Heather Mason
[ACTION]

[You know what makes a good alarm clock on Christmas morning? ... Besides small children? ... DOGS.]

[There was once a time when a Christmas with the Masons involved Heather using her father's bed as a trampoline. But by this point, she's more interested in sleeping in. You know, in general. But that's hard to do with Pokemon around.]


Ugh, Cooj-- have you been eating the old socks at the bottom of my bag again...?

[Shoving the Growlithe's blunt muzzle away from her face, she sits up in bed. Most of the other Pokemon (those that are out of their balls) are still asleep, but THAT DOESN'T STOP CUJO OF COURSE. He drops something slobbery in her lap and then shuffles backwards on her bed, rumpling up the blankets in the process. She flaps a hand at him, rubbing her eyes.]

C'mon, boy, you're acting like it's Christmas or someth-- ....

[OH.]

...

[She looks down at him briefly.]

... Okay, go wake up everybody else.

[Half the time what she tells him to do seems to go in one shaggy ear and out the other, but she doesn't need to tell him to do that twice. As he leaps off the bed in an explosion of happy panting, she finally turns her attention to the object he dropped in her lap.]

... My flashlight?


[VIDEO]

[Has anyone ever wanted to see live footage of somebody trying to strap one of those dog backpacks to a Growlithe that won't hold still?]

[Well, anyone checking out the network around lunchtime on Christmas Day will get to watch the Adventures of a Hapless Trainer and Her Hyperactive Dog for awhile as Heather tries unsuccessfully to get one of those things on him for about twenty minutes, outside in the snow.]

[After lots of yelling, falling down, and a brief period of getting dragged around (he's big enough to do that by this point...) she loses her grip and he eventually runs off with the damn thing half-fastened. Probably gonna lose it in a snowbank somewhere. Picking herself up, with a grumble, she takes back the PokeGear from whoever had been filming this charming home video (probably Harry or Henry) and shakes her head.]


Man, last time I get Cujo a Christmas present. Ungrateful mutt... [She looks out at the orange dot that is Cujo, clearly visible in the far-off snowy landscape, and waves dismissively.] He'll be back when I start giving treats to all the others.

ANYWAY, uh...

[Turning back to the screen, she swipes a hand under her nose briefly. It's been running in the cold.]

So, Merry Christmas, everyone!

Haven't opened all the gifts yet, but uh, thanks to everyone who sent stuff for us. ... Hope all of mine got through, I kinda mailed some of 'em last minute...

[OH WELL. Shrug. They'd get there sooner or later.]

I'd better go make sure Cooj doesn't lose that thing in a ditch or something, it cost good money. Later!

[BLIP.]


[OOC: For Ecruteak action, feel free to encounter Heather wandering around town later! She'll be trying to hunt down the friends of hers who are in town so that she can hand them their Christmas swag in person.]

[ALSO feel free to assume your character got their present from Heather, if you haven't already seen the list! I don't think I forgot anybody...]
 
 
I'm feeling: curious
Yo, this is where I'm at: Ecruteak City
 
 
Heather Mason
23 December 2011 @ 12:28 am
[The shaggy, retreating backside of a panting Growlithe trotting through the snow and a view of worn, upside-down brown boots tromping along hurriedly after him is the first thing to greet the screen. Accompanying the hurried crunch-squeak of footsteps through good fresh snow is Heather's aggravated voice.]

COOJ!

Cujo!

Come on, it's COLD! Don't pull this. I will skin y-- COOJ!

[The 'Gear probably bumped against her leg or something and came on by accident-- cue SHAKYCAM dog chase! Up ahead, Cujo stops briefly and whirls gleefully in the snow to face his trainer. Instantly the cause of his flight is seen-- he's got one of her gloves in his mouth and clearly decided that now would be a great time to play Keepaway. He pauses briefly with his rump in the air and tail wagging slowly-- only to turn tail and go gallumphing off through the snow again as soon as Heather (and the camera) get close enough to try and make a grab.]

[Heather curses viciously under her breath and the chase begins again, complete with hollered threats.]

[... But eventually the angry yells of 'I AM GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A TIGER-SKIN RUG AND THEN HENRY WILL SLEEP ON YOU' trail off and are replaced by a brief, uncertain silence, followed by an alarmed-sounding tone.]


Wh-- Cooj-- ... No.

[The motion had stopped briefly, but it quickly picks up again as Heather breaks into a sprint.]

Nononononononono COOJ! Don't!

[In the midst of all the shakiness, the 'Gear shifts just long enough to show what Heather is apparently so upset about-- and that is Cujo's creamy tail far ahead disappearing into a building-- a hulking, charred, broken building. The Burned Tower. Or what was left of it, anyway...]

[Out of breath, Heather pauses when she reaches the slight plateau the tower's foundations sit on, briefly wheeling to look back down the hill at the town below, then back at the dark entrance. Waffling between going in or just yelling for Cujo at the doorway.]


... God dammit... COOJ!

[She steps through the doorway and into the dark interior of the building. Now that the camera's not shaking all over the place, she's holding it up for the sake of illumination, turning slowly in place to take in the charred walls around her. There's shafts of light cutting through the broken areas up top, and snowflakes drift down in the breeze like ashes.]

... God this place is creepy... My kingdom for a flashlight... Cuuuujoooo... c'mon, boy, where are you?

[The wood creaks underfoot as she steps forward. The place has that eerie silence that only ruined places have, and is it sorta freaking Heather out? You bet. Her voice takes on a singsong tone to distract herself from the smell of the burnt wood.]

Cuuujoooooo... if you come out, I'll give you all my leftover beef jerrrkyyyy...

... Or one of Henry's shoooooes?

... C'mon, mutt, I can HEAR you panting somewhere over there, just c'mon ou--


[... And then there is an ominous groan immediately followed by an EXPLOSIVE crackling of wood and a startled holler. The visual is immediately replaced by darkness, and a THUD signals an abrupt meeting with the ground.]

[Accompanied by the pitter-patter of falling splinters and dusty, Heather sits up, coughing and holding up the 'Gear again.]


UGH... hell...

[A bright hole above her (which she apparently just CREATED) swivels into view as she aims the 'Gear upwards. A familiar orange canine head pops into view over the edge of the hole still with the stolen glove in his mouth.]


... I am SO not getting you anything for Christmas.


[There's a hollow thumping noise as his tail whacks against the floor above and Cujo promptly drops the glove down the hole. It hits the screen and bounces off, hitting the floor. Heather reaches out and picks it up, giving it a shake.]

Great. Thanks. That is super helpful. Really.

You're like Lassie.

What would I do without you-- oh crap.

[In the classic tradition of shaky-cam horror movies everywhere, there was a noise somewhere off-camera (a low, crackling rumble of sorts) and immediately the view whipped around-- showing a brief flash of something off in the darkness coming around a corner. Something lizardlike and fiery. Then the feed cuts.]




[ooc: Video responses will take place an hour or so after the feed, from a slightly singed-looking Heather.]
 
 
Yo, this is where I'm at: The Burned Tower, just outside Ecruteak.
I'm feeling: annoyed
 
 
Heather Mason
[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.]


Nhngngnh...

[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.]


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--

[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.]



[VIDEO]

[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.]

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.]
 
 
Yo, this is where I'm at: Olivine hotel room
 
 
Heather Mason
01 April 2011 @ 05:11 pm

  
[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--



[VIDEO]


[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.




 
 
I'm feeling: confused
Yo, this is where I'm at: Goldenrod City hotel lobby
 
 
Heather Mason
27 January 2011 @ 01:30 am
[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.

~*~

[PRIVATE Voice Message to Cybil Bennett]
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?
 
 
Yo, this is where I'm at: Her room in the Goldenrod Hotel
I'm feeling: hopeful
 
 
Heather Mason
23 December 2010 @ 04:31 pm
[Well, they say that the holiday spirit shows up in the most unusual of places...]

On the first day of Christmas, my supervisor gave to me... )

[And with that little mind-screw out of the way, the supervisor Psycho Bitchmonster of Death turns away and skulks malevolently off down the aisle.]

... well, that was surreal, but...


[LIKE HELL SHE'S GONNA STICK AROUND HERE! Goldenrod City, look out. Heather is gonna go out and appreciate some SNOW, dammit. Shoving the rest of the boxes hastily into what little space was left on the shelf, Heather climbs down from the ladder and just-- ... DASHES.]

[Tugging a Pokeball out of her pocket, she lets Cujo out (because she'd more or less been expressly forbidden from having him out with her while she worked, because apparently it was bad marketing for Growlithes to try and eat the toothpaste display, but at the same time, ever since the Glitch Incident, she wasn't too keen on leaving him in her room while she worked...).]

[As usual, the Growlithe instantly bounds alongside her, tongue flapping out of his mouth happily as he frolics. OH BOY, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO TODAY.]


C'mon, Cooj, let's head to that Underground place-- I can finish grabbing gifts for people and we can get some of those hot candy chestnut things that are probably bad for you but that I let you have anyway because I'm a terrible own-- .... HEY! W- ... where're you going?!

[In the middle of listening raptly to Heather's barely-started monologue, Cujo had just... suddenly turned tail in a flurry of creamy fur and gone TEARING off in the opposite direction, leaving Heather with no audience except for his rapidly-disappearing hind end.]

...


H-HEY! Get-- get BACK here, you mutt--!!

[SHIT SHIT SHIT IF HE DESTROYED SOMETHING SHE PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE GETTING THE DAY OFF ANYMORE BECAUSE SHE'D BE IN HUGE TROUBLE SHIT FUCK CRAP.]

[Cursing, Heather THROWS herself after the dog, narrowly dodging several customers and more than a few coworkers carrying heavy displays. A tallish construction worker is forced to do a near-pirouette just to avoid clocking her on the head with one of the ladders he's carrying. Heather shouts apologetically over her shoulder as she passes.]


SORRY, SHAWN.

[Cujo, meanwhile, is on a MISSION. For what? Heather has no idea. But SOMETHING. Because she's fairly sure she has NEVER seen him run with this kind of determination before, EVER. She's only just barely staying on his trail-- he's running too fast for her to catch up with. Occasionally she gets glimpses of him up ahead, but JEEZ is it hard to struggle through this crow-- ... wait. Wait. Oh shit, he's-- ... is he going for that guy with the--....?]

Cooj, NO!

[Too late, the man carrying a large crate marked 'DELICATE CONTENTS' turns. Too late, the expression of abject horror appears on his face. Too late, he opens his mouth to cry out.]

[And then eighty pounds or so of excited dog careens into him, knocking him, several displays, and the contents of the crate all over the place.]

[Heather comes skidding to a halt in front of the wreckage, face frozen in a mildly horrified grimace.]

[MISTLETOE.]

[MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE.]

[And in the middle of the enormous pile that spilled out of the crate is Cujo, rolling around on his back and making loud snorfle noises, ears splayed out on either side of his head like dumb-looking little wings. His tail is casting sprigs of the spiky-leafed little plant everywhere with each enthusiastic wag.]


... Cujo.

[The Growlithe rolls over and looks up at Heather happily, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Like this picture except with mistletoe and a Growlithe.]

Cujo-- you are-- you friggin'--



WHAT IS THAT RACKET OVER THERE!?



...S-shit!

[Heather urgently reaches down to grab the dog with some difficulty around his pudgy middle and haul him out of the pile.]

We gotta get outta h-- ACK! Dammit, STOP! Cujo, STOP, you idiot! Come ON!

[Attempting to shove him back down and stop him from CLIMBING her to try and eat her hair in his spastic joy, Heather turned and ran from the scene of the crime, with a mistletoe-covered Cujo in tow.]

[... And if she'd taken a moment to stop and assess the situation better, she might have noticed that in the struggle, a fairly sizeable sprig of mistletoe was stuck right on top of her head.]

[Oops.]






[ooc: Heather will be running around town doing various Heather things like shopping for gifts, sticking it to the man, and frightening small children. Aaaand unless someone points it out to her... she's probably not gonna realize she's got the kissing equivalent of a 'KICK ME' sign. Feel free to encounter her anywhere in the city! Cujo will also be happy to dispense ~*~DOGGY KISSES~*~ to anyone too close to any of that mistletoe.]

[HAVE FUN.]
 
 
I'm feeling: busy