Post by Will Ryan on Aug 28, 2014 23:35:55 GMT -6
It is raining. The clouds wept overhead, thick and agitated from the uncommon activity, but unable to stop themselves as it was long overdue. A heavy, humid rain that mingles with the sweat instead of washing it away, but still manages to lower the temperature into something more comfortable than the sticky heat of full day even if it is just by a small margin. Even so, the sun persistently kept watch through their midst. Will sat by idly underneath a supple tree with drooping branches, aware yet distant, with the many pools of water stretching out in front of him. His track top had long been discarded to the side in a crumpled heap next to his duffel bag leaving his white undershirt to cling to him. A lone cigarette hung from his lips, burning brightly and unhindered by the water due to the wide leaves overhead.
With an aggravated sigh, Will combed his hand through the few locks of red that had decided to fall over his eyes again. All he had to do was release one pokemon and he could disappear again. With nothing more than the rucksack at his side and the pokemon on his belt, he could survive. The tunnels were always good for when he didn't want to see anything or anyone. And there were plenty of unmarked areas that just stretched in between cities. And there was always the chance that he'd find something new or reach a new level. He wouldn't have to see anyone. But what had that gotten him last time? Sure, his pokemon were powerful, titans amongst their species, but what good was that when he had nothing to apply them to.
Gyms were great, but recently it was more of a show than a competition. There was no substance to it like he had seen in his childhood. Or maybe he had just cast off all the illusions that childhood had to offer. Breeding was a passion and so was the study of pokemon, but he had no resources and no wish to settle. Staying in one place for too long was uncomfortable. He'd always get tense and restless. Too loud, too crowded, and always something or someone lurking. His chances of becoming a murder on accident exceeded the chance of him adjusting before the former happened. Added to that was the fact that people wanted specifics when it came to breeding even if it was a bad choice and that was something that he despised. Weakness. Why torture the creature that was going to hatch? Just because two pokemon had good pelts didn't mean they bred effectively.
Will wouldn't lie, coordinators really pissed him off without even trying.
So the young man sat and he thought, then thought some more, and finally dreamed with his eyes open. Aware, but distant. Dreams made of people, pokemon, and places. Dreams of things that once was and things that could be. And while his eyes gazed into the distance he was tormented by those dreams. All while his cigarette slowly burnt down with each successive drag.
With an aggravated sigh, Will combed his hand through the few locks of red that had decided to fall over his eyes again. All he had to do was release one pokemon and he could disappear again. With nothing more than the rucksack at his side and the pokemon on his belt, he could survive. The tunnels were always good for when he didn't want to see anything or anyone. And there were plenty of unmarked areas that just stretched in between cities. And there was always the chance that he'd find something new or reach a new level. He wouldn't have to see anyone. But what had that gotten him last time? Sure, his pokemon were powerful, titans amongst their species, but what good was that when he had nothing to apply them to.
Gyms were great, but recently it was more of a show than a competition. There was no substance to it like he had seen in his childhood. Or maybe he had just cast off all the illusions that childhood had to offer. Breeding was a passion and so was the study of pokemon, but he had no resources and no wish to settle. Staying in one place for too long was uncomfortable. He'd always get tense and restless. Too loud, too crowded, and always something or someone lurking. His chances of becoming a murder on accident exceeded the chance of him adjusting before the former happened. Added to that was the fact that people wanted specifics when it came to breeding even if it was a bad choice and that was something that he despised. Weakness. Why torture the creature that was going to hatch? Just because two pokemon had good pelts didn't mean they bred effectively.
Will wouldn't lie, coordinators really pissed him off without even trying.
So the young man sat and he thought, then thought some more, and finally dreamed with his eyes open. Aware, but distant. Dreams made of people, pokemon, and places. Dreams of things that once was and things that could be. And while his eyes gazed into the distance he was tormented by those dreams. All while his cigarette slowly burnt down with each successive drag.