They’re deciding what to do with you, Atlas said.
It had been a couple days and, according to him, whatever it was Juniper and Hilda wanted had not shown. They wanted him to fly—and he could not. They spoke of psychic abilities, but he had no concept of those no matter how often they were explained to him.
Aeimlou: “Uh… should I be worried right now? Since I’m not sure if I like the implication of them ‘deciding what to do with me’.”
This all made sense once he realised that they did not, either. Though that begged why they would attempt to explain something they did not know to him. Atlas said it was a human thing. The reuniclus (which was a very fun thing Atlas called himself) had taken on the mantle of teacher because of of his partners’ frustration.
Small typo there. Though huh. So Pokémon don’t perceive themselves as being named what humans name them. I suppose that’s a sign that animesque Pokémon speak is not a thing in this setting.
On the second day, someone had decided Aeimlou deserved some fresh air. They took him out, redundantly laid a soft fabric over soft grass in the shade of forest at the back of their nest, and he ate of from the berries and meats they brought him. The humans sat on their own, chattering in the background.
Hilda also brought five new creatures. None stayed beside Atlas. They gave a slit-eyed glance, a huff of steam, a shake of the leaves spooling from their spine, a dry hiss, a clip of the blades, a dip of whiskers. Then they fled to do their own thing in the forest, leaving Aeimlou open-mouthed and blinking as he dragged himself around the grass.
I’m… not fully sure who the rest of Hilda’s team is from this description other than that she
probably has a Samurott. Unless the idea is very deliberately that Aeimlou didn’t really keep track of Hilda’s team, it might make sense to be less sparing here, especially since it’ll potentially help save time introducing these five later on.
They’re quite independent, Atlas’s sound echoed in Aeimlou’s mind, As am I. It’s as if Hilda went out of her way to seek us, specifically, from our homes.
I can’t tell if that’s a good, or a really,
really worrisome thing that Atlas brought up there.
Atlas attempted to mime something, the mass of his gel shifting into odd shapes as he floated around Aeimlou’s head. His massive arms gestured, but to what nobody could be certain. If he wanted a response, he did not wait.
Huh, so Reuniclus can arbitrarily reshape its protoplasm or whatever the green stuff that makes up its “body” is in this fic. Duly noted.
Then the lesson started. It did not stop starting for a good while—long enough to watch the shadows stretch and the humans grow silent.
So, supposedly, his psychic abilities were was a physical force accessed metaphysically, which connected to his mind which was in his skull and. It was enabled by the precise assemblage of biology and abstracts unique to his current species, yet also shared by every other psychic species. With this thing that was real but not real, he could fly. And communicate. And levitate objects. And perform illusions.
Truly complete nonsense.
I can already tell that Aeimlou is going to have quite the
reaction whenever he ultimately figures out how to into his psychic abilities. Since they’re
very real, even if he hasn’t figured out how to use them, yet.
I do not understand, Aeimlou expressed after ages of frustrating back-and-forth. He moved on to glaring into the distance, at the wildflowers growing from the roots of Juniper’s nest and the deep pink wrinkles under the flower petals. Their connection had been somewhat tainted: strained to the point where each thought sent it vibrating, the noise squealing and burying their talk.
Huh. So mental links among Psychic-types require energy to maintain and they’ll eventually wear out? Definitely seems like a handy way of balancing things there.
Meanwhile, Juniper and Hilda had taken to watching their mood flatten. Hilda, in particular with a sly grin on her face.
You could at least express it differently, Atlas said, patience plainly turning to threads much as Aeimlou used to turn bits of refuse to threads with tugs of his beak, Perhaps: ‘could you repeat that?’ or ‘give me some time to think on this’ would add some variety to this nightmare.
I am trying to be clear. I would like to learn this quickly, and I would not like you to repeat it, rather to repeat it better.
Atlas: “*Good gods, Hilda, just how much longer do we have to
do this?*”
Atlas bubbled. You’re frustrating. He tilted himself to catch some encouragement from Hilda. Then took great effort to settle his bubble into a simmer. This connection we share is psychic in nature, so describe to me what you think it is.
An interesting question. Novel, too, thankfully. For him, it felt like a very direct line of communication. While he couldn’t actually speak the way humans did, and by Atlas’ explanation the reuniclus had no means of speaking at all, they had something very intimate here.
Is it an expression of intent? Of motive or emotion?
I mean, that’s not
that far off, Aeimlou…
Atlas attempted to clap his hands together, but they sank into each other with an unsatisfying gurgle. He sent something warm and smooth, soothing after ages of friction. Aeimlou cooed, revelling in it also.
Excellent! I’d call that progress. Intent is a concise way to facilitate your psychic abilities.
So I simply intent to fly and I will fly?
Not precisely.
And back to the frustration.
I’m getting flashbacks of the sequence from Raimi Spiderman when Peter Parker tries to figure out how to shoot out webbing consistently for the first time.
They did not stop as food was brought to them, nor as clouds hid the sun, nor as Atlas’ friends returned, the humans attempted to usher them inside and were roundly ignored. Although talk of psychic abilities became tired in the way it ground them against each other.
They moved on to each other.
Aeimlou enjoyed this. More than anything in his life, perhaps even more than the scavenging—finding something dead and stripping it to its skeleton with the help of his flock. This felt like so much more. Every sentence felt complex and layered and Atlas quickly revealed himself to be quite interesting beyond appearance and species name.
Oh, so Aeimlou
is growing past being that little Murkrow he used to be, if not quite in terms of practical battling abilities just yet.
He had, for instance, a truly bizarre relation to Hilda. Partners, yet not. It had alarming shades close to thier previous conversation. Still, the puzzle here had a lifetime of stories behind it. And Aeimlou gladly listened.
Huh, I wonder if this is building towards Aeimlou getting trained by Hilda… unless if he’s just going to ultimately become Benga’s Black 2 Latios with a dye job.
I do not think I have been to Nimbasa, Aeimlou said after hearing of Atlas’ birth and life in the forest outside Nimbasa. Division, he called it. He had a fascinating lineage of memory—foggy ideas he’d taken from the parent he split from. He’d lived communally, which Aeimlou found solace in.
Oh, so Solosis line ‘mons reproduce by mitosis. I suppose that
is fitting given that they’re more or less giant, macro-sized cells.
If you follow the river from the sea, it’s directly beyond the desert.
Aeimlou hummed, imagining the path, the streaks of water below him, gleaming gray towers piercing from the ground and spiralling through the clouds. He passed them, passed beyond a beige landscape he’d rarely stopped at for want of food. Landed in a forest. Remembered creatures similar to Atlas—small and round and clustered together between the branches like berries ripe for plucking. If only they weren’t larger than him.
Oh, so Aeimlou used to make:
faces everytime he’d see the Solosis in Pinwheel Forest, huh?
Perhaps we have seen each other. I remember flying through there.
Flying? I thought you couldn’t.
This body is new to me. I could, once.
Aiemlou looked out. Ravens lived everywhere, so it was not surprising to find some perched not far away, teetering on the fence cutting them off from the front. The birds always kept them in sight. Strange to think he had been among them.
Whelp, time to find out if these are literal ravens or Murkrow.
You’re serious? Atlas asked, seeing how he focused on the birds. A raven?
Yes. Is that odd?
Whelp, literal ravens it is. I suppose I should’ve expected this given that in
Shepard Tones, you mention in passing that there are normal eels chilling around in that setting. Though duly noted for the implication of what the biosphere in this setting is like.
A mess of emotions came through, forceful as a slap. Aeimlou could only shake his head and try to reorient himself against them.
It explains a lot, I suppose, Atlas said.
Aeimlou: “Wait, just what is
that supposed to mean?”
Aeimlou looked up, trying to meet him at the eyes as he floated above. That face held nothing. One thing he’d learned about the reuniclus was his own stasis—unable to match the form of expression inherent in others, at least in a physical sense. That knowledge travelled with something tired and flat.
Oh, so Atlas’ “voice” sounds like a creepy monotone? Or at least I
think that’s what Aeimlou’s narration is meant to imply there.
I apologise.
It’s not your fault. You must have done something incredible to be chosen like that.
He blinked. He had not even considered his ascension a result of action. He knew it had nothing to do with growth as he’d seen others in his flock age and die, but he’d imagined it as something more random. Another disease or attack.
Aeimlou: “No, I… just kinda woke up like this.” ^^;
- Beat moment -
Aeimlou: “Wait a minute, ‘chosen like that’? You mean that this has
happened before?!”
And if he had done something incredible, he did not remember. He did not understand.
But Atlas had grown tired of hearing that.
I suppose, he said
Atlas accepted that with a warm pulse of energy.
And helped him inside after.
I now have the mental image of a grayscale Latios just hanging in midair unceremoniously while being floated indoors. o<o
Aeimlou watched plans come and go, distantly. Juniper talked. Mostly to Hilda, but to anyone else who would talk, too, even Aeimlou, despite him having no thoughts on the future.
He had known that spiky feeling for a while, migrating from the others to him to a degree he had difficulty expressing. Only then did he find a name for it:
Annoyance.
Huh, that makes me wonder if Aeimlou used to be
sapient before becoming a Latios, since he seems to have trouble articulating a lot of concepts that we take for granted such as how to refer to emotional states.
He missed flying. It seemed petty, but he found himself thinking about small things in between larger thoughts—he did not appear to be made for prolonged grounding. His belly itched as he lay on the floor for another hour. Not even the softer bedding helped, and he could not lie on his back with fins like his. He missed the wind, cloistered as he was in Juniper’s nest, and the free range and watching the stronger creatures shrink until they could not reach him.
He missed preening, his feathers already matted in oil and dirt, skewed out awkwardly and itching also. But he could not reach them. Not until he had his psychic. Juniper, especially, tried to help, but her knowledge did not extend that far and he did not let her after one clumsy attempt.
She did something like stroke Aeimlou’s lower back or belly or something? Since if Latios have similar nerve distributions to birds, that would get
really awkward really fast for Aeimlou, since those are erogenous zones among many bird species.
Atlas tried, too. Without much success, but his gel fingers were cool and pleasant and drew light coos from Eimlou as they fumbled over his back. They lay outside, then—out in the grass and beating sun. Atlas also spared some power to levitate him in some approximation of flight at his own suggestion.
He held some guilt at irritating the others, because it did not feel good. Their conversations drifted around him, and their time wore away and their eyebrows sank as he asked for further explanations. They found reasons to leave him alone more often.
Atlas had no such qualms. Even through discomfort.
I’m guessing it’s because they’re both Psychic-types? Since I’m admittedly not sure why Atlas in particular is feeling so much more invested in Aeimlou versus the rest of Hilda’s team.
They sat on the lab’s open upstairs one day, overlooking the human children and pokemon children meeting each other for the first time. A starter ceremony, according to Juniper. She’d allowed him to watch. The children also watched him as they came in, arms curled up to their chests, wide eyes open and sparkling.
Huh,
that must’ve been a sight to behold for those kiddos. Though neat little bit of worldbuilding there for how starter distribution works in this setting.
She snapped her fingers at them as their attention wavered, but he did not mind. In fact, she began snapping her fingers at him once he started chirping and whistling to draw their attention while she bored them.
So the human children become mothers? He asked, after a while of watching.
Atlas shook, fully. Aeimlou had allowed him to perch between his fins, so he felt the motion even though he could not see.
Can’t tell if that’s from
or
from Atlas there. Maybe both.
I would not describe them like that.
But they rear the chicks.
Their connection dipped. A coldness crept in—as it did when Juniper left the lab window open one night. They train them. They are too young to be mothers.
Aeimlou: “They could be adoptive mothers?”
Atlas: “Aeimlou, they’re not mothers, okay?” >_>;
Perhaps I do not understand the difference. Where are the mothers, then? Would they not be a better option?
They breed them, giving them up to humans for the children to train.
That is not an answer.
Well
that could get really awkward really fast. Though I suppose that there’s a story to be had about Pokémon whose purpose in life is making babies repeatedly to yeet out into the wider world for weird naked apes to chill with.
The coldness only intensified, frost lurking between thoughts. Two gelatinous fists gripped his fins tighter until they sent cold shocks down his spine. Aiemlou let out a dull whine and got an apology in return.
Yes. They would.
I think that it might make sense to expand Atlas’ answer a bit to add some context. I
assume that it’s a response to the “Wouldn’t the mothers be a better option?” question, but it’s not fully clear at the moment.
Aiemlou allowed some silence after that, not trusting the connection. He watched young creatures scamper and scrap below, weak bursts of elements meeting each other, skipping across the gleaming white floors.
He did not understand how the children were not mothers. Not as they held a soft blue head close to their own, or wrangled stray vines and expressed so much purpose as if to glow.
Aeimlou: “Since just saying, they really,
really seem like adoptive mothers right now.” >_>;
But Atlas got warmer not long after. He sank onto Aeimou’s back with a deep gurgle and tried, once again, to sort out his feathers. Not successfully. Again. But Aeimlou ducked his head and closed his eyes and let him.
They try their best, I suppose.
Atlas would not say who they were.
Aeimlou: “Why on earth is your way of life this confusing anyways?”
Atlas had an unexpected physicality to him. He liked to be close, liked to touch more and more as the days passed by. Aiemlou could not say what exactly had changed, but the reuniclus slept across from him now, out of his ball, on another spare bed pushed up against the wall. He glowed green in dim light and their connection thrummed in sleep also, beating with waves from the other’s dream.
Aiemlou did not sleep those nights. He watched the ebb and flow of an unconscious body, hearing an ocean reflected in his mind.
Wait… is Atlas developing a
crush on Aeimlou? Since I’m kinda starting to get that vibe with how much time he spends with him and how close they’ve been getting.
The humans had come to some sort of decision by morning. Their reserved chatter died down and they instead orbited around each other in the lab, though whether in satisfaction or disappointment Aiemlou could not tell.
According to Atlas, Hilda could not stay much longer. They would be leaving later. The thought of Atlas departing put Aiemlou in a strange sort of mood—starved, almost, picking through the underbrush for scraps and longing for something greater.
Oh, so it’s not just
Atlas who was potentially developing feelings between those two… maybe. Can’t
fully tell if that was the intended undertone or not.
Thankfully, Aeimlou came to a solution of his own.
Constant practise with Atlas had not borne fruit as easily as he wished, but he had grown the capability to prod. From across a space, a room, a field, even through walls, Aeimlou could turn his burgeoning psychic abilities into something blunt and use it to touch others.
They found it annoying, mostly. Especially on initial discovery, when he abused it, focused it hundreds of times and watched Hilda itch at an invisible sensation while she twirled a fork over her breakfast. She found out quickly. And stomped over to him with a sour pout. And threatened to tape his muzzle shut if he didn’t stop. Not that it could stop him. Which she found out not long after.
Oh, so Aeimlou
did get his muzzle taped shut at least once?
That must’ve hurt to undo since that almost certainly pulled feathers out along the way. ^^;
Well, Juniper rescued him eventually, hands full of clippers and a few choice words for Hilda. Atlas found it amusing, at least.
Well, until the tape had to be undone, anyways. That just sounds more painful.
Previous experience helped in executing a plan. It only took one prod for Hilda to sigh, pick up a roll of tape and march back over, crouching to stare him directly in the eyes and tilting her head in a way that was decidedly not playful.
“Well?” she said, “Don’t make me do it again.”
Aeimlou chirped, snapping his claws together the same way he’d seen her do when someone else had been talking to her. She squinted, then her mouth widened.
Wait, Latios claws can
do that?
“What, you need to talk?”
He nodded.
“Atlas is outside for a sec. I guess I’ll just… hang around. Play the waiting game on your new best friend.”
Oh. I just realized, if Hilda is about to leave and Atlas is logically going along with her…
Aeimlou blinked. He was not sure how to treat Hilda in the best of times. But she seemed to take his confusion some other way, waggling a stray finger over his snout.
“Eh, c’mon. The only person he talks to that much is me, and I took two years to get that far.”
Oh. Well, that made him feel quite special. He smiled at her and let out a light coo.
Aeimlou: “... Is that a ‘maybe’ there?” ^^;
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t feel too bad or anything.”
Lucky Hilda didn’t seem to have much to do, because the waiting led on for quite a while, watching Juniper pass through occasionally and shoot them stray glances. She brought food, at least, a tray of vegetables for them to share. And sat silently for a while sharing unseen words with Hilda. Aiemlou had no concern for them. He simply watched the door until Atlas’ telltale green mass floated through and he met the reuniclus with a quick chirp. The other was eager to connect, and it only took light prodding to bring Hilda into the fold. Juniper, too—simply for her presence, he supposed.
“So whatcha need?”
Do you remember those children who picked up their starters?
“Do I remember something that happened yesterday? I dunno…”
Well, in case you need a reminder—
That… might not have been the best timing there, Aeimlou, since I’m pretty sure that that conversation between Hilda and Juniper isn’t going to be
totally irrelevant.
A quick sharpness cut him off. Irritation. Yes. And a brief scan of his companions’ faces convinced him he would not have to elaborate.
Alright. In any case, I would like to be Atlas’ starter.
Atlas:
Aeimlou: “Wait, but that should be perfectly feasible, right?” ^^;
Perhaps he should have kept the conversation more insulated, because the wave of conflicting thought that hit him sent him reeling. Outside his head, the reactions were not much more reassuring.
Juniper blinked. “Excuse me?”
And Atlas sank noticeably in the air, his distinct signature vibrating between a chaotic buzz and a touching warmth.
That’s absurd, he whispered.
Aeimlou: “*Wh-What are you talking about? If those human chicks could be ‘trainers’, you can too, Atlas! Why are you reacting like this?*”
“What the fuck?” Hilda coughed around a carrot she’d been chewing, thumping her chest. “Yeah. Absurd. I don’t even know—Juniper set you up to this didn’t she?”
Now Juniper was blinking at her, instead.
And Atlas felt very prickly for some reason.
Atlas: “*Oh boy, where do I even
start here…?*”
“No, believe it or not I didn’t tell a grounded legendary to be your pokemon’s starter pokemon.”
“Well who the fuck else could’ve given him that idea? He’s—” she gestured to him, palms out. “Y’know.”
That prickliness sharpened itself on her words.
Whelp, I suppose I’ll take the under on Aeimlou joining-
I think it’s a fine idea. I see no problems with it, Atlas shot back, voice echoing with a certain airiness. He floated over the table—giving Hilda a long stare before plopping himself down beside Aeimlou, one arm draped over his back. He could learn much from me. He already has.
Well,
nevermind then.
“You’re only saying that to be difficult!”
Perhaps. And there’s no reason why not.
Wait, but would your region’s legal structure even
allow you to be a trainer, Atlas? .-.
And as Hilda spluttered and Juniper leaned in with open palms, Aeimlou suspected the conversation had quickly left his territory. Perhaps he would simply set his chin down and watch.
They seemed happy enough to ignore him, besides.
“Oh, come on! There has to be some league shit that prevents it.”
Everyone turned to Juniper, who rubbed the bridge of her nose with a tired sigh.
“They reserve the right to remove trainer status from anyone for any reason, but there are no pokemon-specific regulations regarding training or trainer privileges.” She tried to set a hand on HIlda’s but it was quickly brushed off. “I don’t see why you’re so opposed to this, he’d essentially be de-facto your pokemon.”
Hilda: “Because I’m supposed to be trying to track down N right now and
not perpetually babysitting a grounded jet-dragon?” >_>;
“Oh, yeah. No problem, then!”
“Hilda—”
“Nah. No, we’re not doing this. What have I been saying for years. To both of you idiots. I’m done with it—if I never have to train a pokemon from zero to hero again, I’ll be happy. This is at least a couple steps beyond that.”
Sounds like Hilda’s journey in this continuity must’ve been quite the saga given that she’s sworn off expanding her team beyond her present six members. Makes me wonder how much of a handful they are even in the present day.
The silence that followed meant nothing to Aeimlou. It had an air of finality to it, but searching between people or trailing stray bits of dust floating around the room revealed nothing. He let it sit for a while, all the while wondering if he should interject.
Finally, Juniper sighed and touched a hand to her head and tucked wild strands of fur behind her ear.
“I haven’t put anyone up to anything. You’re right, I would have asked anyways, but that’s because I trust you.”
[ ]
“I guess I can’t refuse, then.”
Wait, Aeimlou’s
actually going to be going around with Hilda with Atlas as his “trainer”?
“Of course not—you can always say no.”
But Hilda had this odd twist to her expression as she sharpened her teeth on another carrot. She seemed cornered, knees drawing to her chest in the folds of the couch. Atlas’s hand grew unsteady over Aiemlou’s back, wobbling in a way he couldn’t ascertain.
Hilda, he said, please. It’s alright.
But she did not have much for him except a glare.
Atlas: “*Also, this story
would get really boring if it was just set around Juniper’s lab for forever, so…*” ^^;
Juniper cleared her throat. “It’s a lot of responsibility, I know. It’s not like I expect you to take him for free. I’ll fund it.”
“Oh, well, what excuse do I have?”
“Hilda—”
“I don't know what to tell you, Juniper.” She scowled, raising an angry finger. “It doesn’t piss me off that you asked, but I hate you pretending there was ever a chance I’d say no. You know me.”
I mean, that kinda sounds like a ‘you’ problem there, Hilda. >:V
Juniper bit her lip, nodding distantly.
“And you know I’m just gonna do it.”
She nodded again, slower this time.
Whelp, that’s
one way to get Aeimlou out into the broader world. Though I wonder if this is happening before or
after Hilda wrapped up her whole saga trying to find wherever N flew off to with the Tao he teamed up with.
And with that, the room was hers, buried under an unspoken purpose. It struck an interesting figure over their connection, partly because of how outside Aeimlou was from it. He had no connection to these stories so he allowed himself to sit back, to watch and feel while Atlas and Juniper sent out things that hesitated, bounced back halfway between them, or shuddered and wilted like fall grasses.
“You’ve got me in a ranting mood.” Hilda stood, brushed crumbs off her legs and looked down on them. “ All this taking advantage; It fucks me up that whenever I take a job, everyone acts so surprised that they need to pay me; like I should be rich by birthright, like saving their asses got me anything.” She sniped, arguing with some invisible creature. “But it’s not like they paid me, or helped, or did anything—they just sat on the couch and waited for someone to clean up their shit.”
Okay, yeah. Hilda is officially the B1W1 Champion in this continuity. Though I suppose those feelings of resentment would explain a lot about how she just bounced from the region to go and try and track down N sometime before and through the events of B2W2.
She paused, took a breath, a fire lit in her eyes that Aeimlou only then realised had been there the whole time.
“Sometimes I wish I would’ve let team plasma win, just to see the look on their fucking faces. Life stops kissing their boots, handing them shit and they probably curl up and die.”
Juniper did not react, but Aeimlou could feel the tension. “You don't mean that,” she said.
Yeeeeeah, Hilda’s life has
really had some problems since B1W1, I can already tell. Not that essentially putting your life on pause in the middle of junior high and globetrotting
wouldn’t be a really,
really easy way to put yourself behind the 8-ball in terms of life progression.
And allowed the moment to sit. Although whether Hilda relented because she truly meant it, or because Juniper looked up at her with sad eyes, Aeimlou could not tell.
“No. You’re right,” she said. A sigh broke her facade. “I would’ve given up fucking everything and been turned into some dumbass statue that kids take field trips to for bothering. So congratulations, everybody. You’re getting your way. At my expense. The fuck else is new?”
I… take it that Juniper probably should’ve been a
wee bit more supportive of Hilda in the aftermath of B1W1. Even if I’m curious as to what the full story behind her in this story is and if it’ll be addressed in future chapters.
And although the others wilted further, Aeimlou felt quite pleased. He let out a quiet chirp and bobbed his head soldily. Just for himself. For a moment, Hilda stared and seemed as if she would break out the tape again, but she only sighed and put her attention on Atlas, who had recovered enough to lean into Aeimlou again.
I won’t apologise for expressing my opinion.
Aeimlou: “*So… I
am coming with you all, right?*”
“Didn’t expect you to. Won’t let you trip up, though, you’re in charge of him. Just don’t be a hypocrite, Atlas.”
She ended with a quirk of the brow. He ended with a simmer, a faint hint of disappointment that Aeimlou felt through the cold touch of his gel. He felt that coldness also as Hilda turned to him with a snap of the fingers.
“And you. You little shit, I know your type.”
Psychic, as I have been told.
Hilda: “Yeah, I’m going to wind up really,
really regretting to agreeing to putting up with this crap, I can already tell.”
“Very funny. I’m not letting you poke the ursaring and run away. If you start pushing me, there will be consequences, understand?”
For a moment, Aeimlou considered testing the order, sending another prod her way and watching the ensuing punishment. But Atlas seemed to sense those intentions not long after they sprouted. Don’t, he warned. So Aeimlou did not. He simply nodded instead.
Aeimlou: “*I mean, isn’t the worst she can do just to send me back here?*” ^^;
Atlas: “*Yeah, which
we won’t be coming back for, just saying.*” >_>;
And although Hilda nodded back, she did not smile.
“Great. Welcome to the team. Well, Atlas’ team, I guess, since he’s offering to take care of you. And I’m holding him to it. Good luck, idiots.”
Off she went, not sparing a glance behind her as she stomped out the door. She only returned at nightfall. Hours after they were supposed to leave.
Instead, they left the next morning.
I mean, at least it’s better than getting stuck with Benga? Though
that doesn’t seem like an auspicious start there. ^^;
