Heather Mason
09 July 2014 @ 08:50 pm
[It's been a few weeks since Heather's terse text post regarding her father-- hardly the longest period of time she's gone in between network posts, but she certainly hasn't been overly talkative.]

[When the video comes on though, it's partially obscured by a fuzzy blue blob-- the 'Gear has been placed on a clothes rack, pointed to view the next aisle over. Specifically, it's showing the back of a shaggy brown head. Henry Townshend, taciturn photography and unsuspecting victim, is slowly picking his way through a rack of swim trunks.]

[Amid the jangling of clothes-hangers, something appears in the corner of the screen.]

[That something is a pair of hands, and between them-- stretched like a rubber band-- is a Speedo.]

[There is a pregnant pause, probably for the sake of letting the network audience take it all in.]

[Then the hands let it fly.]

[Henry lets out a howl and claps a hand to his head as the speedo bounces off of it with a rubbery twang.]


[The camera jostles and the feed ends.]
I'm feeling: mischievous
Heather Mason
[The feed, as per usual when it comes to Heather's Gym Battles, opens from a low vantage point. It's become somewhat tradition for Heather to hand the 'Gear off to one of her able-handed Pokemon so that they can film while she's engaged in the battle.]

[Alessa the Absol is in front, bristling in anticipation of the battle, and Heather, looking more polished than usual but still rougher around the edges than is probably considered appropriate for a big event like this, stands beside her.]

[Above, the golden glass windows mark the gym they're standing in as Saffron.]

[After the 'establishing shot' of Heather and Alessa, the camera jostles around instead to get a more complete view of the arena, with Sabrina now visible on the other end. She's apparently in the middle of giving her usual pre-battle spiel; the nobility of the Psychic type, a brief and succinct history of the Saffron Gym and how it knocked the Dojo next-door well off the playing field...]

[But she cuts herself off with a very knowing look mere seconds before Heather interrupts her with a flat:]

Yeah, yeah.

Let's just get this over with.

[Sabrina nods obligingly (though not without a patronizing 'I knew you were going to do that' smile-- and her Espeon moves into the center of the field along with Alessa.]

Trainers take your positions! )

[The battle's over. There's a smattering of applause and stuff, a loud mechanical voice coming from the general area of the scoreboard and announcing the battle's victor, the usual. Cujo, pleased as punch with himself, has galloped back over to Heather for praise and attention.]

[... But Heather's clapped a hand to her temple, briefly gritting her teeth and shaking her head like it's full of flies. Cujo stops in his tracks and tilts his head in confusion, but it only lasts a second before Heather, ignoring the greetings of those who came to watch her battle, whips around to face the distant Sabrina again.]

Oh, is THAT how this is gonna be?

Real mature.

You think you can scare me with that psychic shit?

[Sabrina, who was still looking somewhat smug despite her loss (apparently at whatever little mental 'parting gift' she'd just sent to Heather), lifts a brow. With a shake of the head, she calls out, calmly:]

You clearly came here with something to prove, Miss Mason.

[Lower jaw jutting out, Heather glares sourly at the Gym Leader.]

Yeah. And I proved it.

Let's go, Cooj.

[She's already started to turn away when Sabrina speaks again.]

I don't believe you have. And neither do you.

[... And then the camera jostles as the cameramon hastily switches it off, apparently anticipating something that may not go particularly well, since Heather has whirled around once more and is marching angrily across the arena towards Sabrina.]

[When the camera comes back on about ten minutes later, it's Heather's face. She still looks somewhat angry, but at least she's calm as she checks the footage.]

Man, screw that noise.

I got the badge, I'm outta here.

Sayonara, Saffron City.

[ooc: To those physically present in the Gym, Heather engaged in a rather heated conversation with Sabrina during the time that the 'Gear was off, but no punches were thrown or anything.]
I'm feeling: determined
Yo, this is where I'm at: Saffron City Gym
Heather Mason
05 May 2013 @ 05:17 pm
[As is fairly regular with Heather, who never really plans AHEAD when she turns her feed on, the video opens with a brief glimpse at something entirely-unrelated!]

[Two large Houndooms, one bare-necked and the other wearing a large, studded leather collar-- are at play in a sunny patch of park. Or more accurately, the big collar-wearing one is TRYING to get the other to play, in a show of big-dog posturing, and the uncollared one is sort of just mild-manneredly humoring him.]

[Right before the camera shifts, though, a blur of blue and yellow barrels into the larger of the two hellhounds and the one-sided playtime promptly becomes an enthusiastic wrestling match between Tricia (the Manectric recently inherited from Cooper) and Huan (the Houndoom even more recently inherited from Otacon).]

[But then it's Heather's face dominating the screen, because she apparently has other things in mind than just showing the network a bunch of dogs running around the park.]



If there's anyone around who knows much about horses... riding horses, specifically...

I'm looking to learn. Any advice's appreciated. Thanks in advance.

[... Well that was unusually businesslike and to the point. ... For someone like Heather, anyway. There's not much humor in the usually-goofy girl's voice today.]

[Before she can flick the 'Gear off, there's a commotion offscreen and she looks off in the direction of the noise, clearly exasperated.]

... TCH, god dammit Cujo.

[The view shifts as she gets up and it becomes apparent that Cujo the Hulking Behemoth of a Growlithe (tm) had decided to join the fray and promptly plowed straight OVER at least two of the participants, who are now chasing after him in a big herd of barking chaos across the park. OH THOSE CRAZY DOGES.]

[End feed.]


HEY. How did you do that shit at the party?

[... well wtf is that supposed to mean, Heather. Clarification is apparently not going to be provided until she gets a reply.]
I'm feeling: aggravated
Yo, this is where I'm at: Saffron City
Heather Mason
24 February 2013 @ 05:45 pm

okay listen up you weedles, I was going through a bunch of old photos stored on this thing and found this one I forgot about from like idk a few months ago or maybe a year or something

it's starter appreciation day so it seemed appropriate to just say a few words or something about that ugly orange thing in the picture with me


I'm feeling: grateful
Heather Mason
06 May 2012 @ 03:39 am
[CLOUDS ABOVE. WATER BELOW. That's what Heather is seeing when she briefly flicks on the audio feed.]

[After spending a whole lot of time trying to ensure through various means that she wouldn't meet an uncertain death trying to fly, enough time had passed and Heather couldn't hold back that classic Mason mother-hen desire to have all the eggs in one place at the same time anymore.]

[In hindsight, though, informing the two she'd gotten on the bird to actually GO SEE that she'd left... AFTER she left, was a bit of a bad decision. Turns out the roaring wind is pretty damn loud when you're that high. She has to raise her voice to be heard.]

Angela. Lisa!

Sorry for the wait. M'finally on my way.

[A pause, punctuated by the whistling wind.]

... Aaaand it'd be good if you could both tell me where you are, too. Prooobably should've asked that before I left.

[But THAT ASIDE... the video feed flicks on then, showing off a vast expanse of blue water below and fluffy clouds above, with Sunny's downy ear-tufts fluttering down towards the bottom of the screen.]

I take back any misgivings I might've had about flying before.

This... is pretty awesome.
I'm feeling: rejuvenated
Yo, this is where I'm at: Somewhere over the Whirl Islands
Heather Mason
[It's quiet.]

[In more ways than one.]

[Actually, 'quiet' is a pretty good word to describe everything over the past few days, from Heather's perspective.]

[She's been quiet. After making an angry spectacle of herself in front of everyone, she hadn't been in much of a talkative mood. The trip down Route 38 had been spent largely in solemn silence, even after Crow had joined them mid-journey-- something that practically didn't seem possible.]

[The network's been quiet. Relatively, anyway. So many previously-prolific voices had vanished. Those who were left had understandably been left to pick up the pieces of everything that had come undone and, well, it's hard to blame them for being quiet-- those ones who had lost people, anyway. God knows Heather couldn't muster the fire to keep getting angrier as word of new disappearances had continued to flow in. The moment when she had seriously considered destroying a harmless Pokemon egg and its contents had been the moment she'd burnt herself out.]

[And, perhaps the only one that's sort of comforting right now, the city is quiet. The hustle and bustle of summer is both long ago and far in the future and as such, Olivine City in February is a great deal calmer than it had been the last time Heather had been here. That's sort of good, really. They've all needed to do a lot of thinking lately.]

[It's morning-- hardly even dawn yet.]

[At first, the camera isn't even SHOWING Heather. More a very close view of the floor, and the railing at the top of the staircase leading up from the lobby of the Olivine Inn. The cameraman is probably a Pokemon, but who knows which one it is... Godzilla has long since retired from his 'Gear-stealing shenanigans and so has Butch, now that he can WOOOOOO and QUAAAAAAG at his beloved Flapper in person.]

[But whichever one it is, it carries the camera with an air of quiet determination, and once it situates itself within view of its trainer, who seems to be sitting silently by a window in the deserted lobby, it sits itself down with a rustle and zooms in.]

[Eyes shut, she almost looks asleep, except for the fact that she's absent-mindedly stroking something with one finger-- something bristly-looking and pale yellow that seems to be in the process of contentedly nuzzling its way under her chin. ... Something with four bright blue eyes not dissimilar to the odd markings on that little egg she had been threatening to crush last week.]

[The video doesn't last long. It lingers on Heather and the new Pokemon for fifteen or twenty seconds, and then shuts off. Whoever had been filming, it seemed, had no agenda outside of showing the network that, no, Heather had not gone through with her impulsive plan. Fortunately.]

[The whole time, Heather just carries on obliviously.]

[Remembering hurts... but there's nothing anybody can do to change that.]

[Half to herself and half to the creature, who doesn't seem to be aware of how close it had come to maybe NOT EVER GETTING TO HATCH, she mumbles after a few seconds.]

... Stage five. I think.

That's acceptance, right?
Currently jammin' to: "Dawn", Poets of the Fall
I'm feeling: resigned
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
Heather Mason

[You know what makes a good alarm clock on Christmas morning? ... Besides small children? ... DOGS.]

[There was once a time when a Christmas with the Masons involved Heather using her father's bed as a trampoline. But by this point, she's more interested in sleeping in. You know, in general. But that's hard to do with Pokemon around.]

Ugh, Cooj-- have you been eating the old socks at the bottom of my bag again...?

[Shoving the Growlithe's blunt muzzle away from her face, she sits up in bed. Most of the other Pokemon (those that are out of their balls) are still asleep, but THAT DOESN'T STOP CUJO OF COURSE. He drops something slobbery in her lap and then shuffles backwards on her bed, rumpling up the blankets in the process. She flaps a hand at him, rubbing her eyes.]

C'mon, boy, you're acting like it's Christmas or someth-- ....



[She looks down at him briefly.]

... Okay, go wake up everybody else.

[Half the time what she tells him to do seems to go in one shaggy ear and out the other, but she doesn't need to tell him to do that twice. As he leaps off the bed in an explosion of happy panting, she finally turns her attention to the object he dropped in her lap.]

... My flashlight?


[Has anyone ever wanted to see live footage of somebody trying to strap one of those dog backpacks to a Growlithe that won't hold still?]

[Well, anyone checking out the network around lunchtime on Christmas Day will get to watch the Adventures of a Hapless Trainer and Her Hyperactive Dog for awhile as Heather tries unsuccessfully to get one of those things on him for about twenty minutes, outside in the snow.]

[After lots of yelling, falling down, and a brief period of getting dragged around (he's big enough to do that by this point...) she loses her grip and he eventually runs off with the damn thing half-fastened. Probably gonna lose it in a snowbank somewhere. Picking herself up, with a grumble, she takes back the PokeGear from whoever had been filming this charming home video (probably Harry or Henry) and shakes her head.]

Man, last time I get Cujo a Christmas present. Ungrateful mutt... [She looks out at the orange dot that is Cujo, clearly visible in the far-off snowy landscape, and waves dismissively.] He'll be back when I start giving treats to all the others.

ANYWAY, uh...

[Turning back to the screen, she swipes a hand under her nose briefly. It's been running in the cold.]

So, Merry Christmas, everyone!

Haven't opened all the gifts yet, but uh, thanks to everyone who sent stuff for us. ... Hope all of mine got through, I kinda mailed some of 'em last minute...

[OH WELL. Shrug. They'd get there sooner or later.]

I'd better go make sure Cooj doesn't lose that thing in a ditch or something, it cost good money. Later!


[OOC: For Ecruteak action, feel free to encounter Heather wandering around town later! She'll be trying to hunt down the friends of hers who are in town so that she can hand them their Christmas swag in person.]

[ALSO feel free to assume your character got their present from Heather, if you haven't already seen the list! I don't think I forgot anybody...]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
I'm feeling: curious
Heather Mason
04 November 2011 @ 05:33 pm
[It's about eight in the morning, the day after Halloween night. Juuuuust the right time for the bright early-morning sun to be shining in through everybody's windows. The Ecruteak Inn in particular is RIGHT in the perfect place for that light to be blaring in, which is why the first thing that shows on the screen (accompanied by the scrapes and jitters of somebody picking the 'Gear up) are the bright white bars of sunlight across the wooden inn-room floor.]

[The next thing it shows is ALSO covered in the bars of sunlight, but it's so BRIGHT that the glare actually maxes out the screen's capacity for a second or two before it adjusts and shows that the gleam is actually the sunlight reflecting in a million little points off of what seems to be a fairly impressive pile of NOT candy like one might expect there to be on somebody's floor after a successful night of trick-or-treating, but... shiny... things?]

[Yes. Shiny things. All kinds. Eyeglasses, doorknobs, strings of still-lit decorative Halloween lights, a genuine police badge, a set of handcuffs, a roll of foil tinsel, some well-polished pots and pans, small hand-held mirrors, coins of all shapes and sizes, more than a few pieces of (gulp) expensive-looking jewelry, a weathervane, several articles of clothing studded with those fake rhinestones, bottles of glitter (as one may imagine, the glitter is now EVERYWHERE), flashlights of all shapes and sizes (all of them are still turned on), a large (and opened) tube of "Sparkle Fun" toothpaste, what appears to be a small army of glossy Mr. Mime-shaped garden gnomes...]

[And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Somebody was productive last night.]

[The unmistakeable sound of a panting dog suddenly invades the speakers and a giant orange blur passes in front of the screen briefly, accompanied by the click-click-click of blunt claws on hardwood.Then the sound of licking, followed by a hoarse groan.]


[Around this point, the view begins to zoom out. .... Erratically and jerkily, like the most poorly-filmed dramatic zoom-out in history, because instead of using the zoom button, the camera-holder is literally scooting backwards across the floor on his butt, all the way to his sleeping bag. Only then is the whole scene revealed.]

[Sprawled across the sparkly spoils of their night on the town are two very, VERY tired teens, now only partially-dressed as the thieving monkey and corvid they started the night out as. Kaito Kuroba is face-down on top of a small, tangled pile of beaded strings (you know, the rainbow-colored kind that hippies hang on their doors), with his monkey-ear headband slid down over the back of his head. And part two of the dastardly duo is flat on her back, half of her poncho rumpled up around her neck and her mask is halfway off. As is expected of someone like Heather, she bears the telltale marks of having apparently gotten into a physical FIGHT with someone at some point during the night, and somewhat LESS expected of someone like Heather, she also has what appears to be an infant Tyrogue clinging to one of her legs.]

[It's like The Hangover, ADD Teenager Halloween Edition.]

[The screen stops jittering once the filmer is safely settled on his sleeping bag once more.]

[Cujo is busy rousing his trainer by licking what's visible of her face while she mumbles protests and sort of feebly slaps him with one hand, while Kaito is dragging his face up off of his uncomfortable-looking pillow and squinting blearily in the bright morning light. Biz the Aipom scampers onto the screen and hops up on his trainer's shoulder to proudly present him one of the many wallets stolen during the night. Nobody particularly notices.]

Wh... huh...?

Cujo, go 'way ... where... whuhappen...

[At last, the mystery filmer finally speaks up, in that mild, quiet tone some of the network may be familiar with as coming from the scruffy, twitchy photographer that follows Heather and her father around and occasionally talks about serial killer owls.]

Oh, you two are up.

Mr. Mason says you have to give all that stuff back today.

[The two teens stare at him blearily, and then down at their piles. ... And then at themselves. Kaito reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and produces a small shower of glitter. Heather lifts her leg in the air with a mildly horrified expression at the pink... thing on her leg. Then they look back at Henry.]

[The feed cuts.]

[BUT A FEW HOURS LATER, a much-more-cleaned-up Heather will be popping onto the feed again, hair still sticking in every direction (she'd had it gelled to look like a Murkrow's head feathers) and glitter still sparkling pretty much... everywhere. ... Including her teeth, when she grins sheepishly.]

Uh... hey, guys... so um... Kaito and I found a bunch of... stuff... that was apparently stolen... by kids in costumes. That totally weren't us.

... So if some weirdos grabbed something from you last night, it might... totally be here.



... Happy Halloween.

[OOC: Action for Kaito and roomies, obviously! Otherwise, if your character was in Ecruteak, feel free to assume that the dastardly duo nicked something from them and will be sheepishly returning it at some point today.
= Kaito, Orange = Heather, Brown = Henry.]
I'm feeling: confused
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City Inn
Heather Mason
27 October 2011 @ 10:35 pm
Hey, 'Zilla, you got the 'Gear?

This stuff NEEDS to be documented.

[That's the first thing that can be heard over the feed. When the camera first comes on, a pair of large, familiar reptilian red eyes are blinking down at it. Is it recording...? Oh, okay, recording! Good.]

[Then it zooms out a little, enough to show-- HEY! That's not the Totodile that last hijacked the 'Gear!]

[With newly black-rimmed eyes, a proud red crest, and a new ultra-manly thickened jaw, it would seem that the bratty little Totodile who'd last been seen moping on the network over whether or not he was a good Pokemon... had finally evolved, after a whole year of wanting to stay 'the baby' of the gang. What prompted his choice to finally start growing up?]

[Well, that's a story that'll have to wait till later, because he lets out a satisfied snort at the sight of the red recording light, and then turns it away from himself-- only for the screen to IMMEDIATELY be filled with a grotesquely-detailed rubber Mightyena mask, snarling and sporting a wild mane of black hair over the top!]


[... Oh wait. The black hair is just Heather.]

[She yanks the mask off, grinning widely.]

I can't even handle all these epically cheesy costumes, man. Some things really ARE universal.

[The camera shifts a little-- it's from a much higher vantage-point than normal now, considering all the previous times the camera-croc's been the one filming, it's been from a vantage point on the FLOOR unless he was able to persuade Honey the Butterfree to carry him-- and it becomes apparent that they're in a costume store. There's rack after rack of jumbled costumes everywhere-- looks like it's already been pretty thoroughly ransacked by local kids, but there's still plenty of stuff left. It's just... everywhere.]

[Hanging the mask back up, Heather bends down to start picking through the other odds and ends, which range from cheesy and cheap-looking to actually fairly interesting.]

Maybe this time around, we'll actually get to ENJOY the holiday instead of spend the whole time running away from rips in the fabric of space and time...

[OOC: Action for anybody in Ecruteak, obviously! Feel free to assume your character is already in the shop, Heather will gladly harass them to try on stupid costume crap with her. Also feel free to address the camera-croc.]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City costume shop
I'm feeling: excited
Heather Mason
20 October 2011 @ 02:38 am
[Before the video shows anything, there's some shuffling sounds, and then the tell-tale noise of a cardboard package being ripped open. Then, Heather's voice, muffled at first, speaks up.]

... Again?

[She sounds surprised. ... Unpleasantly so.]

[The 'Gear is tugged out of her pocket at that point, its view wavering and then settling on the torn-open box she apparently just received by Dragonite delivery, in the Ecruteak inn lobby. The Dragonite in question is already slinging its mailbag over its shoulder and lumbering out the door, visible over the edge of the box.]

[Much like one of Heather's posts from earlier in the month, inside the box sits a single Pokeball. She had pulled out the 'Gear to check the Trainer ID, and doesn't realize it's on yet. There's some clacking noises as she thumbs the buttons a little distractedly... and then she gets her answer.]

... God dammit...

[Her voice had gone from surprised to resigned in a surprisingly short amount of time, but then, given the number of friends of hers disappearing lately... that's hardly surprising. And in this case, it's one that's hitting her a little harder than she might have previously thought. Of all the presences in Johto she hadn't even begun to think might up and poof out of existence one day... and this is one that she'd still had so many questions for.]

[That little praying mantis soul skittering down the streets in my head... that really WAS him, wasn't it.]

[She heaves a sigh and her hand appears, reaching into the box to take the ball out.]

Might as well see who I got...

[She presses the button with her thumb and triggers the obligatory flash of white light...]

.... What the-- ... aw, HELL.

[Wow. From surprised, to resigned, to.... indignant?]

[The dazzling light fades after a second or two, and shows....]


[... A Gengar that, if it were speaking English, would surely be cussing everyone and their grandmothers out in language so foul it would make a sailor blush. Heather is already recoiling from it, groaning out loud. Of course. Of course he'd leave her... THAT.]

God dammit... of all the-- HEY. Hey, GHOST... thing.

[Slightly the Gengar, who had clearly been cooped up in that ball for quite some time during transit and is now in the foulest of moods and wondering where the hell L is, turns his red-eyed glare on Heather, and the 'Gear. >8( WHAT!]

Look, Ryuzaki's ... ghost thing, I know you're probably pissed, but me and ghosts? Don't get along. So if you're gonna-- ... I dunno, be part of my team or whatever, I'd better not get any of that funny business from you, all right?

[She remembers the angry messages scrawled all over L's hotel-room walls, okay?]

[Needless to say, the ghost Pokemon merely scrunches his face up in response. Who's THIS bitch?! He raises both stubby paw-hands and proceeds to flip off his new trainer without so much as a how-do-you-do. Heather (still not visible-- the 'Gear is dangling idly in her hand by her side) just huffs.]

Now, see, that? You can do THAT all you want. Just don't touch my stuff, or my roomies, or do any of your freaky-ass ghost shit, okay? ... Okay. Great. Ugh...

[She starts to turn away. Better go upstairs and brace Henry for the fact that there was now going to be a GHOST hanging around on occasio-- askhg';JGA;LDFKJG';S WHAFUCK--]

And then there was chaos. )





[ooc: Responses will come either... mid-fight or after things have settled down. Ecruteak-goers, feel free to experience the wonder that is a teenage girl rolling around on the floor and trying to punch a ghost.]
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I'm feeling: angry
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
Heather Mason
[So what's the best thing for someone who's been spending their time alternately fretting and pretending not to be fretting over circumstances well beyond their control?]

[A) More fretting
B) Meditation

[If anyone answered anything other than C, they're either very silly, or Cooper.]

[Heather is neither (.... okay, maybe she's the former quite often), so needless to say... when the posters for the Johto-wide fighting tournament going on in Goldenrod City hit the streets, they were the first thing to catch her eye. In fact, anyone spending any amount of time with her in person has probably noticed the way she's been stopping in the middle of whatever she was doing every single time she passes one of the damn things to look at it contemplatively, with a cocked head and a sort of half-wistful, half-devilish look in her eye.]

[As such, nobody whatsoever should be surprised when she pops up on the network on the day of signups ending with one of the flyers in hand. She'd been waffling on account of the fact that her father was sure do disapprove, but... man, she's been spoiling for something like this for months, and she's got... more than a little steam to blow off. Steam that isn't always so easy to blow off in a world where society expects you to resolve all your conflicts by letting animals do your fighting for you.]

YO Johto, what's the happs?

[She grins broadly and then flourishes the poster at the screen.]

Guys. Guys. Look.

Look at this.

Best thing ever, or BEST thing ever?

Who else's gonna sign up?

I'M gonna. ... Assuming the puppy-eyes work on Dad, I guess. They're a little rusty but I was once the puppy-eyes champion so I should be okay. And for anybody weirded out by the surreal idea of ME doing puppy-eyes, ask yourselves this: how ELSE could I have gotten away with all the crazy crap you totally know I got up to as a kid?

[A sly, knowing nod.]

Yeah, makes more sense now, doesn't it.


[Another flourish of the poster.]

So if any of you are planning on being in this thing, gimme a shout! I wanna size up the competition and stuff. ... And also, transportation? I'm in Ecruteak, so... if anyone's in the area, I guess we could carpool, or something? [She's not opposed to the idea of leaping on a strange Pidgeot if she HAS TO, buuuuut...] I mean, the Tournament isn't supposed to LAST too long, so I'm guessin' we'd all only be gone for like... what, a week or two at most? Then I'd be headed back to Ecruteak because seriously, nice place.

Anyway... [She trails off, eyes flicking off to the side of the screen.] I'd better go convince Dad that I won't die if I do this. [Eyes back to the screen, she gives a somber, soldier-like nod and salutes solemnly.] Wish me luck, my people.

[BOOP. End feed.]

Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
I'm feeling: excited
Heather Mason
21 September 2011 @ 08:57 pm
[It's a fairly common occurrence for Godzilla the Totodile to hijack Heather's 'Gear-- he's sort of had an affinity for filming ever since he first hatched, after all. But apart from his one little act of philanthropy a few weeks back, he's actually been surprisingly absent for the most part, at least in the sense that he hasn't been filming with the 'Gear much, with or without permission.]

[But TODAY when Heather's feed fizzles on, it's not the blond trainer but instead the little blue crocodile Pokemon.]

[His pebbled brows are furrowed, though, and ... are those BAGS under his eyes? Is it even possible for reptiles to GET bags under their eyes? Is Heather just rubbing off on him or what?]

[He seems to be sitting on the little balcony outside his trainer's room at the Ecruteak Inn, stubby legs dangling off the edge between the rail bars. Ecruteak is a quiet town at night, and as such there's none of the loud nightlife that characterizes many late-night city posts. Just crickets, and the occasional sound of people or Pokemon moving about in the brightly-lit room behind him.]

[It's a moment or two before he actually says anything, but the look in his red eyes is deeper and more contemplative than the normally self-centered little animal usually has.]

... What do you have to do to be a good Pokemon?
I'm feeling: contemplative
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City Inn
Heather Mason
10 September 2011 @ 05:23 pm
[It always seems like autumn in the woodland town of Ecruteak. But when it's actually autumn, the colors are mind-blowing.]

[Heather might not be one of those 'let's walk quietly in nature and be alone with our thoughts' types, but she can appreciate the beauty of the world when she sees it! Which is why, accompanied by a small chorus of footsteps as she and the rest of the gang tromp into Ecruteak City, she's got the 'Gear out and is pointing it around at the explosion of color decorating the trees.]

Man, why did we skip this place again? It's friggin' gorgeous. Reminds me of home!

[New England autumns were one thing she had sort of missed since coming here. There weren't many of those]

[As the quaint buildings start coming into view, though, the 'Gear spins as she turns to the rest of the group-- her father, Henry, and the terrible trio of Kaito, Crow, and Aoko. ... Along with, of course, the Pokemon ambling alongside them all (or being carried).]

Hey, I dunno if you guys wanna go on to the inn or whatever, but I'm gonna make a quick stop at the Mart, okay? If you don't wanna come in with me, I can catch up with ya later. [Doop doop gotta restock on sun lotion. :I]

[She heads into the store, greeted by the swish of the doorway and a burst of air-conditioning-- summer's still clinging on enough to make the sunny day hot, even in September. A couple of minutes of browsing later (a nice shady inn room and a nap sound awesome right now, so she's not exactly into lingering), she approaches the counter with her purchase (and a little bottle of Aprijuice for Godzilla because he had tugged on her shirt and looked pitiful when they passed the display) and puts them down, digging in her bag and speaking to the cashier a little distractedly.]

Hey, could you feed the receipt into my 'Gear so I can keep track? Thanks.

[She sort of forgot the camera was on, apparently-- but the cashier takes the 'Gear and does so, before pausing and blinking down at the screen.]

... Oh! Your name's Heather Mason?

[... Buh?]

Uh... yeah. Why?

[Is it bad that her first thought is that this guy is like the Jennies from Violet and actually remembers that time a warrant for arrest went out with her name on it? But he doesn't seem accusatory-- instead, he's propping the 'Gear on the counter and bending down to get something from under the register.]

We received a package with your name on it a little while ago and we've been holding onto it. Here.

[He passes over a slender box, with a few stickers and stamps on it-- looks like it's been sent around a few different places before it finally found her. Looking confused, Heather takes it, looking down at it with furrowed brows.]

... There's no sender name on it?

[The cashier shrugs, making a baffled 'iunno' noise.]

[Heather glances downwards at the two Pokemon who had come with her into the shop, who look just as baffled as she does. ... Well, Arty kind of looks... angrily baffled, but there you go. Then, shrugging, she slips the top off the box and pulls out its contents.]

[Two Pokeballs ... and a worn-out old cloth green headband.]

[Heather's heart sinks immediately. She knows exactly who this package is from...]

[A few minutes later, she emerges from the shop, the bandanna carefully folded back into the box and put in her bag for safekeeping, but the Pokeballs are still in her hand. Stopping once she's out in the sunlight, she puts her bag down and looks at the balls contemplatively for a moment or so, before turning her head to look at the autumn foliage again.]

... I'll take care of 'em, Dave.

[... Wow okay, mumbling to thin air like he could hear her. That was dumb. ... But it made her feel a little better, anyway.]

[Rolling her shoulders, she puts a grin on her face and tosses the Pokeballs into the air, releasing their residents in the usual bright flash of light. Even if Snake was gone... it's good to see them again.]

[She raises her arms to meet the joyful trills of the larger of the two, and as she does so, looks over her shoulder and hollers--]

HEY, DAD! Wanna see what Lisa's gonna look like when she's all grown up? )

[ooc: Responses will come shortly, gonna go get somethin to eat B). Action for anyone in Ecruteak!]
I'm feeling: nostalgic
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
Heather Mason
[The feed opens in a decidedly innocent fashion. It's jauntily wobbling back and forth as its holder walks, and the screen is filled by a big blue :D face, backed by an even bluer sky. ... And the occasional waving green tips from the sand dunes he's passing. Yes, Butch the Quagsire is on the beach, waddling happily down to the shore with Heather's 'Gear-- perhaps stolen in hopes of being able to carry on a happy WOOOOO-filled long-distance conversation with Flapper.]

[But an angry-sounding gurgle rings out behind him-- and Butch turns to face his pursuer, who is equally blue, but a great deal smaller.]



[What follows is a very shaky view of the sky jittering around as the two Pokemon engage in a fierce tug-of-war over the gadget. Occasionally their faces pop into view, and while it's more or less impossible for a Quagsire to actually look angry, it's obvious that it's a heated debate. Finally, apparently deciding that it's too much trouble, Butch lets go of the 'Gear with a huffy 'QUA!' and waddles off.]

[Godzilla's concerned red eyes appear in front of the screen as he checks over the 'Gear delicately, as if checking to make sure it wasn't damaged. Anyone who's gotten used to the Totodile's presence in Heather's transmissions before may note that he seems a lot more... contrite than usual, maybe? Which has actually been the case ever since the OMNOM ELBOW incident a couple months before... strange.]

[In any case, once satisfied, he sets off waddling back across the sand, determinedly. If anyone's actually cared enough to keep watching that long (or is just tuning in now), his destination becomes apparent immediately.]

[In a shady spot juuuuust where the sand starts to shift over to grass and trees, Heather is sprawled on her back on an unused old picnic table, arms folded behind her head, along with her wadded-up vest for a pillow. There's a few old chip bags and soda bottles scattered around the little sun-dappled area, but it would seem that whoever left them had probably packed up and left much earlier, since Heather's the only one there.]

[... That's probably why she's there... judging from the dull, despondent quality of the way she's staring up at the foliage above.]

[And then she's lost from view briefly, as Godzilla struggles to clamber up to her, first onto the bench-seat, and then the tabletop itself. Then he's standing next to her and fumbling with the 'Gear, giving viewers a view first of her jeans pocket, then one hand, then the card-deck pattern on her shirt, then (inexplicably) a zoomed-in view of worn-out wooden table-top, before it finally settles on her face as he presents the 'Gear to her with a self-important gurgle that can only be an attempt to tattle on Butch.]

[At first, she doesn't even turn her head. It's pretty obvious her mind is elsewhere. But when he tries again, this time nudging her shoulder with the 'Gear, a flicker of irritability crosses her face and she looks over.]

... Zilla, what--

[... Oh. It's the 'Gear. ... And the damn red light is blinking.]

[... Heather frowns with lidded eyes and shoves the 'Gear away.]

Get that thing outta my face.

[The Totodile makes an apologetic (and slightly hurt) sound, but relinquishes the 'Gear when she takes it and ends the feed abruptly.]

[Private text to Harry Mason and Henry Townshend]


I was thinking maybe we could try and head east to Ecruteak City in a few days??

We've been here awhile now
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
I'm feeling: distressed
Heather Mason
[So something happened that morning. Something ... owly.]

[What, exactly, do you do when you suddenly find yourself in possession of way more fluffy spherical owls than anyone would know what to do with?]


[Anyone in Olivine City, whether they've settled down with a house or are just staying there temporarily, may witness a rather odd sight on this sunny Saturday afternoon.]

[A teenage girl and a scruffy twenty-something man, toting bold-printed signs and... what seems to be a large red wagon full of Hoothoots]

[Behind them, a rambunctious oversized Growlithe, and-- a little further back-- a middle-aged fellow in a brown coat (despite the summer heat), toting a Togepi and a Pichu and keeping his distance, because it's totally uncool for a parent to walk right next to the kids while they're trick-or-treating (although either he or one of the Pokemon would seem to be filming them surreptitiously with the 'Gear on and off, judging by the snippets of Hoothoot Sale Adventures occasionally popping up on the network).]

[... Or in this case, being the best little owl salesmen ever. Even if Henry doesn't particularly look like he wants to be there. Still, the little parade almost looks like it needs some kind of ridiculous owl-selling theme music.]

[Throughout the day, if anyone has a residence in Olivine, they may have THIS show up on their doorstep:]

[... And the girl will glance over at her companion, see that he's not planning on speaking up, and then clear her throat loudly.]

HEY there, good sir and-or madam!

Would you like to buy an owl?

[ooc: Anyone over the network is free to purchase their own adorable roly-poly spherical owl for 500P! It's assumed that any left will be sold to people here and there in Olivine. Except for the derpiest two. Heather has special recipients in mind for those.]
I'm feeling: mischievous
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
Heather Mason
[Oh, man. Oh man, oh man, oh man.]

[It had taken an entire year.]

[For a couple months past 365 days, Heather's life had been blessedly free of something she'd always known was possible but had never seriously considered would happen. Lulled into a false sense of security by her general good luck regarding which people from her own world showed up here, she supposed.]

[All decent folks. No cultists. No creepers.]

[... Until now.]

[It takes her a bit to decide exactly what she's going to do about it. She can't just sit there, after all. She has to tell some people. ... Not everybody. That would be stupid, and attract unwanted attention. Not to mention, he'd probably just find it funny. No, she'll just... tell a few.]

[Some people who already knew a little about... that place. She'd already GOTTEN a message from L, which meant that she wasn't the only person paying attention. But she's not so sure about the rest of her friends. So without any further ado...]

[PRIVATE TEXT to: Kaito Kuroba, Rise Kujikawa, Envy, Liquid Snake, Hal 'Otacon' Emmerich, Dale Cooper, Ironhide, Ken Amada, and Miles Edgeworth]

If you've got a free moment, I gotta talk to you. It's important.

[... There. That'll do for starters...]

[Shutting the 'Gear, she sets it down on the bed for the moment. Now to take care of the OTHER thing.]

Hey, Dad? Henry?
I'm feeling: stressed
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City Inn
Heather Mason
31 July 2011 @ 11:11 pm
[What tiiiiiiiiiiime is it?]


[The feed, as often is the case whenever Heather actually films one of her battles, seems manned by the resident camera-crocodile, and airborne thanks to Honey the ever-patient Butterfree (although not quite as airborne as it was back in Violet City during the victory over Falkner-- Godzilla isn't exactly a little baby anymore...]

[Nonetheless, the fight is filled with the usual combo of snippy one-liners from Heather and NON-STOP ACTION, because man, if it's gonna be broadcast, might as well make it showy! The first half of the battle is largely dominated by Cujo-- but when Jasmine sends out her monstrous Steelix, Heather recalls the pup and turns briefly to the camera to smugly reassure the viewers--]

Cooj totally has this, but it wouldn't be fair to let him have ALL the fun, y'know?

[With a knowing grin, she promptly hucks a different ball onto the field-- releasing a dainty Ponyta.]

GET 'em, Carousel!

[For something that had been a gangly little foal around Christmas, Carousel's done a lot of growing-- which is PARTICULARLY evident in the fight that she proceeds to put up against the metal snake's attacks, prancing and leaping to avoid most of the blows-- Heather had clearly been training her quite a bit during the month or so she'd been in Olivine by now.]

[Although, something a little odd-- which could of course be because of Zilla's filming, the Totodile doesn't exactly have the steadiest hands (claws?) when it comes to holding the camera... but... did Carousel suddenly get quite a bit BIGGER as she came leaping over the Steelix's flaming coils...?]

[... HUH. Well, whaddya know. What lucky timing!]

[As the Steelix comes crashing down to the Gym's sandy floor, rolling feebly to put out the flames, the audience is treated to a very artistic sideways view of the a set of long, snowy legs trotting over to their trainer, who is looking surprisingly NOT triumphant over her victory. In fact, she looks kinda... shell-shocked. Aaaand then the camera swings away again to show the defeated Gym Leader, who fortunately handles these sorts of things a LOT more gracefully than You-Know-Who in Goldenrod...]

My goodness...

[The camera shuffles a short distance away so it can get a good view of both trainers-- Zilla wants to give people the FULL EXPERIENCE, after all!]

That was a quite exciting battle... Did you know your Ponyta was about to evolve?


[Shooting the now-Thoroughbred-sized animal beside her an unsure look, Heather startles sideways slightly when the Rapidash stretches her neck out to nose at the side of her face. Shuffling a step or two to the side, she pats Carousel's nose distractedly, more with the intention of pushing her gently away than anything else.]


Well! What a... lucky coincidence! ... I'm sure you would have done fine anyway, though... your Pokemon are quite the little spitfires! Please, um... take the Mineralbadge. You've earned it!


[Too distracted to even snicker at the unintentional pun, Heather sloooowly steps away from the fiery unicorn and starts to head across the sand towards the camera to claim her prize-- which is where the feed cuts out.]
I'm feeling: uncomfortable
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City Gym
Heather Mason
13 July 2011 @ 11:48 pm
[The screen is slightly steamed up when it comes on, but it soon clears enough to give a shaky view of the ... bathroom floor, and part of a towel? It doesn't stay there, though. Instead, the focus seems to be (or is TRYING to be) on the football-sized black thing zipping across the floor and out of view.]

[Then the camera awkwardly turns to the face of its holder, who apparently just get out of the shower, judging by the way her hair is plastered down wetly around the sides of her face and the towel she's got wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. Said shoulders are hunched. Apparently she's perched on the edge of the bathtub. No questionable steamy semi-nude shots from THIS girl, though-- this is SERIOUS BUSINESS, and Heather's voice is an odd mix between amused, proud, and exasperated.]

This is a Public Services Announcement about why you shouldn't let your Pokemon into the bathroom when they're about to level up even if they do like playing in all the water leftover after a shower.

Watch and be enlightened.

[The camera turns to the floor again as Heather slowly and methodically sticks one foot out and sets it down on the tile.]

[INSTANTLY and without any warning, the black thing comes streaking back onto the camera with the intention of violently attacking its trainer's toes with a long yellow beak and a volley of chittering squawks.]

[Heather yanks her foot up again with a small shriek and the Murkrow goes scuttling off behind the sink.]

See? SEE?

Here, I'll repeat the demonstration for anyone who may have missed that.

Everybody watching?

[She repeats the motion, this time putting both feet on the ground.]

[The attack-crow reappears, wings flared and beak wide-open. It squabbles and pecks around in circles around Heather's feet for a second or two before, once again, skittering off across the floor to hide in the bath curtains, tiny claws clicking on the tiles.]

I can't make it more than a couple of steps without getting Murkrow'd. I used to be able to outrun her, but now she's like an unstoppable toe-eating machine.

And all because of this.

[She presses a button on the 'Gear to make it repeat its last automated message. Which it does, in a cheerful computerized voice.]

WREN grew to LEVEL 5! WREN learned PURSUIT!
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City Inn
I'm feeling: mischievous
Heather Mason
[You know when you wake up and you feel like there's a leaden weight sitting on your chest, stopping you from moving? Most of the time when that happens, it's because of sleep paralysis. Somewhat less of the time, it's a close encounter of the third kind. ... This time, however, it's a very large Furret curled up neatly in the middle of Heather's chest, taking advantage of the fact that her trainer both produces heat and is stationary and comfortable, AND of the fact that there is currently a brief moment in which nobody is looking over in this direction to shoo her away.]

[... Except that Heather's not going to be stationary much longer.]

[The first thing that happens that disrupts the vacant, sleeping stupor of Heather's face is a wince and a scrunched nose, because fluffy Furret tails are not the best things to have brushing up against your nostrils when you're coming out of a deep sleep.]


[Ffffh what was-- what. Oh, ow. Opening eyes that haven't seen light in a good seven days kind of hurts. And trying to talk through a throat that hasn't made a single noise kind of hurts too, which is why all that Heather manages at first is a sort of croak.]

[But that croak is enough to get SOMEBODY'S attention.]

[From the foot of the bed, Cujo snorts into wakefulness from where he's been faithfully sleeping on his trainer's ankles. With a deep wuff, he surges to his feet and joyfully clambers over the blanketed body, stepping on Arty and causing her to vacate her perch atop Heather's chest with an indignant hiss, until he's standing over her with a great big doggy smile and a paw on either side of her.]

[Heather squints up at him, scrunching up her face. On one hand, the sight of those floppy orange ears and big black nose is one for sore eyes, but on the other... oh god does she not want to see a dog right now after the kinds of dreams she'd been having...]

[Coughing and lifting her arms weakly, she tries to shove him away long enough for her to get her bearings.]

Cooj, gimme some spac-- acklPHTHG OFF.

[No force in this world or any other could stop Cujo from greeting his favorite human being's return to wakefulness with lots of licking. Startled into a slightly more awake state, Heather makes a still-sleepy noise of disgust and shoves feebly at the Growlithe, scooting away.]

Dammit, mutt, I mean i--

[Turns out, trying to slip out of bed after not moving for a week? Hurts, too. WHOMP. Face, meet hotel room floor. And possibly part of Henry's sleeping bag.]


[A few minutes later, presumably after proving sufficiently to her father that she's not DEAD, the feed clicks on, revealing a very, very bedraggled Heather who looks like she went a week WITHOUT sleeping instead of spending the whole time unconscious.]

Mornin'.... what'd I miss?

[ooc: Because the nightmare threads will likely affect CR pretty strongly, I'll tag them as long as anybody wants/it takes them to be finished! I'm also fine with discussing their outcomes, though, if anyone needs a conclusion right away.]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine hotel room
Heather Mason
[OOC: As usual, please feel free to skip over my long-ass prose! As usual, I apologize heartily for the spam but I couldn't let an occasion like this pass entirely without getting all sappy and BAWWW over it. Action is open to anybody in Olivine City!
also I used something from an ooc prose thing I wrote awhile ago so if some of this sounds familiar, YOU KNOW WHY]


There were a lot of things that really set this place apart from Goldenrod City.

One was the smell of the ocean. Goldenrod was a beach city, yes-- but somewhere in the middle of the smell of exhaust (nowhere near as bad as a city back home, though-- this place seemed obsessively eco-friendly for the most part), hot-lunch carts, and the sharp sweetness of the bursts of golden-colored blooms that overflowed from every park and balcony-garden, that deep, rich ocean smell was lost when you weren't right next to the damn thing.

That wasn't the case here.

In fact, as she hiked up the steep, old-timey flagstone streets of Olivine, the ocean was practically the only thing there every time she inhaled. Maybe it was because she'd just been down by the docks, but she didn't think so. No, she was pretty sure the whole city just smelled like this. Kinda liked it, in fact. Reminded her a little of home. She hadn't lived on the beach-line, but you could hop on the subway and get to the coast in perhaps an hour, tops-- that had been one of the few vacationy places that her father had been willing to take her when she was little. Lots of fond, sunny memories... Not that those rocky old Maine beaches had anything on the one she'd just walked up from.

"Hurry it up, drooly, or we'll miss the whole thing," she called over her shoulder, kicking a foot to dislodge some of the beach's contents from where it had gotten trapped between the sandal's sole and her own, sending a small cascade of the silky sand onto the already-sandy street-- that was the other thing about beach cities-- didn't quite matter how far up you got from sea-level. In the same way you could expect glitter to make its way all around the building if even one sixth grader decided they wanted their science poster to be sparkly, there was no escape from sand in a beach town.

From further down the street behind her, the damp Growlithe she'd addressed ceased his curious sniffing of a pot of sleeping Oddishes on somebody's doorstep, and broke up into a gallop to catch up with his trainer... Whereupon he slowed into a trot and proceeded to shake wet sand all over her.

"ACKplth! Cujo!"

When the spray stopped, she put her arms down and shot the dog a glare, only to be met with his usual expression of contentment as his tongue lolled out and his shaggy tail wavered back and forth.

A year ago, Heather would have turned away and grumbled foul things under her breath-- or even shoved him away with her foot-- only BARELY gently enough to not call it a kick.

Instead, she was only able to keep the glare up for a few seconds before it melted into an gentle eye-roll as she turned away, continuing to climb the steep streets on legs that last summer would have burned unpleasantly at all this uphill walking but now hardly noticed. "C'mon, you mangy mutt..."

A lot could change in a year.

A few blocks blocks higher saw the pair pause again as Heather halted on a tight corner, turning to survey the horizon. They'd made pretty good time, all things considered-- especially since they'd been all the way down on the beach just ten minutes before.

"I guess we're high enough..."

Another thing that set Olivine City apart from Goldenrod was how close everything was.

Sure, in that shiny golden city, everything was new-- tall, sleek buildings and shiny windows and great big alleys all in between. Here, as Heather mused, biting back a strained noise as she clambered onto a wheelbarrow in one of the narrow, weedy little yards to peer into the dark, dusty windows of a nearby house, everything was closer together. There were more bumps and hand-holds to grab to carry yourself up off the streets with-- it felt older. More familiar. Sort of like Johto itself did, now. Or maybe... maybe that was just her. She was okay with that.

After a few seconds of squinting, Heather nodded, then hung grimly onto the rough stone edge of the sill as she nudged the wheelbarrow out of the way with one foot and dangled before dropping back to solid ground with a sandy scrape and a grunt.

"Okay, no one's home-- c'mon, Cooj, hup!"

It would occur to her, later, that returning him to his ball and just climbing up herself, might have been easier. But as difficult as it was to have a big, wriggly (and wet) animal the size of a young St. Bernard hop into your arms without your legs buckling, for some reason, she couldn't quite bring herself to mind.

"OOF-- starting tomorrow, I'm puttin' you on a diet, fatass-- HEY, you're really not helping, here! Cut it out or I'll find an axe n'give you a makeover to look like the dogs from back home!" The words were threatening, and the tone would have been, too, if she hadn't been desperately (but somewhat unsuccessfully) trying to muffle the involuntary giggles that came with having a big sloppy canine tongue assaulting any part of her face and neck it could reach. A year ago, it would've sent her nerves into a panic-- but, well, we've already covered what can happen in a year's worth of time.

Stumbling over to a rock wall towards the back of the tiny yard, Heather shoved the squirming dog up onto it with some difficulty (as well as a disgusted "BLEAGH" noise as she tried to wipe some of the slobber off of her face with one shoulder), then proceeded to climb up behind him, herself.

Note to self, sandals: not the best climbing footwear ever.

Once she'd hauled herself upright, arms out for balance, she took another look at the skyline, pausing to catch her breath.

"Whew ... okay, we still got time. C'mon, boy."

A wobbly fence, a few broken shingles, and more than one canine backslide later, Heather crouched at their destination, reaching out with one hand to tug Cujo up beside her and sucking on a scraped finger with the other.

"Okay, I gotcha-- waitasec, you're slip-- nah, okay, you got it. Good boy."

Read more under the cut! )
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
I'm feeling: jubilant
Currently jammin' to: "Seasons of Love", RENT