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
29 October 2013 @ 07:55 pm
The low moan of the wind was practically alive in these drafty stone corridors, and the sound of her boots on the floor seemed almost deafening.

And it was cold.

Those were a few of the many differences between this and the Otherworld, which had been cramped and often grotesquely warm, with her footfalls echoing only dully on the dusty (or sometimes meaty) floors.

It wasn't really a question of which she liked better, because frankly, she didn't like EITHER.

But the similarities were, weirdly, more comforting than the differences.

She stopped as a non-windy sound drifted towards her from down the hallway, her steadily-bouncing flashlight beam stilling.

That was something that was similar. The light by her collar (not in her pocket this time-- but close enough) and the knife in her hand and the familiar buzz of adrenaline to sharpen her senses and mind.

And the creatures, whose eyes were now visible, gleaming in the gloom ahead.

They were perhaps, the most familiar of all, even though it had been years since she'd seen a real one and not one of the magical creatures inhabiting her new home. Magical creatures that she, in fact, was LOOKING for now.

But these weren't Pokemon.

And they could be killed.

Her grip tightened on the knife and she started forward once again.

[OOC: This is a catch-all log for all the nighttime adventures Heather had in the Nightmare Castle, whether it's fighting monsters or finding her Pokemon. Open to all, feel free to start any scenario you want. Doesn't have to be connected to the prose above!]
Yo, this is where I'm at: Nightmare Castle
I'm feeling: awake
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.]

I'm feeling: excited
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
Heather Mason
20 June 2011 @ 03:24 pm
[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school taking a really hard test, and then Dracula shows up, and then everybody's naked ... anything is possible when it comes to what people see in their sleep.]

[But what appears in the darkness in this particular spot in the spaceless, shifting mass of dreaming souls... is a door.]

[It's old, and covered with boards and bolts, rusted near-through in some places. The lock is broken-- mangled and half-melted and wrenched out of the keyhole. The only thing on it that doesn't look ancient is a scrap of torn notebook-paper that's taped up on it at roughly eye-level. It reads only a single phrase:]

Fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh.

[More importantly, though... the door is ajar. Through the gap come the scents of rust and metal-- and something organic, fleshy-- and a low, deep hum of industrial machinery. It's not a door that anyone in their right mind would want to go through. ... But for anyone who may have stumbled this far into the dreams of their fellow lost souls, either in flight from some other nightmare or just pure, wandering curiosity... there's just no other place to go but through the door.]

... Well? Are you feeling lucky? )


[ooc: This is the IC post for what was announced over here! Even if you didn't comment there, feel free to participate! I'm still happy to whip up Silent Hill scenarios for folks!]
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Yo, this is where I'm at: Nowhere
I'm feeling: scared
Heather Mason
[It's been chaos. Once everybody realized that... no, what people were falling into were not the once-just-as-scary-but-now-almost-mundane comas that usually took hold of certain people for a week at a time, there had understandably been more than a little panic-- but then Professor Oak's announcement came in.]

[For Heather, it was a relief. So Pokemon were causing it. That didn't exactly make the situation itself any more ideal, but at least they knew. And when 'Monsters did it' was the explanation, well... Heather (understandably) considered this to be exactly the kind of problem she was good at handling.]

[About half an hour after Oak's announcement goes out, a mass text from Heather will pop up on everyone's 'Gears.]


So most of you have probably seen that announcement about the bug things stealing peoples' souls. If you haven't, I guess this is a heads up.

Since I DOUBT the police will be doing anything about this... it's probably best we all try and catch as many of these stupid things as possible. I'm sure everybody has friends who're vegetables right now because of them.

I'm in Olivine City-- if anyone in the area wants to help me and Dad stomp these things and get some peoples' souls back in the process, it'd be appreciated. Meet us in front of the Center.



[And it's quite a few hours later before anything from Heather shows up on the network again-- presumably after a long afternoon of cautiously catching as many Shedinja as she (and anyone else who decides to help out-- be they natives or fellow foreigners) can, without falling victim to the soul-sucking holes on their backs. When the feed DOES blip on, the scene is steeped in dim green light-- it's evening and the PokeGear's owner appears to be carefully moving low to the ground in a forested place. There's faint sounds of other people around-- she's not the only one in the woods trying to catch the bugs, but she does seem to be the only one in the area.]

[She speaks in a hushed tone after fumbling around with the camera a little bit.]

Hey, guys ... uh, great work so far.

I'm in the woods just north of Olivine and there's a few hiding around here-- if any of you guys need to contact me, just text me-- I don't want any sudden noises scaring the crap out of them and giving me a nice, soul-sucky view of their back ends as they flee in terror.

[And with that, she hits the mute button on her 'Gear to silence her speakers-- still transmitting sound from her end, though. She turns slightly to address the snowy-white creature just beside her-- it's Alessa, her Absol-- now much bigger than when she first hatched back in December. She doesn't look particularly happy (but then, does she ever?)-- her coat is bristling, her scarlet eyes are round and wide, and she's hunched defensively, almost like she's trying to disappear into the forest floor, despite her bright coat making it impossible.]

Sorry, girl... Cooj and Carousel've been at this all day, and you're the only one I have left who's good against ghosts... [Heather was no type expert, but she'd taken a quick glance at the Pokedex before going out on the bug hunt and figured-- well hey, it should work, right? The Growlithe and Ponyta duo had stomped these things fairly thoroughly, and fire was good against the bugs, right?]

[Alessa replied with a small, unsettled growl-- but Heather's attention was snagged by something popping up on her screen.]

You have received a text from DAD! )

[Rolling her eyes with an amused grin, she closes the text message and turns her attention back to their target-- a glint of gold and pearl glimmering faintly from the bushes off to the side. She lifts one arm up at eye level in case it's facing away from her and she needs to quickly cover her eyes-- then grins when she sees that it's facing the right away, drifting vacantly a few inches above the ground.]

Okay, 'Lessa... when I say 'Go', you hit it with Dark Pulse, all right?


... Alessa?

[Frowning, she turns to look over her shoulder-- because the only reply she received was that low, buzzing growl that the Absol only ever gave off when something very, very bad was about to happen.]

... Alessa, are you-- ... oh, fuck--

[She had been staring at a Shedinja off to the side-- and in her distraction, hadn't noticed the ones drifting vaguely down from above-- not at her, not at her Pokemon-- just wafting downwards and spinning gently in place, the same way an ornament on a string might-- except ornaments don't usually suck out your soul.]

[Heather's eyelids were already shutting, her arm rising to shield them .... but it's too late.]

[The screen careens sickeningly as the 'Gear falls from her hand to the forest floor with a soft thump-- followed by the heavy thud of a body collapsing directly behind it.]

[The rest of the feed, until it times out-- is dominated by the distressed squalls of the Absol.]

[ooc: Video (or action, if people are stumbling across vegetable!Heather) replies will largely be answered by Alessa-- also, since Heather spent most of the day actively working with other people to capture Shedinja, feel free to set action replies earlier in the afternoon if your character might have been one of the ones going bug-hunting with Heather!]
I'm feeling: listless
Yo, this is where I'm at: The woods north of Olivine City
Heather Mason
[OOC: HI GUYS. As per usual with my TL;DR event posts, reading this is more or less optional. All you need to know is that Heather's in the Goldenrod City Department Store, and that you are free to bother her in ANY WAY YOU SEE FIT, anywhere in the store.
Posts on my end might be a little slow, but I AM online and will be replying to every tag!
Out-of-game dudes, welcome to Route for the weekend! I hope you enjoy your stay, and hope that maybe we'll be snagging a few of you for good. ;)]

[Well, Saturday came, and despite the injuries and wreckage accumulated at the Department Store from the aftermath of that robbery, a big mall can't staff itself! As such, the employees have all been respectfully ordered to come back and help with cleaning things up, because god forbid they close the store for a few days!]

[And so, wearing her stupid little employee uniform, a tired Heather got up early with her newly-recovered Pokemon in-pocket (she didn't normally take them to work with her, but given the events there, she was feeling less confident about the prospect of being without them in case of an emergency. And besides, she sort of wanted to spoil them a little bit for all they'd been through), and made her way morosely to the big shiny building.]

[The whole way, Cujo pranced and gamboled around her, completely oblivious to his Trainer's sour mood.]

[She shoved the revolving door a little harder than necessary and went through it, taking care not to let the simple-minded Growlithe get stuck in the turnstyle.]

[And gueeeessss who was right there waiting in the lobby for her, surrounded by bustling janitors carrying around busted vending machines and sweeping up rubble?]



.... And back in your day, the elderly fell behind and got eaten by saber-toothed tigers...


Ugh... nothing...


Yes, ma'am...


[Making a sour face, Heather promptly flipped the old bat off as she went huffing away to scream at someone else who didn't deserve it.]

Don't listen to 'er, Cooj. You might be a filthy mutt, but she's a bitch and that's ten times worse. We gotta stop at the laundry room first. I'll let you chew on one of her skirts.

[Cujo panted up at her happily, having absolutely no idea that the supervisor had called him anything, and promptly walked into a potted plant because he wasn't watching where he was going.]



[The employee laundry room yawned ominously away from the doorway, its gray-green basement lights buzzing in that ugly way that old, out-of-date electronics that no higher-up has felt necessary to replace so often do. The gaps between the tiles here were always wet, and filled with that gritty mush that resulted when bits of powdered laundry detergent spilled onto a damp floor and was allowed to sit. The whole place smelled like stagnant water from the machine in the corner that was always broken and filled up with cloudy water that nobody bothered to drain for weeks.]

[Old uniforms were strewn across the floor like corpses of long-forgotten staff members who had been trapped down here and died horribly.]

... Same old, same old...

[Heather sighed and stepped in, her boots skidding slightly on the soapscum-covered floor.]

Don't eat anything I don't tell you is okay, Cooj.

[She leaned over the bin of clean uniforms, digging around in it with still-bandaged arms. She needed a new hat and didn't fancy getting screamed at for not having one if she was caught without it on the job.]

Jesus, there can't be like fifty thousand clean shirts and no hats...

[Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder, brows furrowed. Cujo was standing stiffly behind her, his creamy hackles raised and normally-happy brown eyes wide and staring. A low, unsettled growl was drifting out of his throat and his stare was settled firmly on the employee lockers across the room. Swallowing, Heather withdrew from the bin slowly.]

... What is it, boy?

[The growl increased in volume, and Heather frowned worriedly, following his gaze.]

[The source of his anxiety became clear instantly.]

[The door to Locker no. 9 was rattling gently, occasionally thumping. There was something inside it. Trying to get out.]

[The hairs on the back of Heather's neck stood up.]

[... It's... it's deja vu all over again...]

[The rattling was replaced by an insistent, metallic banging. Heather gulped, and reached out to pick up a nearby metal laundry basket.]

Stay here, Cooj...

[Slowly, warily, she approached the locker. As though sensing her nearing presence, the banging became louder and more violent. Adamant. Biting her lip, Heather reached out with a bandaged hand... and opened the locker.]


[The laundry basket went clanging to the floor as Heather fell backwards, knocked onto the damp, gritty floor as whatever was in the locker came lunging out at her like a desperate predator, barreling its warm weight into her chest and knocking her off-balance. Cujo erupted into a frenzy of barking and whimpering, knocking over the laundry bin as he turned in alarmed circles.]

[Heather thrashed on the floor, throwing the attacker off in the process and struggling to sit up defensively, teeth bared.]

I-- GET OFF! I'LL-- You-- .... uh. .... Huh?

[The attacker wagged its little cinnamon-bun of a tail, the speaker on its headphones giving out a cheery little crackle of static.]

I'm feeling: weird
Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City Department Store
Heather Mason
17 September 2010 @ 09:34 pm
[ooc: Backdated, the morning of the seventeenth.
Also, Heather... MAY NOT REPLY. XD; I understand everybody's doin' their own crazy thang for this plot, so I don't expect a whole lot of interaction tagging to happen (if it does, though, that's coo', that's coo'! But in the meantime, enjoy some tl;dr.]

So there were a lot of things you could hate about fog.

For one thing, it was wet. That alone was pretty much worth hatred. Or at least dislike. Even normal fog, relatively benign stuff that it was, had this unfortunate quality. It wasn't enough that it just hovered around being wet all by itself, it had to go and get you all cold and clammy, too. It sort of evoked the same primal DO NOT WANT response as a small child who'd just wet themselves trying to crawl into your lap without permission.

Or at least, that's what it felt like to Heather.

Her boots squeaked against the soaked pavement as she tromped down the main street of the white-shrouded Violet City, hands fitfully rubbing her bare shoulders. There were days it paid to remain compulsively sleeveless, and days it didn't. This? Was one of those days.

Behind her, with a series of soft clicks of blunt claws on asphalt, Cujo the Growlithe padded along, surprisingly solemn for... well, for being himself. His rusty coat was the only thing in the near vicinity that stood out against the ghostly mist.

That was the other thing she hated about fog.

It blinded you.

Humans were visual animals and if there was one thing that was enough to put even a big burly Neanderthal on edge, it was not being able to see what was in front of you. That was why kids were instinctively scared of the dark, and why the species as a whole hid away under blankets and pillows at night where they'd be safe, only to rise again when the sun did, too. Basic instinct. People were just programmed that way.

Of course, that was just what she was telling herself. Because she'd rather not think that the reason she kept hearing little rustly noises that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck and staring over her shoulder paranoidly as she walked, bag bouncing against her hip, was anything other than 'It happens to everyone'. She knew better than to think that, but hey, the effort counted for something, right?

When the shiny windows and cheerful red roof of the Pokemon Center loomed up out of the fog, Heather stopped briefly, letting out a gusty sigh. This wasn't exactly where she wanted to be, but camping in the damp meant that her dinky little sleeping bag was no longer adequate for keeping out the cold, so it was time to mooch some free supplies. From the nurses who hated her guts and probably thought she was a menace to society.

If there's a benevolent higher power, and it's actually listening, please grant me the strength to get out of this with blankets, and without ALL-CAPS confrontations with the staff.

And with that silent prayer stated, Heather stepped towards the door--


"Wh-- ... no, Cooj. Stay."

The Growlithe's amber eyes proceeded to grow disproportionately enormous and woobly.

Heather remained unmoved.

"If those nurses see you in there again, they're probably gonna euthanize you. Sta-- no. The paw thing doesn't work on me, remember? STAY."

Cujo dropped his paw to the ground once more, having been pawing at the air in the universal canine 'handshake' gesture, and whimpered, but stayed put.

Rolling her eyes, Heather adjusted the bag's strap on her shoulder.

"Dumb mutt..."

The doors slid open with a sleek, mechanical whirr, and Heather stepped inside.

And then shit went down. ) _

[ooc: What's happening in real life is pretty much Heather going batshit insane in the middle of the Pokemon Center lobby and attacking the approaching concerned nurses with an IV pole. While obviously no one is SERIOUSLY injured, she does a fair amount of damage, and then will flee the scene. Tag if you want, but don't feel obliged! This is a big plot!]
I'm feeling: shocked
Yo, this is where I'm at: Violet City Pokemon Center
Currently jammin' to: KSSSHSHHHHhhhsssfrrrzzzhhzhzlshhhhhhssshhosssnHHHSSSSHHHHKHKHHZZFfffflrrgltchque