“I hope so.” Lydia murmured in response to Symon’s assertion. Though logical in many avenues, her superstition knew no bounds. Hearing voices on the wind rarely boded well. Then again, such things could be divine advice filtered through this virtual hourglass. “Though I would listen closely.” Sometimes even enemies and spirits gave good advice.


Symon’s water bottle, as silly as it was, received a nod of approval. The presence of water types would at least stave off the allure of mirages and false sanctuaries.


The girl—Hailee—seemed out of sorts. Blue eyes narrowed as the ex-military member dropped a hand to where her gun normally rested, as if she could shoot away the terror.


Lydia wished to console the panicked sister but such things had never been her strong suit. Her tendency to emotional constipation made hers a hard shoulder to cry on. In situations like this, pointing out practical things—such as their possession of both shelter and water—rarely had its intended effect. Fortunately, before she felt obliged to step in, the woman’s companion did it for her. A sibling or cousin, perhaps? “We already have a plan for shelter and water. Now, we just need—”


Well, it was certainly not giant predatory worms. As the other three ran for the ruins, Lydia found herself reaching a point of calm. This was what she’d trained for. An urge to protect those around her quickly allowed her to craft a plan. If she could not stop these creatures, unlikely, there were things she could do to slow them down. It was no different than stringing trenches and artillery with razor wire.


With a deep breath, Lydia turned to her Pokemon. “Poseidon.” The Seadra turned to its partner. “Flood the sand.” Her eyes then turned to Minerva. “Put some stones in their way.” As for Heimdall, he would be of little use in this situation. So, ignoring his preparation to fight, his trainer scooped him into his arms.


“Follow me as soon as you are done.” The two Pokemon nodded. A great jet of water erupted from the Seadra’s mouth as he dampened the sand in front of him. It sucked up the water, solidifying like concrete in some areas. Right on his figurative tail, the Lycanroc unleashed a Stealth Rock. The floating shards prevented the creatures from cresting the sand without risk.


One stone dropped to the sand, just in time to be snapped up by one of the short-sighted insects.“Minerva, fire one stone towards the twister.” The canid did that, her trainer watching as the creatures diverted toward its landing point. The woman's lips pursed in thought.


With that done, Lydia raced towards the ruins. Her Pokemon followed a few steps behind. The world began to heave beneath her like a bucking bronco as the worms resumed their course. Lydia shouted over the maelstrom as she slipped on the first block of black marble.

TLDR:

• Used Hydro Pump to solidify sand
• Stealth rock made her hypothesize vibrations are involved
• Slid her way onto the black marble

When Walter arrived, the blonde woman was standing at attention. Blue eyes quickly evaluated him, noticing the musculature hidden beneath his clothing. The fact that he was taller than her meant little; almost everyone was. She was often still offered children’s meals at local restaurants. Her outfit was a well-cut women’s suit with a dipped waist and lacy throat flourish. The shoes were equal parts practical and fashionable. No makeup was apparent, though she’d applied a bit of gloss and a small amount of foundation. Her typically wavy hair was piled up in an austere bun.

The only apparent show of vanity came in the shine of silver earrings and a mysteriously heavy chain. The end of the latter vanished beneath her undershirt, the pendants at its end resting near her heart.

With her injuries now mere memories, Lydia finally confronted her restlessness head-on. Though, perhaps, not, in the same way, she confronted wild Pokemon or the once supplexed Tyrunt. Without the structure of the military to guide her, the woman had felt like a rudderless boat adrift at sea. The structure had been replaced with a Tarantoula’s web of paths with no guideposts other than her own heart. But there was reluctance in jumping from military service into more public service.

Keeping a yard or so behind the served, Lydia walked with her fingers laced behind her back. Icy eyes jumped from reptilian shape to reptilian shape as they navigated the garden. Each dragon was gifted a deferential nod as she passed. Though she once imagined herself as a knightly dragon slaver, the blonde woman held great respect for these creatures. Though, the foolhardy Dragonite was met with a raised brow and flattened lips. "Hm." That type of showboating was quite undignified.

When the old man spoke, Ldia turned towards him. Her chin lifted slightly to indicate her attentiveness. After a moment of (faux) thought, she spoke. “I thank you for the words of caution.” She paused a moment. “He sounds like an interesting young man, if a bit foolhardy. I will admit the...beef with Lord Palkia is particularly interesting.” Many of her families subscribed to their own (distasteful) brand of vigilantism. “But, I believe tempering that behavior is part of the job. And one I am familiar with.” Both of her families had a unique brand of foolhardiness.

“If he wanted something to merely take bullets—” Here the woman paused. She resisted an urge to touch a disguised scar on her cheek. A stark reminder of how short life was, an endless game of chance. “--he would be better off with a bulletproof vest.”

The talk of rifts did not frighten her. Perhaps that is why she was the first child to volunteer to accompany her father to Petalburg. He needed help with a delivery and anniversary plan. These things were better than twiddling her thumbs and waiting on a resume bite. It made her feel useful. With work completed slightly ahead of schedule, the veteran returned to her room for a quick change of clothes. The t-shirt was swapped out for a patterned sports bra. The pants, meanwhile, were swapped for a pair of matching athletic leggings. In the gap between, well-toned abs rippled.

With the transformation complete, the blonde made her way to a nearby park. Her Riolu and Lycanroc ran beside her, savoring the sunshine and warmth. A small bag was thrown across her back. In it were a few protein bars, two bottles of water, a large thing of sunscreen, and a compass. On its straps, her Pokeballs were slotted in like ammo on a bandolier. A military knife was stuffed into its top compartment. Obviously, Lydia was the type who preferred to not need something and have it than the inverse. “Come on.”

The walking path rippled in front of her. Then, there was a moment of deafening nothing. A mosquito-larvae-filled pond in the rhythm of beating feet and heavy breathing. As met sand, the blonde let her body relax. This allowed her to roll forward into the impact, allowing much of it to dissipate. Minerva, ever cold and watchful, landed with a similar blend of grace and aplomb. The Riolu, unfortunately, sunk face-first into a dune like a lead weight.

“I am fine, thank you.” Lydia offhandedly murmured to Symon.

Blue eyes observed the areas before her. Sand as far as the eye could see and large obelisks crafted by someone hand. Though, unlike others, she did not assume them to be made by man. Pokemon could do the same. Her lips pursed slightly as she finished her initial observations. A hand tugged the Riolu from the sand as she glanced up at Symon. A tawny brow raised. “I did not. Did you hurt yourself in the fall?” Her eyes then moved to the other two women, a lioness’s protective instinct raising within her.

She slid her gaze to the tracks before them. Her lips pressed tighter together. “Following animals in disaster can keep you out of the storm. I would not be so quick to disregard figurative breadcrumbs They do not seem dangerously recent.” At the sight of the sandstorm—larger than anything she’d seen here or abroad, Lydia felt her stomach drop. That sentiment was one she agreed with.

At the question of water, she reached inside her sack. From it, she withdrew two bottles of water. “I have these.” A third Pokeball was opened beside her. From its depths, a Seadra emerged. She looked at him, waiting for the water type’s agreement. He nodded. “Poseidon can refill them when necessary.” Her eyes turned towards the obelisks.

“We should head toward the ruins. We may be able to take shelter from the storm.” Even a rickety rowboat in the ocean eased tired limbs.

As a child, she’d experienced the chill of the abyss. Death laid its veil upon her as her lungs screamed. During combat, a combatant’s brain had taken the place of the blush on her cheeks. Through all of this, she trusted Arceus and his beloved companions to protect her. Lord Lugia would keep her head above the waves. The young Keldeo would bolster her courage in the direst of situations. She could not be afraid. It was her job to lead and maintain order.

Her hand tightened around the amulet until it hurt.

Apparently, this is late because she hates gambling.

One moment, she was dozing fitfully against the side of the Corviknight Taxi.



A bright sun warmed her face and her black top. The slight breeze pulled at her hair like the hands of a needy goblin. The work she’d put into a smooth coifure now seemed completely wasted. A politician’s autobiography lap open in her lap, the remnants of repeated dog-earring visible. A Riolu was settled. All in all, this trip was relatively peaceful.



Until, suddenly, it wasn’t. First, came a sound almost like a gong. It reverberated through the basket and the cables holding it to its carrier. Blue eyes blinked awake, the book and pup tumbling to the bottom of the basket with a thump. A heavy rock dropped between her feet and those of her next passenger. The Corviknight above screeched. Then, they were falling. “!?” The pilot shouted an order at his steel raven as the blonde clung desperately to the rim of the basket.



A hand reached for a non-existent parachute. The ground approached. Lydia said a prayer to Lord Arceus and closed her eyes. Suddenly, the basket was jerked upward. In pain and crippled, the Corviknight had regained his perch. “Nngh.” Her body stiffened as it swung. Only quick reflexes stopped Heimdall from flying into the ether.



Slowed greatly, the basket hit the ground with a cloud of dirt. A little pink face poked out behind a tree, an impish smile on its face. Above the Corviknight circled, a flag of distress held in its claws as it cawed. “Ah, gods damnit! It’s that Tinkaton, again! I can’t go anywhere with that thing in the way.” Within seconds, another boulder smashed into the dirt beside them. Lydia ducked behind the basket, reaching for her gun.



“I will take care of it—” Somehow. “--get ready to fly.” Jerking her head to the left, Lydia and Heimdall moved to surprise the fairy-steel menace.

After her parents died, Lydia devoted herself to avoiding thoughts of them. Any attempts the fathers made to discuss them were met with muteness and teary-eyed, stubbornness.. The pictures she’d retained were tossed into a box. All of the stuff—like her blanket—ended up locked in a closet. At the time, that’d been her defense mechanism against the hurt. But, as she found out, putting a tarp over a tiger pit didn’t take the spikes away.



These days, she welcomed reminders of her time in Johto. The sweeping light of the Slateport Lighthouse or the navigating stars her mother taught her to sail by. And, for Lydia, nothing made her feel closer to them than a trip down to the water. When a friend reached out about the baby turtles hatching, Lydia immediately signed up. Though not a huge migration, her own lighthouse bastion was home to a small group of Tirtouga. Every year, she and her sister would scoop up the babies and stumble their way toward the water.



Her father’s talk about the circle of life be damned.



After a while of doing this, her body looked like it’d been assaulted by a Pallosand. The patterns on her dark blue swimsuit were interrupted by bits of dirt and shell. The little Riolu beside her was in even worse shape, some parts of him looking almost shiny in composition. Her chest heaved with exertion as she stepped away from one emptied nest. Keen blue eyes surveyed the beach like the hungry bird Pokemon resting just out of reach. Then, she saw it, a hint of blue poking above the sand as a little head popped out.



Blue eyes met neon green. The Cramorant nearest the nest spread its wing with a raucous caw. The race was on! “Heimdall!” Like a jack rabbit, the soldier launched herself from her spot. Her legs ate up distance as she dove over the confused hatchling like a live grenade.



Before the Riolu had a chance to toss out a metal claw, she slung a fist into the Cramorant’s banana beak.



“Get out of here, you baby-eater!” The woman yelled as the bird took a few steps back. Almost feral in bearing, the blonde surveyed the waiting line of predators.

Day 7 of 7

After what came to be known as the postcard incident, Lydia’s mind took a turn towards skepticism. So, when a man approached her father with a potential job, the veteran had been wary. Only after she visited the conference room and received the job’s full details did she agree to it. She enjoyed camping—albeit with a shower within reach. She’d also endured some of the toughest training in military history to become an officer.

Staying on an island for a week—to help with tourism and views—seemed easy enough. The sponsor’s inclusion of a luxury tent and a dozen other branded goods, including a portable shower, further simplified the process. Aside from a curious Milotic on the first day, her time on the island had passed in relative peace. To pass the time, the blonde read through a few novels and watched saved shows on her phone. A few power bricks ensured the juice lasted.


Like a guard dog, her Horsea patrolled the island’s circumference, his little red eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. He’d even tried—and failed—to frighten off yesterday’s water serpent. “Horsea!” A call echoed off the beach as he shot a bubble of water at a Krabby. Lydia, normally reserved, could not suppress a chuckle.


This morning, she was laying under the tent, readying herself for the morning. First, she shook stray sand from her sleeping bag as she rose and stretched. “We have reached the final day. I am grateful.” The Lycanroc at her side opened a suspicious eye, staring down the tent flap like it was a predator in waiting. “Come on, Minnie.” The wolf rose with a huff and shake. “ We sould check on Triton.”


Before she’d made it to the Horsea’s hiding spot, a loud noise threw her world into a loop. It was from the other side of the island, near the rocky outcropping? Perhaps someone had crashed? Without a word, Lydia—usually so methodical—rushed across the island. Muscular legs allowed her to easily vault over fallen and rotten trees.


The hound followed, howling her arrival to the robin’s egg sky.


Then, she stood on the bank to survey the source of the noise.

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X TYPE 2 EVO (50 PD) (HORSEA > SEADRA

TOTAL

do come again!

50 PD

After weeks of bed rest and therapy, Lydia could feel her leash loosening. Even though she remained hampered—leaning on a crutch to stay upright—it’d been a while since she felt this free. With father off on a job for the rest of the day, the blonde had been given a few hours in the seaside portion of Slateport. Which, in truth, was her favorite.


It reminded her of home. Lydia could practically feel the worn rail leading up to the family’s lighthouse. Any thought of height or danger vanished as she scaled familiar rocks with the grace and surety of a Skidoo. Her original father’s face usually showed down at her from the top of the stairs like her own beacon. But this beach wasn’t home. The sand was busier and a different shade of brown. Its careful cultivation made it feel less like a sanctuary and more like a deceitful postcard.


As she hobbled down a sand-covered boardwalk to a well-known food stand, the ex-Captain took a moment to look around. At her heel, a Lycanroc followed, her blue eyes sharp as obsidian. A few Wingulls dotted the posts and sand, making Lydia smile at their antics. Standing stiffly, leaning on her crutches, the veteran waited for the family in front of her to finish ordering.


Waiting for them to depart, Lydia strolled up to the counter. She offered a stiff nod to the server. A young boy who seemed to spend more time staring at the beach bunnies than his growing line of patrons. After a moment, the blonde rattled off an order. “I would one crispy fish sandwiches--" The wolf at her side raised a brow, bumping her snout against her companion's leg. "--two crispy fish sandwiches, an order of fries with vinegar, and a cup of water, please.” Another nod followed as she stepped aside.



In moments, she had her lunch in hand. Though, as she struggled to balance it, she realized she’d somehow forgotten the first rule of Teddiursa Scouts. She hadn’t been prepared for four different containers. After a moment, the woman managed to press everything tight against her chest and hobble towards the nearest table.


To say her landing was graceful would be patently false. But, after laying her napkin on her lap and unwrapping her sandwiches, Lydia managed to settle down for a meal. One supplemented by the taste of sea air and the sound of swelling waves. Before doing anything else, she laid one with a napkin beside Minerva. The wolf bowed her head, seemingly in prayer, before moving towards it.


Then a Wingull indeed beside her. A fry was slid towards it. It cawed. “There you are, little friend. Thank you for being so polite.” As she lifted her own sandwich to her mouth, the entire world erupted in a cacophony of feathers and orange beaks.


“!?” The sandwich dropped to the table as the woman began to bat at the flock of Wingull and Pelipper surrounding her.

x - 37 - 45 - LYDIA'S BIO MOM/CON PERSON - UP TO PLAYER

Lead to Orre by a mysterious individual claiming to be her mother, Lydia was promptly mugged and deprived of her travel documents. As the timing was perfect, she has no reason to think this was not a set-up. Her aim is to find this person and demand answers (before trying to throw them in the slammer). This stranger would need a reason to torment Lydia in particular. It could be anything from a criminal undertaking to revenge for the one time she stole their peanut butter sandwich. Just give me drama and a fun cops and robbers chase!

x - 26-33 - LYDIA'S HALF-SISTER - LEAGUE

Lydia has an older sister who is six or seven years above her in age. Absolutely adoring her baby sister, this young woman has a habit of infantilizing her with a smile and ruffled hair. The true leader of the family and heir apparent, she is just as prone to puppeteering as her brother but much better at hiding it. She likely married some hapless gentleman eons ago and drags him around with her. Note that the family would only send one sibling, so if the brother goes then she will likely stay home and direct operations from a distance. She adores stirring up shit and will do so whenever the opportunity presents itself. Profession-wise, I can see lawyer, diplomat, or politician.

X MAGNUSSON - 23-27 - LYDIA'S HALF BROTHER - SOMETHING BRAINY

Lydia has a brother who is three or four years her senior. They spent a lot of time in the family's get-along sweater. She sees him as a slimy and manipulative prick. He views her as a naive do-gooder and unwanted interloper. While he wouldn't let anything too dire happen to her, he has gone overboard in pranks in the past. In hopes of finding her out-of-contact granddaughter, his grandmother requested he track her down (as that's the kind of stuff he specializes in). When he arrives in Hoenn, he will likely find a lawless land that's suited to his personality and ambition. He may be behind the mother plot. He blames Lydia's existence for a lot of his childhood trauma. This young man told her she was a 'dirty bastard.' He does care about her deeply, even if he rarely shows it.

[nospaces]



[newclass=.pc] margin: 0 auto; font: 12px Roboto; color: #aaa; line-height: 15px; letter-spacing: .5px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; padding: 10px; [/newclass]

[newclass=.icon] height: 32px; width: 400px; text-align: right; margin-left: 5px; padding-bottom: 15px; [/newclass]
[newclass=.icon img] float: left; [/newclass]
[newclass=.icon h1] display: inline; position: relative; font: 800 22px Poppins; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 30px; margin-right: -3px; color: #d5ad40; [/newclass]

[newclass=.partytop] background-color: #232323; height: 60px; text-align: center; border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px; padding-bottom: 13px; [/newclass]

[newclass=.bag] padding: 20px; border-radius: 0px 0px 5px 5px; background-color: #272727; border: solid 1px #232323; background-image: url(https://image.ibb.co/cpf8Wc/flower_patt.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom right; [/newclass]

[newclass=.storage] padding: 5px 20px 20px 20px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; text-align: center; [/newclass]

[newclass=.items] padding: 20px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; margin-top: -10px; text-align: center; [/newclass]
[newclass=.items img] padding-top: 5px; [/newclass]

[newclass=.tradee] margin-top: -5px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 10px; text-align: center; [/newclass]

[newclass=.garden] margin-top: -10px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; margin-bottom: 5px; padding: 25px; font: 12px courier new; padding-left: 40px; [/newclass]
[newclass=.garden img] position: relative; float: right; margin-top: -5px; margin-bottom: 10px; [/newclass]
[newclass=.garden h1] font: 800 22px Poppins; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom: -15px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -10px; color: #d5ad40; [/newclass]
[newclass=.garden b] text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1.5px; padding: 5px; color: #d5ad40; [/newclass]

[newclass=.madebywizz] float:right;margin-top:-20px;margin-right:5px;height:12px;width:12px;border-radius:5px;font-size:8px;line-height:12px;text-align:center;padding:1px; [/newclass]