a world apart from our terrifying reality. She told me to talk, but words jumbled around in my head. "...It was fastest," I managed, letting out a breath. "To cut through the park would take about three minutes off our walk."

"You didn't think!" Still yelling. "You didn't think about those people! You saw them on the way in! Didn't anything at all set off any red flags for you?"

I thought about it. I remembered a man with a Growlithe, but nothing had really stood out. "Really I didn't notice."

Another thing happened that I didn't expect. She brought her hand up and slapped me across the face, not very strong, but enough to get her point across. She was furious and made me know it. "I'm sick of this! You never notice anything! You get us into this situation and now I have to go home without my ribbon!"

She wasn't making any sense. We weren't here by my volition, after all. "But Veronica, it was your idea."

She shrieked, loudly, as a bus drove up and the door opened. "Everything ok?" the driver asked.

"Just frustrated," she told him. "Is this the bus to south Viridian?"

The driver laughed. "South Viridian? Hoo boy, no. That stops running at five."

Her eyes widened, and she looked down. "I see. That's ok. We'll find another way."

"Well, the pokémon center's about two blocks east from here. There's phones there if you need to call anyone."

"All right. Thank you, sir." Her voice was higher again, and softer, as she took a step back and waited for the door to close. As the bus drove off, the driver taking another look at us, she turned away. "...come on. I'm sorry for slapping you. It's my fault."

Was she still mad? Her fury seemed to have dissipated, but she'd said she was frustrated. I followed her. "I was smiling because I was thinking about a painting."

"What?"

"You asked my why I was smiling."

"Oh..." She let out a long breath. "We have to admit to all this. Our parents and Asaph are going to be completely furious. They've probably been looking for us. I didn't know it was so late."

I followed along without a word, not wanting to say anything even though I could. Trainers were so base, so far beneath us. How could people like that man be the ideal of most children? Neither of those dogs were of any value, and that's what battling did. That's what it did to people as well, made them value strength and intimidation above anything else.

"I have to heal Ralts first. But I should make the call. Yes..." Higher still, softer still, and I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or to herself.

The centre came into view, a rise of a building, a giant dome with a plaza of stairs in front. Veronica straightened her hat, said "Here goes nothing", and took a few marching steps into the street.

And then a car came from seemingly nowhere, turning in a wide berth and screeching to a halt in front of us. Asasph's car, unmistakably so. And he was driving it, rather than his usual chauffeur.

"Get in," he told us from the rolled-down window. I don't think I'd ever heard his voice so terse, nor him so short-winded.

"How did you find us?" I had to wonder.

"No talking, either of you." He hadn't bothered with driving gloves, and I could see in the light from the open door that his knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

As I slid in next to Veronica, she took my hand and gave it a squeeze. But this time I pulled it away, and we may as well have been half a world from each other.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
Pfft. [strike]that happened in a RP I was in once but it was post movie[/strike]

Nah I just found myself writing "nice guy" and laughing because I figured unless I said something, everyone would think he was Petrel.
 

Nurse Jenny

New Member
I literally have no idea what I'm doing, I haven't used a forum in forever and I was going to sign up and then I remembered I signed up a thousand years ago with this ridiculous username for whatever reason. (This is FYPV / Perosha.) But I just reread this last night because I put it on my Kindle, so I thought I might as well leave a review because I put it on my Kindle, come on. Also maybe it might inspire you to put up another chapter before you hit the one-year mark between them (hey, I can dream).

DISCLAIMER: I've only read the text of the story, not any of the in-between bits, so if you said something in there that would be relevant I have no idea what it is. Herp.

Anyway, I was going to just list things I liked about it and then I realized that would amount to "lol everything," so lemme try and be more articulate about it:

+ Worldbuilding. The anime is easily my favorite "world" in the Pokémon franchise, simply because it's the most expansive; fifteen movies and 750+ episodes where the main characters travel constantly can't help but create an interesting and vibrant world, even if we only see certain little slices of it from one particular perspective (and even if the nuts and bolts of how that society actually functions largely aren't evident from that perspective we're restricted to). So I inherently love any well-done fic set in the anime that branches out and shows us what life is like for anyone but one of the random few children traveling as trainers. And not only is Obsession set outside that familiar sphere, it's about a particularly interesting slice of society: the idle rich, who we see enough of to know that they're very much there, but who are really never explored in-universe, since none of the protagonists have ever come from wealth. So for me, Obsession doesn't feel like a fanfic in the sense of it being "added to" to the main world; rather, it's simply showing us the exact same world from a different perspective, one that Ash and his friends will never have.

+ Characters. Pokémon may be a franchise about sentient magical monsters who beat the tar out of each other, but for me, all the trappings of that don't carry much story weight; if you can't write characters who are believable, three-dimensional humans even after stripping away anything to do with Pokémon, then all the catching and training and battling in the world won't make your story interesting. But Obsession is exactly that: an immersive study of a character who doesn't have much to do with the omnipresent pocket monsters, and which doesn't use any of the "gimmicks" of Pokémon training to try and make the audience care about the character. (How many fics are there about an original trainer out on their journey? Countless. How many have a main character you'd want to read about even if they weren't a trainer? Precious few.)

Jirarudan's first-person narration doesn't just show us the world, it shows us his world, the world as he sees it, and hearing everything directly from him gives a really solid foundation to his characterization; you understand him both by reading the lines and by reading between the lines, so to speak. And while I think the gradual lengthening of chapters wasn't strictly intended for this purpose, to me it helps to convey the way he changes over the year-and-a-bit between chapter one and where we are now, opening up to the world. As he develops his outlook on life and becomes more observant, we the audience see more as well, because he is our guide. Additionally, his attitude towards the world and other people isn't typical, and that makes hearing his thoughts and observing his behavior more interesting by definition; for me, Jirarudan in Obsession is relatable enough to be sympathetic, but also just alien enough to be someone that you have to constantly pay attention to, to figure out what might be going on around him that he himself isn't perceiving. Because the character has such a strong, clear voice, the whole fic does too, and that's always a good thing.

(The other characters are all well-done as well, but I don't want to have to write a paragraph on each of them, so.)

+ Details. …a.k.a. those things the devil is in, haha. Strictly speaking I suppose this falls under worldbuilding, but by this I mean all the little nods to other people and places in the greater shared universe, whether it's Giovanni's involvement in Jirarudan's fortunes or the explanation for the Ancient Mew card in-universe. The blend of details the audience already knows with details that have been supplied by the author (ex. listing both the real Cresselia and the fakemon "Equuhorn" as other legendaries) creates a kind of mortar that holds the universe of the story together. The world is big, and if we as readers have only been exposed to some of it before, that's not going to stop those who live there from referencing people, places, and Pokémon outside of our knowledge with the same ease that they refer to things we've heard of. It can be hard sometimes to balance those sorts of "real-details" and "fake-details," but this fic does it perfectly, creating a seamless whole that never betrays the source material while giving it scope it at the same time.

I could probably go on about other things I like, but having a few solid categories makes it nice and organized, so I think I'll cut myself off here, haha. I don't really have any critiques as such, because I don't prefer to critique a work in progress, so I'll just say that I'm looking forward to the rest and will be happy to assess the thing cover-to-cover once it's finished someday. Thanks for writing this, and keep up the good work; I'll be back after the next update, whenever that will be!

(And in a puff of smoke, I shall now disappear back to my native habitat of Tumblr…)
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
And now I see the review well after that year mark has passed! Though I am working on the next chapter, so don't anybody think that I forgot about this! It's just been difficult lately--I've talked about this on my tumblr and on my LJ, but I've been suffering from some pretty intense pain that prevents me from sitting very long, so working on things like a fanfic is almost impossible. I have tumblr access on my phone if anyone wants to talk to me (blackjackgabbiani, all one word), but it's hard to write a several pages chapter on a phone with no real file ability. I already idled out of a roleplay over this too (though I do plan on reapplying when I get this fixed).

So bear with me! I do love reading reviews too, hint hint.

And yes, I love his perspective too. He has such a unique way of seeing things, even in the movie, and it's a perspective of so much vibrancy and life but also of such denial and blindness to the things that are obvious to everyone else. He's so convinced of things that he becomes an unreliable narrator in the truest sense--because he can't see outside his own view of things, so to him another side simply doesn't exist.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
oh wow another chapter!

I'm sorry this is so late! Anyway, here's chapter 24 all ready to go! (and just in time for your fanfic contest voting consideration wink wink)






I realised, as time went by, that my perception of my surroundings changed with experience. The familiar small town of Seafoam was dull and listless, but passing through a small town where I had never been brought my mind alive, and I wondered about all the people milling about, what filled their lives. Even the routes we took through the big cities had become tiresome, those scenes that had once magnetized my attention now mapped out in detail in my brain, but to take another path to even the same location reawakened me.

One thing that I never grew weary of was the destination, because it was always art. While I would be bored to tears with the same view, the same street, the same buildings, I could stare for hours at the same paintings, the same sculptures, the same silverworks.

I muddled through my schoolworks, barely paying them any of my distracted mind. What we were taught had nothing to do with my path in life, and I almost pitied those who it did. Almost, of course, because they had every opportunity to break from their grey paths and open themselves to the full colour of the world.

How foolish, to live willingly in that place! No, my world would be far distant from theirs, although we would occupy the same space. A world apart, on the same planet. How silly to think how simple it all had been so far, and how far I'd come in just a short time.

I reflected a lot on that of late, the ease in which I'd been able to achieve what I had. Surely this was destiny! I was meant to be a collector, and the thought was quite divine. Divine, of course, in the most literal sense. Such objects filled me with a fervor, knowing that I held around me something so immortal, so far beyond the everyday sphere.

And none was the wiser. That tiny room in my father's house, outcropped over the sea, contained the works of the world. Or what little of the world I could obtain, with my comparatively limited funds. Yet even that small fragment was a spectrum of wonder far greater than anyone around me could ever concieve.

Though surrounded by dinge and fade, I had my sanctuary. Along all walls, every space filled with treasures present or distant. Those I had truly garnered fanned out along the east wall, the single window there illumininating them at the day's dawn, that image the first thing I would see upon waking. My bed lay along the south wall, a simple thing beneath the window overlooking the ocean, so I disguised there and the west wall with images snipped from magazines of the finest things in life. To dismiss those as simple pictures! Alas, I remembered from what seemed like ages ago when they were remarked on as such, and couldn't help but chuckle. Even Helen was ignorant to their true nature, as I fully intended on acquiring each one of them in the future.

The closet, tucked away next to the door, was graced with a neat row of my new, more sophisticated clothes, with those my father had foisted on me hidden on a shelf across, so that they wouldn't sully my prefered wardrobe with their unwanted touch.

Perhaps an aside is in order. I kept them for appearances, how ironic! I would gladly be rid of them in an instant were it not for my father expecting to see me in them on certain occations of exclusively his own interests. He knew the importance of dressing well to meet his clients, but there it ended! A gentleman must be at his best at all public times, yet he clung to the excuse of simply not being at his office to explain away why he continued to wear such atrocities as tank tops and ripped shorts. Those things that he wore during construction! Their purposes ended at the factory door, yet he insisted! How terribly backwards. Simply the thought of it sent my spine shuddering. And I had to don similar wear despite discomfort from all angles at the act. Ah, how funny that even something as common as cotton could rise from the coarseness of those simple garments to the softness and elegance of a fine button-down with the proper guidance.

Ah, I digress. I had a goal for the day.

I closed the closet door behind me, sitting amidst my finery on a chest that held my out of season garments. This unfortunately meant that I was facing that which I described, but I wasn't looking at it. Taking out a hand mirror--a cheap purchase at a drugstore--I began to speak.

"Ahaha! Of course, the use of white conjures the idea of cold."

"Why my dear such-and-such, you look divine! It's been ages, darling."

"Charming, charming!"

Such pithy statements! Even Asaph knew that. But small talk and meaningless comments were an art onto themselves, one that collectors were expected to master. It was like a verbal dance, with the main movement of the body being unimportant and all meaning in the hands and face.

He told me to watch my tone, as it was often flat. I would be percieved as passionless if that continued, so I practiced the ups and downs of my voice as though I was a singer or a stage performer. I may well have been a stage performer, for all the rehearsal it required, but without a script to rely on. I would have to write my own script, with a mind to the rules that the dialogue be inane.

Whatever purpose it served, it seemed to be effective, for whatever strange reason that was beyond my understanding. People seemed to respond better to me when I said such things, so I had no reason to stop.

I think it was some sort of code. By saying things that no one would normally say, I established that I spoke their secret language.

Some of my pictures were held in that tiny room as well, integrated into this process. I moved one of the repulsive shirts aside and took up a stack of photocopies. This was what the mirror was for, in whole.

On the back of one I had written "happiness". The front had the image of a young woman with her mouth curved up to where her teeth were visible, and her eyes were narrowed from the movement. I wasn't sure what indicated happiness about it, but the photograph, taken some fifty years before and held in high regard among those who collected such things, was said to be exemplary in the subject's joy. And so I mimicked her smile, though to me it looked like any other. Adjusting my face to take on these unfamiliar expressions was strange, but it too seemed to have its purposes.

How odd though. I expressed myself, and obviously at that, never trying to obscure myself. This seemed as though I was exposing too much of my heart, yet Asaph called it sublety. Did other collectors expend all their energy and observation on their pursued pieces with no room in their minds for anything else? Perhaps that was why their special code was so simplistic.

Maintaining that smile, I examined myself in the mirror and spoke again.

"The reds give such a vivid, lively feel to the otherwise boring landscape." I redid it. Collectors don't say things like "boring" when speaking to other collectors. "The reds give such a vivid, lively feel to the otherwise drab landscape." And I still wasn't sure if that was right.

Another picture, this of a frowning old man. It was what I would term a scowl, but others said that it was merely an effect of ancient photography requiring the sitter to remain still for quite a long time. Perhaps he was simply an unpleasant fellow to begin with, or perhaps it was his unfortunate resemblence to a granbull that caused the assumption.

"I think so-and-so's suits are quite overrated for the price." No, I had to do that again, we didn't mention price either. "So-and-so's suits are quite common," with "common" stressed to imply that it was beyond mere number, but rather something that the great unwashed would wear. Inflection was important as well, as it could change the meaning of a word through implication.

Changing back to the first image, I repeated her smile and closed my eyes, thinking of the position of every muscle in my face. I wouldn't always have a mirror close at hand, so I had to memorize these things from feel alone.

It was arduous work, trying to maintain this artificial facade. But I looked on it as an art in itself. To exaggerate myself to that degree was to be literally larger than life, and that was something that lent itself quite well to my desired path. I would be among so many pieces that were more than the sum of their parts, so I had to project myself accordingly.

Although that didn't prevent it from being irritatingly repetitive.

"The empty space summons up such a hollowness in the piece." Collectors, for whatever reason, loved to attribute deep meaning to white or black spaces, thinking them truly significant. While certainly they could draw the eye and could make a piece more aestheticly pleasing, surely sometimes they would simply be what was in front of the artist! Yet no one seemed to consider that basic possibility, no matter how drawn from life they recognized the piece to be.

As I grew, I became increasingly aware of the absurdity of life. Children encouraged to leave into the world and bond with animals, while adults created meaningless lives for themselves, devoid of any interest or colour. Both wedged themselves into their tight roles and refused to budge, as stubborn and listless as Ursarings in winter, and any outside the tiny scrap of the world left visible from their select view was something ignored.

I had been set on the path through that grey world once, not knowing anything else. My father had saved money for a trainer journey, and doubtless I would be settling into that life in some other world where I had not discovered art. And yet that discovery had been so <i>simple</i> that it was a shock as to how rare it was to live with color and spark. A brush had been drawn across my life, painting across it the finest things, while those around me remained colourblind.

And it baffled me. Nothing had stood in my way, I realised, and there had been nothing special about me. How many others would there be if they simply looked around?

But it was best this way. Shining stars and all that, as we had been told. As I had been told all that time ago.

I missed her, of course, my dear mother. But with more and more to fill my days, the grief had faded.

With some sense of irony, I had to chuckle at the next photograph being marked "sorrow". Perhaps this was what I had looked like when first brought to this place, mouth turned down and corners tight, eyes squinted and watery, brows like thin wings wavering above.

I had trouble imagining this face on anybody. It seemed distant, something almost comical, contraindicitive of the specified emotion. Asaph, perhaps. Both his parents had passed, yet I couldn't picture him grieving in any such way. Lucrezia had worn a kimono that marked her as a widow, but her jolly, boisterious presentation made it impossible to imagine her otherwise. Even having seen her wrath was still seeing her in bombast, an overwhelming wind surrounding her.

Her son either, the notorious ground trainer. Following that thought, he had lost his father, and yet his smooth and even manner remained in any image I could summon.

Someone closer; Helen perhaps. I'd witnessed her in cheer, in irritation (mostly directed towards my father), in seriousness, in wonderment, but never in sorrow, not like this. I knew she experienced it, thinking back on a story she had told of a failed attempt at breeding her Ninetales that had ended in a stillborn Vulpix of a deep yellow colour. It upset her still, though this had taken place before I was born, and she had paused to wipe away tears many times. Yet that past sadness looked nothing like this image, despite the photograph's pedigree. It had been messy, with unmentionable fluids and a sickness to her, though at the time I had simply wondered, silently of course, if a Fire Stone would have still forced evolution.

Ah yes, the sciences. My studies--my own studies, far from my classes, of course--had fallen on the display cage that had shown the Omastar to all. It was remarkable, and I wondered if there was a way to alter it to display pieces in suspension. Something magnetic could be isolated to display a work in metal while not interfering with anything around it, but that would leave any works of other matter. It was a puzzlement that perplexed me, and I wondered if I could contact the engineer.

Of course, I would have to. I couldn't figure it out on my own. Even as a collector, I was beholden to those who had trod that path before, those gatherers, those artists, those merchants, those patrons. The entire of the art world would be mine, and the thought was intoxicating. I would be an intrinsic part of the very culture of everything. Ah! but that didn't matter! To be a movable part of something eternal, to know that I possessed a collection of true immortality, and to dwell amongst it for as long as I could, those were all I cared about.

Every thought led back to that far too distant future. Time flowed far too slowly, as if testing my patience and resolve to reach that grand goal. But I didn't care. I'd reach it eventually, no matter what my present situation threw at me; no matter the monochrome of my environment, I would burst into the full spectrum!

I realised at that point that I was laughing. When that had happened I wasn't sure, but I was glad that it was a soft, gentlemanly laugh. It had been a rather funny thought, I mused, though the sentiment in it was the absolute truth.

That truth must have been why, when I saw myself in the mirror, I looked nothing akin to the pictures of mirth. Which only complicated things. I felt happy, silly even, and none of that was reflected in pictures supposing to showcase those very things.

Of course, I'd seen those features on others; those shining eyes, those broad smiles, but it was so different that had it not been entirely situational, I wouldn't have seen it at all. How odd, how strange, how confusing! But that was the way of things, wasn't it?

"Of course, it's all part of the game," I chirped merrily at the mirror. But that just made me think of when I'd played chess with Asaph. It had been so long ago, and I suddenly wanted to again. I set the mirror aside and stood, tucking the pictures under the clothes again and carefully arranging things before closing the closet door behind me and heading for the phone to ring him.

I knew from experience that the telephones in his home were fancy things, modern yet in the more ornate style of old movies. There was a certain glamour element in the mystique of old Hollywood that many collectors found themselves emulating, the idea of a subtle world of grandeur all around us if we simply knew how to seek it out. Even the everyday was glamourous when captured in that unique way, and even collectors had everyday lives. Of course, that was what I sought, to have that majesty at my fingertips at all moments. So by the time it rang, I was a bit envious already.

"Asaph's residence, may I ask who calls?" That was his butler, who only came on occasionally. It was an odd arrangement, very atypical, and led to me having no idea of the man's name.

"Yes, this is Jirarudan. May I speak with the master of the house?"

There was a shuffling of papers, and I suspected he was turning pages in a notebook. "Master Asaph is unavailable."

I thought as much. He was still refusing my calls, after the impromptu jaunt through the city. "Ah, very well. Thank you."

"However, he does have a message for you."

"Oh?" That was surprising. I didn't expect that he would want to have any sort of communication with me until later. Though in honesty, I felt he was vastly overreacting.

"Master Asaph wishes to inform you of his representation in the upcoming exhibit of collectors of the Kanto region in Fuschia City."

Ah, so that was why he had spent so much time in Mr. Higuchi's company. Such fortune being minted at that party! It was beautiful, how everything came together like that, my star shining amidst the light of his. "Thank you for informing me."

"Have you anything further?"

I had the suspicion that at an earlier, uneducated point in my life I would have simply hung up at that. "Tell him I await hearing from him. Thank you."

After ending the call, I rested the phone on my bedside table and leaned back on my bed. Such a beautiful thing it must be to lend to an exhibit! To have so many view that which you'd brought together!

But how many of them would understand it? How many would see it and move on without any impact? I frowned. That simply wouldn't do. It was a distressing thought, but I did trust his judgement. I'd have to ask him the next time we spoke.

"Master Asaph wishes to inform you--" I repeated. Something had unsettled me in that when it was said, but I wasn't sure what until I heard it in my own voice. Why, it was a benefit that I hadn't caught it at the time, else I'd have thought he was dismissing me! To do so without a word would be inexcusibly rude, after all. I was grateful that it hadn't been the case, but how strange that I would worry of it after nothing of the sort was said.

I sighed as I reached over to pull the shade closed, taking a look at the sky as I did. A storm was coming, and in those months it would bring with it some bitter cold far removed from the season. I wondered briefly what Articuno did on its rumored nearby island in that weather, where it took shelter. Though the cold was meaningless to an ice type, and nothing compared to what would come in a scant few months, the wind and rain were sure to drive at its land.

And they did me no favours either. Such weather only reminded me of my position overlooking the ocean, already no doubt heavy with thick-capped waves and grey swells. Someday I would overlook it all, the stormy grey of the world never touching me, but for the time, I burrowed under my blankets in anticipation.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
So something has gone all pear-shaped around here when it takes me this long to tick out a chapter of pure character development, right? Though it's been a heckofa year, and I'm in the process of moving as well. But this time I at least know what the *next* chapter will be about! Expect a lot more plot next time around. As for now, have Jiri and Veronica on an adventure in Seafoam!








The streets of Seafoam were briefly coated in an artificial sense of festivity, as though it were carried on the ocean breeze. Storefronts trumpeted all summer long of vacation joy--always vacation, as though life here was transient for everyone--with nothing behind the facade, then quickly shuttered close. Even the art galleries focused on the surrounding area with no care beyond that limited scope. It was a world floating in a void, but it would have to do for the time being.

It was, I confess, a pleasant view. The plains gave way to the ocean in a crash of surf and rock, the greenery of the area belying the lifelessness of the buildings. Even my walk to the town, through it took some time, was pleasant, down a gentle slope that stretched across the top of a gradually evening cliff until it became flush with the flat land of the main roads. Sometimes, if the weather was disagreeable, I took the shuttle bus that looped around the town, but on fair days I preferred the walk.

It was on one of those days, in the early autumn, that I was notified of new works at a preferred gallery, and I was heading down to see them. It was clear and dry, to say nothing of unseasonably hot, though cool compared to further inland. Small miracles, I thought as I passed a row of houses. A familiar-looking woman watched me from the window of one, the same who had told Asaph of my ill behaviour. How strange to think that such a thing had been only the previous hear! I wondered if she'd notice the change in me, or if those details had been lost to the rabble.

No matter. I had my mission and wasn't to be dissuaded. Though I waved to her just the same, turning back to the road before I could see if she returned the gesture.

The sunshine was nice, especially knowing that awaiting us were several months of cold. Though it stormed and fogged and howled, Seafoam never grew truly dark, and yet it was never the right kind of light in that span of months. I would take in what I could, so I slowed my pace as I neared an expanse of woodland and walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Psst!"

That was an odd noise, standing out from the normal noise of wind and distant cars. I stood still, ocean breeze against me, as I tried to figure out where this thing was coming from.

"Psst! Jiri!"

I turned around, but nobody was there. Clearly I was hearing things. Perhaps a dream still lingered in me, or perhaps it was just a trick of the wind.

"Jiri! Over here!"

The harsher tone was coming from the bushes at the roadside. What could a person who would hide in the shrubs possibly want with me? But I approached anyway, a caution in my step.

The greenery shook, parting slightly for the person to stick their face out. There, crouched and clad in a cap and sunglasses, was Veronica. "I was wondering if you'd even notice."

"What are you--"

"Come with me!" she blurted. "Let's go on an adventure! We're out in the wild world, so let's enjoy ourselves!"

"How strange..." I mused, realising that I said it aloud. But something in her manner that I couldn't quite put my finger on seemed quite inspiring.

She was starting to become agitated, flapping her gloved hands in a tic reminiscent of a habit I'd had in my distant youth. "Come on! How many days are so perfect for adventuring?"

I smiled, softly I hoped. "I haven't any other plans. I suppose this is as good an activity as any."

Veronica let out a high-pitched squeal that caused me to rethink my agreement, and clapped her hands before extending her arm in an offering of companionship. "Then let's go! This is going to be so fun, la la la..."

"Are you singing?"

"Sure! Care to join me?"

"No thank you. But you're welcome to continue." I took her arm then, wrapping mine around hers as though we were entering a grand ball. But that image didn't last when she began singing aimless notes again.

And yet her tunelessness didn't bother me. It was easy to tell that she was happy; I didn't need my pictures for that. And her joy was infectious, prompting me to hum along in my own tune.

"I thought you said you didn't want to sing!" she declared with a giggle.

"Well, you see, I'm not singing, I'm humming."

"You're so weird!" Another laugh, giving way to more toneless vocalising and a bit of a skip in her step, still keeping pace with me. "Now, what shall our first adventure be, hmm hmm hmm? Exploring is always good! But we have to be careful, because we're being chased!"

"Oh, are we now?"

"Yep! By brigands! They want to make us find treasure for them!"

I'd been suspicious of her idea, but her explanation seemed too fanciful to be symbolic. We were playing out a story, the parts being imaginative rather than pulled from life. "That sounds like a lark. What are they after?"

She paused to think for a moment. "They're after our gold, of course! Gold is always what brigands want."

"I suppose you have a point. How do we know them when we see them?"

"Ah...They have black uniforms! Black uniforms and newsboy hats."

I'd seen them in the past, around Lucrezia's lavish beach house on the far side of town. "Ah yes, I'm familiar with them. We must avoid the mansions if we're to remain unnoticed."

She beamed. "Wonderful! Now, they're after us so we've got to stay safe. Follow me!"

"All right." Though I shouldn't have agreed so quickly, as her immediate reaction was to dive back into the bushes.

"Now then," she mused as I ducked down to join her, "we need to stay off the main roads. They have wicked knights looking for us."

It was an ancient tale now? I decided to go along again. "Don't forget the evil queen and dark prince."

"Of course. And if they catch us, they'll toss us in the hole and leave us there!"

She was spinning quite a tale. But it was delightful fun, at least so far. "Well we certainly don't want that. We'll do our best to avoid such a fate."

Her hand on her cap, she darted out of our hiding spot. "Come on! We have to keep on the move!" The new angle, her in front of me, revealed two long ribbons off the sides of her cap, tied back around her draped hair.

"Where are we going?" I wondered.

"Well..." She was headed somewhere, even if that place was whatever happened to be right in front of her, and didn't stop her pace. "Let's stay in the forest! We'll see what we can find that way."

The forest. Such things held no interest to me. "The city is far more interesting. Can't we go there?"

"Jiiiiriiiii..." It came out higher than her normal tone, and filled with more air. "The queen's forces are filling the streets! We can't risk it!"

This tale she spun was becoming confusing and we hadn't yet begun our adventure. But I complied. "All right. Lead the way."

"Good! Now, this way!" Back into the bushes we went, and I found myself wondering why we had ever left them. She pulled me along as though she had a decided place in mind.

"This is certainly not what I had in mind for the day..." I pondered to myself.




The green of the forest bled together as we continued on our fantastic path. It was as if we had wandered into an abstract, with only the occasional stroke of a brown trunk to break the single colour. Even the wild pokémon around us darted too quickly to register.

"Oh!" Veronica exclaimed, her dedicated path coming to a halt. "A hidden castle!"

I looked ahead. Before us was an abandoned treehouse, somehow holding up through unknown years. A Pidgey nest was visible on the simple handrail along the edge, though it was impossible to tell how long it had been there. Below it on the ground was the outline of a tyre swing, covered in leaves, and above it whisped the remains of a rotten rope. The whole thing was about as far from a castle as a structure could get.

"This castle was sacked by the evil queen," she muttered, bowing her head as if she was truly mourning. "Come on! Let's look for survivors!"

"Must we...?" But again I followed, this time up the blocks hammered into the trunk. Through some miracle they held. When I reached the top, Veronica was already looking about the small space. "What are you trying to find?"

She looked back at me for a moment, and the image of my study cards flashed in my mind, a picture said to be of longing. But that didn't make sense. She was having a merry time of things, so there had to be some mistake. "We're trying to find if anyone remains! There has to be--oh!"

The source of her surprise was a young Rattata, sniffing along the boards for acorns. "Oh, that's something. Is that what you're looking for?"

She knelt down before it, hand extended. "A survivor...Oh dear, you seem to be the only one. We arrived too late! I can offer only my apologies..."

The Rattata sniffed at her glove before scurrying away, down the tree and into the bushes. "Do we follow it?" I asked despite preferring that the sky would fall around us.

"No...it's enough to know." Slowly standing, she smiled. "We should leave it be. It's got enough to deal with. But maybe we can find something of value here."

"Are we tomb robbers?"

Veronica gasped in fake shock. "Absolutely not! We've been hired to sell what remains to rebuild the castle!"

With every word, her storyline seemed to further embrace surrealism. "I...suppose this...rock is worth something. Maybe those Pidgies brought it up here."

"Jirarudan! That's not a rock!" Her sudden insistence was a bit startling. "That's a gem from the royal sceptre! We need to take it with us!"

"Well...the king must be terribly worried about it." Queens rarely wielded sceptres, so I hoped that my choice matched with her vision. "But we have our mission. Shall we go?" I couldn't take a moment more in that dingy place, and despite my compliance with her fantasy, I was near about to leave.

"All right. The evil queen won't be coming back, so this place is as safe as it can be." She pushed past me and started down the ladder. "Town will be our best bet. We'll have to see what we can get for the gem."

I wondered if she was truly going to attempt to sell a plain rock. How far was this fantasy truly going to take us? Her decision to crown Lucrezia an evil queen--I knew that

Veronica was aware of who had been my thought, who owned the beach house surrounded by black-capped guards--was quite the visual, but a strange one. What would she do if we encountered the woman? Would she blurt out accusations of warmongering? Lucrezia may already demonstrate hostility towards us, making money as we had off of her back, although Asaph had doubted that she was aware of the source of our information. When I was back on solid ground, I immediately began wandering in the direction of the city centre, and was glad that Veronica followed along.




Seafoam was quiet, the tourists from inland having discarded it in favour of a daily life. Only a few remained, blending with the locals though sheer weakness of number, and for the most part milled around quietly. Veronica and I passed onto the main road without notice, though she stopped to peer around a building. "One can never be too careful with the queen's forces about."

Lucrezia would have returned to Viridian for business, and her son as well, so the chances of us running into anyone related to Veronica's tale were slim. "Ah...the queen and prince are elsewhere this season, and their forces have accompanied them. I think the chances of encountering them are low."

She vehemently shook her head. "She has spies everywhere. We have to be careful when moving about."

How far was she going to take this? "All right. How will we know them? By the uniform?"

"They wouldn't be spies if they dressed with the queen's emblem. We won't know them until they cause trouble, and that makes the city especially dangerous. We have to move so as to not bring attention to ourselves."

I had the suspicion that it would be far more difficult than that, especially since we seemed to be the only young people about at that hour, and were dressed irregularly sophisticated compared to our peers besides. "Are you positive that's possible?"

"Just act natural...or uh, try to act like a normal person. It'll take steely determination and an iron will to succeed in this labour."

Nothing I had studied through etiquette or my photo collection had any solutions on how to react to such a thing, though I wasn't certain if the entire sentence had been directed towards me or not. "I suppose that's awfully...metallic. Let's do our best."

"That's the spirit." It didn't sound much like how an upbeat phrase like that was meant to, but there were so many variations that it was hard to keep up. "Now, the gem market should be around here someplace."

The only gemstone store was in the small shopping mall in the middle of town, and I felt uneasy. Would she truly attempt to pass this common rock off as the fairy tale she handily spun? "At least we can see some jewellery. Not that the things in this town are worthwhile, but it'll be fun."

"This isn't a mission of fun, Jiri. This is serious." She peered around another corner before darting across the street.

By the time I caught up to her, I remembered another feature of the mall, a merry-go-round. "The king's steeds are being held captive in the middle of the fortress."

She shook her head. "No, they're false. Entertainment for those under the queen's control, so they don't notice the tyranny."

That was the first time she had contradicted me since we began on this bizarre improvised quest. "Ah, bread and circuses."

The common shops were closed, their purpose of feeding commercial goods to tourists fulfilled for another year, so the majority of the mall was silent. I hadn't been there for nearly a year, and even then it had been beneath me. In my childhood I may have enjoyed such a thing, at least the merry-go-round, or perhaps the novelty hat shop, but those days seemed so foreign and fogged.

We moved past so many dingy rooms, some of them empty for seemingly years, others stocked with shirts and trinkets awaiting the return of spring. One surprisingly lively shop carried upscale surfing equipment, an activity that drew people even in the coldest parts of winter, still months away. Yet our goal waited at the end of the hallway, the very heart of the single-level building.

There was the merry-go-round, with its signature blue-flamed Rapidash standing out among those surrounding it. Some were the typical normal Rapidash and Ponyta, even a Zebstrika, and others were more novel sorts such as Seadra and an unmoving Vileplume. The benches that usually adorned these devices were fashioned as Swanna, the distant, notoriously aggressive white bird. But it wasn't my white bird, so there was no point.

Though it was a rickety machine, and clearly only casually cared for, some considered it a work of art. Perhaps it had been in its heyday, but no longer, and that was a disappointment. Typical for Seafoam, however, taking in only the sea itself.

Veronica passed everything by, heading with heavier, quicker steps to the jewellery store. The stone in her hand was covered tightly by white knuckles as she crossed the threshold. But before I could catch up, she darted back, running towards a far door. "They've gotten to us! Run!"

Oh, so that was her plan. It was a bit disappointing; my curiosity having overtaken reason. I followed along swiftly anyway, passing a few employees along the way.

From behind us, a loud whistle blew, followed in a split-second by a harsh "STOP!" and the heavy footfalls of a security guard in pursuit.

"Run, Jiri! Don't let the guard get you!" she called from in front of me.

She hadn't stolen anything, that much I knew. She was running because of her stupid game. Did she really intend to let this go so far that we'd both get in trouble? I slowed in my pace, coming to a low jog. "Veronica, come back."

But she continued, the guard at her heel.

"It's a stupid rock," I called to her as the guard reached his prey, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her against a wall.

She let out a sharp cry as she wedged her firm fist between her body and the wall. "I won't let go!"

The man sighed. "Give it back, kid. You don't want the trouble. Look, your friend is telling you to stop."

"I can't let go! I have to get this to--" Her destination was cut off by the guard pulling her forearm back to reveal the contents of her hand, barely covered by her fingers.

He sighed. "Kid...really? You bring in a rock from outside and pretend that you're stealing it? I almost called Jenny in on you. Runnin' out of the jewellery store like that..."

Veronica rubbed her newly released arm. "...come on, Jirarudan. Our mission is over."

"Lousy kids and their pranks..." I heard the guard mutter as he slunk past me to his original location, rubbing the back of his head. "Never understand kids today..."

I followed to where Veronica had wandered, just outside the door to outside. Her breath was heavy, rising and falling her chest like a rapid tide. "...can't believe it..."

"Veronica, it was foolish. Why did you keep--"

But she turned and walked away from me. As she crossed the road I could see that the rock was still held tight in her hand. I gave her a moment before I followed, my mind turning over on itself trying to figure out her actions.




She was standing at a lookout point, a picturesque fence the only barrier between her and a cliff, and rolling the rock over again in her hands. She'd speak in time enough, I figured.

The view was certainly nice, even with the looming rock targeted by so many surfers in view, and my thought process from earlier came back. Around me, the air was cool and slow, breezing in from distant lands. Who knew what secrets had been whispered into it, the thousands of people feeling the same wind at that moment? It was a lovely thought, to be such a part of the world, as if I was already amidst the finest art. The depths of the world and its treasures would be mine for the picking, and it was an honour to be so blessed. To others, the breeze simply passed them by without notice, and so went the world.

Veronica noticed, though. She raised an arm to catch the wind, the other tossing the rock almost casually into the water before firmly planting on her hat to secure it, ribbons flapping as if they were birds in low flight.

"What's it like where you come from?" It was the first thing she'd said since the dawn of our adventure that took place outside the story.

"Far too quiet. Unsettlingly so." I spoke the truth, of course. That wretched, hateful town had been boring besides.

"Sometimes the quiet is nice." Her head was lowered, and I followed her gaze.

"What do you see?"

She took a moment before looking back at me. "I guess a lot, but I'm not really looking. Just thinking. You ever just space out?"

I laughed at that, reflecting on how very much of my time was spent deep in thought. "So very much," I declared, feeling as though I was repeating myself though I knew I hadn't spoken the first aloud. "Papa's always telling me to be more social. I suppose he means to have friends over rather than to have dealings and connections at parties. I don't understand why. I'm simply doing business like he does."

"Your birthday's later this month, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'll be ten."

She sighed. "I remember when I turned ten. I wanted a pokémon so badly. Even a Magikarp would have done."

"I can't see you with one. Something as clumsy and ungainly as that wouldn't suit you."

"Then what could you see me with?"

It was something I had to think about. She was so many things at once that attempting to narrow it to a handful of species was difficult. "Ralts does suit you. Eevee, Gothita, Chikorita, Murkrow..."

"Things just beginning their journey," she whispered. "First stage, not yet evolved. I can see that." A silence fell over us until she finally stated "You'd have a Xatu. It thinks about the past and future, but not the present. You're very much like them."

I chuckled. "I'd never thought of it that way. I suppose if I had to elaborate, I would say that Ralts is a given, Eevee is complex and changing, Gothita is stylish, Chikorita is..." I paused. "...I'm not sure. It just comes to mind. Oh, and Cresselia, of course, since you want it so much."

She grinned, something I hadn't seen for a while. "And you'd have Lugia. It's awfully funny-looking, but I guess Cresselia is too."

"The heart wants what the heart wants!" Perhaps it was a bit too enthuastic on my part, because she took a step back. But then she laughed, so I continued. "We'll reach that point someday. After all, we're the shining stars."

"I guess we are. And shining stars can't be playing with rocks in the middle of town. ...I should go back home."

"Oh? I was hoping we could tour the galleries together."

She shook her head, her ribbons flowing slightly looser. "I don't feel up to it today. I'm going to go home and take a nap, then play with Ralts some."

"Do you want me to wait for the bus with you?"

"No..." Reaching into her pocket, she produced Ralts' pokéball. "If I don't see you before then, I'll see you at your birthday party, or whatever you have for it. Ta-ta!"

Before I could say anything, she and Ralts had teleported away. I knew that a creature of Ralts' limited power couldn't have gotten her far, and she was likely still in the town, but my part was at least over.

It had been a tiring day, but with the gallery ahead under the noonday sun, I supposed it was really just starting. Nothing that happened later could live up to that morning.
 

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
I haven't had all this for a long time, being nine, being in high society, being friends with thirteen-year-olds. Too long. Since time is a little strait for me, I'll read from chapter 22 where I left off, instead of rereading from the beginning, just yet. Your fic seems to have a dreamy way of staying in the present, anyway. Childhood viewed retrospectively. You take your time between updates.

Tierney brushed past me in the main hall, talking over a large cellular phone, and I was left in a sea of people to find Veronica on my own.

No welcome? I imagine these people take guests seriously, even if they're young boys and from lower families. I kind of like the idea, though, as if you've landed up at your friend's house half a block down the street.

It was reminiscent of nobility, the light blue ruffles and contours of the classical era, and it felt oddly empowering to wear it.

Do you have a good idea of your fic's pokehistory, which you probably do if you're writing a fic about art and museum keeping. Does the classical era correspond to any earth period? The ruffles and calf fit boots makes me vaguely think of the 18th century, Europe getting super refined, Casanova's court dress or something. I also imagine that would look questionable to 21 century children.

Jirarudan has some moments where his train of thought tries to sort of shake the reader off -- most of his remarks/exclamations about his own feelings come unexpectedly, partly like non sequiturs. The mechanism dips into silence for a few intervening steps before resurfacing with the thought it just came up with. It's far from being completely unheard of, I think I associate it with the thinking of a young boy; still I wonder if he's not a little... fascinated with the way his own mind turns, eager to draw poetic, interior-life-like conclusions about himself:

But the moment was over at the sight of Veronica in the spotlight. How did that take me out of it?

I thought back to the Madame Remi painting in his home, and how we had approached our interpretations of it. Such a novel approach to things, I mused.

Jirarudan would never have thought of taking a bus to Viridian on his own, that's for sure. He would have had the trip planned out and hotel bookings in advance. Veronica I'm sure has a hatred for the sickly-sweet life she's been brought up in, all the appearances and empty pleasures. Well, perhaps she doesn't mind all the pleasures.

"Yeah, that happens. Jiri..." Her tone changed, became softer, and her gaze wandered to the ground. "...I'm glad you're here with me. I hate being alone."

But both of them also shy away from too much company, 'fake' friendships... They are so goddamned tight.

"I tend to think that you're reigning yourself in,

It's 'reining'. You are pulling the (metaphorical) reins on yourself.

It had come on suddenly, exhasperatingly, and we willingly gave ourselves to the emotion.

Also I'm sure there's no 'h' in dictionary 'exasperate', and I don't think I've seen that variant spelling anywhere.

You're doing it again," she chided me. "I'm guessing you had some thought that led up to that, but it didn't make any sense coming off of what I said.

Veronica sees it too!

That would be interesting, I mused, to be the art itself and be admired by all who beheld me.

Second time in a day he's thought that. I'm trying to detect anything in him now that, once he grows up, will eventually become the celebrated Obsession. I don't think he has any overbearing fixation on anything inanimate right now. He doesn't value human things, friends' company, individual pokemon, bonds of affection, so his interests are naturally on inanimate things: material possessions, ways of being happy; the nice afternoon spent with Veronica, not Veronica herself. But that's not a fixation. I have fixations on poems or abstract concepts, where I care about nothing else, only the cold fleshless thing itself. His real desire is just happiness. He always places the things he desires -- Lugia, high society, the airship -- as part of the wider sweep of his fantasies, as accessories to that better world, in which he'll have everything he's wanting right now. Which is probably how we all saw the world when we were that young. I guess possibly Obsession is what you get when these better worlds shrivel up and eventually get put in the corner.

His snob theory of art -- things become worthless when they are vulgar, part of a crowd -- and Jiri and Veronica's feeling that they are above the common mark. Is there some association between them and works of art, or is it simply that they value things (art, people) by placing them in high class situations. Or both.

I realised, as time went by, that my perception of my surroundings changed with experience.

And now a year passes (IRL).

I was meant to be a collector, and the thought was quite divine. Divine, of course, in the most literal sense. Such objects filled me with a fervor, knowing that I held around me something so immortal, so far beyond the everyday sphere.

I take back that he's only interested in happiness and nothing else, that's silly, nobody does just, happiness in the abstract. Of course he genuinely has art in his life. But I still think there's a difference between fantasies of real life and those of art. Art takes an exertion of the imagination. It's kind of selfless, in that you're creating another's fantasy, or exercising some 'ideal' of beauty. Being artificial, it doesn't come spontaneously. That's not the same as wanting one beautiful airborne night just for yourself.

I like how the style has changed. The clarity of physical circumstances hasn't suffered because it's still you writing the prose, but now Jirarudan has receded from actual humanity, is more baroque with his sentences, harder to follow, more obscure and esoteric with his sentiments. His head is full of artificial pageantry. What does Veronica think of him.

This chapter is so horrible. Jirarudan has surrounded himself with ghosts of human behaviour and he's trying to train himself with them. He has no more clue than he did the last chapter, but now what he had is swamped with pleasantries and stale 'taste'. I know he obviously hasn't lost his mind, his thoughts are as cutting as before, somewhat more so, but there's something so disturbing about the vapidity of the prose... His first person in the previous chapters knew how to talk about life, and this one is overriden with the language of his small-talk training.

And yet that discovery had been so <i>simple</i> that it was a shock as to how rare it was to live with color and spark.

HTML italics. Wasn't there a move towards <strong> and <em> tags at some point? Who would ever take that much time?

I had trouble imagining this face on anybody. It seemed distant, something almost comical, contraindicitive of the specified emotion.

Well, yeah. Sometimes I think conversational expressions are as exaggerated as any comic face.

It had been messy, with unmentionable fluids and a sickness to her, though at the time I had simply wondered, silently of course, if a Fire Stone would have still forced evolution.

Holy ****, Jirarudan! Also, that it's something he thought at that time, not as a symptom of his condition now. That's very right, and keeps this moment from getting heavy-handed.

I thought as much. He was still refusing my calls, after the impromptu jaunt through the city. "Ah, very well. Thank you."

The time interval between this chapter and the next? Asaph hasn't been talking to him since then, and I don't see why he would permanently dismiss Jirarudan on the grounds of such an indiscipline. He is nine years old. A thirteen-year-old got him into the trip; you'd more or less expect him to be her responsibility. ...I don't completely remember their relationship.

So something has gone all pear-shaped around here when it takes me this long to tick out a chapter of pure character development, right?

...Another year passed!

The streets of Seafoam were briefly coated in an artificial sense of festivity, as though it were carried on the ocean breeze. Storefronts trumpeted all summer long of vacation joy--always vacation, as though life here was transient for everyone--with nothing behind the facade, then quickly shuttered close.

The tense inconsistency here I have to point out. 'As though it were' on its own is fine, because 'were' is a respectable tense for hypothetical situations -- "if it were carried on the ocean wind, it would not stay". 'As though life here was' is also fine because 'was' is also an accepted tense for hypothetical situations. But to use both in the same paragraph -- that's inconsistent.

A familiar-looking woman watched me from the window of one, the same who had told Asaph of my ill behaviour. How strange to think that such a thing had been only the previous hear!

Wait what where? When?

This one really seems completely like a dream, Veronica literally appears out of nowhere and whisks Jirarudan away, she's not talking normal, they are playing confusing fantasy games... something the dreaming mind conjures up out of the materials it's got to work with. ...You're doing a prompt. Probably not.

She looked back at me for a moment, and the image of my study cards flashed in my mind, a picture said to be of longing. But that didn't make sense. She was having a merry time of things, so there had to be some mistake. "We're trying to find if anyone remains! There has to be--oh!"

Oh, it's character development. Starting to make sense.

An adventure in Seafoam. Possibly the second-last chapter threw me for a loop, because this seems kind of part of the character-continuity of 23, 22, etc, while chapter 24 is him alone and it sort of enters a creepy world of its own. Jirarudan has schizo elements. This one is really nice. I can feel sad for these cute Jiri-Veronica moments, considering they must be getting all too scarce in the coming chapters. I also like that you don't explain everything, about HOW everyone is feeling and WHY they're feeling and WHAT DOES IT MEAN, which has to be relinquished anyway, from a POV of Jirarudan growing up.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
The woman he mentions is from the chapter that's post #105 in this thread.

It's funny. The chapter you describe as "horrible" for his regression is more of a character moment, or that's how I meant it. In the film, he demonstrates some traits that may indicate autism (though it's of course impossible to know for sure since he literally *can't* meet all the diagnostic criteria just based on how little he's shown), and part of autism is difficulty in recognizing facial expression. He's training himself to do so, and to be sociable by rote (another difficulty). Of course, for him it ends up being far shallower in practice, which of course leads to further viewing others as not having the necessary depth to appreciate these treasures...so basically doing these things by rote is just going to continue his problems but hey.

As far as the classical eras and everything, XY really threw a wrench in that design considering that it places three THOUSAND years ago what to us is three HUNDRED years ago (and yet the date of the moon landing is unchanged, making it MORE confusing). But as for his outfit, I'm actually describing a famous painting. Can you think of which one? (and heh, for bonus points, guess what Veronica is wearing. Hint--it's a LOT more recent, from a tv show)

His ultimate obsession...I'm not sure if it really *is* Lugia, or even anything specific. Though he certainly comes to value Lugia above almost (ALMOST) everything else...

And heh, thanks for the spelling input. It's funny though, I do put everything through spell checkers before I post them. I guess in my "no that isn't misspelled that's the name of a Pokémon" skipping, some things squeeze through.
 

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
Oh god, did I just describe autistic people as 'horrible'.

That said, autism can be horrible, and progressing through life undiagnosed and untreated can certainly be horrible.

Let me look at your Conquest Problem thread. ...1700's France is 3000 years ago. Got damn. I feel like the only explanation that'll fit the different canons' random caprices is that, pokemon is so far ahead of our world's timeline and it has gone through so many stages of history, that the stages have actually repeated multiple times, and everybody's gained crazy technologies and lost them and regained them, and Casanova has existed not only 300 but 3000 and 30000 years ago. As to which painting: I'm definitely not widely versed in classical art, even all the famous ones, and, Windsor is clearly not a real painter (I definitely didn't have to Google that to find out), so I'm gonna try Veronica's outfit. (Not, try on, as it would not fit me.) Nope, no idea. I suck.

I guess one doesn't have to have an obsession for one single thing, to be an obsessive type -- someone who fixates on a definite vocation and is always overly focussed on just the objects of that vocation. Lugia certainly becomes the thing he follows to the point of ruining himself/the world.
 
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Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
Ah no, that's fine! It can be a pain to work with, and even as an adult he seems to neither know nor care how he comes off to others (though he's also a bit of a sarcastic ******* in canon as well). But since socialization and presentation are key parts of his work, he'll have to learn how to navigate those situations somehow, and going through empty phrases in the way someone would study lines from a play can help him link things together.

His fancy outfit is quite well-known as being the "blue" part of The Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough. Veronica's fringe dress and big hat has a far different inspiration--Mimi from the first season of Digimon. I sort of went all over with that.

That part was set up in part with my friend Abby, a previous poster in this thread. Though we seem to have lost contact, so I hope she comes to look at the thread at some point!

Lugia is definitely a severe obsession. Even with saying that legendaries have always been his passion, Jirarudan seems to have never pursued one before. The ship is set up for these specific captures, with the capture rings seemingly calibrated for *something* specific with the four birds. And even with his viewing the other three as secondary, perhaps something to trade away or sell, a previous pursuit would likely have left him with *something*, because the man doesn't give up until he's *forced* to. Lugia is special to him, above even other legendaries. Is there anything else above it, in canon? Ultimately, his Mew card, but even that seems to be based in something other than his obsession.

I can imagine him trying to find the mural depicted on the card, tracking it to a group of scientists, only to find it was assumed destroyed! That must be frustrating as well, a dead end.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
(well...it's not the LONGEST gap between chapters. And despite my earlier apprehension, it's also not the longest chapter. But it felt like it! This one took so much research to write, and half the questions I had I couldn't find answers for! But I hope you enjoy some of the regions I mention in here. I also worked some friends of mine into it~ Enjoy chapter 26!)




Autumn had settled in, draping the coast in a veil of fog and chill. The sea below churned in grey fury, making the view from my window an experiment in monochrome. Though my adventure with Veronica had been only at the start of the month, the cold, threatened for some time, had settled in quickly, changing my environment rapidly.

With the time of year came my birthday, something I had attempted to avoid discussing with anybody. Though the year before I'd given my age as advanced by one before the date arrived, this year I understood the importance of youth, of preserving it while I could.

Yet ten was a milestone. This age was what flooded the streets and forests and plains with those starry-eyed children intent on entering the Pokémon League, perhaps to become the Champion, that grandest of all trainers of the land.

As I've spoken of before, the draw of such things had always escaped me.

Perhaps if I'd not met Asaph I'd have been preparing for such a journey anyway, regardless of my disinterest. I wondered what starter I'd have had. Veronica had compared me to a Natu, seeing the past and future with no mind for the present, but that species was rare to begin a journey with, especially outside the Johto region. Likely I'd be saddled with one of the trio more typical for Kanto, and simply have fallen in line like the others. I wondered how long it would have taken me to have abandoned the quest, as I knew that would be the inevitable outcome.

I had just completed an essay on some forgettable subject when a knock came on my door--a patter tapping out some silly tune, indicating that it was my father. "Knock knock," he chimed as if I wouldn't have heard the physical result.

"Come in."

He left the door open a wedge and unfolded a paper in his hand. He'd asked me for a birthday wish list, and I'd hesitated on it, not knowing if doing so was mannered or not, but finally I'd relented, jotting down a few choice items. "I wanted to ask you some things about this list. Your birthday's tomorrow, of course, and I can't find some of these."

That was strange. "They're relatively commonplace. You ought to, even here."

"Well...it's more that I don't know what they are. Like this one; I've got no clue what a...'chatelaine' is." He stumbled over the word as though it was difficult.

"It's a pocket chain." He'd recently spent a day enthusing over the purchase of an electronic encyclopaedia, yet apparently couldn't be bothered to use it himself.

"Oh, so you want a pocket watch? That's a funny choice for a kid your age."

I bristled at the reference to age. At ten, I was nearly an adult. Even aside from training or going on an aimless journey, there were a host of liberties opening to me and he still treated me though I were small. "A watch is something one may hang on a chatelaine. I wouldn't be adverse to receiving one. Of course, it would be impolite" I stressed the word "to turn down a gift, though gifts must" another stress "be given with thought and consideration."

"Oh." The flatness of his tone left little from which to derive meaning.

"Well, I guess that makes sense. Now, I don't know who some of these people are that you mention. Designers, I guess, right?"

I hadn't asked for any art, since it would raise too many questions, but history had shown that he preferred to give clothing. I could at least guide him to the proper choices. "More or less, though some are shops. You'll be able to find them in Viridian."

He chuckled. "You have a lot more elaborate tastes than I did."

"I question your use of the past tense." Asaph would likely snap at me for such a comment, but the irritation in it would go over my father's head.

Again he laughed, of course. "I guess you're right! Wow, you're getting quite a sense of humor too. When I'd visit when you were little, you'd never laugh at anything."

That wasn't true. He just never heard me. "You were hardly there."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry about that..." He tsked under his breath as he rubbed the back of his head. "Just didn't have a lot of time. I wish you could have come out here though, too...Gloria loved the ocean..."

"...I have to send this in," I muttered as I turned back to my work.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...she would have been so proud of you."

There was a pause before he moved, and another before he finally left. Rather than do what I had said, I instead drew out the chain from my shirt and held mother's ring in my hands. That's when I made a wonderful discovery.




The following morning, I left early, before the dawn, and headed townward. My usual routine of wandering the galleries played out nicely, and one of the owners wished me a fine birthday. I walked along the promenade, listening to the ocean trying to rise up and touch the Wingulls that cawed above it, teasing the waves into going ever higher. Even from the cafe where I dined, though it was around the corner from the view, still carried the sounds of the playful birds.

The small bookshop across from the shopping mall had gotten in a new art book, so I treated myself, petting the shopkeeper's Meowth that lazed across the counter as I paid. It pushed into my hand, enjoying the feel of my new adornment. Though I'd been by myself all day, I felt as though I was in the finest of company.

When I returned to the cliffside, nightfall was already touching at the corners of the sky. It wasn't especially late, but the year showing its age. I hoped to slip in quietly and head to my room, but my father was waiting in the living room, on the couch that faced away and sitting so he faced me.

"Jiri, I'm glad you're here! I expected you'd get back around this time. Go get dressed up; we're going out to dinner."

I froze. Anything my father picked would be some horrid place, a gaudy tourist trap with pseudo-food designed to appeal to base instinct for overly filling meals.

"Come on, we're going to Viridian City so we have to drive there."

That was a bit better, though I still didn't trust him. Viridian was vast and held everything from high culture to the lowest. "What are we doing?"

He stood, and I could see that he still wore the suit he did business in. "I just said, we're going out to dinner."

"Specifically, Corbin," Helen said from the kitchen. I could hear her fussing with something in a cup, likely tea. "Tell him specifically where we're going."

"Oh yeah." It was as though it had never occurred to him to answer what I'd asked. "It's a place called Fengsugou. Heard of it? It's supposed to be pretty nice."

I hadn't, and mused over his settling for 'pretty nice' for what he insisted was a major milestone. "Mm. I suppose it's better than nothing."

"Hahaha! You're getting a nice sense of humour. I'm glad; you always seemed like nothing made you smile."

Had I been making a joke? I went over my words to think of what he could be talking about and came up with nothing. Without a further word, I started up the stairs, but he stopped me.

"Jiri...? What's that on your hand?"

I glanced down. "Oh, this morning I tried it on and it fit my hand."

He smiled, but his eyes were slightly furrowed. "My god. I never thought I'd see you wear Gloria's ring. It looks so good on you. Heh...she always wore that. It meant so much to her. And I'm really glad you like it."

He knew I had it, and I'd wore it on a chain. What was the difference? It did make me feel more mature, that it fit, but those things shouldn't matter to him.

My silence must have gone unnoticed, because he continued. "You wouldn't let that thing out of your grip, remember? I had to come in when you were asleep and put it on the table so you wouldn't lose it. You know, sometimes, I wonder how--" and suddenly he fell silent. When I looked back up at him, Helen had taken his arm and was whispering lowly in his ear.

But at least it gave me the respite necessary to take my leave.




"You look really nice, Jirarudan," Helen said as we exited onto the mainland from the short bridge out of town. She and I inhabited the back seat of the smaller car--there was simply no way that I would be seen in the truck. "How are you doing today?"

I'd been staring out the window at the dim stars, tracking our movements by the distant lights. "Mm? I'm all right. It's really like any other day, though I did pamper myself earlier."

"What did you do? I saw you got a new book. What's it about?"

I faced her briefly to answer, intending to turn back quickly. "It's a history of Lorrainian art in the Kalos region."

"Oh yeah?" She smiled. "Kalosian art is really pretty."

"Lorrainian art is often overlooked. It's similar but not as gaudy, and Kalosian masters were often inspired by the more realistic traits."

"Does it have pictures? I'd like to see what you mean."

She was taking interest in my passion for art. I could indulge her, but I couldn't risk her finding out my secret. "Maybe sometime, when I'm done."

"By the way," she continued as she leaned back, "congratulations on your grades. How do you do it? You never seem to study and you're getting way higher grades than me or your father did at that age."

I did study, and far too much. But it was only natural that she assume as she did, as I kept to myself regardless of the circumstance. "I don't see how you could figure that."

"I guess. I mean, we never see you. You could be doing anything up there. I tell your father you're probably writing the great Kantan novel. You know, you're one smart cookie. You're gonna do great things someday."

"It's not like I'm a prodigy or anything." This line of discussion was making me uncomfortable."

Either she didn't notice or she didn't care, because she laughed. "Haha, well, you'll find something."

I was ten. Though I had looked forward to the number, I was far behind so many. Madame Remi had her first gallery showing at ten, and was noted at the time to have bemoaned her lost youth. Stafford, Rhi, even the more recent Alkire, all had their hold in the art world long before my age. It was disheartening sometimes to wander through a museum full of those bright youths, but I had my own and I would do what I would with it. "...I'd rather not talk about it."

She paused, silent for a while before squeezing my hand. "What made you decide to put that ring on?"

I answered as I wiggled my hand from her grasp. "I try it on every so often to see if it fits. Today it did."

"Oh. That's nice. I never met Gloria, but I think she'd be really proud of you. She seemed like a great person."

I think that was the first time I'd ever heard Helen talk about my mother, and it didn't seem right. She was so close with my father that I would hope the subject would come up more often. As Helen said, she'd never met her, but my father had no excuse.

"Are you excited to be ten?" I'd said nothing in between and her conversation continued unabated.

"I suppose. I'm glad to have my youth."

From the front, my father laughed, a sharp, noiseful sound. "Corbin!" Helen snapped, tapping the back of his headrest. "Ah, sorry about that. He just thought you sounded a lot older there."

"Helen, come on, it was funny. A little kid saying that he's glad to have his youth?"

The car suddenly seemed so much smaller than ever before, and I wanted out but we were in motion. Had we been stopped or going slower than we were, I would have darted away in an instant, I know that much for certain. I could feel my face arrange itself in what the photographs depicted as an overwhelmed expression, and it was a small victory that it was at least what I was feeling.

"Corbin, apologize."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. It was just that it sounded like something an old man would say."

"Corbin!"

"I'm sorry!" He glanced at me through the rearview. "Jiri, it's just you don't sound like kids your age. It's not a bad thing, not at all. You sound really smart, like Helen said, way more than either of us."

I didn't feel smart. A smart person would have better company.

Helen sighed, almost identical in length and capacity as my father's previous sigh. "There's a lot he doesn't understand. In meetings he keeps those things under his hat until later when it's just us, but sometimes I swear..." Another sigh. "He's proud of you."

"I am! And don't ever doubt that! You're a very special boy and I'm proud to have you as a son." His driving was wavering a little, but it was still within acceptable parameters. "I want you to know that your father loves you."

Frankly I didn't care. I know he said it honestly, but his understanding of such things was limited. "Mm. Thank you."

"Jiri, what do you say?" This was Helen, prodding me in the arm.

It took me a moment to comprehend what she meant. "...loveyoutoo."

He laughed again. "That's the spirit!"

Under that starry sky, I wished I could be anywhere else.





Our arrival at Fengsugou was mundane. It had begun to rain, so my father went to park elsewhere while Helen and I ducked inside. I recall that her umbrella was impractically small, so we were both grateful that we'd only had to cross a small space to the door. "Any further and I'd have to restyle my hair," I remarked, and she giggled slightly.

"Isn't that my line? Your hair looks fine."

Hers was worn down, something I never saw. At the factory, it was a matter of safety to make hair as short as possible, so it was usually up with pins. Even so, it still only went to the lobes of her ears, slightly shorter on one side, creating the image of a modern flapper sans headdress. "Yours too. Though it could use a little something."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I think...a flapper headband. Or a cloche."

"Oh yeah?" I wasn't sure if she had already forgotten that she'd just said that. "I'll have to look into those."

She was humouring me, which was disappointing. She didn't know what those things were, so why would she act otherwise? I'd have told her if she had asked, and I almost did anyway.

From where I stood, I could see a glimpse of the interior. It was down a curved stairway, but with a limited view I could make out the host station nestled in the space, backed by a large aquarium against the stair wall, in which a few domestic-sized Goldeen and Seaking swam about lazily. The decor indicated that it was a specifically Hengduanian restaurant, and I was a bit disappointed in myself that, though I could identify the architecture, I knew nothing of the cuisine.

Helen took a deep breath. "Mm, smells good, doesn't it? It's been a while. I'm in the mood for something spicy. If it's ok with you, anyway. It's banquet style so everyone has a bit of everything."

That was interesting. I dreamed of attending imperial and royal events, and banquet style was often found in those, especially in the east. Perhaps this could be practice for the future.

The door opened but I didn't pay much attention. It would be my father, I assumed, and he wasn't worth much notice, especially during my fancy.

"Jirarudan."

That wasn't the voice I was expecting. I turned. "Asaph?"

He smiled, eyes and mouth crinkling at the sides, and chuckled. "I wasn't about to miss your birthday."

"I didn't know you'd be coming." I remember thinking that my voice was duller than it should have been.

"Your father didn't tell you?" He glanced at Helen, who shrugged.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she muttered. "He can be a real scatterbrain sometimes."

Asaph laughed. "Not like Jirarudan. He's perhaps the sharpest person I've ever met."

I was? I suppose he would think so, not having seen the study of expressions and tones that I devoted hours, days to. Without that information, he would think it came naturally.

"That's great to hear." Helen craned her head to peek out the paned window. "Since he does remote school, we don't get a lot of feedback about him. I mean, it's obvious that he's smart, but other than that, you know?"

He nodded, just as the door opened again. "Ah, Corbin. We were just singing the praises of your son."

My father reached a hand to my hair, no doubt to tousle it in that clichéd manner, and I ducked away. Not only did I disapprove of the action in general, I had my hair styled just so. He was being highly disrespectful, and it belied his praise. "He's a very special boy. We were talking about that in the car."

It was hideously dull to hear that man talk. "Pardon. I'll go check the table," I told Helen and excused myself down the stairs. It was rude to depart without the acknowledgement of the other two, and I suspected that Asaph would speak to me about it later, but it was necessary.

It was a regret that I couldn't properly appreciate my surroundings at that point. The staircase brought to mind the elegant entrances that royalty would make, and the faint splashing and vocalisations of the aquarium fish could substitute for applause. Yet, coming off of those horribly shallow remarks--what did "special" even mean?--they felt as though they were mocking me.

Fortunately, such pessimism was short-lived, and the decor caught up with me. Though Hengduan was a very modern region, embracing radical new designs in its architecture, the restaurant was in a far more classical style. It was symmetrical, with even the chairs surrounding the tables all pointing the same directions on either side of the room. Deep red dominated the scene, highlit in gold and surrounding a small mock sky well, an inlaid light substituting for the sun and interior plants instead of the usual sumptuous garden. The effect, while not true to form, was a reasonable substitute. The walls were decorated simply, with traditional fans and inconspicuous lanterns, to an understated effect.

Overall, it was magnificent, and I briefly forgot my discomfort.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" A hostess was at my side, looking almost amused. I assumed it was for my age.

"Yes, I would like to know if the table for Jirarudan is ready for seating."

She pursed her lips. "I don't think we have any tables under that name."

My stomach fell. Could he have forgotten to make a reservation? I wouldn't put it past him. We could obtain a table as walk-ins, but it was the principle of the thing.

And then my father came down the stairs. "Ah, I think the table's under the name Corbin?" It was enunciated as a question, and a strange one at that. Why would he put it under his own name when it was my birthday?

"Table for four? Right this way."

He HAD reserved in his name. Had he no social decorum at all? I was aghast. It was my day, not his, and yet he had shifted the focus.

Asaph and Helen trailed down the stairs, and we were led to a round table next to the garden area. To continue the symmetry, we sat in a x pattern, complimenting our surroundings.

"How about this, huh?" my father asked, and I was dimly aware that it was directed at me. "Turning ten, having a big fancy dinner...I tell ya, it seems like just yesterday that you were this little baby."

Helen was smiling. "Corbin, honey, I think Jiri may be a bit overwhelmed."

I wasn't, though his presence was quickly changing that. I was simply enamored with my surroundings. Perhaps someday I would dine with royalty in settings near to this. No, I rethought, I most certainly would.

Asaph placed his napkin on his lap and looked at me to do the same. In the rush, I'd forgotten, and wondered if my distraction made it excusable. "Jirarudan is an excellent student," he stated, as though clearing the fog. "As I was saying, he absorbs information incredibly. I've never met anyone who seeks out knowledge as much as he does."

"Hey! Good job!" The plainness of my father's words stood out starkly against our surroundings. "Yeah, he's always got a book in his hand or something. And he's really into international stuff. That's why I thought he'd like this place. He cuts out pictures and stuff of different locations and paintings and puts them on his wall."

My stomach tightened, Asaph's prior warning coming to the front of my head he wouldn't understand this is our secret...

But Asaph just smiled in a small way. "Seeing the world without leaving home. It really is magnificent, to have that sort of mind."

It wasn't just that. It was my escape from the dullness of Seafoam, my injection of colour into it. I felt rather wobbly to think of it, and wanted to hide under the table. Just a few years ago, I would have.Thinking of that, however, of how far I'd truly come in such a short time, straightened my back and focused my mind. "Seeing the world," I echoed. "Someday I will; I know I will."

It had been a comment to myself, so I was a bit surprised by Helen's words. "What do you want to see?"

I paused. It couldn't tip my hand. "Well...I'd love to see Hengduan. It's supposed to be beautiful. And Kalos, of course..."

"Aah, the Parfum Palace," Helen sighed, in a tone I'd learned was called wistful. "I used to read all about it. Maybe we can go there together."

There was a lot more to Kalos than one building, though I wanted to see the magnificent castle as well. "Maybe," I humored her, thinking of our conversation earlier.

"I took a vacation in Hoenn once," my father said, as though the conversation concerned him. "Really hot there, but the beaches are incredible. And you gotta take a trip on a yacht. It's amazing."

"I'm sure it is," Asaph chuckled. We'd gone to the Lilycove museum together, the distance taking us only a weekend. It was another of our secrets. "I tend to vary between being a rambling man and a homebody. I suppose that's why I ordered such a ship from you, Corbin."

"Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear it."

Before we could delve further into the subject, a server placed two small trays of sliced fruits and candied nuts on either side the lazy susan, and another set cups of jasmine tea before us. All were things I'd had before, but here amidst the finery, they seemed a world apart.

Though my mind had wandered, thinking on the great museums of the world, I quickly snapped to attention at the scent of the tea. It was as if a bouquet had been set before me, inviting me to drink the entirety of its being, and I took a sip, remembering halfway to draw in air around it.

Though it was hot, it was far from the scalding messes found in that cliffside house, and I was able to enjoy it without burning my tongue.

It was at that time that I realised that I knew very little of Hengduanian customs. Was I to drink before the servers were finished? Was I to say something beforehand, a prayer or an address? I dropped my hands to my lap, fidgeting with my ring again.

But Asaph had said nothing to correct me. Perhaps I was doing everything right. Yes, I had to be. Though I continued turning the ring around my finger for a moment longer.

"I think we should toast the birthday boy." It came not from my father, as I would have predicted, but from Helen. She held her cup up at about face height, looking every bit my previous image of her as a flapper toasting a wild life.

Everyone followed suit, and in the moment before I did I marveled at the differing images the other two presented in their action. My father was a mid-century Shikaakwa piece, the working man raising a glass in an unfamiliar environment, while Asaph was a courted gentleman in a Brittanian intimate, gilded scene. I hoped to present a distinguished figure myself, though my thoughts were of my surroundings and I knew I couldn't possibly fit the model of Hengduan style.

"To Jirarudan--may your days be short and your years be long!" It was a toast meant to invoke the idea of a leisurely life, but it had always confused me. I had protested it in the past but for the time I pushed that aside.

"To Jirarudan!" We all brought our cups forward in imitation of the ceremonial clinking of glasses, and drank at the same time. It was a strange feeling, that shared action.

We began on the food before us, the candied nuts being my favourite. Similar confections were sold in Seafoam, but their quality was far below, made for the masses. These were light, with the slight glaze neither overtaking the core nor being dominated by it.

The normalcy of the fruits was odd. Though they were clearly simple supermarket offerings, their presentation changed their taste. I laughed to myself, something that struck my father's attention, as I mused over my own simple beginnings. It was nothing, I told him.





The opening course, and then the appetizers, were without incident, and soon a bowl wafting lightly-scented steam was placed on the round in the middle of the table, and then another, and another. The dishes were larger than the cuisine's standard, indicating a meal of fewer courses than the class would normally hold. I felt as though I was a guest of a monarch, the finery of the region around me.

"Oh wow..." my father gasped. "Hey, this is neat, don't you think?"

I pretended not to notice that he was probably directing it at me, and hoped Asaph wouldn't think it rude. We hadn't covered these sorts of situations in our lessons, of what to do when addressed by someone utterly ignorant of social mores or manners.

Glancing across the table and him and Helen, I saw that they both nodded to the servers, so I did the same. They nodded back, and I felt somehow accomplished.

I admit that I didn't know most of the dishes, but the enticing smell was wild, appealing to some newly uncovered part of my mind. There was a distinct spice to most of them, though I remembered that banquet dishes were milder than those of the everyday. How funny, to think that milder was special!

"Jirarudan." It was Asaph. "If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?"

I hadn't expected to be put on the spot like that. Knowing our arrangement and our secrets, there were many things I couldn't say. It was a test, but I wasn't certain how to pass it. Likely to name something without those hidden elements. "Well..." I pondered, twisting the ring around my finger again. I thought of the freedom I had with him, and how we could go anywhere in his ship, one that was steady enough to display priceless works in security, and the answer became clear. "I would like an airship."

It made perfect sense, and I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

My father sat back, grinning. "Well! I had no idea!" Was that sarcasm or did he genuinely not know? I hadn't known, but people seemed to be able to guess qualities of others. I would have to speak to Asaph about it.

"Ooh, what kind?" Helen asked, leaning forward with her head on her hand. Her elbow was on the table but I said nothing.

I was a bit dizzy. "Oh...who knows? It's a flight of fancy. I'm not certain." Though, in that moment, I was. The elegance of Asaph's ship had always captivated me, and for a moment I felt as I did when I was soaring over the land and sea.

"He looks so happy," I heard her whisper to someone, perhaps even herself, but it was faint. I'd closed my eyes to focus on my dream, images of the surface below as clear as life.





The rest of the meal proceeded without incident, aside from the continued magnificence of the food. Although by now I would simply repeat myself to describe them all!

Hengduan banquets had no sweet dessert, and I was grateful that it would prevent the classless cake that my father had presented me with the year before. Though we capped the meal with a sweet, it was in the form of a milky, tea-like drink that tasted of almonds.

"So," my father pronounced, "if you'd like, we can do presents now."

That was something else I wasn't sure of, if presents should be given in public. It seemed horribly rude, but again, Asaph nodded me on. "All right," I muttered, looking around as I did just in case.

Helen smiled, which I caught only briefly. "I'll start." She retrieved her purse from under her chair, drawing something out from it and handing it to me. Again I looked at Asaph and again he nodded for me to proceed, so I did, drawing my finger under the tape holding the wrapping paper closed so as not to rip anything.

Within was the image of a distant castle, the famous Neuswaronessstein, dream of a mad king. I'd dreamt of it once, a few months before, and the idea of an unfinished palace, lost without its dreamer, was incredibly tragic and appealing. Turning the book over to the front cover revealed that it was on palaces around the world.

"I hope you like it," she grinned. "You seem to love all those faraway things. I saw this and it just fit."

Though her words were off in the distance as I stared at the back cover again, finally setting it down when I realised that we were to continue.

Asaph had prepared a fancier gift, a small hinged fabric box with the name of a jeweler in town in small foreign letters across the top. "I've looked forward to this. It took a considerable effort to keep it a secret."

Carefully I tilted open the lid, the contents shining in the dim overhead light before I could see it entirely. I could hear Helen oohing in anticipation as I drew it back, revealing a gold brooch with a highly stylized hiragana "Ji" engraved lightly into it. When I drew it out of the box, I could hear my father laugh sharply, causing me to nearly drop it. "Fancy! That'll be something you keep your whole life."

"Ji", I said to myself, running my fingers over the engraved surface. It was ever so slightly coarser than the polished area around it, and it was an interesting sensation. "Ji..."

Asaph chuckled. "I'm glad you see that. I worried it may have been too calligraphic to discern properly."

I recall being entranced by it, still feeling that emery-like area and repeating "Ji" as though it was a holy mantra. Even then I didn't understand why.

"Jiri, can you show us?" I'm not sure who said it, but it broke me out of the trance. I tilted the box to show it to them and the two gasped simultaneously.

"Asaph..." My father dropped his voice and I believe he thought that I couldn't hear him. "Are you sure? That looks really expensive."

Asaph waved his hand ever so slightly. "Don't think of it." It was slightly softer, but it was still very audible.

I put the cover back over the brooch, brushing the surface again as I did, and took another sip of the almond tea.

"Oh, that's right!" my father exclaimed, though I knew that it was an artificial energy. "My present!" He extended the second word in the manner of a teen idol, and Helen lightly slapped his shoulder I assume for it. Grinning, he presented me with a red envelope, the telltale sign of a gift of money.

Again I felt uncomfortable, and again I looked around to see who was watching, but I opened it anyway. It was a novel sort, the kind held closed with a wind of string, and I peeked inside without withdrawing the funds. It wasn't money itself, but a bank note made out for an embarrassingly high sum.

I felt a bit woozy, although the money was minor compared to what I had already made. It felt as though he was attempting to buy my happiness, and it bothered me to no end. "I'm not certain I can accept this," I told him.

"Oh come on, it's a drop in the bucket compared to what Asaph must have gotten that pin for." I followed his eyeline to the box that held it.

Asaph turned towards me, reaching his hand to mine. "No matter what it is, it's fine. Accept it graciously."

I lowered my head. "Very well. Thank you, father." Although it did nothing to sway my opinion, I could set it aside.

"Father now, huh? Heh, you're making me feel old. So, you can do whatever you want with that, of course. You've been so responsible with what I gave you before, buying your own clothes and books and all that." He shook his head. "I couldn't handle all that when I was your age. I don't know how you do it."

Though I was a bit lost in thought. The meal, the generous gifts, the opulent surroundings, the mélange of smells still drifting around the table, even the distant rain, grown stronger since our arrival; all together it drew round in my brain, too many things to sort through all at once. It was odd how I could handle such things in other situations.

"Jiri, have you had a good birthday?" I refocused to see Helen smiling at me.

"I have. Thank you all. It's been an honour. I feel like nobility."

"Oh shucks." Obviously my father, with his plain language. "We were hoping you'd feel like royalty."

"Royalty has too many obligations. I've not got the head or want for matters of the world."

He stared at me for a moment, as did Helen, who at least was smiling. Asaph carried on with his tea as though nothing was unusual. "That...that just came out of you, didn't it? You spend a lot of time thinking about that kind of stuff, don't you?"

"I read a lot about them." More specifically about their treasures, and those of their regions and nations. The art of every area of the world...I sighed just thinking about it.

"Getting tired? I don't blame you; you've had a long day." He laughed softly, under his breath.

I was tired, come to think of it, although he had misinterpreted my sigh. It wasn't important. "A bit. It must be near midnight by now."

He checked his watch, a surprisingly expensive-looking piece for a man who lived so pathetically despite his fortune. "It's close to ten. We should hit the road, since I think they close at ten. I had a great time."

"Me too," Helen added. "Corbin, we'll have to come here sometime, just the two of us."

"Oh?" Asaph quirked an eyebrow, his voice turning up at the end. "Jirarudan never speaks of these things, so I'm terribly behind on you, Corbin. Considering that your son is my business, I feel that I must."

Helen laughed, something high and bubbly. "We've been seeing each other for a while now. Almost as long as we've known you!"

But the discussion of relationships seemed inappropriate. Petty gossip had no room in these situations, and it was strange to see Asaph entering into it. Why was he so interested? "So, we spoke of leaving?"

My father turned to me, eyebrows furrowed. "I...guess we did. Everyone ready? I pre-paid so we can just go."

As we all stood from the table, I tucked the book under my arm and the envelope into my inner jacket pocket, taking the jewelry box into my hand. "I had a wonderful time. Thank you all for coming." Saying so, I bowed midway.

"Ooh, our little society boy," Helen said as she bowed back, at a smaller angle, and Asaph followed suit. Though my father had already wandered off, seemingly unaware of my gesture.

When I looked back from where he had vanished to, Asaph was offering his arm. "Shall I accompany you up the stairs, young sir?"

Helen laughed, and she looked what the pictures had called amused. "Two gentlemen."

For some reason I wanted to ignore that. I took his arm and he led me up the grand staircase. The sound of the rain outside, pounding against the door and window, was soothing in a way, and I thought back to something I had read about how there was something in our psychology to find rain relaxing, though I couldn't remember why. "I believe Corbin went to fetch the car."

"He should have said something."

"Yes, he should have. Although he's polite in manners of business, the ideas of everyday manners escape him."

Helen had followed us, and nodded, I assume in agreement. "He's got some work to do. But I've talked to him. I'm going to go wait out there for him, and I'll tell you when he's pulled up." The windows were red, of course, in keeping with the theme, and it was nearly impossible to see out of them.

"Very well. I will see you both later, Helen. Give my best to Corbin."

"I will." She held the door open for a moment, pulling her umbrella open outside before joining it, leaving me with Asaph.

"I must be heading back myself. I'd love to have you over some time, perhaps for a few days."

That sounded like paradise! "And I'd love to join you. Do you have a preference in date?"

"Not especially. Though autumn in the hills is a sight to behold, and I want to share it with you." He smiled, and I didn't need my pictures to identify it as kindly.

"I'll call you and we'll arrange this. Will Veronica be joining us?" Her appearance in Seafoam had been a surreal experience, but I still valued her company.

"Perhaps, if she wishes. I haven't seen her since that trip you both took to Viridian, though I've spoken to her. It's about time I reach out."

That was relieving for some reason. "I look forward to hearing her answer."

The door poked open slightly and Helen told us that the car was ready, so I said my goodbyes and headed out, shielded under her umbrella.





The drive back to Seafoam saw drowsiness catch me, lulling me to sleep with the gentle, repetitive motion of the car over the road, and the feel of the brooch under my ringed finger. I fell into dreams to the sound of the rain.
 

Blackjack Gabbiani

Clearly we're great!
There was a phenomenal magic in the air, the mid-November snow falling gently from the heavens as I came down the long driveway to Asaph's mansion. It was enough to make me forget, at least for a moment, that I'd had to take the bus and walk from the highway, but it had been a pleasant enough journey, allowing me to reflect on the event.

On my approach, I saw Tierney pull out of the other side of the looped driveway, her car the latest style. Veronica was in the doorway, and she waved enthusiastically, dropping her suitcase and seeming not to notice the floor staffer that pulled it inside.

The brief cloud of snow that the tyres pulled up brought my thoughts to my future airship. Though I had pondered on the idea long before my birthday, that declaration had cemented it in my head. It was cold in the atmosphere, colder than this, but I would be safe and warm in my ship, overlooking the snow and fog in my world of fantasy.

"You're looking well, young master Jirarudan." Asaph's address, but it came from Veronica. Somehow I had continued to the door during my vision. "Please, come in."

The doorman chuckled. I suppose he had said the same to her a few moments before. It was strange to me how I was to tip a doorman or valet at a hotel but not at a home, despite both being salaried. There was so much in society that made little sense, and it helped to follow Asaph's word and view it as playing a part, going through scenarios as though they were secret codes meant to unlock our social connections.

"Jiiiii~riiiii~" Veronica had started prodding me gently in the arm. "Don't you have something to say?"

It took me a second. "Oh! Greetings, Veronica. How does the day find you?" I think I had heard a similar welcome from Asaph once.

"Getting a little hazy with the weather there? Maybe Articuno froze your brain?" She was grinning widely, her bright white teeth seeming akin to the snowfall. "You're being a bit of a space case today and we've only just got here. Your dad drop you off at the road, is that why you walked up?"

"He couldn't come. I took the bus."

Her grin vanished. "You hate the bus. And that would mean you'd have to walk from the highway."

"Yes." Of course that's what it meant. Why would she bother to state that?

"Well, what happened? Is he ok?"

"My father?" That was what she was asking, I assumed. "He's fine. Somebody died in the factory and he has to meet with the authorities."

By then her face had taken on the guise of what the pictures had labeled 'horrified'. "Oh my god! That's awful! What happened?"

"Somebody died. That's all I know. Likely an explosion from an out of control furnace, or a falling beam." I hadn't heard any explosions, so the first was unlikely though still possible, though I tended to think the second, as they were working on another C class for an unimportant customer.

She rested a hand on my arm. "That's...so awful. I'm so sorry."

Her reaction seemed odd, and I came razor-close to asking her why, but figured it would be inappropriate. Better to save that for Asaph later. Although on that subject, "Where's Asaph?"

She made a faint choking sound. "I don't know. Here, they said. Somewhere in the house."

Was she disturbed by the change of subject? There was so much guesswork in the delicate uncoding of society. "His employees don't know?" I peeked over my shoulder towards the doorman, who had taken my suitcase and set it with Veronica's. He looked towards me soon after I had him, and shrugged.

"That's strange. Usually he'd be greeting us."

"Last I saw he was in the guest room upstairs. He's probably getting things all set for you. You know what a perfectionist he can be. I can take you two up there." The doorman picked the bags up again and waited for our word.

"All right! Let's go up there together!"

The doorman nodded and headed towards the stairs.




"Wow, it's like a ski chalet up here, with the snow coming down outside," Veronica remarked. The wooden interior certainly gave off that vibe, the heavy beams and minimal decoration evoking that faraway image. The last point was on her mind as well. "I wonder why he keeps it so plain."

"I keep it that way," Asaph said, emerging from the guest room as the heavy double doors closed slowly behind him, "so that my collection stands out even more."

"We were just wondering where you were! It's good to see you!"

He bowed slightly, in a western manner with his arm bent before him. "Greetings. Welcome to my humble home. I trust it's to your liking."

We both returned the gesture, Veronica's bow shallower than mine. "It's been far too long since I've been here," I said.

"Me either," she added. I'd forgotten that she'd stayed there after Mr. Higuchi's party, that fateful night half a year ago. "Asaph, are we going to see your gallery today? It's really beautiful."

He smiled, and pushed his glasses up a little farther. For some reason he was wearing the pince-nez he'd worn that day, and at a few other occasions. "Of course. Get unpacked and we can go there immediately."

"Yay!" She wiggled, I assume in excitement, and hummed as she headed to the guest room.

I remained, unsure of something. "Jirarudan, are you all right?" Asaph rested a hand on my shoulder, the same way Veronica had earlier.

"...Veronica had a strange reaction to something earlier, and I don't understand. She acted as though I was the strange one, and I'm concerned about it."

"Is that so? What was it?"

I pursed my lips in thought. "I had to take the bus today, and walk from the highway. My father couldn't bring me, because there was a death in the factory." At that he gasped slightly, but let me continue. "I feel like it shouldn't affect me, because it doesn't. I didn't know the man, and his life had nothing to do with mine."

He thought for a moment. "Are you happy that it wasn't your father?"

"I'm not sure. It's a world apart. If he died, it would impact me directly. I...don't think I would care otherwise."

A frown. "I think you would. I know you would. You're a smart boy."

What did that have to do with anything? But I'd already asked him so much. Maybe later. "All right..."

"Now!" he exclaimed, patting me on the shoulder with a lightness that belied his emphasis, "go get unpacked. Put your things in the dresser, since you're staying a few days, and then I'll take you both to the gallery."






The much vaunted gallery was along the front hallway, across from the room where his glorious Madame Remi was displayed, and before the library on the end. Opening the doors was akin to entering a museum, which Asaph knew well, setting a scene with his slowness. We savoured the experience, and were greeted with a glow before us, captured in a beam of natural light. This was the gem he had sought before, the fabled Eye of Dawn, and he led us first to it. "Isn't it wonderful? I saw it in a book and I had to have it."

Veronica let out a long breath, ducking her head up and down to view it at different angles. Being an opal, this meant a shifting vision through the spectrum. I followed suit.

It was a remarkable gem, flawless, and regarded highly. I, too, had seen pictures of it before Asaph had ever mentioned it, although it was indistinguishable from other opals save for the smoothness of its round cut. Even the scepter it had once rested in had left no mark.

Perhaps it really was blessed. As the story went, it had been been possessed by an ancient priestess whose region was attacked by brigands, who stole the scepter, yet the Eye of Dawn remained. She claimed that her god had hidden it away until the invaders had left, although a more likely explanation was that they had come from a region where shell resin was used to similar visual effect and they had thought the gem to be only coated.

Even if it was as mundane as that, it didn't really matter. What did was the end result, displayed on a velvet pillow on a dark wood pillar. Its dark surroundings offset it wonderfully, giving it a glow beyond its own properties.

Veronica hadn't altered her view the entire time, staring at the otherworldly gem as though it had put a spell on her. "What are you thinking of, Miss Veronica?" Asaph asked with an uplift to his voice.

"...Buying this. I want to buy it."

His head tilted back slightly, his eyes widening slightly. They were green again that day, and despite the shock of the moment, I realised that I had no idea what colour they really were. "Miss Veronica..." he began, but trailed off.

"I mean it. Name your price and I'll pay it." Normally we would negotiate, but we were dealing with our own mentor.

"Veronica..." This sounded farther away than his prior address. "...I..." Words seemed to catch in his throat. This gem had meant so much to him, to be suddenly propositioned on it was entirely out of the blue. "I'll think about it. I'll have an answer for you by the end of your stay."

She sighed, finally diverting her gaze. "Thank you. I promise that you won't regret it."

He signed as well, nearly twice the length of hers as though he had much more to say behind it, though words didn't manifest. Instead, he simply wandered towards the door.

"Asaph?" Her voice was soft. "If you don't want to part with it, I understand."

"I said I'll think about it. Now, come along." After a short pause, he left the room entirely.




We took a moment to follow, unsure of what to do, and when we did, Asaph wasn't to be found. Perhaps he was in the library.

It was an ancient-seeming room, one no older than the rest of the mansion but kept intentionally old-fashioned by way of dim lights against dark wood, both in past-century styles. The shelves, lining the wall, were hand-carved, ever-so-slight imperfections showing their true nature, and held their strength against the weight of so many volumes.

A few books had their own spaces, contained in glass cases on velvet risers on pillars of the same dark wood. Some were open to pages, some simply modestly displayed their covers. I'd only heard of one, a ridiculous novel of poor literative quality but nonetheless renowned for being among the first to take to a printing press. Of course, there had been several of those--Asaph and I had seen one together--all with their faults and flaws, but all with the same goal of bringing reading to the masses. Though it did nothing to improve the quality of the written word. People could gripe and moan about the modern era, but schlock and pabulum have always been the predominant quality of entertainment.

Which was what made true art all that more important. In every age, they were that which had risen above low expectations to grasp what was important. It didn't matter if they weren't popular, or if people didn't understand them; the only thing that mattered was having something truly worthwhile to say, statements that would ring out beyond their era.

"You're spacing out. Are you ok?" Veronica was standing before another displayed book, this one shown flat on its back with a map centrepiece unfurled around it, showing one of the first attempts to explore the Kata Tjuta region. Of course, they were all colonists, but even the natives had never attempted such a massive feat. It can be amazing what fresh eyes will see. I suppose I must have been thinking of that instead of answering her because she repeated herself, about twice as loud.

"Veronica, please. We're in a library." I smirked to show her it was a joke.

"Well, are you?"

I looked back at the book in front of me. "I suppose. Are you?"

She sighed, moving to sit on a long chaise lounge whose dark green subtly offset the dark brown of the wall next to it. I think, had we been in more relaxed surroundings, she would have flopped onto it. "I don't know. I think he's really mad at me. But he never said no. He always told us to be direct if we're not willing to part with something, and he didn't do that. I shouldn't have said anything though. I know how much that gem means to him."

"Well, as you said, if he didn't want to, he would have said something. I think we ought to take him at his word that he'll consider it."

"...all right." She looked skywards with another sigh. "It's really neat, isn't it? The ceiling." I followed her gaze to the carved panels, all perfectly square and interlocked. "The scrollwork is amazing."

"It is. Though it's a bit plain, just along the edges like that."

She giggled. "You're always one for the more rococo styles, aren't you? All ornate and fancy."

"Not always!" For some reason that made me defensive and to this day I've no idea why. "Neoclassical, art deco, primitives...I love so many styles!"

That pulled her to her feet. "I didn't know you were so protective. I'm sorry."

Something in her demeanor seemed dour and downcast, so I reached a hand to her shoulder. "It's all right. I think I reacted out of kind."

"You rarely come across so passionate. I mean, I know you ARE, but to hear it in your voice was...unexpected."

I pulled my hand back just a bit to pat her shoulder a few times instead. "Is it that rare?"

That prompted another laugh from her. "You really can't tell, can you? That's so weird. You're weird."

I took a step back and bowed shortly. "At our social standings, the term is 'eccentric'."

"Ah yes, I forgot. That's so eccentric. You're eccentric." By this time she was grinning, the strain over her dilemma seemingly forgotten.

With that defused, I considered our surroundings. Perhaps there was something here that could aid in our quests for the legendaries. I started to examine the bookshelves, and was pleased that they were grouped by subject.

"Thoughts are getting away with you, aren't they? What are you looking for?"

It had been a reasonable conclusion, I thought. Surely the same had occurred to her to do. "Information on our legendaries of choice. We may be able to find something here."

"Ooh, that sounds like fun."






We spent a few hours like that, finding nothing but sharing notes on what we thought may be relevant to the other. Though it was nothing that we didn't know, it was amazing to find such information laid before us.

Finally we left the library, and Veronica challenged me to a game of chess in the den. But once we opened the elegant doors, there was Asaph, leaning back on the couch with a glass of something in his hand. The room had been lit only through the windows, and by that hour it was growing dim.

"I'm still considering your offer, young lady Veronica," he said in an uneven voice. "Though I need to clear my head first."

"Where did you go to?" I asked.

He sat up straighter. "The kitchen. I was thirsty." After a beat, he rose, grunting slightly as he did. "I'm not nearly as young as I used to be. Time marches on...Pardon me." With a sigh, he headed for the door, and we both made room for him.

"He seems really upset," Veronica remarked. "And is he drunk?"

I'd smelt his breath as he passed, laden with alcohol. "It seems that way. He never drinks to excess." I thought I should continue. "But if he'd been adamant on keeping the gem, he would have said so, so I doubt that's the reason."

"I guess. But he still seems upset."

"Perhaps he received unsettling news. We only got here around noon; who knows what happened this morning."

This time she did flop onto the couch, where he'd been sitting. "I guess. Maybe he heard about what happened in your father's factory."

I doubted that was the case. He'd seemed surprised when I brought it up, and even if he had prior knowledge, he'd have no reason to react so poorly. It would certainly make the news, but not until the evening, after any necessary people had been informed. "I feel a bit odd."

"Eh?" She looked back at me. "About the factory?"

That took a stretch of the imagination. "No, it's...I feel like I ought to have expressed my interest first. And yet it didn't occur to me. I would like to possess the Eye of Dawn as well."

There was that light laugh again, every bit the society lady. "Who knows? Maybe someday you will."

"Maybe I'll have to obtain it from you." I was certain to make my laugh match hers.

But it didn't seem to work, and she changed the subject as abruptly as she often claimed I did. "Jiri...I'm so stressed out. School is getting harder every day."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I sat beside her. "What subjects are you in?"

"The usual. You're so lucky that you don't go. And I wish I could take you to the dance, but it has to be someone else from the school, and you're too young too. I don't like anyone there. They're all so shallow."

"Compared to us shining stars, anybody would be."

"You still remember that, huh? That was a nice trip. I want to go to Goldenrod again sometime."

"Oh?" I leaned back a bit. "You didn't seem to enjoy yourself at all. You were very melancholy in the air, and you had that to-do in the hotel. I wouldn't have thought you had any fun at all."

"Aaah," she sighed, "but the art was divine, and the party was otherworldly. It was, yeah, it was like going to another planet where everyone was so classy and beautiful."

"And your dance won't be nearly as glamorous."

"Not at all! Ugh, teenage boys are so gross. Teenage girls for that matter, but in a different way. You're lucky you've got all this knowledge going into it. I don't think you'll get gross. I know you won't."

"Well, thank you for that. Though I'm not looking forward to puberty. I've started it already, a little bit, but I've got to prepare for the skin issues that will arise." I realised after I said it that it was impolite to say such disgusting things.

She noticed it too, and tisked slightly. "Jiri my boy," she had lowered her voice to say that, imitating Asaph's tone, "you need to think before you speak." In her normal voice, she continued. "If I may share too much, it can take a lot to mask those things. I think I told you about that before, how my mom hired these makeup people to make me 'presentable'."

"Yes sir," I replied to the first part, and she looked at me strangely.

Before she could say anything, one of the servants opened the door. "Pardon me, but Master Asaph invites you to dinner."

"Oh!" Veronica exclaimed. "I didn't even notice it was that late. Jirarudan, will you accompany me?"

I rose from the couch and offered her my arm. "M'lady."

She linked hers in mine with a giggle. "M'lord."




The dining hall was the same as always, with low lights and full place settings though it was only the three of us. I'd half been expecting some manner of après-ski menu given our prior comparison, though that idea had only existed in the minds of Veronica and myself. Asaph was seated at the head, by the far window, so we arranged ourselves at his sides. His expression was impossible to read, even with all my studies--nothing in my cards had resembled that.

Veronica seemed equally puzzled, her brow low and eyes indirect. "Asaph, are you well?" she asked.

His attention first went to the attending servant. "Another glass, please." The man nodded and headed to a low wine cabinet that lined the wall. "...I'm fine. I'm still considering your offer, however."

"It is just that, an offer," she reminded him as she set the cloth napkin on her lap. "You're free to decline, of course."

"I'm still considering your offer," he repeated, a slight bit louder. His glass was refilled and he nodded a thanks. "This is the sort of thing you have to learn to deal with."

Oh? Had this been a test? Was his reaction exaggerated to teach us how to deal with difficult collectors? He was overall a calm man, and overall a generous man, so this was uncharacteristic to say the least.

"I understand. You seem to be under stress from it, though."

He shook his head. "Don't make assumptions, Veronica. Consider the facts and examine your target with detachment."

"I am. And the fact is--"

"Veronica. I'll give my answer soon enough. Be patient." His voice had returned to normal, and his expression to neutral. "...Would the both of you care for some wine? Just a taste, of course, but you're under my supervision."

She smiled, and I did as well. "I will," I said, wondering what it would be like. "Are we to bear anything in mind for it?"

Veronica had requested some as well. "You mean things like terrior and legs and stuff? I know legs means how it stays on the glass when swirled, but I can't remember if that's good or bad."

Asaph chuckled. "Concord, fetch them a taste." The man nodded and retrieved two glasses from the cabinet, as well as the same bottle from before.

The smell was strange, though Asaph would buy only the best. I swirled it around as I'd seen at parties before taking a sip, and I immediately regretted it. It was sour and bitter and went straight to the tip of my nose. But it was what people of class drank, so I sipped again, pushing the resistance away.

Veronica seemed to be doing the same thing, pondering each taste as though it was a fine gem, though her thoughts on it were impossible to tell. "It's a bit dry."

"Yes, it's supposed to be. What else?"

"Uh...I'm going to guess it's got wepear berries in it. And maybe a bit of bluk too."

I wasn't picking up on any of that. The fermentation seemed to overpower everything else, and I wondered if I should say that. After another sip, though, I found myself muttering "I'd rather just have water."

Hearing that, he laughed. "You'll be expected to drink wine at many occasions. You should get used to it. Tell me, how does it taste?"

In my head, the answer was simply "bad", but I couldn't very well say that aloud. "I can't really taste much of it. The alcohol is so strong that everything else is lost."

A nod. "That makes sense, if you're not used to it."

"I feel like it isn't a good match to dinner. I don't know what it is, but going by the smell it seems like they'd counteract," Veronica mused, in her own world.

"I suppose time will tell," he told her. "Speaking of..."

Concord nodded, something I only noticed out of the corner of my eye, and headed into the kitchen.

Veronica was watching Asaph, I presume to pick up on any reaction he may have towards her, and didn't take her eyes off him until after our plates were set before us. It was Kantan fare, the clam and leek soup over rice so popular in Celadon. Briefly I thought back to the time we'd had Farfetch'd salad, and wondered what Veronica would have thought of that.

After we'd begun on it, Asaph instructed us to try another sip. A moment passed once we had before the tastes melded. "That's di--that's not very good," Veronica remarked, lips slightly tight. "They don't go at all."

I looked down at the bowl, trying to sum up the words to describe the disjointedness of the tastes. "It...seems like somebody attempted to dress a clam up with fruit juice and sat it in the sun."

Veronica giggled, but Asaph wasn't amused at all. "Jirarudan, you're being very rude. You know better than to make such insulting comments. Now, sit outside."

That was confusing, and I stared down while I pondered what it could mean.

"Sit outside." It was a bit louder.

"Sit outside? I don't understand."

"Concord will take your chair. You'll sit in the hallway until you can restate your thoughts elegantly."

I'd heard about such actions, in stories both fiction and fact, though they were all set in older times. Modern variants were only found in schools, I'd thought, and involved water buckets, but even those seemed sensationalised. It was as though I'd suddenly been taken elsewere, much farther than the hallway.

My distance from them was more than a few metres. How far had I gone? Was this part of Asaph's strange behavior or had I truly been so offensive? It was a bit over the top, I knew. Was that enough? The sour taste in my mouth was from far more than the wine.

I could hear them talking inside, reduced to pure voice without distinct words. Was it about me? About the wine or dinner? About our fantasy through Seafoam--no, he wouldn't know about that. I wondered what he would have thought of it, and remembered his anger at our excursion to Viridian.

Asaph had changed. Or maybe I hadn't noticed these things to begin with. He wasn't the calm man I'd first met, taking on strange nervous traits. Though he was getting older, and seemed far more concerned about it than before. He had taken to slightly dyeing his hair, returning more yellow to it, and had added brown contacts to his rotation (unless that was his natural color). His wardrobe hadn't changed, though from pictures I'd seen, he dressed much the same throughout his life.

Instead of thinking further about Asaph, I took the path set by the wardrobe. I liked the clothes I saw around, though I had yet to find my ideal look. Once I did, though, I wanted to wear nothing but. Something for all weather, that would look classy in all circumstances.

My mind again took a branched road, to the weather. Last winter, Asaph had mentioned a heated pool for his Milotic, which he hadn't brought up since. The grand double doors to the back garden were down the hall from me, and I considered heading over there. But I'd been told to sit, so I did. Milotic could wait.

I'd sat there until I lost track of time, when Concord retrieved me. I returned to my seat as Veronica and Asaph chatted away, and I wondered if they noticed me. But Veronica smiled at me as I drew up my chair.

"Have you thought of a better way to phrase it?" Asaph asked with an arched eyebrow.

I hadn't been thinking of anything like that. Had I been meant to? "I...suppose it tasted of low tide," I mused, thinking of the clamdiggers in Seafoam. "The clams are fresh, but the wine made them seem old. It acted against the miso as well, giving them a sweet and sour taste where it should be salty. It throws the taster off."

He leaned back. "Very good. You have to reign in your words. You're a gentleman now."

That made me feel better, somewhat warm. "I'm glad to hear that. May I ask what I missed?"

"I was telling him about the summer line that mother is working on," Veronica filled in. "The world classics line that we modeled was a hit, so she's looking to more varied regions now."

"She never released mine, did she? I haven't seen it in the catalogs or stores."

"No she didn't." A slight giggle. "It was deemed impractical for trainers, due to the fabric. It isn't meant for travel."

"Mm, too bad. It was a classic look. Though I wouldn't expect a trainer to appreciate that."

She sat back in her chair, tilting her heat back to gaze at the ceiling. "Someone called it 'poncy'. I was surprised."

"That isn't a word you hear often," Asaph added. "Jiri, was it you?" He was smiling slightly, with only one corner raised.

I waved my hand in front of my face as if dispelling the thought. "It does sound like something I'd say, but I rather liked that design. What other regions is she looking to?"

"Uh...the Mara region was one she brought up." It was in far off Kenya, known for its enormous pokemon populations. "She's planning a safari look with local style. I don't remember the others. She was thinking Mn Nefer as well, but she stopped because she was only relying on the ancient past for it."

Another faraway region, modern, but once the home of powerful pharaohs. "Yes, we have to have both. The past is the past, but the present can draw from it."

Asaph finished the draught he was taking before replying. "That's very wise. The both of you are very intelligent."

Veronica smiled, broader this time. "Thank you. We're shining stars, after all."

It took me a moment to remember why that term made my stomach sink.

"Of course. Although, I must excuse myself." He patted his mouth with the cloth napkin before gesturing for Concord. "Please tell the kitchen that it was excellent. Pardon me." Standing, he bowed to us deeply and left the room.

I watched Veronica, who was looking towards the door where he had exited, expression back to plain. "Don't worry about it." I hoped I was being reassuring.

"It's what I said." She seemed to droop as she spoke. "It's always what I say. I make things worse all the time."

That had never seemed to be the case. "No you don't. I've always found you to be very polite."

After a pause, she set her spoon over her bowl, the signal that she was finished as well. "Really?"

"Really." Since we were all finished, I set mine as well. "Have you known me to be anything but forthcoming?"

That merited a smile. "I guess that's true. You're sly, you have a devious side, but you're honest."

Sly and devious? Those were unusual. "How do you mean?"

"Well, you had no trouble with the offer Lucrezia's son came to us with, or for my adventures. And you're always looking for opportunities for your collection. You've got a keen eye that's always open."

I sat straighter. "Thank you very much. I admire the way you look at the world, your uniqueness and quirks. You seem like an artist that way." Talking in that way...whatever it was seemed comforting to me. Putting it into words made me think about it in ways that I couldn't when I simply thought about it.

"You're so sweet." She waved a hand in front of her face. "I wish I was as creative as you though. You seem like you're seeing everything for the first time, and it gives you a great fresh perspective."

That was a positive way of looking at things. Better than my frustrations with the world. "That sounds good."

"Still..." she sighed, "I wish that I knew why he left so quickly. Have you ever wished you were psychic?"

"Sometimes, I suppose." The change of subject was a bit baffling. "I assume you specifically mean that you wish to be telepathic rather than, say, telekinetic."

That giggle seemed to indicate that she was perking up. "I guess I do! Yes, that's what I mean. He's so hard to understand today." Even though the conversation had returned to Asaph, she smiled and continued to.

A servant came to gather the dinnerware, so I relayed Asaph's message and posed the offer to Veronica to return to the library.




Despite us being culturally mature, for the purposes of society and manner, Veronica and I were still considered children. It was a matter of frustration that we would have to become adults twice, but for the night it meant that we shared the single bed in the guest room. Asaph entertained frequently, but usually those making the short journey from Viridian, and so he was equipped to suit that.

For all her modern style, Veronica's nightdress was of an old fashion, and foreign, all ruffles along the sleeve and collar, draped to the ankle. Most exotic was that she wore a nightcap, her long blonde hair tucked mostly underneath it. Mine was more typical of our location, a pajama set in dark blue, with a breast pocket for show. It was plainer than I liked, but the material was far more comfortable than her cotton garment looked.

She adjusted the elastic along her cap as she sat, then took a moment to turn off the bedside lamp. "Want to know a secret?" she asked conspiratorially.

"Ooh, palace intrigue?" I leaned in, across my side of the bed. "Go on."

"I don't need my night light now."

That was impressive, after the to-do in Goldenrod. "Wonderful! What changed?"

She laid back against the pre-fluffed pillows. "I dimmed a light a little each night for a while until I was more used to it. Though it still bothers me a little."

"Every little bit," I murmured, sliding under the soft covers. The blanket was every bit as fluffy and thick as an Altaria's wings, and the faint howl of the wind through the woods just outside the window gave an air of gothic drama. Briefly my mind wandered back to the events of the morning, of the sirens and fuss in the factory, and wondered what the employee's family was doing against the cold right then. I'm still not sure why.

"I hope Asaph is all right," she sighed, her arms folded over the top of the pulled blanket. "Where do you think he went after dinner?"

"I couldn't guess."

"Aah, but I can't stop thinking about that jewel! It's so entrancing, like a magic ball."

The light on my end of the bed was still on, but I turned towards her instead, lying on my side and propping my head up on my arm. "You're a true collector, to be so impassioned. I hope to find that sort of passion in my career. It's admirable."

I would, as you know, come to that consumed life in due time.

"Yeah...you will, I think. You're the type that won't have any trouble with it." Smiling a bit and closing her eyes, she added "are you ready to go to bed?"

It had been a long day, feeling like two of them if not more. "Of course." I turned off the light, letting only the dim perimeter lights and the moon off the snow in. "Good night, Veronica."

"Good night, Jirarudan. I hope tomorrow is easier on both of us."

I hoped so too.
 
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