"Beyond Her Garden" was an experiment, one that didn't have anything to do with the song I based it on, one that I loved and that came to great fruition. Unfortunately, some questions were left unanswered. How did Mistress Octavia meet Master Kricketune? What was their history, their story? History now makes me think of "his story." But this is more than Master Kricketune's story. It is about Mistress Octavia as well.
However, in this, I find it necessary to go back even further in time. So, we will look at Mistress Octavia and Master Kricketune as children, as a Snorunt and a Kricketot. Please join me as I take a deeper look at the relationship between Octavia and Kricketune.
I present "For You."
FOR YOU
Agnes was not a happy Snorunt. She had every reason to be happy, but her attitude was simply one of unhappiness. Her parents were successful Glalie, ones who sold ice in the tropics and had made quite a fortune. Her sister was engaged to be wed to a wealthy lumber seller. She herself was getting ready to attend the primary school for young Pokemon in Treasure Town. Yet something gnawed at her heart.
For a while, she suspected that is was because of her family. Her parents were not around often, at least during the winter, but Agnes had realized that they more than made up for it when they were around. Her sister snubbed her many times, but it was because they were siblings. It wasn't because of her family.
She had not been able to figure it out, and she feared that she never would. When she went to school, she knew there would be no time for her to think. So Agnes thought as long and as hard as she possibly could. But she could not figure it out. And then it was time for school.
"Hello, class!" a cheerful Noctowl exclaimed. "I will be your teacher! My name is Madame Oculus, but you may simply call me Oculus. Now, let's go around the room and introduce ourselves! Will you start?" Madame Oculus asked a small Mareep.
"H-hello," the Mareep stammered. "My n-name is… Mary…"
"Hello, Mary! It's wonderful to have you here!" Madame Oculus said brightly.
"My name is Keckle! My parents are merchants, and I'm gonna be a merchant when I grow up!" a Kecleon shouted. Another Kecleon, this one purple, nodded.
"I am, too. My name is Koral."
"It's marvelous to meet you, Keckle and Koral! I'm sure you'll do well!" Madame Oculus was the definition of happy. Agnes was relieved to have her as a teacher.
"I am called Kricketot," a little Kricketot said. "I am pleased to make the acquaintance of you all."
"What impeccable speech! Welcome!" Madame Oculus beamed at Kricketot, and Kricketot shifted slightly.
"I'm Whakky," a Cubone said. He swallowed nervously. "I hope to open a place where Pokemon can train safely."
Madame Oculus applauded. "That, my dear, is a worthwhile goal! Far too many exploration teams are undertrained and unsafe. You'll help with that, I'm sure."
Agnes was next. "My name is…" Agnes sighed. "My name is Agnes." Keckle, Koral, Mary, and Whakky all laughed loudly.
"Agnes is an old Gardevoir's name!" Keckle snickered.
"Goodness gracious! I thought my name was bad," Mary said.
Madame Oculus frowned. "Class," she said. Keckle, Koral, Mary, and Whakky ignored her warning tone. "Class!" Madame Oculus exclaimed. "Stop that this instant!"
"But…" Whakky whined, "it's a funny name."
"You will apologize this instant!" Madame Oculus growled. "We do not make fun of each other, children. Do you understand?"
Keckle, Koral, Mary, and Whakky bowed their heads. "Sorry…" they said in unison.
Madame Oculus glared at the four. "I hope this never happens again," she said sternly. She turned to Agnes. "I'm sorry about that, Agnes. That is a wonderful name. I hope that you never feel ashamed of it." Glancing out the window, Madame Oculus nodded. "It's time for recess. I will call you when it's time to come back in. Go have fun!"
Agnes realized she hated her name.
There was a tree that grew at the edge of the play area of the school. This tree was big and thick, full of branches that young Pokemon loved to swing on or sit in. But the only Pokemon there at that recess was Agnes.
She was leaning against the trunk of the tree, wishing she had been named something else. Even Ellen would have been better than Agnes, she thought.
"Why are you sitting here, all on your own?" a voice asked. Agnes opened her eyes. Kricketot was standing in front of her, eyes twinkling.
"What's it to you?" Agnes muttered, turning away from Kricketot.
"I was concerned for you."
"What?" Agnes turned back to Kricketot. His eyes were still twinkling. "You? Concerned for me? Why?"
Kricketot smiled. "It was rather unfair of the others to poke at your name. We all come in different styles, and you happened to come as Agnes."
Agnes frowned. "Thanks. I'm okay, though. I don't know if you could tell."
He shook his head. "You are not, though. I think, if you permit my forwardness, that you were wounded by their laughter." Kricketot sighed. "It truly is a pity that they saw fit to dislike your name."
"Why do you care?" Agnes snapped. "You have your perfect little speech and your neutral name. No one made fun of you. Why do you even want to care?"
Kricketot's response caught Agnes off-guard. "I would, if you will allow it, like to be your friend. There is something about you that draws me, though it is rather strange to speak of such things at this young of age."
Agnes gagged. "You mean you're in love? Ugh."
"No, no," Kricketot said hastily. "I am simply drawn to you. Your personality is wonderful, conducive to creativity, and you yourself are, in a word, inspirational."
Agnes looked at Kricketot curiously. "You're an artist?"
Kricketot shrugged. "That is one word for what I am engaged in. I prefer, however, the term 'composer.' I am learning to play the cello, and it is an exquisite instrument. It reminds me of you, in fact," he said absently. Agnes wasn't sure if Kricketot had meant to say that, but it warmed her heart.
"So you're learning to play music. Can you write it?" Agnes asked. She figured it was better to humor this strange Pokemon than have him turn against her, too.
Kricketot chuckled. "It is a slow process, my friend. I am able to write rudimentary compositions, but more complex pieces elude my ability. One day, though, I will compose symphonies as marvelous as the stars!" he declared, raising his arms to the sky.
Agnes, in spite of herself, smiled. "When you do, make sure to let me know. I would love to hear them." She wondered if Kricketot would really write symphonies that she would like.
"Of course, my friend" Kricketot assured her, bowing. "I would not exclude my muse."
"Muse?"
"A muse is a giver of inspiration, a totem of creativity," Kricketot explained. "You have become my muse. My previous muse," Kricketot said, a wry smile creeping its way onto his face, "was a nanab berry. I ended up consuming that muse. I cannot do that with you, though."
Agnes laughed. "A nanab berry? Really? That's great!"
Kricketot lowered his head. Agnes caught a hint of red on the part of his cheeks she could see. "Thank you, my friend."
Madame Oculus came out of the school and rang a bell. Kricketot looked over his shoulder before offering a hand to Agnes. She took it, and Kricketot helped her stand. "It seems that we must enter the house of teaching again. If it comes to it, will you be my partner in learning?"
Agnes froze momentarily, scared stiff by the idea. Reaching for the warmth she had felt before, she managed to unfreeze herself and send the fear running. "Of course, Kricketot. Let's go!"
They entered the school, unaware that they were still hanging on to each other.
Madame Oculus had given each of them a paper with letters on it. The students were to copy the letters on the spaces provided. Agnes, having learned how to write at home, quickly finished the work and looked out the window. Next to her, Kricketot was struggling with the work.
Agnes glanced around. Keckle and Koral had finished and were tossing a paper ball back and forth. Whakky was sitting next to Mary, helping her steady her pencil in her mouth. Madame Oculus was grading papers of the older students she taught in the afternoons.
"Do you need help?" Agnes asked Kricketot. He sighed and put the pencil down.
"I simply cannot maneuver this writing device," he complained. "I was not built with agility in writing. You, though, were. I wish I were able to write." Kricketot sighed.
Agnes was startled. This wasn't like Kricketot at all. He was normally happy and cheerful. Not quite to Madame Oculus' degree, but still.
"You just need to practice," Agnes said.
"I have practiced often, my friend. I have spent hours upon hours in my bedroom, attempting to master the art of writing. It is impossible for me, my friend." Kricketot put his head on the table.
Agnes frowned before standing. She walked over to Madame Oculus. "Madame Oculus?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes! What is it, Agnes dear?" the Noctowl asked, peering down at Agnes.
"Is it necessary to write?"
Madame Oculus stared at Agnes quizzically. "What do you mean, dear?"
"Well…" Agnes shifted nervously. Madame Oculus noticed.
"You can tell me, Agnes. What is it?"
"Kricketot can't write," Agnes blurted out. "He's tried and practiced for hours and hours, but he still can't move the pencil right! Is it necessary for him to write?"
The Noctowl gazed solemnly at Agnes. Agnes began to shake slightly under Madame Oculus' gaze. Finally, Madame Oculus smiled. "My dear Agnes, don't worry. Our young master Kricketot will do well in this class, even if he can't write. You can help him." Madame Oculus held up a wing as Agnes opened her mouth. "No, don't argue. I will not punish you for helping him. Some Pokemon, unfortunately, are not gifted with the ability to write. But more often than not they are blessed in other ways, sometimes ways far greater than being able to write."
Agnes lowered her eyes in thought. "What do you mean?" she finally asked.
"Well," Madame Oculus said, gesturing to a painting hanging above her desk. It showed a forest scene. An Ursaring and a Mismagius were standing together, facing outward. The Mismagius was faded, as though she were in the act of appearing or disappearing. The Ursaring looked wary, ready to defend against any danger. Agnes immediately loved the painting. "This was painted by a Smeargle by the name of Picazart. He was a master painter, and legends say he painted for Arceus herself. Those legends also say he was the catalyst that brought Arceus and Giratina together as a couple.
"I do not know if those legends are true," Madame Oculus continued, answering Agnes' unspoken question, "but I do know this: Picazart could not write. He could not form letters to save his life. The only two he could make were the letter 'p' and the letter 'z.' They formed his signature. Here," Madame Oculus said, pointing to the bottom right corner of the painting. A yellow and green signature was painted there: PZ.
"So… Kricketot could be another Picazart?" Agnes questioned.
Madame Oculus nodded. "I have my suspicions, but I think he is. Go ahead and help him, Agnes. Though do try to let him figure out the math and sentences," Madame Oculus teased, winking at Agnes. Agnes smiled.
"Thanks, Madame Oculus." Agnes walked back to her table. Kricketot had put his head on the table. His paper was covered with pencil mark scratches. She couldn't read anything on the paper.
"Hello, my friend." Kricketot's voice was subdued. "The writing has overcome me. I feel useless. Leave me here to perish from the graphite plague."
Agnes laughed. "Now, Kricketot, none of that. I talked to Madame Oculus and she said that I can write things for you."
Kricketot raised his head, eyes narrowed slightly. "I do not need that, my friend. I cannot ask you to cheat for me."
Rolling her eyes, Agnes pulled Kricketot's pencil and paper toward her. "Madame Oculus said it was okay, Kricketot. Now, what letter is this?"
He still looked skeptical, but he scooted closer and started studying the paper.
Class for Agnes and Kricketot went in this manner after that. Agnes would finish her work and then write Kricketot's words and numbers for him. Then something went… wrong.
That day, Agnes was reading out the word problems to Kricketot when Keckle and Koral showed up at their table. They stood there for a while before snickering.
"What?" Agnes asked irritably. She didn't like Keckle and Koral at all. They were bossy show-offs. They constantly were bragging about how their parents were big merchants, how their older brother was a successful explorer, and how they were so much smarter than everyone else.
Keckle snickered again. "Is the bug so stupid that he can't even write?"
Agnes felt her jaw clench. She ignored Keckle and tried to read the problem to Kricketot, but he wouldn't respond. He stared straight ahead and didn't say anything.
"Maybe he's so out of it that he can't even speak!" Koral exclaimed. Keckle nodded sagely.
"Yes, that must be it. Koral, remember Lummy?"
"Ah, that Buneary that our successful brother knew? I remember."
"Lummy couldn't speak or write. She couldn't even make gestures!" Keckle shook his head. "It was truly sad when she was-"
Agnes stood quickly and pushed Keckle to the ground. "Shut up!" she hissed. Her vision began to go white around the edges.
Keckle looked up at her with wide eyes. "You… pushed me. You pushed me! To the floor! Ow!" the green Kecleon yelled. "Madame Oculus, old maid Agnes pushed me!"
Koral snuck a smirk at Agnes, and this time Agnes did more than push. She let out a beam of ice that froze the startled purple Kecleon.
"MADAME OCULUS!" Keckle screamed. "AGNES FROZE MY SISTER!"
A swoosh announced Madame Oculus' arrival. She stared at the scene. Keckle was on the floor, bawling. Koral was frozen solid, her eyes moving frantically. Agnes was breathing heavily, and Kricketot was staring at the wall, mouth twitching.
"What is the meaning of this?" Madame Oculus growled. "Keckle, get off of the floor. You're not injured."
As Keckle got tearfully to his feet, Agnes let out a big sigh. "I'm sorry, Madame Oculus," she said quietly. "Keckle and Koral were calling Kricketot stupid. They were talking about a Buneary that couldn't speak or write and were about to say how it got eaten." Agnes lowered her eyes to the floor. She saw Madame Oculus' feet spin to face Keckle. The talons on her right foot began tapping the floor.
"Is this true, Keckle?" The Noctowl's voice was dangerously low.
"NO!" Keckle yelled. "She started it, Oculus! She was saying that our parents and brother are lame, and then she attacked us for no reason! It's true, Oculus!"
Agnes raised her eyes slightly. Madame Oculus glared at Keckle. "Why should I believe you, Keckle? I heard you call Agnes 'old maid Agnes' again. Did you 'forget' that I've told you many times to not do that? Quite frankly, I'm far more inclined to believe Agnes than I am to believe you."
"What?!" Keckle exclaimed. "She's lying, Oculus!"
"Silence, Kecklovio!" Madame Oculus only used full names when she meant business. "I want you to take your sister and sit in the corner. You can be assured that I will be speaking to your parents about this." As Keckle dragged Koral to the corner, Madame Oculus turned back to Agnes.
"Agnes…" Agnes met Madame Oculus' gaze, and the disappointment in her eyes made Agnes feel horrible. "What have I said about using our powers?"
Sniffing, Agnes blinked quickly to clear the tears. "I'm sorry… I was just trying to protect Kricketot…"
"I understand that," Madame Oculus said gently, kneeling on the floor next to Agnes. "But we don't use our powers unless we absolutely have to, dear. You know that."
"I… I couldn't think, Madame Oculus," Agnes sniffed. "I know that's not an excuse, but my vision was going white… I always have white vision when I can't think."
Madame Oculus patted Agnes on the back and pulled her into a hug. "I know, dear. It's an unfortunate side effect of your species. But it means something to me."
"What?" Agnes asked. Madame Oculus, she thought, smelled nice. She wished she could stay in Madame Oculus' safe wings forever.
"You're going to be a great Pokemon someday." Madame Oculus leaned back to look Agnes in the eye. "You're going to be even more beautiful than you are now, and you'll change many lives. Far too many Snorunt fall prey to the white vision, my dear." A small smile appeared on Madame Oculus' face. "You keep your senses. Mostly. Stay that way, my dear." Madame Oculus rubbed Agnes' head, stood, and, as she walked away, said, "you may as well laugh, master Kricketot."
Kricketot did.
Underneath the tree on the play area later that day, Agnes had her eyes closed. Kricketot was humming as he drew music notes in the dirt. Keckle, Koral, Whakky and Mary were keeping well away from the two.
"I never did say anything in thanks," Kricketot said. He drew a small flute and considered it. Then he began to draw a violin.
"It wasn't needed," Agnes murmured. She was falling asleep.
Kricketot gave a small chuckle. "It is always needed, my friend. I do not believe in failing to acknowledge favors."
"Well, then just say 'thank you.' That's all it takes," Agnes slurred.
A touch jolted her awake. Kricketot was holding her by the hand.
"What are you doing?" Agnes asked, panicking slightly at the contact.
"Saying my thanks," Kricketot explained. He reached behind him and pulled out a shiny, yellowish stone. He put it in Agnes' hand and pulled his own away.
Agnes examined the stone. It was about the length of her pencil, yellow like a watery sun, and shimmering with what she thought was power. She looked at Kricketot, who was working on his violin drawing again.
"What is it?"
Kricketot looked up momentarily. "A dawn stone," he said. He turned back to his drawing and frowned. "I cannot get this violin correct."
Agnes gasped. "A… dawn stone? But… that's rare!" Agnes began to blush. "You really think I should evolve into a Froslass?"
Kricketot was absorbed in his drawing, so Agnes had to repeat the question. He responded the second time she asked. "I do."
Agnes thought about it. Sure, she wanted to be a Froslass. Froslass were so much prettier and far more graceful than Glalie were. But… everyone else in her family was a Glalie. Could she do it?
"Thank you…" she murmured. "But I can't take this." She held the dawn stone out to Kricketot.
Kricketot looked up and shook his head. "Of course you can, my friend. It is your choice."
"Everyone in my family is a Glalie, though," she said sadly. "I can't be a Froslass…"
"Yes, you can." Kricketot put his hand on the dawn stone and pushed her hand back toward her. "You may not evolve right away, but you can be anything you want to be. You can be a Froslass, my friend."
Agnes looked down at the dawn stone. Her eyes watered.
"Keep it, my friend. You may need it," Kricketot finished. He patted Agnes' hand and went back to his drawing.
"I will," Agnes whispered.
The next day, Agnes showed up at school with a wrapped package. Keckle and Koral teased her about her 'boyfriend,' but Agnes ignored them and pushed away the white vision. She marched into the classroom and to her table, where Kricketot sat with a piece of paper. Agnes absently registered that he was drawing a violin again before she put the package in front of him.
Kricketot started. "What is this, my friend?" he asked as he examined the package.
"It's for you. Open it," Agnes said.
Kricketot blinked. "But… I have done nothing for you to warrant this. I cannot take it."
Agnes smirked. "I said I couldn't take the dawn stone, but you made me keep it. I'm making you take this package."
"I suppose that if I do not, you will not be my friend anymore." Kricketot quirked an antenna at Agnes.
"That is correct, Kricketot," Agnes confirmed. "So you had better open it while I'm still being patient."
Kricketot smiled as he carefully slit the paper. He pulled the paper off in a single sheet, folded it, and put in on the table. Agnes rolled her eyes at his actions. Beneath the paper was a box, and as Kricketot opened it, he gasped.
Inside the paper was a cello.
Eyes filling to the brim with tears, Kricketot looked up at Agnes. "This is a Krickotarius cello… Where did you find such an instrument? Pokemon pay millions for instruments of this quality."
Agnes shrugged. "I asked my parents if I could buy a cello for a friend. They exchanged a look and got this box out of our basement. They said that I might as well give it to someone, since no one in the family seemed ready to use it."
Kricketot stroked the cello. It was too big for him, but he pulled it out anyway and set it against his chair. He took the bow and gingerly put it on the strings. At that moment, a calm settled over him, he closed his eyes, and he began to play.
Music filled the classroom. It was the most beautiful music Agnes had ever heard. It silenced Keckle and Koral in their chatter, stunned Whakky and Mary, and floated out of the window. Madame Oculus stopped in her tracks as she entered the classroom.
The music slowly died, and as it did so the classroom returned to its normal raucous state. Kricketot smiled as he sat, tears streaming down his face.
"Thank you, my friend. I will treasure this gift for as long as I live."
Agnes felt warmth flow up her cheeks. "Well… okay. Wonderful!"
At recess, Kricketot sought out Agnes. She was leaning against the tree, eyes closed. She had come to think of the tree as her tree. Well, hers and Kricketot's tree.
He cleared his throat quietly. "My friend, may I join you?"
Agnes opened one eye. "Since when have you had to ask?"
Kricketot shrugged lopsidedly. "Your gift was unexpected, and so I began to wonder whether there was some sort of emotion behind it."
Agnes opened both eyes as she tried to digest what Kricketot meant. When it became clear, she gasped. "Oh! Oh, no! I didn't mean it like that! I just saw you drawing violins, and you said you wanted to write music, so it was a gift. And…" Agnes trailed off.
Kricketot cocked his head to the side. "And what, my friend?"
"And I wanted to repay you for your gift," she murmured. Kricketot sat beside her.
"It was no trouble, your gift," he said. "But your gift was grand, and I thank you for it."
The dawn stone was far grander, Agnes thought. "Well, you're welcome. I expect you to become famous with it."
"Why would I want to become famous with it?" Kricketot asked.
Agnes started. "Don't you want to compose symphonies? Don't you want to be a…" Agnes grasped for the right word. "A household name?"
Kricketot chuckled as he realized what she meant. "It would not be the same with a cello, my friend."
"And that's another thing!" Agnes exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "You don't want to be famous, and you won't call me by my name!"
"I was under the impression that you did not like your name," Kricketot said, confusion evident in his tone.
"I don't. I hate the name 'Agnes.' I don't want to be named after some old maid!" Agnes took a few deep breaths. "But I want to be called something other than 'my friend.' I feel almost… nonexistent."
"I did not mean to make you feel that way. I simply knew that you did not like your name, and so I refused to call you by it." Kricketot nodded in thought. "I have been trying to think of a better name for you. One that matches your beauty and grace and kindness."
Agnes flushed red.
"I think, however, that I have finally thought of a better name." Kricketot bent and wrote, with difficulty, seven letters in the dirt. O-c-t-a-v-i-a.
Kricketot sat back, beaming at the word in the dirt. "Octavia. I think that is a far better name for you."
Agnes studied the name. Octavia…
"And I do not want to be famous with my cello," Kricketot continued as Agnes looked at the name scrawled in the dirt. "I want to be famous with my best friend."
Octavia… Agnes looked up at Kricketot, who had fallen silent. The corner of her mouth turned up.
"I love it, Kricketot. Octavia…" Agnes nodded excitedly. "That's my name… my true name. Thank you, Kricketot."
Octavia leaned over to Kricketot and hugged him. She didn't notice him blush bright red.
Maybe… maybe I can be something more than an old maid Glalie… Yes… I can be what Kricketot sees me as. Wow… Octavia… Octavia the Froslass… And it's because of you… Master Kricketot.
The world didn't seem so bad- or so sad- anymore.