[attr="class","isratalk"]

"They have their uses." though she and the gardevoir have many differences the pokemon usually comes around at some point.

She feels the pull of the psychic type, a gentle tug of her attention and she gives it, turning in the direction she seems to want to go. She follows the pokemon's lead without hesitation, expecting that her improved companion will be able to take the hint. "I would hope so, at least enough she can heal them if need be." and teleport them back, as that would be the easiest course of action.

She scoffs at his question though, because that's far too silly a notion for her. "Any lover of mine stupid enough to get lost like this isn't worth looking for."

"What sort of thing could they possibly be holding onto for you?" to come all the way out here? must be rather important.

cadis von klaussner

[attr="class","isratalk"]

She treads through the path again, this time looking for something specific that seems to continue to allude her. She's stumbled upon the little creature before and it must be only a matter of time before she finds another den of them somewhere. Hoenn is not without its fair share of pokemon however and she finds that her target does not come to her nearly as easy as she would like for it to.

It pus annoyance in her step, but only barely.

>>solo wild

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"Mm, then we are both here for the same reason it seems." she's not surprised, it seems all too likely for one too many people to end up on the same track like this. She's more amused than anything. "So i suppose that's a yes."

She looks him over, a quirk in her brow but no further comment. "The same as you it would seem. Though whether or not it's the same person we seek is of course up for debate."

She'd half expect it not to be, or perhaps it'll be a surprise to the both of them when they find them. A whistle calls out her gardevoir and the pokemon regards the other man with the same vague curiosity that Isra had. A gesture of her hand leads the pokemon to reaching out into the area with its psychic energy, seeking their mark.

cadis von klaussner

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra mulls over the situation, tumbling the information around in her head. He worries little about the figure head at the top but Isra sees the importance of her position regardless of the scandal swirling around her. Each playing piece has it's own perks and draw back and having them all perfectly placed in her head gives her a better frame of reference.

"To find our now missing elite 4 member before the region falls apart?" it won't really. They all know they'll just appoint another in his place before long and move on. That's how these things work. She's not worried about the position nearly as much as the other elements in play. Then again, there's a few too many that have managed to go astray over night, isn't there?

Isra looks over at him for a moment, head tilting to the side in curiosity. "That sounds like too much of a suicide mission for your tastes." especially after this last disaster, who knows how many more f them might be on the other side of a worm whole or two.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","isratalk"]

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"Well that's no fun at all."

she's clearly disappointed in the lack of details, not even so much as a real hook or bait. She can appreciate his caution, the way he tip toes around it but states he's doing so but it only leaves her wondering more than not. Pestering seems unlikely to get her much further, at least for now. She supposes it should be expected after a point.

"Could have at least given me some sort of ridiculous lie to laugh at you know." Isra returns to her tea, finding it has gone cold in the cool evening air and sets it back down. Whatever might be wasted is of little concern anyway, she prefers the specially ordered tea she wakes to every evening anyway.

Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"You."

There's no other way to put it, no other answer is cohesive. She watches him closely, vaguely aware of the content wooloo that has returned to sit on her feet while he waits for them to move on with the night. Her focus is on Fernando however because as always she can't quite believe he means what seems to be asking of her but she can't shake the feeling in her mind about him either.

If only he weren't always so bloody difficult..

Isra takes solace in his question, it's better to answer it than to let them dwell on something that might leave them too much room to dig. "Perhaps." she thinks over the trail of her night. elijah gardner had been something oddly endearing, enough so she still had the flowers he gave her in her hair. Blue petals sweet on the red of her shirt. Though she didn't feel any such pull to Cillian Quinn there was no denying how she enjoyed his company no matter how brief.

She looks away from Fernando when she thinks that she's almost certain she saw the dear royal Remiel Calcifet amongst the crowd at some point in the evening, there's a fondness for him she's not eager to linger on. "Why, wondering what the competition might be?" she teases.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"At least in passing." she comments, because with so many people there was always the chance they would miss each other even if only barely. It wasn't like there weren't enough recognizable faces to make the public flock and she's certain many tried to join themselves for the sole purpose of trying to get a chance with a member of the council or a gym leader or elite four. It was inevitable at events like these.

He admits to a chance encounter she thinks he should have expected and she laughs, only restraining herself to keep others from looking at their table more than some already might be. His face won't go unnoticed after all but she's not about to attract attention to her's too. She doesn't bother to cover her mouth and hide the grin, not with him. They've long since passed such formalities by and she digs under his skin by it, a doubtless foundation of whatever their relationship was.

But then he surprises her and it stops her laughter short.

Isra props her elbows up on the table, leaning forward ever so slightly. She's skeptical, but only because he never seems like he can quite make up his mind. "Since when did you even like mine that much?" she asks, just as quietly.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","isratalk"]

There's no surprise on her face, it's just like him to not only be here but to somehow cross her path just as easily. Even when she's nowhere near lilycove she cannot seem to escape his inevitable presence.

"Fernando."

She takes her seat, the wooloo at her side trotting up to his ankles with a determined bleat of greeting as if it must be acknowledged as much as she should be. "I should have expected to see you here."

Isra's not sure if she's happy or annoyed, never quite able to decide how she feels about the man. One moment he's not so bad and the next she thinks he's impossible and better kept at arms reach. She defaults to a neutral greeting out of habit.

"Manage to woo anyone at least?"

FERNANDO SILPH
attire in the first paragraph + blue flowers in her braid from elijah <3

[attr="class","isratalk"]

There's an almost pleased grin to be found on her face at his gesture, something she recognizes from a bygone part of her life. It's almost silly to see it again now in such a manner but it tickles her fancy for the moment nonetheless.

"Hmm...." she sits on his answer, eyes drawn by the movement of his pokemon and for the pokemon they are easier to settle on than he is. His answer has most certainly surprised her, but more so in the fact he phrases it in a way that makes sense- that she can't see an immediate flaw in.

It's only the chime ending the round that draws her out of the rabbit hole of her thoughts, because she thinks he might have a bit of a point but she own't dare vocalize that. To agree out loud makes the agreement real and it means she cannot deny the notion later.

"It seems we've run out of time, another night then my dear." she returns the gesture with a playful wink as she rises from her seat. A snap of her fingers draws back the wondering wooloo to her side and they depart for another short lived conversation.

Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"They most certainly do not." she reaffirms, appreciating that he understands the importance of good social etiquette even if some others do not. Then again it's part of what makes him acceptable company.

He laughs and Isra considers it an acceptable answer, though the smile on her face can be easily assumed to be just as played up as any other expression the woman wears there's a hint of something genuine in it.

She chuckles. "Good, if I ever do I expect to be put out of my misery." there's a certain frankness to her tone that goes beyond the norm, a genuine disdain for the subject at hand leaking through in the comfortable state of a company she doubts will question her sentiment. "Yes, I suppose someone might regardless, but the real question then is, would you give them the chance?"

She turns her head, narrowing her eyes to eye him out of the corner of her eye in a dramatic and critical flare. It's an over the top play meant to fit with the rest of this ridiculous scrutiny of her fellow rocket, Gavin Merlino.

Cillian Quinn

[attr="class","isratalk"]

The breeze is slight, gentle in the early spring air. It drifts out over the walk ways of Slateport, trailing stray fragrances from the various events being held in the warmly lit buildings of the port city. Vibrant and buzzing with the affairs of a night many look forward to, couple thrumming with energy as they walk by hand in hand. The wind finds an abandoned pair of heels at the base of the steps that lead to the beach, left behind to slowly collect sand from the steps until their owner returns for them.

Half steps have left a trail in the sand, moving away from the stone of the city steps. Though the heels were abandoned the shape of the steps hasn't changed, tip toes leaving almost nothing behind. At first the trail is steady, reaching out into the stretch of beach that span out before the city, drifting towards the edge of the shore. Then they become seemingly sporadic, jumping from one place to another across the sands.

If one looks close enough they'll find a pattern there, being embedded into the grains of sand with every step. It starts with something simple, the wide steps painting stars into the sand with every move. Connect the dots and they start to become recognizable as things most everyone can see in the night sky. Ursa major, minor, Scorpius and crux, the stars flit across their grainy sky, slipping in between the umbrellas pinned down into the beach.

Further into the sands sits the likes of Cetus and Draco, finding the space for constellations of increasing complexity. Scattering them across the sands with reckless abandon and clear favoritism. Some are done delicately, others in messy half steps for the sake of filling the space before someone can walk across it and ruin it.

Just like the stars in the sky, her ones in the sand are doomed to falter as beach going couples and the tide washing ashore seek to eat her little whimsies and stash them at the bottom of the sea.

For now Isra treads along the shore line, dancing with the tides as it washes ashore and ebbs back out to sea. Toes tickled by seawater when she fails to avoid it, breaking away from the numbness of the cold water before it comes back in again. The breeze plays with the mess of her braid, pulling at the blue flowers still settled in its nooks and crannies, playing at being a delicate pool bellow the plum moon that sits at the top of her braid. She hums a tune, The Gartan mother's lullaby something she remembers from a past life gone astray.

It's still fresh on her lips when she turns to find a familiar face somewhere on the surface of the sand night sky she has been painting.

Remiel Calcifet