The sheer beauty and fluidity of intense orange shades ebb and flow deep behind a dense canopy of trees. Like destructive waves of an ocean they move, roaring fiercely as they gobble up the available woodlands.

The color drew her to this spot initially; that and the delightful heat. Her hands are in her pockets, she observes casually, hint of a smile. Next to her is Mercy, the ephemeral Ninetales. She, too, sits and watches. They enjoy the show together.

That is, until a brute of a woman enters frame. One word breaks the tranquility, the obvious descriptor of the show taking place before them. Mick turns her head, squints through the orange tint to catch distinguishing features.

Lucy is quite easy to identify. Not a lot of grunts look or behave like this one. She remembers her quite well, her musculature particularly so. For some reason, her mouth waters.

She moves toward her, white hair trailing behind. Mercy follows suit, white tails dancing. Mick adopts a warm smile, goes for the embrace. The fire can wait the standard greetings.

”Hello, Lucille! What a shock this is, eh?” Her fake laugh sounds authentic, like bells. Even so, her warm candor does not fit the setting. She was never good at reacting to stimuli properly. Noted, watch more slice of life films.

Mick releases Lucy from the hug but still grips the taller woman’s arms. She turns to her companion, the fox-pokemon exists like a phantom. ”Mercy, dear, could you spin some hail for me? Dampen the nights affairs a bit?”

Mercy looks upwards, breathes. Clouds form with the swirl of her nine tails. She summons a hail storm out of nothing.

Mick looks back to Lucille, finally releases her arms. Her eyes are intense though her smile is soft. It’s… odd. ”Come, let’s avoid this hail storm. We can further pacify this from within the trees.”

She beckons towards the maelstrom and leads the way.

---

@lucy

actions taken: mercy uses hail to whip up a nice little snow flurry

Lucy’s anxiety is gauged. Mick represses a grin at the flustered state of her comrade. An odd reaction to a forest fire, but not so to Mick. She smiles warmly at the girl’s pokemon. Motions to Mercy to accept the aid.

Her hands come together as the two women lead the team inwards. The heat of disaster is so inviting. She turns to Lucille again, studying her with a warm and trusting expression laying default on her features, quite different from the goings on within.

Lucille is a fine specimen. Built well and fervently maintained. Mick itches to study more of the anatomy behind this woman’s dress, admire the human form. Honor it.

She wonders of the personality behind the physique. It will be quick to reveal itself with proper nursing. Mick props a cheek in an awaiting hand, furrows her brow. She has many clues already.

”Lucille Vanderbilt, yes? I am afraid the times we spent together were quite short. I am rather forward for the lack of an established relationship between us. Sorry about that. Mick Malade, fellow rocket grunt.” Smiling. ”Quite convenient this disaster attracted the two of us at once.”

Hail falls quite rapidly now, pelting the trees, recoiling the flames in a battle of hisses. Mercy emerges from the clearing, the bear following. Her strides bring her to Mick’s side once more.

Mick strokes her white fur, gazes heavily into Lucy’s eyes.

---

@lucy

actions taken: good hailstorm, team

“No, not at all.” Mick looks ahead, eyes the retreating fire. She looks back to Lucy. Her brow lifts at the inclusion of a highly charged sexual term, particularly placed after a brief hesitation.

Uncertainty makes her sway to and fro, Mick notices. Seemingly, Lucy’s mind is far from this forest. Seemingly, it focuses on other, more physically gratifying endeavors.

Mick cares little about the shrine itself. The years had not been kind to the grand tribute, inviting hooligans to taint its mystique with trash and wear. This fire was a necessary cleansing of the space. Destruction would return it to the former glory of old.

Though, perhaps now was indeed a good time to silence the catastrophe. Mick can see the power she wields over this woman rather obviously. For only being within her company for a few short moments, Lucy’s flustered state is quite loud. Mick wonders what can be done with it.

Touch is always a powerful tool. She places a strong hand on the lower reaches of Lucy’s huge shoulder. Her expression remains the same. Friendly, warm.

”Come, dearest. This fire requires more from us.” She leans in to better gauge the subtleties of Lucille’s body language, lingers there, retreats. Mick takes a long stride in the direction of the storm, beckoning Lucy and her companion to follow.

Mercy bounds ahead like a flash.

---

@lucy

actions taken:

Lucy is a genuine and warm woman. A people pleaser with a lack of social prowess, she is quick to appease; particularly when the recipient is one she fancies more so than a mere acquaintance.

She is a brutish sort, a physical force. Her movements clue Mick in to a headstrong and often impulsive nature, one that can be manipulated if the right cues are fed.

Quick to trust, easygoing, a believer.

Mick does not quite understand how Lucille Vanderbilt ended up as a Rocket, but can deduce how the steps chose to unfold. Regardless, Mick is happy to have her now.

The pair make it to site quickly. Mick laughs at the grandiose gestures of Lucille, tucks some hair behind an ear as her eyes linger on. This woman is a weapon.

A very quirky weapon.

”Indeed.” Mick confirms Lucy’s observations, scans the immediate area. Her eyes end on Lucille. ”A pity, isn’t it. This place.” Mick sighs, some authenticity leaking through her meticulously constructed exterior.

She really loves pretty things and weeps when humanity destroys them so easily. Thus she grants them similar fates when given the chance. It’s only just.

”What do you suggest, Lucille? Perhaps you’re better read in dealing with disasters such as these.”

---

@lucy

actions taken:

Ah, perhaps Lucille also possesses some traits of an empath. She seems like the type to linger on others’ emotions. Her first suggestion ties itself to them. Shrine maidens, hm?

Mick nods with affirmation. She cares little for their fates; those feeble women. Her eyes find Mercy, Mercy’s own connect the gaze between them. ”Smell them out if you can, dear.”

Don’t bother trying to save them if the chance is there.

The silent command is registered as fully as the vocal one. The ninetales spins on her limber paws and leaps towards the trace amounts of scent that catches her attention.

Mick turns back to Lucy. She’s smiling at her still, rather queerly. Her grin juxtaposed with the fire behind them is even more bizarre but, hey, maybe the woman just likes a good heatwave. ”Very good. Mercy is pretty adept at hunting. Her nose is strong.”

Mick begins to walk the remnants of the shrine, crouching to brush ash from fallen stone. She wishes she could honor what once stood but for what purpose? Time will deal it a similar fate soon enough. Such are the ways of human nature.

”Come, Lucille. You see these inscriptions? This place was a sanctuary for religious figures but also men and women of science. The technologies discovered here bred whatever started this fire, I’m sure.” The flames hiss behind her theories. She stands, brushes off her knees.

The structure of the shrine glows orange. Mick attempts to get closer only to upset the fragile skeleton of the shrine’s remains.

Some smoldering lumber falls from above, threatens to pin Mick below it if left to fall as it does. Mick gasps, looks to Lucille.

---

@lucy

actions taken: