(Tulip)

  Messenngengar:

  Linh put away his phone and leaned back in the chair. By his side, Poppy stuffed her face with a sandwich, crumbs falling on the cafés table. Under the table a meat and bone platter was placed for Casket. And beside her, Riolu. Riolu was stealing Casket's food.

  They were in Alfornada, and vibe wise...

  Well, it's very obvious that it was a small but lively town that has boomed in popularity far too quick for the small town townees to leave. The heart of the town was composed of single floor flat-roof houses, blue paint outlining the smooth bricks. Tall smokestacks extended from these houses high into the air, and were dwarfed by the dense apartments and tall business offices. The kind that's advertisement laden. The town-bordering-city was changing, and changing fast.

  And... it's working well, given the number of people on the street. Especially as the figurehead is a home-grown talent. Linh mused, looking up at a great big billboard. It depicted a woman holding up a perfume bottle. Soft lilac colour scheme and butterfly motif. Tulip.

  Model and makeup artist, Gym Leader in her off-time. What little she has—the woman's not the only reason Alfornada's bloating with tourists, but she is the only reason Alfornada's shipping out so many beauty products. In between photo shoots Tulip's holding important calls and in between that Tulip's speaking to the press and in between that she's researching compounds for a new type of eye liner. A very busy life, Linh could never.

  The League Official at registration stated that Tulip had no openings today. "So, Poppy. Do you know Tulip well?"

  Poppy put down her oversized sandwich, a bit of sauce on her cheek. "Um... Not really. She doesn't drop by the office often." 'The office' referred to the main headquarters of the League, in Mesagoza. It was where Poppy went when she wanted to talk to the other Elite Four. "But she's really pretty!"

  "What a compliment to her personality." Linh teased. He tilted his cup where it rested, dregs of tea flowing. "Anything else?"

  Poppy frowned, and angrily crossed her arms, "No, cuz she doesn't talk to me! Not for long. She's always busy! She's never at work when I'm there!"

  'Work', in this case, referred to the League Headquarters. Where she went to bug the rest of the Elite Four.

  "Maybe she's avoiding you, using her psychic powers to foretell her arrival?

  Poppy blinked, sandwich halfway to her mouth, a bit of lettuce fell. "Tulips not psychic?"

  The table thumped, as if something doglike bumped against the table's foot. Both ignored it.

  "She's not?" Linh's face froze, and then he shook his head, "The butterflies?" He referred to the decorative butterfly ornaments around Tulip's person.

  "It's this super fancy, um." Poppy patted herself down and released her Tinkaton. "Tinkie? Hammer."

  Tinkie looked left then right curiously, and then proffered her hammer head. Poppy stuck her hand into a gap in its construction. Withdrawing a wire. She held it up. "See this? It's a special silver alloy. It gets all wriggly when near psychic stuff! Tulip says her butterflies are made with it!"

  "And since the Psychic Type Gym Leader's surrounded by Psychic Pokémon, the butterflies are always flapping."

  "Exactly!" Poppy smiled proudly.

  (This wasn't exactly true. The butterflies are attuned to flap with psychic energy. But Tulip is a psychic. Weak one, better suited to carrying grocery bags, or an array of fine brushes. But still psychic.)

  Poppy then gave the metal back to Tinkie. Tinkie put the wire back in her hammer without a grumble, and then looked under the table. Riolu just poked her in the ankle. Curious, she crawled underneath.

  The conversation died, Poppy went back to her sandwich. Linh took to people watching.

  Poppy ate the last of her sandwich in great big bites. The last chunk pushed into her mouth by a finger. And teeth breaking the crisp crunchy crust. Then she stared at Linh, hard thinking.

  "Um," she hesitated. "Can we meet Tulip now? I wanna ask her a question."

  "Just one?" Linh asked.

  "Yep!"

  "We do have the challenges tomorrow, not willing to wait until then?"

  "Nuh. That's too long! I'll forget by then!"

  Linh's gaze drifted away from the table, and drifted around the streets. His eyes alighted on a poster, ignored like all public posters are. "Well, according to that; Tulip's doing a fragrance launch today—some sorta giveaway promo thingy. It's going to start soon, and is pretty close. Wanna go over there now and see if we can talk to her?"

  "Tulip's going to do what?" Poppy said, dismayed. "But that's going to take alllll day! And the line moves soooo slow! There's no way we can get through!"

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  Linh could think of a few ways, but he was more interested in giving Casket a little test. "Why not?"

  "Because there will be people in the way? Anything she does in public is always crowded."

  "And do we know someone who can ignore crowds? Say, someone who can get underfoot, and pass through shadows?"

  Poppy looked down to Casket. She was using Shadow Sneak limbs to clumsily brush Tinkie's hair.

  "You get it. We write a note for Tulip. Casket carries it to Tulip, she reads, and comes meet us when she has the time."

  Poppy smiled at Linh. "Yeah, Yeah! That'll work!"

  "I sure hope so, given I thought of it." He found a sticky note and a pen in his pockets. And slid them across the table. "Why don't you write the note?"

  

  What is beauty?

  Is it a symmetrical face? Sometimes, an offset mole can be delightfully charming.

  Is it a thin, delicate frame? Sometimes, but a broad and thick set of shoulders can appeal too.

  'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'

  There are many beholders. So many, in fact, that it is said that there is a special someone for everyone. Love! That wonderful, maddening thing. Every creature need only find that one that finds them beautiful, and something miraculous can happen.

  Is it, then, possible that everybody is beautiful? Every face is handsome? In the right light, with the right angle, with the right affections? The mind must be a wonderful thing, to perceive others with so many differences, and see them all the same.

  Beautiful.

  Tulip wishes nothing more then to bring out the beauty in every form. Every man, woman, and otherwise.

  She does so with her sorcerous tools. The foundation, her wand. The brush, her staff. Every item a reagent; Her client, the ritual site.

  And she, or any who seek to do the same, cannot work with shoddy tools.

  Mascara that spoiled overnight, and melted and ran like tears.

  Greasy foundation, soaking into the pores and swelling the skin underneath with oil.

  Lipstick, patchy and cracking. Desiccants that peeled the lips open and let the toxins in.

  Lead! Lead! Tulip weeps for what her predecessors worked with.

  So she worked, works, will work to make the finest tools. Crazy blue eyeliner. Hair dyes vibrant. Ergonomic handles and cute portable kits. Then she markets them, shows them to the world and stamps her name proudly on them. So all know their worth.

  Tulip knows all this, so she stands proud as she speaks to her fans, and the press, and the photographers always in her wake. As she tells them of her products, of how they can highlight the clients beauty, bring to the fore their perfections.

  (Never say the make up makes one beautiful. Never say the make up will work. Match the product to the client, never the other way around.)

  Tulip's ambivalently positive about some of her work here. The first timers, the tourists, those who appreciate a touch up or enjoy new scents. They meet her, get dazzled, and ideally leave with greater appreciation of themselves. They bring a smile to Tulip's face.

  But the other half, that, that she adores. Her fans, her reoccurring fans. She knows their names and their faces.

  There is Harold, who fears he is overweight and so his wife's love will fade. He first came to Tulip in hopes it could be hidden somehow. This is false and also unrealistic, no highlight will hide a number on the scale. Instead, she taught him posture. So he could walk confident, and then be confident.

  Now when his wife says she loves him, Harold is happy.

  "Tulip!"

  "Harold, darling! Thank you for your time! Just set that over there—and there should be bottles out back, could you—? Yes thank you, you're a doll."

  Taylor, a regular. Shy girl, thought she's plain but its how she hid her legs that was the issue. A makeover to sharpen those cheekbones, a quick lesson on projecting authority, and she had all the boys she wanted eating out of her hand.

  Or perhaps she wanted girls? The way she stammers when Tulip gets close has little heterosexual explanation.

  Here she comes now, not joining the line, standing outside the crowd. She's waving, with someone on her arm. A—

  Oh, it was girls! How wonderful.

  Tulip waves back, grin reaching her eyes, and she turned to greet her next—

  Hm. Her shadows extending out, the next man (Alain? Was that Alain?) steps back. Tulip watches curiously as the shadow bulges, hand towards her Florges and—

  A Greavard? Small, so small she looks up no matter what.

  Hm.

  And what a beautiful Greavard she is—fur brushed smooth, fur brushed clean, no enhancers, no decorations. Just the Greavard's natural beauty, soft satin grey fur turning rose white at the tips. A candle dripping wax in clean trails, the light pure and focused.

  Splendid. Oh. Wonderful.

  And the note, tucked into the fur, placed over her nose. What a charming placement—she cannot see! Yet she wags her tail at Tulip still.

  "Oh, hello. Aren't you a doll?"

  Tulip kneels down. She picks the Greavard up in both hands, like a cherished pet. And up the dog went, paws in the air, dumb tongue out.

  She plucks the note from where it stuck (the dog's tail wagged harder, seeing Tulip) and read it. She recognised the looping, large childish letters, with the heart instead of a dot on the 'i', as Poppy's.

  Oh, was it that time already? Curious. Last year Poppy arrived much later into the season. Perhaps her 'assistant' is responsible? But no matter, she had the time.

  First, she must display this Greavard's beauty. Tulip turns to the side and angles them both towards the cameras. About forty five degrees. She brings her close to her chin, and kisses on the forehead. Like a pet for Christmas.

  Photo flashes. Her photographers and fans finding this as cute as she did. Splendid!

  "Pretty girl," Tulip tells the Greavard, "Stay a while, please. I'll bring you to your Trainer soon, just wait. And we shall treat you well while you wait?"

  The Greavard barked, agreeably.

  "Wonderful, now—Harold, come take her—escort her to the back tabl—wonderful. Thank you—who's next? Oh, Alain! I thought you'd never—"

  

  Tulip met Linh and Poppy with a puppy on her shoulder. Heels clacking against the pavement, steps swift but unhurried.

  Both Poppy and Linh were glad to see her. Linh, because he wasn't sure the note would work, and he had something he wanted to say to her outside of earshot of Poppy. And Poppy...

  "TULIP!!" Poppy waved her hands in the air. A hello so energetic it risked her toppling off of the retaining wall. Three things reached out to stabilise her. Linh, leaning against the wall. A vine from Menace, soaking in the sunlight atop the shrub. And Tinkie, laying tummy down on the raised dirt bed, fingers poking little holes in the dirt.

  ... Poppy just likes to meet people.

  "Hello!" Poppy continued.

  "Hello Poppy, it's nice to see you," Tulip said, "And hello, are you the one Geeta spoke to us about?"

  "I wasn't aware Champion Geeta said anything about me."

  "She did, to explain why we shouldn't be concerned about a man following Poppy around for an extended period."

  Linh took that in, and then, mortification. "Ah. Right."

  "But yes. She vouches for you. You are the Trainer for this Greavard?" Tulip lifted up Casket, and held her forwards.

  Casket looked down at the arms holding her, and then looked at Linh from the corner of her eyes.

  "Ah, yes. Thank you," Linh took Casket, turning her towards him—"Is she wearing nail polish? Uh, claw polish?"

  Where Casket was pawing at his arms, air-swimming, there were black shiny marks. Four blunt streaks of paint. Linh held up a paw for inspection. And there, sticking above the paw pads, black nails. Still a bit wet.

  "Oh, I simply could not resist, forgive me." Tulip hid her mouth, "Your Casket was a very polite girl, she did not mind me brushing her at all! I simply had to give her the full treatment."

  "Did you?" Linh brought Casket closer. "Did she?" Casket barked and panted, her teeth were clean and her breath was not as doggy as it was before. "She did! Look at you! You're cute now!"

  Tulip smiled, "I only brought out her inner beauty. Something you've done yourself very well. What's your grooming schedule?"

  Linh brought Casket to his chest, and turned her around. He pursed his lips, feeling like he's been complimented on something he had no idea he was doing. (He is.) "So. Once a day I brush her down until no more shedding. And if she's dirty or its been more then a week, a bath with what water's available."

  "Really, what brush?"

  "Uh, metal? Casket found it somewhere, I didn't ask where."

  Tulip flustered, "Oh, I, um. You don't trim her fur? You don't—"

  "Um. Miss Tulip? Can I ask you a question?"

  "That's nice Poppy." Tulip said, then she rounded back to Linh. He stood there awkwardly.

  "But, surely you apply something? What shampoo did you use, to get these tips so rose-white!" Tulip lifted up some fur, and rolled it in between her fingers. The fur looked bone white to Linh. Chalky.

  "... Discount store brand? I'm actually running low—probably should get more..."

  "That won't do at all!" Tulip scowled, and dug around her purse. "Hold on, I have a sample here somewhere..."

  Linh looked to Poppy, face starting to turn angry. He set Casket down on the planting box and she immediately started sniffing the dirt. "Hm. You know we asked this meeting because Poppy had a question. You know?"

  Tulip blinked, glanced at Poppy then acknowledged her properly. She crouched down a bit to be eye level. "Oh, I'm sorry Poppy. I just get distracted, see? What was your question?"

  Poppy glared harder at her, then started to ask. "I wanted to..."

  She looked down. "I wanted to..."

  She looked up. "I forgot!"

  Tulip sighed. "That's okay. Maybe you'll remember it if you retraced your steps?"

  "Maybe it was about Tulip's Ralts?" Linh commented.

  "Um..." Poppy sucked her thumb, deep in thought.

  "Ralts?"

  Linh gestured to Tulip, "That's actually why we're here early, this is our first badge, not the usual seventh. Poppy said you hatched a new Ralts recently and she wanted to fight them."

  Tulip's gaze softened, and she smiled. "You remembered?"

  Poppy didn't react, she was still looking down, curled up. Thinking so hard it was almost like they could hear the gears spinning. Tinkie rolled her eyes, poked Poppy until she turned, then said something.

  "OH! It was about Ralts!"

  Tulip nodded, "Yes? What about Ralts?"

  "What does Ralts like? I want to give him a house-warm-ing gift!" Poppy said.

  Tulip blinked. "Wouldn't a birthday present be better?"

  "A birthday present!" Poppy grinned.

  Tulip nodded, slower. Thinking back to her Gym's Ralts. "Well, he likes—"

  Linh let himself drift out of the conversation. He scratched the back of his neck and looked upwards. There, the League's local quarters, adorned with advertisements and posters of upcoming plays and movies. Here, the observatory Tulip battled at.

  A tall square building, with a large iron sculpture atop the roof. A sphere on four steel legs. The actual viewing bubble. Under that (hidden from view) would be the arena itself.