Post by zom on Feb 10, 2009 17:37:07 GMT -5
Gosh, it was lovely. The chill of winter was lifting slowly but surely -- not today, and probably not tomorrow, but soon it would be spring. It made no difference to Maurice Divens what season it was. He liked them all; they all had beauty to them, and they all had their faults, too.
Winter, with its snow and its skeletal plants and crunching, dead grass had a more somber sort of beauty. It made for chilling paintings, grays and browns rather than the vivid colors Maury usually cared to use, unless he took some artistic license, as he so often did. The temperature was biting, but it kept him awake and alert, so he didn't mind.
Spree, on the other hand, was miserable.
+Too cold,+ he moaned, shivering as he slowly followed after his trainer. His leaves trembled violently, and they seemed darker than usual. Changing with the season, perhaps? Oh, they certainly wouldn't fall off, nor would they die, but they might if Maury kept him out in the cold more often.
+It's okay, Spee-Spee!+ chirped Dorian, hovering cheerfully around the Oddish, hardly phased by the temperature and certainly not bothered by any ice upon the ground -- he didn't walk. +I'll keep you nice 'n' warm with hugs! Yay~!+ With a birdlike, trilling sort of giggle, he swept down at the grass-type and enveloped poor Spree in a big hug, even lifting the Oddish into the air.
Maury chuckled, eying with slight curiosity the Pokemon Lab he could see in the distance. He would be there in mere minutes, now, not that he terribly needed an officially-distributed starter Pokemon. Obviously, he had several companions already, mostly stray creatures that he'd taken under his wing, though Kayley the Torkoal had been a gift, given away by some kiosk he'd come across.
He didn't mind extra company, whatever the case. One more added to the team sounded lovely to him! No doubt Dorian, the childlike Mespirit that was currently snuggling with an awkward and wiggling Spree, would be delighted to acquire a new friend. The rest weren't likely to be as excited at the prospect, particularly Bogart and Murphy, the former who would be wary and hostile and the latter horribly suspicious and nervous.
Ah, well. They would be fine.
The Smeargle morph's tail flicked lazily back and forth as he made his way down the trail to the Lab, paint dripping behind him, thick and navy blue. He either didn't notice this, or he simply didn't care. Every bit of his outfit was stained with paint; the thick, bumblebee-yellow hoodie, with a little cartoon bee on the chest; the baggy tee underneath, all neon shades of blue and green and yellow horizontal stripes; the faded blue-jeans, slightly too large for him and riding low on his hips; and even his Chucks, which were brightly-colored and had a busy pattern to begin with, making it tough to tell that there were paint stains at all. The Sharpedo-tooth necklace around his neck looked as though it had been dipped in green paint. Hell, his hair had spots of color, some that stood out against the mousy-brown, and some that had been accidentally rubbed in and blended slightly. None was dye; all of it was paint.
The artsy type. Of course; what else could be expected of a Smeargle Pokemorph?
Maury had reached the door to the Lab, then, and Dorian had stopped smothering Spree with love, now staring at the building. He'd been here before with his previous trainer; it was strange seeing it for a second time. He nibbled at his lip subconsciously, wondering what had happened to his beloved Jonas.
He wasn't allowed much time to ponder. Maury, after a few seconds of looking the building up and down, shrugged disinterestedly and started to walk around the building. He wouldn't be able to pick from the available suggestions, he was sure. He had no preference; all Pokemon were great in his eyes. So, he'd find a different one! He could get a ranger to catch him the first random creature he came across, right?
As he reached the patch of grass, he hoped to himself that whatever the ranger came across, it wouldn't be caught against its will. He hated the thought.
+Why're we here? Weren't you going to get a Pokemon?+ Spree blinked curiously, and Maury smiled a little.
"Yeah. Gonna get one from here, though; I didn't feel much like picking." The morph shrugged, and Dorian beamed.
+Yay! It'll be a surprise!+
+Oh,+ said Spree quietly. He'd been caught in this very spot, and recalling the horrible boy he'd wound up with as a result, he shuddered. Maury, when compared to Theo, was a freaking saint.
Maurice slid his hands, coated in a thin layer of creamy, soft fur, into the pocket of his hoodie, waiting patiently for a ranger to arrive. He was in no rush. Instead of calling out for someone, or getting impatient, he simply observed his surroundings, noted that the grass was brown and probably fragile due to the cold, but still tall. It had snowed about a week ago, so a little of the white was left upon the ground, hardened to ice by now. Occasionally he'd see out of the corner of his eye a bit of movement in the grass; wild Pokemon, he presumed.
Everything was relatively quiet, and Dorian had his hands pressed to his mouth so that he wouldn't start chattering and ruin the calm mood. Spree simply shivered, pouting.
Winter, with its snow and its skeletal plants and crunching, dead grass had a more somber sort of beauty. It made for chilling paintings, grays and browns rather than the vivid colors Maury usually cared to use, unless he took some artistic license, as he so often did. The temperature was biting, but it kept him awake and alert, so he didn't mind.
Spree, on the other hand, was miserable.
+Too cold,+ he moaned, shivering as he slowly followed after his trainer. His leaves trembled violently, and they seemed darker than usual. Changing with the season, perhaps? Oh, they certainly wouldn't fall off, nor would they die, but they might if Maury kept him out in the cold more often.
+It's okay, Spee-Spee!+ chirped Dorian, hovering cheerfully around the Oddish, hardly phased by the temperature and certainly not bothered by any ice upon the ground -- he didn't walk. +I'll keep you nice 'n' warm with hugs! Yay~!+ With a birdlike, trilling sort of giggle, he swept down at the grass-type and enveloped poor Spree in a big hug, even lifting the Oddish into the air.
Maury chuckled, eying with slight curiosity the Pokemon Lab he could see in the distance. He would be there in mere minutes, now, not that he terribly needed an officially-distributed starter Pokemon. Obviously, he had several companions already, mostly stray creatures that he'd taken under his wing, though Kayley the Torkoal had been a gift, given away by some kiosk he'd come across.
He didn't mind extra company, whatever the case. One more added to the team sounded lovely to him! No doubt Dorian, the childlike Mespirit that was currently snuggling with an awkward and wiggling Spree, would be delighted to acquire a new friend. The rest weren't likely to be as excited at the prospect, particularly Bogart and Murphy, the former who would be wary and hostile and the latter horribly suspicious and nervous.
Ah, well. They would be fine.
The Smeargle morph's tail flicked lazily back and forth as he made his way down the trail to the Lab, paint dripping behind him, thick and navy blue. He either didn't notice this, or he simply didn't care. Every bit of his outfit was stained with paint; the thick, bumblebee-yellow hoodie, with a little cartoon bee on the chest; the baggy tee underneath, all neon shades of blue and green and yellow horizontal stripes; the faded blue-jeans, slightly too large for him and riding low on his hips; and even his Chucks, which were brightly-colored and had a busy pattern to begin with, making it tough to tell that there were paint stains at all. The Sharpedo-tooth necklace around his neck looked as though it had been dipped in green paint. Hell, his hair had spots of color, some that stood out against the mousy-brown, and some that had been accidentally rubbed in and blended slightly. None was dye; all of it was paint.
The artsy type. Of course; what else could be expected of a Smeargle Pokemorph?
Maury had reached the door to the Lab, then, and Dorian had stopped smothering Spree with love, now staring at the building. He'd been here before with his previous trainer; it was strange seeing it for a second time. He nibbled at his lip subconsciously, wondering what had happened to his beloved Jonas.
He wasn't allowed much time to ponder. Maury, after a few seconds of looking the building up and down, shrugged disinterestedly and started to walk around the building. He wouldn't be able to pick from the available suggestions, he was sure. He had no preference; all Pokemon were great in his eyes. So, he'd find a different one! He could get a ranger to catch him the first random creature he came across, right?
As he reached the patch of grass, he hoped to himself that whatever the ranger came across, it wouldn't be caught against its will. He hated the thought.
+Why're we here? Weren't you going to get a Pokemon?+ Spree blinked curiously, and Maury smiled a little.
"Yeah. Gonna get one from here, though; I didn't feel much like picking." The morph shrugged, and Dorian beamed.
+Yay! It'll be a surprise!+
+Oh,+ said Spree quietly. He'd been caught in this very spot, and recalling the horrible boy he'd wound up with as a result, he shuddered. Maury, when compared to Theo, was a freaking saint.
Maurice slid his hands, coated in a thin layer of creamy, soft fur, into the pocket of his hoodie, waiting patiently for a ranger to arrive. He was in no rush. Instead of calling out for someone, or getting impatient, he simply observed his surroundings, noted that the grass was brown and probably fragile due to the cold, but still tall. It had snowed about a week ago, so a little of the white was left upon the ground, hardened to ice by now. Occasionally he'd see out of the corner of his eye a bit of movement in the grass; wild Pokemon, he presumed.
Everything was relatively quiet, and Dorian had his hands pressed to his mouth so that he wouldn't start chattering and ruin the calm mood. Spree simply shivered, pouting.