Ch. 71
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Claire
"Hey, they knew talent when they saw it." Master was laughing, but I was not. I'd been double teamed in the match. Eliminated, and unceremoniously dumped from the tournament. All their effort, all the work everyone had put in, and I had to be the one to ruin it. I gave as good as I got, but it wasn't good enough. An arbok would be moving forward, and I'd share a loser's regrets with an audino.
It was so frustrating I could've bit something. Wanted to. Tempest volunteered, but even her attempt at sexiness wasn't helping at the moment. The hug did, though.
Five days, we'd thrown ourselves into it, and coming up short was the most vexing, irritating feeling. I knew I hadn't let him down, hadn't let any of them down. No. It was worse. I'd let myself down. So I spent our lunch thinking about anything I could have done differently. Everything. Getting nowhere, and feeling miserable about it. Master just shrugged, when we made eye contact. His thoughts were a thousand miles away, the tournament already forgotten, the ease and comfort of a man who had been through enough of them. I tried to emulate him, but I just wasn't him.
I wondered how he did it, laughed so easily, ruffled my fur, and burrowed his nose against my neck. Moved on in a heartbeat, and tried to bring me with him. We lost. Because of me. And he was already done? Did he care at all? I knew he could be easy going about this stuff, but there had to be a limit, right?
I was actually grateful for Zorah and his trainer approaching us at the table, chairs rapidly rearranged to make room for the pair. He flashed me a toothy grin, and a thumbs up. "Nice fight!" Yeah. Right. I didn't quite roll my eyes, but I couldn't help the sigh. "No, really. You kicked ass, it's not your fault it was two on one!"
Not my fault. Sure it wasn't. How many times had I seen master take on worse odds? Lived vicariously through his memory and apparently learned nothing?
Master had caught that, glowered at me, finger and thumb beneath my jaw, drawing my gaze and commanding the attention of everyone at the table. Distress, frustration, my ears pinned to my head. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. The tournament wasn't a big deal to him, but I'd just messed up. It was enough. He'd had enough, and I'd sulked enough, and that was that.
All I could do was swallow past the ache in my chest and nod. I understood. Right, or wrong, it was done. Failed or triumphed, it was over. Time to move on. I wish it would be that easy. A little time. Maybe I just needed a little time.
Sharon
Poor thing! She was absolutely heartbroken about it. I understood. Zorah had felt much the same, he was better today, but he'd had high hopes, too. A lot of expectations for how he'd do, how far we'd get together. Setting things up for Shizuka, but it had come to naught. I knew her though, she was trying not to seem too happy to be spared the bother. Haunters and limelight didn't mix. She'd prefer lurking somewhere over my shoulder while I read books or watched scary movies.
Speaking of lurking, she'd just made some of Zorah's food disappear through the table. None the wiser, he'd continued chatting with Tempest. Chatting her up, more like. But it didn't take a woman's intuition to know she wasn't interested. In men in general, maybe, from the way she was giving her attention to Claire. Not unfriendly, exactly. Just... not engaged. Poor guy. The lopunny he'd been trying for was the worst kind of tease, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I told him so. Now he was getting overlooked by an entire table full of girls. He'd been striking out a lot lately, and that was something I actually did understand.
I could tell Shizuka was debating teasing the guy, a mostly harmless prank beneath the table, but she'd caught my eye and I waved her off. Not that she wouldn't absolutely get him later. But maybe when he wasn't eating, surrounded by his pokemon. He cleaned up nicely. Was a lot less scary when he wasn't smeared in blood. Laughed easily, smiled readily, and the only thing he'd taken any kind of exception to was his delphox sulking over it. Stifled it with a stern look and two fingers.
Kind of sexy, in a 'maybe actually a serial killer' sort of way.
Lunch was winding down for them, so I stole his attention, snagged his hand, and suggested a magic show. His pokemon looked among themselves a moment, and it seemed each had their own plans and preferred company. Nobody objected, so he was apparently mine for the day without a chance to object. Thanks for helping a girl out!
Honestly though I just wanted a chance to talk to him a bit more. Feel him out. He seemed nice. Too nice. A ruse? Some dark secret in his closet? Ooh. Maybe something grim and macabre! ... Nah, he was too honest. His face wasn't one that could keep secrets. Just the feeling I got. A friend then. Well. -If- he liked the kind of magic show we were about to go see!
Trainer
Sybil was the only one who hadn't spoken up with plans. So I knew she'd be following. Tailing us, just in case. Smart girl. I didn't have a problem with Sharon, exactly. But it was a little uncomfortable being dragged around by someone I hardly knew, good intentions or not. With everything we'd been through to end up here, I just couldn't bring myself to relax completely. The venue was on the lower decks, a smaller stage, and they were checking boarding passes, which meant, strangely enough, it was age restricted. Not too much of that on this ship.
We'd settled in a little further back, elevated from the stage. A commanding view, honestly. Not too close where we'd have to pick and choose what we were looking at, not so far away we couldn't make out the details anymore. The lights dimmed and a woman in a form fitting latex catsuit came out. I was impressed with her figure, a gymnast maybe. Certainly she worked hard and had a very restricted diet. Two machokes followed, dressed in tuxedos. Each carrying a metal hoop in one hand, and one end of a bed of nails in the other.
They set down the bed, and the woman laid down on it, with practiced ease. Taking one metal hoop in her hands, the first machoke grabbed hold of the top end, and pulled himself up, dangling the hoop he held from one foot. The other machoke began to pull himself up on that, and the spotlights swept in on her as she screamed, and sank down on the nails, enough that they strained against the front of the latex suit, a hundred little points struggling to poke through.
The audience, myself included, gasped as she struggled, choked, begged. The machokes hastily clambered off, and standing the table upright, with her still apparently pinned to it. Each taking one of her hands as if to pull her free. Her head had lolled limply against her chest, and after some rough tugging, she'd finally come free, collapsed in a heap on the floor. A nervous murmur rippled through the audience, but I'd caught on. The woman raised her arms sharply, and from her collapsed form came upright, as if a marionette dancing on strings. Awkward, jerky motions. When she turned around, the back of her catsuit looked full of holes. Places where the light didn't reflect the same way. Places where it looked as though she was bleeding. One of the machokes following behind, sweeping a hand to beckon someone from backstage, a jynx coming out to shove a mop in his hands with an exasperated look, before shoving him after the dancing woman. The red smear on the floor grew as he swept the mop back and forth, and from the sides and back of the stage a scene of blossoming flowers beneath a crimson moon grew.
The act continued, with the woman going through fire, iron maiden, being sawn in half, even a guillotine, whereupon she had sat up, headless and bleeding, picked up her own head, and talked to us. I had no idea how exactly they did it, but by the end of the show she was pinned to a spinning wheel while a bisharp hurled knives at her two and six at a time. Several of them seeming to strike her. It was gruesome. It was slightly horrifying. It was fucking awesome. Her catsuit had been all but destroyed, barely covering enough of her to be considered decent, and the act concluded with the machokes obscuring her with a thin white curtain. Lit from the back we could see that she was undressing, but she had not moved as if to redress by the time the curtain fell.
When it hit the floor she walked past it, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, and bowed to the audience, who filled the small venue with thunderous cheering and applause.
Sybil
I knew how they did it. I'd never tell, though. The girl had interesting taste, but at least she had taste. I wasn't the only one keeping an eye on things. The haunter that was following along had made herself known by midway through the act, and honestly we just let ourselves enjoy it. She was keeping an eye on him the same as I was keeping an eye on her. Fair was fair, and we were really on the same page. Just wanted to make sure our friend was being treated right. So why be enemies if our goal was the same?
The act was good, even if I did know the magician's secret. And by the end of it he was grinning, just kind of shaking his head as if wondering how they'd top one dark little trick with the next. It was fun to see him getting into it, rather than just being grossed out like the guy two rows back, who had to leave before he threw up. Some people. The next magician that came out was equally fun. Hypnotizing an audience member and having them walk across hot coals, card tricks that ended in duping volunteer audience members into an embarrassing confession, sleight of hand that saw people patting down their pockets, three rows back, and raising their hand to get their wallet back. The same general gimmick, applied differently. It was clever, and well executed. I couldn't be mad that I had figured it out. Humans were humans, and it was easy to make them see what you wanted them to see.
Mostly I was just glad he was enjoying himself. The woman had shifted a little closer in the mean time, begun to flirt with him. The obvious signs. Not quite draping herself over him, but little touches, little brushes of contact he didn't rebuff. His enjoyment of the show was apparently a mating sign for her, and by the time they walked out, it was with her arm wrapped around his. Chubby girl making sure her tits were squeezed up against his arm. Obvious where she was leading him, even if she was taking the scenic route to get there. The haunter and I just rolled our eyes, and followed along.
Their next stop was one of the quieter pools on the top deck. Obscured, and away from the ongoing party. He'd dressed light, and, shrugging his loose shirt, sat at the edge, and enjoyed the sun on his back. He'd closed his eyes, enjoyed the breeze, oblivious to the way she was looking at him from behind. Practically drooling. She wasn't the only one. A few eyes turned to his muscular frame, a hushed whisper between women, and a clear animosity as they watched the fat girl slip in behind him, run her hands all over him under the pretense of putting sunscreen on him.
She really took her time, dared a lot further than I'd have guessed from her. But what surprised me was his general lack of reaction. He didn't shrug her off, and he didn't encourage it. Just looked over his shoulder, as they talked. Movies now, as if he were the type to sit still for long. Still, he let her enthuse, and promised to watch one or two she suggested if the opportunity came up. She hadn't moved from behind him when she started on his arms, and moved to his chest and stomach. Purposeful, she knew what she was doing, and I could see the result from where I was, straining beneath the fabric now. But he made no remark of it, which only seemed to fuel her further. By the time she was done, she was the one all wound up, and he was perfectly content in the cool breeze.
The haunter laughed at the display, and looked to me with a grin from beneath a vending machine, the darkest place she could find. "She thinks she's luring him in, but it's the other way around, isn't it? He's not actually disinterested is he? Just doing it to wind her up worse?"
I shrugged, and rapped my claws against the side of the machine for a moment. "Hard to say. I don't know him that well. I know he's not the sort to turn away good company, but I don't know his type at all." I lied, as I watched the show unfold. It was impossible to guess what he'd do. He was being nice, but he was also being almost stupidly polite. She'd have let him feel her up then and there by the way she had been leaning into him, pushing those fat udders into his back. It was like watching my old trainer all over again. Desperate, and kind of sad.
I felt bad for her though. She was looking for connection, and using sex to try and get it. Even I got that. She wanted him to keep her close, even if it meant being used. That's what she was really offering. I didn't know him except for what his real friends had told me. All I could do was hope. He was a decent human, as hard as it was to believe. He wasn't going to hurt her. Not on purpose.
Arceus knew he might do it on accident, though.
Trainer
I was nothing short of relieved when Sybil came out from the shadows, and settled in next to me. I knew she was well aware I could understand her, that of the three of us, only I could. A nuzzle against my side, and then she'd crawled into my lap. Taken up the space and kept Sharon from pushing her luck any further, if only for the moment. I shrugged, as if helpless, and took Sharon's hand, glad to hold it in mine, instead of feeling her fingertips wander my bare chest.
She'd talked about movies, so I talked about music. Turned the conversation light again, returned the favor, and made sure she had sunscreen on. I didn't linger overly long, but gave as good as I got, and wasn't shy about where my hands went. She practically melted, but I had the initiative, and Sybil knew she had my thanks. From where I was it was easier to keep Sharon from pushing too much further.
She wasn't unattractive, not really. Unathletic, sure. But it wasn't like there was nothing on her to appreciate. In a selfish way, I wanted to appreciate her in every way she seemed to offer, but it was a whole host of problems that I wasn't sure could have a good ending. So when she pulled my hand back to her chest, and tried to kiss at my neck, I pulled away. "Look, I'm flattered, but there's some things you need to know." I said, running my hand over Sybil's head. "So, can we ... maybe go back to your room and talk?"
Sybil's grin was one of absolute confidence in me, a look bordering adoration. Sharon, on the other hand, visibly blanched, and, with a dejected sigh, more muttered than spoke. A single word, halfheartedly given at best. "Sure." before leading us back.
A long, quiet walk, and no longer hand in hand. She assumed the worst, and ... maybe she should have.
Sharon
What did I do wrong? He was having fun. Laughing and smiling, and he clearly loved the way I was touching him. Didn't have a problem with touching me, either. I let him enjoy himself, feel me up a little, I was ready, he seemed ready. What happened?
Those were the only thoughts I could manage as I struggled not to cry all the way back to my room. It was a mess, but so was I. I kind of... just made it to my bed and half fell over into it. I was ready to fall apart, crash and burn. Another failure in a long line of them. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Not for someone like him. What did I have to offer him that he couldn't have easily had from anyone else? He was perfect... and I was nothing. I was just nothing to him, wasn't I?
But ... he followed me, and he slipped into the bed behind me, pulled me close. I loved it. I hated it. I needed it. I cried and he held me, and he let me. Until the tears stopped, he didn't say a word, just held me close and let me. Then he kissed my forehead, and it wasn't fake, and it wasn't pity. Then he apologized, and I felt the tears welling up again. I should have been the one apologizing. I was a mess and I knew it. I just ... wanted him to look at me. Wanted someone to, maybe. He'd been so nice, so sweet. So considerate. That was the worst part. I couldn't even hate him. He wasn't into me, or whatever he was about to tell me, and it broke my heart, and it wasn't his fault.
Shizuka was there, and his weavile had followed too. Neither said a word, just stayed together, off to the side, and let us have our moment. Seemed to understand each other. The haunter was comfortable, in a way she rarely was anywhere else, and that stung too. She hated my exes. Both of them. Knew right away who they were and I was too stupid to listen. So when she'd seemed so sure she could just play with him, have fun too... she was about to lose a new friend too, because of me.
I'd have done anything to keep him. I'd have let him do anything. Even my pokemon liked him. That was the worst part. Even my goddamned pokemon liked him. And I had already managed to fuck it all up.
"I'm not sure I can be what you're looking for." He'd said, from where he was. Holding me close and shutting me out in the same breath. But he kept me from running away, and it was ... his words didn't sound like hurting me. Or at least... not in the way they had, before. "I'm not sure you'd like me, if you knew me." As if he had to worry, as if I'd change my mind. "I'm not sure you'd ever trust me again."
What was he so afraid of? Now I had to know. He was as scared as I was.
Trainer
I was terrified to say it. To admit it to her. But she needed to know. I had to have a little faith that she wouldn't immediately burn down my whole world with it. She didn't understand, the first time I said it. "You'd have to share me with my pokemon." She laughed. "Yeah, I know, they're important to you." She'd replied, and I shook my head, not that she could see it from behind her.
"No." I'd reiterated, one hand moving from where it was, wrapped around her waist, up to her breast. "I mean you'd have to share me with them." I said, giving her a meaningful squeeze, one that she moaned at before gasping as the realization caught up to her. She didn't immediately pull away, so ... so I told her the story. How it had happened. What it had meant to us. She let me talk, for hours. I told her as much as I could think of, until my voice was hoarse from talking. And when I didn't have anything left, I just let the quiet hang.
She didn't shout, she didn't slap me, she just took it all in. She didn't get mad when I brought up Wendy. What she was to me. What we were together. In the end she stayed for a little bit, still and quiet and not pushing my arms away. Ultimately she just sat up, quiet and brooding. Another long silence that lingered until she sighed and looked over her shoulder at me.
"So ... what, I'd be your side chick then? Another notch in your belt?" It wasn't quite accusatory, but it wasn't far off from that note. She was clearly hurt. At the least, I didn't think it was unfair, for all that both her pokemon and mine bristled at it.
"Why would I have told you any of that, if that's all I thought of you?" I asked in response, still laying where I was. It was comfortable enough, for all the conversation wasn't. More than that, I didn't want her to feel trapped, or chased. She didn't need me looming over her. "I just need you to understand. To know that it's not something you did wrong, I just don't think I could make you happy." I answered. "So that's why. Trust me when I say I wanted to. You're ... beautiful, and fun, and I love the dark shit you're into. I just don't think I should lie to you, or take advantage of you like that."
She seemed to deflate at that, sighed, and shook her head. "Right. That's fair. That's... just fucking great. You can see yourself out, right? I'm going to take a shower."
I could, and I did. Sybil clambering up to my shoulder as we made our way back to the late afternoon sunshine.
It had gone about as well as I could have hoped. Not quite a fiery disaster. Not quite.