Saccharine Sweet

     Oh, Valentine’s Day. Who could forget about the integral day of love’s fast approach! The day of expressing the bond you’ve painstakingly forged with your significant other through trials and tribulations. Through endless odds and a rollercoaster of emotions! For on this day, there’s nothing else to think about except love!

     “.......”

He's pretty much accepted that he's Camille's moral compass ( barring Cammie also deciding that things were going too far, which, y'know, she probably should in this scenario ). But things have never quite gotten this bad before. He feels a buildup in his head and doesn't quite know where to direct it -- no, he's gotta keep it in check. Though that is the unmistakable golden glow of PSI energy in his eyes.

"Camille, y -- p-please tell me it was an accident." He's trying, but his voice shakes. "Please promise me ya weren't tryin to burn Jae's house down."

     Hellion, wild child. Much like how the other had accepted that he was the other’s morals given form, Camille had accepted that she was chaos given form. If there was fun to be had, then why shouldn’t she revel in it? Here in these halls of champions and famed fighters, anything goes! It was escapism at its finest! You could turn but a corner and see the king of evil and darkness strolling about like he hadn’t threatened to kill whoever or whatever stepped in his way during the conquest of an entire kingdom. What was a little arson compared to all of that?

     Lips pulled back from a pout, mouth twitching into a sneer. A dirty sneer that made burning blue eyes sear. If she wanted the world to revolve around her, then why shouldn’t it? The world was so wild and varied, it didn’t matter how far things got when it didn’t matter in the long run. None of them mattered! Who cared?! She didn’t! And that was all that mattered! Her! She, herself, and Camille! Always was, is, and will be! 

     And...

     And there was proof standing in front of her, there in the flesh. The kindhearted boy that gave you a chance, yelling at you, howling at you. Screaming to the skies about the wrongs you did. His words, they rumbled thunder around the ears, made the heart pound against the chest like it wanted nothing more than to rupture the rib cage, bound out into freedom, and crawl to where no one could see it again. Fire had been born beneath the eyes, and she could feel the burning sting of said fire... 

...Teeth make an audible grit, shoulders jump from the skin. ...His voice shakes, eyes avert themselves immediately.

     So then do something about it. The boy that gave you kindness, was it true that you hated him as much as you wanted your heart to believe? That you needed to believe to escape the sensation of forced consequences?

     Then push him, strike him. You had bested him in matches time and time again, so now would surely be no different. Or perhaps cry and make him feel horrid for his accusations. Turn the blame on him and call him the villain, holler his betrayals for the worlds beyond to hear. The boy named Lucas hated the girl named Camille. The boy named Lucas wanted nothing to do with her. It was already set in stone, you had ruined another person’s day. Mission complete. Now put the nail in the coffin and be done with it. 

     If something bothered you, you didn’t get sad. You got even. 

     Now get even.

     “H   ”

     ...Her hanging silence was shattered by a shivering inhalation. Mouth opened to speak, yet before a single sentence could be uttered, the intake of air was splayed across the table and diced into pieces. Then, and only then, would it be tossed down a bone-dry throat for usage, causing the first moments of an ugly sob that a hand caught immediately. A resounding slap sounded as palm covered the mouth, squeezing the skin taut.

     Grip tightens about her mouth as tears trace the sides of the face, one further choked exhale muffled behind gripped lips, causing her hand to squeeze even tighter on the skin. Head whipped itself back and forth so hard the girl dared to give herself whiplash, pigtails slapping to and fro as a step backwards was taken.

    Mistakes were made.

     Good thing Jae has three water-type Pokémon, a robotic helper on stand-by, and a Peppino and a Man (somewhere on the island, lurking; terrified, probably) because all of them together would undoubtedly be the ones to save her kitchen. Gwen and Mimi, well…

     Gwen had already started backpedaling towards the doorway the moment that jet of flame sprang up from the stovetop — and she’d just about booked it when she saw the Lloid Rocket making its grand appearance, shaken like a soda can. Not the aftermath of that shake-up, mind you — no, she knew nothing particularly good would come from that, or anything else about this situation. 

     Jae, if you’re still enjoying your charcoal-textured, charcoal-flavored pancakes, well… you might have to put them down for a second. Maybe investigate the kitchen your panicked girlfriend just ran out of, before making a beeline for you. Between Gwen’s shouts (“CAMILLE’S SETTING THE KITCHEN ON FIRE—”) and that blaring alarm, not part of the recipe, going off, there’s plenty of reason to set that plate down for a second.

     Now, Mimi — she wouldn’t rush out like Gwen did.

     She just stared for a solid second. Eye open wide as could be, pupil darting from the flames, to the girl and Gyroid. Mimi’s typical problem-solving approach — chaos, destruction, letting her rage and her arm cannon guide her over all else — right, that isn’t going to work, here. She wants less chaos and destruction, actually. Least of all for Jae’s house.

     To be fair, Mimi would have also used far more heat than necessary to speed up the pancake frying process, probably messed it up in several newly discovered methods along the way, but the added firepower of the Gyroid, practically an arm-flailing flamethrower in the girl’s hands… no, you’ve gone quite a few steps higher than Mimi would have, Camille. And that’s not a sentence you hear everyday.

     [ THAT’S ENOUGH. ]

     She’s going to confiscate that Lloid Rocket. Or try to, at least. 

     Mimi has no idea how to turn that off, by the way.

     Mistakes? There were no mistakes. Camille was making pancakes! Like she was asked! 

     And they were coming out beautifully if you asked her! So burnt and blackened that their shade would make the deepest depths of space blush. More smoke than the world’s biggest chimney would begin to know what to do with! And enough flames to make any fire-wielder on the Smash roster scream ‘THAT’S ENOUGH.’

     Or... a certain eye-patched Mii, that worked too. It’s a mixture of mad monotone cackles rising sharply in volume and violent ignorance to her surroundings as a twisted grin climbed up the side of rosy cheeks, any possible idea of genuinely making pancakes gone far, far out the window. This Gyroid was her magnifying glass, the craggy substance once capable of being mistaken as pancake batter the collection of ants she was driven to roast one by one. Which would be reduced to a smoldering heap first? The batter? Or the house? Let’s find out!--

       Wh.. huh? She tunnel-visioned really hard there, what happened to her Gyroid? She’d still be standing there in scorcher-mode if there wasn’t a significant decrease in heat, fists that were clutching the squirming arms of the Gyroid Rocket that wanted to be here as much as everyone else now squeezing nothing but air. Eyes then flick over to Mimi holding her... her sputtering-out Lloid Rocket! Hey! That’s not how you use that thing! You gotta use it properly or the flames die out! That’s her last one, darn it! Arms reach up and out for her rightful item, eyes already looking on the brink of flooding as hands grab wildly for the stolen rocket!

     [ IS THAT SO? ]

     Mimi believes her. And she will let her near this kitchen. (This isn’t her kitchen, but that’s neither here nor there.)

     [ EXCELLENT. DEMONSTRATE HOW YOU WOULD PREPARE A PANCAKE. GWENJAMIN, OBSERVE. ]

     That’s the face of a Mii who knows she isn’t winning this.

     “Okay.”

     This can only poorly. ...In fact, not even poorly. This can only end horribly.

     Given the opportunity to show her mastery of the kitchen, there’s a cutesy curtsey of the pastel-petal skirt as the spotlight is passed over to Camille. Then, a pat to the back for Gwen. Don’t worry, she’ll show you how it’s done.

     First of all, “Ingredients.” Flour, baking powder, milk, salt, sugar... Alright, it actually looked competent so far. Chocolate syrup, chocolate chips, rainbow sprinkles, icing... Alright, it looked like she was now prepping to make a cake instead of pancakes, but it still had cake in the name, right?

     Take a bowl, dunk in some flour, baking soda, and sugar. All of those were done without any measuring cups, by the way. “Cooking needs con-fi-dence.” Oh   is that her reasoning, now. “Guts and heart makes it all taste yummier.” She really could’ve phrased that better. Also, there were definitely egg shells in that batter. The butter wasn’t pre-melted, either. She just mashed a whole cold stick of butter into the mix. Were you supposed to add rainbow sprinkles in this step? That’s a lot of chocolate syrup, Camille   “Use a lot. Makes more for friends.”

     “...But our friends are hungry now.” Her voice shifted down a good octave as the ‘batter’ was placed in the frying pan. There’s violent clicking of the stove’s dial as it’s jammed to maximum heat. There it is. The ol’ 4,000,000 degrees for one second method. Tried and true! 

     Oh, and just in case the stove was taking too long to heat up, a Lloid Rocket was removed from the pockets. (Oh dear.) Shaking the thing like a can of soda. (That’s not how you use those.) And letting it writhe and wriggle in her hands before the flaming jet of the rocket fire let loose its deafening roar on top of the quickly blackening, bubbling mass of boiling batter. And in about... mm, ten seconds, give or take? The pancakes would be done! 

     Either that, or the batter would be so hot that the stove itself would begin to ignite and spread to the rest of the kitchen, but we’d find that out once the pancakes finished!

^-^​:

  —Uh oh. The sisters are back.

( ❝ Oh! Blathers! Evening! ❞ ) Closes the gap between them with a bit too much pep in her step. Her hands are clasped behind her back — is there a bug cage back there, or is she just super relaxed right now? ( ❝ Just the owl I was looking for! Y’know how spring’s coming up? What kinda critters should I keep an eye out for? Just ‘cause, like, all the little creatures come back out to play in the spring, and I’d love to help everyone else learn all about them! ❞ )

You know dang well that the resident nature lover knows already. But no, she wants it straight from the owl’s beak. Give her all the nature facts, Blathie.

     As though the demons were multiplying, the pink one is quick to peek out and lean into view from behind the back of her loving sister! ( “Yeah, Blathers! If I remember correctly, next month is when the Tiger Beetles come back out to play, right? Ooh, I just love the way they bounce, pounce, and leap at you if set’em off even slightly! 

     But man, when Camille gets somewhere, the only thing going through her mind is