What Happens After a Swimming Competition

Swimming Makes Everyone Friends:
An RP Log

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DeathByStrawberry:

Elis stumbled onto the sand, having just finished the marathon. Her muscles burned and she was completely out of breath. It had been a while since she had swam so competitively, and in salt water at that. Not really caring where she sat, she flopped down next to a Roserade gijinka breathing heavily.

PickeBicke:

Hearing a wet thump beside him and feeling the sand shift, Peter cracked open one ruby red eye and glanced to the side. The Politoad woman from earlier was flopped down on the beach, breathing as heavily as he was. Seemed they were all exhausted from the swim.

Suddenly feeling talkative the florist smirked and drawled, "Tired out too, huh? Think I mighta busted a muscle swimmin' so fast." He winked at her. "Noticed you didn't like the saltwater all that much. I'm not a fan of it either."

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis blinked surprised to hear the man speak. Looking over at him she grinned. "you beat me. It's been awhile since swam so competitively. Guess i'm a little rusty." Her nose crinkled in disgust as she thought of the saltwater. The bitter taste of it still lingering on her tongue. "I'm not a big fan of the ocean in general, saltwater being one of the many reasons."

PickeBicke:

The Roserade quirked a brow. He hadn’t realized he’d stayed ahead of her. “I get it. Still, swimming from Amusement to Atoll is more than I ever did in my competitive days.” He chuckled. “And bein’ part grass type means I’m all dried up thanks to that damn salt!” He licked his lips, already beginning to feel them chap and crack.

Grimacing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a waterproof bag he’d stored a miniscule tube of chap-stick in. At least he’d come prepared. Cracking it open he spread the soothing balm over his lips and sighed. Aaah, that felt so much better!

“So,” Peter continued as he stored the tube back in his pocket, “you headin’ home or you gonna stick around to try some more events?” He motioned to the salt lines beginning to show up all over his skin as the seawater dried. “I’m about done myself. I need a good long shower before I can even think of doin’ anything else.”

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis nodded in agreement " Shower is my top priority I can't stand the feel of the salt" She said with a grimace, feeling the salt start to dry in her hair. It would be a pain to clean. Realizing that she would either have to swim back or walk over several islands to get back to the Bakery she let out a long sigh, neither option seemed very appealing. "Unfortunately I live on Rapture Retreat. which means I might have to swim all the way back. yuck."

PickeBicke:

"You could always swing by my place and shower."

The words are out of Peter's mouth before his mind can really catch up with them.

"Not that I'm trying to be weird or anything! I mean, uh, you know...it's closer and you could always catch a cab...or something." He rubs the back of his neck and silently curses his big mouth. He didn't even know this chick! The hell was he thinking?

She probably thinks I'm some kinda perv now. Great!

DeathByStrawberry:

"Really? Thanks!" A grin broke out over her face. It hadn't even registered with the politoed that what he offered could have been taken the wrong way. She stood, brushing the sand off of her legs and shaking it out of her hair. She offered a hand up to her companion. "I'm Elis by the way."

PickeBicke:

Well...that went better than expected. Reaching out to shake her hand in return, the Roserade gave his signature grin, body losing the edge of tension it had been under.

"Peter Brooks. Nice to meet you, Elis." He jerks his chin in the direction of the road. "I got a cab to wait for me up there so I wouldn't have to walk home. Shouldn't be too hard to find."

Leading the way across the vast expanse of beach, Peter soon found that his cabbie had parked under the relative shade of some trees and was waving frantically at them. Seems as if some of the officiators of the Summer Events were telling him he couldn't park there. "Calm down, we're here. We're here, alright? We're leaving!"

Letting Elis jump in first the Roserade plopped into the seats beside her and slammed the door. Rattling off his address to the driver he then leaned back and allowed his muscles to relax for a little longer.

The ride took about a half hour but soon the cabbie was dropping them off in front of the modest two-story red-brick house that Peter had bought dirt-cheap in the sales ads. With all his attention focused on the shop, all he'd been able to do with the place was give the door a fresh coat of white paint.

"Whelp, this is it," the grass-type said sheepishly as he opened the door. "It's not much but its home." Thankful that he had at least tidied up at some point during the week he stepped inside and pointed up the stairs. "Second door to your right is the bathroom. Feel free to use any shampoo you find there or whatever. I can rustle up something to eat if you like while I wait. Can't promise much more than a ready-to-cook TV dinner or burger but, ya know; food is food."

DeathByStrawberry:

"It's great!" Elis looked around the house in appraisal. In comparison, her bakery seemed rather small. She wasn't even able to afford to have a separate house; she lived in a loft above the shop. Not that she was complaining; she was grateful that she was able to even live on the Islands.

Elis gave Peter a nod of thanks, as he pointed out the location of the shower. She couldn't wait to be rid of the salt and change out of her wet suit. Suddenly she was grateful that she had brought a spare change of clothing.

She started up the stairs, but stopped suddenly, turning back around to look at Peter. “If you can wait till I'm out of the shower. I'll whip up something for us to eat." The idea of eating a T.V. dinner made her stomach flip. Besides, it was the least she could do, he had let her into his home and borrow his shower.

She turned and raced up the stairs, eager to be clean. About 20 minutes later, Elis walked down the stairs, a towel draped over her shoulders, hair ruffled and slightly damp. "You can get in now," she called, deciding to walk through the house, until she found the kitchen. Upon finding it, she proceeded to pull out various ingredients and utensils. By the time Peter was out of his shower, the table was filled with delicious looking breakfast foods.

PickeBicke:

Peter stopped, the microwave dinner he'd been taking out of the fridge suspended in one hand. Years of living off ready-made dinners and fast food had taught the Roserade to never refuse the offer of a home-cooked meal. His mouth was watering just thinking about it.

"Uh, sure..." He replaced the container. "If you can find anything worth cookin' with feel free. Thanks."

He whittled away the time while she showered by feeding Martin and giving Pepper a quick bath in the sink. The damn monkey had taken to sleeping in the garden and her fur would get covered in dirt or various mulches. When Elis returned the cat had just disappeared into the living room while Pepper sat, clean and fluffy, atop the refrigerator.

The primate's curious gaze followed the Politoad as she came in and started to pull out various ingredients. Chuckling, Peter got up from his chair and headed upstairs. "Don't worry 'bout Pepper, alright? She's a little loud but she's pretty friendly. I doubt Martin, my Glameow, will care about you one way or the other so if you see him just leave him be. I shouldn't be too long."

Fifteen minutes later the Roserade tromped down the stairs, fresh T-shirt and jeans on and curly hair still damp from the shower. His stomach rumbled at the enticing scents coming from his kitchen and as he turned the corner he stopped in surprise. "You made all this?"

He didn't even know he had that much food in his fridge! Pulling up a chair he grabbed a plate and started piling it up. "Damn, I haven't had an actual breakfast in... well, feels like forever." Taking a bite out of an omelet he moaned as the flavors hit his tongue. "Oh god, this is friggin' amazing. Consider the showering privileges repaid tenfold!"

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis couldn't help but grin at Peter's reaction to her food. Sure she'd gotten complements on it before but none as strong as his. He seemed to be really enjoying it. More than she'd expected. But this was the reason she had learned to cook in the first place. Something so simple could bring a smile to someone's face and make their whole day better.

"You don't eat home cooked meals too often huh?" She asked raising an eyebrow. "So what you just eat frozen food all the time? That doesn't sound very appetizing. Let alone good for your health."

Movement on top of the fridge caught her attention, and jogged her memory. Rising from the chair, she grabbed one of the bowls of Pokemon food, which she had whipped up while waiting for Peter to finish his shower, and placed it on top of the fridge. "Pepper right? Here try this. I think you'll find it to your liking." She turned away, setting the other bowl on the floor, for the glameow to enjoy.

After returning to her seat, Elis turned back towards Peter "If you'd like, I could show you how to cook." She shrugged, smiling sheepishly at him “I can't promise that you'll become a master chef. But at least you'd be able to fend for yourself, instead of relying on frozen meals all the time." She wasn't sure how he'd take the offer. For all she knew she might have offended him in some way.

PickeBicke:

The Roserade shook his head, setting his curls to bouncing. “Nah, don’t really have the time to make anything myself even if I did know how. Most I can do is soup out of a can or boxed cakes.” He watched gratefully as Elis went to give Pepper and Martin some food as well, sneaking a piece of bacon to the cat while her back was turned. Having lived as a stray for the first part of his life, the Glameow adored human foods.

Might not be all that healthy for him, but so far Peter hadn’t seen any adverse affects.
When the two Pokémon had cautiously sniffed at the proffered food, deemed it safe, and begun eating, the florist continued.

“They don’t taste that bad. You get used to it eventually. Though my mom insists on cooking for me whenever I drop by for a visit. She doesn’t think it’s all that healthy a lifestyle, either. Nothin’ beats her meals after years of frozen pizzas.” Chuckling, he scooped up the last of his eggs.

He didn’t expect what came next.

"If you'd like, I could show you how to cook."

The fork froze halfway in his mouth. Peter found that he could no longer concentrate on the rest of the conversation. Eyes glazing over, he forced himself to put it back down before he dropped it. The innocent offer had sparked memories the Roserade had long since buried and shoved other crap on top of.

“Would you like me to show you…?”

“Des, need I remind you of that omelet I once tried to make? The one that might as well have hatched into a Torchic on all our plates, it was so underdone?”

“…yes, I remember. But I promise; I’m a fantastic teacher…”

When he could at last string a couple words together, they came out fainter and a hell of a lot more unsettled than he had intended. “…thanks for the offer, but uh… trust me, others have tried and failed.” Not quite the truth (Peter had actually learned to make some simple omelets that day) but he didn’t feel like dragging the past out into the light anymore than it already had.

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis paused, watching the roserade's response with wide eyed surprise. Why on earth was he acting like that? Immediately her mind jumped to her food. Something was wrong with it. Don't be ridiculous she scolded herself mentally. But then what could it be?

As a million different questions raced through her mind, she tried to keep her expression neutral, but her lips involuntarily formed into a slight pout, betraying her true emotions.

Suddenly it hit her. It was something from his past that had caused his reaction. Out of nowhere she suddenly felt angry; a rolling surge of anger that turned her cheeks red overwhelmed the politoed. "Why the hell not? Are you seriously going to let past memories keep you from making new ones?" She stood up sharply, banging her hands on the table; revealing them.

Usually they were covered by gloves, but as she had forgotten them at home, they were completely revealed. Her hands were badly scared from the fire that had hurt so many, so long ago. The skin was oddly deformed; shiny and marbled. Some parts dark red and fading into pure white in other places.

"The past is history; that's all. It has no impact on our decisions today. Unless you let it. Arceus knows I never did." Slowly she sat back down, not meeting his gaze. As suddenly as it had come, her anger simply vanished. “Sorry," she muttered. "It's fine if you don't want to learn how to cook."

PickeBicke:

Her hands...

Peter had noticed they were a bit off-color before, spotting glimpses out of the corner of his eye on the beach and in the taxi. But he'd never realized exactly what that discoloration was.

"...you were burnt," he whispered, before the words really registered. His lips twisted into a wry grin. "...just like I was. Only my burns are internal."

And suddenly all Peter felt like doing was dropping his head onto his arms, face-down on the table. So he did, with a bone-deep sigh that set his ringlets fluttering.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry," he muttered after a few moments. One ruby eye peeked out from between his arms. "You're right. I know that... I shouldn't let the past get under m'skin. Let it keep me from doin' things or whatever."

Lifting his head, the Roserade eyed Elis for a second or two before pushing up until he sprawled back in his chair, face as neutral as he could make it.

"But I'm not able to move on like you have. At least, not yet. I know it's stupid and ridiculous but there's just no other way I can say it. Right now, I'm still hurting. And it will take me a long time before I can finally put it all behind me."

Chuckling, Peter allowed his hand to flop to the floor, right where Martin had begun curling around his chair. The Glameow mrrowed in concern, leaping up into his master's lap and glaring at Elis across the tabletop. The Roserade rolled his eyes before continuing.

"Moving on is why I came to Raccolto in the first place. Castelia held way too many memories for me to stay there, and having my own shop's helpin' me keep busy. Maybe I'll finally be able to let things go here. I mean," he smiled gently, winking at the Politoad.

"With townspeople like you havin' my best interests at heart, why wouldn't I? When I'm ready, you'll be the first I'll ask for a cooking lesson."

Sobering again, Peter's fingers began to trace abstract patterns into the wood grain. "But now... now isn't the time."

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis was slightly taken aback by his response. She leaned back into the chair, letting her hands fall into her lap. Suddenly she broke into a grin "But that's what Raccolto is all about right? Starting over new. It's a fresh start for those who need it." Seeing his expression, her smile faltered.

"Whoever they were, they didn't deserve you." She spoke firmly, looking the roserade in the eyes and holding his gaze. "They're not even worth your time thinking about! Let alone having your heart break over and over at the thought of them!" She stood up sharply, pushing the chair backwards and planted her hands once again on the table, leaning over it to stare at him. "They don't deserve to have you mourn over them! It's their loss not yours."

Her red eyes flashed, an enraged fire blazing in their depths. But not with anger at her companion. She was furious at the one who broke his heart and left Peter to pick up the pieces. How dare they!

Furiously, she picked up her plate and stormed over to the sink. In a matter of minutes the table was cleared and kitchen was sparkling clean. But it was long enough for her to work the anger out of her system. She returned to the table with a satisfied smile. "You said you had a shop right? What do ya sell?" She asked, raising an eyebrow as if challenging him to stay in his depressed state.

PickeBicke:

Her response surprised him. He hadn't expected her to get so fiercely loyal on his behalf, a person she'd only just met that morning. Her words warmed the florist and he found himself giving her a bright, genuine smile. Though Peter couldn't help thinking about Desdemon, every once in a while when there was no one else around and all his mind could do was wander back to how it used to be, to how it had felt, he appreciated someone telling him that it would all fade in time.

"...thank you."

And he meant it wholeheartedly. Clearing his throat, he watched as she gathered up all the dishes and silverware in an agitated huff, bursting into laughter when she'd washed them all in just a few minute. "Impressive," he chuckled. "I should get you stirred up more often. Bet you could clean my entire house from top t'bottom if I got you mad enough!" The Roserade winked to show he wasn't really serious.

The conversation drifted back towards safer topics, for which Peter was infinitely grateful for. Pleased that she had taken an interest in his shop he launched into a quick explanation. "I'm a florist. My shop's called ‘A Study in Violets’ and although it ain't much to look at right now, I'll have it renovated soon. I'm already working on gatherin' the cash to upgrade it and perhaps add a new section to the building."

Rubbing Martin behind the ears, he added, "You're welcome to stop by whenever you want."

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis blinked "A florist... really?" She wasn't sure why this surprised her so much, even with the fact that he was a grass type. Maybe it was his personality that threw her off. He just didn't seem like the type to sit around arranging flowers and such. But rather than shrugging it off as most people would've. It made her curious.

"So what made you become a Florist? Is it the whole Grass type thing you've got going on? Cause I really wouldn't've pinned you for the flower type. Or do you sell things other than flowers?" The way she asked wasn't rude at all, but instead rather comparable to a child asking questions, a charming innocence about it.

PickeBicke:

Peter chuckled, more than used to such a reaction. Most people who got to know him often wondered what made him choose to grow flowers for a living. "My mom used to have a flower garden," he began with a soft smile. "She would spend hours out there, digging in the soil and spreading mulch. She loved it almost as much as I do. When I was old enough she started showing me how to do it and, well, I kind of took to it like a fish in water. I guess I do owe it in part to my totem; I feel more connected when I'm close to the ground and the flora."

He laughed. "Being in charge of such small lives felt like a real huge responsibility. Within that garden I found peace whenever I was bullied or antagonized. The flowers didn't care that I preferred men to women. To them, it didn't matter that I was a bit rough around the edges or that I didn't quite care about my math classes. I took care of them and they responded by growing big and bright to cheer me up."

It seemed a bit silly when he put it like that, but that's how he'd felt when he was younger. Still did, sometimes. Seeing a young, fragile seed sprout into a lush, beautiful flower always brought him pride.

"Not to mention I loved looking up the meanings of the various flowers I was growin'. It was better than history class for sure. So, I took a job at the flower shop with my mom as soon as I could and eventually saved enough money to start my own here. I never really wanted to do anything else."

He eyed her, equally curious. "How 'bout you? What got you into your line of work?"

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis listen to Peter's story intently. She could definitely relate, but was slightly surprised when he asked for her own background. She smiled at the question.

"Let's see... I was born in Goldenrod, but I didn't grow up there. My father's a Primeape and he owns dojos all over the world. So naturally we were constantly on the move. I don't think we ever stayed in one place for more than a year, as you know, he was setting up dojo and checking up on others, stuff like that. I didn't mind really. There was always some new adventure waiting for me, but it did make it hard to make friends. The ones I did make didn't last very long. Although I do have 3 brothers so I wasn't ever lonely."

"My Aunt runs a restaurant in Goldenrod, and we would stop in to see her whenever we were in the area. I was so happy whenever I was there. It was the closest thing I had to a permanent home and I adored visiting. My Aunt taught me all the tricks and the trades of the restaurant business. She would often give me a new recipe to make before I left each time and I practiced the heck out of those recipes."

She chuckled. "But I'm pretty sure my family hated having to eat the same thing over and over again, especially when I got it wrong. But that sense of pride I got when I saw my aunt again and was able to make it perfectly for her was all worth it."

"I loved all of it of course, but I always had the most fun while baking bread. And I often used it to vent my frustrations too." She shrugged. "What can I say, I love making food. It can lift someone's mood in an instant just by the smell. I decided that that’s what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to make people happy." She grinned at Peter. "And what better way to do that than with food?"

PickeBicke:

Peter grinned, listening to her spin her tale, thinking back to his granddad when she mentioned her Primape father. He missed the old man. Maybe he should give him a call later, see how he was doing. At over eighty years old the former soldier was still kickin' up hell on a daily basis.

"Moving sucks," the florist grumbled when she spoke of all her homes. "We used to live in Virbank City before my dad got shot. Shattered his kneecap to pieces and since he was a cop, he couldn't exactly go chasin' after criminals anymore. We moved to Castelia when I was nineteen and I hated it." Until you met Des, his traitorous mind whispered. Frowning, he shook his head to dislodge the thoughts and focused on the rest of Elis’ story.

Imagining Elis trying and failing numerous dishes while forcing her family to eat them made him clench his mouth to keep from laughing. Sounded like him whenever his parents came to his old apartment. Her aunt sounded like a very cool person. Peter would have loved to meet her, see whether she could whip his poor cooking into shape.

“She sounds great,” he said softly. “I used to learn fighting from m’granddad. He was the one who made sure I could hit back as good as I got. I remember I once knocked a kid’s teeth right out and he applauded when I was sent home.”

Sighing, the Roserade got up and moved to his fridge, rummaging around for a can of Pepsi. Popping it open he swallowed it down in three big gulps and chucked the empty can into the trash. “So you bake too, huh?” he asked over his shoulder. “I for one can say for sure that a good meal boosts my spirits right up!”

Tilting his head, he looked at her and winked. "You're definitely a success."

DeathByStrawberry:

"I have two older brothers, both primeapes as well. My dad trained all of us, but I can easily kick both of their butts." She grinned. "It's been that way since I was little. My dad always said that my totem was wrong; I should've been the primeape"

Elis closed her eyes, leaning back in the chair and placing her hands behind her head. At his last comment, she opened one red eye to peer at him. "You think so huh? I'm not completely convinced yet. I guess I've yet to prove it to myself, after the fire."

She leaned forward in the chair once more, a determined light dancing in her eyes. "But that's the fun of it!"

PickeBicke:

Peter laughed outright, picturing Elis stomping around her house and bashing her brother's heads in with her fists. "I'll bet you would've been a mighty fine Primeape," he assured her. "But if you're comfortable in your own skin I don't think it really matters what you coulda been or what you plan on doing. Anyone could do anything if they set their mind to it... though, granted, probably not as well as some who'd been born with a more matching totem. I mean, I'd have a hard time getting my fat carcass to fly without wings or somethin' similar!"

Scratching Martin behind the ears, the Roserade smiled over at Elis, brow quirked. Her confidence didn't seem to need too much of a boost, and she was determined as all hell to keep trying. But he felt he had to offer up a bit of hard-earned advice just the same. "I wish you luck. But don't let yourself end up tryin' to prove something to everyone around you who keeps telling you ya can't do something."

Pausing for a moment to let her digest that, Peter continued, "Anyway. Anything else I can provide you with in my humble abode before you have to run off into the sunset, hair flowing in the breeze?" He winked teasingly.

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis laughed as an image of Peter trying to fly without wings popped into her head. "I suppose that would be rather difficult," she admitted with another small giggle. She listened as he continued talking, frowning a bit when he gave her his advice. Wasn't that the opposite of that she was supposed to do? Wasn't that the whole idea, to finally prove to everyone that she could do it? Elis supposed that he meant it in a friendly way, so she chose not to take it personally.

When Peter asked her if there was anything she needed, she couldn't help but laugh at the way he phrased it. "There isn't much for the wind to blow," she replied with a grin. Suddenly a thought struck her. "Actually I do have a request. A friend of mine just got married recently, and I wanted to give them some flowers. Any ideas?"

PickeBicke:

Peter leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. A wedding gift, huh? He ran over a mental list of his own shop's flowers and grimaced. Nothing really fit what she would be looking for if she were going for meaning behind the blooms. But, well...he could put in a small order for a couple stalks of peach blossoms. Selling the bouquet would help negate that cost.

"You could go with some peach blossoms to start," the Roserade began. "I don't have any in my shop but if you want I can put in a small order and they'll be here within two days. They mean bridal hope, longevity, and generosity. I think every couple hopes that their relationship will be long-lasting and fruitful." He winked. "Not to mention you're generous for getting them something after the wedding, too."

He held up a hand, ticking off flowers as he went. "I got some ivy to drape over the sides, should make it look nice, plus it's got the added bonus of meaning wedded love and friendship all mixed in one! And if you don't mind a mix of pink, red, and yellow flowers we can add some of the latter two colors as roses to mean joy, happiness, and excitement." Peter paused and looked at Elis, tilting his head. "I assume you are happy for your friend's marriage or you wouldn't be getting him a gift."

At least he wouldn't have to splurge for roses. Those buggers were already expensive enough. With a smile, Peter finished, "What do you think? I can have it ready for you in two days. Either wrapped or in a glass jar with some plant food for the journey."

DeathByStrawberry:

Elis listened to Peter list off the different flowers and the meanings behind them. She couldn't quite keep up with all of them but he definitely sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "That sounds amazing; she’ll love it for sure." And it was true; Kumo had always loved flowers, ever since they were kids. Elis could never quite understand why, but then again Elis had always been the rambunctious one. Wherever she went, trouble lay in her wake. To her, flowers were boring. But Kumo liked them so she learned to like them as well.

Elis was so wrapped up in the memories that she barely realized he had asked her a question. Her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Uhhh, wrapped I guess. If it were glass I'd probably break it by the time I got home." She laughed a little. "So yeah, definitely wrapped!"

She stood and stretched. "It's probably time for me to be heading back though." She gave him a grin. "I guess I'll be seeing you in two days. But hey, next time you're in Rapture Retreat, stop by. I'll treat you to another meal!"

PickeBicke:

Peter nodded, already mentally planning the order and telling himself to make some post its to remind himself to put the bouquet in a tissue wrap instead of a vase. Maybe in a nice pale cream, with a red bow... or would pink work better? Eh, he'd decide on it later.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as she got up, ready to leave. "Yeah, sorry for keepin' you here so long, cooking and doin' all my dishes. Though I really did appreciate the meal." He smiled, running a hand through his curls. "I'll make sure to have those flowers wrapped nicely for your friend. And I'll throw in a free card for ya to write whatever you want to them as well, as a thank you for feeding my sorry behind."

And listening to all my problems, he thought as he lead her to the door. Smiling at the thought of dropping by her business for more food, he waved as she started back down his drive. "Will do. I'll try not to eat you out of house and home, either. Take care!" He watched until he was sure she'd made it safely down the street, until his view of her was obstructed by trees and other buildings.

"Well, how 'bout that?" Peter chuckled to Mallow and Martin as they each wound around his legs. "Think I actually managed to make nice with someone for a change." Pleased with how the day had turned out, the Roserade went back inside the house to see about calling in that order of peach blossoms.

END