If you are trespassing, you are not the first to do so, as evidenced by the room illuminated by your flashlight. A smart addition, that, for the electricity has shut off; you suspect the bill hasn't been paid.[break][break]

The flower shop is only recognizable for what it was by the way the pungent stench of decaying flowers fills the vicinity, pungent and horrible to breathe in whether one does so in the flower shop proper or in the greenhouse, or even the garden outside. Some hold enough of their shape and color that their past lives as ornamentation are still fleetingly familiar to those educated in plantlife, should Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki wish to examine them closer.[break][break]

Otherwise, this shop doubles as a home, as evidenced by the staircase to the upstairs bedroom, the little reading nook to the side of the staircase, and the bare kitchenette. Its cabinets, like the shop counter, seem to be removed of all secrets.[break][break]

You are not here to find a criminal, however. You are here to find a missing person.[break][break]

Or perhaps to sate your own personal curiosity about the life that was once lived, here.[break][break]

What will you investigate?

[attr="class","ooc"] Michael Navidson Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

“She didn’t disappear for no reason.” Navy’s voice is steel. He’s sure of himself. Someone stole this woman from her normal, everyday life. Change came for her. Change he wonders if he could have prevented, had he been more insistent on keeping her close. That family, the Chalons, might have been the ones to do her in – if she has been done in.[break][break]
Whatever the truth of this matter is, he’ll delve deep and arrive at the truth. He releases five Pokemon from their balls. Kai, the Lucario, is just here for muscle. He doesn’t delver deeper into the house. Folding his arms, he reaches out with his senses to remain alert for threats. Olivier, Navy’s Gardevoir, is here for something more esoteric. He floats through the home like a ghost, trying to sense the emotions of those that lived here.[break][break]
Hattori, ever the loyal shinobi, accompanies Tsubaki on her search. He’s grown protective of his Lord’s protégé. Klefki floats near Navy. Taking the key in his hands, the creature conjures a lock. Turning the key within, he places the area within a fairy lock. Best to take precautions like that, secure the scene.[break][break]
Last, but not least, among the cabal Navy has brought, is Voyager. The Arcanine is sniffing, making himself at home. He takes in the scent of decaying flowers and almost gags. Whining, he follows Navy to the reading nook.[break][break]
“Seems Ms. Fiorelli liked to read.” He observes, as if that’s unique. “Let’s see what we can find.” He leafs through the books, scanning them for their subject matter, or to see if anything is hidden within. Everyone has their secrets, even Kalosian women who seem to have the make and mien of a queen.

[break][break]

+ Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki Elisabeth Fiorelli[break]
Navy investigates the reading nook![break]
Arcanine sniffs around the house.[break]
Lucario stands guard.[break]
Gardevoir uses its powers as an empath to sense latent emotions in the area.[break]
Klefki uses fairy lock in the area.[break]
Greninja accompanies Tsubaki.

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

The Gardevoir can sense a RESENTMENT that reeks more than the decay of any flower in this place. It stretches over anything and everything, sticking to it like the stench of nicotine to clothing.[break][break]

In the book that Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki holds in her hands, she'd find a curious theme to the flowers discussed in its pages: they are inherently poisonous. Beautiful handwriting has left notations here and there, and when the pristine final pages are found, a receipt for something unexpected appears.[break][break]

A Liberty Burger receipt, to be precise. An Unovan food joint that has opened up in lower Slateport, or so its relentless advertising has informed you.[break][break]

This in itself would be remarkable enough for the prim florist, except the name attached to the credit card in the receipt is one that is decidedly not Elisabeth Fiorelli -- it is FERNANDO SILPH.[break][break]

As for Michael Navidson, his discovery in Elisabeth's taste in books would reveal a love of Kalosian poetry as much as botany, as well as books filled with puzzles and riddles. This isn't terribly exciting by itself, but as the books are perused, a niche book stands out for how lovingly it is placed among the many gathered here.[break][break]

It's an art book, filled with indulgent paintings of beautiful watercolours. The writing is in Kalosian, but a single name stands out as familiar for its surname alone: Georgiana Fiorelli. The artist's photo bears a striking resemblance to the florist's own, but her clothing denotes her as from an older generation.[break][break]

A golden ring bearing a rosette sits on the woman's right hand, delicately resting at her collar bone.[break][break]

Should Michael Navidson engage in a cursory background check on the woman, later, he'd find she was not only Elisabeth's mother, but rumors of money laundering on behalf of Rocket had been documented in Georgiana's past in Kalos.[break][break]

How curious.

What else will you investigate?

[attr="class","ooc"] Michael Navidson Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

“Olivier?” Navy calls his Gardevoir’s name. He’s looked ill ever since they arrived. Now, he looks ready to hurl. Pokemon, by and large, can’t talk. Olivier’s line is blessed with the power to sense emotions. If they so wish, they can impart that emotion onto another, give them a taste of what they feel.[break][break]
“It’s that bad?” Navy doesn’t know what he’s asking for.[break][break]
When Olivier presses the resentment onto Navy, he finally understands. It’s not just that bad. It’s worse. Feeling like he’s been punched, he presses back against a wall, head throbbing. Waving off his Gardevoir, Olivier stops the channel between them.[break][break]
“It feels like that everywhere?” Olivier nods. “…fuck.”[break][break]
He’s a merciful trainer. Seeing no reason to keep his brother’s Gardevoir in constant pain, Navy recalls Olivier. At least he’ll be able to rest, free of the resentment, in the confines of the ball.[break][break]
Tsubaki’s voice brings him back into focus.[break][break]
Navy gets back to his own meticulous note-taking as he listens. An old familiar name comes up. Navy nods along with a hmm.[break][break]
“Silph looks way better than he acts. …damn, this woman really was out of my League.” He chuckles. “Private detective can’t compete with Mr. Councilman.”[break][break]
There’s something there. Something he can follow up on. Navy very much doubts the councilman will meet with him again, at least not for a while. They both have their lives and a thousand assignments. Silph runs the world from atop a high tower. Navy tries to direct that world from his spot on the ground.[break][break]
“Don’t think she’s killed herself.” Navy says, more to reassure himself than to convince his ward. “Hey…take Hattori and look around the greenhouse, will ya? I’ll be lookin’ around upstairs in the bedroom.”[break][break]
Whistling, he calls his Lucario to his side. The two start walking up the stairs to investigate the bedroom.


[break][break]

+ Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]
Navy investigates the bedroom![break]
Lucario accompanies Navy.[break]
Having sensed the resentment of a legendary, Gardevoir nearly faints. Navy puts him back in his ball.[break]
Greninja accompanies Tsubaki, who Navy asks to investigate the greenhouse.[break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Here is what Michael Navidson would find upstairs:[break][break]

It's a small, quaint upstairs bedroom: tidy and meticulously presented. Well, aside from whatever disarray the past investigators have left behind. The serpentine Rocket mask that PENELOPE LIVY and paxton concordas absconded with is absent, but perhaps other clues remain here.[break][break]

An assortment of fine clothes and a dresser vanity of custom perfumes suggest insight into more than secure finances, somewhat surprising given the vocation of the woman whose home you're investigating. Preferences for florals, skirts, and dresses can be found in her closet. Should the perfumes be investigated, they would be found to be a custom blend: lily-of-the-valley and honeysuckle.[break][break]

On her nightstand several books of poetry sit, awaiting to be read. Across from the bed is a large bay window that affords a splendid view of the gardens. Or it would, if that view wasn't a barren field of ruin and rot, instead.[break][break]

Nothing suggests evidence of someone having left their home in a rush. There is no sign of hasty tossing of clothes into luggage. Instead, the place seems eerily abandoned: as if someone woke up one day, left home, and never thought about coming back.[break][break]

Which is odd in and of itself.

In the greenhouse, Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki would find the following, just as paxton concordas and PENELOPE LIVY did:[break][break]

The greenhouse at first seems to hold very little in terms of surprises. An unseasonable coolness hits you as you open the door, offering a reprieve from the summer weather outside. Here, the environment can cater to more exotic plants that cannot flourish in the present place and time.[break][break]

Even so, precious few bloom at all. Nearly all the flowers have wilted and withered on their blackened stems, leaving them a ruin of what once was. The smell is almost overwhelming.[break][break]

Only one set of flowers remains blooming in this bizarre circumstance: a row of crystablooms, carefully tended to as if by an expert hand. Close examination would show this small plot has been growing for some time, with notes to the side revealing they had been propagated from the rare flowers to ensure they never stopped blooming.[break][break]

In the notebook, various notations of the flowers can be found alongside those of Gracidea flowers as well. Every so often, a name appears that does not appear to belong in these recordings, assigning them to a particular flower: Gracideas for Martín del Mar and FERNANDO SILPH, and a Kalosian rose for GIDEON GRAVES. There is no reason given for this; it seems to be a personal note, rather than an official one.[break][break]

Other than that, there is not much else here to see.

[attr="class","ooc"] Michael Navidson Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

He can tell, not for the first time, that his assistant and he are not the first people to come looking. Someone else cared for her enough to come looking. The disarray he finds doesn’t seem to be the disarray of a struggle. Indeed, the longer he loiters here, the less he thinks that she left against her will.[break][break]
“Where in the world did you go?” He asks a woman he barely knows, one who isn’t there to give him an answer. “Why did you leave?” Outside the window is darkness. Darkness grows in the forest, and he knows it isn’t his place to know the answer. It isn’t his place to solve this mystery, nor to undo the corruption spreading in the world outside.[break][break]
He simply can’t abide a woman in peril. It’s a curse, one hanging around his neck like an albatross since he was a much younger man. It won him the loyalty of the assistant who now helps him, alone out back.[break][break]
Before he walks back downstairs to collect Tsubaki, he lingers on the books. Her taste in clothing is elegant. He wonders if her taste in literature is the same.


[break][break]

+ Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

With her knowledge of plants, Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki's insight would be correct: the premature rot of these plants seemed excessive, as if withered by the influence of some external force.[break][break]

The grudges of this place bury her Zorua in their stench. The bitterness of the resentments overwhelms in its vastness.[break][break]

This woman's departure is not an absence, but an exile.[break][break]

Upstairs, sifting through her things, Michael Navidson would find a vast array of books at his disposal. On her nightstand, a book of poetry is left half-open, a singular poem "The Garden of Proserpine" partially left visible behind a bookmark.[break][break]

[...] Pale, beyond porch and portal,[break]
Crowned with calm leaves, she stands[break]
Who gathers all things mortal[break]
With cold immortal hands;[break]
Her languid lips are sweeter[break]
Than love's who fears to greet her[break]
To men that mix and meet her[break]
From many times and lands.[break][break]

She waits for each and other,[break]
She waits for all men born;[break]
Forgets the earth her mother,[break]
The life of fruits and corn;[break]
And spring and seed and swallow[break]
Take wing for her and follow[break]
Where summer song rings hollow[break]
And flowers are put to scorn. [...]

[break][break]

Increasingly, it seems as if this place will give you no answers beyond a sense of building dread. More and more, it seems unlikely this woman will return here.[break][break]

It has the sense of someplace haunted.

[attr="class","ooc"] Michael Navidson Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

“Don’t think anything made her do anything.” He says with realization. His mind lingers on the poem. A good one, easy enough for him to understand. Many a poem makes his head hurt, terse verses with their meanings hidden between the lines.[break][break]
“Whatever else happened, think she left on her own.” This place, even in spring, seems cold and haunted. Outside, the forest looks rotten. Lingering here, he decides, is not a good idea. He was given custody of this young woman to guard her. Guarding her, he thinks, is to go back to civilization. They can go back to where light and reason rule. There, they’ll figure things out – or forget about it over some cheap fast food.[break][break]
“Come on, Baki. We’re done here. Let’s get back to Slateport.” He’ll sleep easier in an urban jungle.


[break][break]

+ Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki Elisabeth Fiorelli [break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]