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Private/Closed As Thick as Thieves

Discussion in 'Pokémon Role Play' started by Storybook, Dec 4, 2016.

  1. (An RP between Storybook and @Chrocey )

    At its throat, it bears a bell of fire.
    - Sun's Pokedex


    The first thing that could be heard was the roar of the wind. Whistling, dashing, racing as crisp as sunlight through the empty boughs of the forest's trees, shivering skeletons squandered of their dying, brittle leaves. With it, the wind carried bits of dust, bygone stars, and trails of leaf mold cast from the earth, and together, the earth and the wind swept in out of nowhere and vanished, as similarly, into nowhere, a constant stream of past and present singed by frost in the cold, white air.

    The first that could be seen was a swift, black river, a shadow cast from the moon's nightly reign, endless and mysterious, flowing down the sharply jutted hill, for the cold's touch coaxed the earth into a candid realm. Bits of ice trailed in its waters, children of the frosted plains cast into its constant flow to dabble its surface with their toes and, drifting to the ocean, soon grow old. Shifting forever from past to future, waters running, ripples fading, ice growing from thin and fragile splinters of frost, and the first that could be seen was a swift, black river, and the first that could be heard was the roar of the wind.

    Edging delicately out of the fall season, Johto's Route 45 had become a desolately magical place. Crippled winter had traveled again out of the west to grace the world with her withered majesty, and the world was crisp and clear and true and silent, save for the wind and the water that told of time's pass. Still, the place held a sense of magnetism for trainers and tourists young and old. Perhaps this was because the route had changed after a number of years- its treacherous, one way road had been overshadowed by an easier to use, stone path carved out beside the river's ever deepening gorge, and although numerous strong Pokemon still loitered in its depths, they were largely cowed by the rise of a more urban life within the area, and newer trainers or those without Pokemon had become welcome travelers along its banks. In an attempt to preserve some of its wild roots, foreigners had planted hardy trees that soon sprouted into small groves at its edges, and the route, remaining stubbornly wild, became diverse in its utility to trainers and tourists alike. For the wonder-filled, it was a place of beauty. For the boisterous, it was a place for talent. For the quiet, it was a place of peace. For the travelers, it was a quick route to their next destination. But more often than not, its candid nature was not well received, and it had failed developer's plans for a more bustling attraction, for it forwent strengths for weaknesses and caused strife where the hardiest should have found none.

    To go there, a trainer and their partners had to be thick as thieves.

    The sound of a bell ducked into the wind's howl, ringing sharp as the frost's bite, its tones high and clear as if beckoning the world to be its challenger. Though the wind tore into its ring, a crisp bite to its voice, sharp as the popping of a raging bonfire, imposed upon the bell a sense of character, challenging the wailing howl with a knightly misdemeanor- a ring of focus, faith, and desire. Hurriedly dashing from past to present, the ring overtook the wind's river of a voice, and its sharp and clear tone grew laced with fire, as if a Rapidash parting the dark sea's flow. And then, it was as if the ring itself was the flame within its voice, and the wind stood back, partly in awe and partly aghast, as fire curled out of the flaming bell and wreathed around a set of dull white fangs, inducing a concentrated gleam akin to that of a beam of sun.

    Notes began to slink into the bell's high pitched ring- those of a parched bow stirring vibrations from a tautly set string. Rosin dust, as pale as snow, spun away from the bow as it drew from the string a cautious melody, trapped in an ethereal, minor cord. Somewhere beneath the ghostly, tired tones lay a dash of magic- of wonder and hope- that rose and spun and yet seemed hidden beneath the quickly moving cloak of bells and notes. Faster, then, the bow began to move, and it vied for a spot against the bell's ring until the air shook with vibrations, and the roar of the wind and the black gurgle of the river grew solemn beneath their tones.

    Again and again and again and again, ring of a bell and ethereally drawn string, words like ghosts hanging in the notes in a quickly escaping clothesline of melodies and fire. From past to present these songs dashed through the air, always escaping the ear as it drifted constantly into the future, and what was played was but a memory that seemed oh so real in its proximity to the present. Many might call it magic that it became a unified form at all within our closure seeking minds, for each part was played after the others had been already lost to time. And yet, measure after measure, ring after ring, put together only in memory...

    Again and again and again and again, ring of a bell and ethereally drawn string, practiced again and again and again in an attempt to capture them in the here and now. Fire leapt, chords dashed the sky, and still, they disappeared, and the girl and the Torracat were left chasing them forever. Chasing the magic of a fire and a string, because they loved them oh so dearly, and what they loved they'd chase to the ends of sky and back to keep safe within their palms.

    A fruitless task, a magical task, a hopeful task. A task where everything was always changing, and so where the chasers, and so was the chased.

    Climax reigned as the notes grew faster and the bell rang louder, and against each other they waged war within the air, for they were two different songs who couldn't quite figure out how to connect, nor considered that they should. And the notes spun quicker and faster and faster and the bow was but a servant to a pale skinned wrist as it flicked back and forth, back and forth, and the fingers curled and flicked and curled as the intervals decreased, faster and faster, and the bell spun its concentrated chord and the fire rose, flying again and again at a rock that was, for the hour, its target. Wreathed around a set of fangs, dull white, hot orange, fire spinning, spinning faster, spinning outlines on a face of ash that lay trapped beneath the fire's shadow, raging, wreathing gleaming fangs, servants to a sulfurous eye's grip, and yet not even a crack was sliced against its candid surface, and the fire spun and the bell rang, faster and faster, spinning quickly out of control, and the noise grew clamorous and broken and sick until, with a shout of frustration, it collapsed upon itself into silence.

    ''I give up,'' sighed the viola's player, laying her instrument back into its delicately frosted case. Her voice, dispirited and weary, seemed as ethereal as her music, haunted by an undertone as pale as dust. ''I don't get what I'm doing wrong.''

    The weary player had burdened, red hair cropped right above her shoulders, curled slightly at its tips as if in a constant, thoughtful breath, snaking in and out of one another. Her skin, sheltered by her curls, was a blushed, rosy pink haunted by a grayish undertone of wrinkles and age. Darkness circled lightly around her infinite eyes, a memory of thoughtless nights, and her eyes themselves were a somber blue, so deep in their cobalt stain that the light took it upon itself to trick the eyes into seeing more than what was actually there, to imagine such undertones of purples and greens that the eyes appeared as if galaxies encased in black holes. Her mouth was sunk in a contemplative frown as she lay upon the candid earth, rubbing, with one thumb, a polished shard of petrified wood that hung about her neck. Against her woolen overcoat, her hand was strikingly thin and sinewy, marred with callouses and thin, clipped nails. Her coat itself was made of a dense, woolen material, and upon its charred brown surface was the yellow pattern of a Stantler's horns, complete with the black balls that she'd always thought were the most enchanting part of the deer's hallucinogenic nature.

    The galaxy-eyed girl appeared to be around fifteen, and, from her snake like hair to her worn clothes, exuded a rather weary air. And yet, between her small stature and her constant, musty aroma, her weariness was countered by a sort of far off warmth, for she seemed as if a fading light circled by the dark, a galaxy trapped within her own black hole. She was, for certain, a creature with many sides, for she had grown up in a multi cultural hub where every piece was inspiringly unique, and yet none of it quite seemed to fit together.

    Lying upon the frost-dampened earth, her head resting on the closed case, she cast her eyes behind her to the fire-bearer, stricken with admiration at the frustration written upon his face, for it told of a persistent concentration she wasn't sure she could repeat. He was a rather large, feline creature, with rough-housed, black and orange fur that prided itself in its tangled demeanor, refusing to lie flat. This seemed worst upon the creature's chest, where orange fur proudly nestled a yellow, bell-like organ in a cove upon his chest, sheltering his heart of fire. The organ itself stared out into the world as the cat did, a distinct certainty in its gaze concocted from passion and pride alike, and when the girl looked for its attention, his gaze would look, with a warmth, upon her, running his tongue across his fangs and requesting a moment to let his fire raze the earth and his passion swell past the sky. Yet his attention didn't last for long, for he was a restless creature, kneading the earth with his strong forelegs and flicking his ears from the sky to the girl as his tail swung idly from side to side. Only in battles would he let his tail fall still, silent but for the ringing in the air.

    ''No luck either, huh, Ossie,'' the girl observed, voice bearing an ethereal warmth. ''Perhaps that Jinx we ran into laid a curse on us.''

    ''Mrowow-ower,'' the large cat responded with a gravelly purr, his tail flicking faster and faster in restless amusement, for the fire bearer could never sit still for long.

    ''We should head out,'' the girl commented, a smile in her distant tone. ''It's almost noon.''

    ---------------------------------

    Spinning speedily between the two, the wind picked up its pace, gathering bits of dust, fallen stars, to be swept into the sky. As they continued their travels upon the road beside the river, their footsteps were washed away by the gurgle of the black water, ice children eavesdropping upon the last of their conversation as they drifted on the current to melt within the sea.

    ''You know, Oscar, I'll never understand why you're so obsessed with battling.''

    ''Mroowr-owr-owr.''

    And their voices were stowaways upon the wind with its cargo of dead stars and fallen leaves as the girl and her partner were cast into time's endless ride, chasing each other into the present until

    all that could be heard was the roar of the wind, and all that could be seen was the swift, black river.
     
    #1 Storybook, Dec 4, 2016
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2016
    PentheWonderful and Chrocey like this.
  2. “Come on, Beedrill!” Delilah urged, “I think I heard it from over here!”

    Beedrill followed the child without question, keeping up with her as best he could. Something had gotten her particularly excited today, perhaps because this was her first day of not being in the Hoenn region. Fresh new ground to explore, and so many pokemon to observe and possibly capture.

    More than once the bug pokemon wondered if Delilah would catch a new companion. His feelings on the matter, though, had always been very divided. On the one drill, it meant that she would be even more protected. On the other drill, it also meant he would have to share his time with another. Of course, Beedrill knew full well that the latter was no reason to quell the enthusiastic girl’s ambitions.

    “We’re almost there! I can feel it!”

    The Beedrill hadn’t been informed on what exactly they were looking for, but part of him assumed that it would be a new bug Pokemon. Perhaps his suspicions were correct. Perhaps she was finally showing interest in something other than Beedrills.

    “See? Look!” Delilah stopped and pointed a stern finger off in the distance.

    A small wave of disappointment washed over Beedrill as all he saw were trees full of Kakunas. She was on a new island with so many new pokemon, and all she wanted to see was more Beedrill evolutions? The only outrage Beedrill felt was towards himself for not knowing her better by now.

    “Isn’t that cool? I mean, we’ve seen them in the Hoenn region, but it’s even cooler that they have them in the Johto region too!”

    The bug pokemon buzzed in response, feigning interest in the others of his kind. He stared at them for a moment too long and almost didn’t see that the dark skinned trainer was venturing toward the mass of Kakuna’s.

    Beedrill placed one of his drills on her shoulder to stop her from progressing. She looked up at him and cocked her head to the side. “What?” she said, holding her hands out and motioning towards her clothing, “I mean, I’m wearing yellow and black, that’s basically Beedrill camouflage.”

    Delilah shrugged off his drill from and continued onward. The bee pokemon looked on in concern. He wasn’t entirely sure what she said was true…

    ***

    The bug trainer ducked behind a bush, covering her head with her hands as the swarm of Beedrill zoomed forward to attack her. Beedrill, her Beedrill, hovered in place and fought off the swarm as they approached. He’d already fainted enough of them to the point that the others were much more hesitant with their attacks.

    “I’m starting to think that there was a very slight possibility you were right about not approaching them!” She shouted to her pokemon. He didn’t respond to her, he kept his eyes focused on the remaining Beedrill.

    They’d already chased the trainer away this far, which meant they were simply attacking out of irritation. If enough of them were defeated, surely they’d start to have enough sense to go back to their hive. There were just so many of them, too much for one pokemon to handle alone.

    Even with as much as she adored bug types, Delilah found their collective buzzing noise to be very hard on the ears.
     
  3. The Moon
    After writing poems all day,
    I go off to see the moon in the pines.
    Far in the woods I sit down against a pine.
    The moon has her porches turned to face the light,
    But the deep part of her house is in the darkness.
    —Robert Bly


    There was something inescapably exhausting about the wind that day. Blowing past shallowly frosted valleys, it sunk deep into the earth with a laden sigh in its endless howl, and as the candid land drove it high into the atmosphere, it purged the white washed sky of clouds in a heavy, trodden chariot ride of dust and debris, for although it was cold, there was little precipitation in the sky. She could almost hear a tiresome note to its howl, singing forever through the branches of the trees, burdened with the knowledge of every question's answer, of the sky and the earth and the past, knowing all but the future, for it seemed the one thing that none could predict.

    It was a curious thing, this unpredictability of time, that a tree may fall with no one around and yet we're unsure if it makes a sound, that a child will forever grow older but somehow never reach the dead sea on the same river it was spawned, for so numerous were life's tributaries that predictability itself had become unpredictable. And so curious was time that ages passed in human existence where common sense of one land proved false in another, and people would forever grow old in their finite lives yet somehow dreamed of the infinite, of immortality and horizons that stretched on forever. How curious was time, that it drifted with such consistency and yet was found riddled with the inconsistencies of magic and tragedies, and how curious was the world, that it was so small and yet so large, that people were found to be so close, but separated into galaxies all of their own, flawed in the simple fact that they were all different beings.

    Perhaps the wind wasn't tired, rather she was the one who found herself fatigued, as if made of limbs of aged stone that had splintered into charred debris. The girl was, after all, rather short when compared to most of her age, and although she had particularly strong endurance, it wasn't so powerful that she could walk the whole day through this frost bitten route and not fall fatigued. Perhaps this was why, when examined beneath the night's ashen light, she appeared so ghostly, with burnt out skin and thin, skeletal fingers running so nimbly over their string that it was easy to forget the power beneath their grip. With eyes like the galaxy trapped in a black hole, hair of a basilisk frozen in a thoughtful breath, form so feeble and clothes with such a burnt hue, it seemed possible to forget that there was such a person beneath the charred figure, such a spirit beneath the weary lines of her smile, such a magic hiding in the core of the moon. Yes- the moon, she was as the moon, for she seemed as dusted, ancient, and weary as the pining face of the night.

    Time was a curious, fickle thing, and the girl had found power in chasing it and lust in its endless quest of piecing together the fragmentation of music, memory, and love, because she was an endurant, stubborn girl, and anything she loved she'd chase to the sky and back to keep safe within her palm. Perhaps this was why she seemed so tired- yes, she had been running for a long, long time, chasing after the future in an attempt to keep her love in the present, for all changed without effort to remain the same.

    A low hum entered the wind, edging a tireless note into the wind's tired howl, and the girl found that it didn't seem quite as wearisome as before, and although they had traveled a good hour's distance since lunch, she found the soles of her feet relieved of their slight ache the more she walked beside the river. Of course, it hadn't all been walking, and the girl had her partner to thank for that. No form of truth could deny his restlessness, and she was afraid she wouldn't live to see the day that he would be able to keep a straight pace.

    She watched his subtly flicking tail with a small smile, the lines beside the ethereal player's mouth deepening into refinement, for she had that sort of tired smile where shadow-like wrinkles were cast across the corners of her lips. Just as similarly, they seemed to deepen as she frowned, an act in which the moon-like girl soon found herself endorsing, for her eye was quick to pick up the growing distance between her and the Torracat's ever faster flicking tail. He was picking up his pace.

    There comes that weariness again.

    Oh, but she loved her big ol' Flammeherz, or flame heart, as her mother would call him. Her mother had always loved her native language, going as far as to teach German to the player ever since she was young. It had never really become endorsed in her every day speech, but rather, it was almost as if a language of love, to be used only when spurred on by the heart's threadbare beat.

    ''Oscar, we're never going to get anywhere if we start running, neither of us have the endurance to- Oscar? Oscar! Oscar! Where are you going?"

    There was a buzzing in his ears. Tumultuous, chaotic, growing greater as he raced off the path to swerve into a looming grove, and the fire-hearted feline knew exactly what it meant. He couldn't control his racing heart as the feline parted his jaws ever so slightly, rolling the wind across his tongue with a dull gleam of his white fangs. Yes- the buzzing, pouring onto the air such vibrations that it sent shivers up his spine, a battle, a battle, finally, a battle! To dash into the melee of wind and fire and pour his heart into his flames, to concentrate with such focus that none existed but you and your opponent and you were alone in a world of pure concentration, to fulfill the luster of his muscles, to cure the greed in his restless heart, to be freed from the leash of a pace and a path, to hear the ringing of that bell-!

    And so it rang, a splinter in the sound of the irritating buzzing, and then it grew until it was as an ax against a tree of spine chilling shuddering, and then, the bell rang true as a ray of sun against the shadow that was the bug pokemon's fervorous chatter and it became a character of its own, laden with lust and a knightly misdemeanor. His breath leapt heavy into the air as the focused cat dashed between the trees, feeling his footsteps as if a heartbeat in the chaotic cauldron of wind and bugs and fire, one two, one two, ba-dum, ba-dum, and with a last, voracious, maddened ring, fire wreathed from the bell to glance off his dull white fangs and the Torracat leapt out from the bushes to face the perpetrator of that buzz. He barely noticed as his tail swept past the face of a retreating trainer, fire masking an ashen face commanded by sulfurous eyes.

    Oscar stumbled with a frustrated growl as he came face to face with a horde of Beedrill, taken aback, for a moment, with surprise at the sudden climax the situation had put him in. Twisting his front paw into the earth, the fire bearer ducked low as he found two of the bugs upon him, and he narrowed his sulfurous, commanding eyes behind his mask of fire. The fire bearer's tail swished from side to side, disappointed at the hesitance in their attacks. What was a battle that had already been beat?

    The ethereal player wasn't quite sure what her friend was preparing to do as he leapt from the two's attacks into the middle of the hoard, but she was glad she had caught up in time, even if her lungs weren't nearly as pleased, and neither was her back, what with her small pack and viola case rapping against it for the whole run. Nevertheless, it didn't take the girl long to decipher the situation, for although she didn't quite understand the point or power of battle, she certainly had the skills to conduct one. Those just so happened to be the ones also useful in playing viola; a quickness to her eyes that almost matched that of her fingers and an almost muscle memory of past experiences and songs allowing for fast conclusions and a faster reaction time. Still, the ethereal player wasn't exactly thrilled to be dropped into this position, and she tucked her frozen red hair behind her ears with a deepening frown.

    ''Wait, Oscar, shouldn't we take a step back and think this- duck, there's one to your left, for Arceus' sake, stop using Fire Fang, you've barely used it before and it's putting you at risk of their drills. Use Ember- there you go- hey, hey, stop, that one is on your side!'' This comment came after a near hit of Ember on what appeared to be a Beedrill that had been fighting the hoard before they arrived. ''Keep looking at the sky, right on...'' the girl's voice lowered on that last line, for she had been shouting above the cacophony of the buzzing and his bell, although her voice had managed to keep its thin layer of sound that gifted it such an ethereal appeal.

    Recognizing that Oscar had found the right focus for the task, the girl turned to what appeared to be the Beedrill's trainer. She looked on at the scene for a moment, finding that the hoard had a rather heavy presence much like the tired chariot of the wind, implying a brevity to their attacks and their existence. Granted, it seemed to her that the feline didn't mind so much, for he moved with such focus and precision that it seemed as if to draw the whole world into his bubble where time stopped but for the ringing of a bell.

    ''Right on.''

    And then, as she spoke more directly to the girl, a curious change came upon her voice. Inflections, hidden beneath her tones, rose to dominance in subtle bites beneath her voice, almost as if a challenge to whom she spoke. Not the challenge of a knight, but that of confidence that betrayed an uncertainty of self, as if there could be a galaxy within a black hole only if someone first questioned it's existence. Despite this, her voice melted beneath that of the fire bearer's bell, struggling for power against its domineering ring.

    ''No time like the present, eh?- Oscar, to your right, boy- Call me Thea. Thea Rhearn.'' The girl, whose struggling voice was raised once more in an attempt to crowd out the buzzing, held out her wiry, calloused hand to the Beedrill's trainer (well, the one at least, although she'd certainly have a story to tell if she'd met a girl who'd owned a whole horde of Beedrill that suddenly went mad on her). As only seemed fitting for the ethereal player, her hand, wrist, and arms were significantly stronger than the rest of her body, and she was rather proud of her firm handshake that had become a mark of the Rhearn family.

    After all, familial ties were admittedly weak, but the Rhearn's had always taught their children the right and proper way to greet someone, at least in their own opinion. It didn't matter if you were against a Beedrill hive or at death's gate, you just must introduce yourself, and it was absolutely vital to do it quickly, be yourself, and never forget to shake hands. After all, you were you, and it seemed vital to try and stay you. Without character, there was only sin.

    Without impressions, there was only shadow.

    ''I do hope you're not hurt, are you?''
     
    #3 Storybook, Dec 13, 2016
    Last edited: Dec 16, 2016
    Chrocey likes this.
  4. Every minute felt like seconds, and Beedrill was still holding his ground. He now had enough time between attacks to look over at Delilah and try to encourage her to command him. He was capable of fighting on his own, but it felt improper since most of his life was spent obeying commands from Delilah’s father. Besides, a pokemon without help from its trainer was as good as wild.

    Delilah wasn’t having it, however. She peered over the bush she was hiding behind, and watched Beedrill continue to fight his own battle. Occasionally, she would shout out words of encouragement, but not any moves that Beedrill knew; spouting things like ‘give it your best shot!’ or ‘yeah! Do that again!’

    Suddenly, a pokemon that Delilah had never seen before appeared, leaping into the middle of the swarm and summoning quite a few fiery attacks that were effectively either fainting or chasing away the attackers. If the Beedrill weren’t nervous before, they certainly were now.

    One of the attacks had gotten dangerously close to Delilah’s Beedrill, and he backed away with wide eyes that twitched nervously. He and fire weren’t exactly on the best of terms. More than that, though, the bug pokemon grew concerned for his trainer, and how she might be reacting to this Torracat.

    Delilah watched the flames, mesmerized. She’d almost ignored the girl that now stood by her and offered a friendly hand. The dancing flames reflected in her eyes, which were now like portals into her memories.

    She may not have been close to the flames, but even so her skin felt tingly and hot. The young girl opened and closed her hand mindlessly in an attempt to make sure her blood was circulating.

    Suddenly, the real world warped back to her. She was awake from her trance. The bee enthusiast stood and turned to face Thea with confident eyes. As if she resolved to ignore some sort of horrible situation that was happening next to them.

    “Thea Rhearn?” Delilah echoed, “it’s nice to meet you!”

    The bee-themed trainer gripped Thea’s hand with hers and shook it firmly. It was hard not to notice just how strong the other girl’s grip was, but looking at the amount of muscle she was sporting on her arms, such strength was understandable. Delilah had thought about working out her upper-body too one day, but at the moment, her main focus was speed.

    “You might already know who I am, but just in case, let me introduce myself!”

    Delilah’s Beedrill turned his attention toward her and waved his drills in a fruitless effort to stop what was about to occur. Normally, he could put up with her flashy introduction, but not at such a critical moment. Especially since it would likely result in the young eccentric catching the attention of the aggravated swarm.

    Yet, the tame Beedrill knew that there was no stopping her. Instead, he readied himself. Also keeping an eye on the Torracat for any stray flames hurdling in his direction.

    “I am the great Bumble Bee! Bug-pokemon trainer extraordinaire!” She exclaimed. Immediately, one of the attackers tried to swish by and sting her. Delilah’s Beedrill quickly reached out, interlocked their drills, then swung the wild bug into another one that was, not surprisingly, also trying to attack his trainer.

    “If you haven’t heard of me yet, then prepare to be amazed,” Delilah continued before motioning to the empty space next to herself. “Your defeat will sting worse than the Beedrill at my side!”
    After a brief pause, the bug trainer realized her companion was not beside her. Instead, he was still defending her from the attacking swarm. He’d just used Twin Needle to faint two more Beedrill before one by one the stragglers started retreating back from whence they came.

    “Well...not at my side,” Delilah corrected and pointed a finger at her Beedrill, “your defeat will sting worse than the Beedrill over there. The one sticking around, not any of the retreating--ah, forget it.” She waved her hands dismissively, before returning her attention to the trainer that had come to her aid. “Thanks for helping me out. To answer you question, no, they didn't lay a scratch on me...but I'm kind of surprised that they even tried to. Those Beedrill probably just don’t recognize me, since I’m new these lands.”

    Now exhausted from the fight, Beedrill looked over to Delilah once more, acknowledging that she was okay, then turned his attention towards the Torracat. He nodded his head at the feline in a friendly manner, his own way of graciously saying ‘thank you’.
     
    Merciless Medic likes this.
  5. Winter, it seemed, was drawing deeper by the hour, chilling the air with an iced over chuckle, coaxing a brittleness into the dry grass with a breath of frost. Each time the girl stepped, or adjusted her stance, the earth crinkled like aluminum foil, and she found it curious how supporting the grass with the most minuscule of crystals could steal away its spring, as if making it stronger hurt it more than when it was weak and flexible. And then, how satisfying it was to roll the crunch of the ground beneath her heels- the grass would recover, anywho. Unlike mammals, it appeared that simplicity aided the hardy plant- so much so that it could cover the whole earth, from coast to coast, even in the sea, at times. The less cogs it had, the more powerful it grew. It was like an infection, the grass was, and the girl wondered why humans were said to be the dominant race on earth when grass had been everywhere first.

    Distraction marked the girl with a watercolor stain, leaving such an ethereal, powerful creature out of the loop for just a moment, so enthralled was she by the voice of the grass, a story of a present always racing from the past, a music all to its own. Before her the young woman captured the moment with an enthusiasm that took the player aback but for a moment, and the wind swept its way over the earth, stealing the voices of the moment as the world turned. She smiled, the wrinkles around her lips deepening as if in a universe all to their own.

    “You might already know who I am, but just in case, let me introduce myself!”

    Buzzing, like a shuddering form of wind, spoke to the player as the young woman began, causing Thea to evade comprehension in a swarm of worry before the ringing of a bell, clear and powerful as courage, set fire to her doubt. She focused on the trainer before her, shifting her stance to better support the weight of her viola as she rested her right elbow upon her fingers, bringing one hand to her face and covering the growing smile behind her caved in palm.

    Nervous energy whispered its worries, yet the girl found herself restraining a chuckle at the performance, and her grin grew wider until the wrinkles at the edges of her mouth deepened to such an extent that they almost appeared to fade away. She was amused, perhaps, but even more, Thea felt herself giddy with the power of the trainer's... enthusiasm. Her voice was so exciting, like the fire bell, strong and resolute- or was it all just hubris, a podium, a statue- who cared? When worry was put aside, it had such power, even if tempered by the youth of the trainer and the failure of her to understand just how dangerous it could be to stand out.

    It took a moment for the player to gather her thoughts for a response. The dying buzzing did not assist. Had she heard one order issued from this trainer? If this were the case, would it have been their disaster? Was it right for to judge, or to interfere?

    ''Well then, I'll have to consider it an honor to meet you, Bumble Bee,'' she responded, moving her hand from her mouth to her shoulder, hearing her voice echo in her own head. ''It's always a pleasure-'' Thea gestured at Oscar ''-although I didn't have much to do with it.'' Considering the trainer's claim to her fame among the twin needle pokemon, she added, ''even friends can seem like strangers at times, although I'm pretty sure they don't actually know who you are.'' Inflections punctured her words, remnants of strength in an ethereal tone.

    ''Hm,'' the girl thought for a moment, twisting her lip as she stared at the retreating swarm, mentally preparing herself in case of a return. Silently, she plotted a path into the future, amending their journey to accompany the event and taking the opportunity to study the Beedril, both wild and tame. She'd never seen them so close before.

    Before the player could speak again, her attention was drawn by a low churring sound, a gurgle at the back of her partner's throat. With his flame diminished, the large feline paced up to the group, frost burning his fur lad paws. The sun glinted off of the candid earth, revealing a layer of undertones beneath his black coat resembling a manner of mottled spots, grays and browns twisted into the mass of black fur as the sable twitched his tail, breeze billowing over his sensitive shock of whiskers. He returned the thankful nod from the Beedril by rearing up on his hind legs, just meeting the height of the hovering bug type, and glancing his cheek off of one of the drills, and the churr of his voice resumed. It was a curious noise, Thea had decided- almost like the chirping of a bird, or the nightly clamor of a Kricketune. She beamed at him, covering her mouth with one hand as if ashamed of her joy. The fire hearted beast twitched an ear with a frown, the churr ceasing from his voice. Why was his Thea so.... Thea? So shrouded by herself, she was a universe all to her own, she could have fire and heart and stop the world with her passion, like he- she was a galaxy! A galaxy surrounded by a black hole.

    The etherwal girl was about to turn her attention back to the trainer, beginning to say something with a "so-" when the fire hearted pokemon, having sat down for a solid half a second, butt his head against her hip. She stumbled, feeling the hard bone of his skull push her to the side, already tired off the silence in the air. "Os, be still for just a- Os," she repeated after another push, watching his tail twitch restlessly over the frost held ground.

    "I'm afraid we're either going to have to find the road here fairly soon or get sucked into another battle," she admitted, ignoring a third headbutt to her leg. The feline soon tired, having made his point, and set his sulphur gaze roaming, peering between the bushes and trees.

    "Which way are you headed? It's been a while since I've had the chance to walk with someone."
     
  6. ((I believe I may have beaten the record on longest time to reply lol no worries if you don't wanna continue xD))

    “Yeah, I guess I kinda did carry most of the weight in that battle, didn’t I?” Delilah remarked, looking up thoughtfully for a second. “Your skills are good, but you definitely need to get a handle on your Torracat. I mean, look at Beedrill and I! We’re so like-minded that I don’t even have to tell him anything for him to win a battle for me!”

    Delilah looked to Beedrill and gave him a wink with a thumbs up. Beedrill simply glared at her in response, disbelief and disagreement written all over his face.

    “But don’t worry, Thea!” Delilah got up beside the other trainer and gave her a firm pat on the back. “You’ll be as good as me one day!”

    Upon Oscar running his cheek against the Beedrill’s drill, the bug pokemon tilted his head to the side. It was interesting to him how some mannerisms seem to differ between various species. It was about as different between he and this feline than it was between Delilah and Thea.

    “And yeah. Those Beedrill were in the presence of awesome. Even if they didn’t know it, they definitely do now.” The tan trainer pointed a confident thumb towards herself. “I’d run away too if I were fighting me!”

    As Oscar began headbutting Thea, Delilah let out a chuckle. He had about as much fight in him as she did, it seemed. Albeit, she certainly wouldn’t be reaching out to pet him any time soon.

    Thea then reminded the trainer of something that she’d almost forgotten.What was the whole reason she came out here? It definitely wasn’t just to find Beedrill.

    She looked up in thought for a moment, scratching the side of her head. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and her expression brightened. “Aha! That’s right!”

    With a renewed vigor she proudly proclaimed, “I’m on my way to Goldenrod City! Beedrill and I are going to visit the Name Rater guy. Everyone keeps saying that I need to give Beedrill a real nickname, so I figure if anyone could help me come up with a great one it’d be him!”

    Delilah smiled a broad toothy smile. “How about you? Where are you headed? I don’t mind having a sidekick during my journey to the city! Might come in handy if any more pokemon decide to challenge me.”
     
    Merciless Medic and Storybook like this.

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