your mighty wings ● rory

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] Zach was not a nostalgic person to say the very least. He didn't allow himself to dwell on the past unless absolutely necessary in the task at hand. His own personal history had nothing to give him when he looked back on it, so he really saw no point in reminding himself of days long gone. So it was strange, to say the least, when he found himself staring at his Pokemon as they spun and glided through the air like the masters they were. Staring and remembering when they spun and glided in order to attack or get away from the attack of an opponent. After taking over his aunt's job as professor after her death, he hadn't the time to train or battle with his partners anymore. They became almost the equivalent of pets when he settled down, something pretty to look at and fun to take care of, but things that would be almost foolish to train. They, themselves had been a bit antsy at first, confused as to why their aggressive training schedule had been stripped from them, but, in time, they all settled in along side him. Really, there had never been a major issue. So why was it bothering him then? "Ventus," he called to the Altaria, easily capturing her attention away from fooling around with Wiatr. "Dragon Dance." However, the two words that would instantly set it into motion as it carried out the stat raising move only invoked confusion in the duel-type. She stared at him for a few moments longer, questions swimming around in her beady black eyes, but the professor had already dropped his head and turned away. Battling had always filled him with such a thrill back then. And he was good at it, too; easily one of the best out of the trainers he'd met, especially considering his limit to one type - flying - and an Eevee. Maybe he'd been lucky to have suppressed the urge to fight for so long. Maybe he was lucky that he hadn't been craving a sparing partner sooner than now. ...Maybe he needed a nap.

The weather was pleasant as Rory wandered, his Teddiursa clinging to his shoulders. His other companions were resting in their respective balls, hooked onto his belt. He got lonely as he walked sometimes; it was nice to have company.

This area was peaceful and quiet, and the climate seemed to be agreeable most of the time. Maybe he would stay a while. There weren't many wild pokemon waiting to jump out at him, it seemed, though on occasion he heard the sounds of the local fauna. Places like this sometimes reminded him of home, and made his stomach ache a little, but the feeling quickly passed. Most of the time. His pace was leisurely, taking in the scenery. A shadow overhead alerted him to a group of flying pokemon playing with one another overhead. They weren't the usual pidgeys and such that flocked in the area, rather, they all seemed to be well-trained, given much care. Despite their usually threatening appearance, each seemed to be enjoying the weather just as much as Rory was.

He brought his eyes back to the ground to look for the trainer, and spotted the young man almost immediately. He seemed to be serious, and Rory's elder by at least a few years. The dark sunglasses made it difficult to tell if the breeder had been noticed by the other.

"Dragon Dance."

Rory started as the other man spoke, obviously giving a battle command to one of his (frankly awe-inspiring) team members. Had he made eye contact? Were they battling now? Generally the custom was to exchange a few words before battle, not that Rory participated often. It was traditional that eye contact meant a challenge, though, if both were trainers.

Rory wasn't much of a trainer, though.

He was frozen in place, but slowly realized that the Alteria was not carrying out the command. He still stayed still, a little shaken. He didn't want to fight anyone, especially not someone who seemed as skilled as this.

Pupa Pan made an inquiring squeak in his ear. Rory absentmindedly petted his head, and he made a contented sound, forgetting about his friend's moment of stiff fear.

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[atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/fhhLa84.png] It took some distracting - a lot of it, actually - to manage to tear his mind away from the prospect of battling after so long, but in the end, it finally worked. ... For a bit, anyway. He hadn't really notice the weather that morning. Obviously, it was nice enough that he wasn't freezing to death in nothing by dark jeans and his typical t-shirt, but he'd been to distracted letting his Pocket Monsters out and into the fresh air, then something else he wasn't going ot let his mind travel to again after he'd finally managed to tear himself away from it to really notice what sort of crud Mother Nature was throwing his way that particular day. Not that there was really all that much to marvel at. The sky was clear. The breeze was so slight you could swear it wasn't even there. It was a bit warmer than it usually got around Vardent Town, but it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. It just meant he'd have to make sure to turn the air conditioner on should it get any warmer throughout the span of the day. The birds were singing - not his own, of course, for the flying-types around Aria Village never made any noise over a battle cry, which would sound so awesome right about now and he was not thinking about that again - and the buzz of insects was nothing more than white noise in the background. Basically the same as every other boring day of his life, unless whatever weather Pokemon up there decided to spice it up with a bit of clouds. Like he'd never seen those before. With nothing more to oogle at in the weather department, Zach suddenly found his sunglasses to be the most interesting thing in the world, removing them from his face and checking for any possible smudge or dirt marks that much have accumulated over time. He found none. Did sunglasses even smear? He would have assumed so, but these never had. Of course, his aunt had gotten this particular pair for him and everything she'd touched seemed to be mind blowing in one way or another. Maybe these were super glasses or something. ... Maybe he seriously needed a nap. Now that he thought about it, he was a little tired. He'd just rest his eyes for a bit inside, then feed the Pokemon, then waste the rest of the day doing what a good professor did. ... So basically playing video games until his thumb cramped up or it was five in the morning and he had to be pulled from reality. He wasn't even going to put his shades back on - after all, he'd just turn around and take them right back off if he was going to sleep - when something caught his attention and they were snapped right back onto the bridge of his nose before a soul could see what hid behind them. A young man - darker skinned than his own ghostly pale complexion and with a mohawk of sorts colored a chocolately brown - was standing there, watching him, a Teddiursa clinging to his shoulder like his life depended on it. It was a little shameful to admit that the first thing he thought when making eye contact was "battle me". I mean, sure, every other trainer these days seemed to think it, but he wasn't a trainer anymore, was he? Regardless, the stranger looked absolutely shaken up about something or another. Couldn't possibly fathom why. What, were the flying-types too much to handle without shaking like a leaf in the wind? Just that had a minescule smirk, small enough that only the trained eye could see pulling at one corner of his mouth. Heck yeah he had the best team in team. If anything, they were too good. Just another reason why he'd had to put his battling days to an abrupt halt. It was all fun and games, of course, bragging about his own skill in his mind until he realized that: Holy Miltank, this guy looks about ready to pee his pants. And exaggeration, really. They weren't that shaken. But enough that he decided to play it cool and hope not to worry him further. Of course. When did he ever not play it cool? "Yo," he offered, shoving a hand in his pocket and raising the other in the air as a sort of half hearted wave. "You need something from me? You could've just asked; don't need to stand there all day." Another trainer come for a Pokemon, maybe? Nah, he already had one accompanying him. Maybe he wanted to help with research? ... Laughable. No one wanted to help him with research. Just wanting battle tips? Probably. That, or his mind still wouldn't unwravel itself from around the idea of beating the crud out of another trainer like old times. Whatever it was, he waited with carefully guarded impatience. Mr. Hazel had a bed that was calling his name, after all, and it wouldn't wait all day. 871 words.