<sub>[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.]</sub>

Nhngngnh...

<sub>[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.]</sub>

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--

<sub>[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.]</sub>

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.]}

_{[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.]

_{[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?]

... MREEP

_{[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.

MREEP MREEP MREEP

_{[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.]}

_{[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>[ooc: Forward-dated to the wee hours of the morning, around 3:00 or 4:00.]


[So she'd been having some problems with fire lately, and it had been rattling her nerves. That was normal, right? This was normal.]

[When the camera turned on, there was the usual firelight that indicated that Heather was, once again, sleeping out in some sheltered area of the woods on account of A) Being totally broke, and B) having a increasingly-strained relationship with those Center nurses. But this time, the fire's a fair distance away, leaving most of Heather's features in shadow.]

[Normally she was okay with fire in most situations. She could light matches without freaking out, and while campfires weren't exactly her favorite thing in the world, they were kind of necessary for, y'know, camping, and they didn't make her want to run screaming for the hills or anything. But tonight... tonight, for some reason, that fire sent vicious little shivers down her spine and she'd realized that she did not want to sit near it.]

[Even through the shadows, the glaze of sweat on her skin was visible, as was the fact that she was unusually pale. In her lap is Arty, who seems to be a little confused at being used as a squeeze-toy, but is holding abnormally still for once, whiskers twitching and black eyes glistening in the fire's light. She can tell there's something wrong.]</sub>


H-hey, um...

... That was a pretty crazy storm earlier, huh?

I can't be the only one still awake.


.... James? Uh-- ... man, what am I saying, you're probably not even awake. _{[Forced, awwwwkward laugh. Of course he wouldn't be awake, and anyway, he was going back to get his wife, he didn't have to hear about her fucked-up dreams. In fact, why would she even want to tell him? They were just dreams! So what if they were about...]}

.....

_{[Nightmares like that had to be normal after everything she'd been doing, right...?]}


.... SOME weather we've been having lately, huh, guys?

<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>