Post by elias orion on Jan 18, 2019 7:45:10 GMT
|[attr="class","gabrielpost"]publicists are just so up themselves. he'd had to fly out to bumfuck nowhere oldpeoplesville because this particular publicist couldn't fly. well, nancy, ever heard of a taurus? or a train? or a car?|
and, by the powers that be, his flight had been delayed. well, elias, you may start to ask, don't you have a giant dragon you can fly on? yes! he does! he very much does. but considering the fact that the bat hasn't spoken to him since their debacle of a mission a couple of days ago, he hasn't been able to hitch a ride since.
this is not the first time this has happened. elias (and his agent) have gotten used to the noivern's finicky nature. but the fans adore him.
and elias, though he'd never admit it, loves the creature with all his heart.
now normally he'd sit himself up in his five star hotel and enjoy the warmth while sipping on a winter martini, but he'd accidentally made the mistake of looking outside his window (of which was situated in the building that shared the lavaridge hot springs) and had caught sight of an image that is going to surely give him nightmares for years to come.
so. many. wrinkles.
so he's here now, in fashionable boots that cost far too much to be sloshing about in the ashy dirt, and a coat that's far too sheer to actually be useful. and he's absafuckinglutely miserable. but pride stops him from turning back.
he touches the pokeball kept on a keychain on his phone, but then sniffs and pockets both. he squares his shoulders and continues his nature walk.
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