[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]she scowls.

her dating life is... not healthy, actually, but it's not that bad.

"yes, there's more than one."

the tone implies it's not his business to question her dating history. they're not even friends, really.

her arms cross over her chest, the movement a little sluggish.

"man, woman, serial killer... doesn't matter. it isn't really your business."

she, for one, hopes it's a nice guy or girl and not a serial killer. she'd hate to end up on the news for that reason instead of her charming personality.

caden maher

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]"which one?"

the question comes quick, sharp, as if it's not his place to ask.

and she presses the block button a moment later. the rush of relieved satisfaction is, unfortunately, very short-lived. it becomes a small hollowness soon after...

for another one has bit the dust.

"what's it to you, anyway?"

it's not. she knows he doesn't care about who she is or what she does or who she texts. it's all just a game, isn't it?

caden maher

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]would she regret it?

would it become one of those circumstances where later on in life, she'd look back on this and wish she didn't give up so easily? perhaps... but she only regrets a small list of things.

and while he might be an ass, he is not a name or event on her list. not yet, anyway.

"i wouldn't regret it."

it's half a challenge, mostly a truthful lie.

in this current moment, she would not regret it.

and when nights stretch into painfully long weeks and she's tired of being alone every moment of every day, perhaps then she'd begin to regret casting him away.

she decides, in a brief realization, that it wouldn't matter if she did.

"i'll do it right now, in fact."

and her hand reaches to pluck up her phone with an impulsive quickness.

caden maher

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]she goes pink in the cheeks.

well, pinker than the alcohol-induced flush that coats her face. it's not because he laughs at her in that sharp, grating sort of way. absolutely not.

"i don't even know what it said!"

as far as she's concerned, she didn't even send it.

he plans for that, however. with a single tap of his finger, her phone brightens and her own misdoings stare up at her. she blinks and lets out a soft, "tch".

"i should've blocked your number."

not like it'd matter anyway. it isn't like he texts her. it's more... to prevent her own dumb mistakes from occurring.

caden maher

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]thomas nightingale begins to talk to her and for a moment, she stills to listen.

he doesn't get to say whatever he intended to. it's cut short and she doesn't have a chance to ask what he had meant to say. instead, there's a quickness to the way events happen. from ollie morales's pokemon's electro ball blowing a hole through the side of the ship to thomas nightingale protecting their group with his own pokemon as a group of huntail and gorebyss begin to swarm.

she treads water, watching as the threats are quite literally swallowed up. their blood still lingers a little in the water...

and as mint frost leads them into the hole ollie had opened, she feels a stronger burning sensation on her body than before. she raises a hand to scratch at her face. and where soft skin should be, she meets... shell?

"oh!"

when did that get there? she plucks at it, irritated by the protrusion of it coming out of her skin. she hadn't felt it embed itself and the longer she tugs at it, the more it clings to her nerve endings. she yelps and leaves it alone. it's not the worst thing in the world to have seashells sticking out of your body, she supposes.

in the process of trying to remove the odd mutation, her group has already pushed on ahead.

and there, in the darkness of this water, she feels fear creep back in. it poisons the mind. she looks left then right. no sign of life. even the aggressive pokemon have seemingly vanished.

"hello?"

her voice sounds small, afraid.

she can't shake the thoughts as they come, either. did they leave her here? did they escape to fend for themselves? is she going to be stuck here all alone? will she die here?

a whimper escapes and she begins to panic in the ship's opening. by herself, she doesn't stand a chance. she... she doesn't even remember what pokemon she's brought with her! does she have her whip? was that left behind too?

she tries rushing forward, tries blindly finding the group again. it does little to quell the panic, the fear, the tears swept away by the dark sea.

and the longer she searches, the longer she tries to avoid abandonment by her little group... the more lost she becomes. she ends up in another part of the hollow ship, among treasure troves and shiny objects that she can't even begin to look at because how is she going to get out of here and how could this happen to her again and again?

mint frost thomas nightingale ollie morales

09 the longer you stay, the more likely you will receive a temporary and horrific mutation (e.g. a barnacle growing on the skin, a patch of shell, etc.) that disappears upon your return to hoenn.

🗺️ GIADA MORGAN's bitterness about being abandoned by SÉNON GAME in Rocket, or general fears over abandonment, must be recalled or affecting in this thread.

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]her nose scrunches as he slides into the booth beside her. proximity -- no, alcohol -- makes her feel a little fuzzy.

"why would you have to hope for that?"

is having fun not an easy thing to do? she knows drinking is.

speaking of, she makes quick work of the remaining sip in her glass before raising a hand to signal for another. he'll have to get his own.

"messy?"

she says it as if it's the worst thing in the world, as if it's offensive and she's a moment away from slapping him. she might be, really.

"i have no issue getting picked up, thank you very much."

she won't even touch upon the other question. it dies out suddenly, buried beneath a statement.

"you came pretty quickly."

caden maher

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]she blinks as ollie morales writes off his weird little saplings, shuffling along to introduce himself instead.

and after a moment, she mirrors easygoing atmosphere of her team with a grin.

"sounds good to me!"

maybe it holds some treasure... she's in the market for new pearls, anyway.

she's the last to follow the group, swimming along behind them as they approach the looming shadow. as they get closer, the ship begins to take shape. it's ominous, as if it's moving yet not. creepy.

and halfway through, the burning in her arms grows. with each kick of her feet to swim forward, it's almost like the sensation is getting... worse? at one point, she even has to stop because she swears she's started seeing stars. or, wait... are they staryu?

the group doesn't wait, however, and she's lingering too far behind.

all the way in the back, it's easy to feel fear creep in. it's subtle at first. and yet, when she rejoins the group, the fear stays. it lingers, persistent.

"can we kick it in? or, uhh, is there a hole somewhere to sneak in through?"

as she talks, she waves an arm around to gesture toward the hull of the ship. her eyes don't catch sight of the state of her arm but her group can see pieces of seashells sticking out of her arm as if growing out from the bone within. and when her face turns toward the ship to inspect it for a moment before turning back to the group, it's clear that the seashells are also beginning to come out from the skin of her cheeks as well.

mint frost thomas nightingale ollie morales

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]well this is definitely the... oddest place she's ever been.

she can't decide what to look at: the water, the weird floating stones, the glowing algae. all of it is pretty in a creepy, probably going to kill you sort of way.

isn't that the best?

she's the last in the group to "swim" forward, shorter legs kicking a little awkwardly. is she supposed to just sort of float along or swim? this is weird.

"hey boys!"

she grins. somehow, the skin of her arms and cheeks feel off. itchy and irritated, almost, despite the water around them.

"which way are we going first?"

she trusts their collective sense of direction more than her own. the right idea, really.

and when she gets close enough, she leans toward ollie and raises a finger toward his shoulder as if to poke it.

"looks like ya got a lil something..."

mint frost thomas nightingale ollie morales

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]she arrives early. perhaps too early to be considered happy hour and too late to be considered day drinking but... the holidays hold a certain spell over her. she can't manage to shake it.

caden maher would find her in one of the seats at the bar in the nimbus, nursing a negroni with a dash of prosecco. it's the... fifth or sixth drink? she's lost count somewhere between making eyes at the bar tender and sending a risky come hither text to a man she's long since ghosted.

and when she does, inevitably, turn around to find that very man in the same vicinity, she's slow to come up to bat.

"interesting."

it sort of comes out more as inch-er-esting but that's neither here nor there.

"what're you doing here?"

if she were to, say, unlock her phone, she'd find the very typo'd text still sitting on her screen with the read symbol beneath it.

caden maher

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]"maybe i would."

it's daring, perhaps, but she's curious all the same. it festers with continuation.

"what do they teach you?"

is that what happened to his face? a brief, fleeting look of concern flashes across her features before dying out.

and then, they're at his destination and he's straightening after the box is safely on the ground. she tilts her head up to look at him, to adjust her eyes to the light behind him.

mistletoe hangs quietly, waiting and winking overhead. she doesn't notice it. no, it's white noise when teal meets obsidian. she recognizes the look briefly, as if recalling a lavender haze wrapped memory from the recesses of the mind.

it's hard to lie, then, with his eyes focused on her like this.

"no."

quiet, barely audible, too honest.

caden maher
festive flirts.

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]a soft hum escapes.

"and do they find out?"

color her curious. true or not, it's an interesting take on the whole angry boyfriend thing. perhaps that's the way to go?

his eyes shift to her and hers retreat as quickly as his come. it's an uncomfortable topic for her, realistically. she'd prefer to avoid it if she could, continue to shove it under the rug until emotional object impermanence takes over and she forgets the sensation.

"not particularly but..."

she raises her chin a little higher as if to defy her fate.

"getting there, i guess."

a few feet away, hanging delicately above the exit, a little sprig of mistletoe waits for victims.

caden maher
festive flirts.

[attr="class","giada"]

[attr="class","giada b"]

[attr="class","giada i"]she looks amused as he adjusts the package, eyes following the movement.

"not surprising."

then again...

"although, do they ever want to talk when they find out who their girlfriend's been doing?"

probably not. she imagines it's more flying fists than words.

she moves a little closer, then, to combat the cold. aren't you supposed to try huddling for warmth? is that a thing? regardless, she suspects it won't go very well.

"why?"

the question itself leaves her at a crossroads: does she lie or tell the truth? and regardless of what she says, it's not like he cares much anyway.

"he left."

rocket, her. good riddance is the bitter answer but it leaves behind a hollow sort of ache all the same.

caden maher
festive flirts.