Thunderlight

(Cont.) Worthless, Useless, No-good Waste of Time

Meeting Anastasia again is just as unnerving as it was the first time. Hilda is intimidating, sure, but Anastasia is downright scary. Mott still thinks she should be wearing an eyepatch instead of the pink bow wrapped around her head. She's at least wearing one in spirit, or something. Whenever she turns her cold eyes on to him, he worries she's slowly drilling and icicle into his flesh.

Could she kill him? He feels like she could.

"These are your friends, my love?" She asks Hilda, her apathetic gaze sweeping over the two of them as if they're mere specks of dust on a shelf. Hilda nods while Anastaisa seems entirely unimpressed. "The ones with the death wish?"

Mott gulps. He knows she's referring to their quest of chasing Zekrom, but it feels like she's implying that the mere offense of talking to her is a death wish. It seems as though any wrong move might strike her ire and cause him a world of pain. This impression doesn't seem to be striking Lenny, though, as he gawks at the colorful tablecloth draped over the table in the center of the room.

"Hilda, did you make this?" Lenny asks in amazement. Somewhat bashful, Hilda nods. He beams. "That's incredible! You've gotten awfully good at this craft business since I last saw you."

She gives another nod. "I practiced what you taught me. I am good. I sell my crafts in the town square with the other merchants."

Lenny and Hilda chat about cloth and fabric while Anastasia watches their interaction with unsettlingly keen attention. Her disquieting demeanor makes Hilda look cuddly in comparison. Especially when Hilda listens to Lenny ramble on about cotton with a smile in her eyes.

His anxiety in her presence is dulled somewhat by the jovial atmosphere. After a few minutes of listening to Lenny and Hilda catch up, Mott can't help but smile. Despite his apprehensions about Hilda in the beginning, she's turned out to be a pretty cool lady. He'll admit that he missed her from time to time after she left them. Of course, he'll never tell her that.

"You should tell her sometime," Anastasia says to him, quiet. She talks lowly enough to not be heard over Lenny's excessive chatter, giving her and Mott a semblance of privacy, but Mott's heart still stutters with shock. Whether the surprise comes from being addressed or from her seemingly hearing his thoughts, he's not sure. Her eyes slide to him, cool and empty. "It would please her to hear that you missed her just as she missed you."

She can read minds?

"Somewhat," she answers.

Mott frowns, wishing she would quit.

"Apologies. It's a rude habit," she confesses, brushing the topic aside. "I will stop now."

Mott narrows his eyes doubtfully.

"I have stopped," she assures in the least convincing display he's ever seen. It's like she's not even trying to lie. "Truly," she monotones.

Mott proceeds to fill his brain with the most annoyingly catchy song he can muster.

A low curse escapes Anastasia, and she shakes her head and looks away from him. A burst of triumph swells in his chest, proud at successfully ousting her. Although it ended up being a bit of a round-about victory, as now he's got the song stuck in his head, too...

Dammit.

"Fine. I am no longer listening in," she says, and this time, he actually believes her. With a scrutinizing gaze, she runs her eyes over him slowly. "I only want to know why you are here."

"It's like we told Hilda," he responds, "we want to stop Zekrom, and that took us to you."

"Yes. My colleague in Roselake recommended you find me, it seems. She had sent many people my way before her death. Most of them were not worth trusting."