posted Apr 20, 2020 1:52:37 GMT
ALEXANDER STONE likes this
a siren's call draws her to the shores of dewford. the allure of a mural in a cave, full of knowledge she has yet to tap into. it's unable to be ignored, too loud, too enticing to go unnoticed. of course, a moment spent in a virtual hot spring planted the beginnings of the trip in her mind but actually going had been a different story. it took some time, some effort, and some missed work for her to make it. and now, here she is, dark hair billowing in the ocean's breeze as she stares at the opening of the cavern itself.
fate, destiny, whatever you would like to call it, has a funny way of throwing obstacles in your path, however.
she doesn't venture into the cave just yet. no, something else requires her immediate attention and that comes in the form of a large mass washing ashore. a beached wailord... it sends her into an immediate panic with just a glance at the poor thing. how long can it survive outside of the depths of the ocean? is it in pain? oh god, how can she even handle this? sure, she has some muscle on her team in the form of her discolored golurk but he's resting in his pokeball and the little shieldon in her arms isn't equipped to handle such a giant pokemon.
as if sensing her turmoil, the shieldon in question coos at her. curious eyes travel up toward her face and she's glancing down at nugget with a frown. "what should we do?" the shieldon tilts his head at her and a sigh escapes the woman a moment later. "we can't just leave it there..." it's spoken more to herself than nugget but he coos back anyway, the attempt at being comforting going a long way in the end. the coo drives her to make up her mind, to settle upon a course of action and follow through with it.
and so, she finds herself wandering away from the wailord in search of help, her flipflops in one hand and nugget balanced in one arm. the sand feels nice between her toes and if she wasn't desperate in this moment, she could almost enjoy it. ah, but she can't and she's walking the beach for a purpose. the walk is short, however, as she stumbles upon a man who seems unoccupied. perhaps he'll help... no, no perhaps. he has to. she has to believe that he will. "excuse me?" she calls in an attempt to capture his attention. "are you busy?" the question lasts in the air for a minute before she's suddenly rambling, struggling to find the right words to convey how urgent this is. "there's, um, a wailord that seems to have beached and i can't get it back into the water by myself. could -- would you help me? i'm sorry to ask but you're the first person i've found. i don't know how much longer it'll be able to stay there."
the taste of panic lingers in her mouth and it's far too familiar for her liking. it's funny, it almost tastes like iron, heavy and metallic and dyed red.