Roses and Rot [S]

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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evan

izzy

he/him

october 1st

castelia city, unova

gay

mechanic

grunt

grumpy

do not perceive me

50 height

co było, nie wróci

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Izydor Baranowski

Roses and Rot [S]

POSTED ON Mar 11, 2022 22:26:35 GMT

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"Yeah..." He taps his finger against the cup. "...Not that I'm not used to that kind of thing. Comes with the job, and all that"[break][break]

What was it about Elisabeth that made conversation flow so freely? As loose as the liquid had poured from her teacup, words found their way out of his lips. He'd only ever met her before briefly, and now only for an hour at most. But she felt comfortable in a way that wasn't common for him; it put him at ease. Was that why he found it so simple to discuss things he'd never discussed before - like his past?[break][break]

"I grew up in Castelia city, then moved to Slateport, so... I never really had a choice about being into cities. I kind of hate them, though - there's always someone doing something somewhere, and you blend in all the time" Which had it's uses, admittedly, when one worked within team Rocket. But it would be nice to live somewhere that he felt he actually existed.[break][break]

He watches her produce the little seed from it's delicate bag. New beginnings... he raises a brow and looks a little closer. "I don't know it. Is it pretty?"[break][break]

Izzy knew far too well about the league's inability to help - it had done nothing for him in Unova when he had to go a day without eating once a week so as to not blow the family budget. And it did nothing now, where he was forced to work under the most terrifying people he'd ever met just to stop his debt from getting bigger. And if he reached out, asked for help? They'd only stick him in jail somewhere, take away his pokémon, ruin his life once again. Everything was fucked.[break][break]

He didn't, though, have too much experience with reporters, though miss Fiorelli before him certainly seemed to have her opinions on them. "I imagine they just make everything up to sell shit" He replies. "Which isn't fair on anyone..."[break][break]

He doesn't know her situation or her past, nor would he like to - knowing history of his fellow grunts only made things harder when someone inevitably got killed by some overexuberant league asshole during a mission or something. But she chooses her words in a way that reminds him of himself, when discussing something that hurts more than he wans to let on.[break][break]

"Actions? Pft. Non-actions, more like"[break][break]

He finishes the last drops of tea and places the cup in front of him. "...This has been really nice" And, just barely, he offers her an underused smile, like rusty cogs turning for the first time. "I should probably get back, but... yeah. Really nice. If you ever need me to hang out or anything, y'know, again...?"

[attr="class","izrigidtag"]Elisabeth Fiorelli

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Scarlet

Lisa Bortiforte

She/Her

August 30

Camphrier Town, Kalos

Bi/Heteroromantic

Bioterrorist

Underboss

Unattached

Black Widow

5'9" / 175.26 cm height

Bury me in the roses and rot; I'll come back thorned.

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4,757 posts

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Elisabeth Fiorelli

Roses and Rot [S]

POSTED ON Mar 11, 2022 23:30:39 GMT

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A ROSE BY[break]
ANY NAME

would remain as sweet and thorned

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Izydor Baranowski

+Outfit/Hairstyle
Daffodil (♀) HEALER: Petal Blizzard, Petal Dance, Sweet Scent, Magical Leaf

[attr="class","bgtk-lyric2"]within Fiorelli Floristry

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"I never really had a choice about being into cities."[break][break]

Elisabeth listened in focused silence, her blue eyes intent as they observed the way Izydor averted his own while he spoke about his past. About, in essence, being trapped.[break][break]

Was this why it was so easy to speak with him, Elisabeth wondered? It was a strange kinship, of finding that you were a puppet caught on someone else's strings. Dancing when they asked you to dance. Putting your body in the line of fire, simply because it didn't belong to you anymore. Knowing any freedoms you had were a privilege, not a right.[break][break]

For all her present autonomy, Elisabeth was yet new to it and all that it entailed: a hatchling stretching new wings, uncertain of how far they might let her fly, and for how long.[break][break]

To Izzy, Rocket wasn't a place that allowed him to roam and fly free. It was another way of clipping his wings.[break][break]

"The Gracidea? I believe it to be beautiful, yes." The concept of gratitude shamed her, now, with this quiet realisation at hand. "But some of the most beautiful blooms take time to grow, and to flower." Hers had taken over ten years.[break][break]

How long would it take for Izzy to find his wings, then?[break][break]

When Izzy smiled at her, his facial muscles moving like slow, rusty cogs whirring into motion after a long dormancy, Elisabeth's own mind was similarly turning over old thoughts that had been long left to gather dust and rot.[break][break]

Futile wishes for a kinder, gentler world: a sanctuary.[break][break]

"You are always welcome here, Izzy." Elisabeth arose from her seat and walked to the door, her hand shaking slightly as she turned the key to release it. Why was she doing this again? Letting herself care. She had come to Hoenn a blank slate, bereft of all connections and anything that might weaken her resolve.[break][break]

When Elisabeth turned back to face him, all traces of doubt or self-reproach had vanished from her expression, replaced instead by a beaming smile. "If you ever have need of anything, please tell me."[break][break]

And stay safe. This last thought she kept to herself, a weakness she buried underneath the thorns and briars of her heart.[break][break]

He was just another boy, with another sad story. Surely this pang of maternal affection would prove little consequence to her in the end.[break][break]

Surely.

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even in the ruins, flowers blossom and flourish

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