#maskedmischief

With mischief,

Narë.

*the note has a splash of green paint in the corner and a burn in another, it looks rather like it had been torn out of the unfortunate notebook of hers*

Eredin knows how to flirt.

He will deny this, of course—insist that he is utterly inept at such things, that he stumbles over words and makes a fool of himself, that he has no skill for charm or seduction. He will say these things with all the sincerity in the world, and yet I have witnessed him wield honeyed words with the precision of a master artisan shaping gold leaf.

There was a masquerade, once. A grand affair, shimmering candlelight casting warm halos upon velvet masks, music weaving soft spells into the air...

I did not recognize him at all.

The person who approached me that night was a stranger—or so I thought. A vision of elegance wrapped in shadow and silver, voice smooth as aged wine, a hand extended in silent invitation. I hesitated, of course. I am not in the habit of accepting dances from masked strangers, no matter how gracefully they bow or how effortlessly they spin poetry into their words.

But he was persistent. A murmured challenge, a promise of only one dance, nothing more. And against my better judgment, I accepted.

He twirled me into the music as if we had done this a thousand times before, each step effortless, every turn perfectly in sync. His touch was light but sure, his presence magnetic in a way that left no room for second-guessing. And as we moved, he spoke—low, teasing remarks, the kind that left heat curling at the edges of my composure.

It was only after the dance had ended, after I had spent the better part of an hour wondering just who this masterful enigma could be, that we both finally removed our mask.

Eredin.

Confidence. Absolute, undeniable confidence. A knowing smile behind the silk, a cadence in his voice that curled like smoke, rich and deliberate. He had learned how to let words linger, how to wield his gaze like a bowstring drawn just to the edge of release. And I, unsuspecting fool that I was, walked straight into the trap. And as soon as the mask was off, his face gained back all those usual shades of red and he RAN for the hills.

He spoke to me that evening as if he had known me in a dozen lifetimes. As if every secret I had ever held was written in the tilt of my chin, the cadence of my breath. He was poetry that night, and worse—he knew it.

And yet, if you ask him now? He will tell you he cannot flirt. That he has no talent for such things.

“Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand.

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”

- W. B. Yeats

♦♦♦

The experience of nighttime in the city is one of subjectivity. There are some who are lucky enough to live in areas of wealth and prosperity amongst the crème de la crème, attending to their business meetings during the day and going out to exclusive clubs at night for drinks along with their beautiful, rich friends. There are others who live in the suburbs, satisfied with their middle-class lives, their nine-to-five hours, and coming home to eat dinner with the family in the evening. It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s one that they are content with - after all, they have their health and their families, and they really couldn’t ask for anything more. Then, there are those who have been dealt a terrible card in life - the unfortunate ones - the ones who have nothing and no one on which or whom to depend. Perhaps some people believe that they “chose” that lifestyle via the route of drugs, alcohol, laziness, and perhaps it is true for many, but for some, this couldn’t be farther from fact. There are those who were never given a choice, and they have two options: they can sit around and wait for life to appease them, or they can attempt to find their own happiness and create their own magic. And how rewarding it can be for those who choose to create something...out of nothing.

♦♦♦

“Alright!” Will stated eagerly, “Three cards! The Jack of Spades, the Jack of Clubs, and....the Queen of Hearts! The Queen holds the bets - it’s your job to pick which card is she! The bet will start at one Pokedollar and will be doubled each round. We’ll continue for as long as you want, but if you pick the wrong card, I win~.” 

A twenty-something male stood on the sidewalk before the Psychic, finger to his chin as he watched Will mix the three cards at a relatively slow pace, his eyes following the Queen that had been shown to him before the shuffle. 

“That one,” the young man said, pointing to the card in the middle of the other two. Will flipped it, showing that it was, indeed, the Queen of Hearts. The game continued as the player became greedier for more money, the purplette completely unphased by the growing bet. At eight turns, the bet was at 256 Pokedollars, soon to become 512. It was at this point that the masked dealer decided to trick the other, using subtle handwork to cause his opponent’s eyes to follow the wrong card. Upon the reveal, the player began to remove his wallet from his back pocket, slowly taking out money for the bet, when an older man nearby held up a hand to stop him. The eyes of everyone in the small crowd around player and dealer moved to the man as he began to speak. 

“No,” he said firmly, “don’t give it to him. This kid just tried to scam you! That trick is one of the oldest in the book, and if he can’t make a fair bet, he doesn’t deserve your money.”

The victim of Will’s con looked down angrily, wiping the cards from the cardboard box they sat upon and nearly slapping the young Psychic. Will put his hands up in defense and stood from his chair quickly. 

“H-hey! There’s no need for any violence, a-alright? It was j-just a little trick! It’s not MY fault that you fell for it!” Will gulped while simultaneously grinning, an involuntary defense mechanism. 

The crowd was getting riled up. From behind his mask, Will could see the looks of disapproval being shot his way as he attempted to verbally defend himself. It was when he began to stutter and back away from the group that they threw their nasty at him, causing him to perspire and shake uncontrollably. The teenager winced as harsh words fell upon him like an avalanche of doubt and anger. 

“Ya been out here messin’ with people every night, kid. ‘S time to give it up, dont’cha think?”

“Are you an idiot? This is such a scam! I have Pokemon that could do better tricks than you!”

“He’s probably another runaway who thinks he’ll make it big time. Ha! Go home to your parents, kid. You’re probably breaking your mother’s heart.”

Will stood in disbelief as the crowd began to disperse, throwing him disappointed looks as Thea, his Xatu, attempted to shield him from their glares. However, from under her wing, the Psychic watched as a very young girl stared back at him in longing, her blonde hair just reaching her shoulders as she flashed a smile back towards him. Will grinned at her warmly, happy that someone had enjoyed the show, even if it was simply a child. To him, children were wonderful because they were still too innocent to see anything other than magic in his tricks and talents, so having them in the audience gave him confidence and the ability to see himself through their eyes. However, it was when someone attempted to remove that innocence that Will became upset, and as the small girl was dragged along the sidewalk by her father, the masked boy heard him speak to his daughter. 

“Don’t look at him, darling. He’s just a good-for-nothing beggar. Save that smile for someone who matters.” 

The teenaged boy frowned as the girl was dragged further and further away and as the last remaining angry spectators took their leave. Packing up his belongings, Will groaned loudly and looked up at the sky. Few stars could be seen over the Goldenrod cityscape, as the bright lights from its more active districts blocked out the tiny pinpoints, but the ones that could be seen were very special to him. They were indicative that if he could  just shine bright enough, then maybe someone would finally take notice of him and hold him in high regard. Though, at current, it seemed that would never occur. 

♦♦♦

Standing on the corner of the street, the Psychic thought back to his earlier days when he’d been shifted around from orphanage to foster home and back again. At the local boy’s home in Goldenrod City, he’d been treated horribly by staff and peer alike, constantly being told that he was “strange”, and even “scary”. A special box had been placed in the broom closet that held “contraband” collected from the room he’d shared with two other boys. Within the box were playing and tarot cards, spoons that had been stolen from the home’s kitchen, bags of tea leaves, small dolls shaped like other residents of the home, a pair of handcuffs, a crystal ball, and several books on telepathy and fortune telling. It seemed that any item the staff found to be “suspicious” or “dangerous” was taken away and placed into the box in the closet. What the Matron and her staff didn’t know, however, was that these items were helping Will learn to control his powers at his young age. In fact, it was more dangerous for him NOT to have a means of focus than for them to be accessible to him at all times. This ignorance on their part was why Will made his choice to run away from orphanages and foster families forever. 

It had been raining on the day he’d finally made the decision. However, it wasn’t as though he’d taken much care into planning his exit, and when it happened, it was spontaneous and filled with anger. All of the boys and the orphanage workers were gathered in the dining room for supper, each of them with a bowl of tomato soup and a sandwich. While many of the boys laughed and entertained one another with inappropriate jokes and silly faces, Will kept to himself, spooning soup into his mouth quietly. That was when it had occurred - the Matron had looked directly at him and had politely asked him to remove his mask, the one item she’d not yet taken from him. The boy had said nothing, and simply continued to eat his food as his peers looked at him uncomfortably, shifting in their seats.

“Will,” the Matron had said, “I told you to please remove your mask.”

Again, the young Psychic had done nothing but continue his business of completing dinner, not giving her the slightest glimpse or nod. 

“WILL,” she said more sternly, “I won’t ask you again. Take. Off. The. Mask.”

Spoon in hand, Will began to shake in anger, and in his mind passed a bitter thought. Hell, she’s already taken everything else away. If this is what she wants, then why not. 

With his free hand, Will pulled the ribbon of his black fabric mask and it fell to the table in one swift motion. To the Matron his eyes shifted, violet and filled with spite towards the woman. He’d known what was going to happen before he’d even removed the cover, as without it his powers were nearly impossible to control. Why the child had been “blessed” with such intense mental ability was a mystery, and for as much as he’d tried to lessen it in order to protect those around him, he couldn’t do anything to prevent the chaos that would occur when the item that acted as a buffer was removed. That is why the entire room grew silent when the young Psychic’s violet eyes began to grow brighter in intensity, why gasps were heard from everyone around the table as each piece of silverware in their hands was bent in perfect unison, and why screams escaped from the mouths of all who were present as they were thrown back against the walls, still in their chairs. Above the large table, the chandelier had begun to shake violently before falling onto the wooden surface and smashing into millions of pieces, sending glass flying in every direction. It was only when Will was able to replace his mask and come out of his trance that he’d seen the damage he'd done and had run away, leaving any belonging, any friend he’d made behind forever and never looking back.

♦♦♦

Clouds were beginning to cover the stars that Will looked up at, a storm traveling with them. As rain began to fall, the teenager shuffled along the sidewalk, Thea flying as best she could alongside her human partner.  A chill passed through the air and the boy pulled his torn black coat further over his arms, shivering as he walked through puddles and felt his wet, violet hair begin to mat to his face. It was getting late, and he’d have to find a makeshift location to rest for the night, feeling too tired to travel the several blocks back to his “home”, a platform on the fire escape of an old building. Sighing, he turned a corner down a long, murky alleyway and leaned against the bricks of one of the buildings on the sides, letting himself slide downwards until hitting the wet ground. What did it matter that he was sitting in a puddle of dirty water? He was already dirty, wet, and exhausted. At this point, little mattered to him apart from finding an escape from the real world through sleep. However, it was almost immediately after he’d pulled his legs tightly into his body and rested his head upon his knees that he’d heard shouting coming from down the alleyway. 

Will raised his head in dull curiosity, wondering what in Arceus’ name was going on. Pulling himself to his feet, the Psychic began to wander down the alleyway, nearly tripping over a Rattata as it scampered past in a rush. Steadying himself, Will walked onward until he saw the origin of the shouting.  

She appeared to be fairly young, probably not even a teenager, and had two sections of blue hair tied into wet pigtails on either side of her head. Two hulking men stood before her in threatening positions, and though Will couldn’t make out their exact words, he could tell that something bad was about to go down. Hiding behind a garbage can, he watched with anxiety as the men continued to throw threats at her and push her around, overpowering the girl who was less than half their size. She threw insults back their way, and it surprised Will that she was able to give them so much grief. However, it was when one of the men readied himself to punch the child that the scrawny teenager made his own move, attempting to show more bravery than he actually possessed. 

“HEY!” he shouted at the pair of crooks, bringing the attention to himself, “How about you leave her alone, hm? Whatever sort of business would you have with a kid like that?”

Adjusting his mask, he approached the others from the darkness of the inner alleyway, the mist flowing around him giving aid to his dramatic entrance. 

The trio did not seem impressed. 

“Who the Hell are you?” one of the men asked disbelievingly as the two-bit magician made his way to the group. Will was beginning to wonder what exactly he was getting himself into, but he had a weakness when it came to children who were alone, like he’d been, and knew that he had to keep up the act. At the inquiry from the thug, Will gave a tight smirk.

“Heyyy, watch the profanity, won’t ya? What, are you trying to take away her innocence? Shame on you!”

The other reacted exactly as Will had expected him to - with a forceful lunge - and the Psychic jumped into the air, levitating for a moment to allow for the man to land face-first in a pile of unbagged garbage. 

“Too slow!” he shouted playfully, the sudden match beginning to lift his spirits again. 

Will watched as the other man began to come at him as well, and he moved quickly to the side, revealing Thea behind him, who blew a violent gust at the human opponent, causing him to stumble backwards onto the ground. In a rush, the purplette grabbed the young woman’s hand and pulled her back into the alley, where he lifted her up onto a ladder on the side of one of the buildings and told her to climb. Following close behind, Will grimaced as the two crooks caught on to what was happening and began to trail after them, clumsily making their way up the ladder as well. 

“Dammit,” Will whispered under his breath before shouting at the blunette to move a bit more quickly. When the pair had finally reached the top, the Psychic looked over the side at their stalkers, who were still several yards away. It was then that he noticed how eroded the metal of the top of the ladder was, and considered how easily it would bend and break. Using the final reserves of mental strength that he had left, Will began to twist the ladder’s connections to the top of the building. The metal was relatively pliable, but it was also in better shape than the boy had previously judged. It was when the thugs were merely a foot away that Will gave a final telepathic twist that caused the ladder to fall backwards, men still attached to its wet steps. Hanging on for dear life, the two trouble makers continued to shout what were now empty threats at the blue-haired girl and the masked man, and Will began to laugh crazily at the event. 

“That was GREAT!” he said hysterically, still looking down at his victims and sticking out a tongue at them.  It was only when he heard the clearing of a throat behind him that Will turned to face the girl. He blanched.

It was a blustery autumn day on which preparations had been made for Will to arrive in Ecruteak City and make his way to the Kimono Dance Theater. Crackled red and orange leaves rushed past him in a playful breeze, making the tails of his waistcoat dance about and causing strands of his violet hair to whip at his face gently. Heels clicking lightly against the ground, Will hurried quickly towards his destination carrying nothing but an old suitcase and an amused grin. He was in high spirits on that day, enjoying the chill in the air and musing over his performance that would soon take place - the partaking of something he hadn't done in quite a long time. 

Reaching the Theater, Will knocked on the door eagerly, announcing his arrival to the young women inside and grinning to a group of children that passed by on the street as they looked up at the Elite, both mystified and amused. Still awaiting a greeter before barging into the Theater himself, Will approached the huddle of young kids, four boys and a tiny girl, who looked up wondering what on earth the strange man could want. 

"Lady and Gentlemen," the Psychic said, bowing and flashing them his prize-winning smile before proceeding to kneel on one knee in order to talk with them face-to-face, "I've noticed that a lack of Lass- and Youngster-tailored activities exists within your lovely town, and I'm here to personally invite you to a one-night-only exhibition of mystery....and magic~"

Will relished in joy as he "removed" a coin from behind one of the boys' ears and presented the little lady with a single red rose, causing her to blush furiously at his gift. Smile still gracing his face, the Elite continued to kneel, telling his young admirers the details of his performance later that evening, when he heard the large doors of the Theater open behind him. Turning in surprise, Will looked up at the lovely Kimono Girl who stood before him. Truth be told, had he not been able to read their minds to discover their own identities, the Psychic would have never been able to tell the girls apart. Despite the fact that he did, indeed, know that the Kimono Girl Kuni stood before him, Will wasn't going to let a bit of playfulness elude him.

"Ah!" he said cheerfully, "Miki! A pleasure it is to see you!" 

Kuni rolled her eyes at him and invited the Elite into the Theater, where the remainder of the girls greeted him, in turn. The space was beautiful, with floral patterned mats sitting atop a bamboo floor, and a raised stage on which the women would typically have been seen performing their interpretive dances. It was true that Will had visited the theater several times before, as he'd lived with a family in Ecruteak for a short time as a child. In that period, he'd become familiar with all of the Kimono Girls and their brother, the current Gym Leader of the city. However, it had honestly been ages since he'd visited the historical town, and people, places, and things have a tendency to change quite a bit once a chapter of life ends. Now, being here again made him a bit teary-eyed and nostalgic, though these were things he would never let onto.

  Will adjusted his mask and began to set up, moving to the raised platform and pulling items from his suitcase. The first was a table (yes....a table), foldable, which he loosened the legs of and allowed to stand before him. The remainder of the items included cards, coins, scarves of every color, handcuffs (??), a large, black top hat, and his Pokeballs. After arranging all of the items on the table neatly, Will groaned and placed his fingers to his temples, realizing he'd forgotten something. Putting a finger up to signal that he would return soon, the Psychic vanished from the Theater in a flash and returned just as quickly, holding onto something large, wooden, and quite dangerous looking. The saw that Will held in his other hand was simply an added bonus in terms of disaster.  

"W-Will, do you really think that's appropriate?" the Elite heard Sayo, the eldest of the sisters ask. 

The violet-haired trainer looked back at her sardonically. 

"Sayo, darling," he began. "my middle name is 'Appropriate', and you can save your breath on saying that my middle name is something else that starts with an 'A' and ends with an 'e', because I know that's what you're thinking!"

"Right," she said, "well as long as you don't dismember any children in this 'production', I think we'll all be just fine~." 

---

It was only after the Elite and Kimono Girls had had dinner and after Will had completed several hours of uninterrupted "mental preparation" that children began to arrive at the Theater. Word of mouth spread quickly in Ecruteak City, particularly between young ones, it seemed. With the lights turned down low and everyone getting seated, Will began his actions with the poise of a professional magician. Once the basic tricks of choosing the card someone had picked or pulling a Buneary out of a hat had been taken care of, it was time to move onto the GRAND FINALE.

Will looked around at all of the Kimono Girls standing against the Theater walls and actively peered into their minds, gauging their responses to the wooden box before him. Nope. Nope. Definitely not happening. HELL NO. Annnnnd nada. The Psychic frowned.

"Oh c'mon! I know one of you must be brave enough to be my assistant! I can't saw myself in half now, can I?"

It was at that point that Will nearly gave up, when the doors of the Theater were thrust open by a person whom he would absolutely not let resist his request. Pieces of blonde hair were matted to the other's face, his bloodied scarf blew restlessly in the wind from outside, and he was breathing heavily, as though he'd just seen a...ghost. Will grinned as widely as a cat.

"MORTY! You've arrived just in time! C'mon up!" he shouted jovially, waving the saw in the air with excitement. Will bent over the crowd and motioned towards the other dramatically.

"And now, my young audience, this is where the show really starts!"