Nanette usually abhorred heat. But it was different when she was seeking it out willingly. This was one of those occasions where she was chasing the sun and the heat. It had been a stroke of luck that Nanette had managed such a prime spot – the halfway point between sand and sea. It had taken longer than she would have liked to set up her parasol (bright red, of course, to match her swim suit), but the shady reprieve was all the more worthwhile once it was done. The need to run wild and free had left her rapidash, and Mila was now content to settle in the sand in bask. D’Artagnan was dozing beneath the parasol, and Nanette was more than happy to sunbathe.

The crash of waves, the raucous laughter of children, and a cool salty breeze…it was picturesque. Could Hoenn really be this peaceful, however briefly?

She reached for her drink – a pina colada complete with a line of saccharine sweet cherries – and then barely snatched her hand out of the way fast enough. There had been something whizzing by in her periphery, and then it found home. A volleyball sailing right by her. Right at her drink. Knocking it askew. Oh…

Well, it wasn’t as if Nanette couldn’t buy another one, but she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. She had been close to dozing off, lulled by the sounds of the sea and the warmth of the light. There was pineapple smeared on her hand; Nanette wiped it off with the wrap knotted loosely around her waist.

“Don’t worry about it! Here, heads up!”

Her cousin had been more of the volleyball aficionado between them (she preferred tennis when she did play actual sports), but it seemed a simple enough concept. Just whack the volleyball back to its owner, and then she could replenish her casualty of sport.

yeet | mission

☉

At least he could walk without assistance. That was good. Still, Nanette would be mindful of every other factor. She wasn’t Thaddeus’ babysitter, but when people were drunk, it was just better to be safe than sorry. The last time her cousin had gotten drunk, they had found him asleep in a soccer field and tangled up in the net. And then Milo had been across the city that very same day with unfinished paperwork to change his name to Jamiroquai. Their hangovers had been terrible, and Nanette had been the one to look at them sternly from beyond the rim of her coffee cup. Thankfully, both of them – five years older, the two of them – had seemed contrite through the pain.

Nanette vacillated for only a moment before trailing after Thaddeus. The air in Lilycove was salty from the sea, but still faintly sweet, too. The city’s name was apt. The cool night wind was a welcome change from the damp heat of the club. A shower at the hotel, and then another spritz of Kirsch, and she would be very content with the evening. Maybe she'd even top it off with a rom-com. One on her laptop, not the television if one wasn't already playing on local cable. She wasn't going to pay for a film unless it was being projected on a gigantic screen.

“I’m staying close by. I can get you your cigarettes while you rest for a bit…I might as well get something for you to drink, too.”

The light of her phone was harsh outside the gloom of the club. Nanette squinted at her screen. Not even a five-minute walk away, that was good. And if Thaddeus could traipse out of the booming club so confidently, then she was hopeful that he could make it that far.

“You didn’t strike me as the club type,” Nanette said. She was already turning to walk were the directions dictated. “How have you been? That day at the school was nice. I had fun, then.”

Despite Thaddeus’ sharp words, she had been content to play and let a bevy of children braid her long, long hair. It had left her feeling…happy. Light, even. d'Artagnan and Mila had been pleased as punch after that afternoon, too. Given the way Thaddeus looked and acted, though, she had a feeling he had not gotten the same sense of accomplishment from the endeavor.

@kane

☉

There was something so very charming about this Shalin. Wild was very apt – and there was that wild energy and ease to her from the wind-swept blonde hair to the bright eyes. Nanette favored her with a warm smile before adjusting her cap.

“Nanette Sanguine, a cadet. I’m afraid I don’t have any interesting superlative.”

Nanette’s gaze followed where Shalin pointed. Now that was interesting…Nanette glanced from the long expanse of puddles down to Mila, and, well…she knew that was a fruitless endeavor. It wasn’t that Mila didn’t enjoy tromping through the mud, but there would be an even bigger expense of energy. There was no telling when her hooves would get caught in muck, and they’d struggle to get loose.

“That sounds like it’d be amazing to see. I don’t have any flying types, unfortunately.” Nanette looked at wistful as she sounded.

And for however much Nanette dreamed of a great fluffy altaria to cuddle, that had yet to come true.

“Do you have any flying type with you? I’d love to hear about your adventure once you’re back.”

Because no matter how much Nanette would love to accompany Shalin, it wasn’t exactly feasible…And there was no way a stranger would invite her willy-nilly on the little expedition of a lifetime.

Shalin Nariya

☉

Nanette did not consider herself a violent woman in the least. But it was, perhaps, a mixture of the heat and her righteous anger that made her want to punch him in the face. And that might not have been effective, but years of dancing had given her legs some strength. So she also wanted to kick him where the sun didn’t shine. Somewhere vital, somewhere painful. Her expression was taut with simmering (get it? Because of the heat? Anyway…) rage.

His question was not worthy of a response. Instead, Nanette narrowed her eyes at the barest peek of the rucksack on his shoulder.

He spoke of dissection and skinning so easily, so it wasn’t hard to guess what was writhing around in there. Nanette pursed her lips, one hand on her hip. Mila was nickering behind her, pawing at the sand impatiently. That was one advantage, at least. Her rapidash was thriving in the heat. It wouldn’t be hard to give chase if it came to that. Still…this man seemed far too at ease.

“Sir,” she said, her voice flat. “May I see the contents of your bag, please?”

And though incandescent with anger, Nanette was nothing if not polite.

@vallen | mission

☉

The nidorino hadn’t been much cause for alarm. But then the ursaring was bellowing beside it, and Nanette knew this might be something to be concerned about. Nanette nodded bracingly at Annalise’s confidence. It was like a veritable tale of David and Goliath. Featuring an extra nidorino charging back and forth. While the meowstic (apparently named Tuna, which was utterly adorable) focused on the nidorino, d’Artagnan circled the ursaring slowly.

“D’Artagnan, use psycho cut!”

Her gallade broke into a run, ducking beneath the ursaring’s pinioning arms. There was a glow along d’Artagnan’s arm and the heavy blow of his attack against the ursaring. Whether by its thick hide, sheer rage, or both, the ursaring took the attack manfully.

“About six months,” Nanette said. “I know I’ve seen your name floating around. I just get a bit nervous about approaching others.”

Especially outside of work or school. Proper social interaction? It was a daunting task. Nanette looked sheepish, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Annalise was bubbly and charming – someone Nanette definitely wanted as a friend…but Nanette? Actually approaching someone first? Touch luck on that.

annalise henderson | mission

☉

If Nanette had a nickel for every time someone had asked her if they were real…well, she’d have about twenty-five cents. Which wasn’t a lot in the grand scope of things, but it was still odd and a little disturbing it had even happened to begin with. And she was never one for acts of violence (not with Antoni and her own gallade being more than willing when they perceived her honor being slighted), so she could only really fix Thaddeus with her most withering expression possible…which, he probably didn’t even notice considering where he was looking. At least he wasn’t adverse to staying close. If Thaddeus ran off in this state, Nanette was worried she’d be hearing news tomorrow morning about a man sleeping in the park, arrested for public indecency, or worse.

“Yes,” she answered, sighing. And that was where she would leave that topic.

“Maybe we can get some fresh air. And then you can rest while I get your cigarettes,” Nanette suggested gently. It was like trying to coax a child. So far, it was a strategy that seemed to work well…on family and friends. But she didn’t know Thaddeus beyond a bad attitude and a foul mouth.

“Can you walk? You can lean on me…for now.”

@kane

☉

This was definitely an impromptu mission meant for a ranger of actual experience. If she tried to help the raging Pokémon downstairs, she’d likely be torn apart and then what good would she be? If she tried to go after this vigilante, then there was still a chance for horrific injury. But if he was going after the next target…it had to be someone bigger. At least there, there would be concrete evidence. A metaphoric paper trail of notes and files; maybe she could actually diffuse the situation.

“Can you at least leave the next one…alive? For now? There’s more evidence that can be gleaned.”

This man could go either with her…or Nanette would give him a head start then have d’Artagnan track him and she’d give chase. Either way, she’d be there. She wasn’t so naïve to believe that pacifism was the absolute answer to everything, but it was law and structure that separated people from real monsters…Besides, what was this? That hit-fantasy-television-show-turned-flop – Aegis and Slash?

Thomas Benoit

☉

D’Artagnan was usually very careful. Maybe it came with age. Her gallade had been with her for years and had always acted more as a protector than a peer. With age came wisdom and all the other things. Physical things. Like an apparently increasing fondness for free-form jazz, an even stronger penchant for their morning runs, and joint pains. Aches. Very grown-up things, and more reminders that she was growing up, and d’Artagnan was getting older. He never let it hold him back, but Nanette couldn’t help but worry. He was limping a bit after a mission, shrugging off her concerns until she had given him a look.

Nanette only hesitated in front of the clinic for a moment. She did not like barging into places like this without an appointment, but her concern for her partner came first.

There was a man at the front desk – white hair and red eyes not unlike her own. On his lap, a beautiful glaceon. Nanette felt even worse for just walking in willy-nilly, but when d’Artagnan winced at the weight on his leg, her resolve was solidified.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry for just walking in without an appointment, but I’m worried about my gallade. We were working in the field two days ago, and I think he might have pulled something. He’s been limping. I thought it was something that would go away with a compress, but it’s lingering.”

And d’Artagnan made a noise that was quite huffy. She knew him. Stubborn old thing, who would push through broken bones if it meant getting the work done. But it was impossible to hide things from a partner. Nanette’s expression was taut with concern.

“If there’s any way to squeeze d’Artagnan in for a check-up, I’d be grateful.”

ryuuzaki amemiya

☉

By now, Nanette knew better than to argue with someone this deep in substances for the night. After Milo had burst into a fit of overemotional tears because he had once again realized she was a grown woman (“You grow up so fast! Too fast! Toni, make it stop!”), Nanette had learned to be agreeable and gentle. So when Thaddeus called her Cigarenettie, she just nodded. Yes, that was her. Cigarnettie for the evening, or whatever nickname Thaddeus would call her tonight.

“I bought you another pack. And I can buy you more,” she said, her tone soothing. “How much did you drink tonight?”

Because it certainly seemed like too much, but, well, not her circus so certainly not her monkey. At the very least, she could make sure he slept it off safely. If she was going to buy him cigarettes, Nanette thought she might as well load him up with medicine for the subsequent hangover, too. Maybe a pair of sunglasses for the morning? The sunlight would not be kind to Thaddeus.

“Are you staying nearby?” Nanette ventured. “Maybe it’s time to get you back.”

@kane

☉

He said date, and Nanette was an adult. She knew dates could be as platonic as they were romantic. Still, the romantic in her was always going to be a tad unreasonable; she couldn’t help the tiniest flutter of her pulse. Her cheeks felt warm, but it was fine. She knew better. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been on dates before. None of them had amounted to much. Perfunctory greetings, texts that said they ought to meet again soon but they never did, and the like.

“I’m fine with any. Each café has their own charm.”

Which was why she varied which one she went to for her studies. Some she went to late at night because of their hours, others she went to early because they had cupcakes to die for, and she would be remiss if she didn’t get one before they sold out for the day. Nanette perused the labels of the sandwiches before settling on a pastrami on rye.

There was a knock on the door. The flighty director was half-draped over the door frame, and their expression was nothing short of wild delight.

“Great to see you two are getting along…because our next scenes will be a little spicy!”

And then the director was skipping off. Nanette’s expression was practiced and collected…but her ears were bright red as she said –

“That’s show biz, I suppose.”

Marshall Slade | mission

☉

Even if Nanette felt she lacked the Sanguine charm and ease, people (most oglers at clubs or when they thought she couldn’t hear) said she had a nice. And, yes, Nanette prided herself on staying physically healthy if nothing else. So she wasn’t some wilting, blushing flower bubmling down the runway. Chin up, shoulders back, and posture straight. Nanette brushed her hair back and just…well, she walked. As she normally did. But years of etiquette and dance seemed to have some positive effect on her gait, at least. And while having so many eyes on her in a bikini was a bit daunting, it was for a good cause.

And beside her – apoplectic with protective rage – was her gallade. D’Artagnan was nothing if not visibly composed, though. Nanette could see the tension in his shoulders, though, and the slightest stiffness as he held a hand out to her at the end of the runway.

He twirled her like a lady at a ballroom, and Nanette ended her spin with a practiced bow. It really did feel like a dance hall with the pageantry…there was just a distinct lack of clothing.

|7cxnDxp

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swimsuit ref.

@

☉

It was a question she got occasionally, and Nanette always considered her answer carefully. Because there were a thousand reasons and perhaps a million outside factors, all equally as important, that led her to where she was today – dressed in ranger red and blue, standing atop the craggy heights of Mt. Chimney with her capable, lovely superior. So, naturally, Nanette could list any one of those reasons and they would be true.

“I’ve always wanted to help people and Pokémon. My mother is a surgeon in Kalos, and I’m good at science. When I came here, I knew I wanted to help, somehow. I was stuck between choosing a residency at a human hospital or Pokémon center or becoming a cadet.”

She paused only to traipse over a fallen log – the wood worn and ashen. Her arms were aloft to keep her balance, graceful as a dancer. Once across, Nanette continued, and her tone was thoughtful.

“When I could talk to a recruiter, that solidified it for me. That I could use my knowledge in an immediate way. Not to be rude, but Hoenn is…well, it’s a bit crazy. So I want to help with that, even a little.”

For all Nanette’s private gripes about the heat and the constant dampness, she was growing to love this region, its people, and everything else it had. More than anything, the people of Hoenn persevered. And while they themselves were more than a little insane, the people here – whether born and raised or more seasoned transplants – were passionate. It was hard not to be enamored with that ferocity.

Elinor Anderson | mission

☉