Time is never time at all
You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel
Believe, believe in me, believe
Compared to the temperate climate of Kalos, Unova was a definite shock. Especially in the Summer. Surrounded by a swarm of bodies that clamored in a language foreign to his ears, he dredged along, desperately seeking out refuge from the merciless sun. Ever since he had arrived in Driftveil, there was nary a cloud in the sky, rendering the atmosphere positively unbearable. The teen, who generally embraced the layered look, fanned himself fervently with a brochure he’d picked up from one of the city’s several vendors. Large, ostentatious sunglasses shielding his face, he had long ago discarded a navy flannel and was now clad in a black tee that clung to his thin frame, damp with perspiration. For someone that highly valued his appearance, he felt positively abhorrent, but continued nonetheless, his strides markedly hurried compared to his typical, languid gait.
“Just a bit longer, Tou’. There’s gotta be something around here,” he murmured aloud, his height allowing him to peer over the swarm of patrons as he held tight to the bundle wrapped in the discarded shirt. A nearly indistinguishable mew sounded in response to his words, the tiny black nose of a Meowstic poking out to peer up at its trainer. Looking down, a frown immediately manifested on the brunette’s face. The creature, whose wide, unblinking eyes typically held a vibrant curiosity, now appeared absolutely sullen, its emerald gaze lowered in a sickly fashion. He could feel the heat emanating from the psychic type, yet kept the shirt wrapped around its small frame, hoping that its own sweat may help cool it down.
Silently scolding himself for thinking that the feline could adapt so easily from one climate to the next, he stopped momentarily, feeling fatigued himself. The sun seemed to rise off the pavement in waves, causing images of the marketplace and its colorful array of booths to distort in a nauseating pattern. He had to act fast. The duo was in quite the predicament, as the local Pokemon Center was at maximum capacity due to similar cases of heat related illness. Usually he’d go for more orthodox remedies, but desperate times called for desperate measures…
Eyes focusing on a more modest looking booth, he squinted, noting the various iridescent stones and oddities on display. About to dismiss it as yet another trinket kiosk, he faltered at a sign advertising natural remedies. Realizing what it said, he immediately hurried over in swift desperation, extending the cat for the girl behind the counter to observe.
“Pardon, but I saw your sign. I know it’s a weird request, but do you have anything for heat? I’m desperate,” he claimed, lowering his glasses so that his earnestness was better perceived. “We don’t, uh, get heat like this where I’m from, so I’m kinda at a loss,” he explained. It was always uncomfortable for Calem to ask for assistance, the trainer honing a special case of impenetrable, stubborn pride. But if it came down to it, he’d take any sort of discomfort in exchange for his companion’s well being.
It was no surprise that Serena had opted to make her own costume, and no surprise that she had perhaps taken on too much. The keen eye for detail, was something she was known for. Anonymity was what she was aiming for, so she had to tone down her original plan. To have anything that was more than a costume, was a dead give away. For a short moment, she considered the cheap Nurse Joy, or Officer Jenny get up.
Vetoed.
Squeezing into a corset was the worst part of the whole costume, yet it was the first thing she decided on. The rest came to her in the moment, and thus gave birth to the best costume she had ever made. She figured that was the one thing that Lysandre did, that benefited her.
If his fumbling words appeared rife with cracks in their confidence, that small giggle immediately sealed every crevice. It was a foreign, musical sound, not akin to the usual eyerolls or slaps on the arm that his charms usually afforded. A crooked, impish grin slowly grew upon his boyish features, dark eyes focused on the girl in crimson as she explained her reasons for choosing her unusual muse.
“Completely fierce? I’ll be sure to watch my back, then,” he responded, punctuating his words with a swift, nearly indistinguishable wink from behind the iridescent mask. “I can appreciate it, though. Yveltal suits you.”
He rocked back on his heels at her question, one hand placed casually in the pocket of the outfit’s navy slacks as he considered a safe answer, eyes fastened on the ceiling where lights cast wild and kaleidoscopic patterns. His initial instinct was to offer a dismissive and nonchalant answer, as was typically his style. He never enjoyed the feeling of being vulnerable, and therefore always ended up being the listening ear. However, glancing around the room and taking in the sea of anonymous faces and feeling the music that reverberated powerfully off the walls into his chest, he suddenly didn’t feel the need. Perhaps it was the wine already speaking, but the stranger before him was the first opportunity he’d had in a while to stop pretending.
“Yeah, I try to never stay in one place for long,” he began, looking back down at the blonde. “I’ve been in northern Sinnoh for the past few months, and honestly I had no reason to be,” he shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “It’s just weird to me, everyone wants to be here in Lumiose. You go anywhere else, they’re obsessed with this city, the lights, the Tower.” Looking away for a moment, he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. But there’s so much more out there. Yeah, you don’t have the best coffee in the world or high end boutiques, but you trade those for mountains and the ocean as far as you can see.” He looked back at her, appearing earnest. “But it’s easy to feel trapped here sometimes, you can’t help but stay. Especially when everyone’s telling you it’s the center of the world.”
Realizing that he’d gone off on somewhat of a tangent, he smiled sheepishly, pushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s your story? Kinda strange to see a girl like you here all alone.”
( ✉ → sms ) no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. BUT WAIT THERES MORE from serena
Having almost scaled to the second story of an upper class, inner city apartment that was nearly the opposite of his makeshift one bedroom, he threw a single pebble at a window shrouded in taffeta curtains. A golden light emanated from within, giving him some modicum of hope that his venture wasn’t in vain.[ To: Neighbor ] knock knock [ To: Neighbor ] pls open ur window [ To: Neighbor ] i don’t rly want the cops called again[ To: Neighbor ] i’ll be ur listening ear for as long as u’ll have me [ To: Neighbor ] I’ll even let u lean on my shoulder[ To: Neighbor ] u kno since ur so in love with me (¬‿¬)
( ✉ → sms ) even when i’m durnk ic ant sotp thinking about oyu from serena
It was midnight on a Saturday; not particularly late for a city that never slept. Regardless, the soul crushing pressure of an unknown future weighed on him particularly hard that night, as it tended to do. He wasn’t out and about the streets, distracting himself with whatever strange new hobby piqued his interest. No, instead he sat by a window, peering down upon the streets below as night washed over the metropolis. A pair of headphones covered his ears, obscuring any intrusive thoughts as he lost himself in the cacophony. The music was so loud, in fact, that he wouldn’t have noticed a vibration had the phone not been perched on the sill. Picking it up with initial disinterest, his pulse quickened as he read the name on the screen.
“Must be bored,” he muttered, opening it. He was not at all prepared for the content of the message.
Taking a deep breath, he began to tentatively type back. Something was up. The true antithesis to himself, Serena was so responsible; this was unlike her.
[ To: Neighbor ] so uh[ To: Neighbor ] as much as i want to totally blackmail u with this later[ To: Neighbor ] are u ok?[ To: Neighbor ] is it ur dad again?[ To: Neighbor ] he already doesn’t like me so I’m definitely not opposed to kicking his ass[ To: Neighbor ] see u soon
( ✉ → sms ) i dropped my pzziza o nt eh floror im fuckgin pissed - from vee
He was perched upon a hand-me-down recliner, leaned forward intently as the contestants on The Great Kalosian Bake Off were about to submit their polished versions of éclairs au chocolat. It was down to two contestants: the underdog chef Jean posed against the trust fund prodigy Emilie, posed in a sudden death of culinary prestige. Gripping the poor Meowstic that squirmed in his arms, he narrowed his eyes as a judge mulled over Emilie’s concoction.“Oh, come on! Her frosting was so bland and unoriginal! We all know who the real winner should be!” he protested, clearly offended.
Just then, his cell phone buzzed conspicuously on the table beside him. Eyes shifting wildly, he glanced down and picked it up in a flurry. “This better be important.”
And it was. A true tragedy, delivered for him to answer by the culinary gods themselves. Regardless of the fact that he had no idea who the stranger was, he typed hurriedly. This was a life or death situation.
✉️ [ To: ???? ] im cryin ✉️ [ To: ???? ] quick what’s ur address✉️ [ To: ???? ] i will make u the best goddamn pizza u’ve ever tasted✉️ [ To: ???? ] my whole life has come to this ಥ_ಥ
The anonymity afforded by large crowds was always enjoyable; a peculiar combination of comforting and enticing. Perhaps that’s what always drew him back to the famed City of Light: the hustle and bustle, the outstanding abundance of things to do and people to meet. Above all, however, he enjoyed how few knew his name or recognized his face. The fifteen minutes of fame that had come along with his brief championship had made him somewhat of a celebrity in sleepy Vaniville, but here he was just another face in the crowd. No one looked up to him with stifling expectations or delusions of grandeur. He was free to do as he pleased, to feel once again like he had some agency over his own life. And in a way, it was terrifying.
That particular night he had found himself in the outskirts of the downtown area, where centuries old buildings created an eccentric labyrinth of decorative facades and hazy yellow light. It was a risky venture, heading into the area that was notorious for ruffians and nondescript alleyways. But for the past several months he’d felt particularly reckless, as though nothing he could do or say would yield any consequence. Call it stupidity or young courage; whatever the case was, he cared not. Meandering through the cobblestone streets at the late hour, he looked surprisingly at ease, azure eyes narrowed coolly as the voices of other night owls rose into the night. A crisp breeze caressed the city in a telltale sign of the changing seasons, coaxing a cover of grey clouds to shroud the yellow moon in shadow. Noticing the sudden change in lighting, he glanced up briefly, a half smile tugging at one corner of his lips. It had always been his favorite season, and it had arrived exactly on time.
As reverberations of music and the distinct aroma of alcohol filled the air, he paused. This had to be it. Turning suddenly to enter an inconspicuous door, he blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of light. As if remembering something, he paused and reached to retrieve a mask from beneath his arm. Fastening it carefully around his head, he adjusted it slightly, catching sight of the iridescent rays that were thrown from its surface in a nearby mirror. It had obviously been meticulously constructed, the mosaic of reflective jewels meant to mimic the antlers belonging to the legendary Pokemon of life. Though he’d never do it justice, he decided to pay homage to it regardless, as though by association standing before the behemoth would gradually render itself less of a nightmarish memory.
Always one for flair, the rest of the brunette’s ensemble consisted of an elaborate black and blue suit, drawing inspiration from the royal uniforms of long past Kalosian royalty. The coattails framed his tall, lithe figure, and for once in a long while, he turned ever so slightly in the mirror, feeling truly confident. Sure, it was a bit overboard for a run of the mill costume party in the nightlife district, but he was never one for half-assing anything, especially when it came to style.
Proceeding further into the venue, he immediately headed to the bar and secured a glass of wine, sipping generously at it as he surveyed the rest of the patrons. Though Calem was far from shy, he was considered more or less a “baby” among these people. After all, at nineteen years of age, he had only just secured his right to drink publicly. After regarding the other costumed partiers - some with judgment, others with silent praise, he sauntered out onto the floor, finding refuge in a song that was much more lowkey than the previous electronic one.
And that’s when something peculiar caught his eye.
Some several feet away, another lingered at the edge of the dance floor, clad in a striking dress that bore an undeniable resemblance to the god of destruction, Yveltal. Looking incredulous, he was unable to hide his shock as his eyes took in every careful detail of the gown, from the distinct scarlet hue to the sprawling, symmetric black markings. There was no doubt; whoever had created it had an incredible eye. Feeling immensely intrigued and amused by the coincidence, he wandered over, but not before securing another glass of wine. After all, even though he was arrogant, didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman.
“Looking at your costume, I would’ve thought you’d seen it for yourself,”
he began, referencing the deathly avian as he came up next to the stranger. Stumbling over his own words, he silently scolded himself. The entire point of this event was to enjoy the mystery of it all, and here he was dropping the truth bomb that he’d seen a legendary creature up close and personal.
“Y’know, from pictures. It’s pretty damn accurate.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. Why was his confidence suddenly failing him?
“You know what, I’m bad at this. You might need this,” he conceded with a self depreciative smirk as he offered the other class of crimson liquid. As the hazy lights of the venue fell upon the stranger, he caught a glimpse of her eyes from behind the intricate red and black mask. Bright blue in hue, they struck an uncomfortable chord, causing his heart to flip in his chest. Paired with the waves of flaxen hair that fell around her shoulders, there was a disconcerting sense of familiarity, conjuring thoughts of someone he hadn’t thought of in quite some time.
Feeling guilty for attributing this stranger to someone she probably didn’t know, he snapped out his reverie, looking for some way to redeem the conversation.
“Sorry, was kind of out of it for a sec there. I just got back to the city after a few months, so it’s been a pretty weird day.” Looking at the other and having to remind himself some people just simply looked alike, he appeared curious. “So, what brings you here? And why Yveltal? I feel like we’re sworn enemies now, but I promise to be civil,” he concluded with a grin.
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