Empty Stomachs and Empty Threats [Shirogane]

[Lydian Bellecourt]

Lydian was not a happy Umbreon. Not in the least. His tail was twitching behind him, ears flat back against his head, and his posture was stiff, like that of a gargoyle etched on the edge of a cathedral, about to take flight. It wasn't hard to see that he was irritated, and when you dissected his morning down into its components, it wasn't very hard to see why. He'd spent the morning tossing and turning, his pillow tugged up over his head to try to keep out a sliver of sunlight that had slipped in through the curtains. He'd finally gotten into a slight doze with three pillows over his head and his blankets tugged up atop that, and then Lina had barged in the door, yelling and singing at the top of her lungs, and Medusa had been right at her heels. Needless to say, he'd frightened the poor Deino quite a bit with his snarling and snapping, though the true target of his ire had remained quite unaffected. He'd done without breakfast since his sister had eaten everything that he would have thought to consume, and now here he was, tramping out into the cold to try to do some training. In retrospect, perhaps he was just so irritable because of the cold. But that was a theory that he wasn't going to investigate. He'd much rather sit here, his dark fur fluffed out and his sharp crimson eyes looking out over the expanse of the snow-covered village where he had sent Rebel out to try to explore. He wasn't going back until he'd gotten some progress done on increasing his and Rebel's strength, and that was final.

[attr="class","lydilefticon"] Words: 281 Tags: Shirogane Haru Template by Kuroya. [attr="class","lydileftmon"] Active: - Name - Name - Name

Notes:

Apparently my ability to write long posts is shot orz

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[SHIROGANE HARU]

The cold was like a parasite burying itself in his skin. Haru had never been good at handling extreme climates. The boy had inherited what his mother called 'a delicate constitution'; in other words, if this was the wild and his family a wolf pack, Haru would be the runt. He sneezed and adjusted his scarf in irritation. Like his pokemorph form, Haru was not very expressive. His aggravation was clear only in the barely-concealed twitch of his fingers and the occasional unprovoked furrowing of his brow. A thick, wool-lined coat was nowhere near enough to protect the slender man from the unforgiving elements. When he tried to bury himself further into the layers of clothing, he received an inquisitive chirp from the spheal trundling behind. "... I don't want to hear that coming from you." Haru muttered, puffs of frosted air emitted with each word. The spheal appeared oblivious to the privilege that its thick-fat provided against the cold. Instead, the speckled pokemon tilted its round head-body and let out an affectionate, reassuring chirp, waddling towards its trainer. Haru relented, scooping the pokemon up and holding it close. Phineas was exceedingly useful in situations like this. No matter how much snow the spheal burrowed into, it always remained impossibly warm. Haru shamelessly took advantage of the pokemon's exceptional circulation, using the spheal as his own personal heat source. In exchange, Phineas received the affection he always craved. That, and a free ride. "Hang on, now. What's this?" The white-haired man mused, pausing in his slowed-step to stare at the fluffy black shape in the distance. It was undoubtedly a pokemon, an umbreon from the looks of it. A dark type, but magnificently elegant nonetheless. Haru felt that familiar possessive urge overcome him, a constant battle between taking what he wanted even if it posed an imminent threat to his own wellbeing. Then again, the setback was usually what encouraged him all the more. Some would way he loved the thorns even more than the flower. And so, sights set on his target, Haru headed unabashedly in the umbreon's direction. He knew the disadvantage he was at, but disregarded it completely. He wanted the pokemon and had made up his mind that he would have it. MADE BY KIROUKO OF GANGNAM-STYLE

[Lydian Bellecourt]

Lydian's ears twitched, the black fur ruffling with a gust of wind. He could have sworn that he heard something, and it was with that suspicion that he got to his feet, the elegant Umbreon trying not to shiver in the cold as he peered around in the surroundings, searching for something in the white snow that could have possibly set off his guard. He was well aware that there were all sorts of Pokemon on the island, and that a large majority of them were not friendly. He and Rebel had survived far too long in the darkness to give up quite so easily. That was why he started growling, a warning to anything that might be nearby that he wasn't any kind of pushover, the equivalent of pushing someone's shoulder and snarling a loud Back off! His hackles were rising, fur standing up on end in an instinctive attempt to make him look bigger than he was, and he was almost certain that the yellow rings of fur around his tail and ears, and the circles on his elbows and forehead, were glowing softly with his emotion. A human. A human with a Spheal in his arms was approaching. Lydian tried to relax his hackles a little, reassuring himself that it wasn't a threat, but his mind kept seeing things in the way that the other was walking towards him that only set his instincts flaring higher, the urge to run or to fight coursing through his veins and making his legs tremble. Just standing didn't seem like a good idea, but fleeing didn't sit well with his pride. Instead, he growled louder, feeling a little bit of darkness creeping around him, as if his shadow was roiling slightly beneath his paws. Hopefully a little intimidation would help communicate the idea that he wasn't to be messed with, as well as help it click into the man's head that he wasn't a Pokemon, he was a human. He wasn't going to go down easy.

[attr="class","lydilefticon"] Words: 336 Tags: Shirogane Haru Template by Kuroya. [attr="class","lydileftmon"] Active: - Name - Name - Name

Notes:

Slowly gonna get through these posts like a baws.

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[SHIROGANE HARU]

Haru was no idiot. Brash as he might seem, there was a plan behind it. As he approached the pokemon, he was piecing things together in his mind, figuring out as much as he could from the present situation. One thing was for certain; this umbreon was human. Now, the manner in which Haru had come to this conclusion was really not that complicated. First of all, location, location, location. Where were they? Forje Village. Where was Forje Village? Nowhere. What was Forje Village? A pile of dilapidated rust and ash. There was no food, water, or nearby shelter that wouldn't collapse over your head upon a second's notice. Survival-wise, it didn't make sense. Secondly was the umbreon's disposition. The pokemon hadn't run at the sight of him, and although it was true that the spread of the shadows had dramatically raised the level of hostility in wild pokemon located in the affected areas, this umbreon was merely watching him. It had made no move to charge, instead puffing up despite the fact that it was clearly outnumbered. Which begged the question, was it really? Either it was overly confident (which it definitely wasn't, or it would've attacked by now), was simply that strong (in which case, it must be smart, too, so why was it here?), or had backup. Seeing as the plains of snow stretched on endlessly with no other obvious black dots in sight, Haru knew the creature was not part of a pack. It was standing its ground because it was confident it was going to show him a lesson, which meant it possessed some trick up its sleeve, some element of surprise that would leave Haru feeling embarrassed and alarmed. Naturally, the only possibility was that it was human. And if it wasn't (but it was), then Haru would just catch it and no one would be any wiser. "Go on," Haru murmured to Phineas, and the spheal dropped from his arms and disappeared into the snow, burrowing out of sight as it headed towards the umbreon in an unseen direction. The white-haired man smirked, now close enough that he could see just how beautiful the pokemon really was. Even with its fur fluffed to the proportions of a jolteon, its crimson eyes stood out like fearsome gems daring only the boldest of explorers to reach out for them. Haru stopped, mere feet away from the dark-type, and casually removed his mittens. There was another deciding factor, of course. As a meowstic, Haru was painfully at a disadvantage, but how was a wild pokemon to know a psychic type from a grass type? There was always the chance of past experience and which moves worked best on which foes, but Haru knew best that no pokemon in their right mind (especially not one of such a refined species as his) would be caught dead out here in the middle of winter. If this was a wild umbreon, it had never met a mewostic in its life; which meant it would all come down to what happened if and when he transformed. How would this umbreon's disposition change? Or maybe it wouldn't at all, in which case he would have Phineas jumping out of the snow and snagging this lucky catch before the pokemon could so much as let out another growl. "Well, aren't you quite a sight. It's not every day someone comes across a creature like yourself." He chuckled, adjusting his scarf and letting out a cloud of warm air as he did so. "Then again, you're not a creature, are you? I wonder what you really look like." MADE BY KIROUKO OF GANGNAM-STYLE