🍳 … walking in on your muse having made them breakfast.
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🍳 … walking in on your muse having made them breakfast.
Not so much walking in on as waking up to. When Wylan slept in after crashing on Fei’s couch for the night (morning?) he was expecting an impatient wait for him to continue on his merry way. That was, after all, what Wylan had mentioned when he showed up at some crazy hour in the morning. Like what, 4? Gross. Instead he smells syrup and hears the unmistakable sound of a frying pan going to town on something. Pancakes? Toast? Eggs? Who knows. But it smells good and Wylan is definitely feeling the hunger pangs after not eating anything in like at least a day.
Because who pays for airline food?
He sits himself up from the couch, probably looking like a total mess. Hair? Lets not talk about it. It’s bad enough normally as it is but still presentable enough in this case as he makes his way into the kitchen. Confirmed. Syrup and pancakes. Shame there weren’t any eggs though. But pancakes were easier.
“I didn’t realize the Kafei Couch came with complimentary breakfast service.” He observes, reaching out to just grab a pancake from the stack (what the fuck man). Kafei slowly (but firmly) pushes his hand away with the spatula, fixing the other with a stern glance.
“It doesn’t, actually. You can have some, but by doing so you’re agreeing to help me out with a few things.”
imtwentyfuckingfour has breathed so much life into a relatively minor character, it's amazing! Excellent writing, A+ mun, and a great batch of ideas about Kafei and Termina. A must-follow!
Rain pattered down on the metal roof of the Pokemon Center, a testament for yet another dreary day. Virgil had never been to a place that rained so much, but then he- unknowingly- stumbled upon Po Town in the dead of night during a serious downpour.
Climbing over walls to get to a Pokemon Center was probably not the best idea the young man had, but he had his excuses. The lack of lights in the building should’ve been a warning of what he was walking into, but he had been desperate and had run straight into the dilapidated building.
Right into a few members of Team Skull.
In a surprising turn of events, and despite the rumors he had heard travelling from island to island for research, these Grunts were rather chill in their half impressed that he climbed over a slippery wet wall in the dark without a second thought of trespassing, half indignant that he dared to trespass onto their turf to begin with even on accident. Virgil, with his injured and sopping wet Vulpix, hadn’t been in the mood for their showcasing and on the immediate realization that there was no nurse in the Center, he put his prior research on medical machines and procedures for a professor back in one of the other regions to work.
After he turned on the generator, that is.
“How did you turn it on dude??”
“You just flip the damned switch! Have you guys been living in the dark this entire time?”
Long story short, he dried off and patched up his Vulpix with little fanfare aside from the ogling Grunts over his shoulder and they had been too impressed with his greater skill of Pokemon healing to simply let him leave. It had gotten much more so intense when the other members, who had noticed that the Pokemon Center had both functioning lights and heat and had come to investigate.
Virgil was by no means a mechanic, and being forcibly dragged around to see if any of the other buildings had generators (the only one that had was a mansion and it was in too bad of a shape to be used properly and he had no knowledge or skill of fixing it to where it did more than dimly light the hallways) had proven that fact. A few of the Grunts were willing to try to tinker with the other generator: “It’s like building a car, yeah?”, but they were still indignant on just letting Virgil leave.
Virgil let out a long sigh, reaching up to scratch his Vulpix’s ears as the vixen slept draped over his shoulders like an exquisite scarf. In the end, between the Grunts and the Team’s leaders, he had been stuck as an impromptu healer to pay for his use of the place and trespassing (really, a group of criminals making him pay for a ‘crime’?). But there were books in the Center that hadn’t been in the library in Malie City, and some were useful for his current research in the adaptation of Kanto native Pokemon in Alola, so all in all it wasn’t too terrible. Plus the Grunts never noticed when he got tired of the rain and left to return to the Maie Library for the day on the other side of the island anyway, so it didn’t appear as if he was permanently stuck.
Then again, he’d rather not have a group of troublesome teenagers following after him if he left for another island. Or left the region entirely. He would have to come up with a plan for that once his research was completed and his papers sent in for peer review.
“Maybe just tell Valhalla and let her deal with them,” he murmured to himself, causing the sleeping Vulpix’s ears to twitch at his soft voice.
Valhalla had been a travelling companion, of a sort, from when he first set foot onto Kalos, which then followed back to Kanto and then finally to Alola. The tall, bulky woman was big, loud, and overly friendly, but she was good company. Her family lived on one of the tiny islands off of Alola’s main chain, and she had remained home with a word of “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like!” when he had left to explore the other islands. She would be more than happy to deal with Virgil’s slight problem if anything arose, but he hadn’t told her a peep about his impromptu stay in Po Town.
Or that he was acting as Team Skull’s Pokemon healer.
...What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt the others. The Team may be full of ruffians and criminals but they were almost all younger than even he was. Siccing a giant of a woman on a bunch of unruly teenagers would be cruel and unusual punishment.
Ruffling his vibrant ginger hair with a hand, Virgil leaned back in the rough and worn recliner situated near one of the large cracked windows of the Center’s foyer turning pale blue eyes to the dreary grey outside. Most of the Grunts who usually loitered about the heated Center were off elsewhere, leaving Virgil with peace- aside from the one Grunt sleeping in the far corner near the abandoned cafe stand with their Hypno sitting smugly on the counter (Virgil had scrounged up a few blankets to give to the poor teen, as this seemed to be a common occurrence and he couldn’t stand seeing the sight of him sleeping on the cold floor all the time without at least some comfort).
It was just an unusually slow day today, it seemed, but Virgil didn’t mind. As long as trouble didn’t come along with it.
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The postman forgot to deliver a few things to the Dotour household and the mistake has left him bedridden. A sort of self-induced illness that now has things jammed up around Clock Town. This after effect is besides the point. Kafei had been expecting a package, and he’s a little bit passed frustrated on waiting because it is in fact, not that often he expects things and disappointment is not another ingredient they care to add to their soup that is this week! Impatience is on the menu, however, and he makes it a point to finish up his errands early so that it would be safe (without reprimanding) to track down the package.
This frustration must not be palpable enough, as he is accosted by a traveler, someone unfamiliar, on his way to West Clock Town. They are an older gentleman, earnest in their plight and kind but, unfortunately, still a problem? Kafei isn’t feeling a chatterbox moment here. His smile is a bigger mask than the Keaton one he keeps with his personal belongings. One of the things worse than talking to strangers is them talking to someone else, mentioning him, and then word getting around to his parents. This is easily avoided if time consuming.
“Could you tell me where the Milk Bar is, boy?”
He’s already tired of the conversation and a word has yet to be spoken on his end. He tweaks his mask into a firmer smile with lifted brows, quick to point in (oh so fortunately) the opposite direction he was going. Instead of saying anything he tweaks the smile again, a silent urge to please continue and not continue this conversation.
“Do you think you might be able to walk me there..?”
“It’s not that far!” He assures quickly, still beaming that good smile. “I’m sure you will make it just fine. Thank you though!” While a bit downtrodden, the man does give a small nod to Kafei before continuing on their way. He’s not sure why they were seeking companionship. But he’s doing them a favor, really. There was a scent of an extended conversation and Kafei recognizes that he is a poor choice for this man. He will find much better company at the end of his trek anyhow.
When he reaches the Post Office, however, he is informed that someone has already been by to pick up the forgotten mail for the Dotour household. Kafei’s package is presumably with the rest. And unfortunately, this meant it was likely in the hands of his mother.
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Oh how simple it sounds at first glance. An even trade, oh yes. If you were a preschooler. Wylan looks offended, in his own wait is this serious way, the amount of put on frustration and conflict a questionable quantity as he drops his finger, tapping it on the table as he looks to his platter.
“In what world is one french fry worth the same amount as a tender? Do you not see the problem in this?” He says, accusingly, gesturing between the two baskets.
[ ☁ ] the entire city is without power due to a storm, and our muses run into each other during a supply run.
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[ ☁ ] the entire city is without power due to a storm, and our muses run into each other during a supply run.
Except Wylan is doing anything but getting things for the supply run. He knows he should be doing this, he knows that his sister is waiting at home for things from the market so that they can eat for the next few nights, but Wylan can’t help himself. The aftermath of the storm has the sky doing all kinds of weird shit with weird colors. If he were a simpler person (and he can will himself into this state as necessary) he’d presume that it was supernatural. Even if it isn’t.
Kafei finds Wylan hanging off a lamp-post, and while he may have been spinning about it like a stripper pole at one point, he was now more like the young boy hanging off the mast of the pirate ship he’s been kidnapped on but now enjoys because of Stockholm syndrome. How quaint. He even does a visor over his eyes when he spots the figure shuffling through the drenched streets.
