
Chapter Twenty-Four
A soft hiss came out of the exhaust tube from behind — filling the back of vehicle with grey fumes. Slowly, she clicked the engines off and hopped off. Marshall followed behind her and was laughing to himself.
"Pretty impressive for a first try," he teased, gesturing his head towards the new vehicle she just drove; she playfully nudged his shoulders and smiled at this.
It took them almost half the day to finally get a job that would hire pups into an establishment yesterday. It really was difficult as most rejected them for being "canines" and that the department of health would react violently to this. But to their luck, one pitied both of them and hired them in his restaurant as waiters.
Yes. Shocking. The last job you think they'd land on; but yesterday, they already had a discussion about sanitary protocols. They are to groom themselves before they could begin working. To which brings us into an early crisp morning scenery.
Early at the Look-out, they quietly slipped into town, leaving a small note to Ryder that they were to attend something important and may take the whole day — just to clear any suspicions placed onto them.
Now, back to the worn-down yard of the modest restaurant, the two of them began to tame their fur to safe check that it wouldn't mischievously fall onto any meal. The place pulsed an awful scent of garbage that rots behind, and the petrichor made no things better.
"Pass me the hairspray," tells Marshall, as the Husky pawed him the said item. A brume of the hair tamer came in contact with his' and began shaping it. During the process, his fur became stiffer and felt uncomfortable against his flesh — his body felt like it was being covered in tape residue and fish.
"We should buy the dog gel soon," he uttered in the midst of struggle "Not only is the human hairspray stinky, it's also not good in the long run as it's toxic."
"You can say that again," as the Husky half-heartedly applied the said product. That whole minute was hell to experience, it was as if they wafted through a wasteland and rolled in its radioactive lake. It was a miracle that they're still standing.
As the numbers began to stack, so did their time wasted turned into a haul. Both knew it was time for them to begin their shift as well.
Dutifully walking in to the backdoor of the said establishment, the kitchen atmosphere was filled with fresh garlic and onion bathing in oil. The duo crackled in excitement as they began the course — truly, a power couple to begin any dish.
Marshall had to remind himself to not get side-tracked from its deceiving upfront. I mean.. In all genuity, it was no fallacy that the dish being prepared is scrumptious and is in preparation to attract one's senses, but he musn't forget what he truly was here for. In addition to that reminder, he is to work longer than Everest, so if he's to make ends meet without any suspicions arising within the other PAW Patrol members, he should establish a tunnel vision to guarantee a speedy yet steady result.
Looking around, it seemed that it wasn't set to open soon, not in the next ten minutes perhaps, so to busy himself, he picked up the cloth that he eyed earlier and began wiping the tables for later. It too, was an excuse to explore the decent-sized restaurant himself.
The diner was decorated with this retroesque vibe. But rather than an upbeat setting that would both be an eye-candy and sore, it's tinted with slight muted colors, and not a speck of furniture to be out place. It had red-alternating-white glossy couch, a white table with metal rims, and retro decors that hung misfitly perfect on the walls — just above the slim strip of two-row black and white checkered backsplashes.
Wholly, the establishment felt like a lost fragment of the past for someone to relive something that used to be theirs. The jukebox lazily played this jazz song as Marshall felt a weird sense of familiarity and serenity. To tie it all off, the ambience was a travel to the past.
»»——⍟——««
Back at the look-out, Chase had just woken up groggily from his slumber. Rubbing his eyes to flutter, he wiped away those morning glories and temporary concealment of consciousness that came along with his current burdens.
Of all the things he had forgotten from his amnesia, he just had to remember the pain that he caused to her. Her cherry eyes looking at him, and those same orbs too, quickly switching of softness to worry and fear. If only he wasn't so afraid of himself, he wouldn't have hurt her the same way he did to himself every time he comes back to what had long occurred.
Ever since that misunderstanding, everyday, he wished that he would grow out of this difficult state he was in and actually grow from it. Learn to let go of what's been holding him back. But for some reason, he always finds himself along these red borderlines — hesitating and looking over the horizons of it. If only he had took what he had said to Marshall by heart — a promise to share and unload burdens that he can't shoulder himself.
"Why is it so difficult though?" He asks himself. In movies, it seemed that every time there's an argument, all it takes is one arc and development to resolve all the tension — perhaps in a season or two — but that's beside the point. He envies these fables and fictions that they had it easier. All he is doing lately is fluctuate his progress and feels as though he's made void of progress.
Slowly crawling out of the cramped space he was in that reminded of his own consciousness, he took in the fresh morning breeze to calm himself from the rushing thoughts that decided to flood him at an early notice — a visit that he hoped that it were just door-to-door salesmen, all different but came and visited him once only.
Threading his paws through his scalp, he forcibly breathed out his tensed air and looked around the area. It seemed that he was the only one awake.
Deciding to start the day already, he went inside and prepared himself a breakfast in the midst of a dim room where light only passes through the glass doors. He sighed heavily as he quickly took notice of the gloomy setting he was in. It was a horrible sight to see as it only recalled of what he was trying to avoid. The solution to that? Push his dish near the entrance-exit door and eat there.. Alone.
Thankfully though, there was life within the elevator as its gears turned to descend the rider of the mechanics — no intended pun, but the rider is Ryder. He still had his pajamas on with his weird googly-eyed Chase sleeping slippers and a nest of a hair. His eyes woke wearily and emphasized the dark bags underneath them.
Seeing his output, he wasn't sure whether he should be flattered (and thankful for his presence) or be weirded out (and hope he leaves quickly) by the fact that his owner's choice of design for his sleeping slippers were himself. Actually, those slippers were bought as a souveneir from one of their trips when it was just the three of them; Ryder found them in a rack and bought two pairs — a German Shepherd and a Dalmatian looking slippers — as a joke.
Unfortunately, it grew into him and Chase couldn't help but feel loved and mocked whenever he wears it. Where's the Marshall looking slippers? you may ask? Marshall snatched those from the boy's closet and hid it who knows where; Chase was unable to acquire a window time to get rid of the slippers that looked like himself, so for the rest of his life, he is to live with his owner comfily walking with his head.
Walking over to the counter to leave the red mug he was carrying earlier, he unintentionally did not acknowledge the German Shepherd's existence. Either way, Chase didn't mind, but he honestly wished he said something in the end anyway. "Seriously. The silence is driving me insane." He told himself.
Spinning around with a new mug full of hot chocolate, Ryder almost spat his beverage in surprise that one of his canines had already woken up and is eating in an area he least expected. He said good morning and so did Chase. Neither were sure how to keep the conversation afloat as both minds are still processing.
"Um.. How long have you been there?" The boy asks as he sipped the hot drink that's clasped around his fingers. Shrugging, Chase simply replied that he's just woken up.
A buzz came from his pockets and he swiftly fished it out. Answering the call, the screen greatly illuminated his unadjusted pups and burnt them. He heard the speaker tell him all sorts of stuff; right away, knowing that early in the morning, they'll be having a mission already. Although he was unable to identify any of their features.
"..Right. Yes. Sure. We'll be there in a few." And that ends the call. He scoffed and laughed at this and looked at Chase.
"I may not have seen who called, but I'm sure that's the Princess of Barkingburg." And from the absence of panic-stricken in his expression, the canine knew what she had requested despite not entirely eavesdropping upon the barely perceptible call.
For once, he was up for that and gladly took the mission. Often times, he would forcibly accept the Royal request and be sent on a sortie against his wishes — a desire that he be beside the Cockapoo instead, snuggling her in between his arms as they shower each other small pecks and remarks only the two of them could understand.
Today though was different. Today, he needed something to take his mind off of, and a new setting might just do the trick to help him unfog his thoughts.
"Great. I'll give Robo-Dog a notice. Send my regards to her." He smiles past the consistent weary upfront he has, as the caffeine or the chocolates' content have yet to work its magic.
Chase knew Ryder had to remain in Adventure Bay as Barkingburg is simply not the only thing he has to take care of; in plain certitude, the Princess' request was always a jack in the box. Ever so occasionally would she summon their presence in midst of obscure conundrums. Sometimes she'd make up a line in between rescue missions and that it would disrupt their work flow or wholly Chase — as he is always her special request.
But for this given situation he is in, he was somewhat grateful he was given this recurring privilege to come look after Sweetie — who also has her wishes bounded to have a baby sitter (only as of lately though).
Now traversing into the Air Patroller, he was greeted by Robo-Dog who barked in bit-style and wheeled to the main control. Quickly changing into his outfit, they then set off to Barkingburg.
A loud whistle of compound air came dispersing underneath of the aircraft and into the outside world. As it slowly docked itself onto the pebbled pavement, the pooch and the Princess herself awaited for the German Shepherd's arrival to greet them and begin his task.
The hinges then detached and slowly unflapped the long awaited look-afterer of the Royal pooch.
"Good morning, Your Highness." Remarks of the newly landed canine, as the Princess nodded her head in acknowledgement.
"Pleasantries aside, I must now take my leave. I am more than blithe to know you've arrived not less than a minute late, Chase," she then looked over to the Terrier and caressed her head as goodbye "Do solicitude my sweet pooch during my absence. You may use the newly renovated room for your amuse. Sweetie shall direct you the way."
And with that, she hopped in her carriage and was taken away by the steed and coachman and slowly was engulfed by the horizon of lush greenery; behind were a few men of her own, trailing behind her with a horse equipped with them, as weaponry dangled around their waists.
Turning his head, he looked over to Sweetie, whom was walking inside already. Inside, her voice echoes "Are you coming or not, Welsh?"
Creeping up the flight of golden-rimmed staircase and velvety carpet, rows of picture-frames lined up along the hallway. Some were captures from ancient and long forgotten eras, but most connive the past as most were hung photos of the current Princess and her pooch as well.
One of them was a portrait of the Princess sitting on her throne with Sweetie on her lap. The other was one of her birthdays with a backdrop of mountainous presents. Simply, they were small moments that the Princess might have wanted to remember herself, but one thing that caught his eyes were a painting.
Because of the advancement that the world has been creating, no longer had the need of artistry foot-work were in demand in capturing as such — one of the leading choices to seize the moment these days were Polaroid photos and digitalized shoots that be turned into tarpaulins.
The tradition and authenticity of the medieval theme was fading along with time, it was probably for the best, as the Princess grew busier and left little time for a measly paint-session to squeeze in her already overflowing agenda. But that too, meant that newer "paintings" were less textured and were more glossy than the matte acrylic works that had traces of the paintbrush's path.
And that's where the contemporary world plays and failed to capture his interest. This specific painting was among like its ancestors, it heavily depended in acrylic pigment and desiccation. The craft was in Impressionist style — though muddled and lost in translation, he could clearly outline someone kneeling to someone smaller as the rain poured down.
Clichés aside, it told a whole story untold to majority. Instead of the rainy setting to be tinted in cold and damp-feeling colors, it rather gave off comforting and warm colors despite the little or lack of use of actual warm paint. He squinted a little longer and hoped that he would better understand what it was.
Unknowingly though, he had stopped on his tracks. So naturally, the faint beats of his footsteps disappeared, to which Sweetie picked up on and caused her to look back. Confused, she retraced her steps and saw the German Shepherd's attention glued onto the picture.
Drawing closer to him, that's when she had realised of what caught his interest. "Hey!" Chase snaps out of his trance and saw the Terrier glaring at him in disappointment that he failed to trail behind her. Quickly muttering an apology, he left the painting and followed her.
Along the way though, he couldn't help but revert his attention back to the painting. There's something fishy about it, or rather.. Something not ordinary behind it. It can't be a simple painting, can't it? Perhaps it is and he's overthinking about it. But the subject did not correlate to any of those aligned with it.
But before he is to descend into detective mode, they've entered a very spacious room that is well-lit by the sunlight from outside. It has a fancy cabinet at two sides of the room, and in the midst of it is a small stage with a royal seat. From the wall side of the room, there lined all sorts of instruments.
On the table, there laid a flute, violin, clarinet, guitar and many more. Of course the triangle laid there too, but it seemed it was used the least as it was still sealed in its package. Larger instruments were displayed on the floor, like the cello, marimba, xylophone and more. While the grand piano and harp were situated at the large window at the right wing of the musical sanctuary.
Sweetie walked over there and sat on it. Her eyes swiftly searched for Chase to see if he was still there; yes he was.
"Please sit anywhere you please. Take this privilege that I grace you with my musical excellence." He only smiled at her as she began to play a piano piece.
https://youtu.be/As_bt59fj8Q
((for desktop/laptop users: you may play the song provided in top for continuous music))
Her skillful paws glided upon the whites and the blacks of the surface. The opening was a peaceful melody as soft as a cool breeze on an April morning, softly howling on the crack of dawn.
Walking over to the large glass that stood mightily in the midst of the room, he looked over to the gardens below, before he knew it, he was transported some place elsewhere. He was staring at the leaves rustling along with the wind as he waited for someone. Below him, grass was moist and made him somehow giddy and rejuvenated. It was light and carefree, and the rushing wind was crisp — newly converted to oxygen.
Like a windfall, Skye seemed to be right by his side, gazing at him with sugary smiles and sleeve-hidden hearts — so was he. He examined her eyes longer; like a night's sky, no matter how many times he've looked at it, it somehow would always feel new and familiar, and that's what keeps him on his toes and falling again.
"Hey," he says, still grinning ear to ear without leaving his gaze on her's. "Hey," she replies back with that same smile he has. As they lingered longer in each other's gazes, unknowingly had the breeze knit them closer than anyone could imagine.
Not only had it occurred to them that the current was exciting and brushing them, but had their breaths too.
"So where we gonna go?" Chase asks her, pulling her closer to him as he felt the frigidness himself. Placing her head onto his', she whispered him the reply. But for the fact that their heights differ greatly, he had to lean lower to hear her properly in the essence of this illicit exchange.
He smiled at her notion. To Skye's surprise, she is now on Chase's back, and they were speeding now. The adrenaline that pumped in her veins had dispelled the uncertainty and anxiety from her, all she could do as the thrilling play happen in front of her was to scream in delight and laugh in between beats.
Paw in paw had the duo gone so far. Sights passed by them and no-strangers came and short-lived witnessed their outrageous ideas becoming to reality. But no one could somehow stop their bullet-vision from becoming otherwise than actuality.
"This is so fun!" a remark thrown by the Cockapoo said as she struggled to catch her breath from all the elation he is causing her. The German Shepherd could only laugh and agree to this too "We're going on a detour, do you trust me?"
Slight hesitation came washing over her as her mind juggled into disorientation like the situation she was in. But she's known him longer to know that he knows his ropes. So with an eager grin, she nodded.
As he got permission to do something outlandish, his heart thumped loudly within as his mind flooded with how he'll make this grand — impress and take her breath away at his cool maneuvers. Intially though, he warned her to hold tighter as he is to take them deeper into the forest. One, no.. A millisecond came by and his speed increased and flicked pebbles and dust away from his paws so inhumanly, before one could say a word, they were in the forest, dashing past every leaves and branches professionally.
On the other side of the hill-forest, he halted himself on his tracks and panted. "That was fun, right?" he questioned, very proud at the spectacle he performed himself. But as he looked back, she no longer was there with him. Somehow, along the way, he lost her. As the wind fell flat and motionless, so had the wondrous piece the two of them orchestrated ended.
Everything in it crumbled upon his paws and sucked him into the abyss.
Sweetie saw Chase's gaze far from anywhere they were at. He was looking somewhere around the horizon, expressions eliciting forlorn aura. It bothered her to an extent and hopped off of the cushioned seat and lightly tapped his shoulders.
Flinching from touch, Chase gasped and looked at Sweetie, who looked nothing like her usual stern and firm upfront. Rather, her eyes were doe-eyed; it naught of will to be-little him and seemed that his rather unusual silence had troubled her.
"Bethink oneself to natter not a single dish, for it is bootless. Dewy eyes led the truth to fluoresce brighter than thy crown. "
Dumbfounded, that was Chase left with. This caused Sweetie to breathe out and carelessly mutter profanities concealed from coherence. "You austere imbecile.. I said I can see past those lies. So don't bother explaining why you're not somehow perturbed."
Chase remained quiet in place as it seemed he was caught red-handed by the pooch. He couldn't speak right as she had pinned him right where it hurts — its throbbing through these already faltering defenses.
"Is it because of her?"
"How did you know?"
"A little birdie told me. Then that just proves the rumors and assumptions true." she smirked triumphantly as the German Shepherd could only melt to the floor in embarrassment. About this time, he kind of wished he was tasked to labor in another field — like finding Chickaletta again. Where is that problematic chicken not off to? Right about now, Sweetie seems to be just lacerating her baby-sitter in unknown willful pleasure. If her plan is to scurry him away to leave her alone, then that's working wonders.
"Care to elaborate more on it? A good letting is refreshing. Besides, reflect on my history: I commit theft out of greed, not perjury. Even if I do though, it doesn't turn into my favor."
He hesitated; debating whether he should speak any of these to her. Not that he doesn't trust her nor looks at her lowly, but rather may brew jealousy between this triangular love once more. Plus, he isn't sure if this awful news would be a good omen to her and open an opportunity for her. But that will never be answered if he remains in the "what-ifs" territory.
"I've.. Said some horrible words to Skye. I was caught up with the memories flooding back into me and thought she was a threat. So I ended up hurting her even though it wasn't meant for her."
"Oh.. Right." There was guilt in her tone as she began to rub her nape as a diversion of the feeling that was occurring within her.
"But.. Are you candidly a good swain if you won't welcome your errs and be as resolute as a phoenix?" her soft and faltering tone immediately switched into a much firm and confident one. She dared look through his irises, trying to make him understand what she meant.
Yet again, Chase is baffled with her large vocabulary and metaphors. "You little—" Sweetie bit back her lips to refrain herself from releasing unneeded violent words. Truly, he was infuriating to talk with when his head's deeply underwater right now; he's apt most of the time, but the remaining bit of most is that very moment now.
Reminding herself to drop the formalities, she took a large breath and decided to restart again "I meant.. (you simpleton) That are you really a good man if you can't admit your mistakes? You're not completely perfect Chase. Sometimes, that crown will wobble. It's your duty to pick that shiny crown of yours and observe and reflect the things it's trying to show. Then only can you wear it with pride. Do you get what I mean?"
A rush of relief came hitting her when he nodded with a small smile, so that's something.
As Chase began to process what she had said, she allowed the silence to persist a little longer. Lately, she'd forgotten the beauty of it as so far as the days go by, it always had been hectic and full of business. Every night, she would fall asleep to the Princess' conversation at the throne room, or she would fall onto her mattress completely knocked out, that she couldn't enjoy the night's serenity.
She even halted her creative plans for now as she wanted to take the time and reflect on herself and the life given to her. But apparently, the Princess sees this allotted time differently and instead, perceived it as her pooch's way in making time for her. Yes, somewhat disappointed, but she did miss her solacing company after those periods of constant disagreements.
Looking back over to the canine beside him, his face told that he was concluding his thoughts already, and when it did, he smiled at her gratefully. It would be a lie if her heart did not flutter at the slightest.
"Hey," she elbowed him "How was my piano?" Chase chuckled at this as he knew that Sweetie's mom-mode had dissipated right in front of him as it won't be of use anymore.
"It was lovely Sweetie."
Tha-thump..
»»——⍟——««
Another day has come to set once more, and it had cast a weary concoction to everyone, even to those who live by couches — what awaits them is another complaint of simple things.
Marshall and Everest had arrived by the Look-Out really late that what they intended to be and had overlooked the hours they've spent at the restaurant. The first thing they had to face were the queries that will be bombarded at them regarding their absence. So along the way, they've already had an excuse to shield them from it.
Switching off the gears, the duo took a deep breath and hopped off Everest's vehicle. They looked at each other with hesitant regards; right now, they hoped that none of them would question the stiffness of their fur and its stench, if so, then their reasons must collide and align. Knowing them, they'll make a tissue into an issue.
"What about I stay behind for awhile? I'll wash up first so I can kind of remove the scent." Everest replies as they parted ways for now. The Dally went in to the look-out and everyone wasn't there. There's Rubble asleep on the couch from watching all the Apollo reruns, but everyone else were nowhere to be found.
He was relieved that he'll have some time to clean up and lessen the suspicions. But he wanted to eat first more than anything. Leaping onto the counters to grab his bowl, to his notice, he found a wrinkled mail — it had red ink that embossed important. He was to shrug it off, but the recipient was meant to be him.
Picking up the note, it read "To: Marshall | IMPORTANT! | From: Eirwen" he wondered what could be written on it. He was dreading to read its contents as he could already guess that it's related to someone he knows. Gulping, he tore the white envelope open and read it.
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