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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette’s cheeks redden. His grin is lopsided and awkward, reminiscent of a Yamper with a toy in its mouth.

“Yeeaah.” His voice is sheepish. Biscotti thinks back to the day Josh Devlin cleaned Jangle’s clock. How the gym leader pushed obedience over teamwork. How he was meant to control a fire cat when he couldn’t manage his own tongue beyond him. “I get that a lot.”

The cat looked at Scotti for a moment. A large paw traced her own jawline as if assessing similarities. Then, she wrinkled her nose. She seemed to find the idea of being related to Cookiehead distasteful. But there was a joking twinkle in her eyes. “I guess it’s true.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Though I like to think everybody treats their Pokemon that way.” A thick paw descended to his mess of hair as if to ruffle it. But the cat's wrinkled snout ruined any joviality in the action.

Then, Jangle snickered.“Like moms and dads?” Biscotti parroted back at her. Then, he winced. “Yeah, that—that makes way more sense. Geeze. ” Again, that comfort grin surged back to the forefront.
At her question, his lips pursed. “Well, they were here. Where else could they—?” Turned in the opposite direction, he didn’t notice the crumbling wood. A noise of surprise erupts as he’s tugged away. The area around them filled with dust. With a CRACK the blood-dappled statues vanished.

And so did their exit.

“Thanks for the save.” A hand reached to brush blood away from his eye. “You okay?”

Instead of Nabi’s voice, something in the clearing debris growled.[break][break]

His hand reached for a spear that no longer existed.

nabi park

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]From seconds from death one moment to scaring off Zubat the next, Howard was an odd guy. But Biscotti didn’t say that. Instead, he just smiled—the gesture bright and almost dog-like. “You definitely showed us.” He did his best not to be offended by the archaelogist’s effectiveness. It kind of sucked that he couldn’t scare off bats, but that was a good thing too, right? Some people were just chill.

“You’re welcome.Love to have you swing by again!” He grins. “Just bring your wallet next time!” That comment—meant to be funny—feels petty when it leaves his mouth. It wasn’t like he really cared if someone ate a sandwich. ”Or, just, some money!” Wow, that was so much better. Geeze. Time to shut up now.

In the end, Biscotti settles for a farewell grin.

howard slayte

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[attr="class","bisc"]Birds of a feather flock together. This is what the brunette thinks. It’s what he wishes would come out. But, instead, he just goes, “Yeah?” There’s a brief pause. “That’s cool.” Even the awkward conversationalist realizes he’s dead-ending it. Quick! Say something. “Me too.” There’s a pause as his eyes slide to his Incineroar. That didn’t exactly look pretty, did it? “About pretty girls—beautiful girls and Pokemon, I mean.” A comment that, honestly, failed to make things better. It didn’t even make sense.

When his error is parroted back, Biscotti notices it. Suddenly, it’s as clear as day. But to mention it now would be correcting somebody else. And it’s not like it actually matters. Both of them knew what he meant. “Yeah. Mining equipment and stuff.” He mimes a helmet and draws a rough shape in the air in front of him. It looked more like a cross than anything functional. “I don’t think kidnappers would bother grabbing it.”

There’s a pause as Biscotti lifts the paper to his nose in the dim light. Letting his feet guide him forward, he slowly drifted toward his Incineroar. He used the light of her belt to make the list clearer. He didn’t notice that she was holding up three fingers. The baker also fails to notice as blue-yellow eyes roll toward the ceiling. “It looks like one, two—five?” His murmuring pauses as he jumps back to the top. He flushes. “No, wait, three.” Jangle snorts and shifts him around a stalagmite in the middle of the road.

“They all have the same last name too.” They enter a cavern lit by an abandoned flashlight. “What are the chances of—oh.” He blinks. The place is a mess. In the corner, statues of a dog, a bird, and a monkey leer on.

nabi park

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette smiled up at her. “Yeeeah.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Life’s been kind of—” Uh, what? He made a serpentine gesture with one hand before following up with what seemed to be pantomiming a balloon animal. “--life-y.” The cake decorator finishes with a shrug of scrawny shoulders. That wasn’t to say that he’d been busy there. A reunion with Shalin and the chimera just hadn’t been on the top of his list mostly because he didn’t know what to say.

Which, really, was an all-the-time thing.

He whistles at the announcement. That seems like a really long, really dangerous journey for an egg. Wouldn’t it be easier to find somewhere closer? Sharing a brief glance with Lathiel, he reaches into his hoody pocket. From it, he pulls out three cupcakes in little plastic baggies. They’re made of rich, dark chocolate. The tops—before being squished inside—were piped to look like Tauros heads. They were leftovers from a little boy’s rodeo birthday party. “That’s why I always bring snacks!”

He offered one to Shalin and Lathiel before cradling the last in his hands.

At the offer, the brunette nods. Jangle looks at the other cat with barely hidden jealousy. “Can’t say I’ve ever ridden a uh—” He gestures at the cat. It’s a gorgeous, sinewy creature. Though he has to wonder if the saddle’s uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be his choice of fashion. But people were weird. “--moggie before.” In truth, he’d never ridden much of anything. He didn’t really trust himself or Pokemon like that. Not when he could limp around with a broken back and not even know it. As he climbed on, he offered the last sweet to the overgrown housecat.

“Where’d all these eggs come from?” There’s a pause as his cheeks redden. “I mean—I know where Pokemon come from, but who had this many?” A Pokemon love hotel maybe?

Shalin Nariya

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]It all started with a dare. Someone had called him a Torchic, and he’d kind of taken offense to that. Then, next thing he knew, he was walking through this creepy house with a flashlight. Knowing Jangle wouldn’t approve—she was the real scaredy cat—he’d chosen his new bestest buddy to come along.

A street mutt turned roly-poly Houndour named Woof. He was a chonker with a friendly grin and silly walk. He also actually listened to Scotti. A real winning combination for the baker’s man.

The caution tape was brushed aside with only a brief hesitation. Then, the exploring began. His buddies asked him to bring back proof he’d been in here. The prize for the trespassing? A big, fat goose egg. Padding along the bottom floor, Biscotti and his silly buddy searched for something to carry out. As time went on, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up. Sure, he didn’t think ghosts were dangerous, but all those watching eyes were kind of creepy. A few times, he heard something snicker in the shadows.

“Hah! Found it!” At the end of the hallway, there’s a little brass figure of a stretching lady. It’s just the kind of proof he needs—it’s weird, spooky, and obviously old. As he steps onto what looks like a brand-new Persian rug, Scotti doesn’t even think about how out of place it seems.

As he steps onto it he finds his foot poised over empty air. “!?” His eyes widen as he stumbles forward. CRASH! Old rotten wood breaks as Biscotti tumbles into the remnants of a cellar. This same material leaves him covered in scratches. Unbeknownst to him, a shard of one board goes straight through his left leg—the downside of not having working pain signals.

With a grumble, the brunette tries to clear his head. He stares around the space he’s found himself in, fingers crossed for a way out. But the place is basically a cell. If there was a door, it’s been covered by another collapse.

After a few attempts at jumping for the hole, he curses his diminutive stature. “At least you’re all right.” He murmurs to the puppy pacing anxiously around the hole. “Can you find a rope or something?” Maybe he could lasso a pillar or something? In his panic, he’s completely forgotten the cell phone in his pocket.

The puppy vanishes. A few ghosts begin teasing it and, just like that, any thoughts of its trainer vanish. Sometime later, Biscotti’s new world is interrupted by a large crash nearby. He screams. “Holy cupcakes!” Shoving his way past the debris, he stumbles toward the strange girl. “!?” The gasp of pain draws him near. His dimming flashlight sweeps over her face. “You all right?” His leg glistens with fresh blood.

Isabella Lavigne

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]“You went for Navidson?” Biscotti tried to whistle, but the sound came out wet and whispery. Another thing he’d never managed to master. Looking at the stats, Devlin seemed like the easy choice. Speed could be dealt with pretty easily. If you weren’t a moron anyway. And he was a dude—that made things easier. “I’m pretty sure Tsubaki would eat us—” Jangle’s eyes turn fiery. She wasn’t fond getting lumped in with him like that. Obviously.. “--me alive.”

Even if he felt left behind, Biscotti’s grin beamed with pride. There was no denying his sis was on the right path. It shown through every pore. “That’s great!” His voice dropped. “Just don’t tell Mom.” She still thought Cannolli had him in a bubble or something. As he turned awkwardly toward the sea, the brunette felt his heart squeeze. He knew why her smile felt so nostalgic. “You’re turning out like Dad!” All hellfire and insurmountable ads. A real Caterpie to Beautifly situation.

But, then, the pair started arguing. “The three times you almost—!?” But then he paused. He clapped his hands to his ears. “No! No! Don’t tell me!” Because he’d let it slip to mom and then they’d have a monster breathing down their throat. Then it’d be bye-bye Scotti independence.

As she talked about her wins, Biscotti listened. As she finishes, he blinks. “You did non-trad? I figured battling was easier.” It was the stuff they practiced since they were kids. It seemed way easier than facing the gym leaders in their elements. At the talk of knowing his Pokemon, Scotti sighed. It sounded a lot like what Josh said—that his Pokemon weren’t in sync. Like not being a tyrant was a bad thing. “You think I don’t know, JJ?”

Then, he was being challenged to a fight. It took him a minute to catch on, his eyes jumping between her balls and her face. Then, it clicked. “You’re on!” His hands grappled for two of his own balls. Notably, they weren’t the familiar ones covered in superhero stickers. That’d be too easy. Everybody in the family knew Jangle. But, uh, he didn’t really have much strategy aside from that.

Already sweating bullets, he tossed out the ones he grabbed. One of which wasn’t the right one. A Zeraora snarled as his Poliwhirl stepped up to the plate. “Meet BZZZZT and Ribbit!”

Vanilla Kingsley

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