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October 4, 2012
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I'm fine, really, Michelle... by purplekecleon I'm fine, really, Michelle... by purplekecleon
Missy was done. Fed up. She simply could not handle another moment of those awful Zorua children.

It wasn’t their fault, of course. She had to keep telling herself that. They’d been raised by a bad, a very bad Pokémon; a Pokémon mean-spirited enough to harm a small and defenseless creature like that Jasmine, a Pokémon with enough hatred to demolish half the village and almost kill Sorbet. These children needed more support than any other children would, and Missy the Blissey would be damned if anyone was better at supporting children than her.

But it was so hard.

It was so hard to be understanding when every time she turned around, another normal, good kid was trapped in some delusion of blindness or deafness. Normal, good kids play normal, good games, eventually get tired, and fall into normal, good sleep. They don’t steal toys or pick locks or make you think the kitchen caught fire only to lock you in. Missy could deal with normal, good kids. But when it came to those evil-hearted Zorua, she was done.

Fed up.

In fact, the Blissey’s only reprieve was the upcoming visit from that nice painter from the studio by the memorial. Palette the Zoroark, while not particularly good at painting herself, was the student of the renowned Pal, and she was supposed to paint a beautiful mural for the kids of the daycare. Now, Missy was hardly the catty type, but she couldn’t help from overhearing some juicy rumors. Apparently that Zoroark had been involved with some really suspicious things in the past, embezzling or fraud or something official and criminal-sounding like that, and on normal circumstances Missy would hardly allow a criminal to approach her impressionable charges. Oh, no, not at all.

But Palette had changed, now — she spent her time doing honest (though maybe not the most stylish) business, and even a bit of community service. And even besides that, nobody could really bring themselves to dislike her anymore, what with all that presumed-dead nonsense. In fact, she made the Blissey feel a bit guilty; she’d just been through so much!

In short, despite her reservations about Palette’s talent, Missy simply had to give the Zoroark a chance. It just wouldn’t be very charitable of her not to.

She could only hope the artist would show up soon.


Palette hesitated, then rapped twice on the dainty wooden door with two out of three claws on her open hand.

“Miss Michelle? It’s Palette, I’m here for the mural?”

The daycare had already been emitting quite a ruckus, even outside, but the noise level suddenly spiked. Palette imagined the complaints of fifty tiny assailants being suddenly shaken off in favor of the undeserving doorbell and the undeserving Zoroark behind the undeserving doorbell. It was kind of awful, actually; all those kids, forced by curiosity to stay awake while some strange ‘mon fooled with paints for what would seem like days.

She was interrupted in her musings by a jolt to the snout when Missy finally pushed the door open without much regard to the position of Palette’s face.

“Oh... oh dear, did I hit you there? I’m terribly sorry, please come in, I’ll fetch you some ice...” Missy nearly fell over apologizing, as if her entire reputation was staked on how polite she was to her guest. Palette picked her easel up and let herself be dragged across a small front hallway and off to the right, into some sort of homely, white-tiled kitchen where Missy quickly began digging in a brand new walnut ice chest.

“I’m fine, really, Michelle...” Palette glanced nervously back at a sudden throng of curious children, peeking out from behind the doorframe. Wait, were... were some of those eyes staring at her with... malice?

“No, please, call me Missy!” Missy demanded, oblivious to her guest’s discomfort. “Ah, here we are.” She straightened and thrust something freezing and hard into Palette’s face.

“Hold that, would you?” Palette tried, but it was difficult to juggle an easel and a crate of paints in the same hand. She ended up surreptitiously leaving the pack of ice on the counter behind her. “And, uh, come with me, I’ll show you to your wall...”


Part 1 of "Inspiration" by :icondeathsbuddy:
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MagicalMaxy Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Um what kind of paper is this?
Jfdp13 Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2012  Student General Artist
Well, i suppose you don't have to answer my previous question! I assume these are watercolor.
But... Could you show/tell us/me how you do it? Or maybe i should catch any or your livestreams...
eatpraylove Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Ouch, right on the nose. Poor Palette...!
deathsbuddy Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
It's ok. Palate doesn't need it.

She only requires her taste buds to be a professional gourmet!
eatpraylove Featured By Owner Oct 8, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
But...smell forms part of taste. That's why food tastes weird when you have a humans, anyway.
deathsbuddy Featured By Owner Oct 8, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Oh no! My story is ruined!
Hedgey Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2012  Student Digital Artist
Wanderer619 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2012
Nicely Done
tenko72 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2012
I love their expressions here! XD Poor things.
Sanngot Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I do not envy Palette right now... v.v;

Then again, I'm not the most comfortable around large groups of little kids. ._.
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