Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life
Written by the Sapphire Prince
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Previously on L. F. A:
The gentle creature, Mr. Skyler, called on Miss Rosamunde Fierra. The two participated in a pokemon battle where no winner was determined. He cordially invited our heroine to his home at Sandalwood, a handsome estate where she became acquainted with the lovely Miss Charlene and his aunt and uncle. While talking about politics, a doorman announced that Mr. Chadwick Jones had just arrived. Then, the mysterious young man made his debut...
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Chapter Two
Silence¾this is what was displayed in the room as the tall man stood in the doorway. Everyone who happened to be sitting stood up in respect, as custom urges, and the men bowed as the ladies curtseyed. Then, Mr. Jones himself bowed in acknowledgement to their gestures and was promptly seated in the chair beside Skyler.
Mr. Jones looked at his hosts and hostesses and smiled a slight, wintry smile. It was a cool smile. An icy smile. It did reveal any of his personality to be sure, however, it made it seem as though he were hiding something. He decided to speak; therefore, he said, "good evening to you all. How are you all fairing on this beautiful evening?"
"Fine," they all replied.
"It is truly a pleasure that you have decided to dine with us Mr. Jones. With you being so busy, I am rather delighted that you've decided to take some time in order to spend it with us. Have you any previous engagements?" asked Mrs. Skyler with a polite smile and raising of her arched eyebrows.
"None that were too important to be sure. It was a trifle; only a visit to the Somerset Palace on Passion Fruit Island with her Majesty and Prince Burke, which I could visit the next time that they go," said Mr. Jones after placing his glass onto the white tablecloth.
"Ah," said Mr. Skyler, "I understand."
A butler came into the room with a tray full of covered metal dishes and placed them in front of each person. Then, in a chain reaction did each person uncover the lid that revealed the appetizer. Each person ate them steadily, not too quick yet not dreadfully slow.
"Do tell me Mr. Jones," said Charlene after placing a silver fork onto the side of the decorated china plate, "when have you last performed for an audience?"
Mr. Jones looked over at Charlene. No feeling could be traced in his eyes much to her dismay, for she had loved him for many days, which amounts to weeks, that amounts to months, and ends at perhaps a year. Yes! She had loved him for a little more than a year and she received no signal that he felt the same feeling as she: love, complete and utter admiration. The type of love she felt was the love that oh so many people pray for when they marry.
"I performed at the Pump Room at Coconut Square just last night Miss Skyler," he said civilly.
"I am certain that you played excellently, just as you always do," she said with a flirtatious grin. Charlene figured that if she flirted with him and emphasized all of those things which are intended to make men go mad—in example: the batting of one's eyes, one's figure, one's smile, one's elasticity in her step—then, Chadwick would notice her more.
And why, you must be wondering, is our heroine not saying anything. I wonder...perhaps she is mesmerized by this pronounced "beau" or she is busy observing the behavior of the others, without taking heed to her own. The latter would be the most correct for she had decided right then and there that she would no longer be interested in Mr. Jones because she hoped that she could be Charlene's friend: a confidante. What Rosamunde did not take heed to is the fact that she had a large smile on her face and that her cheeks were tinged with scarlet, like the way a red liquid is when it is in water: gradually filling the space up with its color. Charlene noticed and her heart panged with anger and jealousy; over what, one cannot be sure but Charlene herself; love makes one act this way.
"I presume that you must be Miss Rosamunde Fierra," said Mr. Jones, "my friend, Prince Burke has long since told me of you."
"I hope that what he has said about me were good things but I would not care nonetheless if they were not. The Prince is not exactly my cup of tea; his haughty behavior is very disagreeable."
Mr. Jones smiled as he said, "he told me of that also."
Letting her competitive nature take over her psyche Rosie looked up from her drink, narrowed her eyes, and a fiery tone was conspicuous in her voice when she asked, "Prince Burke told you of what? I am very eager to know." Then, while waiting for his response, she eyed her long, sharp fingernails that glistened in the light.
"He told me that you are a regular tigress, but that you are an interesting one indeed," he said with a deep chuckle. "I hope that that has not offended you, for I would not want to perish under the wrath of those claws."
Everyone laughed at his joke and Charlene laughed harder than the rest; however, nobody dared to stare at her for they knew why she acted this way.
Rosamunde giggled warm-heartedly. But in all actuality, she was fuming inside. He had gotten the best of her in spite of her attempt to stay cool, calm, and collected. This was just like the old days, while pokemon training: she would lose her temper and do something reckless, like slap someone. No matter how hard she tried, she just could not abandon her temper. It always found a way to resurface. But, this time she would just wear her smile as a shield or a mask. That way, nobody would know what was truly going happening.
"Many have," she joked, which made everyone laugh once more.
"Is there any news from the Queen about any new tournaments for the trainers? I am ready for another pokemon match; it would be a capital time indeed," said Skyler as he quickly changed the subject. He had witnessed what seemed to be flirting between two friends of his—one whom he had been friends with for a long time and one whom he ardently desired—and was not exactly happy that he had.
Mr. Jones delicately rubbed the dark hairs on his strong chin in an effort to try to remember if he had, when suddenly his eyes brightened and he said, "in a fortnight there is supposed to be a tournament for the trainers of Coconut Island."
"And what ensues when one wins this match?" asked Mrs. Skyler.
"From what I can recall, I believe that there is a men's division and a women's division. Whoever happens to win will be granted to the title of a baron or a baroness, without the complications of marriage, for we all know that Queen Grace loves the idea of an independent woman."
Rosie gasped in excitement, for this is one of the things that she, along with a lot of other young girls, dreamed of. If she could not be a princess then she would gladly settle for being a baroness even if it happened to be the lowest rank in the nobility. Oh! Lady Rosamunde...that has such a pleasant sound, or perhaps Lady Fierra—no! I like Lady Rosamunde much better, for my last name could change into something else at any moment.
"Are there any special specifications?" asked Rosie eagerly.
"One must carry a fire type, a water type, and a grass type. Yes, those are the rules," he said. "Do you believe that you could win the title Miss Fierra and Miss Skyler?"
"Definitely," they both said at the exact same moment.
"I hope that you are a good pokemon duelist, for I am a formidable opponent in the ring," said Charlene with a smile. She had a hidden agenda implanted in her brain. She thought that if she could win the title, then she would look more worthy in Chadwick's eyes.
"I do try my best at all times, for there is always a possibility for anyone to win a tournament. The chance of winning might differ from pokemon to pokemon, however, I prefer to think of the chance as always being 50%. For pokemon are very capable of turning the tables at any given moment," said Rosie.
"Well put Miss Fierra," Mr. Skyler exclaimed.
"I agree," said Mrs. Skyler.
"Do tell me this, what also comes with the title?" asked Skyler.
"There is a prize of about one 100,000 petals I believe—but one cannot be certain all of the time—"
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"I choose you Sparky," said Rosie as she threw out the magical sphere, which contained the vibrant Elekid.
Sparky had never evolved. Although he was very close one time but he decided that he preferred to be a small Elekid than a "big" and "fat" Electabuzz that made those nasty grunts. His fur was yellow, like goldenrod, and he had black stripes, like coal; his eyes were green, like emeralds, and electricity sparked and crackled all around his body. His eyes were attentive; he appraised his opponent and looked for any possible weakness.
The girl, of about fourteen, had a Wigglytuff that was already fuming to battle. Its aqua eyes were lit and its body inflated; the two small arms were poised like lethal weapons and there was an inconspicuous grumble: for it was ready to sing if necessary.
"Wiggly, do a double-slap attack!"
The pokemon leapt into action, creating a wave of slaps with those small arms. The intensity of the attack and the speed of his opponent surprised Sparky. He was slapped to the ground by Wigglytuff; however, by no means was he finished with. The game had just begun.
"Sparky, use thunder-shock!"
Sparky bounded back a few paces to escape the blows of the opponent. His plug-like head fizzled with energy and yellow electricity quickly touched the arms of the beast when it was blasted back a few feet. Electricity soared through its arms and it could do nothing but shriek in pain.
"Sing to it Wiggly; sing!" exclaimed the girl.
Unfortunately, Wiggly could not muster up the patience to sing for it was still much to perplexed about the former blow. It stuttered out notes and they were all flat and not at all beautiful or enchanting.
"We have this now my friend. Finish her off with a tackle attack!"
Sparky pawed at the ground before sprinting to his victim. He rammed it with all of his might in an effort to weaken it to the point at which it could battle no more. He succeeded. Wiggly cried in pain as it was lifted off the ground and it fell into her trainer's arms.
"Oh Wiggly," she cried, "you tried—you really did—but she's much to experienced for us. Let's go home now."
The loss not only affected the girl but Rosamunde also. A pang of guilt beat at her heart. Losing was incredibly disagreeable, especially when one's hopes are very high. Rosie said, "take this," as she produced a small brown capsule from her purse, "it is a potion capsule. It will heal your pokemon to good health, but it will not heal its spirit; that is your job."
"Thank you Miss," said the girl as she walked away, smiling. Advice should always be graciously accepted when it comes from a more experienced person.
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The tea was warm, yet cool. The fire was comforting, yet annoying. The candles were bright, yet dull. The atmosphere was not perfect, yet it was satisfactory. It could have been better but it wasn't. Luckily, Rosie had her friends and her pokemon as companions.
Rochelle and Hannah had all been invited to stay a day or so at Rosewood, for Hannah was soon to be sent back to Star fruit Island to be with her fiancé and his grandfather. They needed to make preparations for the wedding ceremony that was to take place in a matter of one month and Hannah was very excited and it was all that she could talk of.
"I am so happy," she said, "my Joshua is going to make the perfect husband."
It was Rochelle's and Rosie's humble duty as friends to do nothing but agree with her on the subject of her Joshua; and they performed this duty rather well by saying things such as: "oh yes, I heartily agree," or, "I wish that I will have as great a fortune as you to meet a man like Joshua," or perhaps, "I am quite envious of your happiness".
"Yes," said Rika, "he shall."
"I hope that you'll meet someone like him Rosie. If only you were in love—it would be such a magical thing; do not you agree Rochelle?"
"I do. Yet, I also wish that I were in love with someone. Would that magical as well?" asked Rika in order to see Hannah's expression.
"To be sure."
"Why Rosamunde, do you not try to meet a variety of men, like Rochelle. This is the only way to find a husband, unless you were to have possessed the type of luck that has been bestowed on me."
"If it is meant to be then it shall happen regardless of whether I search for it by acting like a fool and flirting to my heart's content, or if my prince finds me first."
"How do you expect to find someone if you do not make an effort?"
"What is the rush," said Rosie with a shrug of her shoulders, "I am but twenty-two."
"Beauty in not eternal and so is fertility," said Hannah in a low voice.
"Fools are always the ones who fall in love," muttered Rosie, "mental
beauty is eternal; but physical beauty is not. I want to be loved for my personality, my ability to love, and my intelligence: my je ne sais quoi. You make everything sound so superficial Hannah."
Hannah gasped in shock. "Your words sting very well Rosie. You know how to make someone feel bad—maybe that is your problem."
"My problem," said Rosie as she hopped off of her bed. Ellie gently leapt upon her shoulder and whispered, No. Rosie replied, "No, Ellie; I cannot. What problem?"
Hannah stood back up, for she never usually backed down from a confrontation also in spite of her delicate demeanor. "You are scared Rosie. You are scared of finding someone that you really might like and be able to love and who feels the same way."
"I am not," she heatedly replied.
"Yes; you are. And you do not want to face it. If you are not, then why do you pretend to not notice potential suitors when they call on you, be your acquaintance long or short?"
"Skyler is not a suitor, nor will he ever be one. He is just a friend from the University."
"How do you know?"
"I just do!" she yelled.
"Stop it," cried Rochelle while going in between them and pushing them away, "stop arguing over such nonsense. It's all petty and dumb. Accept it Hannah, love works in different ways and Rosie doesn't want your comments. It's hard enough hearing you ramble on and on about Joshua, so leave her alone. Come on, let's just leave her alone until tomorrow Hannah," and then, grabbing her, Rika pulled her out of the room and closed the door.
Rosie sighed and looked at Eleanor's large black eyes that were downcast. She snuffed out the candles and fell unto her bed. She cried...
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The next morning, Rosie decided to dedicate the day in bathing and grooming her pokemon. Therefore, she changed into her bathing suit, which was comparable to a modern one piece (A/N: the showing of a Florienne's legs was acceptable for swimming is very popular; but in places such as Johto and Kanto, it was absolutely forbidden). A large wooden tub was placed conveniently under a shady willow whose leave planted a light kiss on the surface of their private lake. She filled the tub with many gallons of the fresh water from the lake, which was amazingly clean and good enough to drink, and used a sweet smelling soap, made from coconut acids and fats along with many other moisturizers and exfoliates, to fill it with bubbles. White, soapy bubbles soon rose higher than the water itself and thanks to the convenience of a fire beneath, the water was just right: just a bit warmer than lukewarm.
Now Rosie owned many pokemon, which means that she would be doing a lot of filling and refilling, so she decided to diminish the usual time by one half; therefore, two pokemon at once would be adequate. First, there was, of course, Ellie and Dew, who were some of the smallest, and easiest, pokemon to wash; for Dew is a water pokemon, which basically means that he takes a bath whenever he swims. So, in other words, washing him was pointless, but it is one of those situations where someone did something for the sake of doing it. Next was Vanilla and Crimson, whom has grown quite immune to water due to the years of training, and so on and so forth until the only pokemon left was, Elizabeth, who was practically the largest, with Excalibur (?), the Scizor, being the largest. Once everyone was complete, she toweled him or her down with fluffy, white terry cloth until the each smelled fresh and they were each content.
"I have some news for you all," said Rosamunde as she pulled her loose hairs back into a messy ponytail.
What is it? asked each of the pokemon. Most news was good news for them; however, some news was bad news. And the pokemon hoped dearly that it would be good news. Besides, who likes bad news?
"I am entering a tournament in about thirteen days."
What type of tournament?
"A very important one that could possibly change my lifestyle and my future," she said.
The pokemon each looked at one another. This must be really good news they assumed, for Rosamunde had no gloomy tone, no shady look, and now unusual body movements. This is how the pokemon knew how their trainer was really feeling. Actions speak louder than words is what they learned to follow over the years. And Rosie is not the one to vocalize her troubles and her true feelings.
"The winners each earn a place in the Florien nobility: they each receive a baronetcy and possibly 100,000 petals!"
This is fabulous news! exclaimed Ellie, for she had not been present at the dinner table when Mr. Jones had mentioned this. She had been away, with her pokemon friends, enjoying the independence bestowed upon her by her trainer.
"I suppose that it is," she said, then with a pout she said "I am afraid of what it might make me become."
What ever could you mean? asked Dew.
"Money and a title can make a person's complaisance change rather drastically and I do not please to be a haughty individual. An individual whose sheer happiness is making the lives of the peoples of the lower classes a living hell!"
Hush Rosie! said Crimson. You have made many false and blind perceptions. Whatever led you to these conclusions should be vanquished from your mind completely, for they are wholly unsatisfactory. You should know that members of the Florien aristocracy are some of the most well-rounded, good-natured peoples in the world. We are not in another country or on Earth, where pride appears to allow people the right to torment others. No! We are in Flora on the planet of Celeste! And the term celestial means heavenly and beautiful and peaceful, which is what we Floriens and Floriennes are. As with any country, we have our disagreements with the other countries and we may have our battles, but we rarely kill. Think about it Rosamunde, if someone chooses to be proud, then that is his or her decision, which means that if you became proud, then it would be because of your decision!
Everyone was amazed at Crimson's heartfelt speech. It was amazing and completely unexpected. It amazed Rosie the most and she realized how foolish she could be. Money doesn't force people to act a certain way. A person acts that way because he/she believes that it is just and expected of them. So when a person blames a petty objects for behaving their behavior, then they are wrong; for the only reason that they behaved that way is because they were weak enough to allow the object to change them: which is incredibly human. As a result, Rosamunde Fierra vowed, as of then, to not allow an inanimate entity to change her way of thinking, her morals, and most of all, her je ne sais quoi...
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So what is it that you gathered from this chapter? That Rosie is not such a super-being? That she has insecurities? That she is human just like everyone else and that she can make something out of nothing? It takes a long time for a person to reach mental maturity, whereas physical maturity can take place in thirteen years. —The Sapphire Prince
P.S.: Next on L.F.A: the battles begin!