Subject: IC: Biggenbrassenparpenthingens
Posted on: 2020-08-20 21:15:54 UTC

There was a single Flareon in the cafeteria. In the absence of any other small woodland mammals trying to chat her up and be gently let down because her heart belonged to Drakie, whoever that was, she simply sat and drank. Her eyes were bloodshot and her ears folded down. Close inspection revealed that they were in fact covered with three layers of thick woolly socks (stolen from the armoire of a Manipulative!Dumbledore), and that these were in fact covering some seriously heavy-duty concert earplugs. Attempting to remove the socks, however, would result in said close inspector getting set on fire.

It had been exactly forty-three hours and thirty-seven minutes since the end of the concert.

It had been exactly sixty-two hours and twenty-nine minutes since the Flareon had last been asleep.

She was oblivious to the singing. Instead, clinging frantically to her last nerve, padded up to the counter and left a message saying "just leave the bottle" written in shaky crayon on the back of a placemat. She then trudged back with her bottle safely stowed in her wicker carrying hamper, and it painted a sad and lonely picture of one adorable fluffy Pokémon's downward spiral into the inviting but dangerous embrace of the bottle.

Or it would have done had the bottle not contained choccy milk.

Doktor Trollenfisch, meanwhile, was still playing Yavanna's songs. He hadn't quite noticed where Gabrielle had gone. There was only the music, and the music had to be played. And so he parped, and parped, and thricewise parped, a song of the earth and growing things oompahing out into the hallways at volumes that would stun a charging wildebeest.

Such was the power of miracles.

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