Hey everyone! I haven't written in a long time, so finally I sat down and started a new story. It'll start off a bit slow, what with backstory and all at first, but I'm actually kind of proud of it. Um... really not much to say. Eventually it'll center around the two main characters in the Orre region and their mishaps involving Cipher, dead people and coming-of-age pokemon trainers. You know. It's a shameless self-insert, you could probably smell that a mile away, but I promise it'll be good.
Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon or anything else I reference herein.
"Ow!"
"Piss off!"
Groaning and trying to shuffle away from the fighting people in front of me, I was rewarded with a cold splash of beer in my face from yet another drunken man. The mosh pit was already a tightly-packed section full of loud and (not particularly interesting) characters from all walks of life, and the main act- Bisharp Idol- had barely even taken the stage. Dozens of aging rockers were already sloshing their drinks about and slurring the words to Mony Mony as they went along, most trying to push their way up to the front of the pack like a basculin swimming upstream. It was, admittedly, pretty damn uncomfortable, but me and my best friend were having the time of their lives. Not a single one of our friends could say they'd ever been to a concert this cool, especially not one featuring the same aging bad boy our moms all swooned over.
Ariel's throat was already sore from screaming for the opening act, which seemed horribly anticlimactic to me. Her coffee-colored hair was matted to her head by an excess of spilled drinks- somehow a horrible problem at this particular concert was keeping a drink in one's cup- and her favorite hoodie was soaked in orphaned beverages as well. I looked much the same, just with messier hair, and her father was nowhere in sight, probably lost in the back of the crowd as we leaned over the metal gate surrounding the stage. The band onstage was mesmerizing, and for once I didn't care that people were practically laying atop me to see or that it was extremely crowded. Next to me, Ariel took a swig of a stolen beer in a plastic cup and passed it to me. Ipolished it off and watched as the blonde-headed bad boy leaned froward towards the crowd and tossed a few picks into the pit, which several intoxicated ladies dove for. He shot a wink to no one in particular and continued singing, flashing the same trademark sneer he'd worn since the eighties.
This night was to mark my last day in Unova before me and my best friend were to fly overseas to Orre to live with my grandparents, and Ariel decided that there was no way we were going out without a bang- relative to the level of excitement in our lives we were used to, anyway. In the morning, Ariel and I would be up at seven and on the plane at ten. We'd say our tearful goodbyes and make the long flight to the "desert paradise, Agate village" for one whole year. Whatever chances of reform and "character building" they offered us in that little village were certainly of no interest to us as we watched the band play and shared another stolen beer. For us, this was the life and things in Castelia couldn't get any better for at least the next hour. After Bisharp Idol had packed up and moved on, everything would be back to normal in our world, shootings and stabbings and all, but for now this was paradise.
"Tee shirts. Come on," Ariel shouted at me above the noise of the crowd, pulling me back through the crowd by my wrist.
"Oh, as soon as we get up to the front of the crowd!" I complained loudly, sidestepping another drunk lady as my best friend yanked me up the trash-covered stairs that led behind the stage, where several vendors were lined up and a few people stood smoking quietly. Here it was quieter and felt more calm, and we could speak at a relatively normal volume. "Can't we just watch them play?"
"But there's no crowd now! It'll be a madhouse once they're done." Ariel walked up to the closest vendor, where a man with sandy blonde hair and a bit of stubble on his chin leaned against the counter waiting for customers.
"What can I do ya for?" he asked, perking up as she rested her elbows on the counter. Ariel pointed to a pink tee above his head with 'Bisharp Idol' printed in black across it and the image of a bisharp playing guitar on the bottom right.
"I'll take two of those, if you don't mind," she said. The guy grinned at her and pulled two out of an old blue bin behind him. Ariel handed him four thousand from her wallet and thanked him, handing the slightly larger one to me. Not that I was particularly fat or anything; I just liked my clothes to fit a little more loosely. We walked over to the bathroom situated directly behind the stage and changed shirts before making our way back down to the mosh pit in time for Rebel Yell to start.
The rest of the setlist went fast after we got up to the front of the crowd again. When all was said and done, our injuries were minimal- I had a bruised arm ,a sore throat from screaming, and a blackened eye from someone's flailing elbow. Ariel was a little worse for wear; her legs were bruised up from being kicked, made evident by her bermuda shorts, and another purple spot was visible on her hand, which was worth it for the dirty wristband she obtained from the guitarist. Each of us had had more than one beer by then and positively reeked of it anyway. Ariel's home was a little more than three blocks away from home, but it would take far longer than that walk for the leg-numbing buzz to wear off. Instead we opted for a quick, uncoordinated run through the Civic Center park across the street. Ariel whipped out her cell phone and sent her father a quick text message telling him we would be going home before dashing across the blocked-off street to the lush green lawn of the park. I followed with the glee of an eight year-old, heading for the playground we used to play at as kids. Drunken me had my sights set on the swing set and damned if I wasn't going to trip over everything on the way to it.
Ariel ran like mad for the slide, making it up the taller metal one before a pokeball came tumbling out her pocket. It landed on the rough bark chips covering the playground and popped open, releasing a sleepy looking Sam. The dewott blinked a few times and looked up to find Ariel laying on the metal platform, feet dangling over the sides of the slide, giggling at something or other.
"Hey," I called across the playground, "remember when we used to sneak out and go stargazing as kids?"
"No more of that in Agate," she answered , her tone suddenly much more dry. Sam grumbled to himself a bit and climbed the stairs leading up to the platform, taking a seat next to his trainer.
"Oh, don't remind me. Hey, what's Sam doing out?"
"Shoot." Ariel sat up immediately, groaning and putting a hand to her head immediately afterward. Sam gave her a curious glance and sniffed at her hair, wrinkling his nose at the stench of booze. "Sam, how'd you get out?"
He just shrugged and sat down beside her, yawning a bit. It was pretty late- around ten thirty, and definitely not the safest time to be out at night- but we didn't care.
"Hey," I said, jumping off the swing. I pulled the pokeball containing my partner pokemon, Hades, and flung it into the air. A tired zweilous emerged from it, less interested in fighting with itself than it was in curling up an a ball of glossy feathers and scales and going back to sleep. I sat down next to him, which seemed to alarm him a bit at first.
"Enjoy your last moments in Unova, Hades, at least for a while," I sighed, laying against him and smelling the almost avian scent- there was no other way to describe it, really- of his jet-black feathers. "Tomorrow it's off to the desert. Hey, Ariel, bet you can't still spot Cygnus the Swanna."
"Right above my head, you doof. I'm looking at it."
"Ursaring Major and Minor?"
"Pssh. Too easy. Right there." she pointed a wobbly finger at something, I figured, but I didn't care to look.
"Summer triangle?"
"You already asked about one of the stars in it, idiot."
"Oh." It was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember when we met?"
"We were seven," she laughed. It was a fond memory for the both of us. "We met right here. You were eating chocolate ice cream and I was pushing that one kid off of the slide... what was his name?"
"Oh jeez. Jonah, or something?" I ventured. "Then I sat under the slide and you came down and asked me what was wrong and offered me a bit of candy."
"Then I got mad because you didn't answer me."
"My mouth was full! I feel sorry for any mute kids you ever met." We both laughed at the memories of the innocent days before training pokemon, before Team Plasma or gangs or death or danger. Those were happy times, mostly.
We continued to make small talk for what seemed like forever. We watched the clouds move in the sky, lit up by the nearly-full moon, both afraid of what the next day held. It wasn't until I asked for the time that we discovered, to our horror, that it was nearly midnight.
"Oh crap! Crap, your mum is going to kill us!" I hissed, waking up Hades. Without a second thought I withdrew him back into his pokeball, still adorned with stickers we used to pretend were Sinnohan seals, and stood up. The buzz was nearly gone now, but we still reeked. Ariel did the same with the sleeping Dewott leaning against her shoulder, sliding back down to stand next to me.
"What are we going to tell her?" Ariel panicked.
"Nothing. Just tell her the truth, it's not like we did anything bad."
"It's past curfew!"
"Ariel. Chill." I turned to her. "We're going to be in Orre tomorrow, damn it. There's nothing she can really do."
That didn't seem to cheer her up at all. "I- oh, we're screwed... Let's just go home."
"I'm scared of what your dad is going to say."
The walk home- or so I called it, though I didn't live there- took a good five minutes longer than it needed to. Both of us dragged our feet back to the crowded bungalow house, afraid of the punishments that awaited us. The Flint family was a rather large one, and Ariel's mother and father were strict in every sense of the word. Her youngest brother's door- his door!- went missing for a week after Ariel's mother found a lighter left laying out on his desk, not that the eight year-old would have any reason to hide or use it. Her father, by all accounts the true disciplinarian, had the wooden spoon out and ready when John came down the hall for breakfast.
When we pushed the door leading into the house open, we were greeted with total darkness and an uncomfortable silence. Even with everyone sleeping, the house wouldn't have been this quiet. Ever. We bravely pushed on through the living room, tripping over some toy blitzle or another, and the narrow hall separating a small bathroom and two bedrooms, trying to sneak as quietly as possible into the kitchen. It was a tiny little space, with a small breakfast nook in the corner and the oven and fridge dominating most of the room. More out of habit than hunger, Ariel popped the fridge open to see what was inside, and the room filled with the ordinarily quiet humming noise that now sounded positively deafening. I cringed at the sound and bolted for the stairs leading down into the basement.
As I'd predicted, footsteps came hammering down the hallway and we looked up to find Ariel's father, in too-short shorts and a stained white tee, fuming and more than a little bit drunk. It was almost a comical sight; The man was a born Castelian, and it showed in his dark skin and black hair. He carried a thick accent when he spoke that seemed to put too much emphasis on the first syllable, but even better was his appearance. The man stood at not quite five feet tall and had a round beer belly and pudgy legs. His arms were hairy and muscular from his work in a local garage, and his booming, thunderous voice made evident any hearing problems he'd developed over the years.
"Where were you two?" he bellowed. If the whole house wasn't up from his footsteps, they sure were now. The crazy Castelian man plucked a frying pan from the pan holder above the stove and stared at us, eyes wide and frightening. "You're an hour late! I was home forever ago!"
"We got sidetracked!" Ariel screeched, backing towards the stairs where I still remained partially hidden. "Don't hit us!"
"Wha...? Why-" he looked at the steel skillet he had been waving around. "Oh."
"I'm sorry, we went to the park!" She continued. "We went to go watch the stars because it's our last night here-"
"Shut up! Some of us are trying to sleep!" Ariel's sister, Ashley, hollered from the basement. She was fourteen and moodier than any bouffalant ever had the potential to be. I turned and scowled at the short figure standing in the hallway looking up at us before returning my attention to Airel's father.
"I don't care why you went!" he replied. "You two know how dangerous it is around 'ere! And with all of those drunks from the concert running around... is that beer I small on you two?"
"Uh." Ariel panicked. "It was everywhere, people sloshing their drinks all over the place! It's impossible to not get any on you." Ariel took off her hoodie, which was still damp on the upper sleeve from spilled alcohol. She handed it to her father, who knew at once what she was talking about. The poor thing was covered in beer.
Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. Nice save, Ariel.
"You two go take a shower and get to bed," he sighed, finally quieting down. His stocky frame moved back into the small dining room space between the living room and the hall leading back to the other bedrooms. "We're gonna get up early tomorrow, so be ready. Hope you're all packed. And Aleise," He looked pointedly at me to let me know I wasn't off the hook either, "I'm gonna call your grandparents and tell them what happened tonight, and ask them to keep a close eye on the two o' you."
I nodded in the dark, hoping he could see me but too afraid to say anything. For being such a short little man, he was intimidating as all hell.
"'Night, dad," Ariel said, continuing towards the stairs. Her dad nodded and set the skillet down on the stove top.
"Shower and then straight to bed. You hear?" he said. "See you in the morning."
Ariel was first into the shower, and I waited in what had become our bedroom over the course of the last month. I was still sleeping on an old mattress on the floor, but it worked fine for me. I spread the contents of my suitcase out on my almost-bed and made sure I had everything: clothes, check. Books, check. School stuff, check. Pokemon items, check... we were good to go. I laid my favorite blue blazer, purple tee and scarf out on the edge of my bed, along with a pair of skinny jeans and my favorite ratty grey converse. Winter clothes in the summer, and in the middle of the desert? Yeah, I was a dork. Ariel had a more practical outfit laid out, another pair of simple bermuda shorts and an Aerodactylsmith tee shirt from the previous summer.
I must have fallen asleep before my best friend got out of the shower, because the next thing I knew it was six forty-five, the sun's rays were shining in my eyes and the whole house was in utter chaos.
First chapter done. Sorry, I know it's started off just a tad bit slow. This first chapter certainly wasn't very... pokemon-y. But I promise it'll pick right up in the next chapter. Stuck in a village full of old people with too much time on their hands? There will be pokemon battles, I guarantee. :D
R & R if you find the time. I'd really appreciate it. C: