ice cold

Her pokémon were— well, for lack any other way of putting it— put off. Being away from the lab, Blanche had thought the trip a good opportunity to give her team a chance to get out of their pokéballs, to relax, to stretch their legs. But, soon after arriving, her pokémon had begun to grow antsy.

The Monday and Tuesday of Blanche’s research week was characterised by pacing. Her pokémon would tread anxious circles around where Blanche had stationed her equipment, more fidgety than she’d ever seen them. Maru, normally the calmest and most unaffected of her pokémon, was uncharacteristically flighty. By Wednesday, even Koya, usually more than happy to wander off on its own and only return when called, was staying put by Blanche’s legs, tail wound almost protectively around her ankles.

It’s all just— strange. Very strange. And increasingly, very annoying, too. Blanche had quickly found that she couldn’t focus when her pokémon were so obviously agitated; and time spent not focussing on data collection means more time than she has to spend, here.

Thursday dawns, and if she’s being honest, Blanche herself is beginning to feel ill at ease. Perhaps it’s the sleep she’s losing over the mysterious cause of her team’s anxiety, or perhaps it’s something else entirely. Maybe it’s the inexplicable rustling of her papers as she works, with no breeze to catch on them; the way stacks of folders and files seem to slide of their own accord, very nearly toppling days of work.

It’s annoying. And, perhaps more pressingly, it’s a little creepy.

If it’s her proximity to the Lost Tower that’s the cause of the issue (it’s the only potentially wrong thing that Blanche can think of, after everything), then she’s utterly out of her depth.

Blanche has never really been the type to call for help. It’s not that she’s adverse to it; simply that, when difficulties arise, she prefers to attempt to troubleshoot the issue herself. Challenges presented to Blanche, she tries to take in stride. It’s absolutely not that she’s just far too proud to ask for help, not that at all.

Still, Blanche is pragmatic; she likes to think that she’s not quite yet arrogant enough to be convinced that she’s capable of solving any and every problem that may ever come to pass. So, when such a time comes— and she’s fortunate that, thus far in her life, such times are far and few between— Blanche is relatively well-prepared to swallow her pride.

Now is, very clearly, one of those times.

So it comes Blanche’s turn to purse their lips— their face doesn’t otherwise falter; their expression of carefully cultivated professionalism immaculate. They’ve done this kind of thing before, of course, but still. Blanche can’t say they’re exactly excited by the prospect; publicity events don’t rank highly on their list of most relished things to do. If Blanche is honest, publicity events don’t even make the list, at all.

If they could have it their way, they’d much rather have Willow call the favour from Spark or Candela— the two of them are far more charismatic, far better public speakers than Blanche can ever hope be. For all that Blanche is competitive, for all that they hate to concede defeat, they’ll still admit that much. Just— probably not out loud.

But, still. Work is work. The Professor has asked something of them personally, and, for the sake of work and a job well done, there’s very little that Blanche won’t do. Besides, at the end of the day, Blanche doesn’t really mind. Not like the Professor seems to. The Professor has, in the past, always made sure they were well prepared with carefully thought through statements and answers for just about every eventuality that could arise in an interview. And, if not, then Blanche themselves have never shied away from putting in the work.

They do, of course, like it better this way. They’d probably grow restless, if not for their work and and steady flow of things to do and things to think about. Since becoming leader of Mystic, Blanche has always done their best to evenly distribute the amount of time they spend in different regions, especially in this crucial stage of development. But gym establishment in Sinnoh is Blanche’s personal responsibility, where Candela and Spark have claimed other regions... So, they reason, it can’t be helped.

Considering where they are in the GO project development timeframe, getting a call from Professor Willow isn’t really a surprise. Rearranging their schedule to clear the few hours they estimate they’ll need to fly out to Pastoria and meet with the Professor is a little tricky— Blanche’s staunch position against outsourcing work, particularly that which does not strictly concern the conduction of experiments and research that they cannot fulfil on their own, does not make rescheduling any easier. But, they manage; and when they’re done, they collect Maru, and take off.

When they arrive, Henrietta greets them in the foyer with a smile that Blanche returns, and asks that they wait a moment for the Professor— he’ll be down shortly. Willow’s new lab, Blanche notes, is much sparser than its previous iteration. But that’s to be expected; Blanche suspects that the Professor and his team are still moving in and setting up.

When the Professor appears, they follow him to a small living space, following suit as he takes a seat.

But right now, she’s got time to kill before the conference’s main event— the reason Rowan had sent her in his stead in the first place. A panel about new discoveries regarding a possible different sort of pokémon evolution in Kalos. Very exciting new developments.

Right now, there appears to be a special guest panel— which seems interesting enough. Blanche steps into line, swallowed up by the crowd, following the large group wearing jackets emblazoned with junior science.

The voice, coming from the front of the room where a booth is set up, sounds somewhat familiar...

Ah, yes. The Indigo Elite Four had recently seen a change of staff. Blanche had followed that development with limited interest whenever Sinnohan news reported on foreign affairs; but the fact that she had still been interested in something that didn’t strictly relate to her research said a lot, especially coming from Blanche.

Blanche squints— and from what little she can see— this Karen looks to be around her age. Fifteen or sixteen, at most.

And gosh, since she’s here, Blanche’s head is filling with all sorts of questions she’d like to ask. Karen is, after all, a type specialist. A type master. She’ll listen first, of course, to see what Karen has to say. Blanche wouldn’t want to make Karent repeat herself, if doing so is it all avoidable.

Hands go up, and voices ring out from the crowd around her:

“Karen! Do you train other pokémon types?”

“What made you wanna specialise in dark types?”