001. [Action for New Bark/Video]

[preybeforemeals]

[ACTION]

[It would be very, very easy to have some sort of meltdown over this.

Really, if anything he'd think it would be warranted; he's not supposed to be here, he has no clue who this woman was earlier but she most definitely is not his mother, and the fact that she'd responded to his questioning by trying to sit him down and make him lunch (which he had immediately refused, but he had accepted the coffee, and she made startlingly good coffee) had done exactly nothing to assuage the sense that something is horrifically wrong here. However, it seemed that the field in which Mom grows her fucks is utterly barren, and he'd ended up locked outside before too long.

At least she'd let him keep the coffee.

So there was that, and there had been a brief moment of rage at the door before he'd settled himself, running his free hand back through his hair and muttering something under his breath; come on, Tsukiyama, you've handled worse than this. Calm down. Don't react to it. Be cool.

The rest of the day had been given to the locals; they were surprisingly helpful if you asked the right questions, even if what they'd told him had been completely inane. They seemed rather interested in assisting him in preparing for this...journey he was supposed to be on, even if no one really knew why he was supposed to be on it; asking about that had just gotten a lot of "well, that's just what we do."

It seemed this place was a little backwards.

So. Panicking was going to get him nowhere, this journey would presumably get him...somewhere, logically there was really only one thing to do with that knowledge.

Late afternoon would find him sitting on a low wall outside of one of the incredibly few buildings in town; he's got the bag he'd received from Mom sitting at his feet, and he has the Trainer Handbook out across his lap. He's a bit hard to miss given his, uh, attire, but he seems to have pulled a pen from somewhere and he's apparently contenting himself with making notes in the margins of that book he's going through.

Sure, he's gripping that pen a bit too hard and those notes are getting downright ugly with the force with which he's writing them, but he's perfectly fine, thank you very much. One of the few respectable people to arrive today, from the look of it. Totally calm. Completely calm. He's fine.

...yeahno he's wound tightly enough to jump approximately half a mile if he's approached, but at least he's putting an effort in.]



[VIDEO]

[Some time that evening, however, he actually finds the general coherency required to address the network; it takes him a while to work out whether he really wants to attach his physical appearance to the message - old habits die hard, after all, and he runs in several societal circles where keeping your appearance to yourself is literally a matter of whether you're fond of staying alive or not - but after a while...well, if there's someone else here that he actually wants to know about, this would probably be the fastest way to get their attention. So. Video it is.]

Ah, hello there! It's a pleasure to meet you all, even if it's not in person - it seems that several of us are in the same...distressing situation. I mean, the locals don't seem very fazed by it, they were very kind to me, but I still found it a bit unsettling that they don't seem bothered by what looks like a mass kidnapping to me. Am I to understand that this is just a misunderstanding, or...?

[...]

...But we don't have to discuss that if you don't want to! I'd just like to hear a bit more about the other people who have found themselves here. It's been a very long day, you see, and I'd like having someone to talk to; I'd ask if any of my friends are here, but I'm positive they would have contacted me already if they were.

[ugh, he can only handle doing so much more of this chirpy bullshit before he makes himself positively sick; normally it's not a problem at all, but given the circumstances he is really not here for this today -

He glances offscreen somewhere before he continues speaking; he doesn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular, it seems he's just trying to find something to look at.]

So tell me about yourselves, if you don't mind! Where you came from, what sorts of things you can do there. I've heard that some people have gone through some charming transformations lately...is that something we're supposed to blindly accept as well...?

I've heard some interesting stories, and read many more; this place is almost like a storybook itself, really. But it's just poor writing to expect this much suspension of disbelief from one's audience, captive or not.

Comments

[occultigen]

[Clearly the bananasaur is more intelligent than previously anticipated.

Meanwhile — though it does take it a minute to register, it seems — the young lady does at least seem somewhat appreciative of the question. Probably because it's a simple one, with something of an implied imperative — check and see if you're injured — and thus quite easy to satisfy.]

I-I don't...think so...

[No, of course, she'd know it if she were, wouldn't she? Because her injuries wouldn't close up, the bleeding wouldn't stop, that awful hunger would rise and—

She didn't mean for a slight noise, half-gasp and half-whimper, to escape her, but it does, and she quickly covers her mouth.]

No, I...I think I'm f-fine. [Pause. Manners.] Y-Yes, thank you, I do think I'm all right.

[preybeforemeals]

[...Right.]

You're certain? You've been through quite the...

[He glances over at the bananasaur over there.]

...experience.

[occultigen]

[...Well, that's just the understatement of the century, isn't it?

It's as though hearing someone else say it, to give voice to a simple statement of fact that up until now has always either gone unstated or unacknowledged, somehow opens the floodgates of recognition that yes, yes, she really has been through quite the experience, and it has nothing to do with the fright the...admittedly rather docile monster has just given her.

She's supposed to be dead. She's supposed to be dead and yet she's woken up from it — again — and there are so many things wrong with that unsettling realization that in a way it almost makes her terror at the creature seem foolish.

She's crawled back out from her grave again. Doesn't that mean more people will have to die?

To think, of all the awful things, her mother—]

It's only a bit of a fright.

[No...no, she'll put it away and be brave for right now. There's a gentleman here, and it'd be unseemly to cry herself a mess out in the open like this, and in front of a stranger besides.

Later, she'll worry about the biggest of the questions later, for now it'll be so much more of a relief to fuss about normal, simple, small ones instead.]

...Though I hope I didn't tear my dress when I fell, bother.

[preybeforemeals]

[...there we go. Let's be concerned over reasonably inconsequential things together, shall we? It's better than handling...well, everything else, and he's certainly got his share of "everything else" to concern himself with. Not dwelling on it sounds lovely; for now he just sort of smiles at the comment regarding the dress.]

It'd be a tragedy if you had, amore, it's lovely.

[He straightens up then, brushing himself off a bit before extending a hand in her direction, as though to help her up.]

I don't believe I caught your name among everything else...?

[occultigen]

[It's borrowed, she's tempted to say, but really, it's hard to say what would be more mortifying — admitting to a secondhand dress, or having someone think she thought it appropriate to be out in the daytime in one intended for the evening.

...This sort of fretting is so much simpler than the available alternatives.]

I didn't pick it out for myself, but I'm pleased you like it.

[...Better to leave it vague; if he's a gentleman he'll assume whatever's most in her favor and that will be that.

Meanwhile, she hesitates a moment before taking his offered hand, but then quickly does so and manages to get herself back to her feet quite gracefully for someone who'd just taken a spill. Her hand is a trifle cold, she's sure, but at least it's appropriately white for polite company.

...Speaking of which...]

And it's true that there's no one to offer a proper introduction, but I should think you might still be polite enough to offer yours first!

[preybeforemeals]

You're hardly in any position to call me rude, after all of that.

[You tried, honey.]

[occultigen]

Then don't behave as such, and I won't!

[Well, she's upright now, so she'll just pull her hand away as well, thank you very much.]

[preybeforemeals]

You're one to talk. Shall I leave you to your dinosaur, then?

[occultigen]

[...Oh. Yes, there still is that business, isn't there.

Erm.]

...I don't suppose you'd be so good as to take it with you when you leave...?

[preybeforemeals]

Where did that horrid thing come from in the first place?

[occultigen]

I don't know...I was only trying to make my bag a bit lighter, if I'm really to carry it, and then all of a sudden...

[...That.

Speaking of the bag in question, Bananamom's got it mostly gathered up by now, save for the red-and-white ball which is of course still in the grass.

Which means our heroes are now treated to the rather cute sight of a Tropius with a backpack dangling delicately from its mouth.]

Why...! What are you doing with that?

[preybeforemeals]

[...are you serious.]

If I had to guess, "helping." Or at least making an attempt.

[occultigen]

[Meanwhile, she's just going to go pick up that ball, given that it doesn't seem as though the banana monster is anything but friendly, so...perhaps it'll be all right, after all.]

I don't recall seeing this in there. Perhaps it fell out?

[...]

It can't be yours, I suppose, it was there before you ran up.

[preybeforemeals]

[...Oh. Oh, goodness, that thing makes the entire thing more than a bit stupid, doesn't it - he's quick to reach into his own bag, which he'd had the presence of mind to not simply ditch back by the wall earlier, and retrieve his own horrendously-colored capsule from one of the pockets.]

This one is mine, actually.

[He glances rather pointedly at the bananasaur once that's out there.]

Which implies that if I'm not mistaken, that is yours.

[occultigen]

Mine!

[...Well, that would explain the...friendliness...

...except that the logic is gradually working itself out right now and if the little capsule is somehow tied to the creature, and the creature was not there but suddenly was there as the result of the little ball...

Surely he's not suggesting something that big came out of such a little ball, it's outright absurd.]

I don't understand. You can't mean this little ball... —well, what happens when yours opens?

[preybeforemeals]

Do you really want to see, or would you prefer I just describe it to you?

[occultigen]

[..............]

You make it sound as though it's something awful.

[Like seriously, what is it, a nine-foot snake?]

[preybeforemeals]

She's well-behaved, but "awful" is about right, actually.

[occultigen]

...It seems you've a bit more idea of what all this is about than I do.

[She hesitates a moment, as a flicker of uncertainty crosses her face.]

I...hope you'll accept my apology, for what I said a few minutes ago. It was kind of you to help me, and I never properly thanked you for that, either.

I'm very sorry. I'm not sure what's happened, but I don't think I'm where I ought to be at all.

[preybeforemeals]

[And he's quiet for a moment at that - not a terribly long moment, mind, but the sudden apology has caught him off-guard and it's obvious. He's not sure what to do with the sudden gratitude, either; the last time he'd tried to help someone with...well, anything, it hadn't gone well, and from the sound of it this conversation is veering into topics that he's not entirely sure what to do with and this whole thing is kind of a roiling mass of DEAR GOD, HOW DO I NAVIGATE THIS SOCIAL SITUATION, SOMEONE SEND HELP.

But after a moment he just shrugs, and he's smiling again as usual, and everything is perfectly fine.]

You aren't the only one - perhaps a bit of irrationality on everyone's part is to be expected, since I'm not from around here either.

Shuu Tsukiyama, by the way. It's a pleasure.

[occultigen]

I'm very much in your debt, Mr. Tsss...

[Please take pity on her, she is used to pronouncing surnames like "Hardwick" and "Rotterdale", this one is a little beyond her and the last thing she wants is to just stumble her way through every phoneme like a rube.]

Mr. Tsukiyama.

[Her effort was Herculean and mostly correct. SHE TRIED.]

I am Miss Meridiana Everett. I hope it would not be too forward to presume that you are not...from London?

[preybeforemeals]

[He's more than a bit amused at that, but holy hell did she try.]

You're the second person to ask me that today, actually - but no, no, I'm from Tokyo.

A good distance from London, to put it gently.

[occultigen]

[Aha. Well, that excuses the riotous colors and patterns, then. He's clearly not up on London fashion, adhering instead to his own.]

Tokyo is the city where the Emperor resides, is it not? The capital of Japan. It is a goodly distance from London, indeed, but souvenirs do sometimes make the long travel back to the city, and they're quite in fashion.

[preybeforemeals]

That would be it, yes, though I've never been to the specific ward you're referring to - the one with the Emperor's residence, that is.

[...Do you just...not get out much, or...

...

Given everything that's happened today, he's just going to assume she doesn't get out much.]

[occultigen]

I've only seen a few pictures before, in some of the albums. But I'm sure it must be a lovely place to reside.

[That's polite enough, surely.

But then, a minute later, something occurs to her.]

But you must be quite well-traveled, otherwise; you called me mademoiselle earlier.