<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>[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?

<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.]}

_{[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.

<sub>[It's probably been a week and a half or so since anybody's heard a whole lot from Heather's end of the line-- given the recent turn of events, coupled with catching up on things with her father, she just hasn't been talking much.]

[But if anyone missed the sound of yet another ranty teenager on the 'Gear network, well, today their wishes and hopes will be realized.]

[A crackle of interference precedes her voice, and in the background there's the steady rumble of a Steelix making headway on a dirt path.]</sub>


Heeeey Johto, what's crackin'?

Totally fell off the face of the planet for a bit there.

Anyway, for those who care, Goldenrod just came into sight over the hill, so Dad and I'll be strolling into town within a couple hours, probably.

I'll be lookin' for a few of you as soon as we get checked in and stuff-- you guys know who you are. _{[She's lookin' at you, Kaito. Dinner plans aside, she still needs to give him that hug.]}

And uh-- Snake, you still in the hotel? I'll heal Solid up at the Center first if you want me to, but otherwise, I'm sure he'll be glad to see his Trainer. Sorry the trip wound up takin' so long.

Anyway, uh-- ... see you guys in a few hours.

... Feel free to call me up and chat, though, the road's dusty and it's a real bore to look at for hours on end.




_{[ooc: For Action, feel free to encounter Heather in the hotel lobby or Pokemon Center healin' up her monsters after arriving.]}

[ooc: BEEN AWHILE SINCE THERE'S BEEN ONE OF THESE, HUH. Solid the _{Onix Steelix and Butch the Quagsire are used with permission from Snake and Phoenix's players, respectively. As usual, reading this TL;DR monstrosity is TOTALLY NOT NEEDED so feel free to skip over it completely to the Action/Voice section of this post!]}

( Read more... )

Because here she was, sitting on a giant snake made of metal, with a bird in the hood of her vest and an electric-mouse-containing egg nestled in her small carrying bag, which was swinging gently back and forth from where it hung on one of the many convenient spikes jutting from the back of her mount’s neck.

No matter how vehemently she’d sworn to never pass through that city where she’d so thoroughly managed to make a bad impression on every last law-abiding resident around, there was no way she was going to sit tight and wait for her father to struggle his way through a completely foreign land to her. Not after what happened last time. She wouldn’t sit idly by and wait for the universe to snatch her second chance away again. Hell no.

She had saved the friggin’ world.

She could handle walking through Violet City and getting side-eyed by all the Nurse Joys if it meant actually being able to hug her father again.

The last time Heather had made this trip, it had been at the tail-end of winter and she’d been accompanied by two other people and their teams of Pokemon, and therefore a great deal of distracting noise.

This time around, the only sounds were the morning birdsong, a patter of light rain, and that great echoing vastness that characterized every large forest-- … well, that and the deep, metallic groaning of Solid’s body winding his way between the trees, deepening the already well-trodden trail. It was a noise that made her think of the far-off thrum of machinery that she had sometimes been able to hear in that town, like some sort of industrial heartbeat. But in this case, it was … a little more comforting, knowing that the thing creating the sound was her.

The newly-evolved Steelix was not the most comfortable of rides, but from her perch behind the steel serpent’s head, Heather couldn’t find it in her to complain about it too much. Snake had given her one of the dubious looks she’d come to expect from him when she’d asked him if she could borrow the Pokemon, but after a brief, heartfelt explanation, he’d handed the Pokeball over to her with firm instructions to be careful on her own.

She fully intended to.

It would be beyond lame if she somehow died on her way just when her father had returned to Johto, this time knowing who she was.

Heather sank forward to let her chin rest on her arms, which were folded on the cold metal cranium in front of her, grimacing slightly as Solid skirted around a bramble patch with a chorus of think shrieking sounds from the thorns on his sides.

“’Least the last time I did this, I had Phoenix’s sissy-yelling to distract me,” she mumbled to herself, shifting slightly to alleviate the ache of sitting on bumpy metal for hours on end. She was pretty sure she’d sat at high school desks more comfortable than this. “… And I could move around without sliding straight off.”

The sun should have been peeking through the bud-covered branches by now, but the cold drizzle that would go on to permeate the rest of the day had slipped in during the night, painting the misty woods in a monotonous set of gray-greens. It wasn’t really rain so much as just an all-encompassing wetness. And while Solid’s body had been pretty easy to hang onto when he was an Onix, now that he was coated in slick metal armor, the condensation mare it more or less impossible to get up while in motion without risking your feet flying out from under you and then the rest of you shortly following suit and careening off into the undergrowth like the star of an America’s Funniest Home Video. So not worth it, even if it was uncomfortable.

“I should make some kinda ‘Please remain seated while the vehicle is in motion’ sign before we get to Dad…”

A squawk of apparent agreement sounded from behind her head, where Wren the Murkrow, now a fluffy black mass of squirmy, toddler-aged bird, was bundled up in the hood of her trainer’s vest. Letting her ride in there meant having to put up with a lot of hair-tugging and the occasional ear-nibble, but it was nice having a neck-warmer.

Heather quirked a brow over her shoulder.

“What’re you fussing about? You don’t even have to worry about a sore butt. You get to ride in style. I should be charging you or something.”

She expected the bird to settle down at the sound of her voice as usual, but the squalling continued, more insistently—and Wren started to scrabble out of the hood and onto Heather’s bare shoulder, whapping her in the side of the face with a flaily wing in the process.

“OW! Hey! Don’t do that, you can’t fly ye—OW!”

Gritting her teeth, Heather adjusted her balance before lifting both hands and trying to grapple the little bird into a secure hold so that she wouldn’t go fluttering off into the forest, never to be seen again. She got her fingers nipped viciously for the effort.

“Frickin’—hold still, y’little monster—hey. HEY.”

Finally pinning Wren’s wings to her sides, Heather lifted the bird up inn front of her face to glare squarely at her.

“What’s the big id— … no, I’d rather you not attach yourself to my nose, thanks. It’s tempting, but no.”

Denied the opportunity to vent-via-biting her displeasure at being detained from wherever it was she planned on going, the Murkrow just wiggled in Heather’s grasp and angled her head backwards to stare intensely in the direction she’d initially been going, yellow beak wide open and continuing to emit noises like a cat stuck in a trash can with a firecracker. Heather sighed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to put you back in the ball if you decide to be a brat— huh? … What’re you looking at? Whoa, whoa, slow down, Solid.”

Turning her attention away from the bird in her hands for a moment, Heather squinted down with furrowed brows at the bracken-covered terrain below. At first, nothing seemed to be amiss—maybe Wren just really wanted to go explore and was being overdramatic about it. But then something had caught her eye.

A large, pale blue blob—she’d almost thought it was a big rock at first, but no normal rock was that smooth or shiny. … And it looked familiar.

“WHOA! Whoa—Solid, stop! Stop! Down, let me off!”

With a deep, groaning in reply, the mighty snake ground slowly to a halt and lowered his head to the forest floor. Before his broad lower jaw even made contact with the earth, Heather was already stuffing Wren back into her hood and leaping down to the damp ground.

The ‘shiny rock’ raised its head just slightly from where it was huddled under a clump of ferns, opening its beady little eyes to stare at the three figures, one small, one medium, and one massive. It did not move from its meager shelter. Just stared, with the corners of its wide mouth stretched downwards and its big, webby paws tucked under itself like a large, amphibious cat.

Heather gave Solid’s side a distracted pat before taking a wary step forward, holding onto her hood to keep Wren contained. The creature curled up on the ground a few meters in front of her was familiar, but… she had never once seen him wearing anything but a big doofy smile. Was this… the same one?

“… Butch?” she asked cautiously.

The Quagsire’s eyes lit up and he let out a few grunting chuffs as he got to his oversized feet, rudderlike tail starting into a feeble wag. Making happy bugling sounds, the big blue amphibian waddled his way over to the teen, who for once didn’t make a face as he clamped his cold, clammy arms around her legs in a hug and stared up at her adoringly.

“Wh—Butch, what the heck’re you doing all the way out here?! I thought Phoenix was in Cherrygrove! I—oof!”

She was cut off as Butch butted his head against her middle affectionately (and over-enthusiastically), letting go of her hood so that she could detach the Quagsire from herself long enough to figure out what was going on. Hands on his slimy shoulders, she looked him square in the round, dotlike eyes.

“Butch. I’m serious, where is Phoenix?”

The smile (which was more reminiscent of the faces that Butch usually made) that had sprung across his face when Heather had recognized him drooped back into an upside-down ‘U’ and he let out a long, crooning whine that was as unsure as it was sad.

The barest beginnings of a flutter of panic started beating its wings deep in her gut.

“… Okay, just— … you just sit tight here. I’ll call him and let him know I found you, okay?”

Reaching into her pocket, she tugged out her PokeGear and started to move away, only for what passed for brows on the Quagsire’s mostly-spherical head starting to peak. He started to tug on her arm, making muted, unhappy sounds.

“Wh—Butch, no, just—stay here, all right? I promise, I’m calling him—okay. Y’know what, look—here.”

Grabbing Wren from her hood with both hands, she presented the young crow Pokemon to Butch.

“Remember Wren? You batted her egg around Phoenix’s room that time in the Center every time I walked out for like five minutes. You’re probably the reason she’s such a nut. She’ll keep you company—just lemme go for a bit, okay?”

Once the two Pokemon were sufficiently distracted with each others’ presence, Heather left them under the watchful eye of Solid and made her escape from the circle, walking to the edge of where the trees began to grow thicker and pulling Phoenix’s number up as she went.

Dialing...... |

Her fingers twisted the little belt-loop cord dangling from the ed of the device around and around as she waited, mumbling tensely under her breath.

“C’mon, c’mon…”

A brief dialing tone, and then…

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.


“… No. No. Must’ve—hit the wrong number or something.”

Trying to ignore the growing sick feeling that was gnawing at her insides, Heather scrolled through the contacts list again. There. PHOENIX WRIGHT, with ‘lawyer-man’ and ‘phoenix + ledges = <3’ listed in the slot underneath it for a description, a result of some late-night conversation from months past. She hit ‘Send’.

Dialing...... |

The strap was wound so tightly around her index finger that the tip was turning purple. She noticed, but didn’t really care.

“C’mon. Pick up. Pick up, lawyer-man. This isn’t funny. Pick the hell up.”

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.

“No! Fuck you. Put me through, you goddamn piece of junk!”

A horrid, hollow feeling was starting to creep in, starting at the knees and working its way up. It was that empty sensation you got when you went up or down in an elevator a little too quickly—like her organs had all been carved out, leaving a space with nothing in it. She felt lightheaded. Her knees threatened to buckle.

SEND.

He never DID answer that last message… NO.

She shook the thought from her mind— literally giving her head a toss, as if the physical motion would somehow help dislodge the creeping sense of dismay. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the ’Gear.

“Don’t do this to me, man. Don’t do this. I know you’re there. You’ve gotta be there. Stop kidding around and pick up—”

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.

“NO.”

SEND dsgklj

Heather had argued ferociously that Phoenix wouldn’t disappear. Would never disappear. That she wouldn’t let him get snatched away from this place like that so crudely—this place of second chances and friendships that never would have happened anywhere but here.

But as reality came crashing in, words from all the way back in February came drifting back up into Heather’s mind, like some water-rotten body floating to the top of a lake, straight from the mouth of one Dahlia Hawthorne, the woman who’d tried to murder him right here in Johto.

Can you really be so sure, Heather? Nothing is certain in this world. What if he just... disappears one night while he sleeps, right under your nose?

But… but he hadn’t.

He couldn’t have.

People disappeared all the time in Johto— important people, even people she liked— but never the ones that were hers. Never the people she’d talked to almost every day at times, the people who had sat up with her on bad nights and let her cry her stupid teenage tears on their shoulder even as she tracked dirt and snow all over their furniture. Never the people who’d come checking up on her anxiously for days after that, hovering like tie-wearing, spiky-haired mother hens until she’d just hauled off and started chucking pillows at them every time they poked their head in the door. Never the people who’d cared enough to talk the truth out of her even though she’d given them every reason never to try and help her ever again.

Never her best friends.

“C’mon, Phoenix, you gotta—just—you gotta be here, don’t do this… I haven’t paid you BACK for everything yet—and DAD’S here, I wanted—I wanted you to meet him after everything I told you, and after—after you—hell, YOU’RE the one who freakin’ got me THROUGH what happened before—you’re like the biggest, shiniest example of the fact that I can make friends with GOOD PEOPLE and I wanted him to meet you, and just—just PICK THE FUCK UP, all right?! Pick UP, Phoenix, I’m NOT kidding arou—”

ERROR: NUMBER NO LONGER IN USE. beeeeeeep.

“No! NO! You can’t!”

Fully aware that the hot, burning feeling in her eyes that was making the trees blur in front of her was unwanted tears, Heather snarled and tried to slam the SEND button again, only to hit the wrong key and turn on the radio instead. She found DJ Mary’s overly perky voice obnoxious even under normal circumstances, but having it blare into her ear right now was nothing short of some sickening insult in Heather’s eyes, and she reacted as she would to any other insult.

Snapping the ’Gear shut so hard it wouldn’t have surprised her if she cracked the screen, she flung it at the ground with every ounce of strength in her scrawny arms. It bounced a little on the spongy soil. That wasn’t satisfying enough, so before she even thought to stop herself (because, you know, the ’Gear was sort of important…), she drew her leg back and sent it spinning off across the little clearing with a vicious kick and a frustrated yell.

That didn’t help much, either.

Behind her, she could hear a concerned rumble from Solid. Not being one of her own Pokemon, he had probably never seen her lose her temper before. She didn’t look over her shoulder— just let out a huff that disguised a hitch of the chest, and wiped her eyes with one hand while clenching the other.

That old urge was rising again, the urge to just let her fists fly against something solid until she didn’t feel like she was going to explode anymore.

Sights set on a gnarled tree trunk, Heather gritted her teeth and stomped towards it, raising her fist— … only to stop when her blurred vision settled on the gnarled, shiny white scare tissue decorating her knuckles.

A souvenir from the last time something like this had happened.

They probably wouldn’t be permanent scars—they’d fade with time. But they weren’t gone yet, and Heather felt her throat tightening as she looked at them.

Phoenix had bandaged those self-inflicted wounds.

Bandaged them and told her, in that slightly-deadpan but still concerned way of his that the next time she got the urge to turn her hands into raw hamburger, she could come to him.

“… Well I can’t do that now… jerk…”

Her voice was smaller and more choked-up than she wanted it to be, and somehow the sound of it made, at long last, the hot tears came spilling out over her cheeks and plopping down into the dirt. Dropping her fist, she just stood there for a moment, shoulders quaking.

After a time, a plaintive “Quaaaag…” sounded behind her and one of Butch’s clammy flippers pawed at her elbow.

She swiped an arm across her eyes hastily and looked over her shoulder at the trio of concerned Pokemon. Even the normally rambunctious Wren had gone quiet and was staring up at her trainer with alarmed red eyes.

After a solemn pause, Heather heaved a deep sigh and sniffed, scrubbing at her face. “Sorry, guys… um…”

With a wet cough, Heather started to head for the trees to retrieve her PokeGear… then changed her mind and turned back towards the Steelix with a dismissive hand-wave. She’d get another one in Violet, they were cheap and easy to replace. And she didn’t… particularly want to talk to anyone right now.

“You can come with us, Butch... let’s go.”

Once the heavy water Pokemon had been helped (with some difficulty) onto Solid’s back and Wren was safely re-situated in Heather’s hood, the motley crew was off again. With Butch behind her and her arms folded once more on the back of Solid’s head, Heather buried her face in them and tuned out the rest of the world entirely.

She’d rather not be awake.



[Three days later….]




[They had arrived in Violet three days after that, on Saturday.]


  _{[Heather wasn't planning on staying in the city long enough to justify paying for a hotel room.]}

[So she and her team of six (plus one Quagsire) were crashed in the hotel lobby during this brief rest stop, taking advantage of the few daylight hours that a trainer could feasibly get away with doing this (before getting kicked out by a stern employee saying 'There's a free Center right down the street for moochers!' in admonishing tones). And with the Easter festivities going on outside, there weren't many people milling about in the lobby to stare oddly at the dirty, travel-sore girl being a bum with her Pokemon.]

[Heather was curled up tightly on the couch, staring straight ahead. The team were all asleep around her, but she just couldn't slip out of wakefulness. Now that the rigor of the road wasn't around to distract her, the full reality of what had happened had time to sink in.]

[She supposed, all things considered, that she should have expected something like this. Some price to be paid. Her father showing up had just seemed too good a gift to be true, especially after she had let the last present go without even trying. Of course she wouldn't get him back without having to let something go. It was even sort of fair.]

[... She just hadn't expected that thing would be the person who had gotten her through the first time Harry had vanished from Johto.]

[On the floor beside the sofa, Butch sighed deeply in his sleep.]

[He'd been taking it well, all things considered... not much could keep the happy-go-lucky creature down for long.]

[Heather, on the other hand... well, she'd cycled through most of the typical emotional responses to the situation... From shocked disbelief to sadness to guilt at ... Right now she was settled on just ... being mad. Mad at the world for giving her the one thing she'd longed for but then taking away something so important as payment. Mad at herself for not having paid closer attention. Mad at Dahlia for accurately predicting that Phoenix would vanish. ... And mad at Phoenix for leaving before she could properly introduce him to the man whose loss he'd comforted her through.]

[She knew it was stupid. She knew it was totally irrational, and that it wasn't his fault at al l.]

 [... But she was still mad.]

[A thought struck her and she shifted slightly to pull the brand new PokeGear she'd picked up earlier from her pocket. Might as well break it in... she'd have to make this announcement sooner or later, anyhow...] 
 

[AUDIO]

_{[It's the first anybody's probably heard from Heather in a few days. No video, because she doesn't feel like showing her sorry face on the network while it's still all blotchy and obviously-was-crying-like-three-seconds-ago.]}

[Even so, her voice is... very noticeably OFF. It's thick and croaky and flat-- none of the usual pep and pizazz that usually characterized her transmissions.]

Hey... so...

If anyone's seen Phoenix Wright... I've got Butch here.

... I'll just... y'know. Hang onto him until...

Yeah.

_{[... A pause, and then a click. She can't bring herself to make a graceful close to that message.]}

.....


_{[... But, as an afterthought...]}

You're dead meat.






|





_{[ooc: Anyone walking through the Violet City hotel lobby is free to spot Heather!]}

<sub>[... What? Heather? In the Pokemon Center? Again? SURELY YOU JEST. She didn't get her ass kicked by a crazy robber again or anything, did she?]

[For anyone around the Goldenrod Pokemon Center, it looks like Heather's waiting around in the lobby, off in one of the pink, cushiony seats in the corner, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. Her Totodile is wallowing around beside her on another seat, teething on one of those Pokemon fashion magazines they always seem to have in bulk. And by 'teething', I mostly just mean eating.]

[Heather doesn't look too interested in keeping him out of trouble, though.]

[This would probably have to do with the fact that both of her hands are heavily bandaged and laid in her lap with painstaking gingerness. She's had much worse, but... still hurt. And she was tired. And despite all outward appearances, the knowledge she'd gained on Sunday night wasn't hurting her any less.]

[But yes... ever the mother hen, Phoenix finally bullied her into going in to get those pulverized hands looked at. Not like she wasn't gonna anyway, but... well. She couldn't exactly go back to work without getting them checked out, could she? So she's waiting on an opening-- the Center's pretty busy what with the stocking of emergency snowstorm supplies and all-- not to mention countless natives rushing to get checkups for their Pokemon before the weather turned wicked.]</sub>



[Video]

<sub>[What do you do when you've been sort of scarce for the past few days, and you're stuck with nothing to do? ... GO ON THE NETWORK, of course!]

[The feed fizzles on, showing off a tired, tiiiired Heather. Her eyes look even puffier than normal-- they're red-rimmed. Almost looks like she's been crying, but THAT'S JUST SILLY. She's obviously just really, really tired, am I right, folks?]

[Still, she offers her usual crooked grin to the camera, and it looks no less genuine than normal.]</sub>

'Sup, Johto.

So uh... considering I work in the department store here, I've pretty much got access to all kinds of stuff that isn't sold much in other stores. So, in the spirit of the season... what do you guys want for Christmas? _{[She's addressing her friends, of course-- anyone else who tries to get anything out of her might well succeed... though it might not be what they want.]} No guarantees or anything, but I oughta get my shopping out of the way before the place fills up with crazy shoppers and blows sky-high.

Also, uh... weather's lookin' pretty bad, so... all you dudes who were planning on traveling, either hurry up or stay put.

I'm pretty sure none of us want this to wind up being Flood 2: The Freezing or some crap.

So none of you go and get dumb ideas about getting lost in the wilderness in this, okay? _{[SHE'S LOOKIN' AT YOU, TRAVELING PARTIES. Literally-- she lifts a bandaged hand and does that 'I see what you did there' motion, pointing to her eyes and then to the camera-- ... and then she remembers that whoops, her hands are bandaged like a wolverine attacked them and maybe it's not the best idea to flash them in front of the screen in front of a bunch of people who she just KNOWS will freak-- o-okay she'll just put it back down and carry on like there's nothing out of the ordinary. SO SHE DOES.]}

Also, anyone with Totodiles out there, I need tips.

'Zilla's started gnawing the bedstand in my room and I need him to stop-- but I don't think using a spraybottle on him is gonna work, 'cause... yeeeeaaah.

Advice?

<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>[Beep beep! What's that, Lassie? An incoming message?! Oh, looks like it's coming from one Hal 'Otacon' Emmerich's PokeGear! How lovely. What does the nerd have to say toda-- .... HEY, THAT'S NOT OTACON!]

[The screen blips into life on a face that's bruised, scraped, and... freckled?]

[Once its owner is sure the thing is on, she withdraws-- making herself a little easier to identify. Sheepish smile and all.]



[Behind her appears to be a standard little camp set up in the woods-- nothing... really fancy. But she's not the only one there-- somewhere behind her, there's.... some shirtless guy wandering around and his indistinct bitching about something or other can be heard.]

[The mat-furred, sleepy Growlithe in her lap just looks content to be there, although it's obvious he's had it as rough as his owner.]</sub>

So. Uh.


_{[Her voice is a painful-sounding croak-- hardly more than a shadow of what it is normally.]}

Apparently I'm a wanted criminal.

... Anyone know what I did? ... Was it awesome?

I love that mugshot. It's so majestic.

<sub>[Yeah, she's making light of it, but her heart's not... really into it. Though it's sort of hard to tell the difference between that and the plain old exhaustion that's obviously leaking into her every movement and word.]

[... Meanwhile, in the background, Liquid has noticed that the camera's on and has started flexing his manly man-muscles at it in true Photobomb fashion. Heather doesn't notice yet.]</sub>

Uh... anyway... I'm not... sure how long I was gone, and my 'Gear is uh... pretty thoroughly broken-- Hal's off in town getting stuff to repair it with, so... if anyone... like, tried to contact me, m'sorry, I probably didn't get it...


I uh... really hope everyone's all right.

_{[She probably doesn't need to clarify that she's talking about that fog. Now that she knows what had happened wasn't real, and that others had experienced their OWN nightmares... well, let's just say she's really hoping she didn't knock anyone's skull in. ... And the question "DID I knock anyone's skull in?" is implied at the end of her statement.]}

......

_{[And around that time, her Heather Senses pick up on Liquid's trolling behind her, so she reaches out to turn the camera off while looking over her shoulder.]}


Liquid, get the fuck out.

_{[End feed.]}




[Locked to Kaito and Rise]

[Another video feed, a little later than the first one, but not by too long. Otacon apparently was able to fix the 'Gear enough that Heather could receive those two messages that had been waiting a good week and a half to be received by this point.]

[And... judging by her hardly-disguised guilty expression, she's more than feeling the weight of guilt for worrying her friends. Especially since she saw Rise just the previous day and hadn't... even known how ... candid a message she'd left days before.]

[After a couple seconds, she breaks into a sheepish, crooked grin.]

Uh... hey, guys...


... I got your messages...



[Locked to Harry, James, and Mary]

<sub>[This one's in text, because she knows good and well that James at the very least will be freaking out over how she looked in that video feed, and she's not sure she can take his quiet concerned expressions.]

[But she can't avoid sending this-- if she saw Silent Hill in that fog, then she's... pretty sure that they'd have seen something similar. ... Well, she's not sure about Mary, actually, but given the connection... better safe than sorry.]</sub>

are you guys alright

(typing is hard, sorry for no caps)_

-heather

_{[It's cold out.]}

[It's actually really cold out.]

[Without the wind, the day would be pleasant-- even a little toasty, if the sun hit your back just right.]

[But with the harsh gusts whipping the olive-green (... but getting oranger by the day) foliage over and around Azalea into a frenzy, it's about as easy to keep that heat as it would be to try and cause a tornado by running around in circles really fast. Needless to say, it's one of those autumn days that takes 'crisp' and turns it into 'Maybe today would be a good day to stay inside on the couch and watch cartoons.']

[Only a fool or somebody very unfortunate would be outdoors today without a coat.]



[Depending on how you looked at it, Heather Mason falls into both those categories.]



[Gravelly dirt crunches under boots as-- ... um... something that only sort-of resembles Heather-- but with far more dirt and filth and blue-black patches and dead leaves and congealed blood-- comes shambling through the trees and onto the turf of Azalea Town like some sort of shaggy forest creature. Both eyes are blackened, one refusing to open at all. Knees torn up and scabbed like the aftermath of the most epic five-year-old bicycle crash in history. Same with her palms. Split, chapped lips, cuts and scrapes aplenty, and to top it all off, her hair hardly looks blond anymore, though whether it's all the leaves stuck in it or the fact that her black roots have started to take over like weeds is pretty hard to say.]

[She's got one arm wrapped around herself-- and the other hand has its fingers twined deeply in the matted, grungy mane of the rust-colored, exhausted-looking animal that pads along beside her, keeping his side firmly pressed against her leg. Said animal's ears lift, along with his snout, as he snuffles excitedly at the air.]

[Smoke! Lots of smoke!]

[Swiping a hand under her nose, Heather shuffles to a halt and squints ahead at the quaint little buildings, all nestled together. ... Okay... they weren't shimmering or vanishing after a few minutes.... that meant they... they had to be real.]

... 'ther m'seeing things or we made it.

_{[Aaaand then she winces. Even in her own skull, her voice sounded froglike and croopy. Not good. Not a good sign at all. What I wouldn't give right now for a hot drink--]}


[There's a great, whistling rush and a gust of wind goes whipping past them, forcing Heather to buckle her knees and hunch over, rubbing her bare shoulders and clenching her teeth to stop them from exploding into spasms of chattering. It was cold enough all on its own, but in this state, she felt like it was blowing clean through her as though her body was tissue paper.]

[And sleeves. A hot drink and sleeves. Those would be really, really nice. Pants, too.]


[A sharp whine and the touch of a wet pink tongue on her hand brings her back to the present and she looks down at the beseeching brown eyes staring up at her, managing something resembling a smile, despite herself.]

C'mon, Cooj...


<sub>[Stifling a nasty cough with one hand, she grabs his mane again with the other and the two set off to totter on into the town. Although she'd never been there before, it was a sight for sore eyes after everything she'd been through the past two weeks.]





[ooc: Heather does not know there's a warrant out for her arrest yet on account of her 'Gear being absolutely borked. 8I; So she'll be pretty... out of it and confused if someone brings this up to her.]</sub>

_{[It's brief. Heather turns the camera on directed at her face-- she's holding up her broken-ass umbrella to shield herself from the drizzle. James and Harry cannot be seen, but their voices are in the background.]}

Finally got back.

As usual, the heat breaks as soon as we get somewhere with air conditioning... and it starts to rain as soon as I walk into Violet. S'deja vu all over again.

We'd better not get another flood.

Anyway, m'back. Sorry for taking forever. _{[If she wasn't so tired and miserable, she'd have made some kind of quip about James being the one to slow them all down, but she doesn't have the oomph.]}

Gonna crash in the inn, I think.

Be nice to see y'all again.

_{[There's more than a few people she meant to address specifically, but upon thinking it over, she decides napping is a better choice for the moment. So the camera flicks off.]}


Private Text to Otacon:

I'm back. Does Liquid know Snake is here yet? Is everyone okay?




_{[ooc: Just figured I'd get one last post in before I left. See you guys, I'll be in contact!]}

[OOC: SUP GUYS this is backdated to the day after Heather and Liquid decided that booze was the answer to their problems. ... Which means... this is awhile ago. SORRY I AM A HORRIBLE CONTINUITY-KILLING PERSON. The end results of this post will more or less explain why Heather's been quiet for awhile in the meantime. Sorry sorry sorry! _{Also I apologize in advance for Heather's relatively uncreative vulgarity.}]

... Jesus whoremongling shitfuck. Ass.

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!]}

_{[The entry is dated as having been sent out the previous evening, roughly when she said she'd be reporting back to begin with.]}

[Despite Heather's best efforts, her Pokegear got pretty wet in the adventure, so video and voice is out.]


[There's nothing in the transmission but a picture:
Heather, along with three others-- Kay, Luke, and Rhode-- all of them looking wet (three guesses as to where THEY were for the past few hours!), exhausted, and bedraggled, but nonetheless relieved, are among the milling crowd in Violet City's brightly-lit Pokemon Center, which as expected has been packed to the brim with relief efforts and people seeking shelter. Heather has a towel around her shoulders and is presumably holding up the Pokegear to snap the photo. She's wearing a weary grin and doing the classic thumbs-up gesture with her free hand.]

[Along with the photo, there's a caption:]

_{[It's dark, and the sound of boots on gravel are all that can be heard at first. It's not an out-of-control run like the last transmission, though. After a couple of seconds, the screen turns to show Heather's face, fairly faint but slightly illuminated by the glow of the screen as she walks.]}

So uh... yeah. Looks like I finally got to Cherrygrove. Better stylishly late than pathetically never, right?

_{[Though she looks far from stylish-- still covered in mud and scrapes from the Great Sentret Chase, and though it's sort of hard to tell with the crappy light the screen provides, she looks pretty darn tired too-- rubbing those eyes with a grimy fist. Still wearing an exhausted grin though.]}

Seems like a pretty nice little place. More happenin' than that first one... though not by much ...

Anyway... those of you who've been here, are we allowed to crash at those Center places, or are there hotels...? Or what? ... Oh yeah, and if there's not a laundromat, I think I may in fact have myself a pretty epic freakout session because I'm a walking mud pie and it's damaging my calm.