Her eyes narrow slightly as she puckers her lips with frustration. He had a point.

She takes a cautious step back.

“No,” she responds reluctantly, her voice similar to that of a sulking child. “But I’m not incapable – I can handle things just fine myself.”

As his hand hovers above something on his waist, her Pokémon behind her move towards her protectively. Her eyebrows scrunch together at the action. At the audacity.

“You’re not doing well to convince me you aren’t a criminal, you know.”

She pauses.

“Who are you?”

☉

notes: mission | outfit | hair

Alison shifts herself into a seated position, the dull ache from her bruises spreading across her muscles and skin with an uncomfortable throb. As the HEAL PURSE rouses from the underboss’s bayleef, her body relaxes in anticipation of its effect.

But with a click of the underboss’s tongue, it vanishes. Alison feels her mouth go dry.

She looks at Theo with lowered eyes, her eyes darting across his expression with confusion – nervousness. From the floor, his presence over her felt formidable. 

“We…” her mind scrambles for an appropriate answer, “…aim for influence, and control, and to protect citizens from the corruption of League. And… we are currently preparing for war to ensure we succeed in that… And…”

She struggles to stop her voice trailing off.

THEO BECKETT

☉

His softened expression gave her heart a pang of hope, but dread still lingered in the bottom of her stomach, irremovable and heavy.

Even with every bit of advice he offered her, she didn’t want to admit that Grigori’s bleak outlook and interpretation of her situation scared her. She was struggling to hide the sick feeling that was rising in her throat, to hide her damning realisation of what she had gotten herself into.  

“I hope you’re right about all this, otherwise...” she trailed off, swallowing.

As she went to speak again, she stopped as his voice broke through first. Her mouth stayed partly agape as her eyes widened at his disposition.

Wait, was he crying?

She watched Grigori’s face, sadness and guilt etched into every feature, and quickly casted her eyes away to plaza once more. She couldn’t figure out the feeling she had welling up in her chest from his reaction. Embarrassment? Shame? Sympathy? All three?

“Please, don't be sorry. I only have myself to blame for what happens now. For what I do. I should be the one who is sorry.” Alison’s voice was low, her own eyes beginning to betray her and sting.

Before any tear could fall, she registered his final words. The error in his wording.

Her body froze.

“June?” her eyes flicked back to Grigori with a puzzled furrow of her brows. “Why did you just call me June?”

Grigori Sokolov

☉

“Oh!” She tries to mask her surprise as she flips her head around, straightening her spine at the sight of the admin. She’d been too distracted to notice his entrance, embarrassment warming her cheeks at the mistake she’d already made.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were already here.”

His chien pao’s presence leaves her nerves high, Alison trying with everything she can to not meet its eye, to ignore the way it was revelling in her unease. It was proving difficult.

“Does stage combat count?” she jokes with a sheepish smile. No matter the admin’s response, her expression falters as soon as she finishes her sentence. Casting her eyes to the floor and raising her eyebrows in disbelief at herself, her voice continues more flatly.

“Nothing.”

☉

notes: mission

The pampering Sevastian showed her would have made any girl question whether this was simply a sporadic dinner or something more – like a date. Alison knew better than to let any girlish thoughts get the best of her, but still, as he opened doors for her and called them a taxi, she couldn’t help an impish smile creeping up on her lips.

Even if she knew better, it didn’t mean she couldn’t bask in it.

As they found themselves seated at the table, the ambient lighting of the restaurant and low chatter of customers encompassing them with pleasant sense of privacy, Alison gestured to a waiter for a small glass of white wine. Once she had received it, she rested her chin on her knuckles and skimmed through the menu.

As she was pondering between a paella or tortilla-based dish, his voice broke her concentration, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

“I haven’t been in Hoenn too long,” she says, taking a sip from her wine glass. “A few months, maybe? Things were – drying up back in Kalos, so I thought it was best to have a change of scenery. Hoenn is always lovely this time of year, anyway.”

She takes a moment to think before continuing. To get her words right.

“I… Have been trying to keep my profile low,” she says carefully, her words controlled. Her gaze flickers to the table, breaking eye contact momentarily. “That’s probably why you haven’t seen much of me in the media. I haven’t felt too interested in interviews and performing as of late. The limelight felt a little too garish.”

She strains her cheeks into a tight smile, placing her glass down and knotting her fingers together to rest her chin on them.

“What about you? Are you from Hoenn, or are you visiting as well? You seem to be have a lot of big shoots going on - you must be busy.”

sevastian beau

☉

Despite yearning for the HEAL PULSE his bayleef offers, she instinctively leans away from him as he approaches, wary of the potential of being thrown back onto the course. Of being at the peril of exploding voltorb – again.

His words make her face contort into a grimace.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she murmurs in response, disagreeing with his sentiment. She barely relishes in the accomplishment she has just achieved, her mind too busy processing what has just happened. “I’ll be glad to never do that again.”

At her own words, her heart suddenly lurches at the idea that this might not be over. Her head snaps to look at him, eyes wide as they seek clarity.

“I don’t have to do that again… do I?”

THEO BECKETT

☉

Her body was tense as she willed her hands to drop. Despite a reluctance to believe him, Alison allowed him the benefit of the doubt.

She knew she stood no chance against a Rocket underboss, and that any escalation would only end badly for her, not for him. Of what she knew about Cillian, if he wanted to hurt her, it would have happened by now. She'd be dead. But, as she stood facing the underboss, having seen him help her drive out the rowdy crowd that had hounded her, she remained unscathed.

Still in one piece. Still alive.

Head lowered with a timidness she couldn’t shake, Alison’s eyes flickered to his empty palms, to his pokeballs, then finally to his eyes. She had to believe he had good intentions. She had to.

Disbelief flashed across her face at his proposition.

“Help each other?” She shook her head in confusion, her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand – How? Why? You're Rocket. What could I possibly do to help you?”

Cillian Quinn

☉

Ameena’s praise for Alison’s choice of Rocket filled her heart with child-like admiration. It was heartening to know she was around the right people – the sort of people who could help her achieve what she wanted to, no matter the consequences.

“Thank you, all of this sounds - perfect.” 

A small, confident smile painted her lips at the mention of undercover work.

“I believe I may be of use in that department, if it is needed. I don't think I'll have any issues making connections in League - I still have my own connections in the performance scene. I’m sure I could benefit Rocket and uncover important information for our cause, if necessary.”

Even with Alison’s inward fear of the underbosses and their authority – particularly from her own encounters of them thus far – she desperately desired to showcase her value to them and impress them. She was, if anything, a people pleaser – and if Ameena’s advice could help her in aiding Rocket’s war movement, gaining influence, and pursuing her own desires, she was keen to take it.

“We can definitely battle – or, well I can try to. That is something I definitely must work on before the inevitable war…” Alison trailed off, careful to control her cheeks from blushing from embarrassment at her weakness.

At the mention of Ultra Space and RKS, she shook her head, unfamiliar with the subjects.

“I can’t say I’ve heard of those - or been there. Should I have? What are they?”

ameena abadi

☉

Alison stood in the heat of the desert with a flat expression. Arms crossed over her chest, and hair twice its size and frizzy from the humidity, she side-eyed her companions with uncertainty. What on earth had she got herself into?

It was one thing to go exploring in a desert of all places, but now to be head-to-head with a potentially powerful and ancient Pokémon – with strangers? She would be questioning her decisions after this for many weeks if she got back alive. 

If she got back alive.

For now, she just needed to focus on the issue at hand.

At Cassandra’s words, she straightened and gave her Ninetales a quick raise of her eyebrows. A silent question. Are you ready? He ruffled his tails nervously in response.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Alison responded, giving Hailee a lazy smile. A light joke to ease the tension, albeit truthful.

Releasing a breath, Alison anticipated the beast’s arrival.

☉

tl;dr: introduction[break]

SPOILER: Click to show

flamethrower: strike, afflict[break]
will-o-wisp: afflict[break]
extrasensory: strike, hinder[break]
baby-doll eyes: hinder[break]
quick attack: strike, rush[break]
fire spin: strike[break]

When jayden cross had invited her for training this morning, she had pictured a light sparring match or self-defence class. Something that was unarmed – something easy.

As she was learning with Rocket, it was never going to be what she imagined.

With one manicured hand on her hip, and the other resting on her mouth inquisitively, Alison gnawed on her lip as she stared at the array of swords in front of her. Adorned in a large glass case on the wall, they gleamed at her menacingly. In some performances she had used prop swords (the ones where the tip of the blade was blunt enough to barely impale an apple), but with the real instruments now in front of her, they hummed with a lethal and violent energy she hadn’t experienced before.

Her heart fluttered with nerves.

“I should have worn my cheaper leggings,” she whispered to herself as she awaited the admin’s arrival.

☉

notes: mission

Alison moves towards him with quick feet, her pompous dress rustling loudly from all its pleats and fabrics. While tame, the slight tinge of sarcasm in his tone makes him that more suspicious to Alison, her frown hardening as she stands next to him.

Her heels giving extra height over his crouched body, she looks down at him judgingly. Giving a once over of his outfit, she scrunches her nose with distaste.

Is this what engineers wore nowadays?

“I did. Am I to believe you are trying to help the situation, or are you the culprit behind this?” she folds her arms across her chest, impatient and dissatisfied.

☉

notes: mission | outfit | hair