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| Topic Started: Oct 4 2007, 07:42 PM (202 Views) | |
| Coyote | Oct 4 2007, 07:42 PM Post #1 |
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Pidgey
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"You're a pretty little dish, Lady Hillmoss," Angela Kent murmured into the morning. "Everything about you has an allure, a kind of draw. That diamond dew you throw on every morning. That hint of flower and rain on you for some poor gee to get a whiff of as you walk past. That come-hither call that could steal a man's breath away. 'You're an angel,' they tell ya, 'you're a doll.' A face made for pictures--and I'd bet a pretty zeni your looks have graced a few." She pulled away from the dusty windowsill and slumped against the wall, the butt of a candy cigarette in her teeth and the remnants of yesterday's root beer crushed in her hand. She kept promising herself that she'd kick the sugar habit, and honestly she would--tomorrow. However, it would seem that self-ordained priestess she called "Mother" was determined to free Angela of all her vices today; after a thorough and frantic search through her entire room, Angela found nearly all of her hard-earned candy stash and sodas had been thrown in the trash in a glorious revival of Prohibition. Glumly, she chewed through the rest of her cigarette and tossed the can of soda upon her bed. "You don't gotta go out to town, Lady Hillmoss, 'cause you're the type of dame that makes the town come to you. And you laugh and laugh, an airy little noise, as you welcome more and more flies into your parlor. Bat your eyes! Play some music! Pour some spirits for the gentlemen and keep laughing because you, doll, you got it all. Anything you want. You could give any gee a look and he'd be dizzy with you in a second." With a world-weary sigh and a mighty effort, Angela pushed off the wall and stumbled towards her dresser. Roskette and Valentine, her two faithful holy water guns, sat waiting for her in their holster, and soon Angela had pulled the equipment about her waist. She glanced into the mirror. Her collared white button-up shirt had the miraculously low number of three grass stains rubbed into the cloth, her black jeans understandably showed none, and both her black tie and fedora were on quite straight. She was ready. "But, my little lady, perhaps I spoke too soon. You really don't got everything, see? There's still one thing you can't keep in your parlor, see?" Angela declared, her beady eyes gleaming as she ambled to the door. She stepped out into the hallway, and as her pale, freckled face twisted into a sneer back at her bedroom, she hooked her door with her sneakered foot and closed it behind her. "Me." The thud of the door settling into its frame resounded all down the hallway. Angela reveled in it. She wanted the world to hear. "You may have won over my mother and all the poor saps in this town, but honey, I'm dusting outta this joint--this life--and all you can do is watch me go." Down the stairs she went. Her pack, carefully stocked the night before, was right by the front door. She shouldered it readily and flung upon the door to the outside world. "And there's nothing you can say to stop me." "Don't I even get get a hug?" Angela faltered mid-step and peered outside. Her mother had been waiting on the porch, misty-eyed yet smiling proudly, for her daughter to come out. "Moooom," Angela groaned, yet relented and threw her arms around her mother's waist, "you're ruining my monologue!" A knowing sigh. "Dear, I'm letting you out into the world, where plenty of people would take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl, on the sole basis that you want to train a pokemon and save the world from- What is it, werewolves?" "Ninjas and aliens, too. Come on now, I told you the rumble a week ago." Angela rolled her eyes and began to fidget in the hold. "Uh-huh. Well, regardless, I deserve this hug. Oh, and please, please don't get the rabies from those pokemon," her mom added as a hasty afterthought. Though still holding on, she pulled back briefly to look behind Angela's ears and ensure the collar of her shirt was folded down uniformly. "Is there anything else you need before you go?" "Well, if you'd let me bring along like one soda-" End embrace. "Oh no, I think I heard a werewolf. Go get 'em, tiger," her mother said dryly and gave Angela's frizzy red ponytail a yank. "Thanksmombye!" Yelping and taking as much dignity with her as she could, Angela scrambled off the porch. Unfortunately, the entire incident made her lose her place in her monologue, so she had to skip to the end prematurely. "Er, r-right. So, Lady Hillmoss, I bid you adieu." And with that, Angela headed off towards the lab to get her pokemon. She would finish up her business in town, and then she was gone. Seven years late was better than nothing. |
Profile - Monsters and Fedoras | Journey - Casing the Joint (Hillmoss Grasslands, Hilly Area 1) Gen EXP: 10.1 | APL: 6.5 Current Case: Seeking out a mysterious, rattata-terrorizing, organization of pokemon. However, aliens interrupt! | |
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| Fordy | Oct 6 2007, 06:35 AM Post #2 |
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ain't no new thing
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The morning was a beautiful one for walking, the sun was just above the treetops, the dew was glistening in the sunrise, providing the perfect strolling opportunities on your way to the gym. There was little that could ruin this little trip, unless you counted, well, a trip. As you began to walk away, your foot caught what felt like a log that was definitely no there before. You fell to the ground, looked around quickly in the hope that no one had noticed, and rose blushingly as a flurry of laughs from behind ensured that someone would remember this. You looked for the culprit, it appeared to be an open window. Ah, it was your mother. "Sorry honey, but that's just too funny!" She got out between laughs. You managed a half-hearted smile, and looked for what you tripped over. A small log. But next to it, what was that? A bag? You opened it, and after a quick count of its contents, you shoved the 4000z, PokeTech, and Escape Rope into your pocket, you looked back to the window. Your mom waved to you, and you knowingly continued on to the lab. |
541 ![]() oh! sweet nuthin'APL: 5 | |
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