<sub>[It's quiet.]

[In more ways than one.]

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

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

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

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



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

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

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



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

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


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

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

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

... Stage five. I think.

That's acceptance, right?

<sub>[A short while after the singing wild Pokemon and egg presents had died down, a rather unfortunate discovery was made upon dialing a number she'd been meaning to dial ever since Claudia Wolf and Kaito Kuroba had disappeared from Johto.]

[Already on the road, the weather's mild enough (even with the wind picking up) that Heather decided that was pretty much a good time to pocket her Valentine's Day present and just head off for a walk. Because lord knows, she needs one.]

[It's not the first time Johto has given everyone the gift of a precious little egg, but it is the first time that Heather's found herself resenting it.]

[The video feed pops on, focused in on a tiny, pale yellow little egg hardly bigger than a chicken's, nestled in the palm of Heather's hand as dry grass goes past underfoot.]</sub>



It would be so easy to just... crush it.

<sub>[It always seems like autumn in the woodland town of Ecruteak. But when it's actually autumn, the colors are mind-blowing.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_{[... Buh?]}

Uh... yeah. Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



_{[ooc: Responses will come shortly, gonna go get somethin to eat B). Action for anyone in Ecruteak!]}

[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! )