#a valencian detour

[professor-amaryllis]

:{ [Query:] What is the required amount of hours of sleep for an adult human? I am beginning to suspect this behavior is unusual. ':3 }:

[sneasedtomeetyou]

Notes app rendition of how it felt trying to sleep last night in a room full of Oddish

[corkycare]

[A video file is attached. Press play?]

The video starts with a blinding flash of fiery orange, bright enough to leave an afterimage on your eye should you look directly at it. If the viewer is clever and in possession of all of the necessary context, they may piece together that this recording was started at a distance, by a certain fire and psychic type. The fact that the recording is being taken on a phone which is currently pointing directly up at the ceiling certainly seems to suggest it is not being held up by anyone currently, at least.

The majority of the video is, in fact, just the dark, unremarkable ceiling of the yanmegacopter. There are only a precious few details that can be seen other then this; names, the back of a chair that is currently swiveled around to face backwards, and half the face of one Lauwittoni. The right half, to be specific. Her face is pale, almost sunken looking, with deep bags under her eyes and a tightness around the brow that suggests that the conversation currently happening in the copter is wearing down her already paper-thin patience.

“Aw, pauvre puce, you have no stomach for teleportation, huh?” We hear Corky’s voice coming from the chair that is currently swiveled around. Someone says something inaudible off screen that makes her laugh. “Of course, petite puce, I’ll save the babying for when we land then.”

"Not now, Rakurai? I'd figured you'd have had more urgency."

"I'm just trying to spare the poor thing’s dignity over here. Like a gentleman, not that you'd know much about that."

"I just didn't know that you would wait so long." Amy spoke flatly. Even with all the venom in their words, there seems to be some underlying energy behind their voices that sounds…playful?

“I gotta make sure you lot have some semblance of patience. Good things come to those who wait. And also look how it turned out last time I threw down with someone with zero patience.” The sound shifts subtly, seemingly Corky leaned back closer to the camera, to the front where Lauwi is sitting, to say this.

Something shifts in Lauwi’s face. Suddenly, the exhaustion and annoyance melt away into an expression of distant bliss. She has a serene smile on her face as her gaze shifts down, and she slowly slides out of frame as the phone slides forward. Our view shifts, and now instead of seeing the ceiling, it seems the phone has slid across the dashboard and is now directly against the window. And all we can see through that window is the rapidly approaching ground.

The rest of the occupants, now somewhat more difficult to hear through the sound of the roaring engines, erupt in a chorus of concern and confusion. They each pose their questions calmly and politely, one at a time, like so;

“What the fuck-” “ARE YOU DOING THIS ON PURP-” “Lauwi I know you’re stressed but this isn’t-” “OSTIE DE CRISSE DE TABARNAK YOU STUPID BITCH WHAT ARE YOU DO-” “I’m going to hurl.”

None of this seems to have much of an effect on Lauwi, however, as the only thing the viewer can see (the ground) continues approaching the copter at a speed typically considered inadvisable for a safe landing.

“Lauwi for fuck’s sake,” Corky’s voice is much closer now, it seems she must have clambered back into the front seat properly. “This isn’t how it works, there are other people here! We’re the only ones that are supposed to go down like this.”

The sound of the engines shift, and our view is thrown into chaos as the sudden change in direction launches the phone off the dashboard entirely. The feed becomes a blur, spinning around the inside of the yanmegacopter much too quickly to be able to make any details out, the sound clipping repeatedly as the microphone is bumped into various surfaces. Finally, the view settles into darkness, and the noise of the engine cuts off into a suffocating silence. The sound of a door opening and then slamming can be heard.

The phone is picked up, and again the view swings around the copter. Professor Amaryllis, Casi, and Sneaks seem to have managed to stay in their seats thanks to the life-saving powers of the humble seatbelt, but when the view settles pointed at the front we get a quick look at Lauwi running off outside the copter and Corky’s notably empty seat. Corky, apparently now at the back of the copter and holding onto the phone, is the last thing we hear before the feed cuts off.

“Osti de crisse, was that fucking recording?”

[professor-amaryllis]

#this is the professor's white hellgar to me

She's not mine.

//original meme

[rabbitcruiser]

Cabanes, Spain (No. 6)

The Prado de Cabanes-Torreblanca Natural Park (in Valencian Parc Natural del Prat de Cabanes-Torreblanca)is a Spanish protected natural area located in the province of Castellón, Valencian Community,which constitutes an area of wetlands of great landscape value where various species of waterfowl are housed. It has an area of 865 ha of the municipalities of Torreblanca and Cabanes.​

This place of 865 hectares was declared a natural park by the Valencian government on December 27, 1994 and is located in the region of Plana Alta. The ecological and landscape interest of this space, as well as its fragility are the reasons that have led to its conservation through the declaration of protected space.

Access to the park is by the N-340,by the detour of the Ribera de Cabanes or by the AP-7 at the height of Oropesa del Mar.

Source: Wikipedia

[cesarborjas]

“we get dark, only to shine” - chapter two

title: we get dark, only to shine verse: wgdots (2/lol) characters: Cesare Borgia, Lucrezia Borgia; Giovanni Sforza; Cesare/Lucrezia, unwilling Lucrezia/Sforza stuff that happens: Cesare keeps his promise, following his meeting with Machiavelli with a detour to Pesaro. chapters: one

CHAPTER TWO

Giovanni Sforza neither liked nor disliked his wife. Borgia though she was, Lucrezia had turned out to be nothing more than a child—simpering, frivolous, often petulant, but neither depraved, as he had feared, nor ill-tempered, as he had expected. She looked pretty and did not much trouble him; that was good enough.

He did dislike her brothers, but the elder less than the rest of the Borgias. If he had to tolerate one of them under his roof, he supposed he would rather the cardinal than the swaggering lout playing at soldier, or the degenerate Pope, or one of the mistresses.

“Cardinal Borgia," Sforza said, scowling at the stones of his courtyard. "My wife did not warn me of your arrival. If I had known—”

Borgia swung off his horse. “The impulse of the moment,” he said carelessly. “I do not mean to greatly inconvenience you.”

It took Sforza a moment to unclench his teeth, while Borgia’s manservant—presumably his manservant; he looked like something dragged from the bottom of the Tiber—dismounted as well.

“I was travelling nearby, and thought to pay my sister a visit,” Borgia went on. “I shan’t impose on you long.”

“You will find the table sparse.”

Borgia shrugged. “I am here to see Lucrezia, not the contents of your pantry. Where is she?”

“I have greater concerns,” said Sforza, “than how or where my wife fritters away her time. No doubt the servants would know.” He gestured at the castle.

Borgia’s jaw twitched.

“Micheletto,” he said.

The manservant gave a jerky bow. “I will inquire, your Eminence.” He disappeared into the stables, leading their horses.

“I hope your marriage has proved satisfactory,” Borgia said, with a thin smile. “Brother.”

“Quite,” said Sforza.

“My sister has not been overwhelmed by her new duties? She is very young.”

Borgia himself could not be more than twenty, if that. Sforza considered him through narrowed eyes. A boy, this upstart cardinal, a yapping pup—but, regrettably, Alexander’s son. He could be expected to carry tales to the Pope. Lucrezia knew better than to talk, but Sforza had not expected any of her vile tribe to land on his doorstep.

“A little, perhaps,” he replied, unbending slightly. “As you say, she is very young.”

“Perhaps I may be of service to her. But—ah, forgive me! I am taking time from your … greater concerns.” Borgia gestured at the dogs crouched around Sforza’s feet, his smile unwavering. “With your leave, my lord, I must find what has become of my manservant.”

Sforza forced himself to nod. “Your sister,” he said, “will see to your comfort.”

“I do not doubt it.”

Borgia bowed, the movement graceful, correct, and somehow just short of outright mockery, then turned on his heel and strode towards the main entrance. His retreating back was covered not in red satin, but green silks and black leather; he did not even have a tonsure. A churchman in name only. Sforza glowered after him.

This could risk everything.

“The contessa is speaking to the head cook in the kitchens,” Micheletto reported. He cleared his throat. “I took the liberty, your Eminence, of telling a maid to send for her.”

Cesare just nodded, glancing around the great hall. The rough grey stone of the walls was, if anything, uglier than the castle’s exterior, unrelieved by any ornamentation. His eyes went to the solid, serviceable doors, to the heavy staircase, to the oppressive lowness of the ceiling. What a place for Lucrezia! She should sit enthroned in splendour: brilliant colours, sunshine on marble, wide airy rooms beneath arches and painted ceilings. If the Pope insisted upon selling her to one of these Italian lordlings—since he insisted upon it—he should at least have chosen one who could maintain her in proper style.

Cesare breathed in deeply, air clear and warm in his chest. Even within these bleak walls, he felt more vital by the second, alight with anticipation and something like happiness. Not quite. If she were unhappy, he would feel her misery as his own. But she was here, his sister, walking under the same roof, skirts sweeping the same floors. Unhappy or not, he would soon be at her side, where he belonged, not longing for her with every breath.

One of the doors creaked open. He turned on his heel, seeing only a maid.

“Donata, my lord said nothing of this. I do not think—”

The voice was his sister’s, unmistakably, the timbre as familiar as the brisk tone was not. His blood thrummed.

“Lucrezia,” Cesare called out, unable to help himself.

He heard a gasp—the light thump of footsteps—saw her climb to the doorway, in her woman’s gown and woman’s hairnet still exactly Lucrezia. She stared at him, eyes wide and stunned. Then a smile curved her mouth, lit up her face, and with a strangled sound, she picked up her skirts and darted forward.

“Cesare!”

He braced himself just in time; Lucrezia unhesitatingly flung herself at him, rocking him back a step. He closed his arms about her, swinging her around, her body warm under his hands, their laughter echoing in his ears.

“Lucrezia—”

Cesare set her down, but could not quite bring himself to release his grip on her. For Lucrezia’s part, she kept her arms locked behind his neck, smiling a little tremulously up at him.

“Cesare—I had no idea—you sent not a word--”

“I wanted to surprise you, sis,” he said, leaning his head against her pale gold hair.

“You have certainly done that! I thought you in Florence,” said Lucrezia. She drew an uneven breath. “I am so, so happy you are here, brother.”

Cesare had never doubted her affection for him, nor had cause to do so. They never met each other without pleasure, whatever the circumstances—yet his trickle of unease grew.

Micheletto cleared his throat, and they parted. Lucrezia discreetly wiped her eyes.

“Donata, tell Francesca to prepare rooms for my brother and his manservant, and tell Cook that we shall be three at dinner.”

“Yes, madam,” said the maid. She cast an uncertain glance at Cesare. “And—my lord duke?”

It took him a moment to realize that she had supposed he must be Duke of Gandia. Juan! He didn’t know whether to be gratified or insulted. Lucrezia just laughed.

“My brother Cesare, Cardinal of Valencia,” she said, her proud smile taking away most of the sting. “He is a prince of the Church, no mere lord. Make sure the staff remembers it.”

“Yes, my lady.” The maid curtseyed to Cesare. “Your Eminence.”

She hurried away, and Lucrezia swept him off to a slightly less miserable room, hung with tapestries, and two paintings he recognized from her chambers in their mother’s villa. Her step was heavier than he remembered, reminding him more of himself than the Lucrezia who seemed to walk on air. When they sat near a window, the sunlight bright and unforgiving on her face, he thought she looked tired, almost brittle, her round cheeks already thinner. Cesare took her hand, turning the loose rings under his thumb.

“And how does marriage suit you, sister?”

“Oh, well enough,” said Lucrezia. She switched to Valencian. “You must tell me all the news. Papa writes very often, but you know how he is! He can take up three pages saying nothing at all. Does he think matters of state are beyond my ken even now?”

“I fear he considers many of them beyond mine,” Cesare said. “He likes his secrets, and he has reasons to be careful just now. Your husband, it is said, has a taste for intrigue.”

He watched her closely, but she only raised her brows.

“Does he? I would not have thought it,” she said.

“Then what are his pleasures?”

“Hunting,” said Lucrezia. Her lips thinned. “The marital bed.”

Cesare felt bile rise in his throat. He had preferred to avoid all thought of her unworthy husband touching her, hated the sight of her hand in Sforza’s at the wedding, much less the idea of him in her bed. He turned his head away, fingers tightening on hers, breath trembling in his chest.

“I dislike him already,” he muttered.

When he turned back, Lucrezia was smiling faintly. “I do not think he reads my letters. I hardly see him, except … who told you that he dabbles in intrigue?”

“The Vice-Chancellor mentioned it to Father.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin. “Well, Cardinal Sforza is his cousin. No doubt he knows him better than I do. Perhaps he finds some time for it between riding his horses and attending to his dogs. But why did Papa send you to Florence? I cannot think you went to listen to that friar’s sermons!”

Cesare was not fooled, but he answered readily enough. “Savonarola? I did hear him speak while I was there.”

“What is he like?”

“I can scarcely describe him,” said Cesare. “He screams and rages and all but froths at the mouth denouncing everything from the city of Rome to the Medici bank to silk, art, books. He would burn Florence to the ground, if he could.”

She shivered. “What a terrible man he must be.”

“A sort of lunatic, I think,” he said. “I even heard that you and I, with the Holy Father, have the honour of particularly affronting him—enough to be mentioned by name, at any rate.”

“You and I! What have we done?”

“Our mother bore us and our father acknowledged us,” said Cesare, shrugging. “He considers my elevation to the cardinalate an offense before God. Well, I could have told him that myself—”

“Cesare!”

“—but apparently your hair offends him nearly as much.”

Lucrezia’s hand went to her pearl-studded net. “My … hair? Has he seen it?”

“Ah, that’s reason talking, sis. No, but he had rumour of the amount of time you spend dressing it, and that was sufficient to condemn you to the fires of hell—or so Signor Machiavelli, the Florentine ambassador, told me.”

She giggled. “Oh, I see. And that was your true mission, was it not? Meeting with the ambassador?”

“You are too clever for your own good,” he said, tapping her nose.

“Not clever enough, I fear. But why did you meet with Signor Machiavelli, Cesare? Need we fear Florence now?”

“Fear? No,” he said. “Cardinal della Rovere recently paid a visit to Piero de Medici, and we suspected—”

“Intrigue?” said Lucrezia, eyes brightening.

“Exactly.” Cesare studied her face, then tipped her chin up to meet her eyes directly. “And now you must tell me of your marriage.”

She opened her mouth.

“The truth this time, Lucrezia.”

He could see the bob in her throat as she swallowed. “What makes you say that?”

“You are unhappy.” Cesare touched her cheek. “I can see it in your eyes, your face, your … you are not what you were. You walk as if the cares of the world go with you. Did you think you could hide it from me? That I would not notice?”

Lucrezia’s smile warmed, though for a long moment, she said nothing. Then:

“I did not think you would come.” Her eyes briefly flicked up to his, then down again. “Well, I did not dare hope so. And I thought you must have known what it would be. You told me that everything would be different, and Lord Sforza might not care for me.”

Cesare had felt horror before, but nothing like this. He could only stare, wide-eyed. “What?”

“You do not even remember.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I was nervous about the wedding, and you said that was natural, and I—”

“I remember,” said Cesare. He had certainly tried to forget the entire incident, to blot his sister’s lips and his sister’s body from his memory. She was a child, or had been—a girl of barely fourteen—his sister! It was his place to protect her, hold her, perhaps, but nothing more; and if he thought of her constantly, suffered through every moment of separation, it had never been like that. Yet it had been so easy, as easy as chasing her in their mother’s villa, whispering explanations at their father’s coronation, tugging her hair as a boy, as all the pieces of their lives together.

Cesare had many preoccupations. He did manage to keep the incident out of his immediate thoughts, most of the time. But there was no forgetting. He looked at his sister, flushed, looked away.

“I did not mean that you were doomed to misery, my love,” he said, “only that some things might prove difficult, and you need not blame yourself for being afraid of them.” And he had known the then-unseen Sforza would not love her as he did, but that meant nothing. Nobody could love her as he did. He turned back to her. “Has he misused you? I need details!”

Lucrezia shook her head. “I—it is … hard, that’s all. Everything here is so dull, and there is no company, no colour, nothing. I have missed you, missed everyone, even Juan. I miss Rome.” She blinked rapidly. “I do not wish to think about it any more than I must. I would keep my spirits up while you are here, and enjoy your company as long as I have it.”

“Then we shall not speak of him any more,” he said, then added, “and now that I am here, I can judge your situation for myself, anyway.”

“So you intend to stay a good while?”

He had, in fact, only intended to delay his return to the Vatican by two or three days. His note of explanation to his father had promised as much. Upon what support could the Pope depend, with him gone? The rest of the College? He might as well lay a nest of vipers in the chair of St Peter. Juan? Ha!

Cesare looked at his sister’s hopeful face. “I have no intentions,” he said, and nudged her shoulder. “I did not think that far ahead! But I may, perhaps. You can throw me off the battlements if my company grows too tiresome.”

The stiff line of her shoulders relaxed, and she grinned, familiar bright happiness falling over her face. In that moment, she was once more the Lucrezia he knew.

“I will keep it in mind,” she said. Then, with a sigh—more relieved, he thought, than exhausted—she leaned her head against his shoulder. “But I never tire of you.”

Notes

Pedantic historical/linguistic notes, whee! I didn't intend to have these, actually, but the fic has turned out to include quite a bit more than I was originally anticipating, so I'm noting the stuff that might be of interest throughout.

1) contessa: countess in Italian. I mostly use titles in English, as the show does (a little inconsistently at first, but it's generally Lady rather than Donna/Madonna and so on), but it seems to go with the Italian for wives (e.g., duchessa), so I did too.

2) She switched to Valencian: irl, Cesare and Lucrezia's native language was not Castilian Spanish but Valencian, the language spoken in their homeland of Valencia, dialectically very close to Catalan (most linguists consider them the same language). The Borgias used Valencian as a private language within the family, when they wished to avoid eavesdroppers, and on at least one occasion, apparently out of sheer excitement. 

While the show mostly avoids the multitude of linguistic complications, it does hint at the Borgias’ association with Catalan in the general morass of anti-Spanish (and especially anti-Catalan) bigotry. So I tried to carry it into the fic, with help from my friend @tulinlina, a lady and a scholar :)

[roadwatcheu]

FVET rejects that the carriers pay for the use of the highways

FVET rejects that the carriers pay for the use of the highways

EFE.- The Valencian Federation of Transport Entrepreneurs (FVET) has shown its opposition to the payment for use of highways, and the compulsory detour of trucks on the toll roads.

The president of FVET, Carlos Prades, has presented this Thursday the president of the management CEV, Salvador Navarro, the principal demands of entrepreneurs, among them the impetus to priority infrastructure.

Th…

[professor-amaryllis]

:{ A live video feed is embedded. Valencia Island, Orange Archipelago. 10/24/24 8:00 pm. }:

We are greeted with what appears to be a live feed of the security cameras placed around the Valencia Island Pokemon Lab. Several cameras have already stopped transmitting, with each remaining camera becoming increasingly altered by some manner of interference. Brief movement in view of the cameras are shown just before they cut off, as the interference appears to be trying to obscure something, or perhaps someone, from view.

After all cameras have been shut off a Porygon appears on the screen, letting out a cry before the live feed finally cuts to black.

:{ Transcription ends. }:

[professor-amaryllis]

any funny stories about bruno?

Ah, if I couldn't tell you a thousand stories about that pokemon in particular. Between his friendly disposition, bis clumsy charm, and his penchant for physical affection that would be lovely if not for his particularly toxic venom he has put me in a good handful of situations- from poisoning a junior ranger on the set of wild days to simply being underfoot at the wrong time.

As you can see, he seems to be enjoying his time back in his native range. This does bring one particular story to mind...

Now, Valencian Nidoran are, unlike the Nidorino, nearly entirely herbivorous. They use their longer horns to reach harder to access and higher value food items, like the native colburr berries pictured here. Now, Bruno was a Rehab project back at Professor Ivy's lab when I was first starting my studies there, brought in injured and quite young, and he stayed with us a number of years.

Although we attempted to keep interference to a minimum Bruno was a rather intensive case, and unfortunately seemed to have lost or simply never learned many of these necessary survival skills.

I remember the first time that we attempted to teach him to gather berries by spearing them on his horn... He was so startled by the sudden weight of the fruit on his horn (or what i assume seemed like a monster that would not let go no matter how quickly he backed up) that he panicked, tumbled backwards over himself, launched the berry across the enclosure and fled to hide in his shelter for the next three hours.

... He never quite figured it out. Even today he will simply take the berries back over to me so I can remove them for him. Some pokemon simply are not fit for the wild.

[professor-amaryllis]

You know most mareep seem to avoid the rain, I think perhaps it is the thickness of their wool, or just the sensation. Maxx has always enjoyed being out in a good thunderstorm, however. It's hardly the most unusual thing about him but it is entertaining to watch him run about on the soaked beach.

[professor-amaryllis]

:{ This post has been translated form Kantonian to Unovan using Poryphone™ translation technology and Poryphone™ speech to text }:

Fire ice and thunder will you just hold still? I know i know you don't have to bite me just stay like that a second and it will be done with! You want to look your best don't you? I'm sure you want out of this place as much as I want you gone so just let me- there. See that wasn't so bad now was it? Now you'll look all pretty and giftwrapped. hopefully he agrees.

[professor-amaryllis]

:{ A Video file is embedded. Valencia Island, Orange Archipelago. 10/24/24 9:48 am. }:

The video starts rather abruptly, thrusting us into the midst of an argument between Casi and Professor Ivy. Casi storms around the large entryway of the lab, Ivy standing still and firing back responses to whatever the researcher has shouted. Occasionally we get a glimpse of the area around them, dusty and cluttered with miscellaneous items that appear to be placed there arbitrarily, as if the lab is running out of space to hold all it contains. When the microphone is close enough to pick up the conversation we begin to hear what the cause of the argument is.

"Rose and Miairu aren't dangerous! You must know that by now! They've lived here for a decade and have never harmed anyone." His voice is hoarse. It's clear that this argument has been dragging on for some time. 

“Here I am able to rehabilitate them and prevent any damage that they may cause in the wrong hands.” Ivy remarks. “They would fare no better with Professor Amaryllis.” 

“Well they certainly aren’t improving in a place like this!” To emphasize his point, Casi kicks one of the trash bags that littered the space. The living quarters had already filled up with miscellaneous garbage after the storm, and now had begun bleeding into the entryway. “How would anyone get better here? It’s a dump!”

A strange trap door opens up near Casi’s feet and a trio of Ivy’s assistants peak out. “Could you quit stomping around up there? We’re trying to get some work done.” 

In response Casi lets out a growl of frustration and shoves her foot down onto the trap door, slamming it shut on top of them with a thunk. There's a muffled yelp from down below. 

“Professor Ginkgo you can’t start slamming doors on people!”  Ivy’s voice is cold but there's an undercurrent of anger that no guise of professionalism could possibly hide. “You expect me to believe that someone like you could do better when you can't even control your own outbursts? Do you genuinely believe that leaving two volatile pokemon in the hands of you two would be in anything but a disaster waiting to happen?”

“Casi-” The presence of Bellamy had almost entirely gone unnoticed until they spoke up, trying to get a word in between the two feuding professors and not making all that much headway. There is an energy in them that's hard to read, gripping and releasing the head of their cane and shifting their weight just slightly from heel to heel when not actively trying to put a hand on the pacing Casimir’s shoulder, to no avail. More than anything, though, they seem exhausted. The dark circles under their eyes and the heavy way they move betray the lack of sleep and overexertion they've been living with.

“They’re volatile because their needs aren’t met! Miairu isn’t causing trouble for no reason, she's a gengar, she’s sensory seeking! She’s bored!” Casi doesn’t even seem to notice Amy reaching out, turning on her heel and pacing the other direction. “And Rose isn’t playing with people’s emotions; she's struggling to maintain her own. If you put them in a proper environment and gave them the actual enrichment they need they’d get better instead of being stagnant for a decade!”

“And you believe that you are the ones to fill that need?” Ivy laughs, a dry, scoffing sound that practically radiates disdain. “Professor Amaryllis, the man that can’t even care for himself? And you, look at you. As volatile and unruly as either of those pokemon, you can not control your own emotional state and you intend on trying to control her? And what happens when Rose tampers with your emotions, pushes you past your already violent limits? Or when Miairu destroys expensive lab equipment and gets your employees hurt? No.”

The shorter man grits his teeth, taking intentional strides in Ivy’s direction. “I don’t believe you are any more qualified to decide that than either of us are. You continually blackmail my girlfriend and overwork them only to pretend that’s somehow their fault? Don’t you dare think you can talk down to me, Professor. You and I both know that I have more than enough experience in the field of caring for pokemon. Anything else is just an excuse. These pokemon do not belong to you in the first place!”

This seems to give Bellamy a pause and for the half of a breath of silence they blink and seem to almost freeze in their tracks. “...Girlfriend?” The quiet question and look of puzzlement cast towards Casimir is lost to anyone but the camera as Ivy quickly cuts them off.

“You think me unqualified, do you Casimir?” There's a moment's pause as she exhales through her nose before a thin, cold smile reaches across her face. “Then I suppose there's nothing else for it, is there. If I am not doing my due diligence, as you accuse me, and you both are so clearly woefully unequipped to care for such volatile pokemon, then it seems I must look for other avenues for their housing.” Her smile widens just slightly, her contempt barely hidden. “I’m sure there is some other facility that’s trained to handle such dangerous creatures.”

“What- No!” Amy for the first time in this video speaks up, their carefully held calm broken by the fear in their voice. “You can’t do that!”

That expression seems to set Casi off, he takes a final few steps before coming to stand directly in front of Ivy, his body still and his expression stony. The usual loud frustration gave way to something else, something much more serious, quiet, intense. “Professor Ivy, if you do that I will make the rest of your life a living hell. I can promise you that.”

Ivy’s face drops, her smile becoming something calculating and dark as she looks down on the man trying so hard to be intimidating. “Is that a threat, Casimir?”

Casi stands his ground, “Yeah. It is.” 

There's a tension, a fire between the two professors as the video cuts to black.

:{ Transcript ends. }:

[professor-amaryllis]

I'm not sure you have a choice in the matter of her being yours or not, she seems to like you a lot!

@suddenlyauntiemaya

Just because a pokemon seems... Interested in someone doesn't make it theirs. It lives on the island, I coexist with it while I'm here. Yes it seems to like to follow me and stare but whos to say that it doesn't do that with all island visitors.

[professor-amaryllis]

Are the Pokémon there very different? I'm wondering how my Bellossom and Phantump (and possible future Bellsprout) would look if they were from those islands, heh.

@suddenlyauntiemaya

Ah, yes actually, pokemon here, and especially on Valencia island in particular, tend to be quite different than their mainland counterparts. Valencia island is a (partially) artificial ecosystem, most non-flying pokemon have been brought onto the island to study environmental adaption. It's one of the longest running studies on regional and environmental adaptions and has gotten quite a bit of very interesting data over the years.

While Valencia is a no capture zone due to this I did live here for a few years while I was in school myself, and three of my pokemon originated here! They couldn't be released to the wild for various reasons and so when I left they were left in my care. Let me grab some comparison photos here...

Bruno on the left here is my Valencian Nidorino. As you can see their bright color is the first difference you'll notice, and secondly they're quite a bit smaller and chubbier than their kantonian counterparts, with longer and more flexible quills. Because of this they are not quite as fast, but are considerably more venomous, preferring to let their poison do much of the work both in predation and in battle. I actually have to carry a potent antivenom whenever I have him with me, just in case.

And here on the left is Sitrus, my Valencian bellsprout. As you can see she's a bit darker, and her stem is much woodier and less flexible as her mainland counterpart. This is because these pokemon have adapted to be arboreal and much less active on the whole. Their strong stem and air roots are well suited for gripping the bark and branches of the trees around them as they wait patiently for their prey to wander by.

there are many more examples of this adaption, bu these are the two I have most at hand, perhaps when I get home I can take a photo of Val and the rest of the oddish to show her own adaption- though admittedly it is much more apparent in her evolutions than it is in oddish themselves.

[professor-amaryllis]

:{ A Video file is embedded. Valencia Island, Orange Archipelago. 8/29/24 1:03 am. }:

There's a stillness, a weight that sits as heavy as the thick fog that creeps over the gentle waves of the moonlit sea. Even through the recording the tense atmosphere is hard to ignore, the two figures sitting on the low brick wall watch as the local lapras and lapup doze in the warm waters as if desperate to look anywhere but at each other. The smaller figure, Casi, risks a glance over, but if the gardevoir notices she does not react.

“Rose, I-” Casi falters, the sound of his own voice so loud in the silence seems to startle even himself. He shakes his head trying to focus but something seems to interrupt his train of thought, and he looks over more attentively at the pokemon beside him.

Rose makes no move to look at Casi.

“I'm here because we have to talk about this sometime and I'd prefer it to be now before you come home with us.” It’s hard to tell from where we watch whether he is trying to convince Rose or himself. “Once I have a talk with Ivy we're leaving Valencia.”

“What do you mean no?” There’s a slight incredulousness to Casi’s voice, and he turns to look at the taller pokemon that seems to be paying him no real attention. “You want to come home don't you?”

Casi flinches, something in the unheard response striking a nerve. “I'm not leaving without you. If I had any intention of doing that I would've left months ago when you wouldn't even stay in the same room as me.”

It seems whatever response that the pokemon wanted to hear, this simply wasn’t good enough. She sighs, the statue stillness broken as she turns away from him. There's a quiet moment, as if Casi is waiting on something.

“I was... scared before.” Casi doesn't seem proud of his own answer, hesitating and scratching wrist with his opposite hand. “I got in too deep and by the time I realized that much it didn't feel like there was any time left. So I panicked and left. Thought maybe leaving a note would make up for it but…”

Rose tenses, an angry tremor in her shoulders and what we can see of her expression narrows.

“It was a mistake. Leaving you like that without an explanation... And it was a mistake not going back on it once I realized that too. Then life got in the way and…” Casi’s hands ball up in his lap and his body tenses as his words shift from trying to convince to a more uncomfortable tone, every word careful, like it has to be forced from him. “Did you ever see the newspapers that came out? All the ones saying Melody died..?”

This question seems to catch Rose off guard, perhaps a nerve touched, and she blinks as she looks back at him, some small guard lowering as she finally seems interested in what he may say.

“...I thought it was too late to go back. Which was still cowardly of me. I mean that was... Three years in between that? At least. Maybe less honestly. And all the things I thought I was going back to went up in smoke the moment I got home... I lost my job. One boss had disappeared, the other suffered from some sort of..” He makes some vague gesture with his hand, as if the rolling of his wrist would conjure the Unovan word he's looking for. Eventually he seems to find it, or something close enough. “Mental breakdown I guess. Fired everybody pretty much on a whim. Left Aracelis to care for his son while he worked in Area Zero alone and then when Aracelis left it... Fell to me. For a while.”

It seemed for a short moment like perhaps Casi had broken through Rose’s defenses, but as the words tumbled from his mouth, whatever small opening that he had made slammed shut once again. As hard as it may be to read her body language, the way she shrank back into herself, arms in front of her left little to be questioned.

“I... Yeah... He's um.. The point is I didn't make the best choices and I can't take them back. I can't pretend that I did right by you or Melody or anyone and when I found out that you were still around I insisted I come along.. Because I can't fix what I did before but the least I could do was make sure you get to come home to A.. Amy. To Amy.”

Casi’s voice quiets as he stumbles over the words, and there's a sincerity as he continues.“You don't have to forgive me, but I wanted to at least see you again.”

Rose won’t look at him, but there's something sad in the way she holds herself that seems to resonate with Casi, his expression becoming more determined and his words more forceful and genuine.

“You can leave, I'm going to make sure of it. Ivy can argue all she wants but there's no justifiable reason to continue to keep you here. You and Miairu aren't dangerous and I find it hard to believe your needs are being met on Valencia if she believes that you somehow are. I'm not giving up on that even if you decide you never want to speak to me again.”

There’s a long pause, Rose staring out over the water as her hand brushes up and down her opposite arm, as if thinking.

Casi Visibly chokes up at whatever response he hears, and he has to swallow back the tears that threaten to fall. They both stare out at the fog rolling across the water for a long while before Casi manages “...I’m sorry.”

Casi looks over at Rose, reacting to some unheard statement. His words feel carefully picked, deliberate as if sorting out his own thoughts in real time. “It's hard watching someone deteriorate like that... Not knowing what to do. Not knowing if there's anything you can do... And you were just a Kirlia back then. At least for part of it.”

Rose looks down at her hands, focusing so intently on them that it almost looks as if she’s ignoring Casi, if not for his responses.

“...I really hurt her. Didn't I? I hurt you.” There's a settling tinge of disbelief in his words, and Casi seems to make no attempt to conceal from Rose that fact.”After spending so much time trying to be a part of her life I sort of assumed she'd get over me. That all the sweet talking aside she didn't... Care.”

Now it's Rose's hands that shake, her eyes that water. What walls she has been keeping up seem to crumble down as she tries desperately to hold them together. Casi takes her hand and through his own tears runs a thumb over her hand in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. His voice is weak now, a tremble running through them as he forces out the words. “I'm here now. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Rose.”

Rose makes a real audible sound for the first time since Casi joined her here, and it's almost startling how the quiet sob can sound so extremely loud in the openness of this space. She leans into Casi, folding down into the smaller figures arms as he hugs her close, gentle despite his own obvious pain. She seems so much smaller as her tears fall. It takes a few moments for their shaking breaths to settle enough to speak at all.

“I won't.” Casimir's voice is soft and broken, the words a promise of the most serious kind. “I'm not going to leave you here. No matter what it takes, we're going to bring you home.”

Rose nods weakly into his shoulder, her shuddering breaths slowly coming back under control. She makes no effort to pull away, and for a few peaceful moments all that can be heard are the quiet waves below and a soft, hummed melody.

[Transcript ends.]

// here's the full story with rose's side of the argument! Telepathy isn't recorded on video.

There's a stillness, a weight that sits as heavy as the thick fog that creeps over the gentle waves of the moonlit sea. Even through the recording the tense atmosphere is hard to ignore, the two figures sitting on the low brick wall watch as the local lapras and lapup doze in the warm waters as if desperate to look anywhere but at each other. The smaller figure, Casi, risks a glance over, but if the gardevoir notices she does not react. 

“Rose, I-” Casi falters, the sound of his own voice so loud in the silence seems to startle even himself. He shakes his head trying to focus but something seems to interrupt his train of thought, and he looks over more attentively at the pokemon beside him. 

[Why are you here?] There’s not much emotion in her ‘voice’.

Rose makes no move to look at Casi.

“I'm here because we have to talk about this sometime and I'd prefer it to be now before you come home with us.” It’s hard to tell from where we watch whether he is trying to convince Rose or himself. “Once I have a talk with Ivy we're leaving Valencia.”

[No.] Rose doesn’t move or react, but she sounds harsher, just barely.

“What do you mean no?” There’s a slight incredulousness to Casi’s voice, and he turns to look at the taller pokemon that seems to be paying him no real attention. “You want to come home don't you?” 

[Why are you here? Why bother now. You should have left again.]

Casi flinches, something in the unheard response striking a nerve. “I'm not leaving without you. If I had any intention of doing that I would've left months ago when you wouldn't even stay in the same room as me.”

[That’s not an answer.]

It seems whatever response that the pokemon wanted to hear, this simply wasn’t good enough. She sighs, the statue stillness broken as she turns away from him. There's a quiet moment, as if Casi is waiting on something.

[... Why did you leave? Why not now.]

“I was... scared before.” Casi doesn't seem proud of his own answer, hesitating and scratching wrist with his opposite hand. “I got in too deep and by the time I realized that much it didn't feel like there was any time left. So I panicked and left. Thought maybe leaving a note would make up for it but…”

[How could it?] 

Rose tenses, an angry tremor in her shoulders and what we can see of her expression narrows.

“It was a mistake. Leaving you like that without an explanation... And it was a mistake not going back on it once I realized that too. Then life got in the way and…” Casi’s hands ball up in his lap and his body tenses as his words shift from trying to convince to a more uncomfortable tone, every word careful, like it has to be forced from him. “Did you ever see the newspapers that came out? All the ones saying Melody died..?”

This question seems to catch Rose off guard, perhaps a nerve touched, and she blinks as she looks back at him, some small guard lowering as she finally seems interested in what he may say.

[Not then. Later. I didn't mean to.]

“...I thought it was too late to go back. Which was still cowardly of me. I mean that was... Three years in between that? At least. Maybe less honestly. And all the things I thought I was going back to went up in smoke the moment I got home... I lost my job. One boss had disappeared, the other suffered from some sort of..” He makes some vague gesture with his hand, as if the rolling of his wrist would conjure the Unovan word he's looking for. Eventually he seems to find it, or something close enough. “Mental breakdown I guess. Fired everybody pretty much on a whim. Left Aracelis to care for his son while he worked in Area Zero alone and then when Aracelis left it... Fell to me. For a while.”

[A…son.]

It seemed for a short moment like perhaps Casi had broken through Rose’s defenses, but as the words tumbled from his mouth, whatever small opening that he had made slammed shut once again. As hard as it may be to read her body language, the way she shrank back into herself, arms in front of her left little to be questioned. 

“I... Yeah... He's um.. The point is I didn't make the best choices and I can't take them back. I can't pretend that I did right by you or Melody or anyone and when I found out that you were still around I insisted I come along.. Because I can't fix what I did before but the least I could do was make sure you get to come home to A.. Amy. To Amy.”

Casi’s voice quiets as he stumbles over the words, and there's a sincerity as he continues.“You don't have to forgive me, but I wanted to at least see you again.”

[I can't leave. You should go back to your family.] It's not really possible for telepathy to have a volume, exactly, but if it could Casi would swear that this was quieter.

Rose won’t look at him, but there's something sad in the way she holds herself that seems to resonate with Casi, his expression becoming more determined and his words more forceful and genuine.

“You can leave, I'm going to make sure of it. Ivy can argue all she wants but there's no justifiable reason to continue to keep you here. You and Miairu aren't dangerous and I find it hard to believe your needs are being met on Valencia if she believes that you somehow are. I'm not giving up on that even if you decide you never want to speak to me again.”

There’s a long pause, Rose staring out over the water as her hand brushes up and down her opposite arm, as if thinking.

[I wish we had left too.]

Casi Visibly chokes up at whatever response he hears, and he has to swallow back the tears that threaten to fall. They both stare out at the fog rolling across the water for a long while before Casi manages “...I’m sorry.”

[She got bad, after. Quiet. She wouldn't say, but I knew. Can't hide them from me.]

Casi looks over at Rose, reacting to some unheard statement. His words feel carefully picked, deliberate as if sorting out his own thoughts in real time. “It's hard watching someone deteriorate like that... Not knowing what to do. Not knowing if there's anything you can do... And you were just a Kirlia back then. At least for part of it.” 

He was never good at hiding his surface level emotions, and he was making absolutely no attempt to conceal them right now. There was grief resting there. Older than a lot of the emotions he's been letting bubble up to the surface.

[I tried. Turned it down, made it quiet. I don't know if it helped.]

Rose looks down at her hands, focusing so intently on them that it almost looks as if she’s ignoring Casi, if not for his responses.

There's what seems like a memory here, Shared through her telepathy. The vantage point is much lower than one might expect. Aiko sits on the bare bed of an absolutely ruined room, holding something in her hands, nearly shaking with anger. Images flash here and there of the rampage that led to this, torn cloth and books scattered from desks. A kirlia's hand settles on Aiko's arm and the shaking starts to settle

“...I really hurt her. Didn't I? I hurt you.” There's a settling tinge of disbelief in his words, and Casi seems to make no attempt to conceal from Rose that fact.”After spending so much time trying to be a part of her life I sort of assumed she'd get over me. That all the sweet talking aside she didn't... Care.” 

He isn't sure what Rose can see, if anything, in his memory. It's not strictly visual to begin with. It's more focused on feelings. Snippets of things. Little interactions between Casi and the shiny Kirlia. The two of them making blackout poetry, doing puzzles, buying food, getting kicked out of the library. There was care there. Patience. Understanding.

[She didn't want... I didn't want... you to go.]

Her voice can't break, thought alone is immune to the weaknesses of the body and yet she struggles to put her sentences together, to translate her thoughts into what is not the most natural way for her to speak. Instead there is pain, loneliness, worry, anger, all spilling out all at once and nearly overwhelming to Casi's senses. Nights of empty rooms flashing by, any company never staying more than needed. Never paying them any real care. It becomes clearer that Aiko never let anyone else close enough to.

Now it's Rose's hands that shake, her eyes that water. What walls she has been keeping up seem to crumble down as she tries desperately to hold them together. Casi takes her hand and through his own tears runs a thumb over her hand in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. His voice is weak now, a tremble running through them as he forces out the words. “I'm here now. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Rose.”

Rose makes a real audible sound for the first time since Casi joined her here, and it's almost startling how the quiet sob can sound so extremely loud in the openness of this space. She leans into Casi, folding down into the smaller figures arms as he hugs her close, gentle despite his own obvious pain. She seems so much smaller as her tears fall. It takes a few moments for their shaking breaths to settle enough to speak at all.

It's a flood of both their thoughts, their pain, their grief, their memories of the closeness they had and the longing to have it back. It seems like more is being communicated non verbally than there is verbally, but Casi still makes the effort to speak those feelings out loud.

[Don't... leave. me. Don't leave. Don't leave me. Here.

Please.]

“I won't.” Casimir's voice is soft and broken, the words a promise of the most serious kind. “I'm not going to leave you here. No matter what it takes, we're going to bring you home.” 

Rose nods weakly into his shoulder, her shuddering breaths slowly coming back under control. She makes no effort to pull away, and for a few peaceful moments all that can be heard are the quiet waves below and a soft, hummed melody. 

Casi can feel the smallest doubt in the fear that already grips her that Rose seems unable or unwilling to hide in this state of openness that she so rarely allows anymore. But that pales in comparison to the longing that she feels for the comfort that Casi offers. Something she couldn't believe she would ever have again. A thank you doesn't need to be spoken when it is felt so deeply.

[sneasedtomeetyou]

(art by @professor-amaryllis)

My girlfriend and the Houndoom she claims she doesn't like. "Standoffish." I'd sooner believe you could fit a Mamoswine in a coin purse before I'd believe that.

At least she's finally resting... With the lights on and surrounded by paperwork. Wonderful.