<sub>[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.]</sub>

Hey.

So.

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.


<sub>[... 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.]</sub>

... TCH, god dammit Cujo.

<sub>[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.]</sub>



[PRIVATE MESSAGE TO JEANE]

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.]}

_{[Before the video shows anything, there's some shuffling sounds, and then the tell-tale noise of a cardboard package being ripped open. Then, Heather's voice, muffled at first, speaks up.]}


... Again?

<sub>[She sounds surprised. ... Unpleasantly so.]

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

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

... God dammit...

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

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

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

Might as well see who I got...

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


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

<sub>[Wow. From surprised, to resigned, to.... indignant?]

[The dazzling light fades after a second or two, and shows....]</sub>

GENGKI--GEN GENGAR GAR GARRHH GURRH!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

( And then there was chaos. )


K;LJSDG;FHJDL;G


DFSGJLFGH;H

GSGGG


JHHJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ





_{[ooc: Responses will come either... mid-fight or after things have settled down. Ecruteak-goers, feel free to experience the wonder that is a teenage girl rolling around on the floor and trying to punch a ghost.]}

[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! )

_{[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!

Y-YOU'RE SO MEAN TO ME, J-JU-JUST G-GO AWUH-WAY!!!"

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

AAAWWHHHHUHUHUHUHUHHHHHHHHH....!!!

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.

<sub>[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--</sub>



[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.]

_{[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.Hey!

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?