preybeforemeals | 001. [Action for New Bark/Video]

001. [Action for New Bark/Video]

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well, he's not exactly unfamiliar with the concepts of shrieks ringing out through the formerly quiet streets of wherever-the-hell-we-are-now; while normally that's a sign to avoid whatever's happening in that area unless he's positive whatever fight is happening over there is one that he can win, this place is about as far removed from the 20th Ward as one can get. Screams might actually be a good thing here - then again, they might not, but there's only one way to find out, so. Off to check out the lawn he goes!

...

And that was not what he was expecting, what the hell. All right, let's assess the situation.

1. That sure is a six-foot bananasaur.
2. I mean there's also a damsel in distress, but if she gets mauled by the six-foot bananasaur that is not precisely Tsukiyama's problem...
2a. ...he thinks. Standing here doesn't make him an accessory or something, does it?
3. ...Anyway. While the damsel getting eaten by the bananasaur is not precisely Tsukiyama's problem, the bananasaur may then actually become his problem, assuming it is not satisfied with whatever it is about to do with the damsel.
4. ...the damsel may actually solve several of Tsukiyama's problems at once now that he thinks about it right okay daring rescue is go

by which we mean jumping into the same general vicinity in an attempt to make it plain that the stupid thing is going to be fighting two people, though he's not exactly shielding he is rather clearly here to do something

...he is designed to out-tank things and he has a healing factor back home, this woman is the best goddamn candidate for dinner he's seen all day, also that dinosaur is ridiculous and made partially of fucking bananas

there is no way this is going to go badly]

Are you all right, mademoiselle?

[woman don't you dare complicate things by hitting him with that stick]

[You know, there are probably classier reasons to rush to someone's rescue than "you look good enough to eat", but when actively being advanced upon by a six-foot bananasaur, this particular damsel is not about to start complaining.]

Oh!

[Alas, the mighty backwards shuffle she's doing is regrettably made complicated by 1) fright and 2) the general infeasibility of doing so in a skirt like that, and she does end up taking a spill (rather elegantly, admittedly) to the ground; even so, it gives her a moment to take slightly better stock of both her current situation and her brightly-colored dandy of a rescuer

and let's be real if that bananasaur were actually hostile somebody would be mauled by now.

As it is, the aforementioned bananasaur has paused in its advance, and is now looking quizzically at this oddly-colored secondary human that has just appeared on the scene, and who while not precisely antagonistic in stance is still threatening to get between her and her precious daughterperson, who has just fallen down and may be injured and somebody really needs to attend to that, please desist, sir.]

It just— it came out of nowhere, what is that?!

[..."It" is patiently minding its own business craning its long banana-adorned neck trying to figure out if you hurt yourself taking a swan dive into the grass, dear.]

I don't know, I haven't seen anything like it be-

[...fore...

Okay, so the bananasaur is getting all up in her business but it doesn't seem to be trying to maim her, but at the same time this is kind of

honey, are your survival instincts just completely dead or what]

...You...are aware that you have a weapon in hand if you want it to stop doing that...?

[Let's just encourage her to hit a dinosaur in the face with a stick because that is just joining the quickly-lengthening list of things that cannot possibly turn into a problem, shall we?]

[...The fuck kind of rescuer are you, sir, are you seriously just going to run in, make a token chivalrous gesture, survey the situation, and then proceed to exasperatedly start coaching the aforementioned damsel through Self-Help 101.

Seriously.]

I don't, it doesn't have th—!

[...Now, that's a strange thing to say.

UNFORTUNATELY, OUR HERO MAY NOT HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO CONTEMPLATE THE POSSIBLE INTRICACIES OF WHY THAT IS STRANGE

AS HIS WORDS HAVE JUST DRAWN THE ATTENTION OF THE BANANASAUR

Bananamom does not like the tone you are taking with her little girl, sir. ~~Tropius can't even learn Scary Face WHERE DID THIS ONE COME FROM~~]

[...look, his life philosophy is literally "if you die then you probably deserve whatever it was you got"

helping you learn to help yourself is literally the best thing he canOH GOD HELLO THERE BANANASAUR]

Well then.

[If he's truly bothered by the bananasaur's sudden glaring, he's not showing it; if anything, he's smiling a bit, though the expression is a bit odd. He's quick to raise his hands in the universal I DON'T HAVE A WEAPON gesture, and amusement aside his tone is quick to shift as though conceding whatever point the stupid dinosaur is trying to make.]

All right, all right, we won't hit you - dear, you might not want to hit it - we just ask for a bit of space, that's all. You're a rather imposing creature and everything, the poor girl is scared out of her mind.

[Okay, so if talking to this thing doesn't work we may have to resort to "grab the girl and run," but he's done dumber things in the past.]

[Well.

...It appears, upon reflection, that this logic seems reasonable enough to Bananamom, who in her overwhelming maternal concern had evidently not considered the fact that someone might actually be afraid of a six-foot-tall hundred-kilogram dinosaur with bananas dangling from its throat. Granted, it's a pretty silly thing to be afraid of all things considered, but...well, people are indeed a bit small and frail (hence the need to eat more bananas), so it's probably understandable that they might have an awkward reaction to that sort of thing.

...

Well, all right, have a bit of space, then. She'll just go tidy up all the things that spilled out of her ward's backpack when she apparently dropped it.

Meanwhile, the aforementioned ward is still just kind of. Gripping that cane, white-knuckled, and pretty obviously just kind of stalling out a moment or seven while she tries desperately to put all of this into some kind of context that makes any rational sense at all.]

[...You know, he wasn't expecting that to actually work, but complaining is the last thing he's going to do right now.

Just let him approach that poor white-knuckled girl down on the ground, then; he'll get...a bit more on her level so he's not just standing over here, because that's more than a little awkward, isn't it.]

Are you hurt at all?

[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.

[...Right.]

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

[He glances over at the bananasaur over there.]

...experience.

[...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.

[...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...?

[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!

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

[You tried, honey.]

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.]

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

[...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...?

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

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?

[...are you serious.]

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

[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.

[...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.

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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