she doesn't mean to make him feel like it's not enough. like he has to stretch himself so thin. always. and she doesn't doubt that. not anymore. she doesn't know when exactly she stopped doubting it - sometime after roman unveiling what a monster he really is and him still not walking away? probably. 

how have you been? not great. doubting her self-worth? losing sleep? seems like no amount of help at the shop is enough to manage eleanor's deteriorating health or roman's new therapy appointments or managing this larger than life project with Greyson Connors she really wasn't ready for. 

but there's stress on bo's shoulders and in his eyes and she can't put any of that on him. 

"i'm good," she says. "working a lot but good." she laughs softly, looks away. 

to the matter at hand then. "so i...am nervous. usually i just let elisabet do all the work, but that's really just dealing with vermin on the property. i have a feeling battling's a bit more intense than protecting flowers from pachirisu."

boruta maher

☉

ollie's too enthused by the task at hand to see the look on samuel's face, but willow doesn't miss it. there's a softness there, a crinkling around his eyes that give away the smile he's trying to hide. she puffs out her cheeks at him and gives him a look as ollie drags her inside. 

it is by no means the working menagerie of a fully-fledged business - no, that will come much later, by willow's own hands. right now, there's only leila and a few other flowering pokemon and plants. samuel takes in wounded grass-types from time to time, curing ailments for neighbors or friends, but he won't take so much as a nickel. 

he's got too much going on, what with raising a three-year old and managing a shop and a bit of a strenuous marriage. (they love each other, but it's work.) 

leila blinks one brown eye open. rocks crumble from her brow and there's a creaking sound as more dirt dislodges. 'terrrrr,' she hums. the greens on her back sway at her slight movements and willow rolls her eyes. 

"she's never as happy to see me," she complains. and willow's usually the one that waters and fertilizes her. 

she grabs some clippers from her dad's workbench and holds them out to ollie. 

ollie morales

☉

samuel atkins is a hardened man. he never really fit the metropolitan lifestyle rustboro had to offer. no, he's much happier out here, with dirt under his nails and a tan on the back of his neck. he straightens when the pair approach, wiping some sweat with the back of his hand, and chuckles at ollie's enthusiasm. 

"how many times you gonna tell me that, son?" he shakes his head and gestures to the greenhouse.

"leila's been stingy about letting the herbs go. maybe you two could coax her." the torterra in question is a beast. she rests in a garden plot at the back end of the greenhouse. most of her days are spent here, as she's content to laze away most of her days with the sunlight on the herb garden cultivated on her back. 

that and she's samuel's pride and joy. part of the reason why her herbs are so delicious. 

"c'mon, ollie. grab some gloves. you know leila's sweet on you. i'll get the twine for the bundle," willow says sweetly.

ollie morales

☉

she scrunches up her nose. it's a running joke between them, but that sure as heck doesn't make it fun to hear. she already feels a lot older than her peers courtesy of her little tyke that's crashed upstairs. she peers up at him. there's a gratefulness in her smile, the easy breezy kind, 'cause not once has ollie at all judged her for roman. and more than that, he's seen her as herself. as willow. not a nineteen year-old stuck with a three-year old mistake. 

(which he's not. he wasn't. that's just sometimes what they think. she can see it in their eyes.)

"nah. he had a busy day yesterday. took him berry picking. his hands are still stained blue. it's kinda cute."

her father is bent over a bed of flowers. willow untangles herself from ollie out of reflex, wanting to avoid his questioning gaze (not that anything's there, but he's been weird about guys coming around). 

"mom needs more carnations, dad. and miss komkowski's still waiting on her herb bundles."

ollie morales

☉

nineteen years old, juggling an unbaked pie in one hand and a toddler in the other. she blows the hair from her face with a puff of her lips and manages to finagle the pie into the oven, all with roman squirming like a rambunctious puppy in her arm. when the oven door is safely closed, she puts him on the ground. her grumpy swadloon totters after him while roman squeals with delight. 

"sweetheart, i told you to wait two minutes and i'd help," her mother calls from downstairs. they leave the staircase open with a baby gate attached so willow can trounce down the stairs in a flurry if the flower shop gets to be a bit too crowded for her mother to handle it alone. 

her father's out back, pruning the garden more than likely. or in his workshop, forgetting that it's nigh the busiest part of the day. 

"come here, you," she threatens, shoulders hunching as she stomps over to a giggling roman.

"you got da cake, mommy?"

"mhm. it's cooking. gonna be real tasty when it comes out."

he yawns real wide. willow boops him on the nose, scoops him up to her hip, and after about twenty minutes of coaxing, manages to finally get him to curl up in his bed for an afternoon nap. 

free to her own devices, she takes the pie out, sets it to cool, and then takes the stairs down two at a time. a wide grin spreads over her face, timing perfect. 

she raises a hand in mock salute and then laughs. "c'mon, ollie. we gotta go restock some of these for mom." she kisses her mother on the cheek, ducks under the counter, and loops her arm around ollie's to drag him out back. 

ollie morales

☉

lus is some ways away under the watchful eye of camellia, horns digging into the side of a tree. he manages to drill two neat holes in the side; sap dribbles down his pronged horn. camellia flutters her wings and the two share a feast together. willow tries to imagine the pair of them on the field, listening to her barking orders.

she feels she'll be as good at this as she is the call of duty game she and bo got roman. (which she's not. at all. in any sense. she's blown herself up with her own grenade too many times to count.)

foxglove stirs immediately, leaves fluffing out at the sound of bo's thwackey making its obnoxious entrance. her lips curl back, exposing her teeth, and the leaf frill at her chest shivers, crackling softly in warning. she raises a paw, but willow catches it and flattens her ears with her other hand. 

"oh, hush, you. he's just playing." she chuckles when bo steals his sticks away and reaches out to scratch the mossy fur of his cheek. she has a lot of patience when it comes to the ape line, what with d.k. and roman constantly making as much noise as humanly and pokemanly as possible. 

"hi," she says, standing. she doesn't release foxglove, out of fear that the leafeon is still tempted to take a bite out of their companion. 

"thanks for making time. how are you?" tired. like i thought. she bites her lip. 

boruta maher

☉

willow backs up her rapidash and then slips off its side. she leaves greyson to deal with the bulk of the problem and goes to knock rapidly on the door to grace's estate. no answer. she curses under her breath and grabs her pokeballs, tossing them all out at once. 

elisabet goes rigid as soon as she sees the state of the berry patch. willow isn't the only one with ties to the place. 

"foxglove, help greyson, please," she says and the leafeon lopes over to lend his pokemon a helping hand. 

"grace!" she calls, hands cupped around her mouth. there's a cry further into the throng of vined plants; a hand waves over the greenery, fingers stretching to make themselves visible. a couple of vespiquen circle, irritated as they intermittently get blasted by a water gun from grace's squirtle. 

she can't get up. and between her and her elderly neighbor is a swarm of angry pokemon. 

the fairy wind flattens a path near them and willow doesn't think. she takes off running down it, lus and elisabet at her heels. 

Greyson Connors

☉

the rapidash tosses its head, sensing her apprehension. she's not exactly keen on fire-types, especially so close to her flowers. but grace is more important than her discomforts. so she settles the steed with a hush, shaking fingers reaching for his snout. 

he settles, though probably only because the greyson waits for them. willow gives a whistle and several of her pokemon run out from behind the house. "lus, foxglove, and - " she starts. elisabet pokes her head out the door or the flower shop and then darts back inside, re-emerging with a few pokeballs awkwardly in her arms. 

willow recalls those she'd named and orders the rest to keep an eye on the farm. and asks the bees to keep a low profile until they return. 

she mounts with ease. there's a history here, especially with the way she urges the stallion quickly from a canter to a gallop. bareback is something she hasn't ridden in years, but determination sits just as well on her grimace. 

the scene they come upon is...an awful one. 

grace's berry patch is in shambles. combee and vespiquen are uprooting the plants and flitting about in a frenzy. her stomach drops and she looks at greyson, helpless and at a loss. 

Greyson Connors

☉

for once, she's actually not busy with her hands in dirt or plants or some type of manure. no, instead she's sitting on her front porch, fingers strumming a guitar that's still slightly out of tune. she mumbles something to herself just as greyson walks up, turning pegs to try and remedy the problem. 

but he waves as he approaches and it makes her look up. a smile breaks out on her face, but it quickly disappears when she realizes something's not right. 

she looks down at the paper and pales, abandoning the guitar to scramble around the side of the garden shop/house. 

their vespiquen and combee are still busy dancing amid the flowers. she counts them and then sighs. all accounted for. 

"no," she says and then looks a little closer at the paper. she frowns. "this is near grace's place. can we - would you come with me to check on her?"

Greyson Connors

☉

they are going to love it. and sitting here leisurely, tasting the fruits of their labor (and their bees' labor, of course), she can't help the shininess to her eyes. especially when seeing greyson smile the way he is. because damn, if everything hasn't been so hard lately. to have this now - well, it's more than she could ask for. 

"mm," she muses, thinking on his words. it's a strange distinction to make, needing to keep people alive. but hoenn isn't without its need for people who can do just that. 

she really has no scope of what league members like greyson and boruta maher go through on the daily. 

she simpers. "i'm sure if i had time to write a thesis, i could probably get a doctorate in grass-type studies." after years of tending them, tilling them, fostering them, she ought to know a thing or two about them. but she thinks about what greyson said and adds, "but if they can help around the farm, odds are i get along with them."

a few of the grazing deer near them wander over. one of them, a baby stantler, legs stronger now than when bo had first brought her, but still rickety nonetheless, ambles up to them. she dips her head and willow can see the little nubs budding on her forehead. 

"i like gentle creatures," she says softly and scritches tulip under the chin. 

Greyson Connors

☉

he's been busy. he's been busy and that's okay. he makes time whenever he can, but there's exhaustion written all over his face. she hasn't told him yet that things never worked out with lance. she hasn't told him about her recent success with her beekeeping venture. she hasn't told him a lot, and it pains her, but he's just so tired. 

to ask him to spend more time with her wouldn't be right.

still, she feels nervous anticipation as she approaches their meeting place. ophelia is watching the shop. addie is watching her mother and roman. she has a free day. 

and she's going to spend it making a fool of herself in front of bo. 

the few pokemon she brought are her more battle-ready. the tauros hadn't taken too kindly to her asking them to return to their pokeballs...but that's probably for the best. maybe she'll need bo to help her wrangle them. 

foxglove curls sleepily in her lap. 

boruta maher

☉

lip balm, maybe. mead? out of her wheelhouse for sure. there's a lot of science that goes into brewing and gods know when she'll have enough time to herself to make that happen. and the last thing she wants to do is sell out. although maybe she could ask around in downtown fallarbor...see if some of the locals would be into the idea. she knows damn well a connection for cider, at least. 

"my dad woulda liked you," she says with a grin. some of the honey drips off her cracker and onto the grass. 

"here here," she crows, clinking crackers and popping the whole piece in her mouth at once. it's heavenly. rich and malty with a heavy hint towards lavender and clovers - which makes sense, given the abundance of them by the hives. 

her eyes widen and she swallows quickly so she can say, "dang, that's delicious. girls! good work out there!" the combee hum at her praise and continue flitting about the property. 

she dabs a little bit of the honey on her finger and holds it out for greyson's comfey. 

"fairy-types really are so curious." she preps another cracker for herself. "speaking of a blossoming partnership, let me hear more about greyson connors. do you specialize in fairy? or bug?"

Greyson Connors

☉

"i think we can leave the training to elisabet," she says wryly. bo's already promised to help train her battle prowess. planting flowers and picking weeds? they're unparalleled in skill. her pokemon on the whole are obedient, but they're nigh useless in battle. elisabet's really the only one who can hold her own and that's no thanks to willow. 

even the tauros, as strong as they are, are unruly beasts that would absolutely never listen to her. 

the concern on his face makes her uncomfortable. she recognizes it, knows it's coming from a place of self-deprecation. 

"yes, i'm fine," she says a little hurriedly. "i just, er, forgot i'd promised my time to someone else. it's nothing that can't be fixed." she waves a hand. her phone vibrates in her pocket again. she thinks to ignore it, but it could be ophelia or adelaide.

so she checks it and mortified, says, "wait, he can tell when i've seen his text?" and that i typed? and didn't respond? 

sorry. double-booked. talk later. will make it up to you. 

she sends the text and looks up and laughs sheepishly. "i'm...so bad at this."

boruta maher

☉