<sub>[So that night, y'know, Heather and presumably a lot of other people getting ready to head off from Olivine in the morning after all that stormy chaos had all either conked out in the Center or checked into the (distinctly crappier than Goldenrod's, for the record-- PEH) local inn for the night.]

[And in the morning, all would be normal and Heather'd head off back to Goldenrod with her dad and everything would be totally chill.]



[... Or not.]</sub>


( CLICK TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS )

[ooc: SO FOR THE DURATION OF THE EVENT, HEATHER WILL BE WANDERING AROUND WITH A CERTAIN UNWANTED GUARDIAN ANGEL IN TOW. That said, if you just wanna subject Heather to whatever crack you want, by all means TAG AWAY as though Valtiel's just a fly on the wall. He's pretty good at that. SO HIT ME WITH YOUR WTF-IEST, GUYS!]

_{[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.

  
_{[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--





_{[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.

HEATHER!

HEATHER HEATHER HEATHER! LOOKIT!


<sub>[Heather groaned. It was way too early for this.]

[Anyone actually out and about on the streets of Violet City on this fine, promising-to-be-warm day wouldn't be able to enjoy the peace and quiet for long. Between the rapid clip-clopping trot of the Ponyta hightailing it up and down the street and the childish squeals of the UNHOLY DEMON that was chasing after her gleefully through the morning fog that was rising off all the now-rapidly-melting snow.]

[Clearing her still sleep-gunked throat with one fist to her mouth, Heather called out after the fleeing figures.]</sub>


Don't run into any lamp posts and die or your brother'll glare witheringly at me and say something droll!


<sub>[Whether or not the kid and the pony heard her was unclear. Either way, Beckett Fowl and Carousel the Ponyta were having too much fun to listen to something as boring as orders, pfft. Sighing, Heather rubbed at now significantly-darker rings under her eyes. When he had asked her to watch after his brother until he himself could come collect the kid, Artemis had failed to mention that said kid was the living incarnation of hyperactivity itself. The only reason Heather was even OUT here at ass o'clock in the morning (at least the SUN was up-- barely) instead of curled up in bed was because there was no shutting this thing up.]

[So in the spirit of wanting to get more sleep being a responsible babysitter, she'd dragged herself out of bed to let kid and Pokemon let off their energy in constructive ways like running in repetitive circles rather than making someone from the room below hers come to her door and complain about the fact that it sounded like she was letting an elephant jump up and down in there.]</sub>

Your brother'd better get here soon, y'little cretin....

<sub>[Pausing to sigh and lean on a lamp post, Heather looked around blearily at the sleepy city. There were some good and bad things about it this morning. On the bright side, the warmth meant she'd finally been able to ditch the sleeves AT LAST. ... But on the OTHER hand...]


[FOG.]

[Fuckin' fog.]

[It wasn't even the thick, soupy stuff that had been laying over the city last fall like an obese, hallucinogenic slug, it was floaty, whimsical little wisps that were being painted pale pink by the sunrise-- but even that was enough to bring up the goosebumps on her bare arms. ... Or no, that was just because it was damp. Right? Yeah, that's all.]

[But god, it made her want to just go back inside and wait until it all burned off... Even though she couldn't, thanks to the fact that she had to wait for the child prodigy to come running back in this direction.]</sub>

Ugh. You owe me so hard, Arty.

<sub>[Because addressing thin air would really tell him just how sulky you were over this, Heather. That is the right thing to do.]

[Shivering despite the balminess, Heather folded her arms and tried to keep her mind off the odd flashes of memory these foggy streets were bringing back, of that autumn incident that had soured her so hard on this city. RRGGH it was really getting into her HEAD, too, she could almost hear the echoes of a baby cryi-- .... Wait a second.]

[Heather turned her head at the sound. ... No... no, she wasn't imagining that. Something WAS crying. ... Not human-- though it was close enough to give her a start. She could still hear Beckett joyfully whooping off further down the street, so it wasn't him... Swallowing hard, she stepped away from the lamp post and in the direction of the noise, a thin wailing that was drifting from somewhere behind a clump of bushes, almost as lightly as the drifting fog.]</sub>

I-- uh.... helloo--...?

<sub>[And there it was.]




[The little Cubone peered up at her warily through the sockets in its skull helmet, eyes sticky and bloodshot. Its crying had stopped as soon as Heather showed her face-- though probably more out of alarm than anything else]

[Heather just... stared right back until she found her voice.]</sub>


... Whoa, you don't look wild... what're you doin' out here all on your-- ... wait.

_{[... Now she recognized it. Those cries... from a network post months before. An important]}


... You... belong to that girl.

_{[Angela. ... But if she wasn't here, that probably meant...]}





... Damn it...




_{[No screaming wake-up calls from Heather at this hour, thank god-- but anyone who's up might be seeing this message pop up on their screens. Heather looks... grim. ... And a little sad.]}


Is there anyone else here who's talked to somebody named Angela?


.... Recently?




_{[ooc: Beckett used with his mun's permission!]}

<sub>[Heather is sitting in the lobby of the Violet inn. This would not be too remarkable, except for the fact that there's a couple of gift-y looking boxes in front of her. She's staring at them with an expression that's a ... very weird combination of confused and... slightly unsettled.]

[Pretty much only the fact that one of them had Kaito's name on it was stopping her from throwing them away entirely. The one from flaming blanket man was even more baffling. Obviously neither of them were what made this weird in the slightest-- Kaito was one of her best friends for crying out loud, and the Proff' was probably the least threatening person she'd ever MET-- but mystery gifts held some unfortunate associations for Heather. ... But hey, even if they didn't, the boxes' existence left her with a resounding case of ".... HUH?"]

[Why were they here?]

[Was it some kind of silly prank?]

[Did they think it was her birthday?]

[WHAT WAS THIS.]

[She had to know, so ... when in doubt, turn to the network.]</sub>


So, uh....

_{[The camera's not showing the boxes (since she has no idea anyone else got any so she's not sure if she should show them or not.]}

Any of you guys get mail that-- ... uh...

_{[... And then her brows furrow.]}

... Wren-- Wren, cut that out.

<sub>[She gets up abruptly and the network'll get a glimpse of an obscenely fuzzy young Murkrow with an epic case of bed-head plumage sitting on top of one of the boxes and viciously fighting with a bit of ribbon before the feed cuts out.]


[Anyone walking around the inn will find Heather looking at the boxes with a mixture of trepidation and confusion.]</sub>





[TEXT TO KAITO]

Hey Kaito, uh

What's up with the boxes?

<sub>[Most of the time, that whole cliche where people awake from a nightmare by BOLTING upright in their beds, eyes wide, sweat-soaked, and gasping like a fish? Totally false. Real life is rarely that dramatic, and accordingly, neither is Heather's normal reaction to bad dreams. She has them so often that they're rarely worth the energy to make such a scene.]

[But tonight?]

[Screw cliches.]</sub>


AAHHhhhuhgh! Hhhh!

<sub>[She sits upright in a tangle of blankets so fast that the PokeGear on her chest goes flying across the room, clattering to the floor a short distance away from her bed. The video feed button is hit in the process and anyone watching will be treated to a sideways worm's eye view of the bed. Heather's eyes are wide and glossy, her skin and clothing soaked through with sweat. Her chest is heaving like her body is convinced that she's DYING, and to be fair, it probably IS. Her hair is all over the place and goosebumps are standing out on her bare arms like pinheads-- those bandages? Yeah, they got all sweaty and just... unraveled and bunched down around her wrists.]

[The moonlight-- or-- er, the countless Goldenrod streetlights outside, anyway-- reflecting off of her skin just added to the impression that she'd been rolling around in wet grass or something. She was going to be SO cold once the adrenaline wore off and the chill of the cold sweat set in.]

[What... what was... oh, GOD, what the FUCK was...?]

[She looks around the dark hotel room wildly, wheezing, and smears her hair out of her face after a moment and just presses a hand to her temple, shoulders slumping.]</sub>

Holy hell...

<sub>[Pulling in a deep, congested-sounding breath, she looks up again, still pale as a sheet but at least calming down. Dreams. It had all been dreams. ... Well, DUH, it had been dreams-- she had been chased by the friggin' KOOL-AID MAN. But-- even the most vivid of dreams in her normal roster of Traumatizing Nighttime Visions (tm) (and her normal nightmares? Oh hell yes, you BET they were vivid) couldn't even come close to what she had just experienced. It had all felt so... so real.]

[She notices the PokeGear on the floor and just sort of... leans over and half-slides off the bed, reaching out for it with one arm and just hanging off of the edge of the bed at the waist like a gangly ragdoll.]</sub>


What time is it...


<sub>[... Midnight. Just midnight. Okay... Midnight. Ugh. Well, there was no way she was gonna get to sleep after THAT, so... she'll just turn the lights on, watch some TV, and-- .... wait.]

[... Why was the date three days later than she last remembered?]</sub>


.... The friggin' frick...

<sub>[She drops the 'Gear again, and there's some thumping and rustling noises as she unentangles herself from the blankets and drags herself out of bed. Her bare feet walk past the screen and then the door slams. The feed times out eventually.]





[ooc: If your character is in the Goldenrod Hotel and is friends with Heather/she is aware of their being there, expect a violent knock on the door, an encounter with a boxer-and-tank-top-clad Heather who looks like she saw a ghost, and some confusion when she just looks you up and down, decides she's satisfied with the fact that you exist, and wanders off down the hallway in a daze to terrorize someone else.]</sub>

<sub>[OOC: HI GUYS. As per usual with my TL;DR event posts, reading this is more or less optional. All you need to know is that Heather's in the Goldenrod City Department Store, and that you are free to bother her in ANY WAY YOU SEE FIT, anywhere in the store.
Posts on my end might be a little slow, but I AM online and will be replying to every tag!
Out-of-game dudes, welcome to Route for the weekend! I hope you enjoy your stay, and hope that maybe we'll be snagging a few of you for good. ;)]





[Well, Saturday came, and despite the injuries and wreckage accumulated at the Department Store from the aftermath of that robbery, a big mall can't staff itself! As such, the employees have all been respectfully ordered to come back and help with cleaning things up, because god forbid they close the store for a few days!]

[And so, wearing her stupid little employee uniform, a tired Heather got up early with her newly-recovered Pokemon in-pocket (she didn't normally take them to work with her, but given the events there, she was feeling less confident about the prospect of being without them in case of an emergency. And besides, she sort of wanted to spoil them a little bit for all they'd been through), and made her way morosely to the big shiny building.]

[The whole way, Cujo pranced and gamboled around her, completely oblivious to his Trainer's sour mood.]

[She shoved the revolving door a little harder than necessary and went through it, taking care not to let the simple-minded Growlithe get stuck in the turnstyle.]

[And gueeeessss who was right there waiting in the lobby for her, surrounded by bustling janitors carrying around busted vending machines and sweeping up rubble?]</sub>


ABOUT TIME YOU SHOWED UP!

BACK IN MY DAY, SNOTTY KIDS WHO TOOK TOO MUCH TIME OFF OF WORK WERE FLOGGED AND PUBLICLY HUMILIATED!



.... And back in your day, the elderly fell behind and got eaten by saber-toothed tigers...


WHAT WAS THAT?!


Ugh... nothing...


I'VE HAD ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOUR LIP. MY DELICATE HEART CANNOT ABIDE SUCH DISRESPECT. GO HELP THE JANITORS ON THE SECOND FLOOR BEFORE YOUR INSOLENCE BEGINS TO ENDANGER MY HEALTH.



Yes, ma'am...


AND GET THAT FILTHY MUTT IN A POKEBALL IMMEDIATELY!!


_{[Making a sour face, Heather promptly flipped the old bat off as she went huffing away to scream at someone else who didn't deserve it.]}


Don't listen to 'er, Cooj. You might be a filthy mutt, but she's a bitch and that's ten times worse. We gotta stop at the laundry room first. I'll let you chew on one of her skirts.

<sub>[Cujo panted up at her happily, having absolutely no idea that the supervisor had called him anything, and promptly walked into a potted plant because he wasn't watching where he was going.]



[The employee laundry room yawned ominously away from the doorway, its gray-green basement lights buzzing in that ugly way that old, out-of-date electronics that no higher-up has felt necessary to replace so often do. The gaps between the tiles here were always wet, and filled with that gritty mush that resulted when bits of powdered laundry detergent spilled onto a damp floor and was allowed to sit. The whole place smelled like stagnant water from the machine in the corner that was always broken and filled up with cloudy water that nobody bothered to drain for weeks.]

[Old uniforms were strewn across the floor like corpses of long-forgotten staff members who had been trapped down here and died horribly.]</sub>


... Same old, same old...


_{[Heather sighed and stepped in, her boots skidding slightly on the soapscum-covered floor.]}

Don't eat anything I don't tell you is okay, Cooj.

_{[She leaned over the bin of clean uniforms, digging around in it with still-bandaged arms. She needed a new hat and didn't fancy getting screamed at for not having one if she was caught without it on the job.]}

Jesus, there can't be like fifty thousand clean shirts and no hats...


_{[Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder, brows furrowed. Cujo was standing stiffly behind her, his creamy hackles raised and normally-happy brown eyes wide and staring. A low, unsettled growl was drifting out of his throat and his stare was settled firmly on the employee lockers across the room. Swallowing, Heather withdrew from the bin slowly.]}

... What is it, boy?


<sub>[The growl increased in volume, and Heather frowned worriedly, following his gaze.]

[The source of his anxiety became clear instantly.]

[The door to Locker no. 9 was rattling gently, occasionally thumping. There was something inside it. Trying to get out.]

[The hairs on the back of Heather's neck stood up.]

[... It's... it's deja vu all over again...]


[The rattling was replaced by an insistent, metallic banging. Heather gulped, and reached out to pick up a nearby metal laundry basket.]</sub>

Stay here, Cooj...

_{[Slowly, warily, she approached the locker. As though sensing her nearing presence, the banging became louder and more violent. Adamant. Biting her lip, Heather reached out with a bandaged hand... and opened the locker.]}


--AAAUGH!



<sub>[The laundry basket went clanging to the floor as Heather fell backwards, knocked onto the damp, gritty floor as whatever was in the locker came lunging out at her like a desperate predator, barreling its warm weight into her chest and knocking her off-balance. Cujo erupted into a frenzy of barking and whimpering, knocking over the laundry bin as he turned in alarmed circles.]

[Heather thrashed on the floor, throwing the attacker off in the process and struggling to sit up defensively, teeth bared.]</sub>

I-- GET OFF! I'LL-- You-- .... uh. .... Huh?


_{[The attacker wagged its little cinnamon-bun of a tail, the speaker on its headphones giving out a cheery little crackle of static.]}

<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>

_{[When the camera comes on, Heather is looking half-asleep, and very confused. It's daybreak and the sky is still pale overhead.]}

Uh.... Hey, Rise? If you get this, I got a question for ya...

<sub>[Because Rise is her buddy and she's the first person Heather remembers actually hatching something.]

[The camera turns to show a very strange object sitting at the foot of Heather's sleeping bag:]</sub>


This was... totally just... there when I woke up this morning. It definitely wasn't there last night. I haven't seen one like it before, either... I thought maybe Claudy laid it or something, but it's like... bigger than she is.

_{[Heather isn't the only one confused by the egg's presence, either-- the infamous Hoothoot, not hiding in Heather's pack like normal at the moment, is curiously investigating the egg and doing what appears to be a mildly-alarmed dance involving a lot of head-bobbing and moving from foot to foot (but minus the shitty music). The egg is, indeed, bigger than she is.]}

Any clue what it is?

... Or how it got here?