The Gardevoir gingerly placed the tray down on the table. A rose coloured teapot sat on it with four matching tea cups placed around it.
The room itself was something of a sorry sight. It was... perhaps just a tad dirty. The furniture wasn't very well taken care of, either. A lot of it was old and what seal their had been originally had long since faded. It gave the room something of a dim atmosphere. A low-hanging lantern was the main source of light within the room, complimented only by a candle that sat near the tea pot.
Overall, it looked like something out of a haunted house. The dust on the floor... the aged furniture... the dark lighting...
But to him, it was home. A strange but warm and comfortable little place. And the three before him were his guests, as they always were. They came so often. It seemed like they were here every day. Sometimes multiple times a day, though that wasn't very often. Life could be terribly busy sometimes, but he always made sure there was time every day.
Busy with what, though...? Well, it really didn't matter. They were here now. These were his guests. He could hardly stop for such contemplation in the middle of a gathering.
“I'm sorry for how musty it is in here.” He smiled sheepishly. “I haven't really had the time to clean up lately. Everything is always so busy lately.”
The Flareon at the other end of the table returned the smile in earnest. “Nonsense, it's fine. I would be happy to help you clean up later this afternoon, Alfred.”
The Flareon's daughter, who was sitting left of Alfred, nodded her agreement. “It would be nice if we could clear the air.”
“No, no, it's fine. I'll ask my wife if she can help me clean it up later.” Yes, his wife. His... His wife...
“Of course. I'm sure Lucinda would be happy to help.”
“Yes, yes, Lucinda... I'm sure Lucinda wouldn't mind helping me later.” Alfred began to shift in his seat uncomfortably, as if he were sitting on tacks. He had this sudden urge to occupy himself. “Right, yes! The tea... We should drink it before it gets cold.”
He quickly set to pouring tea into each cup. His hands had begun shaking slightly, but as he focused himself on pouring the tea they slowly calmed down and became increasingly steady.
The act was accompanied by the thanks of each one who sat at the table. From the Glaceon to the Flareon to the Scyther; each one gave a quiet but honest “thank you” for the tea. The Gardevoir settled down and took to his own glass, as if retreating from the room.
The Glaceon was the first one to break the silence, however comfortable it was. “The weather has been a bit warm lately, hasn't it?”
“Really?” The Scyther set his cup down with care. “I've thought it was fine. It's fairly comfortable lately... Not too warm, but not cold either.”
“Mmm.” She set down her tea cup. “Well... it's been a bit too warm for me, anyways. I suppose it can't really be helped all things considered.”
The Flareon smiled and chuckled lightly. “That's true. You are a Glaceon, after all... and even when you were young you always hated hot days.”
“How about you, Alfred?” The Gardevoir gave a slight hop in surprise, as if he had been broken from a trance. “What do you think about the weather?”
“Ah...” His mind quickly tried to shift gears until it finally clicked. “I haven't really been outside lately. I couldn't say.”
“Mmm.” The Glaceon took another quiet sip of her tea and the silence resumed, though only to be broken again. “So. Have you done any interesting guild work lately?”
“Not really, no.” The Scyther took a long, drawn-out sip from his tea cup before putting it back down. “I captured an Electabuzz recently... he seemed to think that he was some kind of super villain. I'd rather not talk about it.”
“Ah.” For whatever reason, the Scyther seemed unwilling to disclose the details. “I think I heard about that on the news...”
He offered little comment, choosing instead to indulge in his cup of tea. The silence once more consumed the conversation, leaving only the quiet and periodic sipping of tea and the quiet, subtle thud as the cups were put back down. “That was good.”
“Ah...” The Gardevoir fiddled with the tea pot handle, trying to get a solid grip on it. “Let me pour you some more.”
“Of course. Thank you.” The Scyther sat still as the Gardevoir stood up and leaned over to grab hold of the tea pot and carefully pour another full cup.
“So... How have your children been doing lately, Alfred?”
Alfred froze, his hands still glued to the tea pot which hovered mere inches above the table. “My... My children...”
“Soren and Lara are fine, aren't they? Even though your son doesn't seem to speak often, he never has any trouble communicating through the colours he makes appear.”
“Y... Yes.” Alfred eased the tea pot the rest of the way down and drew his hands back to his own tea cup as he sat down. “Yes, of course. Soren and Lara are doing fine. They're... rambunctious. Lara isn't speaking much yet, but she seems perfectly happy. Soren seems to be doing fine in spite of... the colours thing.” He sort of turned his hand at the end of his sentence as if to suggest “You know what I mean.”
“Is that so...?”
The Scyther's statement hung in the air, as if he were asking a question. “Er, how do you mean?”
He quickly shook his head. “No, it's nothing. Nevermind.”
Just as suddenly as he dismissed the question, the chair under the Scyther cracked. One of the chairlegs gave way, sending him tumbling on to his side.
“H-Hey! Are you okay?”
Alfred jumped out of his seat and rushed over to the Scyther's side. “I'm fine... could you help me up?”
“Yes, of course.” The Gardevoir took him by the arm and gave a light pull. Much to his surprise, he lifted the Scyther up with ease and set him back on the chair. “Th... There you go.”
In contrast, the Scyther seemed somewhat surprised. “I didn't think you were that strong. To be able to pick me up so easily...”
The Gardevoir looked down at his own hands and arms. He was... he was rather frail. Now that he mentioned it, it was kind of strange that--
“Well, your body is capable of flight. So you can't be very heavy, after all. How else would Alfred be able to pick you up?”
“Is that so?” The Scyther responded with blatant scepticism, his tone obviously not one which was content with such a simple explanation. “Perhaps.”
The Gardevoir hurried back to his seat and poured himself another cup to drink.
“So how have you been, mom?”
“Fine, lately.” The Flareon put on the good-natured smile that she so often bore. “I've been keeping an eye on Solaris often, but it's not very stressful. He refuses to push any of the work on me and he's enjoyable enough to be around.”
It then came. Quietly, so quietly, for just a moment. But then much more loudly. The soft sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
The conversation cut off in an instant. All three smiled and turned towards Alfred, though it was the Scyther that spoke.
“I'm sorry. But it looks like we're done for now.”
The Gardevoir stood up suddenly, knocking the chair back behind him. “W-Wait! What do you mean!?”
He gave a smile. Such a sad, sad smile. “You already know, even if it's painful to bear. I'm sorry that I left you with it.”
The door burst open, letting the light flood in. A small pool of blood had already formed at the base where an Ivysaur stood.
Oh god...
“I ran into one of their scouting parties. I managed to kill all of them, but we don't have long.”
That... That's right...
“We have to get moving immediately or we'll get caught.”
“You're all dead.”
“Alfred...?” The Ivysaur asked carefully as his eyes adjusted to the dim insides of the room. “Again...?”
The Gardevoir was sitting back on the chair with his knees curled up to his body as he sobbed heavily into his dress.
The table bore no more than a single candle and a plastic pink tea pot meant for children.
At each seat was not a person, but a plushie.
The Ivysaur very carefully collected each one at the top of the table before taking possession of all three with one vine as he extended the other to Alfred.
It carefully wrapped around his hand and crawled up his arm to get a firm grip.
“Come on... We have to get moving. If we wait too long we'll be captured.”
The room itself was something of a sorry sight. It was... perhaps just a tad dirty. The furniture wasn't very well taken care of, either. A lot of it was old and what seal their had been originally had long since faded. It gave the room something of a dim atmosphere. A low-hanging lantern was the main source of light within the room, complimented only by a candle that sat near the tea pot.
Overall, it looked like something out of a haunted house. The dust on the floor... the aged furniture... the dark lighting...
But to him, it was home. A strange but warm and comfortable little place. And the three before him were his guests, as they always were. They came so often. It seemed like they were here every day. Sometimes multiple times a day, though that wasn't very often. Life could be terribly busy sometimes, but he always made sure there was time every day.
Busy with what, though...? Well, it really didn't matter. They were here now. These were his guests. He could hardly stop for such contemplation in the middle of a gathering.
“I'm sorry for how musty it is in here.” He smiled sheepishly. “I haven't really had the time to clean up lately. Everything is always so busy lately.”
The Flareon at the other end of the table returned the smile in earnest. “Nonsense, it's fine. I would be happy to help you clean up later this afternoon, Alfred.”
The Flareon's daughter, who was sitting left of Alfred, nodded her agreement. “It would be nice if we could clear the air.”
“No, no, it's fine. I'll ask my wife if she can help me clean it up later.” Yes, his wife. His... His wife...
“Of course. I'm sure Lucinda would be happy to help.”
“Yes, yes, Lucinda... I'm sure Lucinda wouldn't mind helping me later.” Alfred began to shift in his seat uncomfortably, as if he were sitting on tacks. He had this sudden urge to occupy himself. “Right, yes! The tea... We should drink it before it gets cold.”
He quickly set to pouring tea into each cup. His hands had begun shaking slightly, but as he focused himself on pouring the tea they slowly calmed down and became increasingly steady.
The act was accompanied by the thanks of each one who sat at the table. From the Glaceon to the Flareon to the Scyther; each one gave a quiet but honest “thank you” for the tea. The Gardevoir settled down and took to his own glass, as if retreating from the room.
The Glaceon was the first one to break the silence, however comfortable it was. “The weather has been a bit warm lately, hasn't it?”
“Really?” The Scyther set his cup down with care. “I've thought it was fine. It's fairly comfortable lately... Not too warm, but not cold either.”
“Mmm.” She set down her tea cup. “Well... it's been a bit too warm for me, anyways. I suppose it can't really be helped all things considered.”
The Flareon smiled and chuckled lightly. “That's true. You are a Glaceon, after all... and even when you were young you always hated hot days.”
“How about you, Alfred?” The Gardevoir gave a slight hop in surprise, as if he had been broken from a trance. “What do you think about the weather?”
“Ah...” His mind quickly tried to shift gears until it finally clicked. “I haven't really been outside lately. I couldn't say.”
“Mmm.” The Glaceon took another quiet sip of her tea and the silence resumed, though only to be broken again. “So. Have you done any interesting guild work lately?”
“Not really, no.” The Scyther took a long, drawn-out sip from his tea cup before putting it back down. “I captured an Electabuzz recently... he seemed to think that he was some kind of super villain. I'd rather not talk about it.”
“Ah.” For whatever reason, the Scyther seemed unwilling to disclose the details. “I think I heard about that on the news...”
He offered little comment, choosing instead to indulge in his cup of tea. The silence once more consumed the conversation, leaving only the quiet and periodic sipping of tea and the quiet, subtle thud as the cups were put back down. “That was good.”
“Ah...” The Gardevoir fiddled with the tea pot handle, trying to get a solid grip on it. “Let me pour you some more.”
“Of course. Thank you.” The Scyther sat still as the Gardevoir stood up and leaned over to grab hold of the tea pot and carefully pour another full cup.
“So... How have your children been doing lately, Alfred?”
Alfred froze, his hands still glued to the tea pot which hovered mere inches above the table. “My... My children...”
“Soren and Lara are fine, aren't they? Even though your son doesn't seem to speak often, he never has any trouble communicating through the colours he makes appear.”
“Y... Yes.” Alfred eased the tea pot the rest of the way down and drew his hands back to his own tea cup as he sat down. “Yes, of course. Soren and Lara are doing fine. They're... rambunctious. Lara isn't speaking much yet, but she seems perfectly happy. Soren seems to be doing fine in spite of... the colours thing.” He sort of turned his hand at the end of his sentence as if to suggest “You know what I mean.”
“Is that so...?”
The Scyther's statement hung in the air, as if he were asking a question. “Er, how do you mean?”
He quickly shook his head. “No, it's nothing. Nevermind.”
Just as suddenly as he dismissed the question, the chair under the Scyther cracked. One of the chairlegs gave way, sending him tumbling on to his side.
“H-Hey! Are you okay?”
Alfred jumped out of his seat and rushed over to the Scyther's side. “I'm fine... could you help me up?”
“Yes, of course.” The Gardevoir took him by the arm and gave a light pull. Much to his surprise, he lifted the Scyther up with ease and set him back on the chair. “Th... There you go.”
In contrast, the Scyther seemed somewhat surprised. “I didn't think you were that strong. To be able to pick me up so easily...”
The Gardevoir looked down at his own hands and arms. He was... he was rather frail. Now that he mentioned it, it was kind of strange that--
“Well, your body is capable of flight. So you can't be very heavy, after all. How else would Alfred be able to pick you up?”
“Is that so?” The Scyther responded with blatant scepticism, his tone obviously not one which was content with such a simple explanation. “Perhaps.”
The Gardevoir hurried back to his seat and poured himself another cup to drink.
“So how have you been, mom?”
“Fine, lately.” The Flareon put on the good-natured smile that she so often bore. “I've been keeping an eye on Solaris often, but it's not very stressful. He refuses to push any of the work on me and he's enjoyable enough to be around.”
It then came. Quietly, so quietly, for just a moment. But then much more loudly. The soft sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.
The conversation cut off in an instant. All three smiled and turned towards Alfred, though it was the Scyther that spoke.
“I'm sorry. But it looks like we're done for now.”
The Gardevoir stood up suddenly, knocking the chair back behind him. “W-Wait! What do you mean!?”
He gave a smile. Such a sad, sad smile. “You already know, even if it's painful to bear. I'm sorry that I left you with it.”
The door burst open, letting the light flood in. A small pool of blood had already formed at the base where an Ivysaur stood.
Oh god...
“I ran into one of their scouting parties. I managed to kill all of them, but we don't have long.”
That... That's right...
“We have to get moving immediately or we'll get caught.”
“You're all dead.”
“Alfred...?” The Ivysaur asked carefully as his eyes adjusted to the dim insides of the room. “Again...?”
The Gardevoir was sitting back on the chair with his knees curled up to his body as he sobbed heavily into his dress.
The table bore no more than a single candle and a plastic pink tea pot meant for children.
At each seat was not a person, but a plushie.
The Ivysaur very carefully collected each one at the top of the table before taking possession of all three with one vine as he extended the other to Alfred.
It carefully wrapped around his hand and crawled up his arm to get a firm grip.
“Come on... We have to get moving. If we wait too long we'll be captured.”
Was not written with size=9 or center in mind, so pardon the poor formatting.
All (or at least most?) continuity "errors" were intentional, ie: the chair "Breaking".
