Nanette was beginning to realize that Hoenn was ridiculously warm. She supposed a dormant volcano should have tipped her off, and if not that, then the desert. But it dawned on her again as she bounced on her rapidash’s back, quietly boiling underneath an unforgiving sun while Mila seemed thoroughly pleased. How can anyone live in this region? Nanette thought. But people did, and they thrived. Beyond volcanoes and outside the domain of deserts, Nanette rather liked Hoenn. She supposed the desert had its own beauty, too. The sand was golden underneath the sun, the sky impossibly blue and clear. She adjusted the brim of her cap, squinting into the distance.

It was meant to be a normal patrol – make sure nothing was cataclysmic in terms of danger, and to make sure any snake Pokémon were gently deterred from venturing into the city. Though, apparently, there were reports of some people skinning Pokémon for profit.

She could see the vague shape of snakes in the distance, their scales shimmering in the light. And while Nanette wasn’t an expert when it came to the more serpentine of Pokémon, they seemed to be on the smaller side, so she could only assume they were young.

A light press of her heel urged Mila forward at an easy trot. Nanette could at least ensure that the snakes were urged somewhere safe, and that no bird decided to come and pluck them from their home for a snack.

@vallen | mission

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There was a brief moment of pause from Nanette. Processing, really, because did this man really just fling a hatchling Pokémon like day-old chowder? Was it the heat taking its toll on her? But she blinked, and the man did not shimmer senselessly in the horizon. Not a mirage, but an asshole. A real one. How lucky for her. She could feel Mila becoming restless, digging her hooves into the sand forcefully.

“Hello,” Nanette greeted, though her tone was wary. No one could accuse her of ever forgetting her niceties. “In a manner of speaking. And if we’re here to see them, you shouldn’t be throwing them like garbage.”

Another nudge of her heel, and her steed pressed on. Once they were close enough, Nanette dismounted in one smooth motion. It was ridiculously hot here, and between her growing anger and the unforgiving sun, Nanette wasn’t going to risk any form of heat stroke. She unzipped her flak jacket impatiently, tossing it over Mila’s saddle. It helped, a bit. There would be no doubt about sunburns later despite the SPF she had applied earlier, but this would hopefully be quick. Nanette rolled her shoulders to ease some of the ache, the tension. Her expression was stern.

“Sir, may I ask what’s in your rucksack? Contraband usually doesn’t hiss.”

(it's canon now LMFAOOO)

@vallen | mission

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Nanette did not consider herself a violent woman in the least. But it was, perhaps, a mixture of the heat and her righteous anger that made her want to punch him in the face. And that might not have been effective, but years of dancing had given her legs some strength. So she also wanted to kick him where the sun didn’t shine. Somewhere vital, somewhere painful. Her expression was taut with simmering (get it? Because of the heat? Anyway…) rage.

His question was not worthy of a response. Instead, Nanette narrowed her eyes at the barest peek of the rucksack on his shoulder.

He spoke of dissection and skinning so easily, so it wasn’t hard to guess what was writhing around in there. Nanette pursed her lips, one hand on her hip. Mila was nickering behind her, pawing at the sand impatiently. That was one advantage, at least. Her rapidash was thriving in the heat. It wouldn’t be hard to give chase if it came to that. Still…this man seemed far too at ease.

“Sir,” she said, her voice flat. “May I see the contents of your bag, please?”

And though incandescent with anger, Nanette was nothing if not polite.

@vallen | mission

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