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Walpurgisnacht.
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When Katherine first asked her photographer for a bar recommendation, she didn't think much of the snicker that came with the bar's name. She imagined it had to do with his nerves or that he merely remembered a joke. She most certainly did not expect... this.
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A bar decorated with paintings and drawings of a god is one thing, but hers? That's just weird. Creepy, almost. Nevertheless, she resists the urge to step outside to search for a different bar and instead settles on staying just for one drink. Maybe two.
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Once she settles in a seat near the bar, and her eyes lock with the bartender, she gives her order. There's no hesitation, nor does she search for a menu with her eyes, for she holds no intent to experiment today, "Just a dirty martini, please. I'll take it stirred." The 'please' is not because Katherine suddenly found her manners but because she personally knows how easy it is for one to spit in a rude customer's drink.
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It's only then, while she waits, that she notices Elisabeth Fiorelli and her GRAVEDIGGER drink. Until now, she'd mostly forgotten she wasn't alone and that the two of them were sitting so close to each other that withholding a simple greeting might make things awkward.
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"..Hey. I can just take my drink and go elsewhere if you're waiting on someone."
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How kind of her. She gives the florist an out.

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

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"No."
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It comes out easily and dryly, as though the question is half-anticipated, and Katherine doesn't need to spare another glance at Elisabeth before her mind is settled. Such certainty is a luxury for some but nothing short of customary for the Malevolent.
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What else would you expect from a narcissist with a god complex?
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"But you also don't look like someone who has to spend their new year's eve by herself, so I figured it'd be better to make sure," there's an underlying question between her words, one that she doesn't need to spell out for the florist. Then again, it could easily be reversed and directed at her next.
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"Alright."
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The offered out is refused; for Katherine, that alone is enough to make her stay. At least for now, until a better company presents itself or she grows tired of the eerie Giratina decorations. The bitter sting of her martini is savoured with closed eyes before she lifts the olive skewer, freeing one of the three with her teeth.
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"This place looks weird, don't you think?"

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

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"Very," Katherine concludes in agreement. "I don't think any god would appreciate all of this," hers didn't. Peering through its vessel's eyes, Giratina wordlessly mocked the furnishing before turning its attention elsewhere, biding its time. Immortal gods often resorted to such reclusive methods, but then again, they had every right to do so.
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Patience is a simple virtue to master when one is unrestrained by the shackles of time.
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"Besides, if you ask me," Elisabeth definitely hasn't, but Katherine was never the sort of person who refrained from giving her unsolicited opinion, "People do these things for themselves more than they do it for who and what they claim to worship. Especially when it's this... What was it, garish?"
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And for that, the Malevolent was all too MERRY to damn whoever owned this bar.

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

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"It sounds like you've given it some thought before, hrm?"
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It's hard not to, considering Hoenn and all. Gods, both known and unknown, practically revealed themselves to someone new every other month. Although Katherine understood that it was natural for people's curiosity to get the better of them, she had yet to accept it.
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It's pedestrian, if not desperate. Two things she could never appreciate.
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"But yes, you're right. It's very foolish. People often fail to understand and realize that many of these avatars are puppets—pawns of gods. They'll have everyone believe that everything they do is of their own volition, that they're in control..." Her head cants to one side and then to the other. By the sound of it, Katherine could easily name a few of these avatars herself. But then again, she could name plenty more who'd accept the same position, if not worse.
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"Mm. It varies from case to case, but yes, usually... It's wiser to remain unnoticed. I've seen it erode people, and I've seen it take root as a curse." The elite four lazily frees another olive from the cocktail skewer with her teeth before another sip follows.
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"I think it's worst when someone confuses being deserving to being worthy. These don't always go hand in hand."

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

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Katherine's eyes remain lidded whilst Elisabeth theorizes that the divine gaze of some might not always be a compliment. She weighs the comment in a thoughtful hum before lifting the glass to her lips, breathing in the juniper aroma of her martini, and then taking another sip.
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"I agree," words escape past alcohol-wet lips, and a chuckle follows, "i'd be pretty embarrassed to be noticed at all by some of these gods."
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It's said with palpable venom. True loathing.
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Her eyes open at Elisabeth's question, darting to her as lips curve into a devilish smile, "Simple. Deserving is usually a matter of self-worth. I did this and that, so I deserve it. I saw this thing first, I fought it and lived, I found what it wanted, I helped it! So, naturally, I deserve it. It's subjective."
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It is, as Katherine claims, simple.
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"But you can't forge... you know. To be worthy is to be chosen," by the stars, by wretched Arceus, by whoever weaves the threads of fate. "It transcends subjective, man-made expectations. You either are, or you aren't. You're cut out of the right stuff—or you're not. All the longing and the desperation in the world can't change that."
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And judging by this bar's décor, Hoenn was already filled to the brim with desperation.

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

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"I think that's a good way of putting it," Katherine spares a compliment, which was so highly unlike her. If Elisabeth knew her any better, she'd know to bask in it and relish every moment of praise.
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"How does it feel? Hrm..."
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Come to think of it, the Malevolent didn't remember a time where she didn't feel worthy and deserving. She was, for better and for worse, the most self-assured person she knew. It was natural to her. It was easy. She was never the type to wallow in sadness, grief or misfortune - but if she were - then the worthiness bestowed upon her would've been perceived much differently. She is not as grateful as many would think she should be.
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A part of her wished that it could understand how it felt to others. Truthfully, she looked forward to the day she might truly relate to someone in that area.
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"I think it just feels right, meant to be, and every other reference to fate itself. Do you believe in it? Destiny, I mean."

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

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"Interesting."
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There's a glint of a rekindled appreciation in Katherine's eyes. The more the florist chose to share with her, the more impressed the Malevolent was. It's expressed only in her eyes- a fleeting emotion that could easily be misinterpreted or go unnoticed.
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It's as far as her praise tends to go, so all in all, it couldn't have gone better.
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"I thought the same once," she admits, allowing Elisabeth a deeper dive into her thoughts, "that it's ours to decide. That nothing and no one can stop a person from shaping their own destiny," her heart beats, and then she continues, "it's true in many ways, yes, but it's not absolute. It's not always the case. Some things are predetermined, no matter how comforting it is to think otherwise."
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Katherine knew that with every fibre of her being.
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"People don't like to hear this," she eventually declares, "and I think Hoennians take offence to this more than anyone else. Everyone's convinced that everything that happened to our region has been of our own making. That we owe our survival, power and influence solely to ourselves, but that's just bullshit."
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She could only hope that hearing this wouldn't bruise Elisabeth Fiorelli's ego as much as it bruised others'.

[attr="class","bottom"]Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]