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POSTED ON Jan 21, 2019 5:51:36 GMT

six days.

"..."

they were expected to tend to the farmer's land and the pokemon whom resided there for six days. and due to this particular piece of property producing a sizable quantity of wool and milk, they'd be expected to ensure that the ponyta, flaaffy, mareep, miltank and tauros that resided here were properly cared for in their master's absence.

'we were basically hired on as temporary farmhands.'

cait's leaned against the door frame of their temporary home, her expression less-than-pleased as she peered out at the large piece of property that the farmer had hurriedly left behind. the challenge presented here was something that she'd naturally adjust to - the woman no stranger to catering to the needs of livestock.

'and i don't mind getting dirty, either.'

but she couldn't help but be concerned for the mental and physical welfare of her celebrity counterpart.

"elias?"

the farmhouse that they were expected to occupy was rustic and simplistic in design, the farmhand so minimalist that he lacked even a proper television. that and he possessed a landline - which was practically unheard of nowadays.

"elias!" she hollered. "we need to start working. are you ready?"

she'd reenter the home as she said this, the screen door snapping shut behind her as she plopped down onto the livingroom's plastic-covered couch.

"gods, this furniture is definitely older than me."

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POSTED ON Jan 21, 2019 6:22:14 GMT

[attr="class","gabrielpost"]oh, he had had words. very, very colorful words with aaron when he'd been told the situation. and his agent had pleaded with him, tried to reason with him, got on his hands and knees in the middle of his office and started crying, until finally, finally elias gave in. but that didn't stop him from acting like a giant pissbaby.

as soon as he'd gotten dropped off the ranch, he'd taken one look at his surroundings, felt the heat on his back, and huffed a very loud, "no fucking thank you," to the surrounding flora and fauna.

that was twenty minutes before his partner arrived.

he'd been lounging on the farmer's bed at this point (after putting some plastic wrap down) and was sipping on some lemonade when she'd entered, and he'd promptly exclaimed that he wasn't ready.

but after he'd sent her away and tried to lose himself to the infinite abyss that is social media, he'd found, of course, that there was no data to be had at this particular location. and so frustrated, he'd thrown his phone onto the floor like a child and closed his eyes and tried to nap.

and he could have dozed off like that if his partner hadn't started hollering back at him again. he slowly gathers himself from the bed and stands, smooths out his skirt and traipses back into the living room, looking as dignified as he possibly can. his off-shoulder top slips further down his arm as he sits down, nose upturned at his surroundings.

"it baffles me how people can live like this. honestly, no wonder our hick wanted to leave. if he's smart, he won't come back." he shivers and crosses his legs, props his chin in his hands. he stares bemusedly at cait.

"now hear me out, dear. pokemon are pokemon, right? if i left ambrose out on his own, he'd be just fine. who's to say the ones here won't be? sure, they probably have the combined iq of their hick trainer--of which i'm certain is not very high--but they'll be fine."

he frowns. "and it's hot. and there aren't even any cameras so why does it matter?"

[newclass=.gabrielpost]font:10px calibri;[/newclass]
[newclass=.gabrielpost i]color:#D4AF37;[/newclass]
[newclass=.gabrielpost b]color:#D4AF37;font:bold 11px calibri;line-height:12px;text-transform:lowercase;[/newclass]

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POSTED ON Jan 21, 2019 7:35:37 GMT

cait quirked a brow at the young man's choice of words, not at all amused by them.

"farming is a noble profession," she defended. "and we wouldn't fair all too well as a society if it died out."

she stood from her previously seated position, revealing herself to be sporting a pair of denim trousers and a visually unremarkable brown blouse that had been tucked into them. leather boots covered her feet, the thick material offering her an ample amount of protection from any amount of filth that might smear against them.

"and it does matter," she continued. "what we do out here - i mean. now let's get going, starlight. we should already be out there - but we aren't. the pokemon need feeding and their bedding needs to be replaced. after that we'll get to milking."

cait had only very recently begun to refer to the male as 'starlight', finding that the nickname suited him well enough. despite his petulant attitude the officer very quickly discovered that she still enjoyed his company.

"i'd go into detail why your reasoning is all kinds of wrong," she said. "but i'd honestly rather focus on working than trying to explain why we're doing this in the first place."

she'd exit the house and begin making her way toward the nearby farm, the large doors of the building presently shut tight.

"before the farmer left he gave me a strict schedule to follow. we'll start by replacing the straw - can you head to the tool shed over there? we'll need two pitchforks for this bit."

cait shot him a smug look, her lips curling slightly to reveal her pearly white teeth as she grinned.

"you know what a pitchfork looks like, right?"

Elias Burner

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POSTED ON Jan 22, 2019 6:17:00 GMT

[attr="class","gabrielpost"]no, actually. it's what the medieval ages would have called a peasant profession. he doesn't mention that though (and probably for the better) because despite his loose lips when it comes to complaining, he doesn't want to complain to the point where she gives up on him entirely. it's all about calculation.

"starlight!" he lets out a laugh, but the cheery guffaw is cut short when she starts listing out everything they'll be doing for the next few hours. and not only hours, but days. oh, tomorrow she'll have to pry him from the bed if it's going to be as awful as he imagines it's going to be (which is considerably unlikely).

"why doesn't he just get one of those automatic feeders that persians have?" if that's what it'll take so he doesn't have to do the work--a gigantic horse feeder so that he doesn't have to gather it every day like some sort of neanderthal--then he will.

if only he had cell service.

"yes, i know what a pitchfork is," he says indignantly and huffs. of course, he doesn't mention that it's only because he'd gone out in a sexy devil's costume for hallow's eve last year.

he turns on his heel and makes his way for the shed, only to stop in horror as one of his designer boots squelches in wet dung. a shrill cry falls past his lips and he whimpers, yanks the ruined boot out of the ground and limps towards the shed.

(as though he can't replace the pair the moment he leaves this hellscape.)

he manages to find the pitchforks without much of a hassle, which is far more worrisome to him than anything else. what does one man need with so many pitchforks?

it takes all of his strength not to childishly throw her pitchfork at her feet. he hands it to her and then hefts his own above his shoulder, nose wrinkling at the new perfume he's now wearing. "instruct me on this whole hay business."

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POSTED ON Jan 23, 2019 6:02:20 GMT

she decided against dignifying his hilariously preposterous question with an answer.

"we'll be replacing the straw in the stalls. let's hope you have enough arm strength to last, starlight."

her tone was tinged in amusement as she stepped further into the recently opened doora of the barn. the scent that resided within its confines could be considered unpleasant to the delicate nose, but cait didn't appear all-too bothered by it. she instead focused on releasing the miltank and ponyta from their respective areas, the pokemon happily taking their leave and stepping out to graze or idle away.

"it isn't too bad in here," cait remarked.

the young woman coached starlight through the process, observing his movements closely as she instructed him to shovel the filthy straw and toss it into a pile at the barn's center. she'd join him, of course, and would only allow the man and herself the occasional break. the schedule was a strict one, after all, and there was very little time set aside for rest.

'this is really tiring,' she thought, sucking in a breath as she strained her muscles. 'i'm a bit outta shape. aren't i?'

by the time they were finished cait was covered in a thin layer of sweat and wielding her hand as an impromptu fan as she happily set aside the pitchfork. they had only just bagged the filthy straw for disposal, the bulging pieces of plastic messily stacked in a pile.

'at least it doesn't smell so bad in here, anymore.'

"good job, starlight," she praised. "that wasn't too bad, was it? sorry about your boots - i stepped in a few piles myself."

she was certain that she'd have to hand scrub her footwear whenever she was finished for the day; and she wasn't at all looking forward to ridding the leathery of dried dung.

"we're milking next," she said. "i'll grab the buckets. you won't need your pitchfork for this. so you can go ahead and put it down. i'll pick it up a little later."

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POSTED ON Jan 25, 2019 17:06:35 GMT

[attr="class","gabrielpost"]she does more than instruct him. perhaps, in another life, he could have made a great addition to the league. with someone like officer alfric mentoring him, he would have learned a lot.

instead, this is the elias orion we're talking about. despite her persistent orders, he refuses to break a sweat. as soon as he feels the heat gathering on his flushed cheeks, he takes a break, leaning against his pitchfork and watching her with eyes narrowed into slits. his demeanor is vaguely catlike, and he may have looked beautiful with the pink tingue to his cheeks, the sweat matting into his hair.

but there are softer, more subtle undertones that darken his appearance. it's clear that his efforts, although small, are still hindered by something.

his shirt slips down his arm again, exposing his collarbone and shoulder. and it's clear that they're thin. too thin. there's a frailty to his movements that he is usually careful to hide with extravagant poses and a sharp tongue. but he's out of his element here--tired, miserable, and stressed.

so he's uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole ordeal, stressed only about what he must possibly look like throughout all of this. he doesn't care much that his hands begin to shake, or that dark speckles line his peripherals. cait's praise has him smiling, despite himself.

"milking," he repeats, and while earlier he would have made a face, he's relieved to get off of his feet. he drops his pitchfork where he stands and follows dutifully after cait, swallowing past his dry throat. "can't we stop for just a minute and get something to drink?"

he waves a hand. "you can fetch the lemonade i made this morning."

cait alfric

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POSTED ON Jan 25, 2019 23:31:31 GMT

despite starlight's behavior and unwillingness to fully cooperate, cait remained unmoved - her patience seemingly infinite as her gaze settled upon elias.

"fine," she said, simply. "let's both take a break."

she'd indicate that they should return to the farmhouse as a pair with a gesture. the young man's behavior and the slight uncertainty present with each step he took hinted toward his state of being.

"hm," she hummed, her lips slightly pursed.

cait didn't doubt for a moment that elias was ill-equipped to handle work of this caliber, and that pushing him too far would likely result in collapse.

'i honestly don't want him fainting on me.'

cait's pacing was slow and steady as she approached the home, the girl glancing over her shoulder on occasion to check up on the male as she did so.

"let me get some food into you," she proposed.

it proved difficult not to baby starlight some, but she'd much rather ensure that he be allowed enough rest to make it through the remainder of the day.

"c'mon."

she'd gently encourage him to enter their temporary home before ambling her way to the kitchen. the pitcher of lemonade was located moments later and pulled from the nicely-sized refrigerator, its contents pleasantly cool.

"huh. this looks really good," she said, surprise coloring her tone.

cait located two glass cups before pouring a generous amount of sweet liquid into each.

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POSTED ON Jan 26, 2019 3:35:28 GMT

[attr="class","gabrielpost"]she goes along with his complaints a lot easier than he assumed she would. all day, she's been making sure he's kept moving (absolutely untrue, considering he's stubborn enough not to give more than 10% effort at a time). he blinks owlishly as she starts to walk back to the farmhouse.

back to air conditioning. even if it's a shitty singular air conditioner and not central, even if he has to shove his face right into it to feel something, at least they'll be out of this oppressive heat. isn't it supposed to technically still be winter?

he sighs and follows her inside, unease and awkwardness lacing through him at the thought of sharing a meal with her. barely an acquaintance. but he's wormed himself out of similar situations before (not that he enjoys doing so). he only hopes that it doesn't lead to a sour mood later on.

the lemonade he accepts with grace, as he knows the exact amount of sugars and calories the glassful contains. numbers eat away at the back of his head and he tries his best to shove the invasive thoughts away. it's gotten worse since ambrosia stopped talking to him.

he shakes his head. "dear, i ate just before we started our work only a couple of hours ago. aaron has me on a very strict type of keto diet, considering my photo shoot i have after this is all over."

he rests at the farmer's rickety dining room table, swipes one of his droll napkins and blots the sweat from his forehead.

"you're good at this," he continues after another small sip. he raises a brow. "have you done this often?"

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POSTED ON Jan 26, 2019 6:14:53 GMT

"i'm just use to hard work in general," she supplied. "that and my family tend to grow their own food."

'i guess it just comes naturally. this kind of life doesn't seem bad. not at all.'

memories of their vast garden and the plethora of vegetation that grew there came back in a vivid rush of memory. her mother had shared valuable knowledge of how to effectively grow and sustain healthy crops that cait had retained over the years - though she very rarely was granted the opportunity to put it to use.

"and why not let yourself live a little?"

the officer eyed him and his petite frame.

"i honestly think you'd look a little bit better with more meat on your bones," she critiqued. "you honestly look like you're on the cusp of playing the part of a real-life barbie doll, starlight."

she'd take a tentative sip of the lemonade before releasing a little noise that indicated pleasure.

"this is good. really good," she commented, her eyebrows raising high upon her forehead. "every time my mama bothered with making lemonade it was way too sweet. i could barely drink it without getting a little sick."

a comfortable silence befell the pair as cait found her way to the dining table and claimed a seat for herself. it wasn't entirely long before she polished off half of the cup and set it aside in favor of continuing onward with their conversation.

"if you're not going to eat - can you at least lay down for a bit? we can start back up in roughly an hour. that'll give you plenty of time to take a quick nap or at least rest up."

she gestured toward the general direction of their separate rooms, offering him the permission needed to retire.

"i'll wake you up before i head out. alright?"

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POSTED ON Jan 29, 2019 1:07:20 GMT

[attr="class","gabrielpost"]he makes a face. "that's the problem. everyone thinks lemonade needs to be half sugar, half water, hint of lemon. i like my lemon drink the way arceus intended it to be--tart, sour, and invigorating." he takes another sip, feels the rush of tart coolness flow through him, driving away the oppressive warmth he'd worked up earlier.

what he wants to do is get in the shower and wash the grime and the smell of miltank dung off of himself. if he didn't already forever lack an appetite, he'd have lost it the moment he'd started to sit in his own filth. the smell is atrocious, and it only seems to bring out the rest of the farm smell that clings to this out-of-touch spot in the middle of nowhere.

no, he's not going to dirty his bed until he's had a chance to shower and swath himself in fresh clothes. so, when cait gives him the go ahead, he pushes himself away from the table and traipses back over to the living room so he can stretch out across the couch. he steps out of his boots first, of course, and promptly throws them outside the front door.

"yes, yes," he says with a wave of his hand. "don't worry. i'll be up in thirty." he's very much like a cat in that he needs naps every so often throughout the day to keep his energy up. so his body shuts down naturally, and quickly, despite his slight annoyance that cait's chiding makes him think she might believe him to be a child.

he drifts off with a look of terse aggravation, but drifts off nonetheless.