[attr="class","minicharh"]

sylvie faust

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

"isn't it?"[break][break]

absolutely crazy, the fact that pokemon this strong were running around and about. she's lucky she hasn't actually run into anything too dangerous, but that doesn't mean she can't later. [break][break]

the songstress glances down at the espeon, who is so affectionately trilling at her concern. "aw, don't be like that. look at how cute she is~" sylvia coos, and her shaymin follows suit. the shaymin hops out of her arms, a grassy terrain sprouting beneath her little paws to offer some form of healing for the feline. the grass will follow her as long as she walks, and it should be alright for the time being. [break][break]

"yeah, they do, but virtuo is still a lil baby. aren't you?" her coo is met with a soft shaymin's chime. "and i'm not much of a battler. what about you?~"

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

sylvie faust

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

thank god. [break][break]

gratitude lingers, evident by the blooming gracidea in the shaymin's mossy fur. it buries the lingering anxiety when she thinks about what could have happened to her exploration partner after they got separated; she'll say a silent prayer and hope for the best. [break][break]

the welcome is warm, and bright, and pleasant enough to encourage her to get closer. though as she approaches, their height difference becomes.. painfully obvious. she's short, she knows, but the sting is so strong when she's put next to someone she has to crane her head up to be able to look in the eye. [break][break]

"yeah, we got separated during one of the stampedes." one that she shouldn't have joined in subjugating if she knew she was going to get lost. despite the slight pout, she smiles, laughing it off. the laugh softens when she gets a better look at the espeon, who she now realizes is grooming her wounds. a slight frown drops her smile, just as her heart slowly sinks. [break][break]

"is your espeon okay? they look hurt.."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

sylvie faust

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

"oh, shoot--" [break][break]

she never meant to stalk around; honest. there's just been so many dangerous pokemon, and the songstress is feeling a little bit out of her element. unfortunately, "no" isn't in her dictionary (it used to be, and she's starting to think she should never have removed it). [break][break]

shaymin in her arms, she comes from her little shade of safety. the bright shine of verdant green show no signs of wear when the smile reaches her eyes. "sorry! did i startle you?" of course she did; this place was teaming with rocket members and dangerous pokemon to boot. she prays that she doesn't run into any of them. [break][break]

"do you mind if i stick with you for a while? it's pretty dangerous out here.." the chances of her being safer are higher when they have numbers, and her own partner seems to have gotten lost themselves. this was just until she could rendezvous; surely it should be okay.


[break][break]

F5_GKOeh

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

peace.[break][break]

sylvia has never known a word more naive than this - more ignorant than this. though her lips are curled into a smile, as is her eyes squinting with contentment, her spirit cackles beneath the innocent emerald gaze. the optimism is nice, refreshing even, but she knows better than to get her hopes up (she's left to think again; have humans ever known peace?).[break][break]

even if it's the one thing she wishes for. [break][break]

"awh, you flatter me~" the woman chuckles, guitar strumming to match the gleeful key. truly, music was the cure to all wounds - if it can help break the ice of what turned out to be such a deeper conversation, surely it's doing its own job right. [break][break]

just then, she has a wonderful idea come to mind. "is there any particular song you'd like to hear?" she asks, her fingers beginning to idly strum an improvised tune. "i can sing most songs, or you can listen to another original of mine~."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

they all love someone.[break][break]

the words don't settle all too well - maybe it drives home that a human is killing another human. sylvia can never say she's laid her hands on another person, but she knows the weight that comes with stealing a person's livelihood, meaning, future, and love away from them (she's the reason, whether she'll admit or not; love spoken with rose-tinted lens from the woman who couldn't tell right from wrong). [break][break]

for more people to think like her, would require people to be naive or foolish enough to think it were possible. her lips curl into a smile, and her fingers lightly busk the treated wood. "hah~" the woman chuckles "if that's the case, there'll be too many people to protect, and too few people doing the protecting." because it's a vulnerable view. it's a childish view. it's an ignorant view. [break][break]

she mulls over her thoughts, and there's a piece of her that lingers on the comment on death. yes, she knows it's a line from a song, and she's familiar with said song, but she'll answer it regardless with a smile on her lips. "one death, by the by." she hums, strumming once again, though on a more melancholic key. "one death is too much, don't you think?~" [break][break]

and in a perfect world, there would be none. [break][break]

this was not a perfect world.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

the words reek of naivety. [break][break]

sylvia is aware - painfully aware - of how hopeful she may sound. sylvia is aware of how painfully optimistic and simple she sounds, she knows how red everything looks when you gaze into the rose-tinted lens. when he brings up two of the higher-ups in rocket, she has to hold her tongue, and she can't help but to grimace slightly. [break][break]

yes, sylvia has heard much about them on the news; how rocket has terrorized others, and how much trouble they've caused throughout the years, and the tragedy that was kanto when they were able to get their hands on the government; the beautiful region has since fallen to ashes and ruin - and she knows they've hurt more people than she could count on her fingers. [break][break]

she doesn't know either one, of course, but sylvia knows better than to judge the reasons someone has pulling the trigger when the barrel is pressed against the forehead. some people do it for survival, some people do it for necessity, some people do it for the twisted feeling it gives them. [break][break]

"love," she starts, a smile to her lips "isn't something everyone is capable of." there's a somberness when she strums, emerald eyes fixated on her fingers as they idly pluck at the strings. "so when someone can love, deeply, it proves that they're human." humans, not monsters; when she thinks about it, the people who have killed so many aren't "monsters" to her. [break][break]

"they've done horrible things, but because they can love, they are human. humans can change." not unprompted, mind, and though she's one of those who changed, she should not be the example. "because they're humans, they can choose to act for the love they hold, whether it's for another person, or a cause they fight for, and what they love can change." she's rambling, and she knows. sylvia presses on, regardless, with another idle strum of the acoustic. [break][break]

"hate is a form of love. it comes from the remains of it, doesn't it?" a twisted, warped, yet simultaneously the purest form of love - save for the word itself. whether it be the ashes or the final burning flame, it's the proof that it once existed, or it still exists. "even if it doesn't make it right, no one is actually right. everyone just thinks they're right, and tells themselves that they're right. they could be wrong, but it doesn't mean they're bad." the woman pauses in her strum, mulling her thoughts, and beginning to strum a slower, lower tune.[break][break]

"it's bad when they love their ambition more than what they're supposed to protect."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Lavinia Linnea

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

another freelance job. [break][break]

but this time around, they're paying her a hefty sum. it's definitely because she's in slateport, and now she's expecting a good amount of tips. but no, we can't be having too high expectations. if you expect too much, you're setting yourself up for failure, and the last thing she wants is to be disappointed if they aren't up to par. [break][break]

sylvia doesn't need much when she goes into a bar; only her acoustic guitar and an open mic. she's more than happy to perform a song for the patrons that day. it's a lively little place, so maybe something a little more peppy, upbeat and homey was the right call. [break][break]

every song ends, as they're supposed to. there's clapping, and some softer cheering in the bar afterwards, and sylvia wears a bright smile before putting her guitar down to rest against the stool. "i'll be right back~" she chimes to the patrons in the microphone, before hopping off the mini-stage to get to the bar counter. [break][break]

there, she sees a lovely young woman. cute, brunette, looking very lively. "hey! could i have a glass of water?~" the songstress muses, tilting her head and tucking a lock of platinum behind an ear.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

it's clear that he'd like the idea of a music venue. [break][break]

she'll admit, the idea in of itself is nice. it'd be a great idea if she wanted to spread her music to a larger crowd, or if she wanted to stand on a larger stage that could hold her voice, and the songs she's written. if she wanted to stand on the large stage, under the spotlight, an angel could finally properly shine. perhaps then, she could probably spread her wings. [break][break]

a wonderful dream, indeed. [break][break]

mister sheriff here seems to have a liking to music. if she's bold enough, she'll bring up that his love for music seems to match the passion he has for this little beachside city. the fact that he's still free to speak with her shows that, or maybe she's just that good of a speaking partner? if it's the latter, she'd best give herself a pat on the back - and her boss better give her an extra tip. [break][break]

instead, her coy smile and cheeky tone broaden; no, she makes no attempt to hide them this time around. "call it a gut feeling?" her smile beams, upper body leaning against the top of a wooden acoustic. her fingers, still, idly strum with the note to match a near sing-song muse. "you meet a lot of people in bars, and everyone becomes honest after just enough drinks in." she chuckles, though perhaps her sense of danger is too muted. [break][break]

"besides," sylvia slowly closes her eyes, and her idle strums slowly form a more cohesive tune "someone with so much love for something can't be a bad person."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

catching

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

if it doesn't survive, well, survival of the fittest? [break][break]

heartless? perhaps, but she's off hours, so there's no one to see her neglecting her saintly image. the only one here to see it is the primarina, anyways. yes, she is only slightly judging her. [break][break]

"don't look at me like that." says the woman, a smile on her lips. a click of her tongue makes the primarina squint, but she doesn't do anything past that. instead, her attention is caught by a passing azumarill scrolling down the water route, so casually floating down the river that the trainer's walking next to. [break][break]

the chubby little thing is adorable, and it brings a spark to the trainer's eye. "mezzo," she starts, pointing to the floating water pokemon "hyper voice, please." [break][break]

at the command, the primarina takes in a deep breath to release a loud, high pitch screech at the floating pokemon. it catches the poor thing off guard, and nearly blows them out of the water. before it can realize what was happening, sylvia throws a pokeball at them, hoping to capture them with the blue light that comes out. [break][break]

"nice work~" she gently pats the top of the primarina's head, who lets out a happy little hum.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

alcohol was a great conversation starter. [break][break]

it's an ice breaker, and lays a person's heart bare. unless a person is completely immune to its effects, they'll always spill under the influence of its pleasure; she would know first hand, as someone who'll happily sit on both sides. if you ask her, she'll admit it's fascinating; the way someone can lay their soul out with their guards down. it's magical. [break][break]

she chuckles, locks falling to one side at the slight tilt of her head. "no, it's fine! listening to someone talk about something they love never gets tiring." the vibrant green gaze tells no lie, and really, it isn't any trouble. she's already sitting on her stool, after all, and she'll be the first to admit that this was rejuvenating in of itself. [break][break]

"i mentioned littleroot and oldale for a reason, after all~" sylvia chimes, her fingers idly strumming against the strings of her acoustic. "sure, the big city is nice to be swept away in" the lock she's tucked behind her ear falls over to her shoulder again, but she makes no attempt to remedy it. not this time. "but if you spend so much time out of your head, you eventually lose sight of who you are." she ends with a hum and light note - a contrast to softer, slightest melancholic tone. [break][break]

"i'm sure everyone here is wonderful, if they're like you~" sylvia beams with another strum of her acoustic, a cheeky giggle sounding from her lips all the same.

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

Michael Navidson

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

boy, she should have gotten a notebook or something.[break][break]

this was good information she was getting, and it's a shame she isn't able to jot down more. hopefully, she'll be able to remember by the time she gets home after a long day? she doubts it, but hey! you miss all the shots you don't take, said a once famous man. seraphim does not know the reference. at least, there's one thing she won't forget any time soon. [break][break]

the pride in his voice. [break][break]

he speaks like a father, proud of his home, in love with the land. she can't help but to wonder, but in this apparent hellhole of a region, maybe that's why he's stayed for as long as he has. at the trail of his mauville suggestion, the songstress lets out a soft hum, followed by a smile. "dewford, huh..?" [break][break]

she'll admit: "mauville sounds like a wonderful place." with a smile on her lips, and perhaps it would be good with business, but the hustle and bustle of the city, the stench of alcohol and drowned desires have grown stale. the excitement of the night has grown exhausting. [break][break]

"but it sounds like your heart's in dewford?" the platinum haired woman chimes, tenting her fingers against her stomach. "you sound like a proud dad~"

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]