How completely and utterly mundane
Since “exploring” the source of noise, dragging along a Persian with her. There seemed to be almost nothing
going on about the island.
(There was something or another going on in May, but she had decided then to return home to her darling Hayden then. The poor Zebstrika had come down with a rather nasty cold and she had gone to take care of her husband. He seemed rather grateful for it, among his murmuring of delirious things about the company and the houses he’d need to fix regarding their electricity levels. Whatever that was supposed to mean.)
Twirling her finger around stray strands of her hair, she kept her legs crossed as she laid on her bed, her belly resting against the very soft mattress. Lifting her feet behind her, she huffed at her hair—just what was
she thinking, dying this strand a bring neon blue? Sighing, she rested her elbows on the comforter and placed her head on top of her hands.
Hearing a soft mewl come from somewhere behind her. She gathered her scatterbrained “boredom” and focused on the weight of the kitten. The Glameow crawled up her naked back, making his way to the top of her head. Right. This little shit had gained his eyesight and hearing for quite
some time now, but she hardly saw it as any reason to celebrate. If anything, she was considering that she should toss him into the local magic shop to be adopted by some other person.
It wouldn’t have occurred to her to do this, if she hadn’t a phone call from a most annoying
Casting her gaze towards the phone stand with the blinking red light, she reached a hand over. It transformed quickly into a longer extension—a Tentacruel’s tentacle, to be precise—and pressed one of the buttons there.
“Hello there Mrs Hamillon! It’s Harands, Fenwok Harands? The Espeon who sold the large house property to you? My partner and I have been wondering if you’ve found a Glameow kitten by any chance? It would seem that we’ve lost one such kitten, he’s a runt. He answers to Omega half the time, but it’s alright if you haven’t seen him! His parents are worried, but you know how it is with Pokemon pets. We’d probably have to give away half the litter anyway. Ah, look at me rambling. In any case, if you do see or hear something about him, please give us a call! I handed you my card before, but here is my current address and the land line…”
She waited a moment for the second message to come out:
“And if you’re free anytime, we can pick up coffee somewhere and chat? I wanna know how you’ve been and all that. The island can be draining on some people, you know. The people there aren’t like any you’ve known before. Doesn’t matter if you’re rich or not, but they’re way out there. So call me!”
The idea brought a lift to her lips and the corners curled upwards into the look of a smile. Yes, quite typical of men who think of pleasure before business. Those who think of business before pleasure brought greater amusement to her. Breaking that sense of hard work ethic…ah, but just how
many men and women out there were so devoted to their work? Obsessed, even.
Her lips pursed. Boring. There simply weren’t enough of the obsessed. Seeing a cotton-fluff piece hanging slightly above her eye-line, she tugged it lightly. “We’re heading out, Mario.”
After the kitten hopped off her head and landed on the carpeted floor on all fours, she glanced to her left, where a full-length mirror greeted her. Her reflection hid nothing that she already knew of her own body. Maneuvering so she was sitting and watching herself, she continued to stare.
The light purple skin that she had kept for, oh, about two or three years now looked smooth and tight. It gathered her the envy of vain women, she supposed. She continued to look up from her petite toes, to her feet, further traveling upward of her thighs towards her flat abdomen and her small torso. Her petite breasts hanging, as globs of fat tissue did; small and enough to be held in a palm. Or something, she never did think to have her breasts be large as water melons, or grapefruits. Having them small best suited her, she felt. Her eyes continued further up, past her slender neck and to her rather large face and eyes.
She was child-like. She was innocence incarnate. She was naïve.
She should be carrying a huge-ass rainbow lollipop around; licking it like no one could see her indulging in the epic sweet flavour.
Her sky-blue eyes were crystal clear. Why would she betray anyone? Certainly, she could only tell the truth…
With a crash, she blinked those blue eyes away, realizing she had smashed the mirror. Shame, Aoi was confident she could have gone another day or two with it. Turning her attention to the cowering ball of fur, she kicked his bum out of her room and headed into her walk-in closet. She needed clothes
for the outside. It was only proper.
It was time for some
change, she supposed. With each step, she unbound her hair as it transformed: the style became slimmer and thinner, the colour gained blue tones, then more green. She left her dyed strand of hair alone, she didn’t want to re-dye
it anytime soon, not when it was the perfect shade as it was. Re-arranging her hair into a loose bun, she stopped for a brief second, her body elongating, adding to her height. Just an inch or two, no problem. Her skin tone changed to an alabaster white, so pale, why; her wrists were nearly translucent and she frowned at her dark veins and blood vessels. How unseemly.
Casting her now ruby-red gaze about, she withdrew black gloves and a new dress she had bought a few weeks ago. The corset fitting snugly with her thin figure, but the style…eh, whatever. She can probably buy a Gardevite in town. She had a feeling she’d be able to find it there. A mere trinket decoration really, it would have no use with her.
Pulling dark stockings on, she walked out, dainty feet making dainty steps, down the stairs and out the front door. She was a little disappointed to see that her stockings were barely
higher than her knee-high boots. It looked like she’d have quite some shopping to do in Lilycove soon. Whenever she had time.
Who was she kidding, she always
Clucking her tongue gently, she left her home to be automatically locked. A soft click
did all the work.
The town of Qiren was a mildly colourful blur as she walked into the hotel lobby, took the elevator, and entered the bar. And there
was the man she wanted to see, standing upright with a new look of his own. “Finally discarded the water-type theme, Yo-she?~”
She gave him a once over, partially curious as to why he was wearing a forest-green suit. Surely the rather red-brownish colour scheme of the hotel did not need such a blatant colour contrast from him. Spotting a pair of half-shimmering wings behind him, she decided to not ask, and let him have his secret Scyther form to himself.
Her fellow Ditto raised his head for a moment, and let out a scoff, “Hello sister.”
“Now now, can’t you say you’ve missed me? I’ve left you all alone
these past couple months~” She walked up to the bar stools, having little difficulty in getting herself up and seated on one. Mario clambered up on the seat beside her, mewling for attention from the bartender as well. “Can’t a girl get a word of gratitude around here?~”
“I see no such figure.” His hands, previously holding an old wash cloth and a Collins glass, put away both to take out several different bottles. A bottle of Scotch, brown sherry, lemon juice, grenadine, dark rum, white rum, lime juice, passion fruit juice, pineapple juice, orange juice, and blackcurrant syrup. The Collins glass was replaced by a cocktail and highball glass respectively. “All I see is one Mega Gardevoir looking for someone to tell her little secrets to.”
“Now what secrets could I have for you today, dear brother?” She eyed each ingredient, watching as he shook together something… “Artists’ Special
? Now who’s that for?~”
, of course.” She could almost hear the smug undertone. “You never liked tropical fruits, Blue.” Poured into the cocktail glass, he garnished it with half a slice of twisted lemon. Pretty, but not to her tastes.
“And the other?” Aoi took in a breath, trying to see if she could smell the next cocktail he was mixing. “There’s rum in that. Isn’t it a favourite of papa’s?”
Beside her, Mario was having a staring contest with something. She assumed it was her brother’s feline, the Purrloin. She would never quite understand why it came to the bar, of all places. However, she could understand the draw. Looking back to the shaker and the bartender, she watched as he created another alcoholic masterpiece. She hesitated slightly, but allowed herself the brief glimpse of a past memory.
“The alcohol base of a Hurricane is made with dark and white rum. The non-alcoholic components are various fruit juices: lime, passion fruit, pineapple, and orange.” The Milotic paused a moment, eyes cast downwards towards his young pupil. “Boy, don’t touch that.”
Her brother, hah, how young was he then? Probably ten or something. Had shrunk away from away from a container with a tall, thin long neck. Her beautiful self? She was sitting on the bar stools, watching the bartender at his work. He mixed everything together in the shaker, it was of two pieces—or so the man claimed. She wouldn’t dare try to find out for herself, mother would be so cross with her.
“Can you read me the label, boy?
“Er--…Bl-Blackcurrant syrup?” Whatever would that be for? It was with great difficulty she refrained from mimicking the other’s confused look.
“Yes, that’s also used in the Hurricane.” With a flick of his wrist, the Milotic added the syrup, exaggerating the action with dramatic flair and a quick snap shut of the cap. “It adds to the sweetness.”
Then everything was shaken together, quickly, roughly, everything turned to mush inside of that shaker. Then, the muddled liquid—no, cocktail—was strained into a tumbler highball glass. How small—wait, there…a garnish was added. Where did those slices of fruit come from?
The Hurricane was finished with a toothpick pierced through small bites of pineapple, orange and a cherry. How fruity looking.
She had let herself drift off too far, she now saw that a near perfect replica of the drink in front of her. However… “You’re using the sword toothpicks again.”
An observation. And yet, it seemed Yoshi was not finished.
Quickly, she looked at the current ingredients set out: Plymouth gin, white crème de cacao, pineapple juice, passion fruit juice, a can of whip cream, Campari, and a pail of ice. Ice was hardly an ingredient, but she could not guess just what he was shaking now. Everything was done separately, one after another—this would take quite some time, she realized. Yet, she stayed silent, watching him work.
About a minute later, he drizzles the liqueur onto another highball glass. The tumbler was one of those “on the rocks” drinks, already half-filled with crushed ice cubes.
“Have a Mistress
Wait, he was silent throughout his work. What a day for firsts. Caught off guard by that simple fact, she threw her head back with a short, girlish giggle.
.” She took the offered drink, wrinkling her nose when she recalled the pineapple and passion fruit juice mixed in, but downed it all the same. It did not escape her notice that he drank the Hurricane
and Artists’ Special
in quick succession. “My my, are you looking to get drunk?”
“With these? Hardly.” He took out another bottle, some vodka brand. “The both of us would have to drink this straight if we even want to begin
“That sounds like a challenge, dear brother.”
“I’ll not have it.” He crossed his arms, “I drank the good stuff months ago before you came.”
“How crude of you.” She pouted, but set aside her glass. “How is that woman, that, ah…~ Was her name Vera? Or Fern? I didn’t quite catch it, with that hackney accent of hers.”
“Do you know of any other?” She watched him with her red eyes, looking for a tell-tale twitch. He might’ve been a good liar, but every poker-face held something to tell
. “She was going on about taking you to the dog-house or another, when you were disguised as a Houndoom.”
She gestured, briefly with both hands, to her own head, mimicking the rounded horns that the canine Pokémon had.
“Surely you didn’t forget? I tried to join in your little impromptu skit!~” For a moment, she contemplated a break in her Gardevoir look and change into that Ninetales get up…alas, the Lolita dress she wore really was
an object of physical material and not her own skin. She’d rather not rip it so she could ‘grow’ nine tails. How ugly. “As an aristocratic Ninetales, don’t you remember?~”
“I can’t say I’ve seen you as a Ninetales, Aoi.” Finally, the use of her name, hm? “Not since you got hitched to…ah, what’s his name? Jones?—No, James
. Yes, that man. Walter James.”
She sighed, picking up Mario by the scruff of the neck and cradled him as she left her stool.
“If you aren’t going to play, this won’t be half as fun.” One step, two steps, three. “I only came to this tropical island to see you
, hadn’t I? You never write!~”
“I didn’t know you could read.” He muttered to himself, hand-washing the two tumbler and cocktail glasses.