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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2022 11:31:23 GMT

It had been some time since he’d gone back to the spot where the Stray used to stand.

As it was, the place was still standing—but there were still a few more things he hadn’t retrieved yet. When the place was being prepared to be rented out, whoever had gotten their hands on the place had somehow managed to contact Lars—seeing as he was placed as the owner’s other contact just in case shit happened to the person in question.

(Which, of course, was evan fader, but well that was a story for another day.)

So here he was, picking up the last of the things that were left behind in the Stray’s ground floor. The last he was absolutely sure that he’d seen the other was during the Hoenn Historia where they were tumbling seemingly through space…

Who knew if the other man had gotten left behind there?

A chill ran up his spine. That was… a cold, sobering thought.

clearing out shit that belongs to someone presumed dead

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TAG WITH @cian

POSTED ON Oct 5, 2022 14:19:32 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","selfinsert"]

[attr="class","top"]

as though fate would will it, cian finds himself at the stray to do the exact same thing.[break][break]

he had lost a friend during the war and never felt comfortable enough to clear out their things. but with another war looming in the near distance, he figures there's no better time.[break][break]

"head ranger anderson?"[break][break]

his surprise is evident as he walks in.[break][break]

"you, uh, need a hand?"

[attr="class","ooc"]Laurence Anderson[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-castform"]

[newclass=".selfinsert"]--accent:#cbb898; [/newclass]

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[newclass=".selfinsert .ooc a"]font:bold 15px 'Poppins';[/newclass]

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Lars

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thirty-two

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Sootopolis, Hoenn

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POSTED ON Oct 8, 2022 13:37:01 GMT

He couldn’t help but think about that wack-ass sojourn through what he thought was ‘space’, or was it ‘time’, exactly?

The deep roaring that had emerged from somewhere only to chase everyone who’d been caught in the slipstream down before returning them all to the ‘current time’ was… Hoenn Historia still gave him the fucking creeps, even to this day.

What if some of them never made the return journey home?

A chilling possibility.

He was about to grab another box full of books when an unfamiliar voice interrupted his thoughts—

“Oh. Hi there,” he began quietly, his eyes straying over to the box that held the small number of his missing partner’s things.

“You knew the crowd that used to run here when the place was still open?”

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TAG WITH @cian

POSTED ON Oct 9, 2022 8:47:08 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","selfinsert"]

[attr="class","top"]

despite being in the minor league, his interactions with some of the notable league figures have been minimal at best, partly by choice as he didn't want to draw unwanted attention to him.[break][break]

but now, he finds that he has a lot to make up for. guess he'll start with one of the head rangers.[break][break]

"i didn't, sadly. i'm just here to pick up some stuff."[break][break]

he smiles, lifting the empty box that has a painting of many grass-types on it.[break][break]

"did you?"

[attr="class","ooc"]Laurence Anderson[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-castform"]

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Lars

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thirty-two

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POSTED ON Oct 15, 2022 20:20:28 GMT

His gaze wandered over to the other box he hadn’t grabbed yet—this one full of bric-a-brac and a sketchbook… a very particular sketchbook whose contents he was all too familiar with.

(It happened after that night, and while there were no Ultra Beasts around the time the Nightmare™ happened, what went down during that time was sufficient nightmare fuel for everyone involved, himself included.)

“I knew the owner. He… he was someone very close to my heart,” he continued quietly as he reached over to take the sketchbook and take another look at it.

He knew that evan fader had gathered up all those drawings of the Nightmare Fuel™ that had happened—the one that involved… that was a fucking mess, really.

And then he remembered that he’d died in that nightmare… bad times.

“Thing is, it’s been what, close to three years now? With no word from him?” he went on.

“I don’t want to presume, but you know how things go, if someone’s gone missing for an extended period of time…”

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POSTED ON Oct 17, 2022 16:16:49 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","selfinsert"]

[attr="class","top"]

"...yeah."[break][break]

what else could cian say besides that? the owner has likely passed because three years is a long time. but he doesn't want to stomp on the head ranger's heart even more so he offers kind words.[break][break]

"i mean, i guess it's possible they just went off the grid and decided to live a new life? hoenn's crazy like that."[break][break]

a pause, then he asks:[break][break]

"what was their name?"

[attr="class","ooc"]Laurence Anderson[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-castform"]

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Lars

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POSTED ON Oct 21, 2022 19:54:30 GMT

“I doubt he’d go off-grid without telling anyone about the Stray, at least,” he continued as he flipped through the gathered drawings.

Once upon a time, he remembered stumbling into the Stray past three in the fucking morning, only to see every single surface available scattered and strewn with papers, all of those papers having sketches of the supernatural nightmare fuel™ that they’d collectively experienced tossed about.

He then came to a stop on one particular page—realizing that it wasn’t his partner’s drawing but his own measly interpretation of what he now knew to be Celebi.

“Evan. evan fader.”

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POSTED ON Oct 25, 2022 9:18:14 GMT

[nospaces]

[attr="class","selfinsert"]

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evan fader. a name cian has not heard of but it's one he will remember if only for the head ranger's sake.[break][break]

"i'll ask around my network, but..."[break][break]

it looks grim.[break][break]

"sorry, man."

[attr="class","ooc"]Laurence Anderson[break]

[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-castform"]

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Lars

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POSTED ON Oct 26, 2022 4:54:34 GMT

“Pray you never lose someone close to you.”

Not a warning, but something he thought was worth passing on.

Much like how fleeting the crystalblooms were, having appeared in full force but suddenly becoming scarce, almost non-existent after a certain time…

“Whoever it is, that you care for, I may not know, but. I hope what happened to me doesn’t happen to you.”

He then closed the sketchbook and returned it to the box of belongings which he picked up. Other than this box, everything else had already been sold to pay for the overdue rent that had been left to default for several years. Shame, really, he wasn’t able to get his hands on some of the tequila…

“Th-thanks. For… listening to me.”

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