Hazel remembers her first Halloween in the shop as if it were yesterday. She and nana had dressed up like a pair of traditional cartoon witches - black hats (though Hazel's had been decorated with glittery moons and stars), black cloaks, brooms, the whole nine yards. Nana's umbreon had even stood in as their obligatory "black cat". 

All night, trick-or-treaters had come by in droves. Kids, adults, and pokemon alike, looking for sweet treats and free charms. Of course, the charms that they passed out on Halloween didn't do much, they were more for show than anything, though some people did notice that fewer ghosts tried to prank them as they moved about town collecting their sweet bounty. 

As soon as it had been dark enough to turn on their lantern, Hazel had settled herself in the big bay window out front to get a better look at all of the costumes, afraid that some people might be too scared to stop at a psychic's shop on all hallow's eve. They hadn't been. If anything, the shop had proved even more popular than many of the regular residences, save the large house a few streets down being billed as "a proper haunted house". It wasn't really haunted, nana had assured her, but Hazel still wanted to go and see it. "Maybe next year," nana had told her, but she hadn't gotten to go the following year either. There were always far too many people coming and going for that. 

These days, there are still just as many trick-or-treaters and customers on Halloween as ever, and Hazel finds that, with the help of her pokemon, she can have just as much fun as she did back when she tended the store with nana, even if it means she won't get to check out the haunted house this year either. 'Oh well, there's always next year. Maybe I can train Carmen to help customers while I'm gone for a little while.' No, that would probably be a disaster. She isn't exactly sure what kind of disaster, but definitely a disaster.

The abra in question is somewhere in the back room sulking in the fleece snorlax onesie that Hazel had wrestled her into earlier in the evening. 

In the window, Edgar is waiting eagerly for trick-or-treaters, his usual blueish-purple flame turned a bright green for the festivities thanks to a powder that a friend had traded Hazel for a protection charm a few weeks back.

Hazel drags a small two-person table over to the window, covering it with a slightly singed purple cloth embroidered with silver moons and stars. She gives Edgar a look when the litwick hops over to the edge of the window display, eyeing the table. "Don't you dare, it's for the readings." she warns him, mostly trusting him to restrain himself while heads into the back room to get the baskets - one for candy, one for berries, and one for charms. This year's charms have strange hand-drawn sigils scrawled on them that almost look like unknowns, done in a deep red ink. Each of them hangs from a matching red string with a tiny golden bell attached at its base, putting them somewhere between ominous and cute. 

"Finn, come on, those are for trick-or-treaters," Hazel scolds as she shoes her wayward eevee away from the berry basket, the little glutton. He trills back at her and hops off of her desk, earning himself several 'can't even be mad' points by rubbing up against Hazel's legs on his way to the front room. 

Shaking her head, Hazel grabs the first two baskets, her expression brightening considerably when her duskull Ambrose drifts over to help with the third, though she does kinda wonder where he got the little plastic scythe that he's using to carry the basket. It is plastic, right? Ambrose had a nasty habit of nicking things from people who weren't paying enough attention to their things and, while Hazel has been trying to break him of it, she hasn't made nearly as much headway as she'd like. 'I really hope it wasn't expensive.'

A knock has Hazel heading back out to the front to set the baskets on the counter before hurrying over to the door. 'Trick-or-treaters!' She pulls the door open, greeting Isaac and his pokemon with a bright smile.

"Come on in! We've got free tea, charms, and tarot readings tonight!" 

Zephyrus is a welcome sight as far as Edgar is concerned, and the litwick is only too happy to show off his altered flame as he presses himself closer to the window to get a better look at the dratini as it peers in. Edgar may not be able to puff up with pride the way some of Hazel's team can, but he certainly knows how to dance, and nothing in the world can stop him from hopping back and forth excitedly, his now green flame leaping and wavering as he realizes that they're about to come inside and play! At least he hopes they are. They are, right?

Edgar halts his bouncing long enough to check to make sure that Hazel is following her invitation up by actually stepping aside to let them in, and ooooooh she is! she is! she is! 

The litwick hops to the edge of the display sill, watching with mounting excitement as Isaac and his team file into the shop. 

Finn's ears perk up at all the commotion. Guests mean more treats. And maybe berries too! The eevee is still sitting closer to the basket of berries than Hazel is comfortable with given his penchant for wanton gluttony, to say nothing of the suspicious stain at the corner of his mouth. 

'Oh Finn, what am I going to do with you?'

Hazel ushers their guests inside, a little spring in her step. The shop always feels more like home when people stop by to visit. Nana used to say that it was a space that was meant to be occupied. That it liked guests and, as far as Hazel could tell, that seemed to be more or less true. Everything seemed just a little bit more magical when a customer entered the shop, or maybe she just felt a little bit more magical. 

"Don't worry, very few things in in here are actually breakable. If they were, Finn would have found a way to break them all already, and you wouldn't believe the number of things Edgar has accidentally set on fire," Hazel assures Isaac when he enters, having caught the warning he gave to his cadre of babies. The eevee, nose pressing perilously close to the berry basket once more, has the decency to pull back and look mildly offended. The litwick, on the other hand, looks proud - the little pyro. 

Hazel decides that she likes Isaac the moment he declares that his companions are his handfuls. He's got a good energy about him, and he clearly cares about his pokemon. That and it's an imminently relatable sentiment.

"I'm Hazel, Petalburg's resident witch." It still feels wrong to say it like that. The words in-training are on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be added, but she supposes she isn't in-training anymore, she's the real deal. Has been for a while now, even if she sometimes feels like an imposter. But that's nothing a smile can't fix, and hers is back in full force as she continues. "Don't worry, I'm not the sort of witch who goes around hexing people, although we do sell hexes." She says it with such enthusiasm that it's hard to tell if she's joking.

"I mostly do readings and help people when they've got ghost problems. You know how stubborn ghosts can be, especially when they've been somewhere a while and think of a place as home." she says, as if that's a perfectly reasonable thing to say to a stranger. But he isn't a stranger. Not anymore. They've exchanged names, and she's got a pot of tea on, and it's like they're half way to being friends already! 

A whistle from the corner signals that the tea is ready. And just in time too! Hazel makes a beeline for the merrily steaming kettle.

"How do you feel about jasmine? We have other flavors too, but it's one of my favorites." Nana loves jasmine too, which is at least half the reason that Hazel finds herself keeping a sizeable stockpile of it in the shop at all times. That way, she always has some on hand to bring along on visits, even if she has had less time to visit lately. 

There's something idyllic about the scene unfolding in the front room of the little shop. Something undeniably right that leaves Hazel beaming as Isaac's team nicks treats from one another's bags, the victim in swift pursuit of the sticky-fingered thieves. Finn's watching them too. A little too interested, if his posture is anything to judge by.

The wayward eevee has abandoned the berry basket to crouch quietly beside the counter, gaze fixed upon the commotion - rump in the air, tail twitching back and forth in short, erratic bursts. Any moment now, he's going to join the fray and send someone tumbling over. But who to choose?

Finn's eyes dart back and forth between the Echo and Overdrive as they dance away from Willow, stolen apples still in hand. He wants to play too! The eevee gives a short, excited trill as he makes a beeline for Isaac's unsuspecting ralts - Drop. Spring. Pounce!

Hazel winces as they collide. "Finn, play nice!" she warns, though there's no bite to her words. Nobody's hurt, after all, just surprised, and that seems harmless enough. Besides, it's Halloween and tricks are just as welcome as treats in this shop!

At least Edgar hasn't jumped anyone yet, or set anything on fire, for that matter. Excited as he is, the litwick's behavior is surprisingly subdued as he cautiously hops toward the skittish cyndaquil peeking out from behind Isaac's leg. He wants a friend too, but some friends take more time to make than others, a lesson that Hazel has tried time and again to teach the more exuberant members of her team. Maybe the lesson has finally taken? 

Hazel makes a show of giving Isaac a once over when he jokes about being hexed, circling him and pretending to look for something, her eyes narrowed in faux concentration. When she reaches the front of him she shakes her head with mock seriousness. "Nope, no hexes," she says, as if that's something that a person can see. It isn't, but she's wagering that Isaac doesn't know that. Or maybe he does. Hazel never knows what the people who enter her shop believe about the world of the invisible, and that's half the fun! "Must be garden variety bad luck," she adds, seriousness evaporating in an instant, replaced by a teasing grin. "I've got a charm for that."

From the doorway, Ambrose watches as Hazel goes to fetch the kettle from the counter and pours tea into two ceramic cups decorated with watercolor ghastlys that slowly fade as the cup begins to soak up the warmth. They're halfway gone by the time Hazel hands the mug to Isaac and gestures to the little wooden table by the window with its faintly singed cloth covering. "I usually do readings at the table. Choose whichever chair you'd like." 

The two chairs are, ostensibly, the same, at a glance. Each simple, made of some sort of stained wood, and topped with a purple cushion that matches the cloth draped over the table, sans glittering silver moons and stars. It doesn't seem like there's much of a choice to make. Unless there's a catch. It is All Hallow's Eve, after all. 

Isaac Merlo

☉

As long as nothing breaks (and they'd be hard-pressed to break much of anything in the front room) Hazel is content to let the baby cyclone do its worst until they run out of energy. Who knows, maybe she'll get really lucky and Finn will be tired enough to actually get some sleep tonight, instead of chasing shadows around her bedroom until the wee hours of the morning.

She misses the days when she'd been able to run around with him for most of her waking hours and he would spend his nights curled against her chest or tucked into a soft ball just above her head (even if it did mean that she lost half her pillow to him). Now, the demands of the shop keep her tied down, more often than not, and the eevee is practically nocturnal, napping throughout the day and knocking over piles of books during the night as he scampers after things that only he seems to be able to see. Not ghosts. Hazel would know if there were other ghosts in the shop. But definitely something weird that she's yet to catch a glimpse of for herself. That, or he's got a really good imagination. 

Speaking of pokemon who spend a surprising amount of asleep, Hazel is surprised to see Patch make his way out from the back room. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been napping between two piles of books.

The oddish shuffles in with a dazed expression, eyes blinking away the last remnants of sleep as he takes in the chaos unfolding in the middle of the room.

"Hi Patch!" Hazel calls to the oddish, waving him over. It takes him a solid minute of blinking and shaking his leaves before he stumbles in the direction of the table and hops up onto Hazel's lap while she's preparing a deck of tarot cards, whose backs are emblazoned with fluffy white clouds, for Isaac's reading.

If one were to look closely, they might be able to make out the shape of a semi-transparent castform in its sun form partially hidden behind one of the smaller clouds. It's not a deck that she uses often, but Isaac's joke about having bad luck had her considering it for his reading almost immediately. It's always been a tricky one. Not unlucky, exactly, just complicated. 

"Readings are easy. All you have to do is cut the deck somewhere when I'm done shuffling it, and think of a question while you do it. You don't even have to tell me what it is!" It's always way more fun to see the looks on people's face when the cards provide insight on something that Hazel herself knows nothing about. Like a magic trick, only spookier. Perfect for a first time reading on All Hallow's Eve! 

Isaac Merlo

☉

"Yep, I'm really just a glorified interpreter of the will of the cards. No need to tell me anything." No, that isn't quite right.

Now that she thinks about it, Hazel's never really tried to explain it before. Nana had always done the explaining, leaving Hazel to do the reading.

Hazel finds herself grasping for the right words and coming up short. Oh well, she's trying her best!

"It's sort of like reading a story told by the universe! The cards show what was, or is, or will be. Sometimes they give advice, and sometimes they like to warn people about things. Give them a chance to choose a different path, you know?" Nothing is set in stone, the cards simply reveal the most likely outcome based on someone's current path. What might be if things remain as they are. If nothing changes. 

There are a few different spreads she could do, but Hazel has resolved to do a simple three spread for everyone that visits tonight, just in case someone else wanders in and she has to do several readings back to back. 

Hazel laughs when Isaac has to restrain his Totodile from slicing through the deck with his claws. Yeah, okay, that may have been a poor choice of words with so many little "helpers" running about. "Oh, do you want to help?" she asks the enthusiastic little dinosaur pokemon. "Do you think you could hand out candy and berries for me if anyone knocks?" Her own pokemon have taught her that the best way to distract them from wanton acts of destruction is to give them something to do. A job. A way that they can help rather than just the ways that they shouldn't. 

Ambrose, still hovering by the baskets with his little plastic scythe like a silent sentinel seems to take offense at having his job offered to someone else. With a huff, the duskull turns and vanishes through the wall. 'Oh Ambrose.' "He'll be fine," she assures Isaac and his crew. "He's still getting used to the idea of sharing." And people. She's surprised he didn't split the second Isaac and his team wandered in. 

"Anyway, without further ado. Your fate!" the little witch announces with entirely too much cheer. She grins at him as she turns over the first card.

Seven goblets in various states of disrepair litter the card, many toppled over, with clear streams of liquid running from them. A totodile is shown walking away on the right-hand side, tossing another goblet behind it. The Eight of Cups. "There was someone or something in your life that didn't measure up to what you wanted or maybe what you deserved. Something disappointing. So you walked away from that disappointment hoping to find something better." 

Hazel takes a breath and turns over the next card. She isn't grinning anymore. The second card shows a lopunny suspended upside down over the edge of a cliff, its legs entrapped by vines. Though its position is precarious, its eyes are closed, expression calm, and one of its hands is reaching toward the drop. Accepting the fall. The Hanged Man. "You're going to have to give something up soon, if you haven't already." 

"The Hanged Man usually alludes to a sacrifice of some kind," she explains, then hurries to add, "but it's not all bad. It's also the card of new beginnings." Good ones, or bad ones? That remains to be seen. Hazel flips the final card. 'Ouch.' The Hanged Man had definitely meant sacrifice she thinks as she looks down at the Five of Cups now sitting beside it, and not the easy to bounce back from kind either. 

A roselia bends forward over a table laden with five simple wooden cups. Its tears fall into the cups, filling them until they run over. The Five of Cups - loss, grief, self-pity. For several too-long moments, Hazel doesn't say a word. Instead, she just stares at the cards and runs her hands through patch's leaves, rubbing soothing little circles on the top of his head.

Uh-oh, it looks like Patch isn't quite all the way awake after all. The oddish is struggling to keep his eyes open now that he's found himself a nice warm lap to sit on and someone to pet his head.

"I'm sorry. I probably should have picked a different deck." But it isn't the deck. This was the right one. The one that felt the most like Isaac in the moment, but---

"We can try another one if you want. Oh, and we should probably drink our tea before it gets cold!"

The final card remains unread.

Isaac Merlo

☉

The sad little rasp goes unheeded. Wherever Ambrose has sulked off to, the Duskull doesn't seem inclined to return. Hazel suspects he'll probably be watching from the doorway to the back room in a few minutes, trying to figure out how to deal with all of the strangers. Honestly, she's surprised that he stuck around for as long as he did. He usually flees as soon as the bell chimes to announce a customer. This has to be a new record!

'Good job, Ambrose, you're getting there!' Hazel thinks fondly, but she can only stay distracted for so long with Isaac scrutinizing the cards laid out between them. A dire prediction, and one that has Hazel picking at her fingernails under the table with worry.

Funny, she thought she'd gotten over that particular habit. She'd even bought fun nail polish - bright neons and shimmery sparkles - in the hopes of breaking it. It was much harder to destroy art, after all, and the colors were so cheerful! Yet here she is, picking away at them. 

There's something sad about knowing that little flecks of color are falling away with each nervous scrape. She should stop, she should, but she's not quite sure what to say, especially when Isaac tries to comfort her. 

"It's...well, yeah..." But usually the universe is a bit less cruel, she doesn't say.

What would Nana say if she were sitting here? She'd probably turn it all around somehow. Remind Isaac that it was just a potential path. One of many. Maybe help to set him on a different one. 

"It's not all bad," she begins as Isaac takes a few sips of his tea. "Nothing in a reading is set in stone. It's just a representation of your current path. Of what has happened or might happen." She wants to believe that, whatever is in store of him, Isaac can steer clear of it somehow. 

She glances down at the final card, at the weeping Roselia and her five filling cups as she picks up her own cup, letting the warmth of it soak into her palms. Better to give her hands something else to do. Something productive.

She takes a sip. Offers him a shaky smile. "Just try not take things for granted, okay? You know," she falters, "just in case."