& i walk to the sky

[surskitty]

Well thank heaven for that, at least. The boy has no time for annoying old people who sing without hats. He pets his Shinx in an attempt to calm it down. (that's what he said!)

The boy is surprised, as he didn't expect the Raichu to react as such. Like he would leave her in there all alone, uncaught. He sucks on his zapped pinky. After a bit of looking he finds his Ditto, who is transforming back and forth into a very lewd object that it must have seen on a late-night commercial bad Amorpho bad. After a quick scolding, he convinces the Amazing Amorpho to follow him over to the pit. He could just pull the Raichu out, (although the Smeargle was another story) but this way was better and less zappy, hopefully. The boy leaned down and drew a diagram in the sand:
l--l
l--l
l--l
Nodding and feeling patronized, Amorpho begins to stretch and glow, quickly Transforming into a small ladder. With eyes. And it was still purpley-pink. But hey!, it was still a ladder, which was what they needed right now. Sliding Amorpho into the pit, smiling when it fit correctly, the boy waited for the trapped Pokémon to climb out.

Wait, could Raichu use ladders? Even slanted ones? He hoped so.

Given that she quickly leaps up and whacks you in the face with her tail, yes. I would assume so.

You might need to try bribery.

He has a name? Interesting. That's a don't-really-care interesting.

Oh crap. Oh man oh man they're going to throw her out the airlock aren't they man she hates space clefairy man. "Yes!" she says tersely, her voice cracking. "Yes! I... have an objection! 'Cause like maybe well like I said I could just go back and you guys could get back to your lives and everything would go on as usual and I wouldn'tgetthrownouttheairlock!"

Breath. "It's not like I asked to lope your inters or anything... and I don't know what's the matter with Mister Clefairy Captain Shiny Otto Stabbity Hat man or the intricacies of space clefairy factions but he just wanted me to take Len and go back and get rid of Team Rocket and look for his sister and all of that seemed completely reasonable and not at all any good reason to throw me out into space!"

She lets Len onto her lap, realizing she was clenching him tightly and was turning from pink to wobbuffet-blue. She considers her options, including running out of the room and looking for an escape pod, letting out Pierre and taking her chances with his teleport... man she can't think of anything. She just really would like to not get thrown out the airlock.

The clefable rolls her eyes as overdramatically as she possibly can. "Why would you assume I'd have you thrown out the airlock? Do you know how much my insurance premiums would go up if I started littering? If it was okay for me to drop people out airlocks, it'd be okay for other people to drop people out airlocks, and then it'd be impossible to orbit around this planet without hitting some idiot and I live down there, thank you. Ugh, humans." She sighs loudly. "Protocol dictates that I am to teleport any [untranslated Space Clefairy*] roughly to where they were picked up, plus or minus 2km in any direction. [mumble mumble**] I'd've assumed my brother would have explained as much, but he's an idiot ***. See also, your quest from the one clefairy ship nearby that can't be bothered to apply Meteor Mash whenever necessary. Or whenever funny. Or cathartic. Or ... you get the picture. What's the point of technology if you don't use it?"

She adjusts her beret! and smirks. "So. Teleporting. Yes, no, ask the triggerhappy clefable to elaborate on something?"


* Roughly, 'maggots who haven't even figured out proper antigravity, much less faster-than-light travel', except much shorter and ruder. Space Clefairy is a very ... succinct language.

** "Above or below the surface is acceptable but inadvisable."

*** But he has more tact.

 

[Clover]

The clefable rolls her eyes as overdramatically as she possibly can. "Why would you assume I'd have you thrown out the airlock? Do you know how much my insurance premiums would go up if I started littering? If it was okay for me to drop people out airlocks, it'd be okay for other people to drop people out airlocks, and then it'd be impossible to orbit around this planet without hitting some idiot and I live down there, thank you. Ugh, humans." She sighs loudly. "Protocol dictates that I am to teleport any [untranslated Space Clefairy*] roughly to where they were picked up, plus or minus 2km in any direction. [mumble mumble**] I'd've assumed my brother would have explained as much, but he's an idiot***. See also, your quest from the one clefairy ship nearby that can't be bothered to apply Meteor Mash whenever necessary. Or whenever funny. Or cathartic. Or ... you get the picture. What's the point of technology if you don't use it?"

She adjusts her beret! and smirks. "So. Teleporting. Yes, no, ask the triggerhappy clefable to elaborate on something?"


* Roughly, 'maggots who haven't even figured out proper antigravity, much less faster-than-light travel', except much shorter and ruder. Space Clefairy is a very ... succinct language.

** "Above or below the surface is acceptable but inadvisable."

*** But he has more tact.

She blinks. Oh well I'm sorry if I hear "deal with you" from an aggressive self-described 'trigger happy' secretary space clef and my brain instantly goes to death Vogon-style minus the poetry! Thankfully, she's not yet exasperated enough to say such aloud.

Because yes, in fact, she does have some questions. She pulls her legs tailor-style and says carefully, "Yes, actually, I do have... some... questions. Like. ..." She blinks again. "... You're his sister? He's looking for? Uh. Did you know he was looking for you? And. And. ... Why did the cleffa even teleport me up here, I would like to know that. Why was she near there with... a... laser gun? People live around there... and pokémon. Is there something wrong with Len?" She traces his forehead curl. "... Do you have some kind of translator?" she adds, remembering the mechanical voice right before they left. "And. Uh. I guess that's it." She purses her lips, wondering just how many fleets of clefairy ships were up here in the skies, and if they were all so inclined to teleport/meteor mash first, ask questions later.

 

[surskitty]

She blinks. Oh well I'm sorry if I hear "deal with you" from an aggressive self-described 'trigger happy' secretary space clef and my brain instantly goes to death Vogon-style minus the poetry! Thankfully, she's not yet exasperated enough to say such aloud.

Because yes, in fact, she does have some questions. She pulls her legs tailor-style and says carefully, "Yes, actually, I do have... some... questions. Like. ..." She blinks again. "... You're his sister? He's looking for? Uh. Did you know he was looking for you? And. And. ... Why did the cleffa even teleport me up here, I would like to know that. Why was she near there with... a... laser gun? People live around there... and pokémon. Is there something wrong with Len?" She traces his forehead curl. "... Do you have some kind of translator?" she adds, remembering the mechanical voice right before they left. "And. Uh. I guess that's it." She purses her lips, wondering just how many fleets of clefairy ships were up here in the skies, and if they were all so inclined to teleport/meteor mash first, ask questions later.

So, slow, painful, and ignoble? ... Nah. There's probably a regulation against slow deaths. It'd just be ignoble.

"I wasn't aware, but he's enough of an idiot it's not a surprise. You'd've think he'd've gotten the point after I egged his ship, but no. Mom said it was all my fault, but it's clearly his; he's the one who told our little sister that it would be excellent if she signed up for a foreign exchange program and now she's with some idiot land-bound wigglytuff family. They don't even have their own ship!" This is apparently a huge offense, as far as she's concerned. "And the stupid igglybuff she was traded for isn't even properly grateful. Even though he was on mom's ship. Biggest semblance of civilization in this solar system, and everyone involved is an idiot. He's not even vaporizing people wandering around their territory! There are nidoran there! Why are there nidoran!"

The cleffa that had, up til now, been trying to escape to the rest of the ship, waddles over to pat the clefable on the back sympathetically. Or possibly like an opportunistic cleffa that knows by now exactly how to take advantage of clefairy bureaucracy. "Pippi...."

"-- Ah, yes, you're quite right. This is entirely pointless," and now she wants to land somewhere and inflict meteors on random bystanders, so she shuts up and gets straight to the point: finger wiggle, finger wiggle, teleportation of annoying human to about fifteen feet below last human to annoy her.... She puts on her uniform, turns on the cloaking device, and prepares to land.



Unlike last time, you do not immediately feel like you need to throw up after being teleported. Either she's rather better at it than the previous clefairy, or you're a lot closer to the ground than you were before. Or both!

Once again, you're probably a mile or two off from where you were when you were suddenly abducted by aliens. This time, however, you're still roughly where you want to be: you're right next to a pole for the power lines. The lines seem to be down, but that makes sense, given that there is someone in a shoddy ursaring disguise snoring dramatically on top of the pole. ... There's a pokémon in a slightly-better teddiursa costume on his head, looking down at you like it has no idea how to get it or its idiot trainer down.


(( Sorry to take a while! ... But you have an illustration. Don't you feel enlightened? ))

 

[Clover]

So, slow, painful, and ignoble? ... Nah. There's probably a regulation against slow deaths. It'd just be ignoble.

"I wasn't aware, but he's enough of an idiot it's not a surprise. You'd've think he'd've gotten the point after I egged his ship, but no. Mom said it was all my fault, but it's clearly his; he's the one who told our little sister that it would be excellent if she signed up for a foreign exchange program and now she's with some idiot land-bound wigglytuff family. They don't even have their own ship!" This is apparently a huge offense, as far as she's concerned. "And the stupid igglybuff she was traded for isn't even properly grateful. Even though he was on mom's ship. Biggest semblance of civilization in this solar system, and everyone involved is an idiot. He's not even vaporizing people wandering around their territory! There are nidoran there! Why are there nidoran!"

The cleffa that had, up til now, been trying to escape to the rest of the ship, waddles over to pat the clefable on the back sympathetically. Or possibly like an opportunistic cleffa that knows by now exactly how to take advantage of clefairy bureaucracy. "Pippi...."

"-- Ah, yes, you're quite right. This is entirely pointless," and now she wants to land somewhere and inflict meteors on random bystanders, so she shuts up and gets straight to the point: finger wiggle, finger wiggle, teleportation of annoying human to about fifteen feet below last human to annoy her... She puts on her uniform, turns on the cloaking device, and prepares to land.



Unlike last time, you do not immediately feel like you need to throw up after being teleported. Either she's rather better at it than the previous clefairy, or you're a lot closer to the ground than you were before. Or both!

Once again, you're probably a mile or two off from where you were when you were suddenly abducted by aliens. This time, however, you're still roughly where you want to be: you're right next to a pole for the power lines. The lines seem to be down, but that makes sense, given that there is someone in a shoddy ursaring disguise snoring dramatically on top of the pole. ... There's a pokémon in a slightly-better teddiursa costume on his head, looking down at you like it has no idea how to get it or its idiot trainer down.


(( Sorry to take a while! ... But you have an illustration. Don't you feel enlightened? ))

(( I do! I love the picture. It makes me want to buy cookies from her. ))

She raises her index finger in a sad attempt to interject a point. "Bu--"

Aaaand yeah she's back on the ground. Her lips crease into a thin line. "Butts."

Well, the lack of tele-nausea is certainly welcome! ... As is the power line! Now hopefully she's somewhere closer to the power station rather than farthat's an ursaring right there yes it is. And it's asleep! And it's with its kid! Hmmm. Hmmmm.

She scratches Boss's belly - who is still being cool as a sea cucumber - and unzips the duffel as quietly as possible, removing two of the moon balls. She wonders if she could hit it from down here. How did they even get /up/ there? Oh well! Ain't no rule that says bears can't climb trees or telephone poles.

Welp, ichi ka hachi ka. As a precaution, she leans down and whispers into her persian's ear, "If this turns sour, give it a good scratching if it looks aggressive!" Boss responds with a "peruuu~" and small nod.

She quietly grabs one of the blue-black balls - one drawback to apricorn balls is that they can't minimize - stands up, takes aim at the ursaring, aaaand... throws!

 

[surskitty]

(( I do! I love the picture. It makes me want to buy cookies from her. ))

She raises her index finger in a sad attempt to interject a point. "Bu--"

Aaaand yeah she's back on the ground. Her lips crease into a thin line. "Butts."

Well, the lack of tele-nausea is certainly welcome! ... As is the power line! Now hopefully she's somewhere closer to the power station rather than farthat's an ursaring right there yes it is. And it's asleep! And it's with its kid! Hmmm. Hmmmm.

She scratches Boss's belly - who is still being cool as a sea cucumber - and unzips the duffel as quietly as possible, removing two of the moon balls. She wonders if she could hit it from down here. How did they even get /up/ there? Oh well! Ain't no rule that says bears can't climb trees or telephone poles.

Welp, ichi ka hachi ka. As a precaution, she leans down and whispers into her persian's ear, "If this turns sour, give it a good scratching if it looks aggressive!" Boss responds with a "peruuu~" and small nod.

She quietly grabs one of the blue-black balls - one drawback to apricorn balls is that they can't minimize - stands up, takes aim at the ursaring, aaaand... throws!

(( Ha. I don't think she's very good at cooking. ))

You are a terrible person.

No, seriously. You manage to hit the 'ursaring' in the head (YOUR AIM IS TERRIBLE ursaring need to be hit in the middle of the ring for apricorn balls to work; haven't you ever read PokéSpe? FOR SHAME), but it bounces without opening and hits the 'teddiursa'! From the looks of it, the 'teddiursa' is owned: the ball opens at it, does nothing, and is caught by the 'teddiursa', who does something or other to it so it doesn't break. How nice of it!

However, while it takes the fake-ursaring a moment to react, he does! How cruel of you! You knocked a guy in a terrible bear costume off of a power line! Or possibly a phone line. Either way.

His costume's head falls off, revealing -- drumroll, please -- a familiar blue-haired loser. Now with night vision goggles! " -- what?"

"Manene..." says the 'teddiursa' as it floats slowly down. Damn cheating psychic-types.

 

[octobr]

It has been very, very long, and the boy who walks in looks much more like a man.

He's got on glasses he hasn't worn for as long as he remembers and a worn tweed driver cap pulled too low on his face like he hope it'll keep his face dark. It doesn't work, exactly, but it does a decent job of obscuring his features and that's all he was setting out for. He's fidgeting, and he's not making eye contact with anything but the ground, and he's wrapped himself in a thin black jacket that he's grabbing with his fingertips like it might turn leathery and flap away.

It's believable, since he looks as though he's been living in a cave and would flinch in the sunlight. But there is a celebi sliding through the air around him that pulls darkness away and the boy is less a bat then he is a hidden wonder, suddenly.

When the girl speaks, before the quiet can wash back over the space between them he's pushed a hand into a pocket -- the crinkle of the jacket makes the celebi twitch -- and pulled out 14 dollars like they were spare change. He divides it up; 8 dollars, 3 dollars, 3 dollars, fanned with a practiced hand. He offers it to the girl without a word, hoping she can place it to a pass and two item bags, and tries to look even more away from her, though he could really only do that if he was turned around. Instead he touches the brim of his hat with his free hand, looking for all the world like he doesn't want to be.

It's almost true. But he's perfectly content with his unhappiness.

The celebi flits close to him and breathes and the noise it makes is beautiful. It echoes in the dark and pretends time does not exist.

 

[surskitty]

It has been very, very long, and the boy who walks in looks much more like a man.

He's got on glasses he hasn't worn for as long as he remembers and a worn tweed driver cap pulled too low on his face like he hope it'll keep his face dark. It doesn't work, exactly, but it does a decent job of obscuring his features and that's all he was setting out for. He's fidgeting, and he's not making eye contact with anything but the ground, and he's wrapped himself in a thin black jacket that he's grabbing with his fingertips like it might turn leathery and flap away.

It's believable, since he looks as though he's been living in a cave and would flinch in the sunlight. But there is a celebi sliding through the air around him that pulls darkness away and the boy is less a bat then he is a hidden wonder, suddenly.

When the girl speaks, before the quiet can wash back over the space between them he's pushed a hand into a pocket -- the crinkle of the jacket makes the celebi twitch -- and pulled out 14 dollars like they were spare change. He divides it up; 8 dollars, 3 dollars, 3 dollars, fanned with a practiced hand. He offers it to the girl without a word, hoping she can place it to a pass and two item bags, and tries to look even more away from her, though he could really only do that if he was turned around. Instead he touches the brim of his hat with his free hand, looking for all the world like he doesn't want to be.

It's almost true. But he's perfectly content with his unhappiness.

The celebi flits close to him and breathes and the noise it makes is beautiful. It echoes in the dark and pretends time does not exist.

Has it? I'm sure as a secret Time Lord you'd know ALLLLLL ABOUT the passage of time. You even have tweed! Your identity has been compromised. Also, your mood has been ruined; I take pride in this.

She has no problems reading your action tags mind, and hands you one (1) laminated playing card [queen of spades] signed "bradford pear", a six meter (6m) roll of copper wire, and two bags. She glances at the celebi just long enough to get the pikachu to spark with jealousy, then packs the bags with whatever she grabs first: one (1) pot of full incense, one (1) sitrus berry, one (1) electrizer, one (1) thunder stone, one (1) dusk stone, and one (1) deck of cards. If you check the deck, it's actually just the red cards; the art seems to be all photos of Mahogany Town and its surroundings.

"If you head north a bit, you'll hit a road. You might want to head down it a bit."

 

[octobr]

As she packs the bags, the celebi blinks down at the pikachu, but its trainer (of sorts) makes a small noise and it doesn't investigate it but stays at about shoulder-level.

There is a moment where he realizes, head bent down at the items (which he took so gingerly one might have thought he was scared they would burst into flame), that he is noticeably lacking in pockets, or at least pockets sizable enough to carry these lumpy bags or the inexplicable wire. He makes use, instead, of the empty loops on his pants that are generally reserved for a line of pokeballs. They are a struggle to tie but it's easier than shoving them into tight pants pockets where the sharp edges of stones would jab into thighs. This way, anyway, the lone berry won't soil his clothes.

When she speaks he almost thinks about jumping, but instead gives a near-imperceptible nod. The celebi moves a little in her direction but he ignores whatever hint the pokemon is trying to give; it is with a resigned sound that it follows him out of the pavilion and towards the road, the way the girl suggested. When he reaches the path it crunches under his feet and he stares at the gravel despite the celebi's quiet attempts to make him look up.

 

[surskitty]

As she packs the bags, the celebi blinks down at the pikachu, but its trainer (of sorts) makes a small noise and it doesn't investigate it but stays at about shoulder-level.

There is a moment where he realizes, head bent down at the items (which he took so gingerly one might have thought he was scared they would burst into flame), that he is noticeably lacking in pockets, or at least pockets sizable enough to carry these lumpy bags or the inexplicable wire. He makes use, instead, of the empty loops on his pants that are generally reserved for a line of pokeballs. They are a struggle to tie but it's easier than shoving them into tight pants pockets where the sharp edges of stones would jab into thighs. This way, anyway, the lone berry won't soil his clothes.

When she speaks he almost thinks about jumping, but instead gives a near-imperceptible nod. The celebi moves a little in her direction but he ignores whatever hint the pokemon is trying to give; it is with a resigned sound that it follows him out of the pavilion and towards the road, the way the girl suggested. When he reaches the path it crunches under his feet and he stares at the gravel despite the celebi's quiet attempts to make him look up.

The pikachu might have given the celebi the finger, so it's just as well.

The celebi may have a point about looking up; there is a small brown pig snarling at a chittering seagull right off the road.

"Ba ne!" says the female spoink as it bounces on -- that's not a pearl. That would be one (1) pokémon egg. The egg is okay, against all odds, given that it keeps bouncing and being bounced on.

The male wingull squawks, then eyes you for food. Or to take the egg from the spoink. Either way.

 

[Clover]

(( Ha. I don't think she's very good at cooking. ))

You are a terrible person.

No, seriously. You manage to hit the 'ursaring' in the head (YOUR AIM IS TERRIBLE ursaring need to be hit in the middle of the ring for apricorn balls to work; haven't you ever read PokéSpe? FOR SHAME), but it bounces without opening and hits the 'teddiursa'! From the looks of it, the 'teddiursa' is owned: the ball opens at it, does nothing, and is caught by the 'teddiursa', who does something or other to it so it doesn't break. How nice of it!

However, while it takes the fake-ursaring a moment to react, he does! How cruel of you! You knocked a guy in a terrible bear costume off of a power line! Or possibly a phone line. Either way.

His costume's head falls off, revealing -- drumroll, please -- a familiar blue-haired loser. Now with night vision goggles! "-- what?"

"Manene..." says the 'teddiursa' as it floats slowly down. Damn cheating psychic-types.

She stares. That... that's not an ursaring. She gapes for a second, taking in the scene, before coming to her senses. Oh gosh, that guy just fell /off a power line/! And I hit him! In the head! ... Why was he sleeping on top of a power line.

She runs over and kneels at his side, the persian trotting behind. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" she asks frantically. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I thought you were an ursaring! Here, let me..." She carefully removes the headset, gingerly brushes his hair from his face... and meets his eyes.

She gasps slightly and puts her hand to her mouth, then points, waggling her finger in recognition. "You... You're that guy! From before!" ... He said his name before they parted ways, she's sure, but she's bad with names. And dates and times. But she's big on faces! She looks across to the teddiursa, who she now identifies as ~not a teddiursa~ but doesn't recognize the species. "... Uh. Hi," she says to both.

She rubs the back of her head in embarrassment. "So... how've you been? -- Oh, wait!" She darts back, grabs her bags, and dashes back, pulling something out of a side pocket. "Here! I'm really sorry!" She unpeels the wrapping from a yellow bandaid decorated with a pikachu expression and slaps it on the red spot on his forehead.

 

[octobr]

The little squeal of the pokemon does more than all the celebi's attempts; he stops short on the gravel and looks up, forgetting himself. It doesn't matter anyway -- after he catches himself he realizes he can't imagine there being too many people out there except for the occasional trainer, and those would be easy enough to avoid ... if the celebi doesn't bring too much attention to him. But lately trying to go places without the thing is like trying to breathe without lungs.

The weird noises that the wingull makes bring him back to reality. The feathery thing is being generally an ass towards an irritated little spoink, and the boy can really kind of appreciate the little pig. He doesn't like birds. He doesn't.

The celebi is making short, hopeful motions towards the pokemon, chiming quietly, and the boy blinks for a second before digging tentatively in one of his bags. Fortunately, it's the bag he intended, and he finds a slightly battered sitrus berry in it. He dangles it by the short leaves a moment, then switches it to his palm, crouching down to get to the level of the pokemon -- and he holds it out to the wingull hopefully. He glances once towards the spoink -- is it going to assume that he's siding with the bird? -- then, hoping that this distraction works, eyes back on the wingull, tosses the berry away from the pig and the egg. He looks between the bird and the berry, trying to like calm and nonthreatening and like this berry was a Good Idea.

He really kind of hopes this works.





[[Besides if it doesn't he can always go back in time and change his methods RIGHT]]

 

[surskitty]

She stares. That... that's not an ursaring. She gapes for a second, taking in the scene, before coming to her senses. Oh gosh, that guy just fell /off a power line/! And I hit him! In the head! ... Why was he sleeping on top of a power line.

She runs over and kneels at his side, the persian trotting behind. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?!" she asks frantically. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I thought you were an ursaring! Here, let me..." She carefully removes the headset, gingerly brushes his hair from his face... and meets his eyes.

She gasps slightly and puts her hand to her mouth, then points, waggling her finger in recognition. "You... You're that guy! From before!" ... He said his name before they parted ways, she's sure, but she's bad with names. And dates and times. But she's big on faces! She looks across to the teddiursa, who she now identifies as ~not a teddiursa~ but doesn't recognize the species. "... Uh. Hi," she says to both.

She rubs the back of her head in embarrassment. "So... how've you been? -- Oh, wait!" She darts back, grabs her bags, and dashes back, pulling something out of a side pocket. "Here! I'm really sorry!" She unpeels the wrapping from a yellow bandaid decorated with a pikachu expression and slaps it on the red spot on his forehead.

That's the sort of thing that, if you asked him, he would waffle forever on instead of answering. He's just that awesome. Or fail. Either way.

"... Hi?" he says, a bit dazed. (I don't think he knows why he was sleeping on a pole for the power line, either. Quite possibly because it was there.) "Um ... is that yours?" He points at the pole.

The mime jr squeaks a short "ne, ne~!" and pulls off the hat of its costume. It pokes at it for a moment, then pronounces it satisfactory with a curt "maa, ne!" and jumps onto its trainer's head.

"I've been better, I think ..."

The mime jr finds the bandaid fascinating.

The little squeal of the pokemon does more than all the celebi's attempts; he stops short on the gravel and looks up, forgetting himself. It doesn't matter anyway -- after he catches himself he realizes he can't imagine there being too many people out there except for the occasional trainer, and those would be easy enough to avoid ... if the celebi doesn't bring too much attention to him. But lately trying to go places without the thing is like trying to breathe without lungs.

The weird noises that the wingull makes bring him back to reality. The feathery thing is being generally an ass towards an irritated little spoink, and the boy can really kind of appreciate the little pig. He doesn't like birds. He doesn't.

The celebi is making short, hopeful motions towards the pokemon, chiming quietly, and the boy blinks for a second before digging tentatively in one of his bags. Fortunately, it's the bag he intended, and he finds a slightly battered sitrus berry in it. He dangles it by the short leaves a moment, then switches it to his palm, crouching down to get to the level of the pokemon -- and he holds it out to the wingull hopefully. He glances once towards the spoink -- is it going to assume that he's siding with the bird? -- then, hoping that this distraction works, eyes back on the wingull, tosses the berry away from the pig and the egg. He looks between the bird and the berry, trying to like calm and nonthreatening and like this berry was a Good Idea.

He really kind of hopes this works.


[[Besides if it doesn't he can always go back in time and change his methods RIGHT]]

Of course he could.

"Kyamo?" the wingull squawks, eying the berry. It looks like it's thinking of taking the berry (and your finger), but thankfully it stays where it is until you start throwing the berry: it darts as soon as it can tell where you're going to throw -- and the berry hits it in the head. This doesn't seem to particularly bother it, though, as it tries to scarf down the berry and ... nearly chokes.

The pig bounces over to you, complete with egg. "Buuu...?" it asks, eyes wide as it looks up to you and tries to be as pathetic and deserving of treats of some sort as possible.

 

[Clover]

That's the sort of thing that, if you asked him, he would waffle forever on instead of answering. He's just that awesome. Or fail. Either way.

"... Hi?" he says, a bit dazed. (I don't think he knows why he was sleeping on a pole for the power line, either. Quite possibly because it was there.) "Um... is that yours?" He points at the pole.

The mime jr squeaks a short "ne, ne~!" and pulls off the hat of its costume. It pokes at it for a moment, then pronounces it satisfactory with a curt "maa, ne!" and jumps onto its trainer's head.

"I've been better, I think..."

The mime jr finds the bandaid fascinating.

Right, a pole for the power line, not the power line itself. Is what she meant. ... He wouldn't be that out of it to sleep hammock-style on the actual power lines. ... Hopefully. ... /Who sleeps on a thirty-foot pole anyway./

She frowns and looks at the pole. "Mine? Uh. No, I don't own it. I just stopped by around here and was told the power wasn't working, so I was going out to look at the power plant before I was so wonderfully sidetra--"

Now she frowns and looks at the man. "Waaaait a second," she says, crossing her arms. "Every time I get spirited away by those clefs, you aren't far away." She peers in closer to his face in a vaguely unsettling manner, as if the answers were written on the back of his eyes. "What do you know about space clefairy? Are you calling them for some reason?" A thought quickly flits through her mind: If this is some really, /really/ weird way of flirting...

She pulls back and smiles brightly at the adorable little jester pokémon. "You like that?" She pulls out an identical bandaid from her bag, peels off the wrapper but not the adhesive cover, and hands it to the pokémon with a head like a soft-serve ice cream.

 

[surskitty]

Right, a pole for the power line, not the power line itself. Is what she meant. ... He wouldn't be that out of it to sleep hammock-style on the actual power lines. ... Hopefully. ... /Who sleeps on a thirty-foot pole anyway./

She frowns and looks at the pole. "Mine? Uh. No, I don't own it. I just stopped by around here and was told the power wasn't working, so I was going out to look at the power plant before I was so wonderfully sidetra--"

Now she frowns and looks at the man. "Waaaait a second," she says, crossing her arms. "Every time I get spirited away by those clefs, you aren't far away." She peers in closer to his face in a vaguely unsettling manner, as if the answers were written on the back of his eyes. "What do you know about space clefairy? Are you calling them for some reason?" A thought quickly flits through her mind: If this is some really, /really/ weird way of flirting...

She pulls back and smiles brightly at the adorable little jester pokémon. "You like that?" She pulls out an identical bandaid from her bag, peels off the wrapper but not the adhesive cover, and hands it to the pokémon with a head like a soft-serve ice cream.

Someone who's been stuck there for a bit and doesn't want to try climbing down? He doesn't exactly have much experience with climbing down things; he tends to just fall off. He's sort of like a cat; he can go up things just fine but isn't entirely sure of the specifics of ... getting back down ... without jumping or falling...

He backs away as you lean forward and tenses, ready to bolt, though he relaxes marginally as you back off slightly. "Um ... no?" he tries. "They're jerks and they pay peanuts," and he completely ignores the first question. He's not good with questions not involving pikachu or expense reports, okay!! (The answer to 'can I see your expense report' is always to run away. But at least there's a simple answer there.)

"Mane?" it says as it takes the bandaid, examines the pikachu face, and bites it.

 

[octobr]

"Kyamo?" the wingull squawks, eying the berry. It looks like it's thinking of taking the berry (and your finger), but thankfully it stays where it is until you start throwing the berry: it darts as soon as it can tell where you're going to throw -- and the berry hits it in the head. This doesn't seem to particularly bother it, though, as it tries to scarf down the berry and ... nearly chokes.

The pig bounces over to you, complete with egg. "Buuu...?" it asks, eyes wide as it looks up to you and tries to be as pathetic and deserving of treats of some sort as possible.

With the wingull staring at him so he gets a little unnerved -- he was never a bird person. But it fortunately takes the bait and flutters off, leaving him and the spoink in relative peace; he can tune out the sounds of it squawking around the likely still-whole sitrus berry. The boy moves his eyes back to the
little pig.

It made a sweet and small sound when it bounced towards him: comical, in a way, adorable in another. Not to say the ideas were totally separate -- but he was thinking too far into something very trivial. The spoink was looking up at him the way domestic poochyena do after they've dropped a tennis ball in your lap. Even without the less than subtle nudges that the celebi was giving him he was tempted to dig through his pockets for something, anything that would make it drop the stupid puppy eyes look, but he knew without moving that he was lacking in the treats department. Instead he adjusted the cap he was wearing, pulling it back to move the shadow out of his eyes so the pokemon could see him properly.

"Sorry," he said, hands open and empty, apologetic (obviously). It was short and it was quiet, but at least pokemon were fairly good with human speech. "But I have more food at home. It's safe there."

He left out that he barely had a place that qualified as a 'home.'

He shifted so that one hand was offered casually to the spoink in case it was still wary of him. He glanced at the egg. "It would give you somewhere to take care of that, too."

He never really bothered to wonder if the spoink really understood him. If all else failed, the celebi was making little cooing noises under his speech that might have been a translation.

 

[Clover]

Someone who's been stuck there for a bit and doesn't want to try climbing down? He doesn't exactly have much experience with climbing down things; he tends to just fall off. He's sort of like a cat; he can go up things just fine but isn't entirely sure of the specifics of ... getting back down ... without jumping or falling...

He backs away as you lean forward and tenses, ready to bolt, though he relaxes marginally as you back off slightly. "Um ... no?" he tries. "They're jerks and they pay peanuts," and he completely ignores the first question. He's not good with questions not involving pikachu or expense reports, okay!! (The answer to 'can I see your expense report' is always to run away. But at least there's a simple answer there.)

"Mane?" it says as it takes the bandaid, examines the pikachu face, and bites it.

"Aa-- no, don't /eat/ it..." she says to the purple pokémon, concerned. She takes it from his mouth, uncovers the sticky bit, pulls off one of the gloves to his costume, and plasters it on his hand like a sticker, the cat smile caught under two black circles and between two red ones facing him.

Crisis averted, she looks back to the man in the bear suit. "They paying you?" she says, a touch of amusement or bemusement or both in her voice. "I got Len - my igglybuff - from them, but that seemed to be more them pawning him off on me than a show of gratitude. Not that he's not great!" she adds quickly, in case he can hear from inside his pokéball. She tilts her head and shrugs at the man. "And then just now I just got a rude..." She trails off and waves her hand around vaguely. "I don't even know, man. Teleporting and laser guns and secretary clefable in girl scout uniforms."

She rolls her eyes, a glib smirk on her face. "So, you know, just a typical day in the neighborhood.

"Anyway." She cracks her knuckles and holds out a hand to help the man off his rear. "If you haven't got anything better to do, you should come with! Abandoned power plants usually means cool electric or poison pokémon, or feral meowth" - one of the persian's ears twitch - "or stuff like that." She smiles. "B'sides, I'd like the company. How 'bout it?"

(forgot about Len, whoops. pretend he got recalled sometime during that first post on terra firma.)

 

[surskitty]

With the wingull staring at him so he gets a little unnerved -- he was never a bird person. But it fortunately takes the bait and flutters off, leaving him and the spoink in relative peace; he can tune out the sounds of it squawking around the likely still-whole sitrus berry. The boy moves his eyes back to the little pig.

It made a sweet and small sound when it bounced towards him: comical, in a way, adorable in another. Not to say the ideas were totally separate -- but he was thinking too far into something very trivial. The spoink was looking up at him the way domestic poochyena do after they've dropped a tennis ball in your lap. Even without the less than subtle nudges that the celebi was giving him he was tempted to dig through his pockets for something, anything that would make it drop the stupid puppy eyes look, but he knew without moving that he was lacking in the treats department. Instead he adjusted the cap he was wearing, pulling it back to move the shadow out of his eyes so the pokemon could see him properly.

"Sorry," he said, hands open and empty, apologetic (obviously). It was short and it was quiet, but at least pokemon were fairly good with human speech. "But I have more food at home. It's safe there."

He left out that he barely had a place that qualified as a 'home.'

He shifted so that one hand was offered casually to the spoink in case it was still wary of him. He glanced at the egg. "It would give you somewhere to take care of that, too."

He never really bothered to wonder if the spoink really understood him. If all else failed, the celebi was making little cooing noises under his speech that might have been a translation.

The spoink doesn't seem to entirely understand anything other than 'food', but it seems only mildly disappointed that you're not feeding it. It seems to be ignoring whatever the celebi's saying, however; it sticks its tongue out at the fairy and hops onto your hand, egg safely lodged where a pearl should be. "Ba ne!" On closer inspection, the egg looks like it might be a spinda egg; the spoink looks like it considers the egg its own, though.

The pig bounces softly -- never enough to put the egg at risk -- and turns to look in the direction of a bush. More specifically, a bush with a suspiciously yellow tail sticking out.

"Buu!"

"Aa-- no, don't /eat/ it..." she says to the purple pokémon, concerned. She takes it from his mouth, uncovers the sticky bit, pulls off one of the gloves to his costume, and plasters it on his hand like a sticker, the cat smile caught under two black circles and between two red ones facing him.

Crisis averted, she looks back to the man in the bear suit. "They paying you?" she says, a touch of amusement or bemusement or both in her voice. "I got Len - my igglybuff - from them, but that seemed to be more them pawning him off on me than a show of gratitude. Not that he's not great!" she adds quickly, in case he can hear from inside his pokéball. She tilts her head and shrugs at the man. "And then just now I just got a rude..." She trails off and waves her hand around vaguely. "I don't even know, man. Teleporting and laser guns and secretary clefable in girl scout uniforms."

She rolls her eyes, a glib smirk on her face. "So, you know, just a typical day in the neighborhood.

"Anyway." She cracks her knuckles and holds out a hand to help the man off his rear. "If you haven't got anything better to do, you should come with! Abandoned power plants usually means cool electric or poison pokémon, or feral meowth" - one of the persian's ears twitch - "or stuff like that." She smiles. "B'sides, I'd like the company. How 'bout it?"

(forgot about Len, whoops. pretend he got recalled sometime during that first post on terra firma.)

Not to be so easily dissuaded, the mime jr puts its hand to its mouth and licks the bandaid, then pulls it partially off and chews. "Ma NE," it states, leaving the impression that it's perfectly aware it's not food. And it doesn't care.

He nods vaguely. "Um ... did you say girl scout uniforms?" He scratches the back of his neck; his costume is itchy and girl scout clefable sound highly implausible. The mime jr seems to agree with him: it looks at you and chews dismissively on the bandaid.

He winces at the suggestion, though he does take the offered hand. "I ... have some things I need to do --" like find somebody to make a proper report to -- "but they can wait. Sure."

And, because he hasn't actually heard anything about one pokémon at a time, he pulls out a pokéball, presses the button, and is then savaged lovingly by a familiar carnivine. C'est la vie.

(( Sorry for being slow. ))