A Pathfinder's Reminder
Mar 27, 2019 11:21:49 GMT -8
Post by mcdoogles on Mar 27, 2019 11:21:49 GMT -8
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{Proof of Encounter}Proof of Encounter {Proof of Trainer Battle}Proof of Trainer Battle {Team Declaration}
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#291
Muscle Band
#214
It had been two months since Silas Edington had left Scurarte, endowed with promises made that would herald him halfway across Godai in search of a single, questionable soul. Despite the passage of time, his steps hadn’t carried him very far. In fact, he’d not even crossed to where he hadn’t gone, before. For whatever reason, the young man from Kotoba City just couldn’t bring himself to venture forward. Something had gripped him tight and refused to let go. A very cerebral sort of individual, Silas Edington had often used the faculties of his mind to investigate and critique the world as he saw it. From the manner in which people treated others to the way that the complex functions of society and the miracle that it was that it even worked, at all, Silas considered himself a student of the great mystery of life.
He was still in his infancy with the shaping of his worldview, but so much of his effort and focus was upon that growth and was so outward in its reflection that Silas rarely ever considered the reasons for why he felt anything. It was, perhaps, a strange sensation and an uncomfortable one to look at one’s own motivations from a purely objective standpoint. If anything, that discomfort and lack of competency was likely why the Bug-type trainer was safely avoiding the subject and, instead, taking his leisure to cut out for himself a little part of the world that he could call his own. Silas had never gone to university, before, and there had been a sizable investment that was left to him for that purpose that had been carefully eating a hole through his pockets. On an impulse, Silas decided to put it to impractical use, which was, perhaps, his first sign that something was awry. Being an incredibly pragmatic individual and a minimalist at heart, such frivolous spending had never been something that he’d thought worthwhile.
Much had changed for him, from his wardrobe to his hair and to his standard of living as he carried on his stagnant journey. The clothes he donned were much better fitting, having grown accustomed to the appeal the lacking pockets of the dress slacks that he’d borrowed from Jack Caelum, one of the lead physicians at the local Pokémon Center. The utility was nice, but ever since Silas had suddenly found himself encumbered with a girlfriend, he had become much more conscious of his appearance. He’d adopted a much more casual look with various pairs of dark washed, slim feat jeans, t-shirts with designs and logos emblazoned on the chest of music groups or some quip or saying that Silas wasn’t really in the know of and plain long-sleeved shirts for when the weather turned.
Silas’s more questionable piece of attire, which he was still in the process of getting used to, was a thin, black leather jacket, which his girlfriend, Lyra Colt, had insisted would look good on him. Personally, he didn’t think he was a very leather-bound sort of individual. Whenever Silas looked at himself in the mirror, he felt that his plain features didn’t express the proper attitude that such a jacket embodied. Another change that was still unnerving him was that his bangs had been cut away, though it still remained a proper, untamed mess atop his head. No longer could he hide behind a veil of dirt brown hair, as if it might protect him from the world. He supposed it was fair and, once again, the suggestion had been from Lyra.
With distance forced between them, and Silas vowing himself that he wouldn’t return to Scurarte until the return of the Vow of Lights Festival, they saw one another only over the video feed from Silas’s holocaster. As a matter of habit, their mornings would be spent over breakfast with one another and a final call would be placed before falling asleep. Often times, their conversations would carry them well into the early hours of the morning and the two would end up falling asleep without ever hanging up with one another.
Silas’s living conditions had also vastly improved. He hired a team of field contractors who came with him on an excursion into Skytouch Forest. For nearly a week, they scoured the dense forest in search of a tree large enough and remote enough that it could serve Silas’s purposes as a den of his own. A first home, of sorts, that would keep him close enough to his parents in Kotoba, but also close enough to Lyra that he wouldn’t feel any guilt in electing one over the other. To him, it seemed the diplomatic approach. When they’d found one suitable enough, whose thick roots were strong in the earth, whose bough opened and spread out like a canvas of protection against the sun and stood prominently alone, warding off any brothers or sisters who would have to twist and bend away from its magnificence if they wanted their spot in the light. This was the one that they’d elected and the contractors and their Pokémon set to the task of hollowing it out.
It was fashioned into a proper home, though it naturally lacked certain amenities—namely running water and electricity. Thankfully, the tree was not far from the river that ran through the heart of the forest and a small generator was enough to keep everything powered for Silas’s purposes. A small kitchenette was installed, a living space with comfortable seating and low set tables, sectional rugs that canvased the natural wood floors which were polished and varnished to stave off any decay. A fireplace had been expertly crafted, the flue blackened out and then lined with metal so that there would be no fear of Silas’s home suddenly catching fire while preparing a meal. Any smoke produced was fed harmlessly through a large gap between two of the tree’s proud branches, ensuring that the stifling fumes wouldn’t seep their way into the leaves.
Silas worked with Jack Caelum to install a PC system, as well as a small NRG system and instructed him in its use. He cautioned Silas that any serious injuries to his Pokémon would still need to be properly handled by a physician and to take his Pokémon to Kotoba, should anything occur. Silas was given the name Lucinda Graves as his point of contact, with Jack insisting that she would take excellent care of him. Silas also subscribed to a regular shipping service, which helped in the procuring of food, drinking water and whatever other general goods he might need to sustain himself while staying somewhat sedentary within Skytouch Forest.
A small ladder led to the loft where Silas’s bed was kept. It was comfortable enough and several quilts were more than enough to keep him warm at night beneath the shaded veil of the forest. All in all, Silas was pleased with it. It was his, and that was a new sort of feeling. He finally felt as if he were living on his own, feeding himself, making his daily decisions entirely unsupervised. It was the first time that Silas truly felt like an adult. There was a pride in that level of independence. It made him feel a little taller and able to set his shoulders back more.
Other things, had changed, as well. Two of his Pokémon had now evolved and Tithonus the Nincada was now Tithonus the Ninjask. As an odd turn of events, his Nincada refused to shed a second skin and produce the mysterious phenomenon known as Shedinja. Tithonus had always been a bit odd for his species, anyways, so Silas didn’t concern himself with the matter. What was interesting was that his companion could finally see. He was no longer blind and that had been something of an adjustment period. Curiosity overwhelmed Tithonus, but he was still visibly freaked out by things that he wasn’t able to experience as a Nincada, such as the presence of his own shadow or facial expressions. Silas had a right laugh when he suddenly contorted his face, sneering and making all sorts of odd looks and his Pokémon thought something had seriously gone wrong with his trainer. Silas was latched onto immediately, as if smothering the faces might make them go away.
Aleron, too, had evolved and the change in personality had been something that Silas hadn’t expected. As a Karrablast, he’d always been rather proud. Proud, yet entirely unrefined. Now, there was a noble quality to his Pokémon, who spent a good majority of his time patrolling around the home, making sure that their territory was safely established and monitored. Morrigan, also, aided in this pursuit and marked out their small swathe of the forest based upon the availability of tree sap in the surrounding canopy. While she was still as stubborn and bullheaded as ever, something had eased between Silas and his Heracross. She still refused his commands when it came to her own battles and her embarrassment and discomfort at affection was ever-present, but there was an odd, residual warmth that Silas could feel.
Adalat, the Dewpider, and Sen, the Cutiefly, had become a rather inseparable pair. Both seeming to enjoy tactile sensations and bouts of wrestling, they fed off of one another’s surprising amount of energy. Silas considered them the light of the home. They offered character and a certain nonchalance that he desperately needed in his life. As a duo, the two pestered his more matured Pokémon to no end and all but Morrigan seemed understanding of it. Tithonus would indulge Sen in flight games, weaving through trees on childlike games of tag, though there was no comparing their speeds. As lazy as a Pokémon as Tithonus could be, his evolution had adapted all of that sluggishness into the very source of his strength. Adalat was a fan of Aleron’s, seeming quite inspired by the Escavalier’s strict adherence to duty. Adalat, however, also made a habit of mocking Aleron in all of his staunchness which seemed to annoy him to no end.
Silas was finally getting to know his companions and their individual strengths. He was attempting to play with them more, relaxing into the role of caretaker as much as he was their authority. They had grown a lot over the last few months, but Silas was still feeling a void somewhere in his life. There was a fundamental piece of himself that wasn’t falling into place. The work on his forest home, his Pokémon and the still-fresh experience of having his first girlfriend had done well to distract him from the pursuit of that answer, but now that things were settling into a routine, that question was beginning to rear its ugly head, again.
As the Bug Specialist from Kotoba sat on a thick limb of the tree he’d carved out for himself, he looked out over the clearing ahead of him. There was never much to see, but Silas didn’t mind. He could watch the wind move through the canopy or watch the sunset early, see the way that the light bled through the leaves and touched the ground. Every once and a while, he’d see a Pokémon and watch it forage, just studying it while it hadn’t realized that he was there. Silas was comfortable, here, and that, perhaps, was chiefly his problem.
The bright hum of moving wings caught Silas’s ear and he held up his arm, extending it out in front of him. In a rush of movement, Tithonus was soon perched upon him and crawling quickly to his shoulder. The Pokémon was quite a bit heavier than he once was, but Silas still didn’t mind. “Did you find any food?” He asked his companion, who gave a quick flutter of his wings and made a low, rattling chirp. “Good…”
Silas inhaled a breath and let it out slowly. “What do you think it is, Tithonus?” He knew his Pokémon couldn’t really answer, but they’d been on their own for so long that it just felt natural to bounce his thoughts off of him, all the same. “Why can’t I move forward? I know I have to get to Kroy…Find Kieran Colt and bring him back to Scurarte before the year is done. I know that. Why does it feel like I’m…?”
Silas didn’t have a word for it, yet. Pedestrian, perhaps? It hardly mattered. What mattered is that he knew he couldn’t remain as he was. He just needed a catalyst. Something to force the first step. Then, maybe, the second one would be easier.
He was still in his infancy with the shaping of his worldview, but so much of his effort and focus was upon that growth and was so outward in its reflection that Silas rarely ever considered the reasons for why he felt anything. It was, perhaps, a strange sensation and an uncomfortable one to look at one’s own motivations from a purely objective standpoint. If anything, that discomfort and lack of competency was likely why the Bug-type trainer was safely avoiding the subject and, instead, taking his leisure to cut out for himself a little part of the world that he could call his own. Silas had never gone to university, before, and there had been a sizable investment that was left to him for that purpose that had been carefully eating a hole through his pockets. On an impulse, Silas decided to put it to impractical use, which was, perhaps, his first sign that something was awry. Being an incredibly pragmatic individual and a minimalist at heart, such frivolous spending had never been something that he’d thought worthwhile.
Much had changed for him, from his wardrobe to his hair and to his standard of living as he carried on his stagnant journey. The clothes he donned were much better fitting, having grown accustomed to the appeal the lacking pockets of the dress slacks that he’d borrowed from Jack Caelum, one of the lead physicians at the local Pokémon Center. The utility was nice, but ever since Silas had suddenly found himself encumbered with a girlfriend, he had become much more conscious of his appearance. He’d adopted a much more casual look with various pairs of dark washed, slim feat jeans, t-shirts with designs and logos emblazoned on the chest of music groups or some quip or saying that Silas wasn’t really in the know of and plain long-sleeved shirts for when the weather turned.
Silas’s more questionable piece of attire, which he was still in the process of getting used to, was a thin, black leather jacket, which his girlfriend, Lyra Colt, had insisted would look good on him. Personally, he didn’t think he was a very leather-bound sort of individual. Whenever Silas looked at himself in the mirror, he felt that his plain features didn’t express the proper attitude that such a jacket embodied. Another change that was still unnerving him was that his bangs had been cut away, though it still remained a proper, untamed mess atop his head. No longer could he hide behind a veil of dirt brown hair, as if it might protect him from the world. He supposed it was fair and, once again, the suggestion had been from Lyra.
With distance forced between them, and Silas vowing himself that he wouldn’t return to Scurarte until the return of the Vow of Lights Festival, they saw one another only over the video feed from Silas’s holocaster. As a matter of habit, their mornings would be spent over breakfast with one another and a final call would be placed before falling asleep. Often times, their conversations would carry them well into the early hours of the morning and the two would end up falling asleep without ever hanging up with one another.
Silas’s living conditions had also vastly improved. He hired a team of field contractors who came with him on an excursion into Skytouch Forest. For nearly a week, they scoured the dense forest in search of a tree large enough and remote enough that it could serve Silas’s purposes as a den of his own. A first home, of sorts, that would keep him close enough to his parents in Kotoba, but also close enough to Lyra that he wouldn’t feel any guilt in electing one over the other. To him, it seemed the diplomatic approach. When they’d found one suitable enough, whose thick roots were strong in the earth, whose bough opened and spread out like a canvas of protection against the sun and stood prominently alone, warding off any brothers or sisters who would have to twist and bend away from its magnificence if they wanted their spot in the light. This was the one that they’d elected and the contractors and their Pokémon set to the task of hollowing it out.
It was fashioned into a proper home, though it naturally lacked certain amenities—namely running water and electricity. Thankfully, the tree was not far from the river that ran through the heart of the forest and a small generator was enough to keep everything powered for Silas’s purposes. A small kitchenette was installed, a living space with comfortable seating and low set tables, sectional rugs that canvased the natural wood floors which were polished and varnished to stave off any decay. A fireplace had been expertly crafted, the flue blackened out and then lined with metal so that there would be no fear of Silas’s home suddenly catching fire while preparing a meal. Any smoke produced was fed harmlessly through a large gap between two of the tree’s proud branches, ensuring that the stifling fumes wouldn’t seep their way into the leaves.
Silas worked with Jack Caelum to install a PC system, as well as a small NRG system and instructed him in its use. He cautioned Silas that any serious injuries to his Pokémon would still need to be properly handled by a physician and to take his Pokémon to Kotoba, should anything occur. Silas was given the name Lucinda Graves as his point of contact, with Jack insisting that she would take excellent care of him. Silas also subscribed to a regular shipping service, which helped in the procuring of food, drinking water and whatever other general goods he might need to sustain himself while staying somewhat sedentary within Skytouch Forest.
A small ladder led to the loft where Silas’s bed was kept. It was comfortable enough and several quilts were more than enough to keep him warm at night beneath the shaded veil of the forest. All in all, Silas was pleased with it. It was his, and that was a new sort of feeling. He finally felt as if he were living on his own, feeding himself, making his daily decisions entirely unsupervised. It was the first time that Silas truly felt like an adult. There was a pride in that level of independence. It made him feel a little taller and able to set his shoulders back more.
Other things, had changed, as well. Two of his Pokémon had now evolved and Tithonus the Nincada was now Tithonus the Ninjask. As an odd turn of events, his Nincada refused to shed a second skin and produce the mysterious phenomenon known as Shedinja. Tithonus had always been a bit odd for his species, anyways, so Silas didn’t concern himself with the matter. What was interesting was that his companion could finally see. He was no longer blind and that had been something of an adjustment period. Curiosity overwhelmed Tithonus, but he was still visibly freaked out by things that he wasn’t able to experience as a Nincada, such as the presence of his own shadow or facial expressions. Silas had a right laugh when he suddenly contorted his face, sneering and making all sorts of odd looks and his Pokémon thought something had seriously gone wrong with his trainer. Silas was latched onto immediately, as if smothering the faces might make them go away.
Aleron, too, had evolved and the change in personality had been something that Silas hadn’t expected. As a Karrablast, he’d always been rather proud. Proud, yet entirely unrefined. Now, there was a noble quality to his Pokémon, who spent a good majority of his time patrolling around the home, making sure that their territory was safely established and monitored. Morrigan, also, aided in this pursuit and marked out their small swathe of the forest based upon the availability of tree sap in the surrounding canopy. While she was still as stubborn and bullheaded as ever, something had eased between Silas and his Heracross. She still refused his commands when it came to her own battles and her embarrassment and discomfort at affection was ever-present, but there was an odd, residual warmth that Silas could feel.
Adalat, the Dewpider, and Sen, the Cutiefly, had become a rather inseparable pair. Both seeming to enjoy tactile sensations and bouts of wrestling, they fed off of one another’s surprising amount of energy. Silas considered them the light of the home. They offered character and a certain nonchalance that he desperately needed in his life. As a duo, the two pestered his more matured Pokémon to no end and all but Morrigan seemed understanding of it. Tithonus would indulge Sen in flight games, weaving through trees on childlike games of tag, though there was no comparing their speeds. As lazy as a Pokémon as Tithonus could be, his evolution had adapted all of that sluggishness into the very source of his strength. Adalat was a fan of Aleron’s, seeming quite inspired by the Escavalier’s strict adherence to duty. Adalat, however, also made a habit of mocking Aleron in all of his staunchness which seemed to annoy him to no end.
Silas was finally getting to know his companions and their individual strengths. He was attempting to play with them more, relaxing into the role of caretaker as much as he was their authority. They had grown a lot over the last few months, but Silas was still feeling a void somewhere in his life. There was a fundamental piece of himself that wasn’t falling into place. The work on his forest home, his Pokémon and the still-fresh experience of having his first girlfriend had done well to distract him from the pursuit of that answer, but now that things were settling into a routine, that question was beginning to rear its ugly head, again.
As the Bug Specialist from Kotoba sat on a thick limb of the tree he’d carved out for himself, he looked out over the clearing ahead of him. There was never much to see, but Silas didn’t mind. He could watch the wind move through the canopy or watch the sunset early, see the way that the light bled through the leaves and touched the ground. Every once and a while, he’d see a Pokémon and watch it forage, just studying it while it hadn’t realized that he was there. Silas was comfortable, here, and that, perhaps, was chiefly his problem.
The bright hum of moving wings caught Silas’s ear and he held up his arm, extending it out in front of him. In a rush of movement, Tithonus was soon perched upon him and crawling quickly to his shoulder. The Pokémon was quite a bit heavier than he once was, but Silas still didn’t mind. “Did you find any food?” He asked his companion, who gave a quick flutter of his wings and made a low, rattling chirp. “Good…”
Silas inhaled a breath and let it out slowly. “What do you think it is, Tithonus?” He knew his Pokémon couldn’t really answer, but they’d been on their own for so long that it just felt natural to bounce his thoughts off of him, all the same. “Why can’t I move forward? I know I have to get to Kroy…Find Kieran Colt and bring him back to Scurarte before the year is done. I know that. Why does it feel like I’m…?”
Silas didn’t have a word for it, yet. Pedestrian, perhaps? It hardly mattered. What mattered is that he knew he couldn’t remain as he was. He just needed a catalyst. Something to force the first step. Then, maybe, the second one would be easier.
| Edit Reasons: Added Proof of Encounter, Grammar Fix |
| Word Count: 2,100 |
| Character Name: Silas Edington |
- Grassy Seed
