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Frontier Town Founder's Square

“Intriguing’s a word for it. I’m not a huge fan, I’ve heard of two, guess it helps to have a particularly distinct name and species at the same time. They both seem to kinda suck. Can’t recommend the experience. Here’s hoping you don’t find any parallel…” He paused. “Never got your name actually.”
"It's Andre. Andre Duval. Pleased to meet you."

Andre glanced around. "So, given you say mon can't speak in your world, I take it that you're... the two-legged kind," he said. "Has the warning been passed onto you yet?"
 
Gladion’s heart sunk. “No. I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut about it, just… didn’t feel the need to come across as any weirder than I already am. But the rest of my arrival group is probably in trouble, though, except the one who’s actually clear on that count. Might’ve even been able to draw a guess about me anyways. What’re the details of this warning?”
 
Gladion’s heart sunk. “No. I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut about it, just… didn’t feel the need to come across as any weirder than I already am. But the rest of my arrival group is probably in trouble, though, except the one who’s actually clear on that count. Might’ve even been able to draw a guess about me anyways. What’re the details of this warning?”
"It's not very detailed, at least not to the extent I know," Andre said. "Just that talk of humans might attract the bad kind of attention. Apparently Gerome, the barkeep of The Wanderin' Zera, is the source of this warning, so it's not just something we off-worlders thought of. Sounds like something to take seriously."
 
“Figures.”

Gladion took a moment to think. “Might be something we have to do anyways though. We’re not going home until we deal with the mystery problem here. Can’t do that unless we give the wrong kind of attention our own kind of attention… but not yet. We’ve still got to get the hang of this shit first. If word’s out for some people we might want to keep track of who they are. Maybe make them our honeypot. That kind of thing… Guess it’s not up to the two of us either way, though.”
 
Gladion took a moment to think. “Might be something we have to do anyways though. We’re not going home until we deal with the mystery problem here. Can’t do that unless we give the wrong kind of attention our own kind of attention… but not yet. We’ve still got to get the hang of this shit first. If word’s out for some people we might want to keep track of who they are. Maybe make them our honeypot. That kind of thing… Guess it’s not up to the two of us either way, though.”
"Using other people as bait...?" Andre narrowed his eyes. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

He shook his head. "Well, I better get going. I still haven't found a job, and I really should by now. Have a good one, Gladion. It's been a pleasure talking to you."
 
"Likewise. But as I said, my entire group's already let it slip. We'd be better to keep an eye on them than not, no? Better to spring on anyone who tries something than ignore the problem..."

Gladion internally sighed. (Maybe his soul sighed or something, apparently that's something thae he has now.) The moment he'd phrased it like that to this guy, he'd already botched things. "Been interesting chatting with you, and thanks for passing on the warning. I'll see you around, I hope."

Andre was an odd sort of guy, he thought. Uncomfortable to talk to, but strategically seemed like a safe person. For now, at least. Gladion couldn't shake off the feeling this conversation had been a way to size him up... If Andre was a danger, it would be of Gladion finding himself in an out-group, rather than a danger to the core of the... were they a 'team' at this point? Kind of.


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[Ch01] ~ Two Mon of Kalosian Blood
Andre walked through the Square lethargically. It had been a rough day at work. He'd mistaken one street for another, and the letter he'd delivered there was apparently very important. He'd received a yelling from his boss and a strong fear of losing his job. Luckily, he'd gotten another chance. This time.

He sighed, wondering what to do now. Go to sleep early, or relax at some bar? That Sun Stone place sounded interesting - apparently there was a mawile there, one of the off-worlders, who had chains around her secondary set of jaws and sang some strange songs. But he'd also heard the Sun Stone Saloon was... a little out of his price range. And they probably wanted customers to pay if they wanted to stay and listen.

But, as luck would have it, he spotted a mawile at the corner of the square - and the chains around her jaws confirmed her identity. Maybe she'd be nice to chat up! Hopefully, she'd be friendly.

He trotted up to the mawile. "Hey there," he said. "You're the performer from the Sun Stone Saloon, right?"
 
He trotted up to the mawile. "Hey there," he said. "You're the performer from the Sun Stone Saloon, right?"

Living in Alola had certainly gotten Odette more used to more compact communities, but Frontier Town felt like it was on a whole other level. It seemed no matter what she did, she always ended up back in the same few places. She supposed there was nothing inherently wrong with that, but there were some days when she just craved some sort of variety. At least sitting in the town square provided something like that. People--or Pokemon (she needed to get used to that) watching was an interesting albeit quite bizarre way to pass the time when she wasn't up spending her tips on better outfits for her sets. She got her daily eavesdropping-for-info in and got to get eyes on all the locals going about their days. Fresh air never hurt anyone, either.

She'd found a pretty good spot on one of the benches in front of the fountain. It was positioned in a perfect spot to block out the sun, while she got an occasional sprinkle of water from the fountain spouts. It was a good place to sit and vibe, and even catch up on some setlist rearranging. She had a journal out and was muttering through some song verses she'd written down from memory when an unfamiliar voice caught her attention. She looked up to see she partially recognized the orange deerling trotting up to her. Somewhere in her mind, she recalled seeing his face at the Haus but had never gotten a clear look. The first thing she noticed was his glasses, and she was glad to see yet another Pokemon with shitty eyesight. Or, maybe they were just reading glasses. It looked like she'd find out soon enough.

Odette slowly closed her book and set it in her lap. "Hey. Yeah, that's me," she replied, reaching up to push her glasses up on her nose. She opened her mouth to follow up, but when nothing immediately came out, the tension deflated from her shoulders. "I'm trying to think of a better way to respond to that, but I can't come up with anything that won't make me sound like a priss. So, hi, nice to meet you. I'm Odette."

Again with the uncertainties of greetings. This was a deerling; it wasn't like he had hands to do a handshake. And the concept of cheek kisses was lost on a lot of the civilians here. A wonky half-smile played on her lips as she raised an awkward hand.

"Please enlighten me how you like to be greeted before I make an ass of myself. If it's not too late."
 
Odette slowly closed her book and set it in her lap. "Hey. Yeah, that's me," she replied, reaching up to push her glasses up on her nose. She opened her mouth to follow up, but when nothing immediately came out, the tension deflated from her shoulders. "I'm trying to think of a better way to respond to that, but I can't come up with anything that won't make me sound like a priss. So, hi, nice to meet you. I'm Odette."

Again with the uncertainties of greetings. This was a deerling; it wasn't like he had hands to do a handshake. And the concept of cheek kisses was lost on a lot of the civilians here. A wonky half-smile played on her lips as she raised an awkward hand.

"Please enlighten me how you like to be greeted before I make an ass of myself. If it's not too late."
Andre chuckled. "Don't worry about it, you're coming across great," he said. "I'm Andre. One of the off-worlders. I hear you're making waves by singing some tunes that the local folks can't recognize. How's that going?"
 
"Don't worry about it, you're coming across great," he said.
Odette settled a hand over her chest. Good to hear she was making a good first impression on someone.

"Thank gods," she huffed.

"I'm Andre. One of the off-worlders. I hear you're making waves by singing some tunes that the local folks can't recognize. How's that going?"
Her ears perked at the name, but she let it go for the moment. "Small world." She squinted at her own unintentional joke before shrugging it away. "I guess I deduced that much. I caught a glimpse of your face at the Haus, where I assume most of us are staying at the moment. I swear, that's not me being creepy, there's just a lot of us."

She couldn't help but smile at his question, but it teetered on a line between content and utterly doubtful. "It's...something," she said. "I really didn't think much of taking a few songs from my world up onstage, but it just blew up. I mean, I know controversy sells, but shit."

In all positivity, she was thankful for the turnout. Those who liked it really liked it, and listening to the entire house sing along with her was nothing short of euphoric. But, bad always came with the good, and the hecklers here really knew how to heckle. She could have done without it and the knots they put in her chest. But, luckily, talking back to them was just an added layer of comedy to the show. Plus, she felt like Greasewood would have her back if things ever got too far out of control. So far, it wasn't anything she couldn't play off of.

Nonetheless, she couldn't deny that the unease she got from the harassment was hard to ignore. Stage fright, especially the type she had, never truly faded.

"Tips are tips, though," she grinned. "And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun." When she could shake off the nerves, it really was a great time. Where she liked being.

After adjusting her glasses again, she regarded Andre with a questioning look. "But enough about me. If you don't mind me asking..." she cupped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice to a whisper, "...is your name Kalosian by any chance?"
 
After adjusting her glasses again, she regarded Andre with a questioning look. "But enough about me. If you don't mind me asking..." she cupped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice to a whisper, "...is your name Kalosian by any chance?"
"Ah!" Andre smiled. "Yes, indeed, it is. While I am mostly Galarish, there is Kalosian blood in my veins -- back home, I mean, not in this new body. And in case you were wondering, no, there's no accent on the E. My parents chose to stick to ASCII." His tail flicked. "How about you? Where are you from?"
 
"Ah!" Andre smiled. "Yes, indeed, it is. While I am mostly Galarish, there is Kalosian blood in my veins -- back home, I mean, not in this new body. And in case you were wondering, no, there's no accent on the E. My parents chose to stick to ASCII." His tail flicked. "How about you? Where are you from?"
She had to laugh. "I was wondering, so thanks for reading my mind. Good call, really. My friend Noel was supposed to have the...the...fuck, what are they called..." she started rubbing her temple as the word failed her. "...the umlauts. I think? The two dots on the 'O's? Anyway, he was supposed to have those, but his parents went back and erased it off his birth certificate because they didn't want to deal with it."

She could have gathered the Galarish part just from his accent, but she appreciated the confirmation. "I'm the reverse. Well, actually...I'm more half-and-half. There's definitely some Paldean in there too."

It felt nice to talk about places she was actually familiar with. It brought on a sense of normalcy that had been evading her up until that point.

Odette did a quick scan of the immediate area before continuing. "Judging by all that I can safely assume you're human," she commented, still keeping her voice low. Presumably human and...in a deerling's body. She kept forgetting how lucky she was to have gotten shoved into another humanoid. She couldn't imagine having to figure out how to function as a quadruped.

"...how has it been?" she queried, gesturing to him.
 
Odette did a quick scan of the immediate area before continuing. "Judging by all that I can safely assume you're human," she commented, still keeping her voice low. Presumably human and...in a deerling's body. She kept forgetting how lucky she was to have gotten shoved into another humanoid. She couldn't imagine having to figure out how to function as a quadruped.

"...how has it been?" she queried, gesturing to him.
Andre sighed. "Well, it hasn't been as bad as it could have been, with the short-range telekinesis, better range of motion and... these things," he said, growing out his vines and showing them off. He retracted them. "Although it feels a bit uncomfortable to have what used to be your hands on the ground as you walk. Keeps feeling dirty, and there's not much water to wash them off. Not that they wouldn't immediately get dirty again."

He shrugged. "But, honestly, the worst part of it all is that I've lost my dexterity, or at least had it very much impaired. It's a big deal when you're an artist. I probably couldn't afford the painting supplies I'd need to do portraits for money on my pay, anyway, but I would've at least liked to be able to sketch something in the library every now and then."

He took a deep breath. "I have been practicing, regardless, and I feel like I've improved a little bit, so maybe that's something I'll grow out of with time. One can only hope."
 
Andre sighed. "Well, it hasn't been as bad as it could have been, with the short-range telekinesis, better range of motion and... these things," he said, growing out his vines and showing them off. He retracted them. "Although it feels a bit uncomfortable to have what used to be your hands on the ground as you walk. Keeps feeling dirty, and there's not much water to wash them off. Not that they wouldn't immediately get dirty again."

He shrugged. "But, honestly, the worst part of it all is that I've lost my dexterity, or at least had it very much impaired. It's a big deal when you're an artist. I probably couldn't afford the painting supplies I'd need to do portraits for money on my pay, anyway, but I would've at least liked to be able to sketch something in the library every now and then."

He took a deep breath. "I have been practicing, regardless, and I feel like I've improved a little bit, so maybe that's something I'll grow out of with time. One can only hope."
Odette watched him grow his vines, eyes shining with sympathy. Especially when he ended up disclosing he was an artist and unable to even hold his tools correctly. That was what really made her feel bad.

It wasn't something that had crossed her mind, but had she also ended up in some sort of form where she couldn't sing, dance, or both, it was a safe assumption that she would have lost her shit. While she could not draw to save her fucking skin, art was still an, well, artistic medium, and she truly felt for him.

"That sucks," was all she could say at first. She didn't want to show any pity, because gods knew she hated when people pitied her, but she wasn't exactly very good with the comforting words. "I mean...I'm sure 'practice makes perfect' still applies when you're a deerling. I know it's easier for me to say, but I think as long as you keep doing what you're doing, it'll come with time. I feel like we're going to be here for a minute, so at risk of sounding obnoxiously cliche, keep at it."

Scratching her cheek, she eyed his vines again. "I don't know if it'll help, because one, I can't draw, and two, I don't know how deerlings are built, but I am a dancer, which is like...all dexterity training. I could make an attempt to help you build up your strength on a very trial-and-error basis."

There was something else he had said that caught her attention, and she backtracked to it. "And not to pry, but what are you doing for work that you can't afford a sketchbook and a pencil?" She realized rather quickly that it sounded a little insensitive, and she backtracked again. "Or...again, I don't draw, so what even goes into drawing portraits? Are the supplies that pricey?"
 
Scratching her cheek, she eyed his vines again. "I don't know if it'll help, because one, I can't draw, and two, I don't know how deerlings are built, but I am a dancer, which is like...all dexterity training. I could make an attempt to help you build up your strength on a very trial-and-error basis."
Andre grinned. "You'd help me out? Well, I can't refuse that offer."

There was something else he had said that caught her attention, and she backtracked to it. "And not to pry, but what are you doing for work that you can't afford a sketchbook and a pencil?" She realized rather quickly that it sounded a little insensitive, and she backtracked again. "Or...again, I don't draw, so what even goes into drawing portraits? Are the supplies that pricey?"
"Oh, painting portraits, not drawing them," Andre corrected. "I get the feeling paint is going to be expensive here, given oil paint usually is and I really doubt acrylics have been invented yet." The mention of acrylics had a shiver going down his spine... or across, now that it was horizontal. "A sketchbook I could probably afford, though I've been using the pencil and papers at the library, since they seem to be free. At least, no one's yelled at me yet..."

He brought a vine to his chin. "I hadn't thought of selling pencil portraits... but I don't know if they'd be worth much. My style is rather messy, especially now. And, honestly, even if I had all my supplies, I worry that I won't be able to illustrate pokémon that well. I can draw them adequately to the human eye, but just as human brains are hard-wired to pick out errors in the human face, I imagine pokémon could have something similar for their own species. What would look fine to me would look uncanny to a customer, and uncanny art doesn't do well." He shook his head. "I'm probably better off just drawing for my own entertainment, and making my money as a mailman... or mailmon."
 
Andre grinned. "You'd help me out? Well, I can't refuse that offer."
For some reason, she wasn't fully expecting him to agree. But she smiled crookedly when he did. "Great, now I just need to put together a lesson plan and study up on how gras-types work," she said half-jokingly.

"Oh, painting portraits, not drawing them," Andre corrected. "I get the feeling paint is going to be expensive here, given oil paint usually is and I really doubt acrylics have been invented yet." The mention of acrylics had a shiver going down his spine... or across, now that it was horizontal. "A sketchbook I could probably afford, though I've been using the pencil and papers at the library, since they seem to be free. At least, no one's yelled at me yet..."

He brought a vine to his chin. "I hadn't thought of selling pencil portraits... but I don't know if they'd be worth much. My style is rather messy, especially now. And, honestly, even if I had all my supplies, I worry that I won't be able to illustrate pokémon that well. I can draw them adequately to the human eye, but just as human brains are hard-wired to pick out errors in the human face, I imagine pokémon could have something similar for their own species. What would look fine to me would look uncanny to a customer, and uncanny art doesn't do well." He shook his head. "I'm probably better off just drawing for my own entertainment, and making my money as a mailman... or mailmon."
"Oh, I got you," she said in understanding. Buying paint just to redo her bedroom cost an obscene amount, so she wasn't shocked to hear that specialty artist paint was no measly price either.

She listened to him muse about portraiture and whatnot, finding the explanation quite interesting. But, she felt the need to interject. "Well...if you don't mind advice from a virtual stranger," she said cautiously. "You likely won't know until you give it a shot. And who knows, with your dexterity re-training, it might be a good time to start configuring a new style. Your," she gestured to his body again, "Pokemon-fied art style. I'm sure learning the 'eye' is just like re-training your new-body reflexes. Just something with practice." The words sounded pretty hopeful, but for all she knew, she was talking out of her ass. "But you might know better than me. Still though..."

She trailed off as her eyes wandered over to the Sun Stone marquee. "I was a little wary about bringing songs from my world over here; re-tuning some of them to this kind of setting, you know? But I just figured it out and did it, and, not to toot my own horn, it seems to have worked in my favor. With a little bit of re-tuning, you might be able to figure it out too, hm?"
 
She listened to him muse about portraiture and whatnot, finding the explanation quite interesting. But, she felt the need to interject. "Well...if you don't mind advice from a virtual stranger," she said cautiously. "You likely won't know until you give it a shot. And who knows, with your dexterity re-training, it might be a good time to start configuring a new style. Your," she gestured to his body again, "Pokemon-fied art style. I'm sure learning the 'eye' is just like re-training your new-body reflexes. Just something with practice." The words sounded pretty hopeful, but for all she knew, she was talking out of her ass. "But you might know better than me. Still though..."

She trailed off as her eyes wandered over to the Sun Stone marquee. "I was a little wary about bringing songs from my world over here; re-tuning some of them to this kind of setting, you know? But I just figured it out and did it, and, not to toot my own horn, it seems to have worked in my favor. With a little bit of re-tuning, you might be able to figure it out too, hm?"
Andre took in a deep breath. "Maybe, maybe," he said. "It's just tough to start from square one. And I don't know how much the people of this town want to humor someone questionable at drawing..." He tilted his head and looked skyward. "Though maybe some other off-worlders would be more open to it. I should start asking people at the Haus to let me draw them once my dexterity is good enough."

He shook his head. "But that's enough about me and my artistic blues. How about you tell me... what kind of 'hero' you are back home? Just someone good-hearted, like me - apparently - or do you have some grand heroic acts do your name?"
 
"Though maybe some other off-worlders would be more open to it. I should start asking people at the Haus to let me draw them once my dexterity is good enough."
Something about that felt like bait. So she felt completely and utterly stupid when she pointed to herself, eagerly, and said "I'll volunteer. We'll add it to your training regiment."

He shook his head. "But that's enough about me and my artistic blues. How about you tell me... what kind of 'hero' you are back home? Just someone good-hearted, like me - apparently - or do you have some grand heroic acts do your name?"
Andre went in for a subject change, and she was half-expecting him to ask about her creative process, or about the songs she was singing, or maybe even about dance. The question she ended up getting threw her for a sudden loop, and she had to take every ounce of the constitution she had to not narrow her eyes at him. Something about it felt probe-y and sent her metaphorical hackles up, but she was also prepared to chalk it up to her still feeling largely unfamiliar with her surroundings. Her brain couldn't settle on either, and in the meantime, she tilted her head at him.

"Hero?" she repeated. "I wouldn't use that word to describe myself. I don't think I've done much to warrant it..."

You helped crack a worldwide conspiracy. Unwittingly. Twice.

You're a champion.


Yeah, perhaps she could use the word for herself. Loosely. Sparingly. Maybe 'good samaritan' was a better term. 'Hero' felt too gratuitous.

But, you didn't earn your title.

You harbor a demon. You are hellspawn.

Your father is the most wanted man in your world.

You have killed. More than once.


She felt her eyes start to glaze over as her thoughts raged a sudden war in her brain. She felt the stem of her jaws twitch, which was enough to pull her back to reality after a split second. She flexed the fingers on her bad hand before raising it to scratch her cheek.

"I've done some detective work in my time. Uncovered a drug ring. Exposed a scary gang. You know, little things. And I'm a bit of a renowned trainer where I'm from."
 
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"Hero?" she repeated. "I wouldn't use that word to describe myself. I don't think I've done much to warrant it..."

[...]

"I've done some detective work in my time. Uncovered a drug ring. Exposed a scary gang. You know, little things. And I'm a bit of a renowned trainer where I'm from."
Andre laughed. "Wow, all that? And you still don't consider yourself a hero? I just have to wonder what you'd think of me, with nothing to my name but some charitywork and slacktivism," he teased.

"But seriously - how'd you even manage to do all those things? Are you a cop?"

Andre left out the part where he felt a uneasy at the notion that being a powerful trainer was something 'heroic'. What was the heroic act? Conquering the wills of savage pokémon and making them her own? No, no. He had to stop assuming the worst of trainers.
 
"Wow, all that? And you still don't consider yourself a hero? I just have to wonder what you'd think of me, with nothing to my name but some charitywork and slacktivism," he teased.
"Slacktivism," Odette echoed. "I've never heard that term in my life, that's great."

She followed that up with a shrug. "It sounds like you're trying. I think as long as you're not all around scum of the fucking earth, I'll think you're pretty okay."
"But seriously - how'd you even manage to do all those things? Are you a cop?"
At the notion that she, Odette Cinq-Mars, was a cop, she had to laugh. "Gods no. My grandfather is. I wanted to be a fucking musical theater star," she said, almost bitterly. She deflated after a beat, adjusting her glasses before sighing. "Life's weird."

She fixed her gaze back on Andre, eyeing his frames yet again. "The simple answer is I'm just nosy. I like to think I just have a very pronounced moral compass, but, at the end of the day, I'm also just nosy," she explained. "I only got involved in this one particular case because the drug was largely affecting shiny Pokemon. You know what those are right? The weird colorings on Pokemon's coats?"

She waited for him to answer before she went on. "Anyway. My friend, Enora. She's shiny. She'd been my friend and training partner since before she evolved, and the thought of her falling victim to what that drug was doing to other 'mon just made me fucking nuts. And then seeing it in action was like--" Anger flickered across her face, and she was left shaking her head disdainfully. "Some fuckheads shouldn't have partners, Pokemon or human. I'd run them all over with a truck if I could. Alas, I only have a license for motorcycles," she added in jest.

With a sigh, she was able to calm herself down. "That said, Enora has stuck her neck out for me more than once, so it just felt like another time to return the favor and get a bunch of other unwilling 'mon out of a shit situation. So I shoved my hand in the door, and..." she gestured out in front of her, pressing her lips into a tight line. "Ta-da."
 
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