novelzi Chapter 343 – Happy Birthday!
Chapter 343 – Happy Birthday!
Chapter 343 – Happy Birthday!
CHAPTER 343 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Alcohol flowed freely as Amber Stewart's birthday party came to life inside Ronaldo's sprawling penthouse. The living room buzzed with energy, a whirlwind of people and Pokemon moving to the pounding beat of the music. Cassandra, ever the clown, belted out off-key lyrics for the crowd's amusement, drawing laughter and groans in equal measure. Meanwhile, Temperance's Whimsicott danced with Kael, leading him in a playful whirl under the gentle breeze she conjured. Temperance herself was doubled over with laughter, her Dragonair draped lazily across her lap, letting out an indignant growl whenever her hand paused mid-pet. Amid the chaos, Amber sat stiffly beside Temperance, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Normally, her sharp wit had no trouble cutting through Cassandra's antics, deflecting Kael's doting compliments, or matching Ronaldo's long-winded speeches. But tonight, she was quieter, her usual sharp tongue replaced by nervous silence. Her shyness was never far when Temperance was around, but tonight it seemed magnified, her unease more noticeable against the laughter and cheer echoing around her.
Cecilia herself couldn't focus, either. She no longer found dancing enjoyable—and they knew as much—so at least she had an excuse to be sitting. She found refuge at the bar away from Temperance's worried gazes, her gaze drifting toward the glittering lights of the League outside, as if anchoring herself to the world beyond the party. She wished, more than anything, that she could allow herself a drink, let the alcohol dull the edge of her thoughts. But not tonight. Tonight, her mind had to stay clear like the sky on a beautiful day.
Still thinking? Slowking said beside her, his hands behind his back. He curiously browsed the selection of drinks at the counter—Tanqueray Gin straight from Galar, Chardonnay from Kalos, Paldean Wines from Ronaldo's family's vineyard, and all kinds of the usual hard liquor and mixing beverages. You ought to rip off the band-aid. Carefully. Like, you know when you douse it under warm water to get at the edges, but at the end of the day you're gonna have to get to it anyway—
Cecilia exhaled long and hard. "I know what taking off a band-aid is like." She reached for her glass of cold water and took a swig, enjoying the frigid sensation within her. "And I hate that metaphor."
I mean, we can talk metaphors all night; we can also just differ in opinions and cut to the chase. Slowking took a step in the air, the invisible barrier not even making a sound under him, and he sat on one of the high chairs next to her. His stubby legs dangling up and down were quite cute. Unless you do want to talk about metaphors all night. Wouldn't surprise me—
Cecilia threw the rest of her water at him, knowing he'd easily stop it. The gem atop his Shellder shone bright red, and the liquid turned to a thin line, snaking its way back into her glass with an elegance fit for someone who'd gotten water thrown at them their entire life. That was before the psychic nudged his head up, and a few drops of water flew on Cecilia's face.
"My makeup!" she whined and lunged at one of the napkins.
You dish it out, but you can't take it. Slowking winked, evaporating the water in an instant. Did our fighting like a couple of children make you feel better?
She gave it some thought, leaning against one of her palms as she twirled her glass around. Cecilia hadn't realized she'd been smiling, but the respite only lasted a moment. Despair and shame quickly clawed their way back into her, tunneling through skin like worms into soil until they reached her heart; they clung to her, making her body feel like lead. Her ankles, her wrists were rigid; her knees would have buckled under the weight of such pressure had she been standing. The Unovan finished her water, and Slowking gave her a refill by dragging some out of the tap and levitating it directly into her glass. She needed more—she was out of breath, she was—she was cold—her fingertips felt so numb it was as if her hands weren't hers—
A hand and a dull claw gently scraped across her back. Why don't we go somewhere more private? He looked around nervously to see if anyone had noticed, but Cassandra's latest fall had everyone enthralled. Temperance will most likely come check in on you soon; she doesn't like it when you're isolated too long.
"And this time I don't have 'studying for a battle' as an excuse." The Unovan wiped cold sweat off her face, and her fingers lingered on the edge of her biggest scar until feeling returned to their tips. "I don't think I was this nervous when I was about to face Jupiter, even."
Adrenaline and not caring about your life back then was a horrible mixture. Slowking waved a hand dismissively. So? Shall we?
"Mhm."
She carried her glass of water like it was her lifeline, making her way over the edge of the busy living room. Music boomed in her ears, the vibration going through her as if she were in a concert. Would they get noise any complaints tonight? Did it even matter?
"Cecilia!" Cassandra called out, nearly out of breath. Her body was covered in sweat, and multicolored lights reflected on her skin—or at least she'd been told it was multicolored. "Stop sulking about some battle and come dance with us!"
"There's no us! Gah!" Ronaldo screamed when Whimsicott blew a gust of air at him, and he stumbled back. "Temperance! Get your foul beast off me—ah!"
They were fun, these people. Out of touch, perhaps, but as kind as they could manage. Kinder, even, than she had ever been in her days as a sheltered rich girl. The same, she supposed, could be said of her friends.
Oh. She'd forgotten herself. Her old friends.
"I'll come by later, I just need to discuss something with Slowking," she said back. "We'll be just... ten—twenty minutes. Sorry, Amber. I know this is your birthday, but..."
Amber, for her part, answered with a ghost of a nod, not even meeting her eyes. Temperance did not say anything, but her eyes betrayed the clarity with which she saw Cecilia. Slightly narrow, eyebrows raised with worry, and an unspoken expression that seemed to ask if she needed her. Cecilia bit her lip and mouthed back a 'soon.' She just had to get her thoughts in order. She just had to get her thoughts in order. She just had to get her thoughts in order...
Room. A bedroom, to be exact. You could tell it was Ronaldo's by all of the Paldean things he kept in it. His family's heraldry hung on his wall: a stylized Bombirdier give that the species roamed the mountains of his house. A handwoven rug he had transported up here was spread across the floor, its bold light colors forming patterns reminiscent of Paldean tapestry. Paldean books, brands, everything and anything. You could tell he was somewhat homesick, even if he had come here to spread his wings away from his mother's watchful eye.
"I hope he doesn't mind." Cecilia wasn't sure he would approve her being in here, but already, her breaths came easier. With a hand on her chest, she took deep inhales and exhales. "I'm okay. Don't touch anything."
Wasn't going to. I'm not Toxicroak. After a pause, the water type raised his hands with a grin. She might hit me over the head if she hears. You wouldn't sell me out, would you?
Cecilia leaned against the walls with her arms half-crossed and imagined it—a well-placed Brick Break right on Slowking's head. "I won't. Or I will if you don't focus on the matter at hand."
I'm trying to make you relax.
"It's unfortunately working," she answered dryly.
He paused, the words lingering on the edge of his tongue as he seemed to weigh his options. Cecilia braced herself for a witty retort or one of his signature bad jokes. Instead, she got this. How may I be of help, my lady? Why are you finding venting about your anxieties to your own partner so stressful?
Hm.
She knew the answer. It wasn't as if she hadn't hinted at it all throughout this day when she had gathered advice from people she thought would be of help.
"Picture a basement. It used to be a box, but it grew into a chest, then a vault. Over time, it got bigger, more reinforced. Every worry, every fear, every doubt I've had about Temperance's fidelity—I packed them inside and locked them away. And now..." she trailed off, blinking rapidly. "Now I have to just let it out. All of it. It's grown so, so big. It used to be tolerable, but I can't bring myself to fully trust her. I get thoughts. Horrible n—nightmares." The words came out with a shiver. He had seen her waking with tears in her eyes.
The Pokemon tilted his head, letting the words sink in. Do you think she'd refuse to accept you? I am certain she would understand, especially since she knows your history. Temperance is an understanding human. Empathetic toward those she keeps close.
The Unovan did not even hesitate for a moment. "Of course, she would. That's what scares me."
Acceptance?
"Accommodation. As it stands, there'd be no way to fix the way I feel unless we took drastic measures. I'd need—I'd need so much reassurance... it would border on the—no, maybe we could reach compromise." A pause. "Compromise. I start therapy soon. Then maybe. Maybe." She kept whispering the word over in over, thinking about every single way this could go and no doubt not even scratching the surface. "There's also the shame," she said, quieter.
There's nothing to be ashamed of. You were hurt, and now it's like you're expecting to be able to just be able to walk on with a gash in your leg. He pointed at her scarred limb for effect. Grace was the Krokorok in this instance, and this time you didn't kill it.
"Please refrain from bringing her up, especially if it's to put that picture in my head."
The psychic sighed, not understanding, but complying. My apologies. He bowed with an arm on his chest. Let us speak of shame, then.
She chuckled bitterly, tasting bile in the back of her throat until she sipped on more water. "The Copperajah in the room? Sure, let's talk about it. I've felt ashamed of myself for getting my heart broken since that day. I go outside, and it feels like people would laugh at me if they knew. I hear someone talk about her, and I feel the need to quicken my pace to get away from her name. I see her, and I stumble over my words and feel the need to say sorry even if I should not." She'd nearly run out of oxygen. "All I feel is shame except when I'm battling, the only method I have of expressing myself freely."
Wouldn't that mean it would feel good to tell Temperance everything? Isn't that expressing yourself freely?
"I will tell her tonight; I'm tired of running. It's just... I need to work my way up to it. Plus, I wouldn't want to ruin this party for Amber. Arceus, I wish I could hate her." The crush on Temperance was... Cecilia figured it was obvious. Sometimes, she imagined getting in between the two of them and telling Amber to back off.
Oh, who was she kidding?
She'd be too scared of being dumped again. The fear of being abandoned for someone better—more stable and understanding—while she dealt with her issues was a constant pressure that had her feeling like she hadn't taken a clear breath since that evening in Canalave. Stuck in place, dying of thirst around an oasis with so much water available around her.
Cecilia looked down at her near-empty cup, seeing her distorted reflection in the glass. Fingers clasped tightly at the receptacle, a sad smile building upon her visage that hurt the corner of her lips.
"Killing is so much easier than this."
That, it is, Slowking agreed. Let us speak more of this.
—
Nine minutes—no, ten. Ten minutes since Cecilia had gone off on her own, and over forty since Temperance and she had spoken a word to each other. Slightly over an hour since the party had begun. Temperance craned her neck toward the hallway until Dragonair bumped her in the arm with her head. Ever the histrionic dragon, this one, but Temperance loved her all the same. The coordinator gently ran her nails under Dragonair's chin, eliciting a soft vibration from the delicate wings on her head. Even the tip of Dragonair's tail responded, the two pearls at its end softly clinking together as they rattled in delight.
To head over there or to not head over there? Temperance knew Cecilia needed her space when she got like this, or she would close herself off even more and stare you down in... she still didn't even understand what it was. Not anger, but disappointment? No, it wasn't. She knew what disappointed Cecilia looked like. Temperance watched Cassandra collapse on one of the couches for a break with ragged breaths so loud they broke through the music—the music that Kael lowered now that everyone was done dancing. Fear? What did a scared Cecilia look like, even? She'd scantly seen that look on her face. God, why was she so bad at deciphering her own girlfriend's expressions? Cecilia wasn't easy; she could be quiet, lived in her own world most of the time, and despised—truly despised being vulnerable. She was a book closed down by a clasp, shoved into a safe that had been dumped to the bottom of the sea a continent away.
Kael clapped his hands to gather their attention. "Should we do gifts? Ambs, what do you think?" When he did not get an answer, his brows creased with worry. "Ambs?"
Amber was paler than usual—you could tell even with all of the party lights bouncing around. She kept fidgeting with her thumbs, looking down at her lap and mouthing something so quiet no one could hear but herself. Whimsicott spun in the air, growing closer and closer with curiosity until Amber yelped and backed up against the couch.
Temperance wished her girlfriend was this easy to read. New members of her entourage were often nervous around her before they grew used to her presence, either because of her standing amongst those in the coordinator community, some crush or both. Ronaldo had been only a crush, since he was already used to mingling with those society designated as 'above' him in society. Cassandra was her oldest companion, and there had been one-sided sparks there for a while until Temperance talked her down. Kael, meanwhile, did not have a crush, but he had stumbled over his words the first few weeks they'd interacted because of how terrified he'd been of making a social faux pas. Amber had been the most obvious of all, asking Temperance about what she and Cecilia thought of open relationships a few weeks ago with the subtlety of a Snorlax attempting to tiptoe in a library.
Really, the only reason Temperance hadn't privately shot Amber down yet was because she worried about the reaction the little critter would have. She was bright, brimming with potential, and filled with so many great ideas, but she was also... she was also Amber. Skittish as a Wimpod and ready to run at the first sign of hardship. Her life had been blessed by good looks, talent, and intuition; she had not truly faced rejection ever, romantic or otherwise.
Long story short, Temperance would have to pick her words very carefully to not hamper her future. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have cared much; things were so much easier back then.
"Earth to Ambs," Cassandra joked. "Come on, did you get hit by a Confuse Ray, or what? Whimsy, did you—"
The grass type hissed in indignation, a sound that did not sound like it should have come out of her mouth, as if to say she technically didn't know that move, even if she could technically replicate a bootleg version of it that looked pretty.
"Sorry. Erm, if that's—if that's okay with everyone..." Amber trailed off.
Ah. There was her opportunity. "Shouldn't we wait for Cece? Actually, let me go get her," she said before they or her jealous Dragonair could react. Not that they would have said no regardless. They all agreed as she made her way toward the hallway—
"Um—Temperance!" Amber's voice cut through the living room, stunning the coordinator like lightning. "Before we do gifts, actually, could we talk about something, just the two of us?" She gripped the sides of her dress like a child. "It's, um, contest related."
It wasn't contest-related, that much was obvious. Temperance looked back toward the hallway, noticing the light under the door to Ronaldo's bedroom and catching the quiet sound of Cecilia's voice now that everything was so still. She then glanced at Amber, who was trembling like a leaf and looked like she was about to have a heart attack. She was putting everything on the line for this. Oh, dear. Saying no here would destroy her; she could see Amber tearing up already. The coordinator ran her hands through her hair and gave her a reassuring smile.
"Sure, Ambs. Let's go for a walk for a second." Her friends all knew already, having opted to let Temperance deal with this on her own this entire time. "Guys, if Cecilia comes back, you let her know that we'll talk when I'm back."
When she'd said go out for a walk, she had meant it. The ride down the elevator was quiet, but Amber looked just about ready to collapse in on herself. It was quite admirable, to see the girl push herself to. The little rituals she had to calm down—the muttering under her breath, the constant tracing of fingers against her palm, the way she nodded as if to reassure herself. None of it would matter, in the end. Ding, the elevator rang, and they made their way out of the extravagant hotel lobby. Dinners and conversations, laughter and joy, to be surrounded by such things and to be about to crush a girl's dream was... it had to be done.
Even if the Lily was active during the night, it was nothing compared to daytime. One could easily find a deserted street or alley or bench or park for themselves. Temperance did not know where Amber and she were going, but it was only a matter of time until her friend gathered enough courage for a confession. So long as they didn't stray too far and it didn't take too long, the coordinator was willing to make this as easy as possible.
Eventually they stopped a few minutes later in a small, tucked-away park nestled between two towering apartment buildings. The dim glow of streetlights filtered through the sparse canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the worn cobblestone path. A single wooden bench sat beneath an old lamppost, its light flickering faintly, giving the space an almost ethereal quality and inspiring a million contest routines. It wasn't grand or picturesque, but there was an intimacy to it. Was that why Amber had chosen this spot? She looked striking under the soft, flickering glow of the lamppost, the light catching the subtle shimmer of her brown hair, which had been styled into loose waves that framed her face. Her pale skin seemed almost luminous in the dim surroundings, a stark contrast to the dark fabric of her dress.
Amber took a breath. Here goes.
"I—" Amber clearly wanted to stop, every nerve in her body was screaming at her not to do this. Clenched fists, tightened jaw, and a whole lot of desperation. "Temperance, I'm sorry to say this when you—you have a girlfriend. But I can't take advantage of your kindness any longer!" Was that how she saw it? Taking advantage... maybe from her perspective, it could make sense. Amber clutched at her heart, wrinkling her clothes. "I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with you that every second spent thinking that I might never get to date you hurts like my heart's being run through a blender. I can't do this anymore." She laughed nervously, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "So I'm putting it all on the table."
Oh, Legendaries. Temperance wished she would have given up eventually; she figured Amber would have, given that the girl had never been inappropriate with her. Temperance's saddened gaze lingered on her, and she blushed bashfully, face turning away. Boring. Too childlike. But not her fault.
"It must have taken a lot of courage for you to say this," the coordinator sighed. Amber was barely holding it together; this was not what someone wanted to hear after their confession. "I'm sorry, but I don't reciprocate your feelings. I love Cecilia."
—
I see.
Cecilia tried making sense of it in her head instead of attacking, attacking, and attacking to shield herself from the pain for just a few more minutes, and she truly gave it some thought. It was true that Amber's reputation would most likely never recover so long as Temperance was on top of the coordinator world. And surprisingly—
Cecilia did not want this. She found herself caring when she wished she did not.
"I understand," she said, her limbs going limp at her side. "I get it."
"So, can we... just pretend this never happened?" Temperance's voice trembled with a desperation Cecilia had rarely witnessed. It twisted something inside her—an uneasy mix of guilt and gratification. She hated herself for the flicker of warmth that came from knowing she did truly matter to her. She found herself disgusting. "Let's just head back to our own hotel room? I just—I can't handle a party tonight."
Yeah.
Yeah, Cecilia could see herself accepting this. An apology, a smile, a hug, and an 'I love you' whispered in Temperance's ear; it would be easy, too. She might even be forgiven for her outburst toward her friends given a few days despite not deserving that at all. Things would eventually go back to normal, and everything would be fixed.
Everything except for her.
"I'm sorry." Cecilia noticed the shattering of a face—like porcelain under pressure. "I can't."
The words were barely out of the Unovan's mouth when Temperance followed up with a "why?!"
Why?
Because she would never be able to shake the feeling of an impending betrayal. Grace had said the same thing, after all. That she didn't really like Maylene, that the Gym Leader had been but a friend, and then something more then a friend but less than a girlfriend, and then she was gone for a few weeks, and then they made out behind her back.
"I'll never trust you. It's not your fault, but I never will."
"Have I done anything to erode that trust?" Temperance asked, desperate to understand.
"No. It's not your fault," she repeated. "I'm just... not right. I'm going to Unova soon, and every day, I'll wonder if you aren't doing things without my knowing. I'll start wanting to micromanage you, and then I'll start hating you. It won't work." Even if it hadn't been Amber, someone else would have inevitably used their long-distance relationship to confess to Temperance. Their relationship had just been doomed because her sense of trust was broken. "We can't date anymore."
"But we love each other. I've never loved someone as much as you!" she begged.
"We do."
"I—I'll—I changed my mind," she forced out, her breathing uneven as she struggled to form the words. "I'll... I'll do what you asked. I'll talk to Amber and say she can't stay—"
"You don't really want or mean that. You're a good person, Temperance."
Her shoulders sagged. "You start therapy soon. Maybe we can work something out—"
"I realize now that it's meaningless. I'd break up with you now either way. I'm sorry."
Tears in her eyes. "We're so good together."
Tears in hers, too. "We were."
Then, silence. Perhaps a hope from Temperance that Cecilia would change her mind, perhaps a hope from Cecilia that she'd find a way to make things work. Nothing came up.
"Can I go get my things from our hotel room?" Cecilia asked. "If you want, I can come another day—or I can send one of my Pokemon to get it—"
"Just get it now." She hid her eyes with a hand and whimpered. "Just—just get it now so it's over with."
Cecilia called for the elevator, waited what felt like an eternity, and then hopped on, but she was surprised to see Temperance get on, too. Not because she figured the coordinator would try to win her back somehow, but because of how awkward it was going to be—not that Cecilia cared much about such a notion. She just thought Temperance would.
"She ruined you," Temperance hissed through clenched teeth and paced around the elevator. "Grace Pastel broke you like a piece of frail wood over her knee, and now we both suffer for it while she goes around in costume like some cheap... some cheap jester."
"Yes."
She kicked the elevator wall and then moaned in pain. "Fuck. Fuck." She sobbed and stared up at the elevator lights. "How can you forgive her for this? There is not one ounce of regret in that piece of shit."
Cecilia allowed the urge to defend her first ex-girlfriend pass and watched the numbers tick by. Floor 18, 19, 20—it helped. "I was angry for a while. It felt good. Righteous. I raged against everyone and everything around me, which is why I treated you so badly at first." The Unovan stood utterly still. Every extremity felt frigid. "It makes you feel active. In control. It's a very potent illusion, I think." Even before Grace's infidelity, she'd found herself getting angry beyond control. Maylene's mere presence, Coronet in general, Justin's death and her thrashing that house... "I was scared all the time in my childhood, and up until very recently. All the time. So I overcompensate by getting angry and burning everything down. But I'm not angry right now." She finally moved, running a hand through her loose hair. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired."
Temperance blinked at her. "You can say whatever you want; I will never, ever forgive her for taking you away."
"And that is your right." 25th, 26th, 27th floor. "I hope you don't do anything rash."
"...you're too good to her."
"I've seen her down the deepest throes of depression. If I let you hurt her—" and by the Legendaries, Temperance could do so easily "—what does that do for me? Does it bring my sense of trust back? Obviously not. In fact, it probably damages it further in the long run. It doesn't even bring me... petty satisfaction. It's nothing. Just nothing. Smoke. I wasn't a good girlfriend, so she chewed me up and spit me out. It is what it is."
Ding. The elevator doors opened on the 38th floor, and they set out toward their room. Cecilia could tell Temperance walked slower than she could have. The Unovan humored her.
"People will talk," she mumbled, "about the breakup. It'll tarnish your reputation, even if I put out a statement that makes you look good. I mean, I will."
Of course, it would. Two breakups so close to each other? Not only had Grace's rather toxic stans been a sight for sore eyes—already, they'd noticed that the friend group had split completely in Grace's favor; clearly this must have meant Cecilia was a demon who deserved nothing, so she was sure they'd rejoice—but Temperance's was older, more seasoned, and larger.
"Thank you." Cecilia dipped her head. "I appreciate it. I can't do anything about it regardless. No use crying over the inevitable. I'll keep a low profile."
"...are you sure there's really nothing I can do to salvage this?"
"Nothing."
"Damn it."
Their hotel room looked more somber than usual. Beyond clothes and her laptop, Cecilia didn't have much here. She didn't have much in general; nothing kept her tethered to this world. No more friends she could frequently see, with how busy Louis and Chase were these days, no more girlfriend, no more connections. Sometimes, Grace, when it was late at night and neither Grace nor she managed to fall asleep out of fear, her ex often talked about what it meant to be remembered, and what she could do for her name to echo generations beyond their death.
Beyond her Pokemon, Chase, and Louis, Cecilia figured she'd be forgotten in about a few years should she die. She'd be an afterthought in a few minds—remember that Unovan trainer who was in the Conference as a first year? Oh, what was her name again? That would be it. She had no roots planted anywhere, no place to call home, nothing that anchored her to this place. She might as well drift away in the wind as soon as her echo returned to Distortion.
Temperance lent her a bag she could pack all of her clothes in so she wouldn't have to make two trips, and honestly, she didn't feel like having to explain this all to Slowking before she settled inside the nearest Center—Arceus, would there even be room this late into the Conference? Would she have to camp out in the wilderness or sleep on some bench and wait to use the showers in the morning? Two heavy duffel bags in hand, she stood at the door of their room.
"So this is it, then? Nothing to be said to me—you'll just put your head down and pretend all of this is your fault?" Temperance demanded to know.
"It isn't fully—I acknowledge that."
"I—I hate that you're doing this. And—and Grace gets away with this scot-free."
"I think that if the opportunity came by, I'd want to talk to her one last time," Cecilia admitted. "For the last time in a while, at least."
She wanted to gently caress her cheek, to offer her a hug so overwhelming she would no longer be crying, but it would just make things hurt more for the both of them.
"If you start battling worse because of this, if you let this hamper you, I'll make sure you hear from me," Temperance threatened with her arms crossed.
"I'm afraid you've instilled a love for battling in me that is strong enough to withstand this. Even now I'm excited for my fight tomorrow—hopefully, my team cooperates."
"Good."
"And I want to take this opportunity to thank you for everything," Cecilia said. "I—I was lost and at my worst when I found you. I still kind of am, but at least I—at least I'm better. I think." Good enough to see beyond wanting to destroy anything mildly unpleasant, at least. "I honestly had no right to date you—"
Temperance's eyes moistened. "Stop..."
"It's true. I was awful to you in every sense of the word, and you put up with me until I changed. You're so kind, Temperance. Kind, driven, well-spoken, social, at the top of your field—you're everything I aspire to be. I was lucky to have you."
The coordinator rushed forward, wrapping Cecilia into a tight hug, who couldn't help it; she let her bags go and felt her back. It hurt. It hurt a thousand times. A self-inflicted splinter beneath her skin buried deep and bleeding her drop by drop. It was final. It was also soothing, and Cecilia finally got that undisturbed breath she longed for. The embrace felt like an eternity, but it was still too short.
"Thank you for everything," Cecilia said, grabbing her bags one last time. "Tell the others I'm sorry for lashing out at them. I said a lot of unsavory things that they didn't deserve." She turned to open the door but didn't move. She'd nearly forgotten. "Oh. And tell Amber happy birthday for me. I never did tell her."
"I will." A pause. "Think of me once in a while. Take care."
She left.
—
Lehmhart sang a sappy tune, his internal chords producing a melody that was akin to a melancholic piece on a violin—perfect for what she needed. The soft hum of his gears provided a rhythmic undertone, like a metronome with a mind of its own, occasionally skipping a beat. His fingers moved in perfect sync with the music.
Zolst had sprawled across the grass, his central head resting heavily on Cecilia's lap. His snores were enough to make a child stumble, though Slowking would have a lot worse to say about it. Speaking of, nearby, the psychic was nearly finished weaving invisible, opaque barriers around their makeshift camp, enclosing them in a bubble of quiet safety. If they had to sleep under the stars tonight, then they would do so in a sanctuary of their own making. Cecilia exhaled softly, her frustration still lingering from her earlier attempts to find shelter. Four Pokemon Centers, each one turning her away with the same apologetic explanation: no space. The rest of her team, meanwhile, was still at the nearest Center being treated after her latest battle. They'd discover her predicament soon enough, and she could only imagine the reactions.
These three had reacted with... more understanding than she'd have thought. Even the Hydreigon on her lap.
"I'm exhausted," she sighed. "I think I'll go to sleep right away. I have to wake up early if I want to catch a shower. Then I have clothes to iron for my outfit of the day tomorrow..." she'd never ironed before. Something to learn, she supposed. "Yeah."
I'll wake you, Slowking said. Good night, my lady.
Cecilia slid away from Zolst and hopped inside of a sleeping bag.
A hand and a dull claw gently scraped across her back.