Celia's plump black lips pressed against the rim of her ceramic white mug as she drank deeply. Steam wafted off of the pale brown liquid interlaced with sworls of milk and melted marshmallows while it drizzled down the Flareon's throat.

She sighed contentedly as she settled back into her crappy plastic lawnchair and twiddled her toes in the desert sand. "We're barely cracking triple digits out here! I thought Orre was supposed to be blistering, not bone-chilling! Some vacation this turned out to be." The Fire-Type shuddered as she tugged down the sleeves of her sweater with her free hand.

Art by an unnamed amazing artist!