He stood there. The tall lady swung forth towards the man, she thought it was graceful and frightful. It was anomalous to him. They stood there, together, as she swept closer, her bespectacled eyes on him. And he just stood in afflictive silence. She was in front of him now, taking deep breaths as if she had danced an excruciating dance. She brushed up and behind him, her arms and fingers lithely swarming around the agitated man. He took in a stiff, choppy breath, and she stopped in front of him, purple eyes on purple. Her lips parted a little, face inching closer and closer to the other, making him sweat a bit more. The scent of her each breath was covered with appalling cherries, and her very fragrance she wore choked him. Her mouth opened a little more, to say something.
"You are very, very entrancing," Her voice had a whimsical feel; it sounded as if she were surfing the clouds.
He wasn't sure if she made a mistake for either interesting or enchanting, but for certain she was intruding too much on his personal space. He was nervous, definitely, she looked about ten years older.
"Excuse me," he managed to stammer. Her silk gloved hands traced his face.
Her head tilted down, then raised again, her wonder-filled eyes appearing bigger from the spectacles. She swayed her head from side to side, then, "Yes?" she asked in that dreamy soprano voice she possessed.
He gently pushed her away, not caring that it was impolite.
"Shikimi," a low, masculine voice called softly.
She turned on her heel, and shook her shortbob head like a wet cat, and spun away from the extremely uncomfortable man.
Morty was certain, Shikimi was the most bizarre of the ghost trainers by far. They only got stranger.
YEAH first Shikimi story on fanfiction... i think. I did this soo quickly. I just picture Shikimi being like this. I was praying for the ghost trainer for Isshu to be a guy, so Morty to have a friend, but it's another crazy old lady. Oh, and I am THE thesaurus abuser.