Sometimes it's nice to have downtime.
If only I felt more confident in writing said scenes to do them more often.
Sometimes, it was difficult to remember that once upon a time he was like those children. That his tactics weren't as complex; orders weren't given in specific patterns or frequencies. That he was once a duelist and not a siege machine.
In this plain room, a simple field of compacted dirt devoid of any elevated terrain, skill and knowledge were distilled down to their most purest form. There were no plumes of dirt continuously exploding into the air and blocking vision; no trees or boulders used for cover. It was simply paw against paw, projectile against projectile, blade against blade. The distinct sound of sharpened water clashing against water rang out once again, breaking through the din of combat that otherwise blended together into one continuous note.
While not quite holding back, it was undeniable that Moia wasn't using his full power. Neither was Morgan, but considering that only Celèste could give the greninja a run for his money in a knife fight, it was understandable.
Whirling around once more in a tightly constrained ball, Morgan's water covered tail slapped against one of Moia's knives, a short jet of water shooting out from the vaporeon's mouth and knocking aside the other blade as he completed the spin. The instant his hindlegs touched the ground, Morgan's form split apart into three streams, each spiralling vortex arcing away from Moia. The greninja stared stoically for naught but a moment, disappearing in an advancing blur of overlapping after images.
The clone on Moia's left disappeared under a storm of projectiles, globs of water shorn away like liquid filled balloons being popped by violently fired needles. The surviving two, now facing Moia head on with mirrored expressions of annoyance, had their line of sight blocked by twin beams of ice, the streams sharply shooting up from their initial contact with the ground and forming wide pillars.
Alex let out a soft huff, turning away from the dueling Water types. Moia was stoic as ever, beating back Morgan's grandstandings with tiny nicks from his water knives. He was thankful for the reminders though; sparring against the children the past few weeks had gotten to the vaporeon's head, and as entertaining as the maneuvers were, in a proper battle they would only have led to crippling blows.
Frankly he was surprised Umbral hadn't ended up the same way. Even with their weekly battles, constantly 'dodging' weak, novice level projectiles could only serve to dulling reflexes, yet somehow the misdreavus was perfectly dodging each of the projectiles Caitlyn and Deus threw at her. Granted they were limited to one angle of attack per projectile, but to be able to navigate through the onslaught with only the occasional diverting attack or Protect? For not the last time, he wondered if he should put in the effort of finding a dusk stone for Umbral, rather than accepting her patient ambivalence on the matter of evolution.
A roar of water made him sigh, though nothing else beyond turning back around to watch. At the start of the session he'd explicitly said no moves that would heavily alter the terrain, yet here they were, Hydro Pumps tearing across the area and leaving behind great gouges in the packed dirt.
Moia unflinchingly met the attack in kind, diverting the attacks away with precise applications of Psychic energy before stealing one last gush and disappearing into it as the collected water surged forth, the wave rolling across the field towards a singular point. Right as the swell started to die down, both Moia and Morgan leapt out of the body of water, narrowly concentrated stoicism staring back at budding irritation.
Alex let out a sharp whistle, huffing once again. "Tone it down you two. Remember you're meant to be limiting yourselves to urban combat, let loose another day."
/ - /
Moments like these were what made all the late nights worth it. To have pushed onwards that extra hour or two for weeks, chipping away at the undying beast that was paper work, all to earn an hour's reprieve. June sighed contently, nuzzling her cheek against Alex's head. Fiara had been scouting parks ever since she'd been posted here, and only last week did the ledian confirm which place they'd have the most amount of privacy.
Not for anything that would land them with indecent exposure or worse, but simply for the ability to let their full teams and enjoy the chilly winter day. That Caitlyn and the missing Celèste's habit of wearing hand picked accessories had spread to the others did nothing more than help the mood, making it feel as if they were on a proper family outing. As concerns of their current project sprouted in her mind, June let out a long, quiet breath, rubbing her thumb along the side of Alex's forefinger.
Enjoy the peace and quiet, she thought to herself. A loud cry from Morgan, playing an unenhanced game of tag with Gwydion and Hati, brought a smile to her face. Quiet being a relative term, of course. No beeping devices, no clacks of heels along a tiled floor; no gentle scritching of pens against paper or taps of a keyboard; just the soft breathing of her partner, their sometimes protectors-sometimes children scattered around them, relaxed beyond the point of safety.
Alex's hand, held loosely under hers, flexed slightly against her thigh. The man shifted, kissing her on the cheek a single time before moving back to his previous position as if nothing had ever happened.
She chuckled breathlessly. When had he picked up on her breathing habits? Was it the bi-monthly phone calls where they often did nothing more than listen to the other work? Bouncing the occasional idea off each other? Was it that time they were stuck in that Yveltal-damned desert? Had he realized her ticks during his time spent at her apartment back in Kalos?
"Alex?" She whispered quietly, unwilling yet so desirous to rouse him from his slumber. She smiled as he sleepily looked up, an unspoken question in his eyes. She did not say a word as she pressed her lips against his, save for the tensing of her hand, fingers curled up in his. An action he so readily reciprocated; a bond unbreakable by any outside force, only splitting if one side pulled away.
Yes, moments like these made it all worth it.
/ - /
Jasmine groaned quietly as she looked between the two beanies. The last time she'd talked to her sister, Geneva had been rambling excitedly over how both Hilda of Unova and Leon of Galar were 'the year's most popular Champions', and how in their most recent matches they'd gone all out, leading to yet another online discussion about who was truly the strongest Trainer.
With Leon having almost a decade long win streak, even if he hadn't been part of the last World Tournament a few years back, it was widely believed that he was the strongest in the world.
Not that it didn't stop Geneva from listing all the ways Hilda might win. With a primary team of Ice types and a large amount of options for the rest of her slots, she supposedly held the advantage against Leon.
But as Alex pointed out every time she brought up the subject about his regional Champion, Hilda needed time to get into the groove, and while her team was used to working in the conditions of hail, it didn't change the fact that only a portion of them could operate normally. If continuing to use one of her specialty would have been unfavorable, it would cause a jarring interruption in her battle flow. She could recover, of course, but it was far easier to let a snowstorm gather momentum rather than constantly letting it ebb and flow. 'Much like Sandstorm', he would always add.
Groaning once more, Jasmine took another hard look at the beanies. The purple one had a single pattern of a charizard's tail flame on it, while the pink one had a white outline of a jagged, tri-pointed ice shard in the same spot.
Pink or purple? Pink or purple?
"Yo, Estelle?"
"Pink one. It stands out more and goes better with your skin color. Unless you're trying to hide when you wear that, in which case..."
Skin color? Jasmine mouthed, turning an arm to stare at the underside. She had been spending much more time in the sun, but when you were a pale white like she was, all it did was make you the right side of 'healthy', not 'lab white' like the more studious kids back at Millennium tended to be. A moment later, Estelle thrusted an unzippered hoodie towards her, one she could tell without even putting on was a size too small.
"Don't zip it up, it'll work better that way. You can use either your jeans or slacks for that outfit. Oh, and any of your tees underneath will work too." Estelle smiled the entire time she spoke, a small hint of what she'd come to figure out meant 'I know something you don't' on her face.
"Uh, thanks." In the end, she'd gotten both beanies, keeping the Leon one for herself. Beanies weren't really her thing, but Estelle had shown far too much interest in crafting an outfit that not taking felt like a bad idea. Seriously, despite being from backwater Orre, the girl was a total natural for fashion. Makeup too, if those nights she came back late to see Estelle practicing- 'experimenting!'- in front of her phone with the camera on meant anything.
"You girls find everything?" Julien looked up as they approached, Estelle's footsteps becoming markedly louder once they entered standard Sand-Attack range.
Jasmine froze in place as she repeated that line of thought. Standard Sand-Attack range? Suicune's Farts, was she seriously thinking in battle terms now? First she picked up the slang from the students she was shadowing at Millenium U, now she was becoming a battle nut like Alex? Not that there was anything wrong with either, of course, but she very much liked being who she was and not some silly ditto and-
She took a deep breath and clapped her cheeks twice. Focus on the situation at hand. Getting lost in her thoughts would only serve to a faster loss.
When Jasmine took a look at her surroundings, she realized that both Julien and Estelle were staring at her, her fellow partner-in-crime with far more amusement than she was comfortable with.
"Back with us, Jasmine?"
"Mm." She nodded, fighting back the blush on her face.
"Okay, so now that we're all grounded in reality and not lost in fiction-"
"Julien, you're always lost in fiction."
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Estelle; it's called finding the beauty in life."
"It's called being an old man."
"Jasmine, help me out here?"
Jasmine raised her hands in surrender, the latest of her purchases resting in the crook of her thumbs. "I learned week one that verbally sparring against Estelle is the equivalent of reaching the peak of Mount Silver. Maybe one day, but not today."
"Eventually you'll be able to trade blows with me. Maybe once you have an actual conversation with Alex-"
"Estelle!" She squeaked. The Orrite smirked and crossed her arms. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Julien start to open his mouth questioningly. "And no! I will not talk about it! And neither will she! Ugh, let's just drop these off and get lunch already!" Not letting the other two have a say in the matter, Jasmine began marching off, mentally tearing into the fictitious Estelle in her head.
Not that she would ever have done so in reality. Despite all her faults, Estelle could be an astoundingly mature person, and she often found herself turning to the other girl for help with various matters. For not the first time, Jasmine noticed a streak of sadness shoot through her at the realization that Estelle must have gone through a great many things back in Orre.
It was only once they got off the bus that Jasmine started talking to the other two again, adding her thoughts to the random discussion about which energy drink they would hypothetically prefer. As trainers, disturbing their bodies with such a heavy jolt of sugar and caffeine was far from ideal (let alone the morality of letting teens down cans of energy drinks; Alex's words, not theirs), but sometimes you just needed to have a little something extra to work through a study project.
With parting words of fifteen minutes to be back downstairs, Jasmine happily placed her bags at her bedside before falling down on it, uncaring of how unsightly she must have seemed. Truly, the blessings of having an Orrite as your best friend were plenty. Trusting that Estelle would rouse her when they had five minutes left, Jasmine curled up on her side, facing the pinkette- a true one, like that mystery woman from the previous night- as she scritched away at a map of her own making.
Limiting their purchases to stores that had those special display cases was frustrating, but only four stamps in and already it felt like they were on the right track. According to Estelle, at at least two of the last five stores she'd gone into, one of the employees had given either her or Julien an appraising look. They'd yet to receive one of the mythical Darkrai stamps, but considering that on more than one occasion the cashier had asked about what they were still hoping to buy before marking one of the listed stores on the back of their receipts, all three of them were hopeful for getting one eventually.
"Figure out anything?" She asked when Estelle put her pencil down.
"Other than Julien not caring about whether or not we get marked? Not a thing."
"Wha-?! Of course Julien-" Jasmine nibbled her cheek in thought. "Is this one of those Orrite things?"
"It's one of those Orrite things," she confirmed. "Eighth rule of Orre: it doesn't matter what your companions are picking up, you never leave them alone."
Fourteenth rule of Orre: the numbering of rules were random and could change from day to day. The commonality between every rule? Never be Alone. Amendment to Never be Alone? Only a third stage evolution counts towards Not Being Alone.
"So how did boys handle being in the women's clothing department?" She asked nervously.
"The dumb ones made jokes, blushed, and refused to look at us in the eyes until we were three stores away. The good ones paid proper attention, both at keeping a lookout and for giving us their opinions."
Fashion, it seemed, was very important in Orre. Everything had to be functional of course, but it was the little details that made you stand out. Like how many belts you wore, or how long your coattails were. For the outdoors-y folk, there was even a bit of an emphasis on how contrasting the tan of your face was compared to the untainted skin behind your sunglasses. For a place that supposedly had little in the way of natural resources, Orre's people sure seemed to be heavily materialistic.
"I'm heading downstairs."
Jasmine sat up a little, frowning at Estelle's choice of clothing. "Don't forget a jacket, 'stelle. It'll get cold later."
"We'll be back before night," she countered.
"Mhm. And what happens if something happens and we end up out late again?"
Estelle shrugged, completely uncaring of what the immediate future held. "Then we'll run. Besides, you could use the training."
At once Jasmine straightened out, hands shooting to her stomach. "Whoa, whoa, what's that supposed to mean? Estelle? Estelle!?" With only a parting open hand as her response, Jasmine stared down at herself, wondering if her friend was unhappy with her recent mile time. "That's gotta be it, right?"
/ - /
By far the most interesting thing about eating out with Estelle was the large sodas the Orrite always got. For the last few weeks she'd been working through the various uncaffeinated brands, but now she was back to the most popular one: a dark, brown-almost-black that Jasmine personally preferred the diet versions of. Estelle swore that those same variants were disgusting and an affront to soda consumers the world over, and 'as a world traveler, I should know'.
It was less that Estelle always ordered a soda before anything else and more that the cup sizes she got required the usage of both hands to safely hold. It had about the same hilarity as that one time everybody tried to eat a giant burger with one hand. Between the younger group, it was only Kurt and herself who were able to pull the feat off. In spite of her smaller hands, it was only thanks to a trick Lyn had taught her after sitting in on a training session that she had a chance.
"Mm!" Jasmine swallowed, quickly downing several sips of her drink to help the food down. "Estelle! How's training going with Reel?" Not a battle crazed junkie, she told herself.
"Decent enough. Reel's having trouble getting water to form on her tail, but building up the momentum like Morgan's been teaching her is pretty much perfect." On cue, Estelle slumped over, chin in a palm as she began grumbling quietly. Julien, as usual, misunderstood her mutterings as a lack of patience and misplaced irritability, giving her generic advice and trying to give his own hearsay input on the usage of Aqua Tail.
"Speaking of Alex," Jasmine murmured, "Isn't that his team over there?"
A vaporeon was rare, but not unusual. In certain places, neither was a gardevoir. But when the former was engaged in a high level not-quite-battle with two others and the former was chatting pleasantly with a beheeyem and what had to be a vulpine, bipedal Fire type, certain questions came to mind.
Estelle scoffed. "Found him. He's laying down on that bench all the way on the right side. Probably using that pinkette's lap as a pillow."
Her face flushed. Yes, Alex was an adult, but to do something so bold in broad daylight? He couldn't possibly have some sort of perverted orientation, could he? An elite trainer such as himself?
"We should probably leave them alone. Seems like this is a private moment for them."
"Mmhm. I'm sure your hands agree."
Jasmine glanced over at Julien. In his lap a sketchbook and pencil were already out, broad strokes of the scene before them already sketched out.
"Leaving them alone doesn't mean watching. They're in a public space," he argued, "anything they do is fair game. Isn't that what Alex always says whenever he goes off for private training with his team?"
"You know it's only private because his team goes all out, right? It's not like they practice anything super secret when I'm around. If I didn't know better, I'd say he didn't even lead any training."
The words came out of her mouth slowly, a memory sparked by their order. "Estelle, do me a favor and say that again?"
"That his team doesn't practice anything super secret around me? It's nothing bigger than certain order of moves, or moving from mark to mark. You know, things he taught us week one." Estelle frowned, flicking a fry from her towards Alex's team. "It's only 'secret' because most people wouldn't think about those orders, or the specific way any of them move while executing. Besides, none of us are interested in Fighting types, so it's not like watching them would benefit us in any way."
Jasmine bit her lip at that. With three Teleporters on his team, if Alex really wanted privacy he could have disappeared at any time, so the fact that he apparently let Estelle watch his team train? Could she sit in on their training? Would she even get anything out of it?
"Careful, Jasmine, you're thinking too hard again."
Julien pressed his lips together at the jape, though he spoke nothing of it.
That was okay. That was just the kind of person Estelle was.