even she can understand a mistake when she makes one, and it's a sad, sad day when she has to resort to drinking out - in public, no less - to get some company; but there's been a lot more of those sad, sad days, haven't there? it's worse when she realizes she's sitting on her bed, tired and groggy from the morning after to recall the happenings of the day before, and to frantically dash for the door in an attempt to bury a hatchet so deeply. evidence of her presence shouldn't be known, and evidence of her leaving will only be the strand of gold that falls from one of her tied up locks. daphne is a fully grown adult, and sometimes she has to remind herself when she goes out searching for companionship (when she reminds herself that it's okay to sleep once in a blue moon, and it's okay to ignore the ring that once embraced her finger). [break][break]

don't think about it, daphne. [break][break]

click go their glasses tapping against the other, and broader does her amusement spread across her smile. ever the perfectionist, she doesn't allow her lips to touch anywhere save the stain of red against the rim of her glass (it's this part of her that she loathes; the part that shows she's lucid, even to the slightest degree, screaming and kicking for some semblance of awareness). then he compliments her as she's mid sip, and it's so easy for her heart to flutter (and she's no stranger to the feeling of embarrassment that comes with a man outside of work, yet being able to reciprocate is such a foreign taste). a chuckle follow his comment, and she opts to switching her legs over; towards his body, this time. [break][break]

"calix~" the name is easy to say, and distinct enough for her to remember. in the depths of her haze, there's a part of her that thinks 'he isn't a bad person'. it isn't every day she feels that way - and it isn't every day she can speak to a man, but here she is - while holding idle small talk and conversation. she wants to say more; fill the occasional silence with banter and playfulness (alex was always good at that, so why was it difficult for her?), but instead she follows his name up with a quick once over his person, more instinctively. [break][break]

confidence can be faked to a point; the facade breaks hearing his compliment, and hearing that voice say her name (she feels so foolish, she feels the tinge of rose tickling her cheeks and she can't contain the smile that comes with it). "and yours a memorable one" another sip of her wine, and it's a quarter full. she lowers it in front of her and her other hand raises up to take a lock of the hair that hangs by the side of her face to twirl along, then gently clamp between her finger and thumb. it's held there even as she glances back with her ever radiant smile. [break][break]

"do you have plans after leaving the bar?~"

Calix Nikolau

☉

there was no time for pleasantries; not when she knows what was brewing in the tiny bagon's rock hard, numbskull head. there's the saying that trainers know their pokemon best and - with experience did she learn - there's no lie. there's a soft sheen of pink glowing from the petite dragon's head, with its chin tucked in and its stubby arms trying to lower to the ground, revving a zen-headbutt in all its pinkish glory. she doesn't know what the exchange involved, but she already knows - is already prepared - to apologize, profusely, to the trainer who seemed to stand not too far away. [break][break]

a lone sinistea is her saviour. [break][break]

and her scapegoat. there's pity, knowing that the little ghost pokemon had floated aimlessly and into the path of the two tyrant, ready and rearing to reenact godzilla. then there's relief, knowing that her bagon would most likely be more pre-occupied with the floating ghost pokemon than th-- oh arceus almighty, not that pre-occupied![break][break]

"apatite!" she calls out, in a tone that's emphasized as she carries herself onto her feet. usually, it would stop the bagon in its tracks (but you can't stop a bullet from firing after you pull the trigger, can you?) and her attempt is fruitless. the sinistea lets out a soft, pained cry as the petite dragon follows up with its own crunch. the sinistea can barely float away and shake off its iron maw, but not without another chip lodged between the bagon's lips. [break][break]

"apatite, come here! right now!" it's a cemetery and she doesn't want to raise her voice, but there's nothing she can do when the bagon has tasted metaphorical blood (she dreads to think of what is in that accursed teacup's tea) but snap it out of its daze. "goodness.." trekking her way closer to the pokemon, she then kneels down to pick up the little dragon who flails so violently in her hands. "i am.. so very sorry for my pokemon."[break][break]

she hasn't recognized him.[break]
but there's a certain degree of dread that overshadows her when she raises her gaze, and sees his face. [break]
where has she seen him before?

Calix Nikolau

☉

there's something. [break][break]

something about the tone, something about the way the smile dances upon his lips. something about the way he speaks, something about the adam's apple that moves along his throat to follow the fluid from the glass he has poured into. it must be the fog that sets over her brain, drawing her attention to the smaller details. it must be herself, craving for something impure (when in reality, she knows she's just lonely, and he just happens to be here, and she starts thinking that maybe she can hold his attention for a little while longer). he speaks in a casual tone, and again, it brings a smile to her lips as she begins to lower the glass back down. the glass is half full, with crimson stained against the rim. [break][break]

she likes this conversation. she likes this person. she wants him to stay. "perish the thought~" the smile raises her cheeks, and she's slightly amused with the accusation (enough to humour it, but not enough to admit its truth) - enough to raise her other hand to gently tap against his forearm - with a soft chuckle. then she pulls it back to her side shortly afterwords, clamping her fingers against the bottom of her seat as her body still leans towards him a slight bit more. another glance at her drink, and she raises it once again to the man who'd still yet to finish his liquor. [break][break]

another soft smile as she makes contact with her bright, emerald eyes "my name is daphne" she starts, glass raised with the cleaner part of the rim tilted towards him "to whom do i owe the pleasure?" and there's so much more she wants to say, and she wants to speed this up, but there's always something in her that will always resort to the formalities (it's only when she's buzzed does she forget that talking to others was always ana's forte).

Calix Nikolau

☉

ah yes, cemeteries. no.[break]
and no. [break]
and most definitely no.[break][break]

she's okay with going to the grave, and she's okay with paying her respects in this barren, quiet land. time moves slower here, she thinks it's because the departed wish for their rest - or their time has been suspended - but she doesn't know, and she'll never know. she only wanted to kneel and pray in front of one of the stones, hands clasped together (there's a chill she can't quite pinpoint, and she wonders such a thing would be up here, in a mountain consumed by pyre). [break][break]

she's come with the intention to leave a gift for the dearly departed, after abruptly leaving hoenn in the sorry state that she was (and approaching his grave was so hard, and it was so difficult to work up the courage. today, she felt like maybe it would be okay). daphne appears with flowers for the late stone, approaching the grave and kneeling. pay her respects, have a soft chat with the spirit she's sure isn't present, and leave; that was the plan. that was the plan. [break][break]

and she finds a tyrunt running around, biting stones without a care in the world. it's distracting. the bagon at her side waddles to the little runt, and begins to scold it in a body too small for its head. and it scolds, and she doesn't understand what the cries mean, but she sees it starting to rear its head and--[break][break]

"w-whoa, wait--"

Calix Nikolau

☉