((Ten years hence [or fifteen, or who knows how many?], when Ix and Charlotte are long retired from the PPC. Filled for prompt 2.))


Faolan slowly circled the young woman, pincushion in hand and a rather large collection of pins in her mouth.

"Hem looks even," she mumbled around the pins. "Alright, you want to go ahead and get dressed? I can finish this up for you tonight and you can come pick it up in the morning."

Maggie beamed and stepped off the footstool, twirling a little bit in her Cinderella ballgown. "Seriously, I can't thank you enough; you can work magic."

Faolan smiled and ducked her head, pulling pins out of her mouth and sticking them in the pincushion. "Something like that," she said as Maggie disappeared behind the changing screen.

Charlotte wandered in with her clipboard, tapping Faolan on the shoulder. "Just got another call," she said, passing the clipboard over. "We've got a couple who want to do Link and Zelda," she said. "Twilight Princess specifically—I put them down for Monday at eleven."

"Sounds good to me," Faolan said, leaning in briefly to rest her forehead against Charlotte's.

Charlotte smiled and kissed her briefly before pulling away. "I'm going to pop to the store," she said. "We're running low on sandwich bread."

"Bring me some of those little chocolate pastries?" Faolan asked, and Charlotte grinned.

"You got it," she said, disappearing out the door.

Maggie came around the screen, dressed again in her jeans and T-shirt with the gown draped over her arm. "So how long have you been doing the cosplay business?" she asked curiously. "It seems like an awful lot of work for just two people."

"Just a few years," Faolan said, passing Maggie a water bottle in exchange for the gown. She draped it over a dress form, smoothing out the skirts carefully. "We've kind of got it down to a system now."

"Good system," Maggie remarked, sitting on a nearby chair. She took a long gulp from her water bottle—it was starting to get warm in the fitting room, despite Faolan's best efforts at setting up fans—before shifting uncomfortably. "Can I ask you something... a little personal?"

"Is it about my face?" Faolan asked dryly, and Maggie's cheeks went pink.

"Well... actually, yeah," she said. "Do you mind me asking... how you got those scars?"

Faolan's voice was dry enough to match her smile. "I was mauled by a werewolf as a little kid," she said.

Maggie laughed. "Okay, no, seriously."

"Car accident," Faolan said automatically, and Maggie winced in sympathy.

"Tough luck. Nobody was...?"

"Killed? No, Ma and Da didn't even get hurt. Just me."

Maggie nodded, fingers tapping on her water bottle. "That's something, at least. The scars do look pretty badass, though," she added. "Though I like your werewolf story a lot better. That's pretty funny."

Faolan glanced down at her wrists, at the shiny pink scars that wrapped around them—the result of pulling on her chains once a month for nearly fifteen years.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at Maggie. "Certainly a lot more entertaining story to tell, at least. Is there anything else you wanted before you go? Shoes? I can do slippers to your size if you need them."

"Nah, I've already got a pair," Maggie said, grabbing her coat and slipping it on. "Thank you so much! I'll be back tomorrow. Three, right?"

"Three o'clock," Faolan confirmed. "I'll send you an email tonight with the rest of your bill."

"Now, staaay."

"Omanyte!"

"Hahah! No, no, you stay. Go on, girl, staaay?"

"O-man-YTE!"

"Good girl!"

It was dark in the RC, and for the moment Peri preferred it that way - it was better than having to watch Nautilus overplay the caretaker role.

Just listening to the cooing was bad enough, given his headache.

"Some of us are still recovering. Can you please keep it down?" He hissed, trying not to add to his own pain.

"Oh! Sorry, Peri." The other man amended - given his color and height, it was hard to pick him out at the other end of the darkened RC, so he was stuck working from voice alone. Nautilus had lowered his volume, but it still felt like it wasn't enough.

"Now, see if you like eating this..." There was a pause.

"PLEH!" Something small and oddly shiny in the minimal lighting flew all the way across the response center - on Peri's arms.

"Gah!" he reacted, flinching, and the unsteadiness of the world around him suddenly grew worse. Quickly moving the pillow he was resting on to being on top of him, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing.

It was supposed to have been a normal mission in the Pokémon continuum - a whole host of minis and other typos, a main character who was both barely a rounded personality and a textbook Black Hole Sue, and at one point an inexplicable My Little Pony cameo.

If Nautilus had wanted a pet, he should have kept one of the minis - but instead, they'd found an Omanyte, and the other agent refused to pass up the second-degree pun.

Back in the present, Peri removed the pillow once he felt like he'd regained some control - a sign that it was okay for Nautilus to approach, now.

"Sorry about all of that," he said quietly, as Peri peeled the rejected - seaweed? Really? - off his own dark skin.

"Probably should keep him in the bathroom or something..."

"If you're going to keep him, we'd need to fit an aquarium in here," Peri retorted.

"I'm not saying you can't keep him, just- I've heard stories."

Nautilus shrugged, grinning wryly.

"Hey, if it better reflects his natural habitat.."

"Have you even named her?" Peri sat all the way up now, looking over with suspicion.

"I was thinking it'd have to be a word we don't use normally, so - Curlicue?"

"Omanyte!"

Peri hit Nautilus with the pillow.

Rosie smiled. She was finally going to where she wanted to be. Maybe she could finally find Kiera again.

“Tell me,” said Clara, “why do you want to do this?”

Rosie shrugged. “You know why. It’s where I grew up. We have to do something!”

“There’s something more than that, isn’t there?”

Rosie quite often thought that Clara was far too perceptive. This was definitely one of those times.

“Maybe…” she said slowly. “What makes you think that?”


“Well, since you arrived you’ve been going on about it, all the time, for five years. There’s got to be something more, because from what I’ve heard it wasn’t exactly the best place ever.”

Rosie was silent.

“Come on! Spit it out!”

“Fine,” said Rosie sharply, trying to work out how best to phrase this. “The day before I arrived, I went to see this play with some friends. Thing is, it was technically illegal, and…” She tried not to think of Imogen. That memory was too painful. “There was a raid, and the government came, and my friend… her name was Kiera – her name is Kiera.”

Kiera wasn’t dead. At least, Rosie didn’t think she was, and she was determined not to.

“She… she wanted to help us escape… so she got herself caught instead. I’ve been feeling bad ever since.” Now she had begun, she might as well reveal the whole thing. “The person who told the government… was my other friend. Imogen.”

Clara nodded. “And now you want to save your friend?”

“If she’s still… still around to be saved. It’s been five years, but I’ve got to try. I know she would have done the same for me.”




Note: if you read my prompt from a month ago, then yes, this is the same Clara.