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The teacup she held was faded and chipped on the rim, but Fane admired the delicate porcelain’s floral pattern all the same. She turned it in her hands, cupping it to enjoy the warmth that radiated from the smooth surface, inhaling the perfumed steam that rose in delicate tendrils. She hadn’t intended to stop for tea, but when the rain came pouring down in sheets and the elderly woman who owned the tea shoppe offered her shelter under the awning and a hot cup to ward of a chill… Well, who was she to say no?

Some trainers were content to skip over Shaula town entirely and head straight to route 5, either bored by the little town’s extensive history or, more likely, creeped out by the abundance of ghost pokemon that lived there. But Fane found herself strangely drawn in, easily charmed by the homey atmosphere and picturesque cottages. In a strange roundabout way, it reminded her of what little she could recall about the Seafolk Village- just with a lot less water and a lot more ghosts.

...What a strange association. Maybe Maeve was starting to rub off on her.

The drifloon in question clung to the armrest of the chair across from her, bobbing in the air with the wind, staring at something out in the rain. Fane took a sip of her tea, leaning back in the cushioned chair, legs folded up on the seat beside her.

"Do you like it out here?" It was hard to tell what the ghost pokemon was thinking.

<It feels more like home than home does.>

The ranger looked out at the town again as if she could see whatever Maeve was staring at- but there was nothing, save for the occasional passerby with their umbrella and rain boots. The rain was starting to let up; what was once a downpour was now a drizzle tapping rhythmically on the metal awning. But the sky rumbled with the promise of more in the distance. Pikipeks flitted about in the shelter of the trees. Other than the drifloon there were no other ghost pokemon about- but it was still mid-morning yet. They were probably taking shelter in the eaves and attics of the old houses. Fane made a mental note to try to scout some out later. Even if she still wasn’t sure what she wanted her rehabilitation efforts to focus on, it only made sense to start with her favorite type. That and (in her limited experience) ghost pokemon were critically lacking in conservation efforts.

She lifted the cup to her lips once more and turned back to Maeve, who was no longer wrapped around the chair but drifting free as the wind carried her out from under the awning and into the streets of town. Fane sputtered in her tea.

Drifting free. Oh no.

“Shit.” Her first instinct was to reach for Maeve’s pokeball at her hip, but she had already floated too far away for that. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she pictured the drifloon getting caught in a tree, punctured by a stray branch. “Damnit!”

She slapped whatever specks she had in her pocket onto the table- enough to pay for the unfinished tea and then some. No time to count out the correct amount, she had a pokemon to chase down. Raindrops clung to her hair and weighed down her ruffled tank top as she ran out into the street, holding her bag down by the straps to keep the egg inside from bouncing around. The drifloon was still visible, thank goodness, but the wind carried her further with each passing second.

Fane poured on some speed, splattering mud onto her shoes and calves with every step.