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POSTED ON Feb 21, 2019 6:21:02 GMT

persephone amavi and FERNANDO SILPH like this

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THAT LOVE IS LIKE A GHOST. OH, AND THE MOONLIGHT BABY SHOWS YOU WHAT'S REAL. THERE AIN'T A LANGUAGE FOR THE THINGS THAT I FEEL, AND IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, THAN NO ONE EVER WILL. I DON'T FEEL IT TILL IT HURTS. YES, I KNOW THAT LOVE IS LIKE A GHOST.

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They told her to dress in her blues; a police uniform that clutched close to her frame, fitted like a suit and decorated with small, glimmering medals that reminded her of gym badges.[break][break]

Bailey Cooper stood with her back straight and her chin raised, shoulder to shoulder with her fellow Officers, as the medal ceremony began. After the encounter with Regirock, after the invasion of Slateport, the once-hopeless candidate found herself receiving a promotion to Sergeant. Another climb in the ranks, but this time, she would be the only one receiving it. There would be no partner standing next to her, receiving the same praise, to follow her up the ladder.[break][break]

It burned in the back of her throat, making her wonder if this promotion had only been given just to spare the League from having to find a replacement for the partner that had been lost.[break][break]

This marked the end of her leave of absence. As someone stood in front of her, clipping the newest medal to the front of her chest, Bailey Cooper gritted her jaw tightly—a month dedicated to mourning, as if they had thought she would have sat back and done nothing as the days rolled by.[break][break]

She was not in mourning—not anymore.[break][break]

They held the ceremony within the Lilycove Museum, atop a hastily elected platform, before a sea of white cloth tables that would host a dinner for everyone associated with the League. The officer let her eyes glaze over as she glimpsed a sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces; a sea of people that had thinned since the invasion of Slateport.[break][break]

And Bailey knew she would be seated at a table where one seat would be empty—a seat that was supposed to be for him, but now only occupied by ghosts and what-ifs that Bailey Cooper desperately tried to avoid. Her table was to the left; white paper signs dictation who would sit where. As the only Sergeant, she knew that the other cards were blank. It was an empty table, all to herself.[break][break]

How miserable.[break][break]

They stepped down from the platform in a strict line, listening to the claps of people in the crowd. Cadets had been made into Officers. Bailey Cooper couldn't give less of a shit. Instead of following the flow, instead of breaking off towards her table, she made a beeline.[break][break]

There was an open bar. It beckoned to her, beckoning to soothe the burning hole in her chest that made her grit her teeth with continued frustration.[break][break]

"Bourbon. Rocks." She felt like spoiling herself.

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POSTED ON Feb 21, 2019 11:50:26 GMT

Bailey Cooper, kim cole-essam, and 1 more like this

grotesque.

what lies before him is another sleight of hand, a ceremony that is undeserved. those in attendance are promoted not by merit but out of necessity. the gaps of slateport have left a gaping hole and the council has been unanimously hedged toward filling the void. naturally, fernando opposes the thought but refrains from expressing his opinion on the matter. it's a touchy subject and one that's too close to home for a foreigner to weigh in on.

the table for the hoenn council is vacant - a placeholder held out of respect. none of the council has the audacity to take their seat among each other, creating a faux sense of exclusivity and superiority. this is a time for them to mingle with the very people who serve them, a time to fraternize within the brotherhood they hold accountable to.

fernando will have none of it.

his charisma is tarnished by his reputation and status - he's no kim cole-essam .

with little care for the events he's shunned from joining, fernando delves into the only solace he can find - alcohol. ironic that he comes across bailey cooper. the scene plays out a little differently but the scenario is the same as the first time they met. he stands next to her at the bar, joining in after her order.

"dos equis. dressed."

an open bar is no excuse to indulge. he still has an appearance to keep. beer will be his go-to until it erodes at his inhibitions. only then can he head for the bunker - the safe haven that is hard liquor.

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POSTED ON Feb 22, 2019 4:02:13 GMT

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Bailey Cooper was wasting her time, staring at the grain of the wood that ran through the countertop; a dark spiral that she scratched with her nail, stripping the varnish as her finger dug into its groove. It was pointless. It was destructive. The newly instated Sergeant only stopped when the barkeep glanced in her direction as he started to prepare her drink.[break][break]

A bottle of liquor was pulled down from the high shelf—an amber glass with ample liquor that flowed from its neck, spilling across one, globe-like ice ball that crackled the moment the bourbon made contact. The half glass was not filled to her liking—there could have been more. The bourbon wasn't poured to the edge, just to remind her that her drinking habits were starting to become worrisome.[break][break]

The young woman always struggled with moderation.[break][break]

She nursed the drink in her hand, taking slow sips to let it greet her palate. It was a familiar burn. Someone would usually start to bullshit, talking about all of the nuances that they could taste—all Bailey could detect was bourbon. Just fucking bourbon. No light caressing of vanilla. No brambly spices. None of the bullshit that they printed on the bottle to sell the product.[break][break]

It was smooth. That was all that mattered.[break][break]

She heard his footsteps. The museum tile could make even the softest of footfall click with every step. Her eyes never strayed from her glass, never bothering to turn to see who was approaching. It could have been a newly promoted Officer getting a drink to celebrate the occasion—like what she should have been doing.[break][break]

His voice proved her wrong. Bailey raised her gaze up from the rim of her glass, focusing on the colorful arrangement of bottles and Fernando Silph's distorted reflection.[break][break]

“Fernando,” was her only greeting, unintentionally mimicking what he had done at the Winter's Ball. “Surprised you're not standing out front.” It was a neutral statement—she had said those words before they could process, evident by the distant look in her eye.[break][break]

Another sip. How much longer was she going to have to stay here?

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POSTED ON Feb 22, 2019 8:08:27 GMT

fetching and dressing beer is the easier task. a bottle is taken from the mini-cooler underneath the counter and the bartender rolls the rim of the bottle again a small salt pool that sits near the standard wells. a snap of a spare bottle opener pries the cap off and makes way for the lime wedge that nestled in the mouth. the bottles left at the edge of the counter and fernando is eager to swipe it, eager to taste the odd sense of tang that comes from the fruit.

"sergeant cooper."

a single index finger presses down until the lime is strangled into the narrow neck of the bottle. it plunges with a soft plop causing the contents to froth as it bubbles up. fernando gives the salted rim a quick lick before throwing the bottle back, taking an uncouth swig. unfitting for a councilman but he cares little for the minor pretenses between him and his minions - no, subordinates.

"not my scene. i don't fit in."

another sip, small this time, more contained. the night is still young and there's no need to over indulge.

"this is to be your celebration after all."

his voice is plain and aloof, lacking the usual decisive intensity that floats among the league's rumors.

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POSTED ON Feb 22, 2019 9:15:36 GMT

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His words drew a fraction of her focus. He didn't fit in? He was a council member--how the hell did he not fit in? She does not comment, choosing to swirl her glass and try to dip back into her solitude. She had humored conversation. She could just come up with some bullshit response and he would be on his way, like how all of their interactions had gone.[break][break]

Except one comment drew her focus, refusing to let Bailey Cooper sit in silence. Her celebration?[break][break]

“Is it?” Bailey could not separate the dryness from her voice. [break][break]

After hours of waiting for this event to end, the Sergeant was at the end of her rope—hours of standing on that stupid platform as the League went down the list of names, reading them off as if this were a High School graduation, had worn down what little patience she possessed. “I couldn't tell,” and her hand gestured to the empty bar stools and to the empty table where she was supposed to be seated.[break][break]

There was no one. She was alone, without a single person that cared—it was a thought that continued to strike beneath the ribs.[break][break]

Her next sip was too deep, too quick, to fully appreciate the taste of the bourbon as it greeted her throat. It polished the glass, leaving it empty and useless... and there was a hard click as she brought it down to the table. “I don't want to be here,” and she propped an elbow atop the table, just so she could fold her hand beneath her chin. “Don't even know why I've stuck around—free food, I guess? They had us practicing for this all day. I haven't eaten.”[break][break]

And knowing her luck, the catering would be shit.[break][break]

On an empty stomach, the liquor was eager to fizzle its way into her bloodstream; the sergeant felt the familiar tinge and took it as a warning... except she had been so eager to polish her glass, she had probably dipped too far off the deep end.[break][break]

It wouldn't be the first time she got drunk at an event like this. [break][break]

“The faster I get out of here, the better,” and the empty glass was slid to the barkeep's waiting hand.

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POSTED ON Feb 25, 2019 8:12:21 GMT

Bailey Cooper likes this

"oh."

another sip, this time with an accompanying lick of salt along the neck's side. it adds an astute sourness to the taste that makes him want it all the more. how ironic.

fernando turns to follow the direction of her hand, raising an eyebrow at the scene or the lack thereof.

"i guess that makes two of us."

he points toward his own table and it's void of everything but decorations. the other councilmen are out of sight and up to their own agendas. the administration may change but some things don't.

"drinking on an empty stomach doesn't bode well for you, sergeant."

she's not wrong about the catering but it's free. the events still young and there's plenty to go around. still beats cafeteria food.

"i'll keep you company if you want to grab a quick bite. it's been a while since we've talked."

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POSTED ON Feb 27, 2019 7:20:33 GMT

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Nothing boded well for her.[break][break]

Bailey Cooper could feel the burn of alcohol as it rested in her bowels—churning magma that reminded her of the thermal springs of her home, where the waters were touched by a volcanic fever that never seemed to relent. She slid from the bar stool, wondering if she would be consumed by that same heat.[break][break]

Fernando's offer had been perplexing... but also tempting.[break][break]

The Sergeant felt her skepticism grace her visage—when was the last time they conversed? Had it been anything of interest? In her memory, their conversations had always been bone-dry. No substance or pleasantries, unless she considered her display with the Delibird inside the Pokemon Center.[break][break]

“Only if we ditch this shitshow,” but she accepted the offer, none the less. Her hands were crudely stuffed into the pockets of her formal uniform, shoulder slacked back as she finally, finally unwound herself after an entire day of theatrics. Her newly pinned medals felt worthless on her chest.[break][break]

Bailey Cooper does not bother to wait for the Councilman as she sought the closest exit.

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POSTED ON Feb 28, 2019 3:46:42 GMT

a simple enough request but one that fernando has to double back on. one glance is all it takes to make up his mind. freya morningstar and kim cole-essam settle along nicely, each one surrounded with their appropriate crowd of promoted officers. gilbert valeria is no exception but his mingling is with those already established. his presence is unneeded so he denies them something no one will miss.

"of course."

fernando pounds away at the rest of his beer. the sudden influx of the cold wash is unbecoming of him but no one's paying attention. it'll put him no where near bailey but that's fine. he decides to keep himself sharp until they're somewhere less publicized. he leaves the bottle at the counter and follows her out at his own pace, taking a final look back as it erodes behind him.

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POSTED ON Feb 28, 2019 17:48:36 GMT

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She never looked back.[break][break]

Bailey Cooper felt the evening greet her as she blasted open the double doors—both of her hands jutting forward to slam them apart. Even if winter was starting to come to its end, the Sergeant could still feel its chill in the air as she made her way down the marble staircase, down to the empty streets of Lilycove.[break][break]

The sun had just set.[break][break]

At this hour, the city should have felt alive. There should have been pedestrians wandering through the moonlit city, taking in the sights and the sounds. In the back of her mind, the Sergeant knew that this was a byproduct of Rocket hysteria. People did not want to wander from their homes when daylight passed. It was safer to hide themselves away, like that would keep them safe.[break][break]

“I can't drive,” she said as the parking lot came into view. “You got a ride?”

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POSTED ON Mar 1, 2019 9:15:39 GMT

Bailey Cooper and dominic sinclair like this

a brisk pace sounds off his exit as the heels of his oxfords click against polished marble. coming down the steps in such a jostling manner causes his blazer to billow ever so slightly, enough for the cool night air to seep in with an insidious intent. but that's fine. the cold never bothered him anyway. it's fitting, the encroaching dusk painting the skyline with the same scene he sees after a normal day at league headquarters.

usually, this marks his start of pub crawling. today's an exception yet something feel like he won't diverge too much off his usual routine.

"yeah."

instead of fishing his pockets for a key, fernando raises his wrist up to level with his chin. "tesla on." the smart watch adorn on his wrist flashes, a sign it recognizes the command. as if to answer, one of the cars in the parking lot goes off with a loud, audible beep boop. a sleek, black matte sedan with tinted windows comes to life as the engine starts on its own. fernando makes his way toward it, the hidden door handles sliding out in anticipation of being needed.

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POSTED ON Mar 4, 2019 0:21:42 GMT

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Did he just start his car by talking to his... watch?[break][break]

Bailey Cooper glanced from the man's watch to the rumbling of his car—it was a display of wealth that boggled her mind. Lavaridge was a humble town that was composed of people that worked for their living. The country town was not privy to the spoils that came with excessive wealth.[break][break]

She approached the car with a hint of trepidation. “Is this... one of those self driving cars?” The handles deployed, making her hand hover before she found the courage to snag it.[break][break]

If they got in a car crash because the robot... thing... fucked up, then Bailey was prepared to deal with those consequences as she took her seat.[break][break]

Call her old fashioned, but she'd rather see a person handling the wheel.

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POSTED ON Mar 5, 2019 5:23:19 GMT

"sort of."

fernando doesn't share her misgivings for technology. the tesla is a staple of his life so naturally he doesn't bat an eye, clambering in as the dashboard comes alive. the central console shows a general map view of their area and porygon appears on screen, circumventing all design rules as it sprawls across different elements. it seems invasive - mostly because it is.

safety first. fernando buckles his seat belt and runs his finger against the console's touch screen. he navigates it much like any other tablet, avoiding the few notifications that blip up top while he continues to browse for somewhere to eat.

"did you have somewhere in mind?"

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POSTED ON Mar 5, 2019 8:43:38 GMT

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Wait, a pokemon was driving the car?[break][break]

“Does that thing even have a license,” and Bailey Cooper latched her hand to the danger handle as she settled into the passenger seat—her seat belt pulled just a little too tight after it was latched. If the cute Porygon was supposed to ease her doubts, it only amplified them. Would she trust her pokemon behind the wheel of a car? Hell the fuck no.[break][break]

“No, really. Does it?” Her eyes would snap from the dashboard to the “driver,” who was just... sitting there. No hands on the wheel.[break][break]

It did not look right.[break][break]

“Uh. Something close by. You pick. I, uh, don't really care,” and the Sergeant leaned herself against the door, blaming her unease on the alcohol that continued to ease into her system. “No frufru bullshit, deal?”

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POSTED ON Mar 6, 2019 3:34:52 GMT

he's not oblivious. her insistence on what he had interpreted as a joke at first reiterates her concern, as if her actions didn't. his eyes narrow in on her, tilting his head with an investigative curiosity. "you're not scared, are you, sergeant cooper?" just musing over it is enough to force him to stifle a chuckle. it feels weird having to put his hands on the steering wheel but it beats what he perceives as the alternative.

her answer is fair enough and he shifts it into reverse, backing out with relative ease.

"there's a pub i go to after work. food's pretty solid."

it's the same one he visits with Isra Nightingale , the very same one that Stormy Silph refused to follow him into.

"map to rascal's."

the porygon spins in place, chirping back with a beep boop before the map populates the main console. eta says its about nine minutes away and fernando takes off, abiding by the speed limit and the other rules of the road.

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POSTED ON Mar 6, 2019 5:36:31 GMT

shiv likes this

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...Wasn't she banned from Rascal's?[break][break]

Bailey kept that tidbit of information to herself as Fernando charted their course. His amusement had not been lost on her. Scared? Of a pokemon driving a car? Who wouldn't be? “Oh, fuck off with that,” and she waved off his comment, refusing to admit her trepidation. She'd die before she let anyone have that satisfaction. “I'm juuuuust fine,” and her hand was only removed from the danger handle when he placed both hands on the wheel.[break][break]

He drove the speed limit. It was slow as fuck. When the porygon said nine minutes, it actually meant nine minutes.[break][break]

Her head slacked, lightly pressed against the window. A street light went yellow. He slowed down and caught the red light, like a good driver. Bailey could only internally scream as the backseat driver threatened to come to life. Bourbon made her impatience all the worse. [break][break]

“No rush, right?” A hint of a slur hung to her voice as she pulled out a tin of mints from her pocket—a bite as her jaws chewed through a chalky altoid to remove the taste of liquor from her mouth.[break][break]

She broke speed limits—she was a cop. What was she supposed to do? Arrest herself?[break][break]

At least his car smelled nice. It had that fresh, new car smell. A smell that she never enjoyed, since she opted for her motorcycle. At one point, the League would have offered her a police cruiser, but budgets were getting tight.

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