norway
a white butterfly
elsie . morning . lumiose
”...Professor, you seem to have given me the wrong directions.”
“What do you mean? I said make a left as soon as you enter the city gates.”
“...Hm, was it an immediate left... or... because now I’m at the prism tower...”
“Oh, Elsie...”
Sycamores defeated voice poured in through the speaker of her transceiver phone, while elsie stared blankly at the towering iconic city architecture, a building that meant as little to her as all the other buildings, honestly she didn’t even know their significance. She noticed a lot of people ooohd and ahhhhhhd but she didn’t find it particularly appealing, except maybe that it provided good shade from the sun above the city. elsie never was one for history.
“Excuse me miss, I’m trying to get a picture of my family!”
“...mm? Oh, that’s nice. But why are you telling me?” elsie wondered, giving the family man a look as if he were odd, not acknowledging she was blocking his entire camera view by standing idly. Eventually she moved, but not out of courtesy more from boredom.
Moments later, her phone rang again. Maybe it had been ringing, but she didn’t even remember hanging up the call.
“Elsie? It’s sycamore. I’ve sent a researcher to escort you back to the lab, I wouldn’t want you getting lost.”
“You're too kind, Mr. More.”
“Actually I... just don’t want you getting lost again,” the Professor murmured, but looked at his phone to find the call had disconnected again. He sighed from within his air conditioned laboratory, hanging his coat over his chair while he finished inputting information on the approaching trinity of trainers he had approved of. He had planned simply on inviting them in and getting them registered, along with a few individuals who just needed a trainers license although they did not want to pursue the league, at least not at this time. Naturally, things changed — he lived a fast paced life and was one of the center authority figures of the country somehow and with that, came a constant responsibility to groom trainers to make aiding the region a top priority.
Latest in his emergency contacts would be bug enthusiast and hobby happy photographer Viola, whose email dinged to life on his monitor. As he multitasked, he slowly shifted his full attention to the exclamation points littered in the mix of French and attempts at English. Apparently there was trouble in Santalune, something along the lines of an insect related spreading illness which set off alarm bells in his head immediately. The environment, the food chain, spreading illnesses beyond bugs and why were the bugs being targeted — he had to know, but could not just leave his office on pure curiosity all the time.
Lucky for him, he had some new faces eager for adventure on the way — well, if they could make it safely.
He was at his desk, clad in a fitted indigo top accessorized with a pricey black wrist watch, when his front doors slid open and revealed the researcher he had sent out to retrieve elsie, huffing and puffing, followed by a blank faced blond who simply walked inside, and sat down on a chair with wheels.
“Elsie I’m... glad you could make it, I’m...” The Professor reached out his hand, but the blonde was in her third spin on the chair before she stopped abruptly, and fist bumped him. He seemed surprised, she did not.
“Hi, Mr. Sycamore,” she responded, eyes flickering around his office space. He could not tell if she was observant, or bored. “thanks for sending the escort, he was nice.”
Sycamore grimaced at the sight of his researcher, who clutched his chest and the door and sucked in another breath before trying to compose himself. “Please tell me the other kids you chose aren’t going to make me reconsider my life. I chose office work for a reason,” the poor thirty something year old grimed, “I’m not a vulpix, I don’t have nine lives!”
“What happened?” The professor inquired, to which the researcher shook a finger at him and exclaimed never again! Never, again! and angrily slid away.
“where are the others?” Elsie inquired absently.
“On their way. In the meantime, why don’t you show me how that froakie I sent you is doing...”
“well, I can. But he doesn’t do much.,” she shrugged, and patted her pokeball where the little frog would emerge, and blow a bored bubble in response to being let out.
“What do you mean? I said make a left as soon as you enter the city gates.”
“...Hm, was it an immediate left... or... because now I’m at the prism tower...”
“Oh, Elsie...”
Sycamores defeated voice poured in through the speaker of her transceiver phone, while elsie stared blankly at the towering iconic city architecture, a building that meant as little to her as all the other buildings, honestly she didn’t even know their significance. She noticed a lot of people ooohd and ahhhhhhd but she didn’t find it particularly appealing, except maybe that it provided good shade from the sun above the city. elsie never was one for history.
“Excuse me miss, I’m trying to get a picture of my family!”
“...mm? Oh, that’s nice. But why are you telling me?” elsie wondered, giving the family man a look as if he were odd, not acknowledging she was blocking his entire camera view by standing idly. Eventually she moved, but not out of courtesy more from boredom.
Moments later, her phone rang again. Maybe it had been ringing, but she didn’t even remember hanging up the call.
“Elsie? It’s sycamore. I’ve sent a researcher to escort you back to the lab, I wouldn’t want you getting lost.”
“You're too kind, Mr. More.”
“Actually I... just don’t want you getting lost again,” the Professor murmured, but looked at his phone to find the call had disconnected again. He sighed from within his air conditioned laboratory, hanging his coat over his chair while he finished inputting information on the approaching trinity of trainers he had approved of. He had planned simply on inviting them in and getting them registered, along with a few individuals who just needed a trainers license although they did not want to pursue the league, at least not at this time. Naturally, things changed — he lived a fast paced life and was one of the center authority figures of the country somehow and with that, came a constant responsibility to groom trainers to make aiding the region a top priority.
Latest in his emergency contacts would be bug enthusiast and hobby happy photographer Viola, whose email dinged to life on his monitor. As he multitasked, he slowly shifted his full attention to the exclamation points littered in the mix of French and attempts at English. Apparently there was trouble in Santalune, something along the lines of an insect related spreading illness which set off alarm bells in his head immediately. The environment, the food chain, spreading illnesses beyond bugs and why were the bugs being targeted — he had to know, but could not just leave his office on pure curiosity all the time.
Lucky for him, he had some new faces eager for adventure on the way — well, if they could make it safely.
He was at his desk, clad in a fitted indigo top accessorized with a pricey black wrist watch, when his front doors slid open and revealed the researcher he had sent out to retrieve elsie, huffing and puffing, followed by a blank faced blond who simply walked inside, and sat down on a chair with wheels.
“Elsie I’m... glad you could make it, I’m...” The Professor reached out his hand, but the blonde was in her third spin on the chair before she stopped abruptly, and fist bumped him. He seemed surprised, she did not.
“Hi, Mr. Sycamore,” she responded, eyes flickering around his office space. He could not tell if she was observant, or bored. “thanks for sending the escort, he was nice.”
Sycamore grimaced at the sight of his researcher, who clutched his chest and the door and sucked in another breath before trying to compose himself. “Please tell me the other kids you chose aren’t going to make me reconsider my life. I chose office work for a reason,” the poor thirty something year old grimed, “I’m not a vulpix, I don’t have nine lives!”
“What happened?” The professor inquired, to which the researcher shook a finger at him and exclaimed never again! Never, again! and angrily slid away.
“where are the others?” Elsie inquired absently.
“On their way. In the meantime, why don’t you show me how that froakie I sent you is doing...”
“well, I can. But he doesn’t do much.,” she shrugged, and patted her pokeball where the little frog would emerge, and blow a bored bubble in response to being let out.
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