Roach

Intertwined | Pokemon

While Zola didn't not remember Flynn Arata, neither did she remember Flynn looking quite like they did now: perfect in poise, like a ballerina or a supermodel serving face. It was less akin to the home-grown beauties they had in New Bark – Kat with her costumes, Nao with her whole everything, and reluctantly Kiel – and more... More. She didn't like the first words she thought of to describe it, and buried herself further under her shawls. Better not to worry about it. Some people had gorgeous red hair and fancy travelling cloaks, and some people (like Zola) were (probably) good at other other things.

They were reuniting with old friends, too, good for them. Zola had to hand it to Cho – she managed to get most of their generation present now for the trip.

As one by one the trailblazers of the group began to rush ahead, Zola suggested, "Maybe we should... conserve energy. Stick a bit closer together in case of wild Pokemon attacks..." When even Dante's Poochyena decided that Kiel's plan to race was a valid one, she sighed, hiking up her bag further to settle on her shoulder. "Or, or I guess we can not do that."

But even Zola herself was challenged in what would become known as The Worst Betrayal Of All Time by Nao. She wasn't allowed to just coast by at the rear of the group, she had to jog. Even just sprinting to fall in line with her friend had her sweating, the travel pots and pans in her luggage clattering off each other with every second step.

"Nao, I didn't even get a chance to stretch!"

Duo stopped screeching in a tone that was far less eerie than the actual Nata and nearly rolled off Zola's padded shoulder when it re-transformed, and Mr. Spike was clinging on for dear life to the handle of her backpack like a rider might hold on to a saddle, and Zola herself was going to pull a muscle for sure on the journey if they kept up a pace like this for the whole thing.

Maybe all of the muscles.

Intertwined | Pokemon

Interacting With: The Group, Sam Quinn@Fiber

This is it. This was how she would die: buried alive in a mountain of Ditto. Zola lay there on the ground in the entrance hall and let the swarm overtake her, twice as active as they were during feeding time. Duo had been absorbed into the pile, and even Mr. Spike – standing off by the side – had a few brave hangers-on of his own. Somehow, the rescues could tell that their favourite babysitter was leaving them, probably because all of the hustle and bustle of last-minute preparations.

"Mom, help!"

Zara Amari folded her arms, a fond smile on her face, but she didn't make any move towards the pile. "Aw, look, they miss you already," she said unhelpfully. "It'll be so much worse when you're actually gone. Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

Even if her Mom had put on a polite, concerned tone, it was easily recognisable as just one last rehash of the old argument: it's not safe out there and you're needed here. Zola gritted her teeth and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, catching Three-Three and Two-Eight-Nine before they slipped down the back of her sweater. "Alright guys," she said, "Everybody off in three... two... one..."

The countdown had the Ditto stumbling over one another to pool at her boots, and she was careful to shuffle into a space that was otherwise unoccupied. "I love you all very much, and I'll be back before you know it – with gifts! One for each and everyone one of you, how about that?" She glanced up at her Mom while speaking to let her know she wasn't exempt from that statement. Surprisingly, she said nothing in return as Zola picked up her hiking bag and threw it over her shoulders, buckling the straps to distribute the weight.

Duo wriggled forward out of the crowd, impossible to mistake for any other because of its unique motion: alternating between swinging its knubby arms wildly back and forth for forward momentum or rolling forward over its face. She swept it up into her arms, though it would surely want to walk itself the moment it saw another larger pokemon to copy.

Mom stepped forward and helped to untuck her hair from where it was caught. "I added some extra candy. You didn't pack enough. Those are important travel rations when you're on the trail, you know."

"I know. Thanks, mom."

"And you, Spike," she said, crouching down to the eye level of the Cacnea clinging to her trouser leg. "You keep her safe out there, okay?"

Mr. Spike was a Cacnea of few words, but tugged on Zola's sleeve in understanding before hauling itself up onto the top of her backpack.

"I've got to go before I'm late," Zola said apologetically, and her Mom patted her on the shoulder, because going for a hug would disrupt the natural calm around them and prompt another pile-up. As she made it to the garden gate, she turned to wave at the Ditto tsunami her mother was holding back. "I'll send postcards, promise! Love you!"

She didn't stick around to hear the response.

They'd practiced their strategy in the time it took for the others to make arrangements to come home to New Bark Town. Zola had gone on several walks around the village to make sure it wasn't too heavy to carry both of her Pokemon and all of her belongings and found it was just on the edge of bearable. Duo had enough bad experiences of being in enclosed spaces, and Mr. Spike's anxiety shot through the roof whenever he couldn't cling to a trusted person, so she was definitely in favour of keeping them loose outside of Pokemon-Free areas.

As long as they adhered to the buddy system, everything would be fine. There's nothing scary about the outside world, or so she told herself as she approached the entrance to Route 29, where her friends were gathering. Admittedly, though she'd never seen the appeal of The Journey, a hard pit of nervous anticipation was forming in her gut. Whether it was from the dangers of tall grass or the whirling mix of emotions from meeting up with old friends she hadn't seen in years, who could say?

Duo started wriggling as soon as it saw the other Pokemon, and Zola set it down gently on the path. In a few seconds, it half-morphed into a Taillow, shook itself out into a horrifyingly slimy Delibird, and finally settled on a squashed copy of Sam Quinn's shrieking Natu – something it surely had never seen in person before today. "Good morning, everyone. Long time no see," she greeted. Is that a new Pokemon, Sam? She's beautiful."

Intertwined | Pokemon

Zola

_{Z O L A}

There is no such thing as a bad Pokémon.

N A M E

Zola Amari

N I C K N A M E S

N/A

A G E

Eighteen

G E N D E R

Female

A P P E A R A N C E

A tall figure bundled up in too many layers of shawls and cardigans, Zola dresses as if she is either ninety years old or perpetually suffering from the flu, and her slouch isn't helping either angle. She is often seen with both a large hiking backpack and a fannypack which contain all the supplies a travelling trainer might need (and everything else her mother thought she could carry). Most of her gear is home-made or second-hand, scratched up or singed – much like herself, bearing the scrapes and bruises and burns that come with rehabilitating poorly-treated Pokemon.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Zola is a softly-spoken, calming presence who carries with her a dose of tooth-rotting idealism. Politeness is the name of her game, and she believes that if she treats everyone and everything as equals deserving of respect, she will earn their trust – something she applies in interactions with both Pokemon and people, even if sometimes it can come across as silly or even irritating to those who do not share her simplistic worldview. Though she is slow to anger, she has a dislike of certain types of trainer that borders on the obsessive, and she struggles to believe that people can change their ways.

Direct confrontation is not her way, and she uses an excellent 'customer service' persona as a shield of good manners to hide her malicious compliance. There's no need to cause a stink when you can get your revenge in a thousand other little ways, up to and including some misappropriation of one's belongings. Practical methods and a flexible sense of morality get results, or so she says. Other things she might say include 'laws are threats' and 'the police only exist to enforce the status-quo', but her Ditto would never spill the beans.

B I O G R A P H Y

Zola was born in New Bark Town – her father's hometown, where he relocated his wife when they were newlyweds – and for a long time, she believed that she would stay in New Bark Town for the rest of her life. With her expertise as a retired gym leader in Hoenn, her mother ran a daycare and later a rehabilitation centre out of their home, barely able to keep up with the demand from the nearby cities even with grants and charitable donations from local government. Zola naturally assumed the role of part-time worker from a young age, reading nursery rhymes to drooping dittos and trying to explain to her teachers that a houndour really did eat her homework.

As a teenager, Zola did not take a Pokemon from the local professor but rather was given the difficult task of helping a young Cacnea with abandonment issues, her Mr. Spike. Although together they worked through a majority of the anger and frustration with healthy outlets rather than deadly needles aimed at her face, there came a plateau he did not seem to grow out of: a lack of independence that she could not fix while they were both in the comfort zone of the centre.

A recent influx of Pokemon affirmed her decision to leave. Another handful of Dittos anonymously dumped on her doorstep – all numbered rather than named – was in equal parts disheartening and infuriating. Bonding with one of them, whom she affectionally dubbed Duo, strengthened her resolve to see the world outside for its sake. It has an insatiable curiosity for the outside world, and so does Zola. (Mr. Spike not so much, but it will be good for him, she swears.)

P O K E M O N

Pokemon #1

Name: Duo
Species: Ditto
Gender: N/A
Ability: Limber
Personality: An energetic blob of wibble whose inquisitive and too-trusting nature has the tendency to drag it (and Zola) into trouble.

Pokemon #2

Name: Mr. Spike
Species: Cacnea
Gender: Male
Ability: Sand Veil
Personality: A prickly Pokemon who is slow to tolerate new people and things, Spike is both clingy and protective. Ouch!

M O T I V A T I O N S

Zola is distantly aware that some Pokemon are in the possession of criminals who do not treat them as kindly as they should. Worse still, she knows that some normal, law-abiding families do not appreciate their furry friends either, and she's not sure which is worse. She wants to train her skills at handling "problem" Pokemon outside of the controlled environment of her mother's rescue centre, and maybe she'll liberate some along the way. Who can say? All she knows is that there is safety in numbers, and she was taught to never go into tall grass alone.

F A M I L Y

Zara Amari
^{Zola's mother was 100% against her daughter's 'adventure' until it became clear she wouldn't take no for an answer, at which point she could only prepare her for the trials ahead.}
Shunichi Amari
^{A Pokemon rights activist famous for his extremist views on unregulated battling. Zola's father and idol, for all that he is seldom home.}

O T H E R

Colour code is #E8877C.

Intertwined | Pokemon

Zola

_{Z O L A}

There is no such thing as a bad Pokémon.

N A M E

Zola Amari

N I C K N A M E S

N/A

A G E

Eighteen

G E N D E R

Female

A P P E A R A N C E

A tall figure bundled up in too many layers of shawls and cardigans, Zola dresses as if she is either ninety years old or perpetually suffering from the flu, and her slouch isn't helping either angle. She is often seen with both a large hiking backpack and a fannypack which contain all the supplies a travelling trainer might need (and everything else her mother thought she could carry). Most of her gear is home-made or second-hand, scratched up or singed – much like herself, bearing the scrapes and bruises and burns that come with rehabilitating poorly-treated Pokemon.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Zola is a softly-spoken, calming presence who carries with her a dose of tooth-rotting idealism. Politeness is the name of her game, and she believes that if she treats everyone and everything as equals deserving of respect, she will earn their trust – something she applies in interactions with both Pokemon and people, even if sometimes it can come across as silly or even irritating to those who do not share her simplistic worldview. Though she is slow to anger, she has a dislike of certain types of trainer that borders on the obsessive, and she struggles to believe that people can change their ways.

Direct confrontation is not her way, and she uses an excellent 'customer service' persona as a shield of good manners to hide her malicious compliance. There's no need to cause a stink when you can get your revenge in a thousand other little ways, up to and including some misappropriation of one's belongings. Practical methods and a flexible sense of morality get results, or so she says. Other things she might say include 'laws are threats' and 'the police only exist to enforce the status-quo', but her Ditto would never spill the beans.

B I O G R A P H Y

Zola was born in New Bark Town – her father's hometown, where he relocated his wife when they were newlyweds – and for a long time, she believed that she would stay in New Bark Town for the rest of her life. With her expertise as a retired gym leader in Hoenn, her mother ran a daycare and later a rehabilitation centre out of their home, barely able to keep up with the demand from the nearby cities even with grants and charitable donations from local government. Zola naturally assumed the role of part-time worker from a young age, reading nursery rhymes to drooping dittos and trying to explain to her teachers that a houndour really did eat her homework.

As a teenager, Zola did not take a Pokemon from the local professor but rather was given the difficult task of helping a young Cacnea with abandonment issues, her Mr. Spike. Although together they worked through a majority of the anger and frustration with healthy outlets rather than deadly needles aimed at her face, there came a plateau he did not seem to grow out of: a lack of independence that she could not fix while they were both in the comfort zone of the centre.

A recent influx of Pokemon affirmed her decision to leave. Another handful of Dittos anonymously dumped on her doorstep – all numbered rather than named – was in equal parts disheartening and infuriating. Bonding with one of them, whom she affectionally dubbed Duo, strengthened her resolve to see the world outside for its sake. It has an insatiable curiosity for the outside world, and so does Zola. (Mr. Spike not so much, but it will be good for him, she swears.)

P O K E M O N

Pokemon #1

Name: Duo
Species: Ditto
Gender: N/A
Ability: Limber
Personality: An energetic blob of wibble whose inquisitive and too-trusting nature has the tendency to drag it (and Zola) into trouble.

Pokemon #2

Name: Mr. Spike
Species: Cacnea
Gender: Male
Ability: Sand Veil
Personality: A prickly Pokemon who is slow to tolerate new people and things, Spike is both clingy and protective. Ouch!

M O T I V A T I O N S

Zola is distantly aware that some Pokemon are in the possession of criminals who do not treat them as kindly as they should. Worse still, she knows that some normal, law-abiding families do not appreciate their furry friends either, and she's not sure which is worse. She wants to train her skills at handling "problem" Pokemon outside of the controlled environment of her mother's rescue centre, and maybe she'll liberate some along the way. Who can say? All she knows is that there is safety in numbers, and she was taught to never go into tall grass alone.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

Zara Amari
^{Zola's mother was 100% against her daughter's 'adventure' until it became clear she wouldn't take no for an answer, at which point she could only prepare her for the trials ahead.}
Shunichi Amari
^{A Pokemon rights activist famous for his extremist views on unregulated battling. Zola's father and idol, for all that he is seldom home.}

O T H E R

Colour code is #E8877C.

Gritty, Dark Pokemon RP -- A Coming of Age Story!

I'm good for any region - maybe a slight preference for Hoenn or Johto if anything.

(Pokemon-wise, I'm thinking of either a Chingling or a Honedge.)

Gritty, Dark Pokemon RP -- A Coming of Age Story!

Also interested.

Hillhaven : The Fantasy Frontier

---

LOCATION: Ragadel Ranch
WITH: Shamie

---

"Morning, Miss!" Val gave a jaunty salute as she entered the field and tied off the gate again behind her. That was rule one to making sure the horses and the ules stayed where they ought to be: keep everything secured. Nobody had ever said she was a slow learner. (Or, well, they had, but that was when they were teaching oral histories and pretty useless elven sagas, not unicorn care!).

"Yes! It sure is a good one, isn't it? Sorry I'm late. There's a warren of pompadours in my backyard – well, not my backyard, but in the space beside my garden, you know, where the grass is all foof––"

She paused to gesture with her hand against her upper thigh to illustrate the length of the grass but apparently had no need to pause for breath, because she continued, "And I got up early to watch them, but then I realised, they're not going to come out unless I feed them, and if I feed them, then I'm taking on the responsibility of feeding them forever, so I was dwelling on it. I meant to get here by proper dawn."

Just when it might have seemed like she'd ran out of things to say, and was toeing the ground with her thick leather boots, the sawdust burning behind the curtain sparked a flame of remembrance. The crumpled piece of parchment was pulled from the pocket of her duster and pushed towards Shamie. "Oh! And there's something about hosting a festival in town. Human shindig, the Celebration of Stars, but anyone can volunteer 'cause we're one big blendy family here. If they did one for ours last season we must have missed it for the set-up, so... it could be nice if we– I mean, if someone did something to help out with this one."

As if an automaton, Val noticed her employer's current task of feeding the animals and fell into step, picking up where she ought to be helping in her duties: checking on the horses and the ules (never the wild ones), then mucking out the stalls where Losgann was also stabled.

Come to think of it, Val had missed her own birthday, too – completely forgotten in the wake of setting up the ranch and ferrying messages to and fro. Did people even celebrate birthdays out here, or was it just her?

Outpost 9

Interested! Sounds like a cool idea.

Hillhaven : The Fantasy Frontier

---

LOCATION – The Road to Ragadel Ranch

---

Morning is a relative term in Hillside. Some people start when the sun is already high in the sky, some start at the crack of dawn, and some even before that. Valindra Bearfall fell into the third category, rising when the faintest murmur of orange passed over the horizon to wash her face and feed her chickens before work.

More importantly, Val had also taken to watching the pompadours rustling through the wild foliage that bordered her tiny square of cleared garden space. She'd noticed the evidence of nibbled glasses and crushed flowers nine days ago, and she was glad they were doing well even though clearing the weeds had destroyed some of their habitat. Their ears were the only part of them visible, cream and white flags poking up above the brush.

The instinct to throw her boots on and clomp out there to snatch one up, all in the name of running her fingers through the soft fleece was a siren's song, but she was nothing if not strong-willed in the face of such temptation. Though she was a certified horse-wrangler as of a few weeks ago, putting her sparkling new, untested skills to good use capturing those quick balls of sunshine and fluff seemed a few levels above what she was capable of.

Maybe Miss Shamie would let her borrow a carrot or two to chop up for them.

No sooner had she locked up her humble home behind her and started walking towards the edge of town, she heard a voice calling after her from down the way.

"Ms. Bearfall! Ms. Bearfall! Hold up a second. You walk so fast."

A portly human man who worked at least part of the time for the town-hall jogged to catch up with her, a folded piece of paper crumpling in his hand. "Here," he said, shoving it out towards her. "We're trying to get the word around for the Celebration of Stars happening this week. Once you read it, could you run this out to Ragadel Ranch?"

"Sure thing. I'm heading there anyway. You what they say, the early bird catches the worm and picks up another shift."

"Ha. They sure do." Still trying to catch his breath, he gave her a respectful nod of his head. "You're a life-saver. At least, you're saving me from leg cramps."

Once he had departed, she stood in the middle of the thoroughfare, squinting at the letter. Her lips mouthed the words, which were imagined in the mayor's rumbling accent until she realised the woman didn't quite seem like the type to use words like 'celestial' and 'celebratory preparations'. Big words. Val could relate.

People of Hillhaven,

The Celebration of Stars is on the third day of Aburand. It is a day with origins of celestial––

It is a day with origins of celestial worship first adopted by the humans of Astraia. To those who participate––

Yadda, yadda, yadda. Her eyes were growing tired from being all scrunched up to read the writing and darting back and forth across the lines.

The scheduled meeting time is sunrise on the second of Aburand, tomorrow.

P.S - Volunteers will be given extra cheese rations next week!

"Well, why didn't you just start with that?" she asked aloud. "Sold!" Val could trade those in for a quarter wheel of Wyverspoon Tang that would last for weeks, so long as she didn't eat it late at night and get those spooky, spicy cheese dreams her mother often warned her about. Tastes of home were a luxury out here, and she was just waiting for one of the merchants to stock snapdragon candy or the ingredients for hot pepper chocolate.

Val had not ever heard of this Celebration of Stars, but she reckoned it was a taste of home for the humans out here on the frontier. The following day was her (only) day off, so she wouldn't be missed on the ranch, and a little labour for the good of the town was worth a whole bucketload of feel-good, and feel-good was more valuable than gold.

The spring in her step went unchanged as she set off down the long road to Ragadel Ranch.

---