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Old 10-31-2011, 03:28 AM
Oracion's Avatar
Oracion Offline
Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Auster Portus Isle, Hoenn
Posts: 57
Default Re: New Horizons: Dark Arceus [all-inclusive mon/morph/trainer/wild/etc]

Veilstone Grand Hotel, Evening
Sometimes there comes a certain danger in losing yourself in your dreams; you don't know what you'll find, or remember, when you get there...

Mossdeep Space Station 100th launch Gala, Morning (approx 1 year ago)

“Do I really have to wear this stupid thing? I'm sweating like a poochyena with this on.” She tugged at the brilliantly bright green wig for the millionth time, struggling with her sleeves, as they were closed at the hands into glove-like hands with only three thick, green 'fingers'.

Julien gently pulled her hand away from her wig, straightening it to cover her dark brown hair again. “Hush, Callisto, you know how important it is that I appear like a relatively normal human for this. Please, it's only for one interview, then we can leave.”

A sea of humans blanketed the moss-green hills surrounding the space station, all gathered for the historical hundredth launch to the moon, buzzing with anticipation at the possibility that a public expedition to the moon will be held, allowing everyday trainers a chance to fly to the moon and find the legendary pokemon, Jirachi and Deoxys!

Callisto and Julien watched the crowd thicken into a solid mass of bodies from the windows of his jet. Today was also the day that Julien would officially take possession of his parent's company and finances, having found out about their death just recently, and he needed to appear in an interview for this launching gala to 'debut the young new face of the organization'. Obviously, that posed a million problems, one of which being his lack of pokemon, which was why he was busy adjusting the sleeves of Callisto's special Gardevoir dress, fussing over the scuffs on her shoes, brushing every stray lime-green hair out of her white powdered face and red contact lenses. She held her arms out straight at her sides while he fussed over every crease and stitch in her outfit, concentrating on levitating herself at least an inch off the ground and maintaining that distance without draining her already limited power. Callisto could feel the strain this was putting on her system and had to constantly ask Julien to pass her a bottle of Ether. “This will never work,” she murmured, holding her arms out again while concentrating on the lift, “I can't hold it long enough.”

Julien let out an airy, exhausted breath as he held his hands beneath her arms, ready to catch her if she lost control. “Don't strain yourself just for this,” he said in a voice that sounded like it itself had been squeezed of its strength, “If you can't, do not force yourself. I shall say you have been recently injured in battle, or that your senses were damaged, or, maybe, euh...I shall think of something. If not, it should be overlooked. Est-ce tout va bien au moment?”

“English, please.”

“Désol- euh, sorry.” If Callisto was nervous about this gala, Julien was mortified. Since he could not keep on masking his own appearance each time he went out in public, he had to go out into that swarm in his regular, odd morph clothes. She shot him curious glances now and then, still expecting the thick white mop of hair and red t-shirt of her old guardian, instead seeing Julien's grey suit with the yellow zig-zag across the waist, the stray strands of his silver hair that had rejected hair-dye completely, now in complete disarray. She couldn't help but feel a hint of concern when she saw how much his hands were shaking and how he seemed to be constantly shivering, as if there was an isolated patch of frigid air around him that would never let him be warm. He still managed to keep a grip on the cane with one hand, no matter what he was doing. It would possibly be easy for the public to believe he needed that cane for a knee injury, since his sickliness was also going to be used to explain his pallor and premature silvering hair. Callisto wondered how he could stand living with that cane nearly 24/7, and assumed it was force of habit that made him handle it so effortlessly.

Even though her knowledge of pokemon was limited, Julien wasn't anything Callisto thought a Dusknoir morph would be. First off, the pokemon was huge, freakishly huge both vertically and, well, horizontally, had a menacing, single red eye and was, from what she could guess, very powerful. Here, standing beside here, getting ready to step out into the waiting crowd, was a pathetically weak and feeble tooth-pick. During their entire week of travelling together he had barely spoken a hundred words to her, was continuing to not look her in the eye and wouldn't say why, and hadn't used a single pokemon move.

“Can he do anything at all?” She wondered with a bit of malice, while he leaned against his cane,still shivering but trying to smile with his usual calm, passive confidence. As an afterthought, she glanced back at the pile of empty ether bottles she had consumed just in the last five minutes. “Oh, right...Who am I to talk? But still, if Riley were here he'd know exactly how to act and what to do and what to say and everything would be fine because he'd know it would be...” A strange, whimpering sound came out from between her lips that made Julien quickly glance over at her with curiosity. Callisto waved him off. “Nothing.” her hand still went to her neck, where the broken gold chain, right now in her bag, usually lay. “Stop it, stop thinking about him, stop missing him. He's gone, okay? He ripped the locket right out from my hand and he's never coming back.”

The door of the jet let out a deep gust of wind like an ancient sigh. Sunlight and brilliantly blue sky spilled through the seams, opening wider still until the wall of pure noise and camera lenses crashed through as the door touched the ground with an inaudible thump. This part became a blur as she felt Julien rushing her through the swarm of humans, waving them away with a faint smile. Unconsciously she was clamping her eyes tightly shut, clinging to his arm as if for her life, like before with...

“Callisto,” the feathery voice came unusually loud, and she realized the noise from the crowd was gone. Callisto tentatively opened one eye, seeing the dark grey of Julien's sleeve and the bright white of something else. “I'm sorry,” Julien's voice continued, not against her ear this time, “She is not a battling pokemon; the crowd and noise are things she is not accustomed to.”

Callisto opened her eyes further and lifted her head from Julien's sleeve, seeing the square, slate-coloured ceiling tiles and halogen lights, the iron railings lining the upper level and the stairs, the rows of whirring computer desks, the huge walls of windows offering a view down the highest hill of Mossdeep, and above all, the starched white lab-coat of a professor standing right in front of Julien, watching her with some concern from behind his glasses. He was fairly tall, about fifty years old or so, with squared shoulders and a squarish head to match. His short black hair was grey at the temples, but the only wrinkles he had were the thought lines on his forehead. He had a very sharp brow bone which made him look like he was frowning all the time and a lot of stubble on his chin. Callisto flinched back when he leaned forward to get a better look at her, gripping Julien's sleeve tighter. “Poor thing,” the man said, pushing his glasses back up his nose, “she must be terrified.”

“It's okay,” Julien crooned, patting her shoulder reassuringly. He didn't take her arm or her hand or anything like that; that would simply be too odd for a trainer and a pokemon, “This is Professor Astro, the head scientist of the Space Station.”

Astro gave them a small nod and smile. “It's been a pleasure to meet you and your gardevoir, sir. She's, a bit, odd, though, isn't she?” He craned his head to try and get a better look at Callisto, who was now edging away to hide behind Julien.

“She is very shy.” Julien gently pushed her behind him. “Too much attention, too many people. She will not be any trouble, right?”

He briefly glanced down at Callisto, huddled against his back, before resuming his talk as if she was not there. It felt as though she wasn't, as the words seemed to leave their mouths and never reach her ears at all. She rested against Julien's back while he talked with the professor in his perpetually exhausted-sounding whisper, like she used to with Riley, but worried about toppling weak little Julien with her weight so only leaned very lightly. It took a monumental amount of self-control not to fidget with her gardevoir costume, not with all the watchful eyes, both human and camera, in the area. There was some sort of commotion somewhere near the entrance with a lot of shouting and shoving, something about some punks trying to sneak in and get a peek at the rocket before the launch. Unconsciously she leaned back harder against Julien, who didn't seem to notice her or the commotion behind him. Callisto was always nervous about shouting, Riley had always tried to move her somewhere else when a heated argument took place, but Julien simply ignored it. She was shaking and secretly hoping Julien would notice and maybe give her a hug or something, yet he continued to calmly converse with Astro, so she had no choice but to stare at the scene unfolding before her.

A group of thug-like punks had tried to sneak in the back way unnoticed, unsuccessfully of course, and both scientists and a small cluster of security personnel were trying to muscle the group, as well as their odd-looking pokemon, something like a small ursaing with goofy eyes and teeth, a greenish yanma and something like a mightyena crossed with a manectric. The tall shaven head of a semi-toothless brute filled the door as he shouted a garble of curses to no one in particular on his way out. Callisto shook at the sight of him at first, mainly because of his loudness and largeness, but another one, the ratty, sneaky-looking one, sent icicles up her spine. He saw her, from halfway across the main floor, watching them get herded out like a flock of mareep. He stared at her with a mix of curiosity and slit-eyed suspicion. Callisto tensed until the tall brute dragged him out the door by the back of the collar.

“Come on Alex, let's beat it, this blows.”

She couldn't relax. This was something even worse than one of her visions. She cursed herself for wishing earlier for something interesting to happen...


Veilstone Outskirts, Evening

Sometimes dreams lead you to where you least want to return...
Acuity City (Route 217), Late Afternoon (Many years ago)

“Why am I here?” The snow fell in a solid white sheet on all sides. He sat on a low fence, already half-buried in the storm, struggling to keep his balance on the slippery logs that formed it. Julien didn't know where he was, what he was doing here, couldn't even remember where he had come from and why he had left. The faintest hint of warm, black droplets were on his gloves. He didn't know where they came from, but was sure the answer lay waiting somewhere in his mind. The snow blew in angry flurries of icy breaths, sinking into his skin and veins, deadening any sensation of warmth and feeling in his body. “Maybe this is what death feels like.” He would've smiled, but that would invite feeling back into his bones and break the spell. The topper of his cane had caught between the fence and the snow. With a bit of effort he clumsily pulled the end of his cane from the notch in the fence, accidentally hitting himself on the forehead and the jaw before resting it awkwardly over his shoulder. “I'm never gong to get used to this thing...” he thought as he rubbed the slightly sore spot on his forehead.

Looking ahead, he could see between the gap of two, low, one-storey buildings, hunched from the weight of snow like old beggars. The fence was at the back of this open alley, setting a weak divide between the vast, empty wilderness and this hunched-looking city. Julien watched the occasional human run across his view to the city's snow-enveloped streets, huddled in huge, bulky clothes and never stopping to look where they were scrambling to. The blur of wind and snow and the bundles of clothes passing by on the streets slowly melted and blended in with everything until the world looked like a vast sheet of grey...


Snapping into consciousness, Julien flinched and curled into a little ball on the fence. The hook of his cane jabbed uncomfortably into his cheek as he did so, staring back at the wide dark eyes of a bundle of clothes, standing in the gap between the buildings, watching with unbidden curiosity. An odd, whimper-like sound came out from Julien's throat, which was snatched away by the roaring wind before it reached any ears. The thing staring at him was human, a girl it seemed, only a few years younger than he. Possibly seven or eight years at most.

When Julien showed no signs of uncurling the girl took a step or two forward. The snow swallowed her from the knees down as she shuffled towards him. “Mister,” she yelled above the storm's howl, “There's a blizzard coming, get to shelter! MISTER!” she yelled out in frustration at Julien's non responsiveness, hugging her bulky fur-padded jacket around her torso.

Through the blinding sheet of wind and snow they locked eyes with each other, both curious about the other strange creature in front of them.
“What a strange little thing,” Julien thought, “Is it, a human? No, it's much too small. This must be their pre-evolved form.”

“Mister!” she yelled again, voice cracking with the effort, “Get to shelter, it's a blizzard!”

“What is she saying?” Julien wondered. “I can't remember much human tongue...”

Suddenly, a strange sort of spasm overcame the girl. Her eyelids shot back, revealing as much whites as possible. Her jaw and arms fell limp as he body seemed to shake, like a puppet on strings handled by an agitated puppeteer. Then, with a last, faint gasp, the strings relaxed and dropped the bundle of rags into the snow. Empty, lifeless.

Julien let out a small gasp of his own, squeezing into an even tighter ball. The girl didn't move. Cautiously, carefully, he uncurled, still hugging his knees to his chin. “H-h-hullo?” The human word rolled and clumped in his mouth before being able to escape, still sounding awkward and alien and too soft to be heard by anyone. He leaned forwards and tried again louder. “Hullo? You?” The icy wind couldn't made him shiver, yet he was shaking like a leaf. “Please? You? Hullo? Hullo?”


Professor Aspen
Johto Medical Research Center, Late Afternoon busy shouting at someone to clean up the coffee on the floor so we'll get back to him later...


Recon A
Mauville Gym, Afternoon
“Is it really that serious?” The gym leader, Wattson, crossed his arms as the lady electrician was giving him the report.

She nodded rapidly. “It's a risk for the entire bike route and pedestrian path, we'll have to close both down for about an hour to let me and my partner finish the generator repairs.”

Wattson looked skeptical; New Mauville had nothing powerful enough to generate electric discharge on the level she was describing. Still, with the recent swarm of reporters hungry for the next big scandal...”I'll alert the Slateport side, we'll close it off once everyone has cleared off.” The electrician nodded brightly and gave his a salute before hopping out the door. Wattson shook his head gravely, hands on his waist. Trusting that company was quite a task, for personal reasons. Never had he thought the electricians sent would be from Felicity. Never had he thought that he would one day hear of, that place, again.

Felicity Isle, to the furthest north-east corner of Hoenn, out of sight even from Mossdeep, was his home those many years ago when he and his two inseparable friends attended the academy on the island's only city, on the south-east end, away from the weapons laboratory on the north-west half. One day, on his friend's tenth birthday, the day he was supposed to receive his official trainer card, he was sent to the hospital after a serious incident. That was the last Wattson ever heard of him...

The lady electrician lounged in the shade of a pillar beneath the bike route, texting while gradually the cyclists were cleared off the path. “Yo, Des,” she typed in, “how's the job going?”

[It's Desmond, Troy, and it's a load of ****, no thanks to you.]

Des and Troy
Route 110 (beneath Bike Road), Afternoon
Troy grumbled. Tori, you *****, the name's Tori. Hurry up, we got the clear for the rest of the job, I want to get back by dinner.”

[Fine, Troy, when XCTR is totally ****-ed up, I'll say a ***** was biting me in the ass to do a sloppy job.]

XCTR was the abbreviation for the Sector Laboratories. Wavelengths were intercepted on a daily basis, it couldn't hurt to be too careful. “Shut it. Heard Pine was already pissed. Get this right. Meet me when you're done, I'll check the area right now.” Troy watched the screen process Des' next message. Flicking the cover of her pokenav shut, she grimaced in disgust. What was sent through cannot be posted on any PG to PG-13 site, so I'll leave it up to the reader to imagine.

((continued next post))
"See the lost souls in my eyes.
Hear the silence in my heart.
Feel the darkness in my soul..."

PS, avatar is my original work!

Last edited by Oracion; 10-31-2011 at 03:43 AM.
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