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 Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 7:12 pm
Throughout history change is rarely met with open arms. Often change is met with war, riots and protests, many of which not of the peaceful sort. One party demands change, the other resists, tensions rise until violence and bitterness erupts and nothing is settled until both parties are licking their wounds and come to some form of compromise. However this time the change was a potentially dangerous one, one that struck fear into many despite their smiles and friendly words. Many began to whisper about the threat of these new, humanized Pokemon, creature that used to be pets or tools suddenly becoming human and working alongside them.
However those secretive whisperings fell on unintended ears more often than not. A few gijinka, having already been mistreated by their owners before they became humans, began to plot amongst themselves, began to gather power and resources and band together. Humans didn't pay much attention to a few of these humanized Pokemon disappearing; why would they? In fact it put them more at ease when the more violent or less friendly began to turn up missing without a trace, all their possessions gone.
To any on the outside it wouldn't seem like anything unusual was going on, but there were those that watched, those who saw and who put together the puzzle of what was actually occurring. Slowly they came together, Pokemon and Human alike, they formed an organization, they grew, they united and they waited. What were they waiting for? Why they were waiting for the strike of a match, the smell of gunpowder in the air, the scent of ozone that indicated a coming of something violent, something world shattering. One of them sensed that they were on the cusp of it, that he could taste the building energy in the air, and thus he went out into the world to prepare for what was to come.
-----
Castelia City. When it comes to markets, transportation, and all things related to Pokemon it is completely unrivaled. Its citizens can be seen bustling to and fro constantly, always on the move, always too busy to slow down for anyone. However this day was a little bit different from the norm, leaving the streets oddly quiet, at least for Castelia. Crowds were forming in the center of the city, all eyes fixed on a stage occupied by a man with a microphone.
There was a strange event going on that day, one which left both humans and pokemon glancing at each other in confusion, anxiety or intrigue. Around the courtyard several booths had been set up, each with slowly forming lines. The man's voice carried across the courtyard, attracting people despite their initial trepidations:
"We are at a cusp, and now is the moment of reconciliation!
Neighbours, lend your strength to your fellow, so that they may bear with you
in your times of weakness-- discard not another for the quality of their birth. As
pokemon, as humans, we who walk together and share the burden of progress
must help each other out."
He didn't seem to need to pause for breath, just let his voice carry across the courtyard, swept into the crevices and towards the faces of those both eager to accept his knowledge and those who were unwilling still to let his words unlock whatever kindness might lie dormant within. Finally, as if to punctuate, he spread his arms to the crowd, beaming, his eyes to each booth as he introduced it.
"Neighbours, we are building a community in this courtyard today.
See that booth there? If you have a strong body, a steadfast mind,
lend your strength in general work-- you, powerful neighbours,
will build the foundwork for prosperity with your sweat and muscle."
He gestured to the next booth.
"If you have a heart but not much of a stomach for battle, don't worry!
Medical assistance is a necessity in this day and age,
and not everyone can make it to a hospital or a pokecenter
in time-- that's where you come in!"
Some seemed confused about that booth; was that a problem really? Could some not make it in time...? The notion of being injured without care baffled some of the bystanders.
"Finally, we can all use a little help, sometimes:
that's where the third booth comes into play. Trainers of all
shapes and sizes, feel free to help relate to pokemon and facilitate
their adaptation into society. If you know a trainer with a kind heart
and some time to spare, feel free to direct them there!"
His voice seemed to rest, for a moment. He was positively brimming with encouragement, and lines continued to form in front of each booth.
Everyone was so caught up in everything that was happening that nobody saw the figure watching from the shadows, red eyes gleaming in the darkness. He noticed that both Humans and Gijinka seemed drawn to the event, noted a few that he had even seen before and nodded to himself. It seemed that everything was coming together, at least for now, and thus, he slipped back behind a building, disappearing from view completely.
(( OOC: What you choose to do at this point is entirely up to you. You may join the coalition to help with the unity of humans and Pokemon or wait, as there is another faction as well. If you have an anti-human Pokemon feel free to disrupt what's going on. You may play those who are staffing booths in your posts. ))
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 10:30 am
Ruaidhrí had a belly full of food, and he could not be happier. Well, he could probably be happier, if he wasn't wandering around in a daze-- today had been an unusual yield, and completing odds and ends for people meant that he had an okay sum to take back with him. He could eat normally for a few days! There wasn't a lot of work suited for a "hero," especially when Rua could be so outwardly shy.
While wandering around in the daze, he heard a man's voice, carrying across some kind of courtyard. When he arrived, he had to wiggle his way through, somehow, trying to mind his wing. It was rather painful both to collide with and to have it collided into, after all. His halo marked him rather obviously for non-human status, even if the large stone-like protrusions didn't give him away. His gold jewelry glinted in the light, along with his hair, as he finally found a spot in the sun to listen to the man.
"Neighbours, lend your strength to your fellow, so that they may bear with you in your times of weakness--" The man on stage was directing to the crowd. Looks like he'd gotten there just in time, and Rua didn't really listen to the rest of the speech, except to know Yes! This is me! What better for someone who wanted to be the hero so badly than to take up a just cause? And he was never much good with medical... or talking, so it looked like he'd have to volunteer for the physical aspect. Although he wasn't exactly the most buff, Rua's wiry strength and combat training would have to be a use to someone, wouldn't they?
He made his way towards the Booth for physical labour, mulling around it until he thought he saw a flash of orange hair which would herald his friend, Mui, whom he liked to call prince-- a joke, sort of, because Rua felt like the flashy young man should be a prince, whereas Rua was just... well, he was Rua.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 11:57 am
Ahhhh work was finally over! Early than usual, too! But that was mostly because well, there wasn't much else to do! Monet had done all he possibly could for the agency, gotten all schedule books caught up, clothing racks in order, papers filed appropriately, and updated new clients! Besides, there was a large trip that would go underway tomorrow. So he had a nice little break for a few days! He could enjoy a few days of pampering, as well as catching up with his past caretakers. Speaking of which... he'd texted one of them, the wife, earlier in hopes of getting a cup of coffee with her! Reaching into the small pockets that barely served much purpose, due to how... short his shorts were, he pulled out the aquatically decorated cellular device, and checked the new unread message that was dancing around the screen.
His reading glasses were still in tact on the bridge of his nose as he read it, thumbs flying skillfully along the keypad. In truth he didn't really need to watch, but it was good to just in case a few letters were keyed in too soon or late. The long tail behind him slunk and snaked slowly, scales glistening like freshly pressed glass, along with the patches dawned at cheeks and shoulders. They sparkled as the light grazed them, giving him a semi-sequenced appearance, even reflecting their colour onto the pavement before him. Long legs crossed fluidly, gladiator clad feet placing with a natural softness. It was clear that his grace was instilled perhaps at birth. Even his long pale hair fluttered softly with the lazy wind that tumbled by ever so often. Passerby's would sneak glances at the beauty, but he didn't give them too much mind at the moment as he headed further into the heart of the bustling city. Once the text was sent, the phone was stuffed into his pocket, glasses pushed up to rest atop his head. It also served to keep any fly aways from getting in his face. Man was the day beautiful~ Perhaps he'd visit the dock's later on, and watch the sea. How he loved the ocean...
The shiny Milotic's seafoam green gaze was drifting from side to side of the two towering walls that were buildings lined beside him. He'd check for any sales that might be going on, or any new lines of clothes that'd just been swapped in. This was his favorite street to walk along. Especially since the cute little ice cream vendor was there too! she was always so perky and sweet, that he often times visited her to have long conversations about what was hot and what was not! Unfortunately, her shift wasn't until later, and with him leaving work early well.. he didn't get to see her. But his attention was swiftly grabbed by a distant, and muffled... voice...
Instantly intrigued, as it wasn't often you heard someone shouting around here asides for holiday's and celebrations, Monet made a straight beeline for the center of the civilization. A few other folks were following his same train of thought, drawn to the now visible crowd surrounding a stage, with a very enthusiastic man preaching. Taking a stance in the crowd casually, Monet had no problem seeing what was going on, what with his towering 6'3 height. A hip popped to the side as he watched, one arm crossing over his torso to support the bent elbow of his other, which in turn allowed that hand to let slender fingers tap along his chin with curiosity. My, my.... what was all this about? He'd heard a little of what the man had been speaking of... actually... a bit more than that. In his line of work, it was normal that gossip would spread like wild fire.
In fact.. now that he listened more, his ex-human caretakers had spoke of rumors they'd heard relating to this topic... they'd shown some concern, but not much more on the matter. Monet loved them like they were his parents... When he was a Milotic, they'd treated him so well, and even today he was still indebted to them! They gave him the life he had today.. His gaze trailed off to watch those slowly drifting to the three booths that were set up, and at the same time felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He'd check it later... He slowly began to tour the two booths that were designated for him. Well... he really wasn't very buff, or muscular, aside from the lean muscle that came from swimming all his life. But he was confident in his abilities as a Special Attacker. Besides... he was very much a hands on kind of guy. Healing, well... he wasn't a healer, that was for sure. Sure he was caring, and nurturing, but... he didn't like being on the sidelines.
And so he decided to take line in the booth for battling. Surely his manipulation with water would come in handy. And he had some ice to boot! As he took his place behind a ruby-haired gentleman, he noticed that he too was of the Milotic's kind. Tail winding slowly, his jewelry hanging at his fin chiming, as well as the bangles on his arms clinking as his arms shifted to lay at his asides, a charming smile grew onto Monet's lips, "Good choice~" he commented lightly, in regards to the booth that the Shedinja had chosen.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 3:25 pm
It was business as usual for the Snivy - truth be told, there was never a moment when it wasn't business for the grass gijinka. If this particular male was not working or at the very least contemplating such a thing, then there was something clearly wrong with him. This in mind, it should have come without surprise that the gijinka now found himself in Castelia City... admittedly it wasn't his perferred territory but it was the central business hub of this region and as a consequence, he was required to partake in the occasional meeting within the city.
Alas, this afternoon was somewhat unique for the snivy as he had never before been so bold before. Well, that wasn't strictly true, he had been so bold and had made many gambles but given the circumstances, this was completely new territory for him. For the purposes of his upcoming business interview he had brought a companion with him... An individual who was renowned for his rather peculiar tendencies aka he was an avid exhibitionist and nine out of ten times there was absolutely nothing that the Snivy could do to stop him!
He'd brought the porygon.
Said porygon's name was Insidia, and for the passed six months or so, had been a source of frustration for Narcissus for one reason only - it was a battle every morning to make him put clothes on.
Nevertheless Narcissus had been fortunate throughout the last few hours as the Porygon gijinka had been so utterly fascinated by the railway network , and the overwhelming amount of technology within the city, that he had been very well behaved. He hadn't asked any ridiculous questions, he hadn't wandered off and even more surprising for Narcissus, was that Insidia hadn't even attempted to unbutton his shirt. Clearly, the cure for Insidia's exhibitionist tendencies were to completely overwhelm the sensory units that were still somehow embedded in his newly formed, organic body.
"Insidia," Narcissus remarked, glancing over his shoulder at the Porygon who had once again paused to examine a gadget attached to the wall. "Hurry up or we'll be late," he continued.
"We will be late anyway," Insidia responded in his usual, wistful tone. Without turning his head, he lifted his hand to his crystaline ears and stroked gently at them. There was a momentary pause and then the small screen that should have displayed a generic series of adverts flickered to life, flashing up what appeared to be CCTV images of the center of town - the very direction they were heading in.
There were hundreds of people.
Everywhere.
"When in the - " Narcissus croaked and shook his head, positively baffled by the display. "Is there some sort of festival on today?"
"According to the data I can retrieve..." Insidia paused as he always did when recalling vague information. "There is not."
"Utter bullshit," the Snivy announced darkly, lifting a hand to rake his fingers through his hair. "The entrance is in that bloody square too," he snapped and shook his head. Backing away from the screen, he then proceeded to stalk away from the Porygon and the screen. Insidia paused for an instant and then followed at a pace that indicated that he did not have the same urgency as his counterpart.
"Find a way through, Sid!" Narcissus snapped, glancing over his shoulders with a rather displeased expression, particularly when he rounded the corner and saw just how massive the crowd was. Matters were only made worse by the individual on the stage and the tail end of the speech he had made managed to meet the Snivy's ears.
Charitable requests were never good for his moods - he just didn't do charity.
"One moment please," Sid replied as he drew to a halt beside the angered snivy, evidently unfazed by the rising temper...
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 3:28 pm
 Muirín meandered down Mode Street, grinning ear to ear over what he held clasped in both hands. For ages, he'd been wanting after this prize... and now it lay before him, his victory complete, his trials come to fruition, and now he had only to revel in this fruit of his labor. Yes, that's right, after months of careful planning... Muirín had finally bagged himself a Casteliacone. Every time he'd come to Castelia City, which was quite often, given the number of friends he had who operated out of and near the bustling port, the line had always been far too long for him to even get close. He'd lusted after one, though, from the moment he'd laid eyes on the stand, from the moment he'd been told just what was sold at that busy, busy stand. Ice cream... he'd never had ice cream before. Not until now. He'd been watching for days, at every available opportunity, and when there had been but a moment of opportunity... he'd struck out.
And now he walked back towards the center of town, savoring his victory a moment before finally partaking in it. He gulped down a great, frozen mouthful, and immediately regretted the decision as his entire world went white with pain. He'd never had ice cream before, and this meant he'd never had brain freeze before. As much as he loved new things, he was starting to realize more and more that not all novelties were as wonderful as they seemed.
As the pain subsided, he rediscovered the desire to eat more of his hard-won prize, both because it was mighty delicious and because of all the work he put into obtaining it... In equal parts. Possibly feeding off of each other. He didn't know. Could he just like the taste? Was that okay? That was okay, he thought, to just enjoy something sweet like ice cream. Half the fun of the adventure Muirín was on lay in the distractions, the side tracks that he found and then wandered down.
Or the side tracks that were placed directly in front of him. He'd finally arrived in the grand courtyard at the middle of the city, normally filled with people but never so crowded as it was now. People milled about everywhere, without purpose, which normally pleased Muirín, given that it was just another means of existing. But now... now someone called over them all, and there was an air of apprehension, or at least what seemed like the concept of apprehension to Muirín, for he didn't know the word. He nursed his ice cream still, taking tiny nips from time to time, but he directed most of his attention instead to the voice which now spoke, easy to hear despite the babble of the crowd.
“... Have a strong body, a steadfast mind, lend your strength in general work-- you, powerful neighbours...” To Muirín, the words sounded sinister, their motives shrouded behind the veil of large words of the grandstanding preacher. He tended not to trust the words of anybody who shouted into a crowd, and tended not to trust crowds in general. Large groups made him nervous when they were focused towards a single goal, and he felt all at once the urge to get the hell out of this city...
But before he could kick his a** into gear and make a bee-line down the road into the desert, toward Nimbasa City, he caught a glimpse of red amongst the crowd. Rua. His newest friend, and occasional partner in adventure. He often called Muirín prince... He stood on the line for the booth the orator had indicated as the Booth for Labour and, by insinuation of his following statement, for Battle. Muirín couldn't leave without saying something to him, without at least expressing his distrust for this whole situation, and so he began to push his way through the crowd toward Rua, his fiery hair and flowing tasset bouncing with his rapid step, nimbly avoiding brushing against anyone in the crowd with anything but his right hand.
As he approached, Muirín had just begun to polish off his Casteliacone, biting into the lower half of the sugary waffled handle the treat had come in. A neat invention, to be sure... Focus, dammit! He came to rest next to the armor-clad man, who had noticed him in the crowd as he had drawn near. He smiled, but he couldn't hide his anxiety. He noticed, fleetingly, the tall, blue-haired boy standing behind his friend, but he didn't have the concentration to pay him any mind at first.
“I don't like this, Rua.” Muirín said, motioning to the booth the line led to. “I don't like this at all, and I don't trust it. Something feels wrong. Are you really going to sign up for whatever this is?”
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 6:08 pm
He was just about to get to the front of the crowd around the booth for physical combat, when he heard someone behind him speak. At first, he wasn't sure if they were addressing him-- it was a rather large crowd, after all. Then he wondered if it was perhaps him, and shouldn't he just turn around, in case it was? Except by this point, he was worried he'd taken altogether too long to reply-- finally, he decided after an abnormally long pause to turn his head just enough to see if it was possible the stranger had addressed him.
Very possible, because the tall, aquatic-looking stranger was right behind him. Ruadhrí tripped back a little, and apologized as he knocked some pamphlets on the ground, bending to pick them up and put all but two back on the table. "Uh...Um, thank you?" he finally replied, though he couldn't really remember what he was thanking the stranger for. The man seemed aquatic, which reminded him of his friend Mui. "You... fight?" Rua asked the stranger, somewhat rudely skeptical. If he was being sincere, it looked a little like the stranger would not want to break his nails.
And next to Rua, the tall man seemed to be another kind of creature altogether: there was Rua in his antequated, cracked armour, the halo fixed in place, his silver eyes framed by black.
While Miu had the good sense to doubt the speaker, Rua was pretty much already sold. How could he not want to save the day? Be the hero, fight for their rights! Or, you know, build stuff. Whatever. Point being, there wasn't a doubt in his polar-opposite mind.
He turned from the stranger for a moment, to grin at Muirín. "Princeling!" Rua exclaimed, happily, smiling innocent at the young man with his brilliant orange hair. "Ah, uh, this is... well... I don't know his name, actually," he added, turning to gesture at the tall stranger he had previously been talking to. He seemed to pause for a moment, as if waiting for the man's name, and then looked at Mui again. "What don't you like? If you're not so certain about your skills with a sword, I'm sure you'd be a good healer, princeling?" Rua asked, clearly confused.
-------------------------------------------------------
Hawthorne leaned with his bare feet up on the booth. Specifically, the healing booth. Today, he appeared to be a vulpix humanoid; it was his skill, as a Zorua, to make an illusory shift to whatever pokemon he wanted. The fluffy tails and cute ears of a vulpix suited his purposes, today.
His purposes mainly being to be an a** to everyone at the healing booth. Not because he had a particular problem with humans, nor because he wanted to ruin the cause. It was mostly because he was bored, in the city, and had created a subterfuge until he could find his family again. Somewhere, he'd find that caravan, and rejoin them-- he was pretty distraught over the fact they were missing, but he had gone looking... and found no one.
So he was distracting himself. That was his nature, after all. He yawned and someone working at the booth with him pulled his chair back until he fell off, then hissed at him to keep his feet off the pamphlets. In response, Hawthorne looked up at him with wide, blue eyes and began to cry. "Y-you h-hurt m-me," he sobbed, pathetically, sniffling. His coworker felt immediately bad, and lifted him up, cradling the Zorua in his lap. Hawthorne, his face hidden, smiled to himself. Yessss, nice touch on the tears, he was thinking. The coworker apologized to him, and he turned back to the crowd.
All day, Hawthorne had been telling people at the healing booth that it was a great idea to join... and then telling them gory things which he had made up. As soon as he had "calmed down" because his co-worker offered to go buy them some shaved ice treats, Hawthorne manned the booth again, his fake red tails fanned out around him, their cute curls bouncing every time he leaned in to get someone's attention. "Hey, you! Don't you wanna hear about all the great things healers are for? We could really use the help!"
Hawthorne was beaming at someone walking by. Well, his fake face was beaming. Too bad as soon as they approached he'd probably start describing gory dismemberments and battlefield illnesses.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 6:50 pm
But somewhere far off, a voice came and made the boy perk up his big purple ears, one rotating in the direction he thought it was coming from. Licking ice cream from his lips, he turned and went back to the sidewalk, slipping on his shoes and starting to follow the noise. It got progressively louder as he neared the center of town, taking bite after bite of his ice cream, tail wagging much like a puppy's as he finally found the crowd. As he looked around, he saw not only the large population of humans in Castelia City, but also the occasional Gijinka, just like himself. Mind you, he was short and could not see much, but he went off to the side and stood on a chair to see. In the center, up on a large stage, was a man with a booming, confident voice addressing the crowd. He talked of unifying to help one another, something that seemed to be a good cause to the Rattata, but something about him seemed...off. He had read about speeches like this in some of the books at home, about how they were specifically written to draw you in, get you excited, and get you to join whatever organization they were promoting (or to be against whichever one they were protesting against). Dren listened for a bit longer, finishing off his cone with a loud crunch.
The man pointed to three booths, one dedicated to fighting (which Dren was certainly not suited for), one for some sort of healing, and another for trainers. Of the three, the healing booth seemed the most logical choice for him. Dren, while legally an adult, knew that he was certainly not built like many other boys his age or older, with his small, lithe frame and boyish face. From his perch atop the chair, he look around and, to his dismay, did not see any familiar faces. Granted, he did not know many people, but he had hoped to see at least one person he had met at least once! But his luck was not very good today, it seemed. He glanced at the cell phone he pulled from his pocket, decorated with gold stars and a small charm shaped like a cloud, and checked the time. He was due to be home fairly soon, but surely this wouldn't take very long? He hopped down and made his way as politely and efficiently as possible through the crowd, but was jostled about a few times. Almost everyone there was bigger than him, and anyone smaller was hoisted up onto tall shoulders. Dren puffed his chest out and frowned, beginning to push (albeit not very hard) his way through, but was ignored by many who were still occupied with listening to the speaker on stage. He bumped into a few people, including a tall man with long green hair, but didn't stop to apologize. He didn't have time to do so if he was going to get home in time! If he was late, his trainer's mother would be very angry with him.
Eventually, he reached the booth dedicated to healing, and realized that he should probably have some sort of healing ability. He couldn't think of anything, but he did like caring for people, so maybe that counted? He was definitely not suited for hard physical labor or battle, and he wasn't a trainer, so this was his only option left. He did was to get closer to humans, after all, and what better way then to heal them? They would be so grateful! The thought of what they could be doing that would require quick healing didn't occur to his fast-paced, childlike mind, and he had soon joined the line to sign up.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 7:37 pm
 The courtyard was a mess of mulling people, all bumping and chatting excitedly with each other. Some man was shouting on and on about the booths and what one could offer to do. Sure, it was a good cause it seemed. He believed that people and pokemon could get along if they only tried, but this whole scene was outrageous. Rory wasn't sure if this was the way to go about finding peace and unity among everyone. Then again, he felt his opinion might have be colored at that moment. He was growing more irritated by the second, wanting nothing more than for the crowds of pokemon and people to simply vanish. The bag of pecha pies in his arms was heavy and it was hell trying to dodge people without bumping into them. Finally, Rory gave up and started body checking people, giving as good as he got, especially when a brute of a charizard nearly squished him flat. While Rory had zero interest in any of the booths as he fought for his place on the sidewalk, he some how had ended up pushed towards the booth calling for healers. It was hard not to know it was a healing booth either, what with some whiny vulpix wibbling on his booth partner before taking to calling out gaily to the passerby. Being a pokemon who knew all about the cute charm ability, Rory simply rolled his eyes and snorted. The cleffe intended to move on until he was practically bowled over again by another huge pokemon. "Hey, watch it your jerk," Rory shouted, having been shoved into a nearby purple haired rattata, ignored by his assailant. Tripping from his own momentum, Rory yelped as he went down in a heap at the other boy's feet. Miraculously though, Rory's back full of pies was intact as he lay on his back, the bag held mightily in the air.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 7:52 pm
Since he was already keeping an eye on the crowd, he noticed that an adorable if apparently cranky thing looked over long enough to roll its eyes. Were they rolling them at him? Hawthorne snorted, then smirked. "Hey, little girl! You have such pretty hair," Hawthorne started in. "It would probably look... less good if your head was severed from your body, but, you know, that's why we have healers... right?" Hawthorne beamed happily at the pink thing, until it got bowled over by a huge pokemon and then ran into a rattata.
That was about when his coworker returned with the shaved ice, and gave Hawthorne a look akin to blood-curdling. Well, it was supposed to be. Hawthorne started to laugh, and laugh, and then pushed himself up from his chair, dropping his illusory form. "You should watch where you're going, pipsqueaks," Hawthorne told the rattata and the pink-haired thing before leaving the healing booth and its vicinity, weaving back into the crowd and into an alley to change forms again. It was fun, taking on whatever face he wanted.
Maybe this time he would be a seviper... Hmmm. What did he feel like being? Hawthorne leaned against the bricks in the alley, considering his future.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 8:08 pm
There was only amusement etched on Monet's features from the clearly prolonged reaction that the Shedinja gave. But he didn't mind at all. Tail simply continuing its fluid snaking motion behind him, he perked up as the shorter gentleman finally reacted, blinking in surprise as the neatly folded pamphlets went fluttering off the table. Without much of a second thought, he too knelt to pluck up the remaining folded paper full of info. Placing them casually back onto the table, his grin was turned to seemingly flustered bug, a chuckle rolling in his chest, "I certainly don't look it, do I? Not at all muscular and burly, but~ that's not all that's required on the battlefield, now is it?" he hummed playfully, giving a wink in additional jest. There had to be need of variety on the field, surely! Where he lacked in brawn, he for sure made up for in wit, and his special ability's.
His lips were parted and poised to further their conversation when another character entered the scene. Bright sea green eyes flashed over to the shorter figure, looking over the curious ensemble briefly, before observing the two interact before him. Again, that amused grin lifted. How cute. Must be friends! The Milotic didn't mind at all letting them have their little chat, taking the opportunity to glance around the crowd to scope out any eye candy that might be around... but his attention returned to the pair before him, surprised as he was actually invited into the conversation, "Monet~" he finished for the Shedinja. Though his eyes drifted to the Goldeen curiously, head even canting, "Yes, I'm certain one of your stature will do just fine, darling~" he assured his fellow water dweller. "You needn't worry!" though he didn't know the guy, he had plenty of confidence in the necessity of variety.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 8:54 pm
Just as he began to take another step forward (albeit a small one), another solid body bumped into him, knocking him a bit off balance. He caught himself on another person, but the person who had bumped into him fell to the ground. When this dawned on Dren, he let out a startled noise and dropped to his knees, looking at the pink-haired creature with wide, red eyes. "A-Are you alright?!" He asked, looking the person over (he couldn't...exactly tell if it was a boy or a girl), and his eyes locked briefly on the bag of treats held aloft. Oohhhhh, they looked so delicious! But that wasn't important right now. He helped the person sit up, looking around for someone who had knocked them over, but whoever had done it was no doubt gone at this point. He sighed, then smiled at the pair of bright blue eyes. But another voice reached his sensitive ears, making him turn his head and look at the Vulpix, who was leaving. He called them "pipsqueaks", making Dren frown deeply. He knew he was small, but people didn't need to tease him about it. Lately, he had begun to be a bit self-conscious about it.
He moved to help the pink-haired person up, and noticed the two small brown ears on his/her head, his ruby eyes widening. "You're..you're a Cleffa, aren't you?!" The Rattata nearly cracked his face in half with how widely he smiled. He had been helping his trainer study Pokemon, and had been learning many of them himself as a result. He knew that Cleffa was called the "star-shape" Pokemon, and had instantly loved it when he had found this little nugget of information. Dren, as was probably obvious, loved stars, and therefore anything star-related. Clapping his hands together a few times, he made a happy noise, but then stopped, clearing his throat. He knew that he should start acting his age. His trainer's mother had talked to him about this before, how eighteen-year-old boys were supposed act, and how he didn't fit that mold. He figured that if he was going to start, he should do it now, as best as he could. After all, if a stranger thought he was annoying, he would be incredibly embarrassed!
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 8:56 pm
Muirín was trying, valiantly, not to lose his mind at this whole damned situation. Even as they spoke, the man organizing the event yelled on, calling more and more people to join the lines. Everything he'd ever learned, from the moment he'd been human, had told him to avoid situations like this, where the masses pressed in like sheep. Ross, his original guardian, had taught him that people in large groups with a singular purpose were beyond bad news, they were downright dangerous. He glanced around again, a harrowed look in his eyes, ensuring nobody was watching from the shadows... and finding himself UNABLE to be sure. He pulled in closer to Rua, walking with him as the line moved, his voice picking up speed as they approached the table at the end.
“No, no... I'm fine with a sword, you know that damn well!” Muirín exclaimed, trying to keep himself composed. He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut tight, and massaged the bridge of his nose, gently, with two fingers, before rubbing his cheek and pinching on his neck to stop himself from speaking. When he'd finally gotten a hold of himself, he dropped the hand and opened his eyes again to look at his friend, who had moved forward yet again in the time he'd been blind to the world. He was probably fighting the tides, trying to stop Rua, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try.
”No... look. I don't want to be a healer. I want to be ten miles out of this city. This is bad news, Rua. Really bad news.” He was trying hard, very hard, to sound reasonable and sane, but he had no idea how he was doing. He probably looked halfway to mental, ESPECIALLY with the anxiety that had sprung up into his face as they shuffled closer and closer to the table with the signups.
”This guy just called me darling.” He continued, indicating the tall man behind them. “Do you see what's happening? One minute, everybody's groovy-feelgood, signing up for who knows what, next thing, everything goes to...” Muirín made motions with his hands, creating an imaginary noun where things would go to. His mind couldn't grasp it.
”Look,” he said, grabbing Rua's shoulder before he could get to the table. “I'm begging you. Let's get out of here before this can go wrong, and it will, it's only a matter of when.” He pointed up towards the exit to Route 4, towards the desert and Nimbasa. He hoped his intention was clear.
”Let's be partners again, let's find some new adventure out there, let's be anywhere but here. Please."
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 9:36 pm
@Face and Cynny
"I'm fine," Rory grumped to the rattata, accepting his help in sitting up. The first thing he did was look into his bag of pies, seeing that they were indeed still intact. Huffing, the second thing Rory did was push his pink, curly hair out of his face. "I'm sorry I bumped into you," he added sincerely. "Some jerk shoved into me." Finally, Rory struggled to stand up, taking the rattata up with him. He was grateful to be on his feet again and sighed in relief. He would have let it all go if it hadn't been for the irritating voice of the vulpix that floated through the air.
The cleffa whipped around in an enraged fashion to glare at the uppity little snot. "Girl," he demanded, sputtering around for the rest of his words. A girl indeed. Rory was just about to show the vulpix just how much a girl he was only to stop mid-motion. The surprises just kept coming. The foxy pokemon very soon after had risen and started laughing, yet that wasn't what was surprising though. It was the fact that the vulpix suddenly turned into another pokemon entirely! Startled and shocked by this turn of events, Rory's mind immediately jump to the creature being a ditto. However, the being that stood before him wasn't any kind of pokemon he had ever seen before. The black tails and red markings were shocking, and Rory could do nothing but stare in abject astonishment.
Not caught in his frozen state of confusion for long, Rory prepared to lunge at the male as he passed, but was briefly sidetracked by the question of the cute rattata. "Ah, yes, a cleffa," Rory replied distractedly, his eyes never leaving the retreating form of the many tailed thing. "Look uh, I gotta go tear that a*****e an new one. Now one calls me a pipsqueak."
Slamming his bag of pies on the table top of the healing booth, Rory barked orders at the man behind it to watch his stuff or he'd regret it. Obviously not much caring for his pies anymore in the face of retribution, the cleffa tore after the black and red haired fiend through the crowd. Full of righteous anger, Rory managed to catch up, skidding around the corner and standing imperiously in the middle of the alley.
With his hair all blustered and his expression murderous, Rory slammed one hand on his hip and pointed the other accusingly at the unknown creature in the alley. "Don't think you can get away with calling me a girl and a pipsqueak in the same breath you JERK!"
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 10:02 pm
Maybe it was Hawthorne that Muirín could feel staring from the shadows, as he was making a e ue face even though it wasn't directed towards Muirín. Or anyone, really. In any case, Ruadhrí did not really notice Mui's voice getting faster. It sounded more upset, too. Rua was too focused on his goal to really notice; he was now in hero-mode, in which everything else stopped mattering. He nearly recoiled, however, when Mui exclaimed at him. He was just trying to be helpful, he couldn't see what Mui was so mad about. "I was jus ttrying to help, Princeling...what's so bad about trying to help people? Or pokemon?" Rua stared at his friend as if nothing was making sense at all.
It was definitely not the cute, carefree Mui he was used to. Rua was used to him being a bit more... erratic, too. Less able to zero in on something he disliked. "Maybe you are darling to him?" Rua turned his head, looked at Monet and added, "I am Ruadhrí, by the way," he said, with a bow. A sort-of bow, because his wing would knock someone over if he bowed with this little room.
When Mui grabbed his shoulder, and implored with him, practically pleaded, Rua looked between the booth, Monet and Mui with a look that was reminiscent of a child about to cry because you were taking their candy away. "I cannot ignore the plight of the weak, Princeling! It would be selfish to retreat just because it is getting difficult... I cannot consider my own needs ahead of those who need protection," he pleaded with the goldeen, his skin drained of colour, folding one hand into a fist in passion as he thought of what he must do.
Rua could get... a little too into things. A little too enthusiastic. And dramatic. This was one of those moments. He looked Monet over for a moment, again, thinking that he was still pretty unsure that guy could survive in combat. What were his skills, anyway? Maybe he was strong with an element.----------------------------------------------------------- For the rattata's sake it was probably best that Hawthorne had already left the booth before he could get a word in with the man: Hawthorne would have just done his hardest to scar the poor thing. He didn't really know that it would upset the boy to be called a pipsqueak, though; when Hawthorne harassed others, it was all in his warped sense of good fun. He didn't mean to legitimately upset them. Well, not hurt them. Anger was different altogether.
Hawthorne had already left the area by the time the Rattata was excited about the Cleffa, so he missed that exchange. As he leaned against the bricks of the alley, he could smell something... delicious, drifting down the way. His tail swished back and forth, heavy and fluffy, red tip flicking in the partial darkness in which he stood. If only he had heard the Cleffa's angry statement, he probably would have felt a lot less uninspired by the whole event. Really, this was not alleviating any of his boredom... or rather, it wasn't distracting him enough. Hawthorne's stomach grumbled. He must have imagined the smell of pies, or perhaps it had drifted to his nose from within the crowd, and he'd only just smelled it now. Oh well. Baked goods could wait, he supposed.
When the Cleffa skidded into the middle of the alley, flustered and appearing dishevelled in Hawthorne's opinion, his eyes slid half-shut and he grinned like a satisfied cat. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, stepping out of the shadows. His fingers were busy playing with string, and as he stepped, he pulled the string-gate taught and used it to concentrate on his new illusion: a Clefairy, short pink hair and all. "What's got you so upset, sweetheart? A pretty thing like you, such a grumpy expression." Hawthorne tsk-tsk'd at the boy quietly, still smiling, and started to head out of the alley.
He was enjoying himself now. "Won't your friend miss you? The purple-haired boy."
Pipsqueak #2, he said in his head.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 11:07 pm
 
His companion was smaller, but far more at ease when navigating the crowd. "Fostering communication between our groups is a goal of yours, is it not? This is one such way of doing so." Levateinn spared an amused glance at the uneasy Zekrom, tail flicking to one side almost placatingly. "Come, no worrying. You will not need to interact unless you wish to; just come with me and we'll find a spot to watch."
It had been Levateinn's idea, of course; a patron had mentioned the gathering, and it had piqued his interest; knowing his new tenant's intentions, he'd thought it would be a good excuse to get Seraphan out observing directly. The crowd was a larger one than Seraphan was comfortable with, but they could find a spot with a good view and watch for a while. They had their backs against a wall, observing the whole of the courtyard. They made an odd pair, a winged, dark-seeming gijinka with an unnervingly flat stare, clearly made uncomfortable by the large group of people, and a sharply-dressed Vaporeon who managed to look entirely unconcerned and unruffled by the thronging crowd.
"You do not trust this speaker," Seraphan said thoughtfully, tapping a sharp metal claw against the cloth over his chin. His eyes were focused on the Ratatta and Cleffa by the edge of the crowd, and the new Clefairy that had stepped out to join them. Clear signs of anger, so early on; some sort of conflict had already began to brew, though hopefully the innocent kind.
Levateinn cast a glance at the dragon at his side, pulling his thoughts into coherent order. "Pleasant-sounding words come easily," he answered plainly, not minding if someone nearby heard. "I merely wish to see what actions he plans to initiate. For example, these booths; labor could involve construction, or destruction. And I admit I am...wary. Oftentimes, offers that seem to have no drawbacks have hidden clauses and catches." After all, he had not gotten to, and maintained, his position by simply trusting the first too-good-to-be-true offer to come his way. Lev knew that Seraphan knew of deceit, but he had never encountered it firsthand, and a group that could boast one of the dragons among its ranks might use that fact unfairly. Though this position had been unexpected -- it wasn't every day a Legendary walked into his store, much less inquired after a room -- he recognized a chance to try and head a potential problem off before it started.
After all, it didn't take a seer to recognize the signs of mounting tensions and conflict -- and war was bad for business.
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