[attr="class","sunshine"]The longer this conversation continues the more she struggles to engage. Her leg hurts, she's exhausted from the battle, her head hurts from crying, and she's still only just barely keeping her mouth in check. The last thing she wants to do is list off attacks her Pokemon know.

"Swabbie knows uh . . . Hurricane, water pulse . . . Protect, air slash, 'n' tailwind," she feels like there's one more she was running with the pokemon but she can't remember and doesn't care to, "As far as advantages go? Hurricane 'n' water pulse are stronger in rain."

She finally turns her eyes from the ceiling to Gavin.

"So what? I used them in the rain while it was up. It's why your blizzard didn't do shit."

Her frustration is starting to creep back into her voice. She wishes Gavin would just get to the fucking point.


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[attr="class","sunshine"]Sitting is nice, the cool stone is nicer. She sticks her legs out straight in front of her. Almost thoughtlessly she turns her right leg out until the healed over, but still angry red, slashes on it press against the cold cave floor. It's probably less than sanitary but she doesn't care. She almost groans with relief.

"Yeah, Swabbie makes it rain whenever I send him out ont' the field," she says, leaning back on her arms so she can stare at the ceiling, "What's that got t' do with how ya 'won' though?"

There's no air quotes but the way she says the word 'won' makes it clear she thinks it's a contentious choice at best.


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[attr="class","sunshine"]"I mean ya said it yourself, ya changed the weather back t' hail," Plank replies matter-of-factly, once again biting off more words before they can come.

'Oh yeah, and ya cheated like a fuckin' bastard.'

A second after the thought has passed, more constructive words come.

"I guess your fuckin' r -- your Sandslash vanished. It . . . camouflaged itself or whatever," she only narrowly avoids the more insolent wording, and then has to pause to remember the word she wants. Standing is starting to really hurt, so she makes to sit down once she's done speaking.


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[attr="class","sunshine"]Her teeth snap behind her lips at Gavin's warning. A million rebuttals run through her head one after the other, but in the end she offers only one.

"Fine," Plank says, managing just barely to keep from spitting the word. Her adolescent pride has bitten her more than once today, but still she struggles to hold it back. If she weren't still wincing every time she put weight on her right leg she still might not have.

"I don't know," she starts, a petulant part of her wanting to leave it there but the rational part of her begging her not to, "battle more or somethin'."


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[attr="class","sunshine"]'I might've if you hadn't sicced your fucking rat on me,' Plank thinks privately, face twisting into an angry frown despite her for once making the right call and keeping her mouth shut.

She watches Gavin return said rat with not a small amount of relief before speaking up.

"And? What exactly do ya want me t' do about it?" It's not quite sass, but not exactly the polite tone she should probably be taking with the man who just scarred her for a passing choice of words.


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[attr="class","sunshine"]"That's not what I fuckin' --" Plank grits her teeth and breathes out hard through her nose. Dammit her leg hurts! She's so tense and every time her right thigh twitches it's like she's being torn open all over again. She doesn't bother trying to remember what she was about to say, instead running her right hand up her face and into her hair. It's not until she does this and feels the tears on her face that she finally realizes she's been crying.

"This is just so goddamn . . ." she mumbles to herself, taking the hand out of her hair so she can quickly sweep under her eyes. She sucks in hard through her teeth and tries to shut everything down. Crying was never her intention and now that she realizes she is, has been, she needs to put a stop to it.

With shaking hands she returns her pokemon while Gavin speaks and she struggles to properly collect herself.

"Fuckin' whatever," she mumbles again before raising her voice to properly answer Gavin's question, "Fine, understood."


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[attr="class","sunshine"]The resurfacing of his opponent pulls Swabbie back towards his trainer and newly released ally. It's only thanks to this that anything at all can come between the Lugia's vindictive THUNDER strike and Mama. On reflex the Pelipper throws up a PROTECT hoping to shield itself and the Vaporeon. It only partially succeeds.

Some of the THUNDER is neutralized, sent spinning off into other parts of the cave, but not all of it. The rest crashes audibly through the shield and lances through Swabbie and Mama both. Short cries of pain accompany the smell of singed feathers and burned flesh as the one attack brings both pokemon to their knees. The PARALYSIS it inflicts ensures they will stay there.

"God damn, fuckin'," Plank's eyes widen at the display, but neither of her pokemon are dead. As labored as their breaths may be she can see them breathing. She's not sure she'll be able to say as much for herself as her leg continues to just pour blood. Down her thigh, over her calf, soaking through her sock and shoe on its way to a small pool growing at her right foot.

Not anticipating the move from Gavin, she's halfway through tying the thick string from her shorts tight just a couple inches below where hip meets thigh. She's in the middle of looking for a stray stick or something when the Lucario approaches her. At first she makes to shove it away, a fiery, frantic look in her eyes, but the HEAL PULSE cuts her off before hands can meet fur. As the wound knits itself closed she undoes the incomplete tourniquet.

The twin wounds where large slabs of her flesh were carved away still hurt like hell, will obviously scar, but at least she won't bleed to death now.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," she pants the words, top lip pulled back in an angry snarl as she looks towards Gavin, "When a Houndour pisses in the corner ya don't beat it an hour after its forgotten what the fuck it did!"

Her voice is shrill and cracks around the edges. She hasn't realized it yet but she's crying. Silent, furious tears trail from the corners of her eyes and down to her chin. Adrenaline and anger and probably a bit of shock keep her from considering how much more trouble she can get into speaking out of turn right now.


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[attr="class","sunshine"]"Blow 'im right back int' Motostoke town," Plank continues singing, eyes scanning the scattering snow as Swabbie continues his barrage of AIR SLASHES. The HAIL is no less a storm than the rain had been; and the dust and other detritus their large attacks had kicked up make it a more than effective smokescreen for their opponent.

"Gimme some time t' --" she's just beginning to think it's about time to sing a different tune, to switch up their tactics, when the sound of cracking earth to her right draws her eyes down. There's barely time to twitch before METAL CLAWS bury themselves in the meat of her thigh. They slip in under skin and flesh, bulge out momentarily, and then tear their way back out.

"Son of a --" Plank chokes out, her throat tightening and her teeth clenching to physically block the path of a scream. Like a depth charge it goes off in her throat. Rough, strangled, painful. Her teeth grind together so hard her gums ache. She's almost positive she sheared the sides of her tongue when they snapped together.

One of her hands clutches at the flesh just above the now openly weeping wounds while the other reaches into a pocket. In a flash of white her Vaporeon emerges, and the moment she sees Plank's paling face and drenched leg a dangerous snarl rips through her throat.

"Mama, get that fucker off me!" she shouts, undoing the drawstring of her shorts and pulling the string right through.

The Vaporeon fires off a WATER PULSE at the Sandslash to try and push it back, placing herself firmly between Plank and her assailant the moment after. Behind her Plank trembles, struggling to stay up. Her face a twisted mask of pain and her jaw so tight the muscles press their indents into her skin.

[attr="class","sunshine"]The submarine doesn't have much to offer Plank. The bunk allotted to her by means of her membership is too cramped and foreign for her to relax within it, the submarine itself too intimate and full of people, but the training facilities are nice. A clean, enclosed space to workout in is something new to her and she took to utilizing it quickly upon discovering it.

Today she'd come to run. It felt like running was all she did lately. If she were the poetic sort she might tag on something frilly like "in more ways than one" to the end of that statement, but she's not. In the most literal sense running (and other exercises) were filling her days end to end lately. Emotions with no clear way out could find relief in the serenity, the flow, that came with a good workout. The ache that followed.

The problem is that sometimes Plank chooses to chase this flow at times when others want to use the space (or at least the spaces nearby). This is the situation today, when her focus on one leg after the other, breathe in-2-3 breathe out-2-3, is broken by an odd and unfamiliar racket. A sharp sound. Like gears grinding in an engine, but shorter. Quicker. More shrill. She might have been able to ignore it if she knew what it was, but curiosity plus noise makes for a distraction too potent to tune out.

So instead she goes looking for it. Maybe it'll make for a good substitute once she tracks it down.

Given a couple minutes of searching she finds the room where the sound is at its loudest, and without preamble slides the door open before shuffling in. One hand in the pocket of her basketball shorts while the other tugs at her sweat-slick tank-top in a short, staccato rhythm.

"It sounds like a klinklang orgy in here. What the fuck are ya doin'?"

As she asks the question she sweeps her eyes over the space. Takes in the stranger standing with sword in hand and the Bisharp posturing in the center of the room. She thinks silently that she's probably already got her answer.

[attr="class","sunshine"]Wind and rain and flecks of ice come together and then fly apart where the attacks meet. Most of their force is focused on one another, but the runoff blows out all around. Cool air and a fine mist blast passed Plank with enough force that she must shade her eyes to keep them open.

She's riding the high of the action until the weather changes. Rainclouds grow darker and the temperature drops as the DRIZZLE Swabbie inspired is replaced with familiar HAIL. The chill sobers her up a bit. She doesn't bother to answer Gavin's question, she trusts he doesn't want her words anyway.

"That TAILWIND is about spent, let's put it t' use!" she shouts before clapping her hands several times -- a sharp, crisp sound that makes sure Pelipper's ears are on her. The pace is brisk as she dives into the chorus.

"Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!" she shouts as much as sings, "Wey, hey, blow the man down!"

Swabbie pulls to the perimeter of the storm, riding the dying TAILWIND for all its worth, before diving around the edge and flapping his wings at the center. AIR SLASHES rain down as he moves. They're firing blind, but maybe one of the slices can at least part the snow enough to reveal their quarry.

[attr="class","sunshine"]The WATER PULSE lands and Plank feels another surge of pride in her gut. However momentary it is, she's winning! Now would be a good time to take a second, maybe. To listen, to carefully utilize her lead. These are not things Plank considers. The familiar whistle from Gavin is lost under the sound of her own voice.

All she knows how to do with a lead is push it. Push it hard until it breaks.

"If ya buy me a drink then I'll sing ya a song!" her voice carries on without pause and so the Pelipper rears back for another attack, "Gimme some time t' blow the man down!"

Swabbie beats his wings so hard their flapping grows audible. Wind builds in the space between them as the Sandslash's BLIZZARD surges across the battlefield. The wind swirls and howls, emboldened by the downpour, before rushing to meet the wave of ice and snow. The BLIZZARD crashes against a mighty HURRICANE.

[attr="class","sunshine"]Satisfaction and irritation mingle almost equally at Gavin's backhanded praise. First it's her pokemon don't listen well enough, then it's 'good job' but 'ah you'd be better off making hand signals like a knockoff Mr. Mime'. Well, if he didn't like the first command he's gonna hate how she gives the second one.

Plank does her best to soak in the battlefield and stay focused on her pokemon -- a feat made a bit complicated by the way the fucking monster in the background can't see fit to stay still. As far as she's concerned its constant shifting is on par with a fickle infant who can't keep from squirming. She jumps back slightly as its tail sweeps much too close for her comfort before taking in the state of affairs in front of her.

For the first time since this battle began a smirk pushes at the corner of her lips. The TAILWIND is working just as intended, and she watches with pride as Swabbie uses it to effortlessly glide around the Sandslash's METAL CLAW.

"I'm a deep water sailor from Vermillion," she sings the shanty loud and clear, her voice pretty but rough, and the Pelipper instantly dips to get in beside the Sandslash, "Wey, hey, blow the man down!"

A WATER PULSE builds in its gullet before bursting forth, already powerful but gaining considerable size and strength from the rain that clings to it as it makes way for Swabbie's momentarily outmaneuvered opponent.