Her agent’s office smells like printer ink and little else. There are stacks and stacks of files everywhere - on the desk, the windowsill, the cabinets. Sabrina herself sits wedged into the middle of the couch, a thick pile of papers on each side of her. She wrinkles her nose. “We’re switching to a new filing system,” Emile had grimaced when he escorted her in. There is a new contract to review. More paperwork to fill out. NDAs to sign. Emile tuts disapprovingly when she crosses out sections of the sheet in front of her. “If you took your acting career more seriously, I could make you a star, you know. I’m very good at my job, my dear.”
“I know.”
She spends the night in a shoddy apartment on the outskirts of town. She had to switch train lines twice and walk fifteen minutes from the station to make it to her DragonairBnB. There’s cracked tiles by the entryway and water stains in the stairwell, but with no vacant hotel rooms for miles, Sabrina’s just grateful for somewhere to sleep. The apartment is sparse but clean, and Sabrina doesn’t waste any time before getting to bed. She turns to the window, listening to the noise of the street. She can hear someone thumping around in the apartment above her. A faint trumpet tune. Sounds of conversation float through the window. The apartment is quiet. She’s in a whole new region, but this feels familiar.
Sabrina doesn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she wakes to blaring of the fire alarm. Initial confusion sets in – she hadn’t even touched the stove – until she realizes the sounds are coming from the hallway. She grabs a sweatshirt and slippers before trodding out of the apartment, blinking blearily at the flashing lights. Residents file out of different apartments in the hall, some disheveled and others visibly upset over the disturbance. “Anyone know what’s going on?” one woman asks. “Sidney on floor six was probably smoking pot again and set off the alarms,” a neighbor groans.
Sabrina steps away from the crowd of residents that forms on the sidewalk outside the building as the firetrucks arrive. She rubs at the goosebumps on her arms, grimacing at the chill. The day had been comfortably cool, but the night is unforgiving, and she hopes that the alarms will get shut off so she can hurry back inside. She notices a man with dark eyes squatting by the curb, hands loose at his side. His hair is disheveled, sticking out at odd angles. The air fogs up when he exhales.
so unfortunately i won't be active for a while – im starting my first year of uni in a couple weeks and there’s a LOT going on right now (in addition to my move 600 miles away to my college campus... fun times!)
that being said, i hope to squeeze out a few more replies before i dm the mods for a hiatus! just wanna apologize & give a heads up to my current (and future) thread partners :V
it happens like this: sabrina visits the old daycare on route 34 and finds herself staring down at an incubator. inside it is an egg, pale yellow and speckled with green spots. according to the old couple who run the center, all sabrina will need to do is carry it around everywhere and keep it in close proximity to her pokemon. and keep it intact until it hatches, but that part goes without saying.
okay, that all occurs, but it really happens like this: sabrina runs into gold right before he’s set to leave for yet another journey. she doesn’t ask why or where, doesn’t interrogate him on who or what he’s chasing down this time. instead she offers to buy him a cup of coffee.
they talk. sure, its mostly small talk, but they talk. he mentions how he’s been taking care of a pokemon egg for the past few weeks.
“it’s nice, taking care of something. almost like a kid,” he says.
sabrina blinks. of course he would say that.
it turns out that because of the nature of this journey he’s been dragged into, he won’t be able to take the egg along. sabrina raises a brow when he mentions his impending trip, but she doesn’t press him for details. “i left egbert–” (because yes, sabrina surmises, only gold would name an egg egbert) “with the old couple who run the daycare in johto,” he continues. “i hate the thought of leaving it behind. the daycare is overworked as it is, and even though i’m sure lyra’s grandparents will take care of it, it’s not really gonna help it hatch any faster.”
“i can take care of it,” sabrina offers. it’s gold’s turn to stare.
no. she doesn’t know why she offered that. maybe it was because of the creases in the corners of gold’s eyes. or the wrinkles in his shirt. something stupid like that. maybe. maybe not. who knows?
so yes. that is how sabrina ends up egg-sitting for gold while he’s off in some far off region doing who-knows-what.
egbert grows on her surprisingly quickly. taking care of an egg is surprisingly low maintenance, once she becomes accustomed to the additional weight that comes with carrying it around everywhere. embarrassingly enough, she talks to it. she takes to playing classical music on the radio in her apartment. she walks more places instead of having alakazam use teleport. she takes it to the park and keeps it in her lap while she meditates. and sure, she’s had to use her powers more than once to avoid a nasty crash or protect egbert from falling off high surfaces, but she learns.
gold checks in every week or so, when he can spare the time for a videocall. he seems pleased with egbert’s progress. personally, sabrina can’t see any difference in the egg from when she first picked it up at the daycare, but maybe its a hatcher thing. like taking care of egbert, the weekly calls from gold grow on her. he’s witty and he makes her laugh and the calls helps branch the distance of their previous polite acquaintanceship.
“i had to leave home for a job,” he tells sabrina months later. (they are now the sort of friends close enough to have this discussion.) “the league called in a favor so i couldn’t really turn it down, but i’m due back for a week-long break before i have to head out again.”
“you should come visit us,” sabrina grins crookedly. she holds up egbert to the camera of her laptop.
Perception has always guided Shauntal in a manner that reveres to her most indelible of curiosities. Her brief glances into the worlds beyond, although fleeting, guided in many of her past works after all. As such, places where death balances itself against the living stew of inspiration. Cemeteries, churches, morgues, hospitals: each, with their own unique proclivities, draw Shauntal and every morbid fiber of her being closer into their grasps.
sabrina must make for a sorrier sight than she’d assumed, because the offer of company catches her by surprise. “i...” she falters, ready to turn down the woman’s suggestion before caving. “sure,” she shrugs haphazardly, “but give me a moment to go to the restroom. i’ll be right back.”
she uses the brief respite as a chance to gather her thoughts. inside the restroom, she stares at her reflection. her hair is rumpled slightly and she looks tired and out of place in her formal blouse. there’s a sort of dissonance between the image staring back at her and her inner state of mind– she looks sad, which doesn't jibe well because she doesn’t feel anything close to it. worn out, maybe. the thought of returning home to her bed sounds appealing, but sabrina doesn't anticipate any crying or somber reflection in her future. she mentally boxes away the observation for later, hastily washing her face and brushing through her hair with her fingers before making an exit.
she approaches the woman dutifully reading in the chair, clearing her throat to signify her arrival. she hadn’t taken too close of a look at her companion earlier, but now that she’s paying attention, something about the woman strikes her as familiar. “is there any chance you work with the league?” she asks bluntly, feeling too spent to bother with niceties. who is she kidding though; even when she's at 100%, sabrina doesn’t concern herself with frivolities. “you seem familiar,” she adds as an afterthought as she allows her companion to lead the way to the cafeteria.
Today has been a rather productive day. They had an order for a tall cake for a function of sorts, where the customer requested for bright colors and flowery accents. This is where Antonio got to do one of his favorite parts of cake decorating; the delicate piping that lined each layer, showcasing one of the few talents that he has. Making the fondant flowers had also been an enjoyable time, and soon he follows after Britney to the front of the shop, cake proudly in display.
sabrina contemplates whether to explain herself to the baker, who had skillfully avoided her line of sight since their – ahem... moment. it’s not a conversation that she was expecting to have when she had ordered her coffee twenty minutes ago. she’s usually more reticent when it comes to displaying her powers; this cake incident was a slip up, and now she’d probably have to relocate her work to the closest staryubucks. she grimaces at the thought – based on personal experience, chain coffeeshops were usually crowded and loud, more suited for when you were on the move and could escape the premises the second some overworked barista handed you your order. the thought of stained countertops and obnoxious customers causing scenes at the counter makes her cringe. she berates herself mentally as she begins the arduous process of gathering her papers and clearing her workspace, hastily draining what’s left of her latte.
she’s so thoroughly engrossed in her task that when the man from earlier returns, she doesn’t notice until a plate of cookies is being placed on her table. “i didn’t order-” she starts, but he interrupts her with a stutter.
sabrina watches, bug-eyed, as he stumbles through his explanation, although her gaze narrows at the last bit. is she really that intimidating, she wonders, staring at the baker so thoroughly reduced to nerves.
wow.
it takes a lot of willpower to avoid cackling out loud, but she can’t help but let out an uncharacteristic snort. the poor baker looks mortified, but that somehow makes the whole situation funnier.
it takes her a moment to recover, and even then, her eyes remain crinkled. “i’m sorry,” she manages, her mouth stretched in a crooked grin. “did you think i was going to hurt you?” sabrina can recognize the scene for its humor, but distantly, a part of her is disappointed. she quickly squashes down the odd twist in her gut and gives the baker a quick once-over. “i appreciate the effort, though. cookies make for a good bribe.”
Violet can’t help but smile to herself as she sidles into homeroom twenty minutes late, like she’s just a normal student today–not Lumiose Academy’s longest-tenured junior and soon-to-be dropout. Despite her tardiness, the fact that Violet is actually present for class at all–her first attendance months deep into the semester–is a feat in itself. The Kalosian weather outside has turned frosty, mirroring the cautious morning, Violet that falls from the bewildered teacher’s lips. Students brace themselves for impact, but the delinquent doesn’t even hear the instructor, her gleaming grey eyes locked on to a brand-new sight. The smile widens on her lips.
There’s someone sitting in her seat. Well, one of her seats.
Keep reading
having lived under the scrutiny of a sharp-eyed father for the better half of her seventeen years, sabrina knows exactly how to avoid unnecessary attention. the girl who saunters into the classroom – twenty minutes after the late bell – seems keen on doing the exact opposite. sabrina focuses one half lidded eye in the newcomer’s direction for a split second before returning her gaze to her classmate seated in front of her. she’s the only person in the room not openly gawking at the recent arrival, although she tunes into the not-so-subtle whispers of her classmates, the gossiping filling in the blanks. sabrina knows that there likely isn’t much truth to the rumors that her peers seem so intent on sharing, and she doesn't care, not really. violet, as the teacher called her, is just another nameless classmate that she’ll probably forget within the week.
she’s nearly zoned out again, distantly aware of the new presence in the seat behind her but not at all bothered. despite whatever reputation this girl has made for herself, sabrina isn’t interested.
the metal basket beneath her seat creaks as violet braces heavy combat boots against it. sabrina’s forehead wrinkles in annoyance, and she raises an unimpressed brow when the other girl informs her of her faux pas. stealing one’s unassigned-assigned-seat is bad taste, but sabrina wordlessly turns and nods to at least four empty seats in the near vicinity – lumiose didn’t pride themselves on their small class sizes for nothing.
eager to end this interaction, riveting as it seems to be to her nosy classmates, sabrina turns back to face the board—
and is promptly jostled as violet shoves her seat forward. her bag flies to the floor, and sabrina whips her head around with a nasty glare. her patience is wavering, although she’s acutely aware of all the eyes on the two of them. violet seems bent on making a scene, and sabrina weighs her options: either she takes the bait and loses her relative anonymity, or she could back down – at the expense of her ego. the teacher seems too flustered to do anything, although sabrina would sooner acquiesce to violet’s demands than allow someone else to intervene on her behalf.
god, this is so middle school. it’s easier to avoid confrontation, and moving her seat doesn’t take that much effort. violet seems like the type to start fistfights in the classroom, and temper aside, sabrina adamantly refuses to reduce herself to that level. she reaches for her fallen bag, grabbing the few books from the floor. after receiving a pointed look in his direction, her jumpy seat-mate quickly hands back anything that had remained out of arms reach – no way in hell is she leaving her seat to pick up her stuff.
she needs to keep her head down. she’s been well-behaved for the better half of the semester; she should keep quiet, the finish line is in sight...
“or what? are you gonna start a pissing contest to stake your claim?” she asks, voice level.
➤ TEXT 8:39 am[ sabrina ] hey srry but im gnna have 2 cancel breakfast plans 2day[ sabrina ] woke up feeling like shit[ sabrina ] i think i have a fever
sabrina sends the text feeling genuinely regretful, because saturday morning breakfasts with erika have been a habit for as long as she can remember — she doesn’t think she’s missed one ever. she doesn’t think about it for too long though; her head is stuffy and steadily pounding. she leave her bed only to draw down the curtains, the darkness providing some semblance of relief. she’s just about to roll over, mind set on hopefully sleeping off whatever she’s contacted, when her smartphone bzzes with a new notification. blearily, she checks the screen, wincing before turning down the brightness.
➤ TEXT 8:40 am[ erika ] i’m sorry to hear that![ erika ] i can come by your house later with lunch if you’d like. i’ll be in the area anyway. :)
sabrina texts her a thumbs up and a thank you, hastily informing her to come by whenever and to let herself in. she tosses her phone somewhere in the recesses of her bed and eagerly burrows herself underneath her comforter.
sabrina wakes up around three hours later, feeling worse for wear. after using the bathroom and pulling on a sweatshirt and a pair of wool socks (god, why is it so cold!), she checks her phone to see an hour-old voicemail from erika. she returns to bed with her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, her friend’s gentle voice informing her that she’ll be bringing soup from one of the local cafés after she finishes some errands, a soft i’ll see you soon and let me know what flavor tea you want me to bring back. the voicemail leaves sabrina’s heart racing, and she feels important and pampered — she sends a brief response and shuts her eyes to savor the feeling.
➤ TEXT 11:52 am[ sabrina ] honey
she’s ready to doze off again when she feels her phone vibrate once, then two, three times.
➤ TEXT 11:53 am[ erika ] yes dear, what’s up?
➤ TEXT 11:58 am[ erika ] OH.
➤ TEXT 11:58 am[ erika ] just realized you were saying what flavor you wanted. not addressing me.
this time, the growing flush on sabrina’s cheeks is definitely not from her fever.
