• Welcome to The Cave of Dragonflies forums, where the smallest bugs live alongside the strongest dragons.

    Guests are not able to post messages or even read certain areas of the forums. Now, that's boring, don't you think? Registration, on the other hand, is simple, completely free of charge, and does not require you to give out any personal information at all. As soon as you register, you can take part in some of the happy fun things at the forums such as posting messages, voting in polls, sending private messages to people and being told that this is where we drink tea and eat cod.

    Of course I'm not forcing you to do anything if you don't want to, but seriously, what have you got to lose? Five seconds of your life?

+ OMEN +

Nova Prime

Queen of Procrastination
+ OMEN +

+ + +​

Welcome to OMEN, everyone. Again, I thank you for your patience. Firstly, for any future reference, the Out Of Character Thread is where any comments, queries, or notifications of absence should be posted.

I will be playing as my own character alongside the rest of you and, in addition, I will also be writing from a observant and narrative point of view at various points. This narrative will be important for many reasons, which the characters will discover as time goes on.

+ + +​



I'm sure I've gone past that tree. I'm sure of it...
Travel was usually such a pleasure for Riley. She revelled in it, enjoyed the opportunity to jump and run and sprint to her heart's content. But today it dragged, each step an agonising, laboured pacing, each second, a whole year. Maybe she could not deal with pain as well as she'd hoped.
Snarling a little, she tried, as she'd already tried countless times, to shift and run on all fours. And as always, for a moment or two, she trotted a little, perhaps even began to run, and then her shoulder would sting sharply and give way and she'd stop once more. This time it look a little longer than normal and she yowled when it finally kicked in, already sick of the inconvenience it was causing. Shifting back, she gave up for the time being, moving at an increased, albeit still slow pace, back in the general direction of her makeshift Clan's den.

----------------------------------------
From the huge Dianderia Falls, high in the Eastern Wilds, many smaller streams and creeks break away. One sizeable stream in particular runs through several Clan Territories, and when it reaches the banks of Lake Kescai splits off again. This stream twists and turns every which way, until finally, it trails in a modest crescent shape around a small den site. The den itself is quite useful, not easily spotted amongst the foliage. In order to enter, one must lower one's head. Many large, leafy plants line the side of the stream and continue to dot themselves around the area. It is altogether not an unlikable place.
----------------------------------------

Spying this telltale stream, Riley Blodwedd rolled her eyes.
Finally.
A small group of strangely mismatched individuals were spread rather evenly about the den site when Riley scuffled in. She huffed, blowing blood streaked bangs from her eyes, trying to not make a big deal of her return, despite the noticeably dark red stain on her otherwise regular red clothing. A small fire burnt shallowly, awaiting somebody to tend to it, and she sat down hurriedly beside it without bothering to greet anyone. The urgency of her rapidly infecting shoulder distracted her too greatly. She gritted her teeth, showing larger than average canines, and with long nails pulled broken pieces of wool out of her open wound, hissing under her breath. It did not occur to her that any may be watching, or even that she was within distance of quite a talented healer, but instead, there she sat. The thought of sharing what had just transpired for the moment, eluded her.

+ + +​
 
Flicker sniffed. He sniffed twice, in fact, to check. It was a very distinctive smell, sharp and suggestive of fistfights and the metal buckle he had found once in the muddy bank of the river. Yes, it was definitely blood they he smelled, and he had a good idea of whose.

He tucked the rest of the small, sourish watmel berry into his left cheek. They weren't entirely ripe yet, but they were still delicious anyway. He slinked his way out of the berry grove, ears atwitch for a few moments to dislodge the fallen foliage. He shook himself off and ran at speed to his destination; he was vaguely sure that it was the fire pit; that was the source of the smell, after all.

He saw a bipedal figure crouched down near the meager flames. Of course, he thought as he squinted his good eye, it was Riley. She was always in that human form of hers, which only seemed odd to Flick. He vastly preferred being a pikachu to the alternative. Humans, despite the many wild myths that ran especially strongly in his former culture, were squishy and furless and weak. Their skin was thin and slow to heal, their thin spindly legs powerful enough but not especially fast. They didn't even have attacks! A pichu just hatched could do far more than a human could!

Anyway, back to Riley. There was that smell again, strong now, and Flicker could just make out a dark stain on her human clothing. The others seemed oblivious for the moment, or at least those that he could see. Other than having encyclopedic knowledge of the location of every berry, healing or otherwise, in the immediate area, Flicker was not a healer. He knew that a shock to the chest could sometimes revive a failing pokémon, of course; everyone knew that, but it couldn't stop bleeding and it usually didn't work on non-electric-types anyway (despite the stories).

He stepped out of the shadows much more slowly than normal (he didn't exactly trust the zangoose/human not to slice him tail-to-cheek on accident) to a few yards distant from the fire.

"Hey, Riles, are you okay? Need me to go get Mocky?" he said, revealing yet again his weakness for bad nicknames.
 
The tall shapely rabbit appeared from the bushes, carrying a few branches from a nearby tree. She threw them into the fire, listening to it crackle and watching as sparks arose.
"Oh no, you're hurt." London pointed out the obvious as she noticed the Zangoose limping. It seemed Riley was always getting hurt, and it disturbed London to see anyone get hurt. "What happened this time? And where's that darn Altaria when you need her?"
 
Riley was deeply engrossed in battle with her clothing when she suddenly realised somebody was speaking to her. The long, mismatched ears buried in her hair twitched and she looked up. A corner of her ripped jumper was held fiercely in her jaws and she looked slightly feral for a moment. Flicker was watching her with those eyes that unnerved her slightly and she looked at him, feeling her wound throb for a moment before finally getting words to form on her tongue.
"Ah...Mocky...." she repeated the word to herself, muffled through her jumper. Mocky...? Was that someone new? Had she forgotten already? Riley stared at the ground blankly.

The fire next to her suddenly jumped to life and she skittered away, accidentally jarring her shoulder and yowling. She swore under her breath.
"I am so sick of this stupid..." her voice trailed off. A pair of feet appeared at her side and the caring voice of London reached her now.
"I'm...I'm fine," Riley said to the Lopunny's feet. "Just hurts like a goddam-ah!" Sick of the pain and the bother it was causing, she let go of her haphazard handiwork and crossed her arms, giving up altogether and staring stubbornly at the fire like it had done something to offend her.
 
In his life, Cassian Torukk had gone in the role of many things: thief, outcast, rebel, loner, and... well, it had been many roles. Now, floating just outside of the warmth of the fire, Cassian yet again tried to see himself in the role of a teammate.

He couldn't. Over ten years of solitude did that to a Shedinja - he didn't want to involve himself too much in this Clan's structure; as long as he kept himself mildly involved in their affairs, he could remain under their protection - which was the whole point. As far as he was concerned, these others were shields for his vulnerable shell; nothing more, and nothing less.

Even now, one of his "Clanmates" was staggering into their den, having clearly gone through some form of hell or another. A few of the others rushed forward to help her, but Cassian stayed right where he was: floating in place, outside the range of the dangerous fire, watching the entire scene through unreadable eyes.

"If I know the Altaria," he muttered quietly as the Lopunny wondered aloud where that self-obsessed bird had gone off to, "she's off somewhere cleaning the tiny molecule of dirt off the tip of her wing. In the process, her infernal singing will draw the attention of whoever happens to be hunting us down, and assuming they don't leave her be, they'll track her right to us, and that will be that."

He didn't care if the Altaria was actually in the cave or not. He didn't care if any of the others in the cave could hear him.

At the end of the day, survival would always be his highest priority. Survival at any cost.
 
"Oh, don't get all fussy now." London stepped over to Riley, sitting down next to her. The red rabbit looked over at the Shedinja, frowning. "Don't be so negative, if we keep thinking like that we will get caught." She crossed thin legs, closely studying her cream-tipped paws.

London was glad her Clan didn't decide to keep tracking her down. They had merely given up. It was almost like they didn't want to see her go, like her mother regretted the decision. But she knew that going back would be suicide. She felt a quick flash of anger. If only her sister hadn't of died, she would'nt have transformed in a state of utter depression and sadness. But it wasn't Paris' fault, it was the damn disease that took her life.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she tried to focus on the fire in front of her. "So, what do we do now?"
 
He was watching the fire, and sometimes his feet. Easier not to spare the others a passing glance, give them some reason to chatter at him, since no one seemed to appreciate his efforts to physically wipe the grins off their faces.

Percy was leaning against a tree some distance away from the fire, slouching in his human skin. The stuff felt more comfortable than feathers and beak, easier to pull into expressions even if he mostly wore the same one. But it served to tell the others -- the kids like Flicker, chipper and attached to being just the same things as the pokemon who had pushed them out into the wild -- that it would be best if they backed off. Worked well enough, he guessed, though there were plenty of times when he felt like the lopunny would look better with a black eye. He shifted against the tree and felt bark dig into his back like claws.

He didn't hate them, though. Couldn't, really, not when there was nowhere else to turn and they kept you fed and alive and sometimes, even happy. They didn't need to know that. Better this way.

A tang of metal that crawled down his nose and throat, even over the campfire smoke, chased by the sound of sniffs and coos and worrying and, well, Riley was there. Percy barely glanced up, enough to keep his eyes in line with his other senses; she had blood seeping out of her shoulder, growing along the fabric of her shirt like fungus. It made his mouth dry; it made his mouth water. She was like a lantern to venomoth; they congregated around her even though she came bearing a gaping wound and not food or berries. Percy only looked at them all, the way they carried motion through each other like a wave; even Cassian, all isolation and anger, made a point of talking to her (maybe at her). Riley made a good show of generally ignoring them. He could appreciate that, he guessed.

But the copper kept winding from his breath to his tongue and his eyes narrowed, glancing at the pikachu keeping a nervous distance. He addressed Riley all the same.

"You didn't think to wash that off before you left a goddamn trail to the den? Knew there was a reason we trusted you." He didn't honestly mean for it to snap like that, for the punctuation to be sharp with razorblades. But now it had started, he couldn't just back down; no use being weak.

"If he" -- a glance to Flicker -- "can smell your blood, so can everyone else."

Hypocrisy, sure; he would go out for the occasional lonesome excursion and come back with rips in his skin and feathers an all-wrong red and knuckles burning with blood, but this was... different, or something. He found fights, he made them. Riley... the way the wound pulsed, the way she looked at it and forgot about words, this was a fight that found her.

He moved his back against the tree to feel the scratch of the bark. What do they do now, indeed. It was just as likely that they had to find a new den as it was that they just needed to wait for Riley's shoulder to scab over.


((Herp I realize I don't know if the den is some sort of cave or just a clearing or wat. WELP he's leaning against the tree equivalent if there aren't any trees))
 
Aiode was not in the den; she was outside, perched in a quiet tree and pucking berries from it, in her Altaria form. Her voice was soft, mulling over a tune she had picked up earlier in the day, memorizing it. She stashed the berries away in her chest fluff, before turning in place on the branch.

That was when the smell caught her; the sickly metallic scent of blood. She gave a shiver, but she knew she had to face her fear and tend to whoever was hurt. She sighed and took flight, gliding down to the den. She bowed her head and crept in, scowling at the dirty floor as she went. She'd get that later.

Inside, she quickly picked out the wounded one - Riley, the Zangoose. Aiode swallowed her fears, both of blood and the scary older girl, and flitted closer.

"You're hurt..." She started with, before realizing how stupid that probably sounded. Of course she knew she was hurt, that was silly. Aiode shook her head and tried again.

"Let me help you." That was a bit better.

The dragon type started picking through her fluff without waiting for a response, and plucked out a small Pecha berry she had managed to find. Most of the berries she found weren't of much use, but this one was effective against poison and infection, and would be of use here. She popped it into her mouth and started to mush it up, then regurgitated the whole thing up onto the wound.
 
London frowned at Percy. She had never quite liked him, she had never liked anybody witha negative tone like that all of the time. Then again, she couldn't blame him; he was kicked out of his Clan, too. All of them were orphans, in some way. She hated the feeling that she would never see one of her kind again, no other Lopunny or little Buneary. If it wasn't for the other outsiders, she would be terribly lonely. But even they weren't the best company, most of them disgruntled, hurt, and sad, too.

She watched as Aoide fluttered down to inspect the wound, before retching a poltice on the festering opening. "Ew," the Lopunny muttered, raising her upper lip in a snarl of disgust.
 
London was always so prissy; it was a pecha berry, it wasn't like they carried any infection anyway. They couldn't really be affected negatively by a swift chew-and-spit, even with a trip down the gullet in between.

His head swiveled to look at the pidgeot, Percy. (Seriously, why did they all stay human so much? Was not being a pikachu that bad even when you were just a different pokémon and not some pudgy human?) He had said something about him, and about the blood.

"Nah, actually my smell's pretty strong for a pikachu," he explained, one ear flickering slightly. "The elderly always said it was because of the eye, but that never made any sense to me 'cause why would not having sight make me smell better? Abra can't smell anything and they never even open their eyes."

Flicker, despite what some would claim, was not simple; he knew that Percy was generally thicker-headed than a cubone and nearly as antisocial. He was almost bone-headed! The pikachu grinned inwardly at his repulsive pun.

Raikou he was bored.
 
“I dunno,” Riley said distractedly in response to London’s query, although she hadn’t really heard it to begin with. The heat was not doing much to help her wound. The pointed feeling of being watched was not lost on Riley and a quick, cursory glance into the dark corner confirmed her suspicions as she saw Cassian brooding quietly.

Another voice spoke suddenly, puncturing Riley’s mindless fire-watching, as this voice was loud. And annoying. Riley looked up, ears forward, brow furrowed, and stared into the dark eyes of the Pidgeot anthro, growling under her breath at his accusatory tone.
“I’ll make sure that next time I nearly get my arm torn off that I give it a bath first, then. I wouldn’t want to offend your ‘delicate senses’,” she hissed in way of reply, grabbing her shoulder again with a clawed, bloody hand. Flicker said something else in response as well, about Abras and other such things, and the way he said it gave Riley the impression that Flicker was on her side also, if only in a somewhat half-hazard way.

She went to throw something else his way but a gust of wind swept over her, one that nearly extinguished the fire, and her ears bent backwards defensively, before she saw Aiode, the large, strange looking bird, land gently beside her, shooting a cursory dirty look at the dust on the ground before looking straight at her and offering her healing. Riley said nothing, her eyes slightly wide and confused, and watched as she gently picked up a Pecha Berry and began to chew it. The sweet, pungent smell made her grimace and look away bitterly; compared to that, the knowledge that Aiode had to regurgitate that back onto her made no never mind to her.

“Seriously, that stuff is absolutely fer-AH!
She avoided looking until there was a sharp, searing pain that shot through her shoulder, to her spine and into her brain. Her eyes shot open and she growled for a moment as the berry worked on the infection, and she gripped just below the wound hard to try and stem any pain she felt. A small, quiet show of disgust from London made Riley chuckle despite herself.

For a moment, there was silence. The pain began to ebb as the initial infection dimmed under the force of the healing. Riley looked at Aiode and nodded her head in a display somewhat akin to respectful thanks. And then…
“Oh!”
The lessened pain had allowed her brain activity to pick back up and with it, the remembrance of why, exactly she had been bleeding in the first place.
“I got this…from one of us,” she mumbled, staring at a spot about six feet in front of her and slightly down. “You know, the other ones. It…chased me. They don’t do that…do they? I mean…I’ve never been chased by one like that before. Ever.”
At the last word, she looked up, glancing for a moment at each of them, before looking back down.
“I mean…normally they hunt in packs, and they’ll attack us if, you know, we interrupt a kill, or go in their territory…but that’s just like any other Clan.” Riley’s eyes narrowed.
“This one…pursued me.”
The complicated word was foreign on her tongue, and she moved her mouth a little as if to taste it. She then reverted back to her usual manner of speech.
“That’s…just weird.”
 
Cassian had watched the entire byplay with the same bored, unimpressed look - not that anyone could tell as much, since Shedinja don't have distinguishable eyes. The Lopunny and Altaria were certainly making too large a deal over these injuries; Cassian wondered if they understood just how regular injuries were in this sort of situation. Not that he said as much - the last thing he needed was to hear more of their insipid voices. He privately agreed with the Pidgeot: not washing the blood certainly would bring their enemies back here, if it was as strong as he said (he couldn't tell how strong it was, as Shedinja can't smell.)

Then the Zangoose mentioned something about the injury coming from another of their kind, one that had... gone mad? Having only recently arrived into this Clan, Cassian was unfamiliar with their dealings - he knew nothing of others of their kind that had gone insane.

But he was sure of one thing, however: the Zangoose had been pursued by an enemy, and there was no reason that she wouldn't be pursued again, especially in her condition.

Cassian decided to mention as much: "If there was an enemy that pursued you, it stands to reason that there will be more that will pursue you the moment you set foot outside of the den. Furthermore, how is it that you managed to shake off an enemy of that nature, and thus ensuring that you wouldn't lead it right to us?"
 
Last edited:
Susanna watched Riley walked in, struggling with her wound. She considered helping, but did nothing as pain split would only hurt her. She doubted it would heal the girl's wound.

So she watched as the healing transpired, not saying anything but flinching at the morph's pain. It was correct of her to not use pain split. It would heal soon enough, she figured. Besides, it would ruin her clothing which she worked so hard to get. The sweater of hers... how would she get around with her horn jutting out of her chest? She wouldn't be able to manage as a gardevoir. There would be no more shopping trips, and speaking of which, she was running low on cash...

Riley spoke. The other morphs were pursuing her? There were attacks, but they never followed through. It was getting worse, and next time she might not get away in this salvageable condition. Traveling in groups would be a good idea.

Then Cassian said his input. It was all true, and should probably be considered. She had double team, which could help protect her if need be, but not the whole team? She didn't know their moves, but would they be safe? Stepping out from the shadows, she said, "If we need to leave, we should travel in groups, to be more safe. If we even leave this place at all."
 
"Did you do anything noticable to make them angry? Or something..." London said, wondering. Listening to what Cassian had said, she panicked a bit.

"Are you sure it just turned around and left after it chased and hurt you? What if he's right? We're practically dead if they bring the whole Clan back!" Then again, why would the Bloddwed Clan hurt the rest of them? They had done nothing wrong to them, it was just Riley they were after. But if word got out that there were other outsiders, joining together into their own Clan... She shivered at the thought of being attacked by all opposing clans at once.

"Should we move out, or hope for the best and stay here?" She queried, raising an eyebrow.
 
The sharp edge that pulsed under Riley's voice spread into a tense prickle at the back of Percy's neck. God, he -- it was common sense, that's all, and with her talk of pursual it wasn't as though painting her path in blood would lead them off track. His lips twitched in a human snarl (reason god-knows-what he preferred human shapes -- facial articulation) but he swallowed whatever words that bubbled at his tongue for the time being. Instead he let his glare slip down to the earth and ground his foot into the dirt at the base of the tree.

He wanted as much as anyone to just keep his mouth pressed into a thin line and let the others make their decisions -- but then there was the cocky attention-gathering shedinja and his scathing indifference to everyone, the frail and self-absorbed gardevoir twitching just looking at blood, the -- he felt his fingers clench into each other and the muscles there grew stiff. It was like poison that tasted sugar-sweet, that melted on your tongue and drew you in. He pushed himself off the tree.

"All right, yeah, this is great planning. You seriously plan on just -- leaving, just walking out and praying to whatever goddamn god you have that we're not walking into some fucking trap or that these pokemon aren't hunting us as well as we know they are? That'll definitely work, it's not like some of us are bright fucking blue or anything."

Percy felt his knuckles pushing into his legs where his hands rested but he made no effort now to relax. He had forgotten guilt, welcomed anger, remembered the pure taste of frustration and let it roll on his tongue. They were impressively stupid, for pokemon who had been forced to learn to live on their own; he could have laughed had he not been so irritated with them and so dependent on them. Dependent -- and his bright feeling of hate pushed at his throat and made him a little sick. He didn't move away from the tree; he dared them from its shade.
 
Riley's thoughts chased one another around for a moment in her mind as comments were scattered about by the various others. They were mainly accusatory in nature, disbelieving that she could let her attacker go free. A vivid picture flashed through her head; the loud crack of neck bones and the body of her foe going limp as she killed him. As far as she had seen, that had been the only one. It was certainly the only one that had attacked her.
"I killed it..." she said quietly, although her words went unheard as Percy spoke again, scathingly, accusing her again. She looked up, an ear twitching irritably.
"I killed it, okay?"

Her voice echoed around the small space. For a moment, all was silent.
"Broke its damn neck, I felt it go. It's dead. There was only one."
Riley stood up and quickly shifted, shooting a glance behind her at Percy. Honestly, Her quadruped form was atypical of her species; much more muscular, with thick back legs. She walked on all fours, long black claws scraping the dense earth beneath her. Her leg was by no means fully healed, but she could walk now, at least.
"Nothing followed me. We're fine. But if this gets worse, then maybe we won't be fine forever."
The lingering scent of blood was being swept away on bittersweet air. Riley sat down, looking out at the approaching night.
"Can we go and hunt now? We did decide yesterday that we'd all go. In a group," she added for those who had their reservations.
Riley quietly wished she had have fixed herself before coming back, and not drawn any damn attention. But, she thought as she clambered to her feet and took a few slow steps outside, it couldn't be helped now.

----------------------------------------
Dusk was leaving the forest, replaced by inky midnight blue skies dusted with stars. Several small clouds drift across the large crescent moon. The surrounding forest is dense with trees and contains much thick foliage to hide in. Shadows sit everywhere, and strange noises begin to cry out from the darkness. Many predators are out at this time, but also many ignorant night-foragers.
----------------------------------------
 
Back
Top Bottom