#spkmth

      SENTENCE STARTERS !

Raihan couldn’t even bite back the laughter if he wanted to.

“That’s the most Spikemuth thing I’ve ever heard.” His posture deflated as he hunched forward and had to concede that one to Piers. “I reckon anyone who keeps sniffin’ around a place where they’ve already been blasted with an apple deserves it. They know the consequences, the poor fool’s even askin’ for it at that point,” he laughed.

Truth be told, Oleana took great pleasure and pride in her community service. Though menial labor seemed a waste of her skills, work for the sake of Galar (and her work in the mines in particular) somehow made her feel closer to Rose. Even putting that aside, work granted a sense of purpose and a means of occupying her mind. A completed checklist, she was sure, could bring her satisfaction regardless of the context.

That being said, deciding to take her services to Spikemuth had perhaps been a mistake. As if it wasn’t enough that the place had a certain way of bringing to mind things she preferred to forget, she sensed eyes leering at her around every corner, full of mistrust.

At the very least, certain things remained as true here as they were elsewhere: none were foolish enough to actually try anything with her—particularly not when she had a towering, foul-smelling Garbodor at her side.

Having already paid her obligatory visit to Marnie to assess the state of the gym and offer, once more, to have it relocated (soundly refused, of course), Oleana had chosen to linger on the street running to it and busy herself with basic litter pickup. As she moves to skewer a discarded can on the end of her rubbish picker, a series of clicks and low trills from Marjory interrupt her uncharitable rumination on the fate of the town and its residents.

Years of partnership allow her to understand the Garbodor’s sounds as a request: Is for me? Glancing up, she finds an excitedly drooling Marjory poised over the soggy remains of an old mattress that must have been tossed into the street at least a month prior.

“I don’t see why not,” she replies, spearing a plastic bottle. “Help yourself.”

With an exhuberant squeal, Marjory begins to tear into the thing, scattering bits of moldy fluff into the gutter. For all the harsh judgment the species tended to receive, none could accuse a member of the Trubbish line of being difficult to please. Oleana has to smile, seeing her partner so happy with her find—and it is a smile sorely needed.

No sooner has Marjory managed to rip off a chunk of the mattress, however, that she suddenly pauses, her focus wandering down the road. When Oleana turns her head to follow the Pokémon’s gaze, she finds herself face to face with someone regrettably familiar.

“Oh... Mr. Fluellyn. What a surprise.”

how’s my portrayal?

❝ you’re not getting sick again, are you? ❞ pls leon allow piers to get paternal on you

‘ me? sick? ‘

leon was quick to scoff, and even quicker yet to swat away piers’s hand that had wandered a bit too close. likely had he been gunning to check for a fever, but leon knew he’d find absolutely nothing, for he was the pinnacle of health!

or, at least, he was.

‘ it’s just a case of the winter sniffles, piers, you don’t need to go full mother hen on me, ‘ leon teased, expertly deflecting the concern he felt unnecessary as he rummaged through his bag for a tissue. it wasn’t a lie, truly! the sharp dips and rises in temperature seemed to come directly for his sinuses, finding himself with a bit of a sniffle whenever he transitioned from warm to cold, as often was the case when running in and out of heated buildings out into the frigid, winter air. of course, this was a bit more than a sniffle.

a bit of stuffiness had entered his nose over the last couple of days, and in quiet desperation had he been downing every last vitamin the internet said would help, even if he knew it would be fruitless. such a thing had been learned from experience, but, he didn’t have time to be sick. the end of the year was in sight, and there was much to be prepped to ensure the new year would be nothing short of smooth sailing.

that, and the next league challenge would begin come spring. leon would be lying if he didn’t have some anxious butterflies in his stomach, thinking of how it would be his first year not as champion, but chairman.

“  i’m about to play my ace.  ”           @spkmth​,  from  HERE.

HE’S  STILL  UNCOMFORTABLE  IN  CROWDED  PLACES,   which is to be expected from a graveyard b  skulker like allister.     but any battle is worthy of his full attention,  especially one with  piers  as his opponent.     of course this is only for  exhibition,  but ... it’s still a challenge.     more of a challenge than he’s used to.

he’s down to his dusknoir & his gengar,  which patiently waits inside of its dusk ball for allister’s call.     dusknoir is getting tired,  if that’s possible for ghosts,  but the boy is keyed in on how the ghost’s gut  b maw hangs loosely open & its eyelid droops.     he mentally wills it to hang in there a little longer,  purple eyes flashing out from behind the bleak sockets of the mask for only a moment as he turns to regard his opponent.

“  then  play,   piers ...  ”     the masked boy rasps,  raising his arm to alert his dusknoir but not to recall it.     “  show us ... your mastery of the dark ... show us what we know so well ...  ”