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Tall Tales Just some tales and stories I work on in spare time, depending on my boredom level.


a labyrinth fae
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Hearing about Clyde's parents did put a damper in mood. She had never been too appreciative of her own family. She wished there were something she could say to make things better, but there truly was nothing you could say unless you understood what it was like to lose a parent as well.

The idea of regal changed to a bit vain, but her own pokemon might have had the same attitude if she was dead and they lived. She was taken aback when it spoke. It was not the first time she had seen a pokemon speak. Mew-two have been capable of complete and intelligent speak and even every here and there Murkrow could say a few words, repeating them like a parrot might have. But the aerodactyl spoke as Mew-two might and his speech revealed more and more of his personality. She understood where the pokemon was coming from, but clearly Clyde only had the idea of getting on the move in his mind. She especially didn't like when he cuffed the pokemon with his boot, on the nose. There was only way to appease such a great pokemon and that was to do as he wanted. As Clyde handed the situation over to her, Mimzy walked straight past aerodactyl and the knight to the area that had been scorched by where Clyde's father had been burnt on a pyre.

Mimzy knelt and began paying her respects to the dead. After a few silent moments there, she slowly got up, dragging the base of shortstaff along the stone. As she did, vines began snaking out, coiling around the stone, under it, and penetrating deep into the ground. Buds formed along the vines before opening large violet flowers, that had exotic fringing. They would hold fruit eventually, but it was the appearance that Mim was focused on. "A shrine should be beautiful, representing the life that the person lived," she said before making her way toward aerodactyl. She gave a proper bow to the behemoth, before sharing the predicament. "Ho-oh has gone missing and a darkness grows in the east. We would not stir you from your mourning if the situation were not dire. We much get to the lands north of the mountains as soon as possible. Jeg ber deg fra hjertet," she requested in the northerner tongue. Almost everyone spoke common, but they also had a language of their own.

"You are our only way to get across the mountains. We would not be as insolent as to stir you unless it were dire."




 
 
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