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POSTED ON Apr 12, 2021 23:54:30 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Dress lavish.

A small request but one he expects her to embrace in full. After all, that’s all she has to do. Everything that comes after is a delicate spread of hand picked bait laid out by yours truly. He may not understand her, only becoming acquainted to the caricature he’s molded out of her fractured persona, but this much he can surmise: she’ll enjoy the treat.

An offer is made to pick her up. However, Fernando reminds her that taking such a route is prone to paparazzi. The more lowkey approach would be for him to arrive first. Let them get their pictures and ask their questions. When their attention simmers and they retreat into the Devon building for the main event, that’s when she can come in without worry. Naturally, he’ll be waiting for her.

The dim night sky of Rustboro makes the building’s lighting that much more impressive. It illuminates the entire block in a saturated sea of white and yellow. The main entrance features a more muted glow, the perfect set up for a red carpet event.

Fernando stands outside, waiting for tonight’s date. A cursory glance at his watch pronounces that he’s much earlier than agreed upon. But rarely is he one to be late.

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saoirse quinn

she/her

october 27

circhester, galar

bisexual

physicist / inventor

head scientist

5’8” height

every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 13, 2021 0:56:10 GMT

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FERNANDO SILPH

She dressed in black. What else would be appropriate?

Slits ran high and low, sexy. Fur. Diamonds. Gloves: with purpose, but it looked high fashion. Her feet were covered with stilettoed boots, a hired FX makeup artist ultimately having folded at fully tattooed toes, because what the fuck—but the rest of the tricks worked. Hours of concealing, airbrushing, setting and perfectly matched hosiery, and her tattoos were gone with movie-star level illusion.

And, just to be extra safe, Saoirse Quinn was now dead. Died a week and a half prior via head-on collision with a drunk driver just outside of west Spikemuth. RIP. By this time, the news in Galar had finally shut up about it.

The typically looming scent of tobacco was wholly overwhelmed by wafting new perfume as she strode up to him. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK. Her steps were as deliberate as those which carried her down the hall of the submarine. She was working.

“Hi there.”

A typical Lulu greeting. Her skin crawled at the expression she felt herself force. It was soft, affectionate. It didn’t reflect her urge to grab him by the throat and demand answers.

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

august 12th

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POSTED ON Apr 13, 2021 22:44:37 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]Working indeed.

The sound of her steps, practiced with all the more intention, steal away his attention in a fashion that no one else can. When his eyes finally get a chance to feast upon the bountiful banquet that is her eye-candy, he can’t help but smile. For someone so known for his cold scowl, his time around Lulu has soften the gesture into something more genuine. It almost becomes a natural reaction as opposed to something he has to fake.

Which makes it all the more meaningful.

“Whew,” he whistles, adjusting his watch to sit underneath his wrist. “My parents warned me about women like you.” He clicks his tongue. “My father made me promise to never fall in love at first sight and I promised my mom I would never fall for someone on looks alone.”

He breaths an airy chuckle, extending a hand. “I hope they forgive me for my arrogance. I didn’t think someone like you would exist.”

His own attire pales in comparison. His suit is tailored, well fitted, but otherwise unremarkable. Coincidentally, he picks a matching shade of black. The resulting turtleneck and suit combo leaves him wholly unimpressive which is just the image he’s looking for. It makes it easier to escape into a crowd filled with flashy fashion and people wearing their utter best.

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saoirse quinn

she/her

october 27

circhester, galar

bisexual

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head scientist

5’8” height

every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 0:50:16 GMT

Women like her.

Her chin tilted. If Fernando really believed this woman didn’t read between the lines, he was as blind as a bat himself. Lulu read between, over, under, and through the lines—even the ones that weren’t there.

She looked at him a little too long; a little too sharp; a little too touched. Only for a moment, and then it was gone. “You’re very charming.”

Was it a memory?

(?)

... !

A glow seeped out from the door to the first circle of Hell, and she looked at it. “If I knew we were just going to stand outside, I would have said yes without question.”

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

august 12th

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silph co. ceo

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TAG WITH @silph

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 2:28:31 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“And here I thought you were shy.” His retort is made in good humor but has the gall to challenge her despite her Sunday best. “But what is prep time for someone dressed to the nines?”

He leads by example, “Shall we?”

A step into the lobby floor reveals a celebratory renovation set up to trump this year’s Christmas Party. Each and every Devon employee, sans those important enough to skip out without fear of repercussion, is in attendance. Some notice Fernando when he enters. Their attitudes vary, as per all walks of life.

Fernando makes his rounds with anyone bold or stupid enough to make eye contact. It’s almost methodological the way he sweeps through every circle. Introductions are made, titles passed around, with an appetizer of small talk and the occasional joke.

That’s the thing, Fernando rarely jokes.

The first set is someone from accounting. His second is someone from marketing. It’s the third strike where they get lucky. Engineering to be exact.

His eyes light up, passing a knowing glance to Lulu, as if cue for her to pick his brains. The questions are innocent, filled with wonder, and the perfect segue for her to chime in with her own expertise.

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saoirse quinn

she/her

october 27

circhester, galar

bisexual

physicist / inventor

head scientist

5’8” height

every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 6:07:30 GMT

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FERNANDO SILPH

Their energy division was gone; a heap of bones picked clean far before they’d known it. GMH had crushed what remained and absorbed the marrow. She stared back at more unwitting peers, in fields yet to be fucked. Who was the prettiest?

Lulu couldn’t mimic his charisma, of course, but as her words got larger and more obscure, they somehow began to flow easier than those he’d heard come from beside him at the bar, or wherever else they’d found themselves. She was locked in—clearly closer to a first language than he’d witnessed.

There would be attempts to allow him the floor, but if he couldn’t keep up, it would be clear she couldn’t help herself not to leave him far behind.

"<I'M REALLY SMART>"

Of course, nothing obvious of her own projects would be given if relevant topics crossed, but the desire for input would surely push her close to questions a little too specific at times. All this, considering the conditions of how long the richest man in the world would wait for his date to stop talking.

If he didn’t interupt, she would eventually draw herself out in a daze and glance up at him. 'Sorry.' They clearly kept her too pent up and lonely down in the ocean.

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 6:28:01 GMT

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[attr="class","spiral"]The conversation takes a turn for the worst. It escalates into a heap of vocabulary too advanced for their respective dates. Fernando hangs on to phrases that seem familiar, peering in from what little he picks up between his own engineering crew, but otherwise left in the dark as the topics become way too specific for someone not in the discipline.

And, as enthusiastic as the engineer they chanced upon is, even he has his limits. However, Lulu’s ability to keep him enraptured starts to perk certain ears. Key words take the attention of those around them and the conversation is an occurrence most tend to avoid during such social gatherings.

The nerds are drawn like Mothims. It reminds them of University, finding common ground among their fellow majors, descending into the only topic they can delve into with both passion and skills unmatched.

It gets to the point that Fernando has to excuse himself, silently moving away. A genuine smile graces his features, giving her a small wink before mouthing ‘have fun’ to her.

He has the rest of the company to show face to.

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saoirse quinn

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october 27

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every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 8:03:16 GMT

She wasn’t rushed, breathing easier when she felt the imposing tension of his presence leave her side. With him gone, the questions indeed got more specific. Some of them might’ve veered a little off-topic even, but she did her best to reword them as naturally as she could. Fit them into the conversation.

When an ear had gotten its fill, she finally excused herself as well. She would have stayed all evening chattering with them, which was entirely unlike her, but she wasn’t dressed for this. “It’s been wonderful to meet you all, but if you’ll excuse me...” She had the rest of the company to show thighs to. They looked brand spankin’ new, after all!

Boots made for walking made their way across the floor in search of him: the man three inches taller than the tallest person in the room—unless a stage made him taller.

She didn't like this. 'Wandering Lost Puppy' did not suit her.

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

august 12th

saffron

oppressive

silph co. ceo

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TAG WITH @silph

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 8:27:00 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]He finds her well before she can.

Fernando returns to her with a pair of riedel ouverture glasses. A lingering conversation with one of the employees had brought him to the bar. When their talk concludes and they set in their different ways, Fernando request a souvenir. The smell of anejo wavers between them, fragrant with potency.

“Well, you finished early,” is his way of prodding her from behind. He waits for her to turn around. “Did you have fun?”

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saoirse quinn

she/her

october 27

circhester, galar

bisexual

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head scientist

5’8” height

every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 8:49:13 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH

His voice behind her awakened more chemicals than it probably should have, and she was not sure if the goosebumps on her arms had come from the same origin as the hair standing on the back of her neck.

“Yes.”

She teetered internally and turned, and the smell of anejo weighed in his favor. Her eyes, up at him, may have looked complicated as she took the glass. They saw him at the bar once more—only it was on a night which things had escalated differently.

‘You bring out the worst in me, Lulu.’

What was real anymore?

“You know what I like.” She credited. Then, raised her glass. Cutting eyes. “What are we toasting?” Because surely it was something.

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

august 12th

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POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 9:00:36 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“I’m glad.”

Whatever turmoil concocted in her mind goes unnoticed. All he sees is the new and improved Lulu he had aided in ‘fixing’ her deficiencies. She’s better for it, he’s concluded, able to live a life where her baggage remains unclaimed, discarded in a reset that allows her to float between him and whatever double life she continues to partake in.

“You,” he quips, clinking his glass against hers. “To getting you out of the house for once.”

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saoirse quinn

she/her

october 27

circhester, galar

bisexual

physicist / inventor

head scientist

5’8” height

every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 9:25:25 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH

More chemicals. Toxic, even. Darkrai did what it could to sandbag, but even one god could only save a person so much.

When he raised his glass to her and stole the toast early, she broke out in an unexpected smile. Brain effectively hacked by him again, her frayed nerves laughed heartily, only silenced by a much needed sip of tequila.

Yeah. After explosions, a legion of ghosts, a clash of gods and hell on earth.

Out of the house.

“Thank you.” But it was genuine as she pressed a more fitting smile. “Suppose maybe I needed it, after all.”

“Have you made all your rounds?”

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

august 12th

saffron

oppressive

silph co. ceo

council member

1997 height

POWER IS TAKEN, NEVER GIVEN—SO TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED

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TAG WITH @silph

POSTED ON Apr 14, 2021 10:17:50 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]“That makes two of us.”

Fernando hides his pain well. Not just the physical but the mental ones that come from a crushing defeat. The fact that the orb escapes his possession just spurs him to finalize the acquisition of Devon Co. Sure, Devon had been cemented long ago, just a project churning down the pipelines, but to pull the final string sates his need for something more.

“Enough, for now.”

He takes a sip, something Lulu knows he avoids like the plague, wincing in the painful regret of not shooting his shot.

By now, everyone who’s going to make a showing is already here. Music plays. People talk while the more adventurous partake in something close to ballroom dancing. It’s not as impressive as in the movies but these are still regular, working people at the end of the day.

He shoots a glance to the dancefloor, eyebrows raised.

“Fancy a moment or did you want a second go around showing off that textbook brain of yours?”

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saoirse quinn

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october 27

circhester, galar

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5’8” height

every night i burn, dream the black crow dream

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TAG WITH @lulu

POSTED ON Apr 15, 2021 0:18:28 GMT

FERNANDO SILPH

Love was like fine dining.

One was always the sensible fork, and the other the spoon or the knife—interpret that how you will. Both would start on the very outskirts of a healthy course, but as they got closer together, versions of themselves would be discarded until some sweet center was eventually shared. That was how it ended—with a sick stomach and one last empty plate.

‘And when finished, knife and fork are to be placed together in the ‘twenty past four’ position… yes, Saoirse, like this. See the clock?’

Lulu had already well-past broken etiquette with all of her talking, but ballroom dancing could perhaps be her redemption—if she could remember. It had been, what? Seven, eight years? Not for lack of trying to teach Rinc on drunken nights. Never mind. She liked a challenge.

Something more than tequila glowed in her smile and she handed off the glass, freeing gloved fingers up to offer him.

“Sure.”

Oh. How do you eat with two knives? Not pretty.

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silph

SIR

twenty-nine

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POSTED ON Apr 17, 2021 22:16:38 GMT

[attr="class","spiral"]He takes her hand within his, leading her, selfish enough not to let her know ahead of time until it’s too late for her to back out. “Here’s a secret not even my most dastardly enemies know.” A tug pulls her in close, just like the instructional videos, before Fernando lets the lack of proximity fill out his whispers.

“I have a terrible lead foot.”

Fernando’s weaknesses are as plentiful as everyone else’s. He just does a better job of hiding them. Even this gets camouflaged by his personality, most believing he refuses to dance rather than can’t. But tonight is an exception, one he’s prepared for through countless hours of practice.

All to make sure he doesn’t end up trampling on her feet.

Adjusting to someone else’s tempo is never easy. Fernando sets his own path. It’s the crux of his battle theory, to set the tempo of battle and force his enemy to adjust or lose. When subjected to his own warpath, he relegates himself to failure.

For Lulu, as well as his own reputation, he staves to conquer his weakness.

A slow start makes things easier to adjust. It’s clear his focus is on his feet, an absent-minded stare glazed across his eyes as his concentration sticks to a particular rhythm. “You know, if you had refused, I probably would not have put two weeks of practice into this.”