Drowning in Sand
A pokemon fanfiction by Nocturne of Eclipse
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or any related characters.
Summary: The life and times of a Team Magma Admin. Follow Tabitha as he strikes off on his own to find friends, fortune, love, and the most difficult thing to find of all: self-acceptance. Set in the RSE gameverse with some crossover to Pokemon Special and the anime. Elements of ORAS will be used in later chapters. Rating is M for gore, violence, death, sexual themes, and sensitive subject materials, among other things.
Note: Haters gonna hate, but I don't like the new redesigns. Or, well, let me rephrase: I actually love the redesigns, but I hate that they're redesigns. The Magma and Aqua admins had distinctive and canon appearances, and the redesigns, in my opinion, should be considered different characters—therefore I will be using the original RSE designs of many characters, including anyone and everyone involved in Magma or Aqua. Don't worry, though; I'll work the ORAS versions of the characters in, eventually, so if that's what you're interested in, stay tuned.
The man in front of him was, for lack of a better term, one of the dirtiest wretches he had ever seen. Geoffery tried to smile and tried to be polite but there was only so much of the smell he could take; it was obvious the man had seen far better days, yet there he sat on the other side of the table with his scruffy, unkept hair, sallow skin, and the weariest green eyes he'd seen that year—maybe even that decade. He smelled like ten different kinds of cheap booze and piss, and Geoff was certain his threadbare clothes were stained with both. He didn't know what possessed him to invite the man into the diner, despite the disparaging looks Betty gave him. She was a sweetheart, though, she was used to Geoff bringing the strangest of people into her business, sitting them down in his booth in the corner and talking with them. Talking and learning, because there was always a story to everything. Hell, most of the time there were three or four stories, and it just depended on the view you decided to look through. As an author, Geoff knew that well enough—and he knew the best stories always came from the heart of the action. It had been five years since the battle that had torn through Sootopolis like tissue paper, and the events surrounding it were hardly news: the brave young heroes fighting the eco-terrorists that threatened to destroy the earth. It had been covered a million and one times.
Geoff was quite sure, however, that it had never been covered from this particular angle. This man, this single, homeless young man was going to be the key to his next bestselling book: The Magma Manifesto. A little cliche, perhaps, but it was bound to be a seller. People just had this morbid sense of curiosity; it was why the news was nothing but rape and murder and everything bad in the world. If you showed them why a bad guy did what they did, they would gobble it up, all the while spitting and hissing and crying. It was going to be good. Hell, maybe even New York Times–worthy. And so Geoff had invited this young man off the street and into the diner, likely the first positive bit of attention the man had experienced since that horrific tragedy so long ago. The man, himself, however seemed to smile despite his situation, despite everything. Hoenn hadn't been kind to him after the disbandment of Team Magma, and for the life of him, Geoff couldn't understand how the other man could still smile so brightly, even for the simple prospect of a free lunch. Still, he was patient, and he smiled apologetically as Betty took the man's order (it was far more modest than Geoff had been prepared for, just a turkey burger and a beer) and the other man settled himself in.
"Been years since I been te a place this nice," the man mused, his voice thick and heavy with an Irish accent. He must have been from Mossdeep, Geoff decided; he didn't know of many Irish families that had moved into the mainland, and honestly, he figured it made for a better story, that way as the rivalry between Mossdeep and Sootopolis wasn't exactly a secret. "Think the last time I got te eat out was jes' after errythin' went te shit."
"Before they found you at the hospital?" Geoff pressed, and the man nodded, laughing awkwardly.
"Yeah, that'd be it. That night was a right bitch, woulde been more careful if I'd known half o' what I'd be gettin' meself inte." Betty came back over with their drinks, and the man's face lit up as if Christmas had come early, thanking her profusely before he tossed his head back and took a good, long chug. When he placed the bottle back on the table, Geoff could see it was over half empty, and vaguely he recalled the news article the week they found the man in the hospital- alcohol poisoning, the article had said. Geoff started to wonder just what he had gotten his wallet into. Resigning himself to his mission, he took a sip of his lemonade. Maybe he'd ask Betty for a little umbrella to put in it, later. Little umbrellas always made him feel better. With that in mind, he reached nonchalantly into his pocket and pressed the record button on his audio recorder.
"So," Geoff said, "I'm curious," and the man's gaze left the TV wedged into the corner of the diner to focus back on Geoff. His smile was very disarming, but invited Geoff's questions with a sort of childlike curiosity that he never would have expected from someone the general population of Hoenn would consider a hardened criminal. It was a moment before Geoff continued. "How did someone like yourself even join Team Magma?"
"Really?" the man asked, laughing, "that's yer first question? Mate, I may be on the streets, but even I got the sense te ask a man's name."
"I already know who you are," Geoff pointed out, "all of Hoenn knows who you are. It's not such a big secret."
"See, there's yer problem, right there," the man disagreed, "ye ain't know shit. Ye think ye do, but ye really don'. Ye know what I did, an' even then, that only scratches the surface. Ye ask a man's name bifer ye ask anythin' else." Geoff should have known this would be far easier planned than done.
"Alright, then. What's your name?"
The man leaned forward over the table, and for a second Geoff wondered if he had made a terrible, terrible mistake, but the man merely extended his hand. "Tabitha Shrier," the man introduced himself, "an' yerself, fella?" Hesitantly, Geoff reached out to shake Tabitha's hand.
"I'm Geoffery Lund," he answered, "and it's good to meet you, Tabitha Shrier. Now, will you answer my question?" The man laughed again and settled back into his seat, a lopsided grin taking over his face, the impish expression saying nothing more than weeelllll, if you really wanna knooowwww. Arceus Almighty, Geoff could feel the headache coming on, already. A second more, however, and Tabitha began to speak.
This was going to be interesting.