he's galarian, of course [open]

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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oslo

the crown prince

masculine

twenty-eight

may 20

hammerlocke, galar

heterosexual

archaeologist

aqua/ex-admin

my kingdom for a kiss

upon her cold shoulder

6'2" height

born under a bad sign with a blue moon in my eyes

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Remiel Calcifet

he's galarian, of course [open]

POSTED ON Dec 13, 2019 7:55:43 GMT

"Drat and bother!"

The man's cry rang out within the Rustboro City café, drawing the attention of several patrons and baristas. In his late 30's, with haphazardly combed graying hair yet a neatly trimmed beard, the stranger with the accent turned to meet the stares with an incredulous look. "What the devil are you looking at?" Though this was followed by immediate regretfulness as people turned away. "I'm sorry. No, I'm sorry. I'm ruined! Ruined!" He despaired, sinking his face into his hands.

Remiel, who had walked in wearing a grey knitted sweater, white button-up shirt, loafers, and black khaki pants, stood feet away from the man. His own blue-grey eyes had briefly shifted in the stranger's direction. The accent denoted him as Galarian. He should know, considering he had a similar accent himself. Rather than step forward towards the register and make his order, this prompted Remiel act on his curiosity. His arms folded across his chest, he asked, "How so?"

But, at least for a moment, the stranger carried on at his table as if he hadn't heard. "It's a disaster... disaster! 'Work in my accounting department', he said! 'It's the logical course', he said! 'Sod you, daddy', I said, 'I'll come to Hoenn to sell tea!' Now look at me! The old git will have a field day! I'll never—" Interrupted by a realization, the stranger took his face out of his hands and looked up at the young man who had approached him with a question. "Hold on just a minute... are you a countryman of mine? Well, I'll be!" He awed.

Apparently, the realization was enough for him to get up off of his chair and set a hand on Remiel's shoulder. It was easy for any passerby to assume Remiel was being harassed by the man who, with his old brown suit and tie, appeared very much like a pushy salesman. "You see, I'm buggered. My teas, they've been stolen! And now I'm buggered!"

Though his near perpetual calm expression withstood, Remiel shifted his eyes towards the hand on his shoulder. Then back towards the man. The Galarian Meowth that stood by him, on the other hand, quietly growled up at the stranger, who was ever oblivious to both the cat and the silent gesture.

— open
— let's go find some tea

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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Deleted

he's galarian, of course [open]

POSTED ON Dec 14, 2019 1:41:27 GMT

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Hoennian winter's held little bite to Aramis. He had the day off for a fishing trip, hoping at least to clear his mind of any anxieties that his work would bring him for the while. So there he was in his simple jacket and a pair of inconspicious throwaway jeans, casually heading to the nearest bait shop to prepare for the day's activity, when he heard what was distinctly equal parts despair and irritation, though both parts were equally Galarian.

He could just vaguely recognize the accent. Postwick and perhaps mixed with one of the more local tongues, whether it was true or not, it was clear the man was Galarian and needed help. Only to be approached by another, who, judging by his Galarian Meowth, was also native. Whatever the occurrence was, he wanted to stop the issue before it turned into conflict.

"Are you two alright?" Aramis began, feeling his accent slip back into his Galarian accent. While he attempted to maintain his accent's neutrality in Hoenn, he found it immensely comforting to slip back to his regular method of speech.

Remiel Calcifet

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dandy ♫

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played by

oslo

the crown prince

masculine

twenty-eight

may 20

hammerlocke, galar

heterosexual

archaeologist

aqua/ex-admin

my kingdom for a kiss

upon her cold shoulder

6'2" height

born under a bad sign with a blue moon in my eyes

awards

4,748 posts

DOLLARS

part of

TAG WITH @oslo

Remiel Calcifet

he's galarian, of course [open]

POSTED ON Dec 14, 2019 9:27:02 GMT

"I'll be gobsmacked! Another countryman! Here in Hoenn of all places! We'd fit a round table!" The older man expressed in awe, suddenly pivoting towards the table he'd been sitting at prior and puling out some chairs for his fellow Galarian natives. "Please, sit!"

Remiel remained in place, dismissively gesturing with his hand and simply glad the stranger didn't have his own hand placed on his shoulder anymore. Thorgrim, his Galarian Meowth, no longer had the hair at the back of his neck standing on end in aggravation. But it kept its yellow eyes narrowed on the old gentleman. Remiel, in the meantime, acknowledged the man who had stepped forward with a glance. What were the chances?

"A-Ah... well, two's better than one, I always say!" The stranger continued, stepping forward in an attempt to clasp the other man's hand between both of his own before eagerly shaking it. "The name's Niles Dashel. Niles Robert Dashel! Pleasure, yes! Great pleasure!" He insisted, turning his attention to Remiel and attempting to clasp his own hand. When the bearded Meowth snarled and clawed upwards, however, Niles immediately withdrew. "Aha, c-cheeky little critter, eh?" He nervously remarked, holding his hands up to his chest.

"Your teas," Remiel suddenly spoke, trying to get back to the topic at hand. "You said they were stolen? By whom?"

"Ah, yes! Well... I was traveling through Rusturf Tunnel, you see. I'd hired help from a man in Slateport to transport eight crates of the finest Galarian teas. I'd purchased them from an old chum of mine back in Stow-on-the-Side, you see. And, well, I suppose it all went to pot after his truck found itself stuck within a ditch. We were ambushed, you see, by men in black uniforms! And even a woman!"

— tag: @thermopylae

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