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Landsverd Teardrop Station

Jackie Cat

A cat who writes stories.
Heartache staff
Pronoun
they or she
The Covenant outpost on Teardrop Island could not have been built by the same paws that built Novelux, and the other grand cities of the Commonwealth. By all appearances, its builders had used local materials and simple construction methods – chiefly grey stone and white pine – and the conifers around it concealed it from any distant viewers. It was an unassuming collection of buildings, with a central courtyard, a clocktower, and an outer fence meant more to ward off local wildlife than to prevent entry by a determined trespasser. Plain wooden signs indicated one building to be the 'Quarters', another to be 'Storage', and another to be 'Operations'.

Once inside the quarters, the interior was a touch more unusual, in its own way. Most of the furnishing was ordinary, if faintly unconventional – tables, chairs, bureaus and shelves. The walls and surfaces displayed everything from plains-'mon talismans of soapstone and copper ore, to regional and world maps, a chalkboard for duty rotas, to little hand-whittled figurines of the Saints. A medicine cabinet. A wall safe. A braviary-feather dreamcatcher. A mounted piece of slightly-melted railroad track. A slightly faded banner in white and gold, displaying a gas lamp motif. Still, the room felt more unusual than all that would suggest... It was subtle, but attentive Wayfarers would notice paler, larger lightbulbs overhead, a desktop telephone system in one corner, a clean, black stove (not wood or coal, but gas-burning!) in the kitchenette at one end... even what looked like an electric fridge, too.

Strangest of all was some kind of advanced radio (or primitive computer?) set into one wall, all green-grey metal surfaces and prominent dials and buttons rising out of them, with a lit display of some kind above the interface. An array of glass panels behind which danced ghostly numbers and letters, each a dim but piercing orange like a smoggy urban sunset. The characters seem to float in a void, leaving brief, phosphorescent trails as they ticked from one character to another, like afterimages burned into one's vision. Neon tubes. Cold cathode displays.

It wasn't the slick, modern, digital, consumer electronics of many Wayfarers' worlds, but it was a level of tech that exceeded anything else on Forlas that was neither imported from off world, nor found in some exotic dungeon.

Despite all the tech, the place still had a vaguely homely, rough-shod feel, not so different from somewhere like Frontier Town. Books lay half-read on coffee tables, weather-beaten coats hung from the backs of chairs, and a half-eaten pack of cookies rested on one shelf, with a paper note pinned to it declaring it to be 'COSIMA'S' property, and ordering the reader to keep their 'PAWS OFF!' Whatever else this place was, and whatever else the Covenant might be, ordinary pokémon lived and worked here. For them, it was home.

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[Ch06] ~ The Society of Eccentrics
Those Wayfarers that chose to enter the Station rather than fight were met by a gruff-voiced but polite Cyclizar guard in a chartreuse raincoat, the hood down for the moment. A small, silver badge gleamed dully on the lapel – gaslamp, spear, and key, all framed by a circle of rope. He introduced himself as Axol, offered the visitors drinks (hot chocolate? cold milk? spirits – with ice?), and asked them to wait in the station common room while he made them – and then a little longer, to let him invite company from the Ops house. Anyone with free time who felt like meeting fresh faces would turn up soon enough. Maybe not all at once.

By the time such 'mon turned up, the Wayfarers would have had several minutes to make themselves comfortable, and the battle with Articuno would be drawing to a conclusion. Battles didn't take so long, after all.

The first of these were a cheerful Aipom wearing an ill-fitting leather jacket, a truly garish necktie, and a zany, slightly unhinged grin, a dour-faced Lopunny in a satin office shirt and much more sensible necktie, and a young-faced Chesnaught, in a flatcap and hand-kitted scarf, to which was pinned the same small badge as had Axol.

"Howdy, y'all!" drawled the Aipom, in a truly dreadful imitation of a Soja' accent. His tail waved for him, then shot forward to make a finger-pistol motion as he clicked his tongue in what he may have imagined was a 'charming' manner. "Welcome to Fort Crybaby, I'm your handsome host, Roscoe – field surveillance, problem-solving, and procurement are just some of my many, many talents~"

The Lopunny rolled his eyes and walked past, apparently intent only on getting something from the fridge.

"C'monnnnn, Jools!" called the monkey. "Introduce yourself?"

"Julius," said the rabbit, with a light cough. "Don't mind me. Please."

Roscoe shrugged expansively. What can ya do, huh?

"And this lovely lady is our Sammy-girl," he declared, gesturing with both undersized arms, enthusiastically presenting the Chesnaught. "Hero-in-training, champion of our hearts and hopes!"

She waved, and smiled sheepishly. "It's just Sam. Uh, thank you Roscoe. So, um, welcome everyone? Who are you all?"

"Laura," said the nearest Wayfarer, extending a paw. "Nice to meet you. What was that about... hero in training?"

"Laura, got it... Oh, uh, nothing. Don't mind Roscoe. He's just like that." The Chesnaught took the Meowth's much smaller paw in her own massive one, and shook gently. She mouthed each name to herself as they began to sound off.
 
Gladion wasn’t going to let his guard down just because he was offered a drink. These may not be the Coven members who’d hurt Sage, but they were still Coven. That being said, he wasn’t exactly going to decline either. “Would appreciate a hot chocolate. I’m still a little chilly.”

He nodded along as Roscoe and Julius introduced themselves. When Roscoe introduced Sams, he couldn’t entirely hide a look or concern. What he’d heard about how the Coven treated their ‘heroes’ felt deeply wrong to him, and he feared he may be speaking with a consequence of that upbringing.

“Hey, Sam. I’m Gladion.” He noticed she was practicing names as she heard them. “Not always the best with names, honestly, but I should be able to remember that.”

In reality, he didn’t struggle with names in particular. But she clearly did, so it was an excuse for her to either say the same, or at least trust they’d understand if she forgot someone. It felt transparent to him, but whatever. They were here to learn about the Coven, he didn’t want her to clam up.

He wasn’t entirely comfortable with how effortless it was to slip into using little disarming lies, like he’d been taught. But in this case, he supposed it probably wasn’t harmful. Wouldn’t want her to be nervous either way.
 
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"Same here, honestly," added Laura, immediately.

She saw what Gladion had done – and appreciated it. After all, she did the same thing Sam did, just... in her head. Invisible. Sometimes she took notes, later.

Sam grinned, and scratched the back of her head. "Gladion, got it. Like gladiolus. I'll remember that one."

She took off her flatcap and hung it on one of the spikes jutting from her armoured back. In doing so, she revealed a marigold, tucked into her cheek fur. A flower afficionado?
 
A certain Mismagius ooo’d and ahh’d at the sights before him. Whether it was as mundane as the pale light bulbs above or the mesmerizing phosphorus screens below, the ghost floated disturbingly close to every little gadget and gizmo he could find. He even tried phasing through the fridge at one point and pop his head out just to see if different parts of his body would truly feel like they were in disparate temperatures. A successful experiment, if not one met with a bit of shooing shortly after by a custodian.

Ghasipus soon settled into where he was supposed to be and grinned. “So this is what Poké-folk’s interpretation of humanity taken to its limit turns out? Sis would’ve loved this,” Ghaspius remarked, “Y’all gotta show me how you managed to get those gasses to flow like that. And just water’s fine, thanks.” His gaze scanned over the Covenant members as they introduced themselves. Seemed like it wouldn’t take much to get a read on them, at least!

He nodded and flicked his hat up as he replied, “Mismagius Ghaspius. Pleasure to make y’all’s acquaintance. Curious to know how long y’all have been with the organization, if ya don’t mind me askin’.” His eyes turned to the Aipom. “And bless your heart, Roscoe. Just mind the fine folk from the fightin’ folk with that impression, ya hear?”

His smile brightened as the rest of the team arrived. “Looks like y’all made out of the fight in one piece. Wanted to be on standby in case y’all got real hurt, but looks like ya didn’t need that. Glad to see it.” Admittedly, Ghaspius didn’t have much of a direct connection with the Covenant themselves, but he at least had been kept up-to-date by the others. It was nice to know that they could manage themselves, though.
 
Bellatrix had walked in, peppered with snow from the battle with Articuno. She had shaken herself and brushed herself out with her claws a few times before entering but some crystals stubbornly stuck to her fur so she asked for something warm - anything would do - to drink to try and counter the chill left behind. She listened to the Covenant members carefully, sympathising with Julius more than anyone else in the group, though she kept her attention on the more talkative of the lot.

"Not too lonely out here despite being so isolated it seems," she observed as a way to break the proverbial ice. "That and it seems that you have a few devices to attend to here," she added, glancing at the technology with great interest. "How dull is it once the novelty of its advancement wears off?"
 
"Gladion, got it. Like gladiolus. I'll remember that one."
Gladion didn't have to force the smile that crossed his eyes as Sam revealed the yellow flower. (He tried to remember what it was, but came up short. Lillie would've known...) Felt like a sweet, earnest gesture.

It was dangerous to get emotionally attached to anyone in the Coven, though. He had to remember Valere's warning about how the group got their hooks in people. Didn't mean he couldn't wish there was something he could do about it.

"Yeah, that's where it comes from. Supposed to symbolize strength or something like that," he said even though he was certain of exactly what it had meant. "Naming scheme runs in the family. Got a sister, Lillian, back home. She was better with remembering all the plant stuff than me, honestly. She could probably tell what kind that is. Looks nice, at least."
 
"Yeah, that's where it comes from. Supposed to symbolize strength or something like that," he said even though he was certain of exactly what it had meant. "Naming scheme runs in the family. Got a sister, Lillian, back home. She was better with remembering all the plant stuff than me, honestly. She could probably tell what kind that is. Looks nice, at least."

"Marigold," answered Sam, warmly. "Stays bright right into the autumn, around here. I like it, 'cause Marigold was my mother's name. It's a reminder of her. Keeps her close."

If Gladion gave any indication of any personal, parent-related discomfort... Sam seemed like she missed it. Her face was wistful, her large frame somehow looking smaller. Gentle.

"Mostly means good stuff. Love... the warm, cosy kind. Familial, mostly – especially those that have passed. Sometimes it's a symbol for the light – Radiance – but we usually use the gaslamp for that, so nobody Covenant ever picks up on it."

She smiled, and rolled her shoulders. Muscles rippled. Suddenly she didn't seem so small at all.

"So, sword-flower guy. Are you strong?"

Sam made an 'arm wrestle' motion. A challenge, but a cheeky one. Gladion could decline without losing face.

Laura's eyes travelled the room, observing Sam, Roscoe, Julius, her teammates. Reading them. Roscoe's own eyes practically danced, whenever he wasn't actively speaking. Looking for some new stimulus.

[...] “Curious to know how long y’all have been with the organization, if ya don’t mind me askin’. And bless your heart, Roscoe. Just mind the fine folk from the fightin’ folk with that impression, ya hear?”

He found it. Roscoe's brow went up, in a caricaturishly quizzical look.

"I hear ya, pal, but I sure don't know what any of that means! But how long I've been in the Cove'? Maybe I wanna keep that... mysterious."

Laura raised her own brow. She'd picked up on a few things about the way people were while interviewing for the Gazette...

"Well, how about... how old you were when you joined? Unless you were born into it?"

The Aipom's grin relaxed a little. "Nah, I kinda... stumbled in, when I was a boy. Hardly remember it, now. Pranked this guy when I was in something of an outlaw phase. A real vaquero youth. Kept pestering him, and he couldn't shake me – I'm good at finding people, see? Anyway, eventually he figured I could make myself useful, or at least stay outta trouble. Or make better trouble!"

"That third thing, mostly," remarked Julius, from behind a mug of something hot, a few yards away.

“So this is what Poké-folk’s interpretation of humanity taken to its limit turns out? Sis would’ve loved this,”

Roscoe ignored Julius with a snap of his tail's digits.

"Gas-man! You said something earlier, about humanity taken to its limits? What's that even mean, compadre?"

Those odd words... Roscoe was peppering a little Tenacindean into his Luctemarene. Trying to sound like a cool western wandfighter.

Laura snorted. "You know we're not from Soja', right?"

"Eh?"

Apparently, that flew right over Roscoe's head. Maybe he wasn't so quick on the draw – after all, he didn't understand Ghaspius too well.

"Not too lonely out here despite being so isolated it seems," she observed as a way to break the proverbial ice. "That and it seems that you have a few devices to attend to here," she added, glancing at the technology with great interest. "How dull is it once the novelty of its advancement wears off?"

Julius laughed. It was more of a titter, really.

"Oh, especially dull," he replied. "I'm sure an engineer or a scientist could talk your ears off about it, but to me it's just a new kind of office work. Correspondence much the same as letter-writing, just with more inconvenience, if you ask me."

She hadn't asked him. But he felt compelled to answer, anyway. To complain. Julius was that kind of 'mon, it seemed.
 
Andre entered the quarters like the others and asked for a hot chocolate when offered a drink. That should have been his first clue that not all of Coven was as aristocratic as Nolan and Articuno, but he missed it, and only realized it when Roscoe and Sam began to converse with the other Wayfarers.

These mon seemed... common. Riff-raff compared to the human - or "human" - elite that Andre had imagined all the organization consisting of this time. Did they know what the Covenant was? Well, they had the logos and talked about how the gas lamp symbolized Radiance and everything, though Andre supposed the organization already had a reference to that light in the name.

It could be that they didn't care and were simply here for their jobs or a sense of community. Roscoe's story seemed to suggest he didn't join for any ideological reasons. That made their motivations less sinister. Still, they had to know about the human supremacy, right?

And were they human? Human descendants? Just mon? Andre wasn't sure whether to ask yet, or if at all. Maybe it would come up naturally in the conversation, though.

Andre tried to appear less judgmental than he was, smiling and nodding politely. People talked more when they were less tense.
 
"Gas-man! You said something earlier, about humanity taken to its limits? What's that even mean, compadre?"
"I mean, that's what your organization's 'bout, ain't it? Usin' human legacy stuff and tryin' to fit it into Forlas?" Ghaspius replied with the tilt of his head. "Pardon the phrase, just meant that y'all seem to have a whole lotta nice lookin' things all fixed up and workin'. More than I can say 'bout what it was like back home, ya know?"

He fully turned upside down. "Not that we didn't fix a few things, like that 'calculator' — least that's what Odette seemed to call it — but it wasn't like we could just make another from scratch like y'all seemed to be able to." He hummed in thought. "Sis could've talked more 'bout this stuff. Her Association pretty much just focused on unearthing whatever they could find left behind by humans and then tryin' to learn 'em and fix 'em. Heard things were slow going, though."

Satisifed that the room was just as fascinating from the floor was it was on the ceiling, he righted himself and drifted towards one of the glass panels in gentle awe. "Like this thing! What's it do, and who's the genius that managed to get it goin'?"
 
A certain nostalgia rolled over Gladion as Sam spoke. She reminded him of— of nothing. It was important not to indulge any trains of thought like that. It was quite possible he’d end up having to fight Sam before he could go home. And the comparison would be pretty condescending in its own right, this wasn’t some kind of chance at a do-over for leaving his sister behind in Aether. This was a probable future enemy.

She smiled, and rolled her shoulders. Muscles rippled. Suddenly she didn't seem so small at all.

"So, sword-flower guy. Are you strong?"
See? Easy. She was nothing like Lillie at all.

“For some function of the word. Hard to take down, more than anything else.”

Still not totally rested after getting knocked out twice and less than confident in his strength relative to other Wayfarers, Gladion really wished he could brush that arm wrestle off as a joke, but a chance to litmus test Sam’s strength was probably the best piece of info he’d get today. He flexed one of his talons in a mirror of her gesture.

“You can be the judge of that yourself, if you’d like.”

Should he change his type? He’d already blown that he could do that to Articuno by accident, the second he figured out it was even possible. Fighting seemed appropriate, and really he could use the help if he wanted to be able to draw any meaningful conclusions from her performance.

Competitiveness felt like the right kind of emotion for becoming Fighting. That was already kind of the spirit of the moment, but honestly he was expecting to lose this one. (At least, he probably would if she had human strength. Which is what he needed to test for.) Just to be safe, it would be wise to focus on something clearer. The feeling he got from Body Press? He tried to recall the feeling of taking down Rin… No, he could do better.

He brought his helmet down on Halcón, Halcón burst with stored electricity. They took each other out. Equals to the final blow. The RKS system sparked. Show me what you can do, Sam! A rusted copper tone overtook his eyes and crest.
 
“You can be the judge of that yourself, if you’d like.”

"Heh. Nice."

Sam stepped aside for a moment to grab a small, cast-iron table from nearby, and planted it between herself and Gladion. She knelt, and placed her elbow on it.

When Gladion's talons met the Chesnaught's fist, he found real strength there. Forlasan natives didn't come close to this, not if they weren't legendary. If she knew how to fight, and it wasn't just sheer might she had going for her, who knew – maybe she could go toe-to-toe with one of the Cipher admins, or Seth.

"C'mon, then," said Sam, egging on the chimera. "Put some grit into it!"

Her arm was like a bronze statue. Firmer than mortal flesh.

"Dollar says Gladion can do it," chimed in Laura, not sure she believed it, but wanting to support him somehow. It was just the first thing that came to mind, and she was mostly just glad she hadn't used a present-day Galarian number. A dollar was a lot, here! Sam snorted, and her concentration thinned by the slightest amount.

"I mean, that's what your organization's 'bout, ain't it? Usin' human legacy stuff and tryin' to fit it into Forlas? Pardon the phrase, just meant that y'all seem to have a whole lotta nice lookin' things all fixed up and workin'. More than I can say 'bout what it was like back home, ya know? [...] Like this thing! What's it do, and who's the genius that managed to get it goin'?"

Roscoe scratched his head with one tail-mounted digit.

"I dunno about that, Gas-man. We don't get a lot of inanimate interplanar flotsam and jetsam. Mostly sorry-lookin' amnesiacs, maybe with a trinket or two on 'em. Nah, that hunk a' junk over there was built in-house. That's our very own artisan manufacturing you're looking at."

Julius didn't come any closer, but rolled his eyes a little, and huffed.

"Please. You haven't the first idea how it even works, Roscoe. It's not exactly hand-made, I wouldn't call it artisan. Also, that machine took decades of work by whole teams of engineers and technical philosophers to develop. Don't believe anyone who tells you that a single individual invented anything on their own."

The Lopunny closed his eyes and sipped his drink, stiff as a board.

Roscoe mouthed a 'yadda yadda yadda' and made a disgruntled face. He coughed.

"Well, there's Sparkwright—"

"He's a hack," shot back Julius, instantly. "And his ideas are no doubt all plagiarised from established technologies in his home world, besides. He's no philanthropist."
 
"I dunno about that, Gas-man. We don't get a lot of inanimate interplanar flotsam and jetsam. Mostly sorry-lookin' amnesiacs, maybe with a trinket or two on 'em. Nah, that hunk a' junk over there was built in-house. That's our very own artisan manufacturing you're looking at."

"Total opposite of where I'm from, then. We get all the junk but none of the experts; go figure!" Ghaspius's cloth fluttered as he huffed. "Still, that's mighty impressive there. What's it do besides show off fancy numbers?"

"Well, there's Sparkwright—"

"He's a hack," shot back Julius, instantly. "And his ideas are no doubt all plagiarised from established technologies in his home world, besides. He's no philanthropist."
The Mismagius couldn't help but lean in a bit closer to the Aipom. "Sparkwright, ya say?" His face squished a bit as his grin widened and his presence became just a bit close for comfort. "Fancy name; he a part of your org? What's he made?!" Though despite his creepy behavior, his voice trilled with audible excitement.
 
Gladion closed his eyes in a gesture that would probably look more like the concentration it was supposed to appear as if he wasn't talking instead of focusing. "I'd bet against you if it wasn't a conflict of interest, Laura. She's good at what she does. But I suppose if you have such faith in me, I'm not allowed to lose." Not that he'd really feel bad if Laura lost some money betting on him in his test to see if he was correct in thinking he'd lose.

Not that he was giving in, of course. He was at least going to give Sam a run for Laura's money. Maybe if Laura was lucky he'd even win and she'd even get to keep her dollar. It wasn't like he'd lugged that helmet around for ages just to slough off all that foretalon strength before his next fight. (Was that even how things worked here? If the rules of physical muscle applied here, Sam would have more than him by volume.)

There was no reason to drag this out. He put all he had into one push, and if that wasn't going to be enough then it just wasn't going to work out.
 
Bellatrix snorted at the lopunny's comment. "Still a fair bit faster than letters given that we are quite far from the Soja," she observed. "Is this the most distant station of yours or does your reach extend further? What brings you all the way out here?" she then asked, sipping her drink thoughtfully.
 
"Total opposite of where I'm from, then. We get all the junk but none of the experts; go figure! Still, that's mighty impressive there. What's it do besides show off fancy numbers?"

"Mostly the numbers," joked Roscoe.

"It's a wireless telegraph transceiver," muttered Julius.

"It's a radio," translated Roscoe.

The Lopunny sniffed derisively.

"Sparkwright, ya say? Fancy name; he a part of your org? What's he made?!"

Julius' face stiffened and he rolled his eyes so hard he looked on the verge of having a medical episode.

Roscoe filled in for him with impish delight.

"Sparkwright's a suspected offworlder. A suspected human. Just turned up one day in the 'burbs outside Magna City, and within a month he was starting some kind of patenting company, or something. He pretty much became the 'rich, eccentric inventor' type overnight. He invented the motor carriage, and the light bulb, and a bunch of other things—"

"He did not," interjected Julius. "And he is not Covenant..."

Roscoe shrugged and waved his tail-hand nonchalantly. "Or he, like, invented the first good ones, or cheap ones, or something like that. Or his company did. Look, pal, the point is he's a big deal in Novelux. Founded a technical philosophy thing for young inventors, the, uhh—"

"Polytechnic Institute," provided Julius, bitterly. "Which at least is a respectable Sophosyne campus. It only has his damn name on it, is all."

"Still a fair bit faster than letters given that we are quite far from the Soja," she observed.

Julius's oversized ears twitched. "Mm? Oh, the wireless telegraph. It's potentially fast, I'll admit. But you have to have an operator on each end, trained to use a finnicky piece of machinery. It will be useful in twenty, thirty, forty years, or however long it takes to enter commercial use. Right now, it's an overpriced way to keep major stations in contact without the latency of mail or the infrastructure needs of wired telegraphs."

"Is this the most distant station of yours or does your reach extend further? What brings you all the way out here?"

Julius smiled thinly, and raised a brow.

"Perhaps it does," he commented, neutrally. "We do try to have as long a reach as possible. 'Out here' is not so far at all, in any case."

Roscoe nodded energetically. "Yeah, it's technically still part of Landsverd—"

Julius shot him a slight glare, silencing him. The island's location was secret, and the monkey was being careless.

"Ahem. What Roscoe means to say, is that Teardrop Station is located somewhere in uncontested Commonwealth territory. As to your question – the Covenant maintains various stations across the Commonwealth, the better to respond rapidly to any urgent situations, to monitor agents in the field, and so on. We have everything from medical provisions, to that thing—" here, he indicated the radio with one ear, "—to a natural philosophy laboratory for Saint Articuno."

"I'd bet against you if it wasn't a conflict of interest, Laura. She's good at what she does. But I suppose if you have such faith in me, I'm not allowed to lose."

Laura grinned, rooting for her friend to win so damn hard she felt it compressing her abdomen.

Sam seemed charmed enough herself, beaming.

"It's okay to lose," she teased. "It's only an arm wrestle, uh—"

"Florian," lied Laura, cheerfully.

"Florian. Wait, no—"

He put all he had into one push, and if that wasn't going to be enough then it just wasn't going to work out.

Gladion's great effort came at precisely the right time. Sam's composure cracked, and he heaved. The Chesnaught's mighty arm thunked flat onto the table – defeated.

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and snorted.

"Gladion. I remember. You know, I'm not even mad – that's on me for getting flustered."

"Sorry about that, didn't think it'd cost you the match," chuckled Laura, sheepishly.

"It's alright," said Sam, kindly. She reached in a toolbelt for a silver coin, and tossed it to the Meowth. "There you are."

Laura caught it, and gripped it nervously. "Oh, you sure? I was kinda joking—"

"Of course!"

The cat nodded, and pocketed the dollar. "You must get paid okay, then?"

Sam nodded in confirmation, but didn't elaborate. She put a hand out to Gladion, saying, "Thanks for that. I had fun!"
 
It was strange. For as much as she had been dying to get in with other Covenant members, she’d found herself more concerned with sticking around Steven. Making sure all was fine and dandy with him before they parted ways. She’d also be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was interested in seeing how that Articuno fight would go—which was enough to drive her to provide the altercation with a momentary audience on her way to the station. Once it looked like things were wrapping up, only then did she finally make her way over. Better late than never.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting…actually, no. That was a lie. She was expecting candles and cloaks and a sacrificial altar fixed over a magic circle drawn in the blood of poor unfortunate souls who’d defied the orders of the Covenant. But no. It was weirder than that. They had a fucking fridge.

In the middle of this Pokemon video game and Quentin Tarantino Western crossover she’d found herself in, this group she’d somehow convinced herself was a cult had a motherfucking refrigerator. She wasn’t sure if that just further confirmed her suspicions or left her wondering why they hadn’t gone for one of the newer models with the built in screen on the freezer.

One thing was certain, she’d never take her own fridge for granted again.

Upon shaking off her own disbelief, she got ahold of herself long enough to catch sight of the other Wayfarers that had beat her to the station, chatting with a few other Pokemon she didn’t recognize. Covenant members no doubt. She steeled herself with a breath as she approached.

“Uh, afternoon,” she greeted with a stiff yet exaggerated wave. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I just wanted to butt my head in real quick and say hello. I’m Odette.”
 
Wait, who’s Florian?

It took until Sam corrected herself for Gladion to realize what Laura had meant. She’d said the name earnestly enough he’d not immediately caught onto her plan. Once he realized what she’d done, he laughed along with Sam.

“Thanks for the assist, Laura.”

Even if he hadn’t really done it through his own strength, it was still felt good to have avoided losing.

He shook Sam’s hand in earnest. “No problem. It was a pleasure.”

Sam was definitely either descended from humans or one of them herself. He wasn’t sure. Shaking hands felt… actually kind of odd without hands.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve shaken anyone’s hand since arriving here. Is that a normal thing here?”

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I just wanted to butt my head in real quick and say hello. I’m Odette.”
“Hey, Odette, we’re just chilling. This is Sam, she’s nice. Sam, this is Odette, she’s real mean so you gotta watch out for her.”

He preened a couple of neck feathers, acting flippant. It felt important to seem friendly, but he had no idea what he was doing. Hopefully he wouldn’t irritate Odette too much, they’d been getting along better lately. If she was used to dealing with another version of him she’d probably be used to his idiosyncratic social skills, right?
 
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“Thanks for the assist, Laura.” He shook Sam’s hand in earnest. “No problem. It was a pleasure.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve shaken anyone’s hand since arriving here. Is that a normal thing here?”

Laura smiled to herself. Better not to make a big deal about her assist. But howls, she was pleased.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so?" said Sam, of the handshake. "Not so much out west?"

"Happens sometimes," chipped in Laura. She frowned. "But, uh, mostly other Wayfarers or 'mon from the Commonwealth. The east, I mean. Lotta head-nods and bowing, otherwise."

Sam shrugged. "It's not a gesture that works for every body plan," she said, simply. "But it's a human thing, right?"

Laura nodded. It made sense. Not every culture, sure, but... she could see how it'd catch on and normalise.

"So you're not?" she added. "Human, I mean?"

Sam waggled a paw ambivalently. "Uh, ish. Distant ancestor. Super distant."

"How distant?"

"Anyway, it doesn't really matter. I'm tough 'cause I've been training like the devil since I was a pup, not 'cause of that."

Julius' oversized lapine ears twitched. "It certainly doesn't hurt," he commented, drily.

Sam shrugged. "So, what about you guys? Human...?"

Laura nodded. She didn't speak for Gladion.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I just wanted to butt my head in real quick and say hello. I’m Odette.”
“Hey, Odette, we’re just chilling. This is Sam, she’s nice. Sam, this is Odette, she’s real mean so you gotta watch out for her.”

Sam beamed in welcome, and put out her paw again. "I'm sure you're just joking," she said, warmly. "Hello, Odette! Odette, Odette, Oh-dett. Right. Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Covenant! We don't really host guests very often, so you must have made quite the impression on the sensei."

Julius coughed, conspicuously.

"Did that old bird seem as if they liked you guys?" Sam asked, genuinely curious, and totally ignoring the Lopunny.
 
"Radio, transceiver, motor carriage... nope, haven't the slightest clue what y'all are talkin' 'bout," Ghaspius replied with a gleeful rise in pitch as he gave back the much needed space and merrily floated along. "But sounds like Novelux's got a run for your money, don't it?" It wasn't meant to be a tease, though in hindsight he could've seen how it'd sound like such.

He gave a polite nod of acknowledgment to Odette's arrival and chuckle at the arm wrestle going on. "So, this the sorta thing y'all do everyday?" The Mismagius gave a wink. "Or maybe there's a bit more to it than tours and fun?"
 
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