calling_logs | There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

[Fortunately for Polnareff, kids from his world are reliable enough ~~to take down dangerous cults and criminals terrorizing entire cities and summoning ancient beasts or whatever~~ and strong, adept at trekking mountains, deserts, and whatever else in all kinds of weather!

He's not particularly hardy by trainer standards, only having been on a journey for about half a year, but he's still faster than the average kid.]

Hey. Are you the one who talked to me?

[Not much of an introduction, was it?

He just walked up to him and stood with hand on hip, waiting for him to notice him, but spoke when it seemed to him that he was taking too long (he seemed a little dazed or lost in thought?).

Lampent floated close by on his left side. On his right side, a large green serpent with a leafy collar and similarly leafy rattletail, elegantly adorned with fleurdelis patterns. The same sort of haughty air accompanied both boy and snake, heads high, eyes sharp. They seemed to mirror each other the most.

So, the boy had two and possibly even more of these creatures...]

Yes.

[His mouth twitches into something that might be a smile, but even then, it only lasts for a few seconds. Polnareff tucks his communicator away and studies Trip, head to toe, taking in both the boy himself and the animals next to him.]

Another friend of yours?

[While he looked him over, Trip seemed quite blatantly distracted by Polnareff's legs... and, primarily, the fact that he was wheelchair-bound.

When he questioned him, he finally managed to tear his gaze away and nodded quickly, looking a bit embarrassed and hoping he hadn't caused offense.]

Yeah! My partner, Serperior... I've had him since he was a Snivy. He was my first.

[Rude. Polnareff's eyes narrowed, but as Trip's gaze lingered for only a few seconds, he didn't bring it up. Instead:]

Tell me about it. Them. Where I'm from, you can only have one at a time. Though--

[He studied both Pokemon.]

I think what I call a Stand and what you call a Pokemon are very different. Yours aren't linked to you spiritually, are they?

[That sounds like something Burgh would say while going on about pure hearts... but no, he shakes his head.]

Well, Lampent tried to eat my spirit a little when we met, but... [Litwick do that.]

Some trainers consider their partner Pokemon soulmates, if you believe in that sort of thing. [He didn't.]

We're separate, body and soul, but our goal's the same.

Your Stand, what's it called? How is it linked to you?

[So like a trained attack dog. Except far more dangerous than a dog; no dog would ever try and eat your soul. But all right. That's a little easier to understand.

At that question, though, Polnareff offers a correction:]

Was. His name was Silver Chariot. And Stands are a manifestation of one's soul, so each one is unique to the person. Mine took the form of a knight. It manifests a number of ways, but one of the consistencies is strength of spirit: you have to be particularly driven or focused in order to have a Stand.

[They're more intelligent, so more like athletes, really!]

W-was?

[Hearing that alone gave him a bad feeling, but when he went on to describe it as a manifestation of one's own soul... that gave him chills.]

... you lost part of your soul?

[He can't even ask more questions about Stands because he's so stunned by it.

Lampent is as stoic as ever, simply floating there and staring, without a care. Serperior however, mirrors Trip's fear, but in a more restrained fashion, recoiling a bit, a disturbed look in its eyes. It even exchanges quick looks with Trip.

Quite intelligent, clearly comprehending the meaning behind the words.]

Were there repercussions? You can't just lose something like that...

How did it happen?

[Hm. He notices that, the exchange, the horror-- it's understandable in Trip, but that animal oughtn't have been reacting so visibly. It's possible he's just mirroring his master, of course, but Polnareff makes note of it nonetheless.

As for that question . . . there's no easy way to answer it. Not just because the answer hurts-- although it does, even now, a hollow little void in the center of his chest that refuses to go away-- but because it's so complicated.]

We were forced apart by a man intent on killing me. It wasn't something easily done-- people whose Stands are hurt or severed like that typically do die. [And so did he. But he'd rather not disclose his death, not at all and not especially to this child, no matter how mature he is. Save some secrets for later, yeah?] But I knew what he'd planned on doing, and had a failsafe. I managed to survive, but Chariot didn't.

[He doesn't sound particularly upset. There's a dullness in his voice, a carefully cultivated flatness that he's determined to keep. As Polnareff speaks, he looks between Trip and Serperior, watching closely. Is the pokemon reacting to Polnareff's words or simply mirroring Trip's reactions?]

[Trip's expression settled into an uneasy resignation, althoughhis hands tightened into fists at his sides. But Serperior... its fear cooled also, but into true and complete acceptance and while Trip stared at the ground Serperior looked at his trainer, tail curling protectively around him, coiling loosely around his legs. A protective gesture.]

Serrr...-perior Serperior, ser.

[Despite communicating solely in the broken-up sylables of its name (with a strangely grave note of finality), it seemed they could communicate as that was enough to spur Trip into snapping at it:] Don't say that!

... Serperior says if it were him, it would have happily died, if its master could live.

[It seemed Serperior was watching Polnareff while Trip speak— it wasn't reacting to the sound of its trainer's voice, it understood he was speaking to Polnareff and was waiting to see how he would react to those words. Did it intend for Trip to convey those words?]

Chariot didn't have a choice.

[There was a note of sharpness in Polnareff's voice-- but only for a moment. Then it was gone, smoothed out and tucked away as if it'd never been there.]

You can understand them, then? How?

[Serperior is far too proud to bow to anyone other than its master or someone who its master respected, so it seemed adamant on its stance and says as much in very inistent, clipped words.

It's certain it would have, if it had a choice.

Trip, on the other hand, winces as if the words had cut him— it's very, very slight, easy-to-miss reaction, but they were enough to deter him.]

Not... exactly. I can't understand their language, you can't put me in front of a wild Pokemon and expect me to understand anything it's saying. But they understand us and when they speak with humans, they learn to copy the sounds of the language. If you listen to them long enough. It starts to sound like your words.

[... the device here certainly helps, so Seperior's hissing starts to sound like approximations of words he would understand, if given enough attention.

"If given the choice, it would have made the same one."]

You start to recognize how it imitates the sound of your name, what it says when it agrees, what it says when it disagrees, you start to notice how it copies the intonation of a word like "sa-yo-na-ra." I knew a boy who drew his goodbyes out like "saaa-yona-raaa" and his Pikachu would repeat it with the same emphasis in the same places "piii-kapi-kaaa."

[If it sounds a little silly, well, it is, a bit (and he's feeling pretty embarrassed doing those imitations), but they can understand each other like this, so what's the harm?]

... maybe it's a little harder in English, but they kind of... break words into pairs of consonants and vowels, so they copy Japanese well.

[Again: like a pet and yet not. It's not uncommon for a pet and their owner to come to understand what certain basic sounds mean for one another; what yowl means hungry or what behavior sit ought to produce. But something like this is a cut above that.]

I'd like to hear a little more, if you wouldn't mind translating.

[Whether or not their conversation is about Chariot he'll leave up to Trip.]

That's fine. [Trip turned to Serperior and then Lampent.] Is there anything more you'd like to say? [Only a tiny bit wary... well, at least this way, he's only the middleman.

Lampent finally rejoins the conversation:] Pent, laam-pent la?

... I think... he's asking if you're "like" someone...

Pent la... pent lah-ampent.

... the "wolf in the forest." You mean— "like Wolf"?

[Dio. But Trip didn't know his name and he didn't think he wanted to be found, he certainly didn't want his picture taken, so Trip felt he wasn't supposed to talk about him at all... so he immediately looked to the very judgemental Serperior, immediately dropping the subject with nervousness.]

Serperior, what about you?

'Serp!

[Serperior turned its head away with a flick.]

... you can't call someone we just met "weak."

I'm sorry, they're... not used to talking to other people. They aren't exactly friendly all the time, I've only got one who's a people-person, so...

[Trip turned slowly, smiling nervously, like an frazzleed father, embarrassed by misbehaving children.]

[Polnareff stiffens visibly. He ignores Trip's apologies and his Pokemon, instead focusing on only one word:]

Wolf.

[God. What a stupidly pretentious name. It might not be him, of course, but that kind of nickname perfectly fit his arrogance and superiority.]

Blond hair? Large? Pointed teeth? Is that who you mean?

[The same tension takes hold of Trip, seizing his muscles, and threatening to choke him. Dio did not want to be found. Dio may have offered him friendship, but he certainly wasn't naive enough to think he could cross the man and live

He remembered how small his hand was in his, like a fragile doll, the man could crush him without a thought and he let him know that even as he smiled and shook his hand.

—he could feel his nervousness betray him with all the candor of a child, so Trip couldn't lie now. There's no way Polnareff would believe him even if he tried, so the idea was discarded immediately. Instead, he bit his lip and nodded, quietly, with sharpened eyes trying to mask nervousness with a silent warning not to tell on him. Not pleading, practically threatening, even though he was in no position to do so.

Pride was everything.

At least, he could truthfully say he never breathed a word about Dio.]

[AT least he was alive. That was a miracle right then and there; Dio had let Trip live. But then again, of course he had. He had no qualms about murder, but he also didn't do it needlessly. A boy terrified of him was worth far more alive than dead.

Polnareff exhales slowly, his hand rubbing at his mouth. Trip looks terrified, and yet here he is, telling Polnareff anyway. That's worth something.]

He's the reason I don't show my face on the network.

[He offers that quietly. It isn't something so intimate or personal as his real name-- although if Trip goes and tells Dio of a man with a Stand named Chariot, he'll certainly know who's here. But that's all right. He can't stay hidden forever.]

He's dangerous. But you've realized that by now, haven't you? He killed most of my friends. He nearly killed me. You were lucky to escape--

[--him, but Polnareff cuts himself off. Pauses a moment, then beckons Trip forward.]

Come here.

[Trip watched Polnareff closely, studying every move: the slow exhale, the hand at his mouth.

There's something between them and whatever it is, it's not pleasant. Bad blood.

He knew Dio was dangerous. He knew he could've been killed that night, it's a miracle he made it out alive. And he wasn't one to believe in miracles, much less count on them.

His racing heartbeat is almost deafening when Polnareff continued to speak. When he gestures for him to come near, instead, he bolts.

It's a reaction that even takes Seperior and Lampent by surprise, because it's so disgracefully unlike him, but he's terrified and maybe he could deal with Dio that night because it was all happening at once and felt unreal and dreamlike, but after it all sunk in, he realized just how close a call that was, he wasn't about to take another chance like that, not so soon, not with someone with every reason to hold a death grudge against that man.

Lampent remains in its place, only staring, but Serperior follows his trainer, who doesn't run very far because he keeps stumbling in his panic. It's rather pitiful, but at least he doesn't scream (or make any sound at all)?]

[He doesn't bother chasing after him. It's useless; he couldn't catch up if he tried. Besides, chasing Trip will only scare him further. Instead, Polnareff glances up at Lampent.]

Tell him I have no intention of hurting him. I want to make sure Dio hasn't hurt him, even in ways he doesn't realize. Can you do that?

[Lampent listened, then, bobbed in the air as if nodding. It flew to its trainer's side fast (but not as fast as Serperior) and caight him in a glowing, psychic restraint before he could hit the ground.

It floated him up to set him back on his feet while explaining. Trip still looked uncertain, but with Lampent right there, even if Polnareff tried anything, Lampent could take his soul. So he walked back, hands in pockets, trying to look brave, but as soon as he's within (normal) earshot, he says outloud:]

Burn his soul if he tries anything.

Pen, pen.... [In a humouring, "yes, yes, if he does anything" sort of way.

[He's not particularly scared by that threat. You die once, suddenly even the most dire of threats pale a little in comparison. Polnareff stares at him for a few seconds, waiting to see if he bolts again, before saying:]

He brainwashed me once. I spent three months of my life serving him.

[Just as when he disclosed his Stand's death, there's no particular grief on Polnareff's voice. It's just a fact, flatly stated.]

I wanted to see if he had done the same to you.

[He doubts it now, though. Not if Trip's first instinct was to run and not fight. Someone under Dio's sway would have taken the opportunity to kill him.]

There's a mark, usually along your forehead or in your hair.

[But hearing that... made him feel ashamed. That much was easy to see, as his face flushed and he guiltly stared at the ground.] He never touched either.
[He raised his hand to push his messy fringe back, to show his unmarked forehead. Choppy as his haircut was, his hair was quite soft and fine, so it lay rather flat against his head and wasn't too difficult to sift through— nonetheless, he'd rather do it on his own, he hated having someone touch his hair or pat his head... but he couldn't exactly see anything out of his range of sight.

Serperior does try to inspect, though.]

... he only offered friendship and made an offer. Do you have to be a certain age?

['When the time comes,' he said.]

Edited 2016-09-08 05:32 (UTC)

He doesn't have to touch you.

[But from what he can see, the boy is unmarked. Good.]

And no. There's no age requirement. I only knew of a few others who had that process done to them, but he's perfectly fine with working with anyone, children or adults.

[Even infants. That had been a weird day.]

But friendship . . . that's how it starts. Friendship, or an offer for something you desperately want. Sometimes they're the same thing.

He... doesn't?

[Children too? This... actually frightens him a little and makes him take this more seriously.]

... and under his control, is there any way to break it? Do you have any awareness of what you're doing?

[Even so, it sounded like he was still considering accepting that offer.]

... I'm sorry if I've reminded you of something bad, you don't have to answer if you don't want to.

You can ask. It was a long time ago for me.

[Even so, Polnareff takes a few seconds to answer.]

. . . you're aware of what you're doing. You can see yourself doing things you'd never do, but you can't stop yourself. No matter how repugnant or horrific the action, you simply do it, because you don't have a choice.

[He pauses for a moment, letting that sink in. His memories of what he did under Dio's control are blurry, smears of color and snatches of conversation, but what he does remember . . . well. He tries not to think of it.]

There's a way to break it, but I can't do it. A friend of mine can, but even then, it's risky. Dio implants a . . . I suppose you could call it a parasite. It wraps around your brain; it's why it's nearly impossible to break away from his control.

[He exchanges uneasy looks with Lampent (who is less affected, but it could see more than Trip, after all), then searches for a bench or a tree to lean on or something, because that's a lot to take in.]

... ugh.

[The description of a parasite invading his head sounds absolutely nightmarish, but, not knowing how to react to it, decides on a whim to reach for Polnareff's hand to hold it.

He doesn't give hugs and normally hates physical contact, but. He really felt like Polnareff could use something, even if he says it was a long time ago. He still looked upset.]

...

That's horrifying!

That's so wrong.

I'm sorry for running and not listening, before.

... what should we do? If we meet him again? If he tries to make good on his "offer"?

[Oh. That's . . . okay. Polnareff blinks, a little taken aback but not displeased by the way Trip takes his hand. But he oughtn't be surprised. The kid can't be more than, what, thirteen? He probably wants the comfort. He twists his hand upright, threading their fingers together.]

Run.

[He says it simply.]

That wasn't a bad instinct. It saved my friend from that fate once. He ran the second his instincts told him to. If it's daylight, run for it-- he can't be out during the day. If not . . . call me. Myself or a Giorno Giovanna.

[He articulates the name clearly, trying to make sure he remembers it.]

If you can run and hide long enough for one of us to come get you, we will. I promise.

[He was a bit surprised by the upturned hand and even moreso by the way he laced their fingers together, but once he made sense of it, he tightened his grip a little in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.
Toiuch was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, still, but this wasn't too invasive, all things considered, it was actually kind of soothing... did he need to calm down too? He hadn't realized it until just now.]

Giorno Giovanna...

Is there any way to fight him? I don't want to hide behind others forever, like a weak child.

[He was still quite proud, but he didn't take offense to the running advice, so much as the idea of hiding perpetually, given that Polnareff said it saved a friend too.

But he has too many questions now and delivers them rapid succession, with brows stitching in worry.]

What if you're both indisposed?

... I've never met this Giovanna person, how will I recognize him?

And can I take your picture? I'll remember better that way.

[On his free hand, he holds up a finger to mark each question.]

There's no way for you to fight him. The first time my friends and I went against him, it took all five of us to take him down. There isn't anything that would take precedence over someone's safety, but if we somehow don't respond, stay hidden. I'll show you a picture of Giorno. And no, you can't.

[He digs into his pocket for his communicator. As he skims the network for a picture of his don, he adds:]

I'm still hiding from Dio. It won't last forever, he'll learn of my existence sooner or later-- but a picture isn't how I want him to find out. Once he does, though, I'll let you know. Here--

[He shows him the video.]

That's Giovanna.

... understood.

[He was proud, but not foolishly reckless. Polnareff was very convincing, so he had no reason not to listen.]

He said no, too. [Neither of them wanted to be found, it seems.]

... once he does, what will you do then?

[He didn't like the sound of that and held his hand more tightly. He wished he could promise to fight by his side, but it didn't sound like he'd be anything more than a burden fighting Dio. He felt so useless and it frustrated him and made him feel intensely guilty, a fact that reflected quite easily on his face. That is, until he sees the video, when his eyes light up.]

Oh, he's beautiful!

[Now why was that his first reaction?
Focus, Trip.]

I mean... that'll make him easy to remember and recognize.

[Despite himself, despite the danger they're discussing, Polnareff's mouth twists into a brief smile.]

He is.

[There's no denying it, okay.]

He's a good person, too. Tell him I sent you-- that Jean-Pierre sent you-- and he'll help you.

[As for Trip's other question . . . Polnareff squeezes his hand. Carefully:]

Once he finds out that I'm here, I suspect he'll be angry. But killing me would be a stupid move, so I think I'll be all right. Besides which, I'm hardly going to tell him where I am.

That's— that's good. [It isn't ideal, it didn't sound like Dio will let him go unscathed if there was to be a direct confrontation, but "ideal" isn't usually achievable anyway. Only knowing that Dio wouldn't likely kill him was enough. He only just met Polnareff, but he already liked him a great deal: he didn't talk down to him or make any false promises.]

... thank you.

For helping me. For thinking this far, even though I have nothing to do with you. —I didn't mean to get mixed up in all this, I swear, I was just finding food for Lampent and the body happened to be...

[He felt his blood freeze over and paled visibly, sp he quickly ended that particular train of thought.]

Not against him, but, if you're ever in trouble, we'll back you up too, okay? [Very earnest, giving him a smile.]

Shake on it?

[Might as well, right? Since their hands were joined to begin with.]

[He twists his hand, gripping Trip's hand in a tight shake, and offers him a slight smile.]

Dio often lures people who didn't mean to get mixed up with him. Half the people who ended up under his control didn't mean for it to happen. Don't think less of yourself because of it.

[It was a strong, firm handshake, but not in an overbearingly dominating or threatening way like Dio's. It's kinder, like Alder's.

His cheeks colour and he soon lets go, waiting for Polnareff to release his grip too, so he can pull his hand away.]

It's not... thinking less of myself, it's just— frustrating. To know I could still be taken advantage of, tricked so easily. [He doesn't mean to insult anyone else, this frustration is aimed solely at himself. Serperior understood and butted its head into his shoulder, with an air of affectionate concern, until he stroked its head.]

I thought this sort of thing didn't happen when you're an adult.

That it only happened to naive children.

[If there was some thing good about being an adult, it was being more aware and much more stronger than a weak and naive child, wasn't it? That was his view of things and he didn't much like having it challenged.]

[He doesn't cling to Trip's hand, releasing it when the boy tugs on it. His smile fades, though, at the boy's frustration. He isn't offended by it. He might have been when he was younger, but it's been a long time since his pride was so easily hurt.]

Dio is extremely charismatic. Most of his followers followed him willingly, not because they were all entirely soulless, but because he inspired such devotion.

[He doesn't mention that Trip is still a child; that thirteen is a child by nearly anyone's point of view.]

I was twenty-two. My friend was seventeen. But some of his followers were far older than that. Being tricked like that . . . it isn't a matter of intelligence or canniness. He's a power unto himself. It's why he's so dangerous. Not just because of what he can do, but how smooth he is while he does it. Does that make sense?

[He realized he misspoke when Dio recounted his and his friend's story, with the ages this time. He looked apologetic, but found the words too difficult to say.]

... yes, I understand.

It wasn't aimed at you, by the way. My words were only for me. You're an adult at ten, where I'm from... and I have different reasons for having needed to grow up quickly.

[Well, the age issue is a bit more complicated than that, but he feels no need to explain the legal workings of his world. As for his own reasons, they're not something he discusses unprompted, but he wanted to catch up with someone much, much older.]

But— I see now this has nothing to do with that. He's charismatic, he's powerful, but in a subtle way you won't notice until it's too late to escape...

That was a close call, wasn't it?

[This dreary talk's gone on for a while, maybe he should try to lighten the mood... he's not exactly good at that, but... Serperior picks up on that and tries to nudge Polnareff's shoulder. It'd nuzzle him if he let it, it was very affectionate despite the rather arrogant air about it. Meanwhile, Trip had to think of something to do: maybe let him pick who to meet from the rest of his team....?]

Yes.

[But Trip is sufficiently warned, and there's no need to terrorize him. Polnareff strokes two fingers over Serperior's head, smiling as he does.]

Show me what you two can do, hm? I still haven't gotten a proper demonstration.

[A demonstration? This, he can do. Hm, what's the best way to showcase their individual strengths, but also not make one outshine the other? (It would grieve Serperior to be outshined, Lampent would not care to be nothing more than a staging post for his partner Pokemon either).

Flashy attacks, like a Contest battle, maybe... they'll be showcasing their abilities, right now.]

Alright, Serperior! Use Frenzy Plant!

Lampent, counter with Flamethrower!

[Serperior's leafy tail rattles, glows with a light, then, it strikes the ground, sending large, thick, and twisting roots ripping through the ground, weaving in and out of the earth, covered in, sharp thorns. The ends shoot out towards Lampent, but with a quickly executed flamethrower, it scorches the roots, stopping them dead in their tracks.

They fall heavily to the ground, then, they, along with the rest of the roots from the point Serperior struckk the ground, wither and crumble away, as if they never were.

Trip glanced Polnareff's way with a proud smile, assessing his reaction.

More to come if he's interested! It'll be Serperior's turn to shine next.]

[And he most definitely is interested. Polnareff watches the demonstration eagerly, eyes darting between the two Pokemon as they move and twist. It's like two Stands sparring, really, and that comparison makes his heart ache as much as it brings him cheer.

When Trip looks towards him, he grins. That's rare for him nowadays, but the display is well worth it.]

Well done! Any others, or should I start applauding now?

Hold your applause! [He says it confidently, but he's actually a little bit scared of messing this up, he's never choreographed anything? He's not a Performer or Coordinator or anything! He decides he can't keep up with multiple Pokemon showing off, so Lampent get waved down to simply fly in place, Serperior gets a flicking, beckoning hand (he seems to use really broad, sweeping hand gestures a lot in giving commands, which is probably why he dropped his bag on the ground...).] Next up, Frillish!

[He calls out Frillish, this time an eerie, but also cute-looking creature that looks like a cross between a jellyfish the size of a human child and a fairy tale prince replete with a broad, frilled collar and a small crown. Its eyes are blue, blankly staring and unblinking, with red sclera and dainty lashes.

It swims in the air as if it's water, gliding quite effortlessly.]

Water Pulse!

[It brings up two of its frilled tentacles in front of it, forming an orb that quickly grows, filling with churning, turning water.]

Serperior, Dragon Tail!

[Serperior's tail glows white, sharpens, and when Frillish's Water Pulse has reached the appropriate size to launch Serperior's way, Serperior knocks it away with a strike of its tail that's almost too fast to see. The orb flies off and collides with a tree a little way off, surrounding the tree as though it were its target, locking it inside as waves crash around it in a pulsing manner, like being trapped in a miniature ocean at high tide. After thoroughly dousing the poor tree and shaking its branches rather roughly, the orb breaks and the water crashes out in all directions, before being swallowed up by the earth.]

Well, what do you think?

—I've actually got two more that battle and one that's still learning.

[The last one is more likely to hug Polnareff and try to make friends while ignoring any battling than battle without direct orders...]

[The demonstration itself is quite a show. Polnareff watches each Pokemon in fascination, their battle moves earning grins and claps as needed. Each move is a little stunning in its power, truthfully, and he wonders how well each one would fare in a true battle.

But it's the question, proud and yet eager for praise, that has him truly smiling. He's always liked kids; that trait, at least, the years haven't crushed.]

I think they've been taught very well. You've obviously trained hard with them.

[It isn't just mindless praise, either: he'd trained often enough with his Chariot to recognize someone who's done the same.]

How do you teach them?

[Despite the confident air, he blinks, looking stunned for a moment, cheeks colouring, then just breaks into a very bright smile, clearly touched.]

Uh-huh, we really did!

[Erk, speech slipped, a bit, and maybe he nodded a bit too eagerly saying that. Hands in pockets, straightening his back, raising his head to look proud and dignified again and not so... boyishly seeking approval.

(Do you see what easy prey this child is?)]

Most moves are learned as they level up, so we have to find and battle stronger and stronger opponents. It's absolutely vital to get stronger and learn more. Others require special training just to activate them. Serperior had to try and concentrate on focusing its power and striking at boulders with its tail for a long time before it could use Dragon Tail— it's a Grass Type, not a Dragon Type, so that kind of thing requires special training.

Vanillite was specifically bred for to hatch with a move it can't learn naturally, like Ice Shard— got that one by the mother breeding with a Snorunt. Inherited the ability from its father. Basic stuff.

One thing's the same, all moves are refined with practice

[Oh, right, he mentioned Vanillite without bringing it out— he casually take a pokeball out of his pocket, unshrinks it, and releases it at his hip, not tossing it this time.

This one is an unexpectedly adorable creature! It's the size of, perhaps, a teddy bear and looks about as darling. It honestly looks like soft-serve ice cream with an ice crystal-covered cone. And it immediately takes an interest in Polnareff, flying over with a wiiiide smile, breathing smoky-white puffs of air as though it carries winter's frost with it, leaving a trail of snowflakes in its wake.]

Edited (don't mix prose and action tags) 2016-09-23 04:41 (UTC)

[He bites back his laugh. God, he really is just a kid, isn't he? Intelligent, sure, and good at directing a fight, but still a kid. The arrival of Vanillite has him really grinning, though. Polnareff strokes two fingers against the pokemon, murmuring wordless praises for a few moments.

Focusing back on Trip, he says:]

I've a pretty good mind for tactics, if you ever want to learn some more.

[Because that seems to be what fighting with pokemon is: tactics, and directing his animals to fight to the best of their abilities. Pretty good isn't quite a fair description for what Polnareff can do, but he won't go around bragging to a kid.]

[Vanillite happily leans into the touch, giggling a bit, breath turning white as thiugh it were winter. The Pokemon is soft and certainly feels as though it were formed from ice and snow, and a few snowflakes might settle on his skin, his two fingers thinly coated with frost.

He likes Polnareff more and more! He'd be bothered if he actually knew he was being treated like a child, but as far as he knew, he was respectful without the aggressively overpowering aura Dio had. He did like the raw power Dio exuded, but Polnareff's subtler confidence wasn't offensive either. He suspected he was stronger, smarter than he let on!

He certainly felt safer to be around, which could only be a bad thing if that made him lower his defenses.

Polnareff's phrasing earns a few reactionary blinks and a funny sort of expression, as though he said something very strange:]

Of course! What sort of trainer would I be if I stopped learning? I'm still a long way from defeating that man, so I need to learn everything I can!

Teach me, please.

Edited 2016-09-25 05:18 (UTC)

Just like that?

[But it's not cruelly meant. Just a little surprised.]

Before I can teach you, I'll need to know a little more about you and your pokemon. My Chariot was based on speed and precision-- he fought with a blade, you see. Most of my initial lessons in tactics came from there. But applying those lessons to a pokemon that fights at long-range, or uses fire, or what have you, would be foolish.

Your Frillish seems based in water. I can guess that Vanillite is based along the theme of ice, hm? [He strokes the pokemon again, smiling as he does.] Serperior, you said, was based around . . . Grass? What does that mean, exactly?

[Vanillite wiggles a bit, fussing— it's had enough of petting and decides to blow frost onto the side of Polnareff's face. It seems to think that's funny... Trip hadn't noticed yet, frowning a little.]

I... never had anyone help me train, sorry. [That did seem to hurt him, but he tried to brush it off.]

You're right about the elemental attacks.

Serperior is bred for speed! Opponents can't follow its movements, so it's very good at sneak attacks. Primarily short-range, physical attacks. Frenzy Plant and Solar Beam are its long range attacks. What that one means is that Serperior can absorb energ from the sun and fire it at opponents. It's pretty strong! It can wrap its opponents tight too, strangle them into submission. It's very powerful! But its endurance... I didn't really train it for that.

Frillish... is Water, but also Ghost, and it's bred for overpowering strength, to induce helplessness.

Cursed Body means any attack that makes physical contact on its body is cursed. Sealed away for the rest of the battle, so the opponent can only land a hit with a physical attack once.
Hex increases damage on a Pokemon already suffering from confusion or poison or anything else. Night Shade locks the opponent in nightmarish visions in order to paralyze them...

Oh! Speaking of paralysis, Frillish naturally secretes a numbing, paralyzing poison from its tentacles. Its mostly used for hunting, when it needs to drag its prey underwater to consume its body... oh, and soul too. It eats human souls, like Lampent, you know.
That's why sailors consider them bad omens. Lampent's considered an omen of death too.

[He lists off these horrors with a surprisingly casual, conservational tone. He might've gotten a bit side-tracked... the Ghost Types definitely seem to be his favourites, after his partner, Serperior.]

... in fact, the only one with great defense is Vanillite. You know, it can take on fire head-on? It's pretty gutsy. All its attacks are long range and ice-based.

[Vanillite. Please. Polnareff waves a hand, not so much shooing it as trying to discourage that particular behavior. And as he does that, he listens, which . . . good grief. All of that information is fascinating, of course. Some of it is a bit creepy, and some of it is familiar, but all of it is interesting.

Better to just focus on one at a time. Polnareff nods towards Serperior.]

He sounds like the one I'm most familiar with, so why don't we start there?

[Not that he doesn't like the others.]

You said you didn't train him for endurance. Is there a reason for that, or is he simply not built for it?

There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

no subject

no subject

[heeee's not very polite about these things, sorry!]

no worries!

thanks for understanding!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry for the delay! ^o^;

no worries! I'm slow too

slow turtle party, where we're always (much more than) fashionably late! o/

no subject

aaaand he thinks Polnareff'll use him as a scapegoat :D;;;;

no subject

no subject

no subject

Amazing what one single symbol can do

no subject

... now I gotta wonder, what would you even need brainwashed babies for

it was such a weird episode i'm ngl

it sounds like a real trip...

no subject

no subject

no subject

[I apologize for his priorities]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[weeeeell, you asked for it]

no subject