Heather Mason

.... Yeah.

Yeah, you're in the complete wrong region.

Mount Moon's in Kanto.

[Heather huffs out a sigh and takes hold of Cujo's mane as the wayward Grey and his weird spacedog head back to their spaceship, which had landed conveniently on top of one of the Pokemon Centers, barely even remarkable in the middle of all the other chaos that's happening.]

Man, at this point, the only thing that could surprise me on weekends like this are things staying normal.
Yo, this is where I'm at: Anywhere
I'm feeling: apathetic
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.]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Saffron City Gym
I'm feeling: determined
Heather Mason
[You know what?]

[Heather's not even sure why she TRIES anymore.]

[So done. So done.]

Here we go again.

... Yes, Cooj, I still love you.

Just not right now.
Currently jammin' to: the dulcet tones of Cujo wheezing in my ear
Yo, this is where I'm at: Saffron City
I'm feeling: aggravated
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.]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Saffron City
I'm feeling: aggravated
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

[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
23 December 2011 @ 12:28 am
[The shaggy, retreating backside of a panting Growlithe trotting through the snow and a view of worn, upside-down brown boots tromping along hurriedly after him is the first thing to greet the screen. Accompanying the hurried crunch-squeak of footsteps through good fresh snow is Heather's aggravated voice.]



Come on, it's COLD! Don't pull this. I will skin y-- COOJ!

[The 'Gear probably bumped against her leg or something and came on by accident-- cue SHAKYCAM dog chase! Up ahead, Cujo stops briefly and whirls gleefully in the snow to face his trainer. Instantly the cause of his flight is seen-- he's got one of her gloves in his mouth and clearly decided that now would be a great time to play Keepaway. He pauses briefly with his rump in the air and tail wagging slowly-- only to turn tail and go gallumphing off through the snow again as soon as Heather (and the camera) get close enough to try and make a grab.]

[Heather curses viciously under her breath and the chase begins again, complete with hollered threats.]

[... But eventually the angry yells of 'I AM GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A TIGER-SKIN RUG AND THEN HENRY WILL SLEEP ON YOU' trail off and are replaced by a brief, uncertain silence, followed by an alarmed-sounding tone.]

Wh-- Cooj-- ... No.

[The motion had stopped briefly, but it quickly picks up again as Heather breaks into a sprint.]

Nononononononono COOJ! Don't!

[In the midst of all the shakiness, the 'Gear shifts just long enough to show what Heather is apparently so upset about-- and that is Cujo's creamy tail far ahead disappearing into a building-- a hulking, charred, broken building. The Burned Tower. Or what was left of it, anyway...]

[Out of breath, Heather pauses when she reaches the slight plateau the tower's foundations sit on, briefly wheeling to look back down the hill at the town below, then back at the dark entrance. Waffling between going in or just yelling for Cujo at the doorway.]

... God dammit... COOJ!

[She steps through the doorway and into the dark interior of the building. Now that the camera's not shaking all over the place, she's holding it up for the sake of illumination, turning slowly in place to take in the charred walls around her. There's shafts of light cutting through the broken areas up top, and snowflakes drift down in the breeze like ashes.]

... God this place is creepy... My kingdom for a flashlight... Cuuuujoooo... c'mon, boy, where are you?

[The wood creaks underfoot as she steps forward. The place has that eerie silence that only ruined places have, and is it sorta freaking Heather out? You bet. Her voice takes on a singsong tone to distract herself from the smell of the burnt wood.]

Cuuujoooooo... if you come out, I'll give you all my leftover beef jerrrkyyyy...

... Or one of Henry's shoooooes?

... C'mon, mutt, I can HEAR you panting somewhere over there, just c'mon ou--

[... And then there is an ominous groan immediately followed by an EXPLOSIVE crackling of wood and a startled holler. The visual is immediately replaced by darkness, and a THUD signals an abrupt meeting with the ground.]

[Accompanied by the pitter-patter of falling splinters and dusty, Heather sits up, coughing and holding up the 'Gear again.]

UGH... hell...

[A bright hole above her (which she apparently just CREATED) swivels into view as she aims the 'Gear upwards. A familiar orange canine head pops into view over the edge of the hole still with the stolen glove in his mouth.]

... I am SO not getting you anything for Christmas.

[There's a hollow thumping noise as his tail whacks against the floor above and Cujo promptly drops the glove down the hole. It hits the screen and bounces off, hitting the floor. Heather reaches out and picks it up, giving it a shake.]

Great. Thanks. That is super helpful. Really.

You're like Lassie.

What would I do without you-- oh crap.

[In the classic tradition of shaky-cam horror movies everywhere, there was a noise somewhere off-camera (a low, crackling rumble of sorts) and immediately the view whipped around-- showing a brief flash of something off in the darkness coming around a corner. Something lizardlike and fiery. Then the feed cuts.]

[ooc: Video responses will take place an hour or so after the feed, from a slightly singed-looking Heather.]
Yo, this is where I'm at: The Burned Tower, just outside Ecruteak.
I'm feeling: annoyed
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
[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
[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! )
Currently jammin' to: "Seasons of Love", RENT
I'm feeling: jubilant
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City
Heather Mason
27 May 2011 @ 11:13 pm
[They say the only city with food better than Goldenrod is Olivine.]

[But after those two (or was it three? The frantic digging of trenches and building of miniature barricades against the tides had made them rush past in a blur) days spent spitting out saltwater and getting dirty in the muddy spray of the 'line of fire', Heather was pretty sure that even the crappiest hot meal would taste like edible heaven.]

[The diner next to the Pokemon Center is small, crowded, and smells like wet Pokemon, but it's a nice respite from the last vestiges of the dying storm outside.]

[An UTTERLY filthy Cujo is lying under the table like an enormous slug, letting out groaning dog snores. Having done the bulk of Heather's digging himself (she couldn't exactly wield a decent shovel without popping the stitches on that arm), he's completely tuckered out after all that excitement. Now relatively dry and warm (though still muddy) and full of food that had been graciously provided by the diner's owner (on account of him being a "hardworking doggie, whozzagoodboy!"), Cujo was all too happy to just lie there and provide a nice footrest for his trainer's aching feet.]

[Heather, for her part, has her head down on the table when the feed comes on, although after an admonishing "Heather, you're getting mud on the tablecloth," from an off-screen Harry, she lifts it again with a groan.]

[As the camera turns, there's a dizzying spin of color, but a couple of glimpses of the fish and chips on the table-- and the sulking, muzzled-and-leashed Totodile sitting on one of the chairs. Then the focus settles on Heather's face. It's smudged as all hell and her hair has that wiry blown-away look that only someone who's been standing out in a stiff ocean wind can achieve.]

So yeah, uh...

For anyone who didn't take the Road Trip From Hell all the way up here to Olivine, in case you haven't heard it from somebody else yet, things are A-OK, looks like.

The weather's dying down and the ocean's receding.

... And, uh... stuff.

[Looking a little distracted for a second, she glances off-screen and mumbles.]

Hey Dad, can I borrow one of those notebooks for a sec? ... Thanks.

[There's a brief rustle of paper as she takes something from the other side of the table an uncaps a pen with her teeth, tucking the cap up in the corner of her mouth. There's sounds of scribbling as she continues to talk, her eyes looking down at something below the screen.]

So anyway... once the rain's all gone, Dad'n I might take off again... There's no way we're gettin' on that stupid bus, though. I think I prefer taking a hike to trying to cheat death every time something big enough to crash into comes into the windshield's view...

But yeah, uh, in the meantime, if any of you're still working out there, pack it up and come try this diner out, the french fries are awesome.

And I kinda wanna see how many people can pack into this place before it explodes.

[And with her usual cheeky smirk, she waves a bandaged hand gingerly at the camera and ends the feed there.]

[Once she tucks the 'Gear back into her bag, she leans back in her seat, looking down at her notepad. The diner's so cheerfully noisy that probably only those directly nearby, whoever they may be, can hear what she mumbles to herself.]

So... guess Johto has gods, after all.

Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine City Diner
I'm feeling: accomplished
Heather Mason
01 April 2011 @ 05:11 pm

[This is what one might see if they are outside on April Fool's Day in the fine city of Goldenrod.]

[When Heather set out from Violet, she did it with a vengeance-- making it to her destination in record time purely by force of will. .... Well, okay. Snake and Solid the Onix helped out a little too. But REGARDLESS, it looks like she made it just in time for the stormclouds to come rolling in.]

[Johto, you been PUNK'D.]

[By the time the lobby doors to the big hotel she had left about two months before slide open and Heather staggers inside, she's thoroughly drenched and gasping. Not even sprinting through the deluge (which had blown in fast, as deluges often do-- the last quarter-mile to Goldenrod had been a mad dash to try and beat the roiling sky. She hadn't made it.]

[Spluttering and dripping everywhere, Heather stumbles into the lobby, letting the doors slide shut behind her to be drummed on incessantly by the big fat raindrops.]

[Cujo, who looks surprisingly happy for a Fire type about being wet, prances in alongside her and proceeds (much to the disdain of the bellboy who had started over to her with the intention of offering her a towel, only to quickly change his mind when he saw what was about to happen) to SHAKE. OFF. EVERYWHERE. And with a coat as shaggy as his? Fur could hold half its weight in water. Once he's finished, he happily goes gambolling off across the lobby to re-investigate the potted plants that he hasn't seen in a month or two. SUP PLANTS.]

[Heather, meanwhile, is doing some shake-drying of her own, sluicing water off of her hair vigorously. BRRRRRRRR. The bellboy is crying on the inside.]


When they say April showers bring May flowers, but I didn't expect it to hit on the first, on the DOT.... Cooj, if you 'mark' those potted plants and get us thrown out into the rain, I will leave you in a box on someone's doorstep.

[Now giving the dripping coat that she'd been using as an (ineffective) umbrella a shake (in the bellboy's mind, Heather's threat level went from amber to red) or two, she grabbed up the strap to her bag and started to drag it towards the thankfully-carpeted sitting area, leaving a big watery trail the whole way (WHY COULDN'T HE HAVE GONE ON TO BE A SPORTS ANNOUNCER LIKE HIS MOTHER WANTED INSTEAD OF BEING A BELLBOY SOB).]

[Once there, Heather popped down into a squat on the carpet, whistling for Cujo while she rummaged in her pockets for the Pokeballs containing her companions.]

Boy, sure am glad I decided to take Alvaro with me... Sure hope these things are waterproof. [Fearing that shoving the orphaned Cubone into a BOX right off the bat would damage its fragile emotional state even MORE, Heather had opted to take him with her. Here's hoping that decision wouldn't bite her in the butt. At least Carousel had been box'd-- Heather had already witnessed the wonder that was a drenched Ponyta trying to re-ignite its mane and she wasn't sure her already-shot nerves could take the stress of watching a pony shed sparks everywhere.]

Good, nobody fell outta my pocket-- hey, Claudy, c'mon, get outta there, I gotta check on my stuff...

[Tossing the bag's flap open, she ushers the damp, ruffled-looking owl out of the bag. Claudy picks her way delicately onto the carpet and fluffs up to about twice her size before starting to preen unconcernedly. Heather watches the display with a roll of her eyes.]

Y'know, if you'd just go in the ball like a NORMAL Pokemon, that bag would've weighed like half as much. Probably would've been able to beat the rain if I hadn't had to lug YOU around, too... Man, my 'Gear better not be busted...

[She reached into the bag to fish around for the contraption in question-- ... and stops.]

.... Claudy, what the fuck, did you cough up a pellet the size of GOD in here or--

.... Oh.

.... What the--


[The camera turns on. Its feed is focused first on Claudy's head. She's grooming something, but all that can be seen for the moment is her feathers as they bob up and down.]

This.... this is an owl.

[The camera shifts away from the Noctowl and over to the bag, giving a nice view of the inside of Heather's bag (partially emptied so that her stuff could dry. Littering the bottom of the bag are crushed fragments of eggshell.]

Owls lay eggs.

[And then... then the camera zooms out a little, and moves back over to Claudy-- who can now be seen in full, contentedly preening a damp, squeaking little Eevee with ears about the same size as its body.]

That is not a baby owl.

[The camera turns around, onto a confused and slightly-disturbed-looking Heather. Her hair is still plastered wetly down around her face.]

I... I think I was just pranked by Mother Nature.

Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City hotel lobby
I'm feeling: confused
Heather Mason
27 March 2011 @ 02:06 am
[It's been months since the last time Heather set foot in the Violet City Gym. And the last time she did? ... Well, the results were a little embarrassing to say the least.]

[This time around, there's no cocky speech from Heather beforehand, no smug, smirky assurances to whatever audience she might have on the network that she'll be winning. She doesn't even film the arched brow and 'Welcome back' that Falkner gives her upon sight, clearly remembering the epic, flaming disaster that was her first challenge.]

[Instead? When the camera comes on, there's only the briefest of shots of her face-- she flicks one hand in a hasty wave and flashes a grin-- before the camera is handed down to someone very short (and blue) and turned towards the arena. ]

[MULTIPLE ANGLES HOLY WOW. The camera-Totodile (who was instructed firmly not to eat the PokeGear) is airborne thanks to Honey the Butterfree, and the battle begins in 3... 2... 1...]

Tune in behind the cut for more footage! )


[ooc: Heather likely informed any friends who told her they'd watch her battle (whether in person or over the network) when she would be challenging Falkner, so feel free to assume they stopped by! Replies and interactions obviously will be made after the battle's over.]
I'm feeling: rejuvenated
Yo, this is where I'm at: Violet City Gym
Heather Mason
[It's cold today. You know that miserable part of winter that comes in the last stretch before spring? It's not that somehow-festive, powdery cold with deep blue nights and busy-but-cheerful days buzzing with anticipation that stretch through December... It's not even the fresh, new whiteness of January.]

[It's that dismal, perpetual grayness that fogs up February. You know the kind. The days are dark, the streets are full of slush, and the sidewalks are covered in black ice. It's just as cold as December, but it's somehow worse because at least in December you've got that tingly holiday feeling to keep you warm. February, on the other hand, has nothing to look forward to and it lasts forever.]

[Everybody hates February.]

[But when the feed clicks on, it's NOT outside-- it's already in the brightly-lit gym of Goldenrod City, and the camera is.... roughly at knee-level, and conveniently pointed straight at what appears to be a Miltank udder. Because that's how tall Godzilla is and lol what is that thing it's funny-lookin' and he's apparently not aware that UDDERS ARE NOT WHAT PEOPLE WANT TO LOOK AT.]

[In the background, there's a sound that should be VERY familiar now to anyone who's been watching the network recently--]

BWUUHHHHUHUHUHUHAAWHWHHHH! AHAWWWHHUH, y-ou-- you-- you meanie! Y-youhuhuh can't-- you just-- .... y-you're always so MEAN!  
[The camera's shifting and Whitney's white-shoed feet are pacing back and forth fitfully as she cries.]

[Heather's voice cuts in from somewhere above. It's even and level-headed, but there's an underlying quiver that anyone who's known Heather for any length of time will recognize as being a sign that she is physically restraining herself from strangling somebody.]

Look-- lady-- ... girl-- thing, during that battle, I deliberately refrained from being mean because every friggin' time I come in here, you're fucking CRYING EVERYWHERE.

I KNOW! I r-ruh-remember you, y-you always c-come in here to w-watch your MEAN FRIENDS and then y-you c-call me a BABY!

... Well, you are!


I CAN'T, you haven't given me the freakin' badge-- AND WILL YOU STOP CRYING?!


Oh, for fuck's sa--

[The feed jitters to a soundless halt around that point-- Godzilla hit a wrong button and muted the sound. However, as the minutes pass, it looks like Whitney's calming down-- consoled by her girlfriends and probably a (VERY) grudging effort on Heather's part. As this happens, the camera shifts around occasionally-- showing a battered-looking but serene Honey, an irate Arty licking at two big flat sections of her fur (during the battle, she was a Rollout Victim (tm)), and Cujo, as derpy as ever.]

[And then, the sound comes back on-- what's this? Heather sounds even pissier than she was when Whitney was crying!]

-ok, I don't care if you have a really good hairstylist, I am not here for a haircut. I don't care that I have split ends and I don't care that my roots are showing. I am here because you won't give me my freakin' badge.

WELL. I just thought that I'd offer some advice because you clearly were raised in an environment where nobody taught you how to take care of your own personal hygie--

[Heather's voice is tinged with absolute disbelief.] I am not-- I'm not even listening to this. This is bullshit.

You're friends with that girl with the gorgeous pigtails! How could you possibly be friends with her and still have such an atrocious haircu--

For friggin'-- MY HAIR IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. Give. Me. The badge. Or I will--

[She pauses, probably looking over her shoulder-- quite a few of her friends showed up to watch and, being much better people that she is, several of them are probably giving her VERY MEANINGFUL GLANCES RIGHT ABOUT NOW. With a deep sigh, she evidently turns back to Whitney.]

Okay. Look. I'm sorry that I'm a huge mean asshole with awful hair. Now, will you please give me the badge?

[Whitney brightens up visibly on the camera and completely ignores the badge request.]

So you admit it? YAY! Anyway, like I was saying about my stylist, he's great with hopeless cases, and seriously, I don't think you'll be able to find anyone else who can handle your hopeless case, I mean, seriously, it's that hopeless, no offense or anything, it's not like it's your fault, and--

I'd go to your stylist... [Heather's voice is dangerously low.] ... if I wanted to look like a tool.

[Whitney falls silent. Her expression is that of a well-meaning but tactless teenage girl who was only trying to help. The camera zooms in on her face slowly. Her eyes... are welling up with tears again.]

... oh motherf--

[TEXT to Phoenix and Snake, sent hastily as she's coming off the battlefield-- both are in the stands.]

Dave, Phoenix-- you guys okay with leaving tomorrow?

Im packed.

[OOC: Action for anyone who went to see Heather battle! She probably asked several of her closest friends if they'd like to come, considering she was about to leave Goldenrod for a spell.
For the watchers, the battle was intense and fairly close, but Heather stuck it out in the end. Honey's Stun Spore was integral.]
I'm feeling: annoyed
Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City Gym
Heather Mason
27 January 2011 @ 01:30 am
[The feed opens out on the expansive city skyline, though the slight reflection of the PokeGear shows that, thankfully, there's a panel of glass in between it and the unholy winter storm raging outside. It's nothing compared to that blizzard from last month in terms of whiteout-- the buildings outside, lit up brightly as usual, are still perfectly visible, but the low, gutteral moaning of the wind and the occasional pulsing flash far off in the roiling skies-- tumbling with clouds of that weird velvety orange-gray color only seen in the thickest of snowstorms-- indicate that it is not a pleasant night to be outside.]

Screw my shift, man. I'm not goin' in tonight.

The ol' bat can kiss my ass.

[There's a low rumble of thunder and a clump of buildings off on far side of the city go dark.]

Ugh. See?

Screw that. I'm staying in my room.

[... Well, she might go and bother what few of her friends remained in the hotel. ... Though it was a dwindling number, lately. It made the enormous city seem surprisingly lonely. She'd gotten used to having most of her buddies within walking distance and it was funny how quickly it had seemed normal. Ah, well. She'd already known she took things for granted... at least they were still in Johto.]

[Though it did make her wonder if she really wanted to stay in the city much longer. ... The old wander gene was kicking in, and then there was the arrival of a certain prominent figure (although they'd never formally met...) from Heather's past...]

[The feed lingers on the window for a moment or two before the camera-holder seems to snap out of her thoughtfulness and turns away, transforming the scene into a brief, ugly blur of floral hotel wallpaper.]

Anyway. Anyone else in the hotel hungry? Maybe we can pool a little money and order some epic room service, because like hell am I gonna try and go out to eat tonight.

.... Oh yeah, and-- heh.

[The camera turns once more from where Heather's flopped down on the bed and shows.... this.]

... I think being cooped up indoors makes them restless.


[PRIVATE Voice Message to Cybil Bennett]

It's, uh-- ... it's Cheryl.

I hope you got somewhere sheltered because this storm's a real doozy. Have you made it to Cherrygrove yet?

Anyway, uh...

... Listen. I'm probably gonna be heading out of town soon and backtracking to Violet City. Which is... probably on your destination list if you're goin' the usual way.

[There's a brief pause. Heather sounds almost humorously sheepish and unsure. To anyone already familiar with her usual cocky way of talking, it'd probably almost sound adorable how uncertain she was. But really could you blame her after what had happened when the last person she knew from back home showed up? This was a big deal and she didn't wanna fuck it all up.]

Do you... I dunno, wanna meet up for coffee or something while I'm there?
I'm feeling: hopeful
Yo, this is where I'm at: Her room in the Goldenrod Hotel
Heather Mason
Christmas Eve.

The night may not have had quite as special a significance in Johto as it did in other worlds, but between the (admittedly somewhat aggravating) mistletoe and the jolly little mobile trees lumbering around in the snow, the festive spirit caught. Even the locals seemed more eager to join in the festivities. It seemed Christmas spirit was just catching like that.

The arrival of the day of Christmas Eve brought activity left and right.

Impromptu snowball fights in the streets, last-minute gift-buying, Snover-chasing...

Goldenrod City was bustling with activity all day long and the previously-stated were just to name a few.

And Heather?

Well, actually, she'd been popping in and out of all of them.

Her friends in Goldenrod might have noticed her occasionally rearing her scruffy head in their general presence every so often throughout the day.

Popping into the Pokemon Center to give Rise an enthusiastic hug, a couple of decorative butterfly ornaments ("I know you like the girly stuff, sooo... they made me think of you!), and a written coupon promising a shopping trip in the department store (during which Heather was not allowed to complain TOO much)....

Knocking on Phoenix and Miles's door far too early in the morning to drag them outside with the intention of showing Miles how to build a snowman (under the assumption that if he didn't know much about building FORTS, he might need an emergency injection of childhood-- and Phoenix obviously did, too)...

Grabbing Snake during a smoking break to give him a heartfelt hug and a couple of really big cardboard boxes she found in the storage basement of the department store while restocking (there were a few sticks of gum thrown in, as well)...

And, naturally, doing everything in her power to start a crazy snowball fight with Kaito and his little band of troublemakers (did she get them matching team sweaters? Yeah, she totally did-- "YOU GUYS CAN BE THE SWEATER BANDITS.")

That was to name a few.

Anyone she knew in Goldenrod was liable to have received a visit from the teen-- and if they were a friend of hers, a gift as well.

But she never hung around for long. Flitting around from place to place, anyone expecting her to remain would have wound up a little bit disappointed. By nightfall, there didn't actually appear to be much of a sign of her at all, which was a little odd, considering that just fifteen minutes before, she'd been at the Snover ceremony, sneakily making off with some of the free apple cider (despite the fact that she hadn't caught a Snover, dohohohoho). But as soon as that had been accomplished, wham bam thank you ma'am, she was gone.

This was because Heather Mason was very good at becoming scarce when she didn't want to be found.

The sounds of crowds and festivities bled away into the night like muted trumpets as a single figure, in a short blue coat and a silly pom-pom hat tromped through the snow away from the center of the city, well-bandaged hands in her pockets. The cold was nipping at her face, but unlike the hasty, not-too-well-thought-out excursion she had taken two weeks before, she was dressed for the night, scarf around her neck and ears firmly covered.

It was surprising how silent the city got on these nippy winter nights, once you left the central streets.

It reminded her of home in that way.

When the brightly-colored lights strung all around the little plaza where the Snover ceremony was taking place faded around a corner, Heather picked up her pace and tossed the now-empty paper cider-cup-- still steaming-- into a nearby wastebin, re-stuffing her hands into her pockets hastily to escape the chill.

There were a few other people making their way down the cobblestone street, but not too many.

Feeling a slight bounce enter her step, Heather puffed out her cheeks as she walked and started to whistle a jaunty, old-timey tune-- which soon turned into a lowly-uttered song that nonetheless sounded loud against the night's quiet-- audible to anyone who might happened to have been near, although its singer was walking too swiftly to be deterred or caught up with.

"The Mason died on Monday...
We bricked him in the wall.
All his children grew and grew,
Theeeey never grew so tall befoooor-ooor-ooore..."

When she reached her destination-- she kicked snow off of her boots and shouldered open the glass door, heading inside and going up the stairwell.

There was nobody in the Department Store tonight except for the janitors cleaning up-- the whole place was empty, closing early. Which was why Heather had chosen to go. Puffing, she climbed the staircases-- all seven of them-- but kept the little tune going, even though she'd gotten a little out of breath.

"They may never grow so tall agaaaaa-aaa-aaaain..."

During the blizzard, the wind on every rooftop in the city had whistled and whipped, but several days later, the air was still and calm in the wake of the storm. Heather had to plant her back against the rooftop door to shove it open through the snow that had piled up there, but with a few strained noises, she was able to get through. Nudging a crate to prop the door open (last thing she wanted was to wind up locked out up here all night on Christmas Eve...), she crunched through the icy pile-up and towards the edge of the building, breath steaming.

The sight tugged a smile onto her face.

The crowd down in the little Snover ceremony had grown since she'd left it-- and if she listened closely, she could even hear the festive chatter far below.

Bunching her scarf up around her neck, she made her way along the edge of the roof.

"Mason was a mighty ma-an, a mighty man was he-eee,
All he said when I'm dead and go-oone,
Don't you weep for meee-eee-eeee...."

Take me to the reaper man, to give back what was owed... )

[ooc: MERRY CHRISTMAS, ROUTE. I love you guys so much. I'm going to be posting a list of everything that Heather got her friends for Christmas shortly-- once I'm done writing this post. I just wanted to get it put up before Christmas Day was over! Sorry for the tl;dr!

FEEL FREE to action or video-tag here if you wanted your character to run into or talk to Heather on Christmas Eve Day! As usual, reading the redonk long prose is NOT NECESSARY. XD]
Currently jammin' to: "Mason's Children"-- The Grateful Dead
Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City Department Store (rooftop)
I'm feeling: pensive
Heather Mason
23 December 2010 @ 04:31 pm
[Well, they say that the holiday spirit shows up in the most unusual of places...]

On the first day of Christmas, my supervisor gave to me... )

[And with that little mind-screw out of the way, the supervisor Psycho Bitchmonster of Death turns away and skulks malevolently off down the aisle.]

... well, that was surreal, but...

[LIKE HELL SHE'S GONNA STICK AROUND HERE! Goldenrod City, look out. Heather is gonna go out and appreciate some SNOW, dammit. Shoving the rest of the boxes hastily into what little space was left on the shelf, Heather climbs down from the ladder and just-- ... DASHES.]

[Tugging a Pokeball out of her pocket, she lets Cujo out (because she'd more or less been expressly forbidden from having him out with her while she worked, because apparently it was bad marketing for Growlithes to try and eat the toothpaste display, but at the same time, ever since the Glitch Incident, she wasn't too keen on leaving him in her room while she worked...).]

[As usual, the Growlithe instantly bounds alongside her, tongue flapping out of his mouth happily as he frolics. OH BOY, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO TODAY.]

C'mon, Cooj, let's head to that Underground place-- I can finish grabbing gifts for people and we can get some of those hot candy chestnut things that are probably bad for you but that I let you have anyway because I'm a terrible own-- .... HEY! W- ... where're you going?!

[In the middle of listening raptly to Heather's barely-started monologue, Cujo had just... suddenly turned tail in a flurry of creamy fur and gone TEARING off in the opposite direction, leaving Heather with no audience except for his rapidly-disappearing hind end.]


H-HEY! Get-- get BACK here, you mutt--!!


[Cursing, Heather THROWS herself after the dog, narrowly dodging several customers and more than a few coworkers carrying heavy displays. A tallish construction worker is forced to do a near-pirouette just to avoid clocking her on the head with one of the ladders he's carrying. Heather shouts apologetically over her shoulder as she passes.]


[Cujo, meanwhile, is on a MISSION. For what? Heather has no idea. But SOMETHING. Because she's fairly sure she has NEVER seen him run with this kind of determination before, EVER. She's only just barely staying on his trail-- he's running too fast for her to catch up with. Occasionally she gets glimpses of him up ahead, but JEEZ is it hard to struggle through this crow-- ... wait. Wait. Oh shit, he's-- ... is he going for that guy with the--....?]

Cooj, NO!

[Too late, the man carrying a large crate marked 'DELICATE CONTENTS' turns. Too late, the expression of abject horror appears on his face. Too late, he opens his mouth to cry out.]

[And then eighty pounds or so of excited dog careens into him, knocking him, several displays, and the contents of the crate all over the place.]

[Heather comes skidding to a halt in front of the wreckage, face frozen in a mildly horrified grimace.]



[And in the middle of the enormous pile that spilled out of the crate is Cujo, rolling around on his back and making loud snorfle noises, ears splayed out on either side of his head like dumb-looking little wings. His tail is casting sprigs of the spiky-leafed little plant everywhere with each enthusiastic wag.]

... Cujo.

[The Growlithe rolls over and looks up at Heather happily, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Like this picture except with mistletoe and a Growlithe.]

Cujo-- you are-- you friggin'--



[Heather urgently reaches down to grab the dog with some difficulty around his pudgy middle and haul him out of the pile.]

We gotta get outta h-- ACK! Dammit, STOP! Cujo, STOP, you idiot! Come ON!

[Attempting to shove him back down and stop him from CLIMBING her to try and eat her hair in his spastic joy, Heather turned and ran from the scene of the crime, with a mistletoe-covered Cujo in tow.]

[... And if she'd taken a moment to stop and assess the situation better, she might have noticed that in the struggle, a fairly sizeable sprig of mistletoe was stuck right on top of her head.]


[ooc: Heather will be running around town doing various Heather things like shopping for gifts, sticking it to the man, and frightening small children. Aaaand unless someone points it out to her... she's probably not gonna realize she's got the kissing equivalent of a 'KICK ME' sign. Feel free to encounter her anywhere in the city! Cujo will also be happy to dispense ~*~DOGGY KISSES~*~ to anyone too close to any of that mistletoe.]

I'm feeling: busy
Heather Mason
[Given the work week, Heather has not had a chance to really enjoy the snow that much. Whether the Pokemon world celebrates Christmas the same way most 'normal' ones do is up for debate, but one thing is clear: holiday shopping is universal. The Department Store has been going absolutely insane with gaudy decorations and increasingly-frenzied customers buying up everything in sight. Between the exhaustion and the ever-earlier setting of the sun, Heather's been spent by the time she gets off of work.]

[Friday night was spent mostly-asleep under a pile of blankets and obscenely fluffy winter-coated Pokemon (Arty and Cujo both seemed to have doubled in volume in the past few weeks), and when the gray winter morning light crept in through the snow-lined window, it fell largely upon the same scene. SOMEWHERE under there, there was a human being. ... Or maybe they had just eaten Heather and the tuft of scruffy blond hair and the single disembodied foot sticking out from between blanket and Cujo's tawny belly were in fact the only pieces left of her. Who could tell?]


[The alarm on the PokeGear (which was ... poking out of the blankets somewhere, giving a glorious view of the hopeless chaos that was Heather's bed. Of COURSE the alarm function had randomly turned on the video feed, too-- alarms always did dumb shit like that without being told to) had turned on, and-- oh, look at that. A scrawny, pale arm had emerged from somewhere amid the dogpile (literally) and was now groping around in search of the 'Gear. Looked like Heather was alive under there after all.]

Hmghghh... where're you, dumb ... dumb thing.


[Her hand encountered the roly-poly form of a sleeping Totodile and shoved him to the side unceremoniously before finally getting to the actual 'Gear.]

Ugh, there you are... [Sitting up and making Cujo slide off the bed with an elegant thump, Heather stared blearily at the 'Gear and shut off the alarm. Ugh what time was i-- ... OH HEY IT WAS SATURDAY. FUCK YEAH, SNOW TIME.]

[The 'Gear was dropped briefly onto the bed once more and the sleepy Pokemon came awake with various stretches and growls as their Trainer hopped around, one-handedly tugging on her (un-eaten) boots and a fresh-from-the-department-store new coat-- yeah, it was finally too cold for her to continue going sleeveless.]

--C'mon, Cooj!

[The Growlithe struggled out of the blankets he had wrapped himself in with an excited woof and Heather grabbed up the 'Gear again, turning the radio on as she headed for the door, one mitten in her mouth.]

Ghotta getd'guys...

[Stamping one foot a little harder than the other to get her heel more firmly down into position, Heather clomped over to the door to Liquid and Otacon's room and raised her fist to knock obnoxiously as usua--- .... oh.]

[Oh yeah.]

[Deflating, she lowered her fist sheepishly. There were already new people in that room and she'd just come preeeetty close to waking them up at like nine in the morning. Aawwwkward.]

--And the weather's just getting colder, citizens of Johto, so us here at the weather department would like to advise you all to stay bundled up indoors instead of trying to go out today! [--buzzed the weatherman's voice over the 'Gear's radio. Frowning down at the screen, Heather sank back to lean against the hallway's wall and heaved a big sigh.]

.... Hnm. Maybe we should just...

[She trailed off there to look down at Cujo, who was staring adoringly up to her and wagging his entire body more than he was actually wagging his tail. WALK?? WALK? WALK?! OHPLEASE? circle?]

.... Ugh, you know what?

Screw the cold. [... And screw the absence of Otacon and Liquid. Snake had said their being gone was no reason why they couldn't have a good time back here in Goldenrod, right?]

[Jutting her chin out stubbornly, Heather pulled on her hat.]

[ooc: ACTION FOR THOSE IN GOLDENROD. Feel free to encounter Heather out in the snow if your character is hardcore enough to be trying to be out there on a day like this. Or feel free to try and stop her. EITHER OR.]
I'm feeling: determined
Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City
Heather Mason
07 December 2010 @ 06:20 pm
[Like so many transmissions today, this one opens up with the camera aimed straight up at the velvety-gray sky, with dry little flakes of snow drifting down. It also cuts in about halfway through a sentence--]

--ime to get some winter gear... Hey, network. Please enjoy five minutes of my dog being a spaz.

[It swivels down to focus on the plaza-- looks like Heather's walking back to the hotel from work and is finally getting a chance to enjoy the flurries (though she's c-c-c-cold. The whole sleeveless routine won't work for too much longer...). The flagstones are dusted with snow, and-- ... as promised, Cujo is being a spaz.]

[The orange-colored pup is lying on his side in the snow and just sort of... wriggling in place, snorfling around in the MAGICAL WHITE STUFF THAT IS FALLING FROM THE SKY. After a few seconds or two he suddenly surges upright, butt in the air and ears standing straight up. He stares, glassy-eyed, at the camera for a few seconds, and then lets out an explosive snort and goes tearing off in a random direction.]

['Zilla the toddler Totodile appears on the screen then, slipping and sliding after him through the snow at a laughably slower pace-- changing direction a few times as Cujo goes rocketing past in the opposite direction. Eventually he gives up and comes waddling back to Heather with a frustrated gargle. She laughs.]

Maybe when you get longer legs, buddy-- hey, let's see how Arty likes the snow. Ya like the snow, Arty?

[The camera turns and shows... well, this.]


.... I think she likes it.
Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City
I'm feeling: chipper