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Snow did not come easily to Artazon. The climate wasn’t quite right for it. Even during the worst winters, the temperature never dropped enough for snow to form and last. This suited Brassius just fine.
Yes, he understood the artistic beauty of a fresh snowfall. For a few precious moments before the frantic whirls of machinery turned on to clear the roads, it would leave the world utterly silent. But that fact did not change his aversion. Precipitation wreaked havoc on his joints. No wonder his town was a haven of bleeding hearts and wistful retirees alike.
Brassius sighed, tapping the end of his pen against his nose. This time of year brought out a morosely poetic side of him that he didn’t quite enjoy. His journals always reflected this, much to his dismay. Regardless, he wrote down at last, today is bound to be splendid. I have arranged a beautiful surprise. It surpasses most of the work I have achieved thus far in my life, and I firmly believe it represents my particular philosophy quite well. Hass will love it. I am sure of it. He underlined the last sentence three times for good measure. The careful excision of doubt from his mind only served to lift his spirits.
Unfortunately, though he longed to see his love now, that wasn’t to be. The agreed upon plan was to meet in the evening, once Uva Academy winded down for the day and the art club went their separate ways. He had several hours to kill before that happened.
“Arboliva?” He called out before waiting for the sound of shuffling against the floor. His Pokémon poked her head through the doorway, expectant and silent. “There you are, darling. Would you like to put out the Sunflora with me?”
Naturally, she nodded. Brassius suspected that she had taken a partner among one of them who was responsible for her current host of children. Whatever her reasoning, she deeply valued helping him run those little errands.
His house was small, but it never felt that way. Not when it bustled with Pokémon at every second, that is. Lilligant waved at him from one of the chairs as he passed. Her daughter sat in her lap, unbothered by the world. A part of him envied her. The obliviousness of youth! Was I ever like that as a child? He didn’t think so.
Reflecting back on his lonely roots carried him through the act of dressing himself for the chill outside. Brassius tightened his third-favorite scarf around his neck, satisfied by the loop he had made. “Alright then.” He said aloud, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. “It’s time for some floral liberation.”
Though Artazon rarely saw snow, the sun still weakened during the winter months. This state of affairs did not suit Sunflora. His little bouquet never failed to kick up a fuss once the days grew shorter. In fact, Brassius could hear their mumbles now. Some of them were loitering by the gate to the greenhouse, their green bodies slumped against the wood. “So dramatic.” He muttered under his breath.
Arboliva advanced on a particularly big one. Without pausing for a second, she started to scold them. Was this the fabled secret lover she had? Brassius hung back, taking in the sight of a Sunflora cowering away from another Grass-type. It was hardly avant-garde, but it amused him greatly.
“Now, now.” He said once he felt the poor thing had endured enough. “You all can go wander for a few hours. It’s a free day.”
Immediately, the supposedly drained Pokémon sprang to their feet. According to Hass, lazy students acted much the same way.
A cynic might say that allowing the Sunflora to free roam was solely to prepare them for the Gym Tests he administered. They’d point to the fact that they liked to trail after strangers as a sign of thorough conditioning. Perhaps there was a minuscule nugget of truth to that. In a more precise manner though, Brassius liked seeing them happy. The sea of yellow dancing throughout his town brought a matching smile to his face. At the end of the day, they’d always return to him; but until then, they could make other people smile.
… Now that he thought about it more, this was probably a metaphor. The story of his life.
Hassel arrived a few hours later in his gleaming chariot pulled by squawking bird Pokémon. By now, most of the drivers knew to drop him off close to Brassius’ home. “Brassie!” The other man exclaimed before he was even fully out of the dully named ‘Flying Taxi’. “You will not believe the day I had! Drama! Excitement! Tension, even!”
As naturally as breathing, Brassius took his hand and helped him down to earth. “Hass! Why don’t you tell me about it inside?” Today, Hassel smelled strongly of cardamom. Being in close proximity with someone he loved so deeply almost made up for the fact that every breath singed his nostrils with how biting the air had become.
Though he was loath to admit it, he wasn’t fully listening to the story Hassel had to share. Something about an Eiscue and a TA? His mind kept straying to his true intentions. That was the trouble with beautiful surprises. They weren’t anticipated by design, so broaching the topic of them proved difficult.
Eventually, when there was a lull in what his partner was saying, Brassius saw his moment. “I must confess something to you, Hass.” He said.
The other man faltered, his orange eyes glossing over with concern. Hassel always wore his emotions on his sleeve. It was a facet of what he adored about him, but also made delivering a surprise problematic. “I beg your pardon! I’ve been rambling, and I didn’t even notice you had other matters on your mind. Has something dire happened?”
“No, nothing of the sort.” He reached out to pat Hassel’s arm. “I’ve just been dishonest to you. I didn’t call you over tonight simply to chat. I’ve prepared a gift for you.”
“A gift!” Ol’ Hass’ eyes widened like saucers. “Why? It isn’t my birthday! And it’s certainly not yours. You’d tell me if you were going to eschew birthday gifting traditions again, yes?”
“Yes, of course.” Brassius replied, trying not to laugh.
“Then… What’s the occasion?” He had put on his confused face now, swapping it out with worry in his endless closet of expressions. Even now, Hassel remained perfectly charming. His fumbling towards a conclusion that made sense only served to remind Brassius of why he loved him so, and why he was motivated towards this course of action.
See, Brassius was not a religious man in a way a census would recognize. His beliefs were deviant enough to be regarded as blasphemous. But once, at the height of his disinterest in the world, the man sitting beside him showed him a replica of the Meadow Plate in a museum. It was a mere fabrication, true, but the very sight of it filled his heart with wonder. The power of Plates are shared among Pokémon. It said this for all, but those words spoke to him alone that night. He would never view Arceus and the world the same way again.
In his eyes, the Original One was a Grass-type and a mother. The mother of the gods? Maybe. The mother of the bounty of nature? Indubitably. She championed interconnectedness, beauty, and love. No one could exist on their own. Needing someone, needing those virtues in his life to thrive - they were not sins. He would always be grateful for that realization, and for the man who made it possible.
“I simply adore you! That is all this is. I don’t think there needs to be any justification beyond that.” Brassius replied. He thought little of holidays and festivities beyond the inevitable influx in requested commissions. An expression of affection needed no excuse.
Only some sort of miracle prevented Hass from bursting into tears then, though he could tell it was a close thing. “I… I don’t have anything for you, Brassie.” His love confessed. His very words looked like they pained him to say.
In response, Brassius let one of his hands settle over the other man’s. “Your reaction will be gift enough, I assure you.” It is already.
It took a few minutes after that to coax Hassel into the atelier, but the wait was worth it. Every second was to Brassius where Hassel was concerned.