Post by Paris Rosiers on Sept 4, 2012 0:25:04 GMT -8
"A... Wurmple." Paris just... blinked. This was NOT the incredible starter he had been counting on. As the egg, warmed under a slick, modern desk lamp in his spartan room, had cracked, it felt like his hopes had been cracked and broken as well.
This isn't what I need. I needed something stronger... so I could get out of here faster, he thought, a bitter edge to his words. The Rosiers were all about getting things done, better and faster than anyone else... and he had failed to stand and deliver. Again. As the newly-hatched Wurmple shook the last bits of shell off itself, he reached for a bottle of aspirin. He could already feel a headache coming on.
"Wuh... Wurm?" The tiny call of the bug Pokémon got Paris's attention, and he swallowed a pill dry before turning back to it. It hesitantly opened its eyes for the first time, Paris's features unblurring and becoming the first sight it had ever seen. The expression he wore was less than welcoming, however.
"...I guess you'll have to do until I can catch something else," he said. Though his words lacked emotion, already Wurmple felt its heart breaking. It let out a little quiet, persistent whine, wriggling its front legs in a desperate plea for attention. "What?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Are you hungry or something?"
"Wuh... Wuh... WUUURRRMPLLLE!!!" it cried, letting out little raspy sobs and curling up in a tiny, spiky ball. Paris stumbled back at the noise. In the back of his mind he worried about disturbing his other family members, but this thought was quickly thrown out; no one else was home, of course. Not in the middle of the day. He reached out a little towards Wurmple, then pulled back, then reached out, then pulled back... and stayed back. What did he do now? He hadn't read anything that would prepare him for this. In desperation, he scrambled across the floor to his small black messenger bag, digging within for the packet of Pokémon food Professor Willow had provided him.
Hurrying back, he dumped the contents out onto a small dish, prepared beforehand. "Erm... Look. Look Wurmple, food." His voice was drowned out, however, by the continuing cries of the little bug, And he was once again at a loss as the Wurmple didn't budge an inch. "Stop... Just... Stop crying," he pleaded in frustration.
Yep... there was that headache. As the noise continued, he massaged his temples, right above his glasses, and tried to figure out what to do. Just as a test, just to see what would happen, he reached out a hand, laying it softly between spikes on Wurmple's rubbery body.
It jumped at his touch, but the noise stopped... or at least got a whole lot quieter. A positive reaction, he noted to himself, as if his thoughts were words in an observation journal. Good. Continuing with this hypothesis... He gently pet Wurmple, a bit awkwardly, but it did the job. The cries softened and died out, and it uncurled a bit, looking up at Paris with watery eyes.
"There... Much better." He kept petting it, making small mental notes as he did so. "Slightly rounder spikes... so I am assuming you are a female Wurmple."
She didn't quite get what he was talking about but he WAS showing her affection, even if it was odd, disconnected, and one-sided affection. Trying to show interest and to get him to stay, she bobbed her head in a little nod. Sure, whatever he said! She uncurled more, slowly and hesitantly readjusting her position so that, eventually, he was scritching her head.
"Very good. Yes, this is a lot better." Scritch scritch scritch. "No more crying like that... It's unbecoming of you. Do you understand?" His tone was even and calm. She nodded vigorously again, smiling with her eyes and making soft cooing noises. "Good," he said, getting up and taking his hand away.
She blinked rapidly. Why had the pets gone away? Did she do something wrong again? "Wurm... Wurm!!" she cried softly, wriggling her front legs up in the air at him.
"What... You want up? Is that what you want?" Was this what his brothers felt like when he was younger? If so, he suddenly had more sympathy for them... albeit not much. He held out his hand in a makeshift ramp up to his shoulder, questioning his decision slightly when he wasn't sure how much she weighed. Luckily this was a nonissue; she proved to be very light. Wurmple wriggled and cried out in delight, scrabbling up his arm immediately and curling up around his neck. He glanced at the pink blob to the left of his face, and sighed quietly. "Quite the character, aren't you?" She chirruped in response, and he just shook his head slightly. Just for a little while... until I can get something better.
Scooping up his messenger bag and clicking off the light, Paris headed out into the large, roomy house, decorated with the most "now" furniture his father could find. Honestly, he thought it all looked rather silly, but it wasn't like his opinion mattered much. Wurmple looked around, wide-eyed, taking in all these new sights. "This is my family's home," he explained quietly, "but we're not staying here long. We're going outside."
"Wurrr?" she trilled. Outside? You mean there was more? This place was already so big!
"Yes. Outside," he said, pacing quickly down the main hall to the front door. "It isn't healthy for Pokémon to stay inside. And you need to be healthy." He opened the door, and they both squinted at the sudden rush of sunlight. "So we're going outside."
Who was she to complain? Wurmple wriggled in anticipation, blinking a few times until her eyes adjusted to the light... and she found she liked "outside". It was bright and colorful and warm and it smelled different.
"Alright then," he stated. "We're off to the park. And keep your voice down while you're near my ear, please." With that, they were off.
This isn't what I need. I needed something stronger... so I could get out of here faster, he thought, a bitter edge to his words. The Rosiers were all about getting things done, better and faster than anyone else... and he had failed to stand and deliver. Again. As the newly-hatched Wurmple shook the last bits of shell off itself, he reached for a bottle of aspirin. He could already feel a headache coming on.
"Wuh... Wurm?" The tiny call of the bug Pokémon got Paris's attention, and he swallowed a pill dry before turning back to it. It hesitantly opened its eyes for the first time, Paris's features unblurring and becoming the first sight it had ever seen. The expression he wore was less than welcoming, however.
"...I guess you'll have to do until I can catch something else," he said. Though his words lacked emotion, already Wurmple felt its heart breaking. It let out a little quiet, persistent whine, wriggling its front legs in a desperate plea for attention. "What?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Are you hungry or something?"
"Wuh... Wuh... WUUURRRMPLLLE!!!" it cried, letting out little raspy sobs and curling up in a tiny, spiky ball. Paris stumbled back at the noise. In the back of his mind he worried about disturbing his other family members, but this thought was quickly thrown out; no one else was home, of course. Not in the middle of the day. He reached out a little towards Wurmple, then pulled back, then reached out, then pulled back... and stayed back. What did he do now? He hadn't read anything that would prepare him for this. In desperation, he scrambled across the floor to his small black messenger bag, digging within for the packet of Pokémon food Professor Willow had provided him.
Hurrying back, he dumped the contents out onto a small dish, prepared beforehand. "Erm... Look. Look Wurmple, food." His voice was drowned out, however, by the continuing cries of the little bug, And he was once again at a loss as the Wurmple didn't budge an inch. "Stop... Just... Stop crying," he pleaded in frustration.
Yep... there was that headache. As the noise continued, he massaged his temples, right above his glasses, and tried to figure out what to do. Just as a test, just to see what would happen, he reached out a hand, laying it softly between spikes on Wurmple's rubbery body.
It jumped at his touch, but the noise stopped... or at least got a whole lot quieter. A positive reaction, he noted to himself, as if his thoughts were words in an observation journal. Good. Continuing with this hypothesis... He gently pet Wurmple, a bit awkwardly, but it did the job. The cries softened and died out, and it uncurled a bit, looking up at Paris with watery eyes.
"There... Much better." He kept petting it, making small mental notes as he did so. "Slightly rounder spikes... so I am assuming you are a female Wurmple."
She didn't quite get what he was talking about but he WAS showing her affection, even if it was odd, disconnected, and one-sided affection. Trying to show interest and to get him to stay, she bobbed her head in a little nod. Sure, whatever he said! She uncurled more, slowly and hesitantly readjusting her position so that, eventually, he was scritching her head.
"Very good. Yes, this is a lot better." Scritch scritch scritch. "No more crying like that... It's unbecoming of you. Do you understand?" His tone was even and calm. She nodded vigorously again, smiling with her eyes and making soft cooing noises. "Good," he said, getting up and taking his hand away.
She blinked rapidly. Why had the pets gone away? Did she do something wrong again? "Wurm... Wurm!!" she cried softly, wriggling her front legs up in the air at him.
"What... You want up? Is that what you want?" Was this what his brothers felt like when he was younger? If so, he suddenly had more sympathy for them... albeit not much. He held out his hand in a makeshift ramp up to his shoulder, questioning his decision slightly when he wasn't sure how much she weighed. Luckily this was a nonissue; she proved to be very light. Wurmple wriggled and cried out in delight, scrabbling up his arm immediately and curling up around his neck. He glanced at the pink blob to the left of his face, and sighed quietly. "Quite the character, aren't you?" She chirruped in response, and he just shook his head slightly. Just for a little while... until I can get something better.
Scooping up his messenger bag and clicking off the light, Paris headed out into the large, roomy house, decorated with the most "now" furniture his father could find. Honestly, he thought it all looked rather silly, but it wasn't like his opinion mattered much. Wurmple looked around, wide-eyed, taking in all these new sights. "This is my family's home," he explained quietly, "but we're not staying here long. We're going outside."
"Wurrr?" she trilled. Outside? You mean there was more? This place was already so big!
"Yes. Outside," he said, pacing quickly down the main hall to the front door. "It isn't healthy for Pokémon to stay inside. And you need to be healthy." He opened the door, and they both squinted at the sudden rush of sunlight. "So we're going outside."
Who was she to complain? Wurmple wriggled in anticipation, blinking a few times until her eyes adjusted to the light... and she found she liked "outside". It was bright and colorful and warm and it smelled different.
"Alright then," he stated. "We're off to the park. And keep your voice down while you're near my ear, please." With that, they were off.
