<sub>[There was a bit of radio silence on Heather's part for awhile there... but here comes a video post! Because... yeah, uh. Probably a good idea to show everybody she's not DEAD.]

[The girl on the screen looks exhausted. The baggy shadows under her eyes never really seem to go away entirely, but they'd at least gone tame for awhile. Now they're back full force. It seems excessive, maybe, getting so broken-up for days over losing one person, even if that person was her best friend. ... But as she'd found out, he hadn't been the only one she'd lost that day. And she's not totally sure how she feels about it. ... About them both. Just that she's tired. BUT AT LEAST SHE'S NOT PUNCHING ANYTHING, RIGHT?]

[She seems to be leaning on (or... INTO. It's very... voluminous) a sort of... soft white MASS of some sort-- whose identity is revealed when a sharp hooked beak (that is... mostly obscured by fluffy white down) descends into the frame and starts to groom Heather's rat's-nest hair with a quiet twitter. Sunny makes the best pillow.]

[Heather doesn't waste any time before cutting right to the chase, speaking with a bored drawl (that's partially to justify how croaky her voice is-- SCREW EVERYTHING she's a bored teenager she doesn't need to sound nice!).]</sub>

Right, so.

Gonna beat Morty soon and then get outta this town. Nothin' left to do here, really.

So, uh.

We can either head over to Cianwood and see about getting Fly. ... Not that I have anything big enough to fly on, but. Y'know. For the heck of it.

OR we could head over to Mahogany. Which is... well, closer I guess.

So... I dunno. Thoughts? Anyone? Bueller?

_{[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.

  
_{[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.]
  
UGH!

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.

<sub>[When the feed blinks on, it's snowing.]

[More specifically, it's snowing outside-- the vantage point is high, aiming downwards from the fourth-story window of Heather's hotel room at the street corner below. The snowflakes are thick and fat and have been coming down for awhile.]

[Heather is nowhere to be seen-- looks like she's the one holding the camera. Her voice, however, is clearly recognizable, albeit it's hushed-- and there's a couple of other voices in the background, too..]</sub>

Hit record. Hit record, dammi--

Okay-- okay, shut up, Liquid, I'm filming.

HHEM.

Sup, Johto?

It's just a little past one-thirty in the morning. It's snowing, and we have made a discovery.

_{[Around this point, another voice cuts in-- one belonging to a familiar disapproving scientist.]}

Heather, this really isn't something you should be broadcasting, think of those peop--

THAT DISCOVERY is that a certain street-corner is a one-ingredient recipe for destruction. Please observe.

<sub>[The camera zooms in on a corner of the sidewalk down below-- it looks innocuous enough, but hey, look at that rich, snooty-looking lady walking down the sidewalk! She's got a fashionable-looking PokeGear pinched between her shoulder and ear, and her arms are full of shopping bags. A live Furret appears to be wrapped around her neck.]

[When Heather speaks, her voice is full of barely-restrained laughter.]</sub>

She has.

No.

Idea.

That her life is about to be changed forever.

<sub>[The camera follows the woman's progress as she heads down the sidewalk-- and then, as she steps off the curb to cross the street at the corner... her feet go out from under her, her bags fly in the air, and she lands on her back on the ground, sliding gracefully across the street. The Furret, now puffed-up and horrified, trails behind her.]

[Meanwhile, there's a small explosion of muffled laughter from off-screen that continues for the entire period of time that the woman tries-- and continually fails-- to collect her bags and get up.]</sub>

AHAHAHH! Right on her ARSE!

Liquid, don't encourage her--

Ohoho my god, she just keeps falling down!

Heather, that's-- pfffhhah-- AHEM. Heather, that's NOT funny. It's-- pffff

Look-- wait-- I think she's gonna make it-- she's gonna-- ... no she's not.

<sub>[EVENTUALLY, the woman finally struggles upright and carries on her way huffily-- but the video goes onwards.]

[For those staying on Heather's channel, they will be treated to footage of many individuals-- random teenagers, businessmen, even a traveling Nurse Joy-- all coming face to face with the dreaded Icy Corner and losing the battle in various hilarious, slapstick ways.]

[And then, eventually ... A certain individual of note comes walking down the street. Who could it be? Well, Heather doesn't recognize him (considering the circumstances under which they met), although he'd certainly recognize her if he saw her...]




[The camera zooms in on him, shakily.]</sub>

Oh my god. Oh my god. It's a policeman.

Is he prepared.

HEATHER. Do you have NO respec--

--To meet the Corner of Doom?

You are a sadistic child.

Let's find out.



( Will Jerry survive??? )


[ooc: Green is Otacon, Orange is Liquid, normal is Heather.]

_{[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.

<sub>[Most of the time, that whole cliche where people awake from a nightmare by BOLTING upright in their beds, eyes wide, sweat-soaked, and gasping like a fish? Totally false. Real life is rarely that dramatic, and accordingly, neither is Heather's normal reaction to bad dreams. She has them so often that they're rarely worth the energy to make such a scene.]

[But tonight?]

[Screw cliches.]</sub>


AAHHhhhuhgh! Hhhh!

<sub>[She sits upright in a tangle of blankets so fast that the PokeGear on her chest goes flying across the room, clattering to the floor a short distance away from her bed. The video feed button is hit in the process and anyone watching will be treated to a sideways worm's eye view of the bed. Heather's eyes are wide and glossy, her skin and clothing soaked through with sweat. Her chest is heaving like her body is convinced that she's DYING, and to be fair, it probably IS. Her hair is all over the place and goosebumps are standing out on her bare arms like pinheads-- those bandages? Yeah, they got all sweaty and just... unraveled and bunched down around her wrists.]

[The moonlight-- or-- er, the countless Goldenrod streetlights outside, anyway-- reflecting off of her skin just added to the impression that she'd been rolling around in wet grass or something. She was going to be SO cold once the adrenaline wore off and the chill of the cold sweat set in.]

[What... what was... oh, GOD, what the FUCK was...?]

[She looks around the dark hotel room wildly, wheezing, and smears her hair out of her face after a moment and just presses a hand to her temple, shoulders slumping.]</sub>

Holy hell...

<sub>[Pulling in a deep, congested-sounding breath, she looks up again, still pale as a sheet but at least calming down. Dreams. It had all been dreams. ... Well, DUH, it had been dreams-- she had been chased by the friggin' KOOL-AID MAN. But-- even the most vivid of dreams in her normal roster of Traumatizing Nighttime Visions (tm) (and her normal nightmares? Oh hell yes, you BET they were vivid) couldn't even come close to what she had just experienced. It had all felt so... so real.]

[She notices the PokeGear on the floor and just sort of... leans over and half-slides off the bed, reaching out for it with one arm and just hanging off of the edge of the bed at the waist like a gangly ragdoll.]</sub>


What time is it...


<sub>[... Midnight. Just midnight. Okay... Midnight. Ugh. Well, there was no way she was gonna get to sleep after THAT, so... she'll just turn the lights on, watch some TV, and-- .... wait.]

[... Why was the date three days later than she last remembered?]</sub>


.... The friggin' frick...

<sub>[She drops the 'Gear again, and there's some thumping and rustling noises as she unentangles herself from the blankets and drags herself out of bed. Her bare feet walk past the screen and then the door slams. The feed times out eventually.]





[ooc: If your character is in the Goldenrod Hotel and is friends with Heather/she is aware of their being there, expect a violent knock on the door, an encounter with a boxer-and-tank-top-clad Heather who looks like she saw a ghost, and some confusion when she just looks you up and down, decides she's satisfied with the fact that you exist, and wanders off down the hallway in a daze to terrorize someone else.]</sub>

<sub>[Things have been oddly silent on Heather's end of the line over the past day or so. She hasn't been responding much to other transmissions, or even to private messages. Right after all that chaos, too-- you'd think that given she WORKED at the Goldenrod Department Store, she'd be on the network constantly with all kinds of 'This is CRAZY, you guys'-style transmissions about Evil Bitch-Supervisor of Death bullying all the Officer Jennies for not stopping the robbery or how there was a soda machine with a fist-shaped hole clean through it or something. But no-- nothing.]

[And her friends at the hotel may have noticed that she didn't wind up coming back to her room that night.]

[When the feed does come on, it's a little more obvious as to why.]



[What? Heather in a POKEMON CENTER? Could she be...? ... Nah. She's obviously not in there for herself, although both of her arms are heavily bandaged and a few nasty-looking, angry red scratches are peeking over the edge of the gauze.]

[But she's sitting hunched on the floor by one of the recovery-ward beds for Pokemon, her vest lying in cushioning pile behind her and a battered-looking Cujo asleep by her side. She looks tired... even more tired than she's been otherwise, lately, which was saying something. And judging by the way she kept glancing up at the Pokeballs encased in the incubatory healing device sitting gently on the cot next to where she's sitting, her Pokemon are the real reason she's in here.]


[The camera shakes, then bobbles a little closer, and Heather finally notices. She turns her head to the camera, frowning at first, but then a wry, half-amused smile quirks her mouth slightly.]</sub>

Was wondering where you were, y'little weirdo.

_{[She leans over and reaches out, grabbing the camera and tugging it with some difficulty away from whatever's holding it]}

You must be worried if you're not chewing on it... the other guys are fine. Relax.

_{[The mystery-filmer is revealed as the fat little Totodile toddles over and tries to wedge itself into Heather's lap. She rolls her eyes and lets out a gusty sigh but lets her legs slide down so that there's more room. Now that the camera's on her, though, she frowns a little at the sight of the little red 'Record' light, but then shrugs. Oh well. While she's on...]}


So, uh, police.

The hell were you last night?

I could've used the help.

<sub>[Her tone makes it obvious that working with the cops isn't exactly the first thing on her agenda, but there you go.]

[She doesn't need to say that a lot of people got hurt-- the rest of the network probably already knows that, it's had to have been all over the news by now.]</sub>


Anyway...

_{[She goes quiet again, rubbing the back of her head. Scritch. She... doesn't feel as talkative as usual.]}


... Oh yeah. Last thing. Joker.

_{[Reaching out next to her, she picks a handful of something that chinks and glitters in the low light. A bunch of coins! She grins.]}


Think you dropped these, Bozo.

Great job.




( Aaaand for those who might have been around the aftermath of Joker's getaway last night... )


_{[ooc: Feel free to action if your character was injured during/after the robbery and they'd be in the Pokemon Center too!]}

<sub>[There's a brief snapshot view of Heather's hotel room as the camera swings around-- the bed doesn't look slept in (although it is rumpled), her possessions are haphazardly on the floor by the wall-- as though they'd been tossed there and then nudged distractedly out of the way instead of picked up, and for once Cujo, who is lying on his belly over by the bathroom door, doesn't look like his usual derpily happy self. His cream-dotted doggy brows are peaked and his snout is on the floor between his paws. He's looking over in the direction of the camera worriedly.]

[That's all the viewer gets, though, because the camera turns on Heather as soon as she's got a good grip on the 'Gear.]

[There's rings under her eyes and she's just in a tank-top-- fairly obvious she hasn't slept yet. Her stare has a kind of angry energy to it despite her obvious exhaustion, though, and her voice is hoarse and flat in tone, like she spent the whole night yelling. Which she probably had.]</sub>


If there's someone in Goldenrod who wants to do a practice battle, hit me up. I'll be on that town green by that Slowbroco business building.

Don't come if you're not packing some power. I'm not going to play nice and I'd rather blow off steam on something or someone who can take it.

_{[And then she throws her bag's strap across her shoulder and hits disconnect.]}




[Audio, to Liquid.]

Liquid.

If you're there and aren't busy with something, can-- ... can we just-- fight?

I... I need to blow off some steam.

If not, that's okay, I'll figure something out.

....

I guess.

Yeah.

_click

_{[You know how most workplaces have those ridiculous, seemingly-arbitrary rules concerning things like cell phones and mp3 players that make sense in theory but really don't in practice? Well... turns out Johto's no different.]}

[The feed flickers on and off a few times so anyone who's looking at Heather's channel is being treated to a sort of trippy view of the ceiling of one of the many floors in the Goldenrod Department Store, jiggling around as though the 'Gear is the subject of a tug-of-war.]

[And uh... judging by the voices that are conversing in heated tones somewhere off-screen, it is.]


I'm telling you for the last time, Temp! NOOOOO PokeGear use during your shift!


It's my break! I'm not even DOING anything right now!


DON'T you backsass me, young lady! I know your type! Traveling trainers who want to make a quick buck-- you're all the SAME!


Wh-- jeez, calm down! I'm not like-- trying to question your authority or something!! Take a chill pill!


YOU ARE OUT OF LINE!


The guys on the fifth floor said they could use their 'Gears during break!


WELL. This isn't the fifth floor, IS it?!

_{[There's a pause, and then a low, almost inaudible mutter on Heather's part of:]}

Oppressive tyrant....

_{[... But apparently it wasn't inaudible enough.]}

BACK IN MY DAY WE HAD TO TIE OUR MESSAGES TO PIDGEYS AND HOPE TO DEAR ARCEUS THAT THEY DIDN'T GET EATEN BY ARBOKS ON THE WAY THERE!!


E-eep!


I HAD TO WALK TWENTY MILES TO WORK EVERY DAY IN BLINDING SNOWSTO--

<sub>[The feed clicks off.]





[A very resentful-looking Heather slumped in her seat at the cash register, smoldering darkly and glaring at the file cabinet in the staff-room where her PokeGear had been dumped, locked, and left. The words 'AND YOU CAN HAVE IT AT THE END OF THE DAY IF YOU THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!' were still ringing in her ears.]</sub>

[Jutting her chin out resentfully, she planted it on one palm with her scrawny elbow on the counter, plucking uncomfortably at the fairly-silly-looking Department Store clerk's uniform she had to wear. Yes, there was even a cutesy little hat and a popped collar.]


God, it's like high school all over again....






_{[ooc: Video replies will be answered later in the day when Heather gets off of work and has her PokeGear returned to her!]}

<sub>[Heather's not quite to Goldenrod yet, but she and Kaito have been making fast progress. One thing she wnated to do before she got there, though, was talk to the person who was apparently the subject of all that commotion...]

[The transmission remains unlocked, solely because she'd been informed that his 'Gear was busted and she wants to make sure he-- or at least someone he's with, gets the message in the first place.]</sub>

Sora?

You don't have to answer this or anything, but I just thought I'd ... call.


... You okay?

_{[When the camera comes on, Heather's lying on her back on her sleeping bag with Cujo draped over her stomach and a sulky expression on her face. The bandage formerly tied over her eye (looking distinctly nasty now) is crumpled off to the side and in its place is a hot compress, which she's holding gently to the wounded area with one hand. She seems to be holding the PokeGear up above her with the other. Least flattering Myspace-shot ever.]}

So-- how long do I have to keep this thing on?

_{[She's talking to somebody off-camera and judging by the ever-so-patient tone of the reply she gets, which is sort of indistinct but along the lines of 'Until I say you can take it off', that somebody is Otacon.]}

But Haaaaaal.

_{[There is no reply.]}

..... Fine, fine...

I'll just stay here and stew in my misery.

_{[There's a laugh from off the screen and another indistinct reply that is apparently amused at Heather's overdramatic whining and not sympathetic like she'd been hoping. So Heather makes a pouty face and turns her head just slightly so that she can stick her tongue out in his general direction before looking back to the camera.]}


His Dictatorship over there is reveling in his regime of oppression and I'm bored.

Someone please distract me.

_{[SHE'D EVEN WELCOME KNOCK-KNOCK JOKES. THAT IS HOW LOW SHE HAS SUNK.]}

<sub>[Heather's been scarce. There are a few reasons for this. One, she's sort of embarrassed about having her butt totally kicked by Falkner, and two... she's also kind of totally broke, and doesn't dare try to stay in the Pokemon Center now that she can't afford the hotel. So it's camping ahoy on the outskirts of Violet for her! Needless to say, she's been a bit broody.]

[When the camera comes on, it's dark and she's got a fire going, the flickering shadows lending the solemn look on her face a little gravitas. She notices this right off the bat and wrinkles her nose to dispel the whole 'there is obviously something wrong and I have been sitting here being angsty and weird for a week' look.]</sub>

Sup, guys.

It's all muggy out here and I don't feel like sleeping. I can't be the only one, so...

_{[She doesn't feel like rambling this time. There's too much on her mind. So she just cuts to the chase.]}

What was everybody doing right before they wound up here in this friggin' place?

_{[She somewhat conspicuously doesn't offer up her own answer, but adds, with a grin that's not too genuine but looks like it is (which is what counts, after all)--]}

Bonus points if it was something super embarrassing like being in the shower or something.

<sub>[True to her word to several by this point, Heather's almost back to Violet. Her end of the line has been oddly silent for the past few days except for a few snarky remarks or other brief conversations, and that's largely due to her... well... unexpected traveling situation. But she's dealing! It's okay. She's got this. Really.]

[.... Or not? When the camera comes on, it's Cloverfield-level shaky, with the view swiveling around drastically and showing flashes of bare ground and campfire-- and something green off to the edge that was probably James and a sort of interested-looking Harry Mason standing up by the fire and peering over in the direction of whatever was shaking the camera around. Somewhere behind the log he'd been sitting on, if the viewer was paying very close attention in the BRIEF INSTANT that particular spot was visible, they could see a very vengeful set of Furret eyes glaring over the log at Harry. But that context is a tale for another time.]

[For now, the camera finally turns to focus on Heather's face, and she looks wide-eyed and excited. The past few days've been hard on her, but the situation at hand is temporarily drowning out any and all weird emotional problems she might or might not be having.]</sub>

RISE! RISE IF YOU'RE THERE, THE EGG'S HATCHING!

<sub>[No punctuation and all.]

[The camera turns down to the large cream-speckled egg that Heather's last transmission had asked about-- its surface is shinier than before and reflects the light of the campfire. But more importantly, it's starting to wiggle around and crack. Heather wasn't NEARLY this excited about her other eggs, but this one is a ~*~mystery~*~ and it's BIG so she's sort of kind of wiggin' out.]</sub>

_{[When the camera comes on, Heather is looking half-asleep, and very confused. It's daybreak and the sky is still pale overhead.]}

Uh.... Hey, Rise? If you get this, I got a question for ya...

<sub>[Because Rise is her buddy and she's the first person Heather remembers actually hatching something.]

[The camera turns to show a very strange object sitting at the foot of Heather's sleeping bag:]</sub>


This was... totally just... there when I woke up this morning. It definitely wasn't there last night. I haven't seen one like it before, either... I thought maybe Claudy laid it or something, but it's like... bigger than she is.

_{[Heather isn't the only one confused by the egg's presence, either-- the infamous Hoothoot, not hiding in Heather's pack like normal at the moment, is curiously investigating the egg and doing what appears to be a mildly-alarmed dance involving a lot of head-bobbing and moving from foot to foot (but minus the shitty music). The egg is, indeed, bigger than she is.]}

Any clue what it is?

... Or how it got here?

Hey guys. I am trapped, running a mild fever, and am in need of some form of escape from reality. Since there's apparently no such thing as video games here and my head hurts too much to try and read, you guys are my source of relief. Hi.

Ever since a certain.... um... bathing incident, I'm not allowed to let several of my Pokemon out of their Balls-- .... _{heh. 'Balls'.}-- ... yeah. So I don't even have them for company. ... Except for--
That. And it won't stop staring at me.


That is so not a Dratini, Kairi. I am disappoint.

... On the other hand!_{[She puts the 'Gear down on her lap so that everyone has a very nice close-up view of the pink, lint-covered surface of the blanket, and proceeds to rummage in what was presumably her bag, sitting on the seat next to her. There's rustling noises, a slightly indignant squawk, and a mumble of 'Sorry, Claudy...' from Heather, before she picks up the camera again and holds an Egg in front of it.]}


I found this, too. Anyone know what the hell it is? I'd rather avoid any surprises this time.


.... Oh. And uh... one last thing.

Given... the flooding, and the fact that a bunch of people were... warped or something to ... various places, I kinda wanna ask... uh.

Well. Not that I'm a big organizer or anything, but...


Even if it's just a little text message with the location, I don't really care. I'm just curious. _{[... And a little worried. As she's said to many, she really doesn't want to hear about a body-count once the flooding subsides...]}

.... I hope everybody's safe.






_{[ooc: Feel free to action if you're in the Violet Pokemon Center and your char wants to find Heather's cramped little corner!]}