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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 9:08:22 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

She had half a mind to refuse the food at that point, anger knotting her stomach. However, having not eaten in a day, the hunger quickly unknotted all obstacles of the ego and pulled her towards survival.

With a defeated sigh, she crossed her legs beneath her and sat at the end of the table. And then, what began as a couple of gingerly taken bites escalated into unabashed shoveling. She made no eye contact. Actually, her eyes were lightly squeezed shut, as she tried to will away the sad irony of the fact that it was the best meal she’d had in years.

Fuck you.

When she finished, she stared at the chopsticks after she’d set them down. Sharing such close space with him in this sort of way felt eerily similar to nights at the bar, and she loathed it.

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 9:47:34 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"] “Not bad, huh?”

To describe it with such mundane words doesn’t do the dish justice. While it may not look like the most appetizing meal when shipped to-go, the taste is second to none. Slateport’s fine dining culminates in a blend of aromatic spices from Sinnoh with the glaze and cooking of Unovian fine meats. Such a luxury should be shared in formal dress, crowned in an event, savored in the ambiance of the resturant itself.

But Fernando finds the triviality pointless. A good meal is one enjoyed. He makes it a point to eat ‘good’ all day, every day, as the opportunity presents itself.

The similarities between Lulu and his Kecleon becomes uncanny when they both scarf down their food. The Pokemon one ups her by licking its plate clean but there’s still plenty left. Fernando keeps the rest of his Pokemon inside their Pokeballs so he’s yet to divide the rest out. He looks at her strikingly vacant plate, swallowing his latest bite, “did you want more? You can help yourself."

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saoirse quinn

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 10:42:54 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

Lulu cut eyes at the chopsticks and eventually blinked up at him. Her sharp stare read that she didn’t intend to fall for any tricks. “This feels like…” she rubbed the pads of two fingers together under the table, fidgeting, “Last meal before execution or something.”

She paused, considering briefly. “Depends on when I’m gonna eat again.” Not if.

She then looked down to eye the Kekleon next to her, and her heart sunk a bit, but her face was trained well enough not to show it. “What happened to my pokemon?”

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 21:06:36 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]"Last meals would be more appropriate." Half-way into his own meal, Fernando lacks the same bite from earlier. His composition treats their discussion with an fluid amount of indifference, as if they were nothing more than sharing a meal between friends. The implication and severity of Lulu's livelihood, much less her actual life, has no distinction in such casual conversation.

It's as if she's no longer an individual. As if his decision has been made. The way he remains detached to such an important statement only validations the concession that she is no longer an individual but a mere number. She's to become a statistic that no one cares about. It's no longer personal.

"Ah. Since you won't be needing them," he cuts another piece with the tip of his chopsticks, "I've made them my own. I'll put them to good use."

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saoirse quinn

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 22:17:05 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

She nodded once, chin drawing a line up and down as her head dipped back some. So, he did plan to kill her / scramble her brain.

Giving them away would have been one thing. Put them in a foster care system, not with this crazy vigilante asshole. This was insult to injury. He hadn’t killed her quick enough, and now he was stealing all of her shit.

She sighed, smiled lightly and shook her head. “Great.” Stare was a thousand yards off the chopsticks. “Take care of them for me.”

Something she was seeing held her attention a moment longer. Her eyes then dropped even more, and she chewed a bit on the inside of her cheek. A moment later, out of the blue, a fist broke straight through the air towards his face—not perfectly aimed, as she hadn’t been looking at him, but well in the general area.

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 22:41:10 GMT

Lulu Flint likes this

[attr="class","spiral"]“…?!”

He should have seen it coming. Granted, for a man who shows no remorse in his actions, he’s treated her much better than he should of. Sparing her even the slightly sense of humanity is too great a privilege for something, or someone, disposable. He’s not even sure why he bothers.

Fernando raises his right leg when he sense sudden movement. He’s trying to reel back, get onto his feet, but he’s much too late for the way Lulu closes the gap. It allows her to land a clean blow to his right cheek, scuffing right above his jawline with a resounding ‘smack’. The blow, coupled by the surprise factor, sends him reeling back, landing on the palm of his hands as she knocks him clean on his ass.

Her jab strikes true. He’s bleeding, a small incision tracing across the horizontal line of his cheek bone. It flows slowly, warm crimson pooling at its edges.

“Tch.”

Whether she had intended for it to be a single blow, a moment of weakness with her brash action, matters not. Fernando does not give her the opportunity to follow up. Planting all his weight onto his feet, he pushes off the floor, rising on his feet with both hands help up, covering his face, a defensive boxing stance borrowed from Nash, as he stands poised to retaliate.

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 23:19:00 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

Lulu was scrappy, strong, and fast with great reflexes. But, her hands weren’t very trained, except for what she’d picked up along the way. Any clean technical abilities Fernando had on her would, unfortunately, trump all of those things. No matter, though. She had already won, in her own head. Her pride was smiling. The blood dripping down the side of his face was satisfactory enough.

This did not mean she would stop the same way she had at the bar. This wasn’t about egging him on. This was about self-expression. The edge of her mouth twitched in a smirk.

She leapt up and descended, throwing a baiting punch straight into the center of his guard, the other elbow cocked back and ready to swing.

Fuck it.

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POSTED ON Feb 26, 2021 23:40:14 GMT

Lulu Flint and chryssa glasgow like this

[attr="class","spiral"]

[attr="class","spiral"]Make no mistake. His own posture is not a call to duel. It’s defensive in nature to grant him time. All he needs is a small window to readjust, to assess and reposition until he can pivot the game board into a state favorable to him. The fact that he’s able to get onto his feet, a clean guard up in place, means that victory is already his.

In an all-out brawl, with nothing but their fists, it wouldn’t be unusual for Lulu to win more often than lose. Fernando’s combat abilities are nothing special: basic self-defense from several lessons with a frame built made for running and raw strength rather than martial arts.

Her punch comes out, straight for his guard, but he doesn’t counter. There’s no need to push off. All he has to do is continue to play defense, backing up several steps, to grow as much distance, any distance, that he can between them. An inch? A foot? Doesn’t matter.

Because what’ll stop her isn’t him. It’s the BINDING tongue of his Kecleon that spits out to entangle the wrist of her other arm, the one set to catch him by surprise with an uppercut. Only when the surprise factor shifts in his favor does he respond with a simple straight jab for her opposite shoulder.

Should the land connect, Fernando’s Kecleon will show her a true FEINT, poised to tug on her arm to propel itself for a follow up SUCKER PUNCH. The tag-team, as unpracticed as it is, is a testament to his battle style. It is sheer numbers that make up what he lacks in finesse.

“Who do you work for?”

Fernando spits the question out as he rears back in for another punch, this time looking to score against the pocket of her ribcage. He pulls his punches, not set to actually maim her, but to increase his speed to continuously batter her in constant blows. Each time he comes in, he repeats the question.

“Who do you work for?”

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saoirse quinn

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2021 4:24:52 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

The tickling sensation of adrenaline was a much-welcomed feeling. There would be no stopping once she’d started. Straight teeth were bared at him like a wild dog, heat in the front of her shoulder as she swung hard at a target that simply backed up.

She would have stumbled forward a step all on her own in the overzealous throwing of her bodyweight, had his Kecleon not saved her. Grabbed by the wrist by its tongue, she found herself unable to move after him at first. Frustrated, she growled, but the sound was knocked out of her chest sharply when Fernando's fist impacted the side of her torso.

What followed was a barrage. Lulu could take a hit. If he wasn’t hitting to hurt, it only fueled her. She got her own in where she could occasionally, even a stray foot or two towards the assaulting Kecleon, hit or miss.

She put up a hard fight. Unfortunately, as raindrops eventually wither stone, Fernando’s arms—and the supporting extremities of his lizard assistant—delivered blows that were eventually able to weaken Lulu Flint in their quantity.

She still didn’t answer him, however.

Panting, she held back for just a moment, and concluded her assault by spitting at him—clear into his face. What followed was another quick, firm, “Fuck you.”

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2021 6:07:05 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]

[attr="class","spiral"]Fernando has no qualms with beating her silly. He’s not here to break her but some people need to learn their place. Negative reinforcement may prove ineffective over a long period of time but it always yields immediate results.

Her spit lands right on his nose and Fernando wipes it off with the palm of his hand. He doesn’t so much as blink, eyes still fixed on her.

“Who are you protecting?”

And he slaps her with that same hand, saliva and all.

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saoirse quinn

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2021 6:36:00 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

His hand came across her face, and she felt the sliminess of her own spit smooth across her cheek with a sharp 'SMACK.' Her head turned with it. She was tired, and made no countering blow, even though she’d seen it coming. Expected it, even.

“Myself.”

And it could’ve been true. As far as she was aware, Rocket, in the face of a traitor, would do much worse than FERNANDO SILPH would even dream of doing to her. Then again, she still somehow thought she was facing someone who sort of played by the rules in one way or another.

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2021 6:51:24 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“You’re doing a pretty shit job, Quinn. Or is that a part of your strategy?”

It’s the first time he’s broken the farce. His steely façade gives way to the brimming condescending sense of superiority he has over her as his hand retracts for another slap. This time he’s delicate, enough to hear the satisfaction of his own strike but not enough to leave any permanent marks. How far can he push her without breaking her?

“I hope they’re looking for you with the same vigor you’re putting into protecting them. Hope it means a lot to them. I hope they remember you.”

And he seals it with another kiss from his palm.

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saoirse quinn

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2021 7:24:45 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH
SOCIAL

She snarled up at him. This was, at least, better than sitting together at the coffee table, letting that disgusting sense of familiarity set in.

Fernando began to come in at her from a different angle, and he would find that this one was much more effective. What he didn’t know and couldn’t see, no matter what was stripped away from her, was the wound which had yet to heal from her last interaction with her brother Cillian Quinn —the one which, in a roundabout way, had propelled her to confront Fernando in the first place.

Her nostrils flared and her teeth grit nearly hard enough to hear. He’d struck a nerve.

Just as his hand was coming in for another slap, she went into motion again as well. With all the force she could muster to save the world from a Silph Co. heir, her foot aimed for the jewels.

“Shut up!”

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2021 7:39:04 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Thank Arceus he’s worked her up.

Her punch from earlier had came from out of the blue. There’s no read behind it, no action that gives him an ounce of fear that a strike may come his way. That’s why she’s granted the clemency to land such a clean blow.

That won’t happen again.

The way she exhales. The sound of her teeth grinding. Whether it be frustration from her helplessness or something she’s said, he can tell she’s upset. Enough so to act on it. That’s why he has an inkling that he’s about to get hit again.

Up close, there’s no time to dodge. He has nothing to go against whatever she’s going to attempt. A headbutt? Another loogie? No! This time she goes with a kick straight center and up toward his most vulnerable place.

“…!”

On instinct, one that proceeds biology and comes straight from his own self-preservation, Fernando clenches his legs together as hard as he can, catching her foot between his knees and causing both of them to topple over.

His balance is off-key and he lands backwards, grunting.

“I’m going to break your leg,” he says with the same resolve as earlier, as if it’s a done deal.

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saoirse quinn

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