The Callous Adventure of Travis Thorn
Author's Note: Week before B/W2 comes out: "Wow, I have next to no homework this week. But you know what that means: mountains of it next week, making it even harder to beat W2!"
Week B/W2 came out: "Wow... still no homework... Cool!"
Week after B/W2 came out, also the week after I beat it: "SWEET BEJEEZUS I'M SUFFOCATING." Oh well, that's a lot better than the alternatives.
To anyone that wants to read this without reading the original (The Sardonic Adventure of Briar Casey, sorry I can't link, Fanfiction doesn't let you do that)... I highly recommend that you read it. There are alot of references to it in here, and it might be harder to get if you don't read it. If that turns you off, I'm very sorry.
To all of you that have read the original, welcome back! A lot of old characters are making cameos here, so I hope you enjoy them.
If you haven't read the original, I warn you now: I hate battles. I don't like reading them. I REALLY don't like writing them, so I will avoid them at all costs. So if you like Pokemon fanfiction so you can read battles, this probably isn't for you.
So I loved the game. I didn't like it as much as the original, but I didn't expect to, and I was actually fairly surprised that I liked it so much, considering my very high expectations. After all, for the three months before it came out, I was all but jumping everywhere and squealing "IT'S ALMOST HERE! IT'S ALMOST HERE!" I loved the game, though, and I'm incredibly happy to write this fanfiction for it.
Note: John's hair looks like Denmark's from Hetalia. I described it the way Prussia did because I loved it :}
Now that this ungodly long author's note is done, I suppose I'll get started :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.
As a Pokemon, Snivy is rather lackluster. Their Attack is pitiful, and their move pool has next to no good moves until it learns Leaf Blade, and even then the Pokemon is disadvantaged. Overall, the only edge it really has is its Speed and Defense, but it is lax in most other categories.
But nobody told the Snivy that, so they go on being the awesome reptiles that we shall always use.
Prologue
The Slacker, the Beauty, and the King
I have a self-proclaimed king on my left, and a girl so beautiful people stop in the street and stare on my right. I'm not outgoing or good-looking (like I care either way), so no one really looks at me. But sometimes, for brief, slow-motion moments in time, their gazes would shift and they'd see me, the apathetic slacker walking between the arrogant, innocent blonde and the free spirit.
But there was no place I'd rather be, because he had been my best friend since infancy and I loved her so much that I'd grown accustomed to the pain that would come from watching her lovely lavender eyes crinkle when she smiled.
Even as a baby I wasn't especially expressive. My mother likes to joke that I never cried, since I never cared enough to let the tears go. Because I was the quietest baby in town, I was equivalent to winning the lottery to Aspertia's babysitting industry. They would line up to watch me (it was the last time girls lined up to do anything with me), but in the end I got assigned to a fourteen-year-old named Cadence, who I hear has gone on to work in Poke Star Studios.
But one day, she got a surprise job from the Arciss family, who asked if she could watch over their son John. She agreed and we shared a sitter that night.
I was doing as I normally did: sitting around, emotionless, indifferent to what other babies liked. Suddenly, a slightly older boy who already had the most ridiculous hair I'd ever seen tottered up to me and plopped down right in front of my face. After studying me more intently than should be capable of a boy his age, he dramatically lifted his index finger and pointed it at himself, then bellowed a single word:
"King."
Are you referring to yourself? my baby self thought. Because you are very incorrect in that statement if that is indeed the case. Being a "king" implies reigning over a certain area as well as being cloaked in riches, but the brown stain on the bottom of that one-sy suggests that it was donned in a crib with hand-me-downs rather than the royal wardrobe.
Or, I'm sure I said something to that effect.
Either way, I didn't particularly care if this ignorant child wanted to pretend he was the almighty ruler of some imaginary land, so I merely shrugged and mentally willed him to go away. I had no such luck. In fact, the kid puffed up like a Qwilfish and repeated himself, louder:
"KING. KING KING KING."
Alright, I understand, you wish to be referred to as one of authority despite your complete and total lack of it, rather than have the response of my indifferent body languages. Fine.
"Yes." I said, spitting the word out so I could get it over with quickly. I didn't much care for talking, and I bet you're just paralyzed with shock. John seemed to appreciate my simple statement, though. His face lit up like a Litwick and he began to bounce as he gurgled happily.
What an odd speciman baby me thought, but that was the beginning of what some might say was a beautiful friendship.
"Hey Travis!" I sighed and turned around, knowing who it was already. John, who seemed eternally indebted to me for being the first person to call him by his imaginary title, is now my best friend. By that point we were ten years old and he was able to immediately gain authority over all those around him simply by being charismatic. Everyone seemed to call him King now, even the adults, who thought that it was cute. I was kind of glad; with everyone else saying it, he didn't notice when I desisted calling him the ridiculous and completely false nickname.
"Hi."
"Guess what?"
"You know I'm not going to guess."
"That's okay, lucky for you, you've got me around!"
"Notice how I shiver with excitement."
"There's a new girl in town," John explained, running his hands excitedly through his blonde hair. Though it was still weird, he was gradually growing into the bedhead style that he seemed to be going for. But you'd never really know with him. "She moved into that big house, right before where Route 19 begins. I hear she's really cute." He said the last bit as polished as a perverted teenager would. He worried me sometimes.
"Okay."
"Arceus, come on, let's go see her!" He hooked his arms into mine, which was buried in my pockets and I let him drag me to the house right by the gate that lead to the aforementioned route. He was about to knock when the door opened from the inside and a little girl recoiled at the two boys in front of her.
There was a surge of something completely foreign to me as I looked at her. Her skin was pale, almost as white as a pearl, and her black, wavy, shimmering hair (which was tied back in a braid at the time) contrasted it well. Her little fist curled over her mouth as a rosy stain dispersed across her lovely pearl cheeks, and it was in that moment that I saw her eyes. Oh, what lovely eyes. They were the color of Espeon, a Pokemon that my uncle had, but the colorful irises seemed to always be moving and glinting, as if the timid exterior was simply a ruse and on the inside she was thinking, yearning, moving every muscle in her body. This turned out to be true.
"Hi!" John greeted, loudly, startling the girl. She was wearing a grey dress and clung to its hems.
"Hello, nice to meet you," she said robotically. My eyes narrowed, though only an observant person would've noticed. She didn't actually believe that.
"I'm John, and this is Travis!" my best friend continued, and it began to really occur to me how many exclamation marks he used when he talked. I felt his elbow dig into my rib and I realized the girl was looking at me. Her eyes were even prettier when they were looking at me, but at the same time that surge of something swept over me again, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to reply in as stoic a voice as I wanted to.
"Hi." I had nothing to be worried about.
"We're your neighbors," John continued, marring any chance for conversation. "We just wanted to say hi, and welcome you, and do all that stuff good neighbors do. Hey, wait, I didn't knock, were you looking for something?"
"I was looking for the overlook, sir," she explained in the same robotic voice. I tensed again at this fake form of politeness; John glowed at being called "sir."
"We can take you there!" he exclaimed, grabbing her wrist and dragging her towards Aspertia's pride and joy. "It's really something, I promise ya! A bit of a hassle to get to, since there's all those stairs, but worth the trip overall. Look, there it is!" The girl's jaw dropped at what was said to be a spectacular view of Route 19. Frankly, it just looked like a regular view to me. Not like Route 19 was much to look at, anyway.
"It's so pretty!" she squealed excitedly before covering her hand with her mouth. "Forgive me, that wasn't very proper."
"We don't care if you're proper," I told her, and she spun around to face me. In the process, however, the rubber band holding her braid in got caught on the fence and she winced in pain. I rushed over to help and was eventually able to coerce the band from her hair (it was like touching black silk.) In the process, the entire braid came undone and her hair was shown in all of its glory, long and wavy and beautiful.
"My hair is never down," she breathed. John and I looked at each other, puzzled. Then, she laughed. "I feel so free!"
"You should always feel free!" John told her, flashing his signature grin. "Freedom is good!"
"Yeah," I agreed, a tinge of emotion escaping.
"What's your name?" my friend asked.
"L-" She stopped, rubbing her chin. "No, I don't want that name now. It sounds so formal. You can call me... um... Tobee!"
Tobee. The name sent shivers down my spine, and it would do so until the end of my days.
Tobee grew to fit in quite well, often rebelling against her parents (who tried to smother every trace of creativity and freedom) and encouraging her little sister Erica to do the same. She never let anyone utter her birth name; she had shed it like her old, restricted self. She turned into a different person; her hair was always down, her clothes became either colorful or leather (her favorite outfit became a white shirt, a cropped leather jacket, jeans, and combat boots), and she was a free-spirit.
Besides Tobee and John, my favorite person in Aspertia (I wasn't fond of most people in our town) was Ms. Hannah. She never said her last name, but that made our friendship more personal. She wasn't a sweet old lady (she was still fairly young), but she was sweet nonetheless. She moved in right before I turned thirteen, but I wish she would've come sooner.
"Who's this?" John would ask, wiping drool from his mouth as he chomped on some sort of cookie while looking at a picture.
"That's my daughter," she'd say, not looking at it.
"She's pretty. Where is she now?"
"She's back in my old town."
"Why didn't she move with you?" Tobee prodded.
"We... don't need each other anymore." Then she'd smile and continue: "You three remind me of her and some of her friends, though."
"Is that why you like us so much?" Tobee would snort.
"And you're likeable. You're too hard on yourself."
She'd say that every time we came. We reminded her of her daughter and some of her friends.
"You should read more," Tobee told me one day as we looked over Route 19.
"That's a bit random."
"Well, you're not going to do sports or train or anything like that, but reading just requires looking at words. You need to do something."
"No I don't," I replied, closing my eyes and leaning against the fence. "Besides, where would you get a book?"
"The Trainer's School."
"Those are all training books. I don't care about those."
"You don't care about anything. You don't give a crap. What if I found you a good book?"
"Sure, I'll read it, if it's good." I'd do anything for you. "But you won't find anything."
"Oh, challenge accepted."
That night, I heard pebbles as they tapped against my window. Judging by the ample light dawn had provided for me, I judged that it must be very early morning. Another pebble smacked my window, more aggressively. I sighed and opened it. The air couldn't seem to decide if it was cool, like nighttime, or somewhat warm, like morning.
But what hit me more was a book, thrown right at me from below.
"READ IT," Tobee bellowed. "READ IT WITH YOUR FACE."
"MY FACE MIGHT NOT WORK NOW," I yelled right back, but she was already trotting away. How did she get it so quickly, and how long had she been looking for it to give it to me so early? I sighed, knowing that I'd never be able to understand her, for I wasn't of the same quality as her. I flipped the book over and read the title: The Sardonic Adventure of Briar Casey. I recalled hearing this name, somewhere. I didn't want to read. But I told Tobee that I would, so I got back under my covers and opened it to the first page.
"Do you like the book, Travis?" Tobee asked with a smug grin.
"That's ridiculous, Travis doesn't like anything," John reasoned. But Tobee was the winner of this argument; it was obvious just by looking at me that I was completely engrossed in the autobiography. I was just at the part where Briar and Cilan were travelling through Twist Mountain.
"Shhhhhhhh," I said, not wanting their worthless blathering to interrupt this exquisite adventure.
When we were fourteen, the three of us were finally able to go to the Trainer School's dance. Naturally, John had three dates by the day after his birthday. His hair had completely grown in, and I don't know how he made it look so awesome. It was like he put hairspray in before bed, slept only on one side, and woke up with it sticking everywhere. Sounds weird, right? But it wasn't. It was awesome. I didn't care about the dance, however, which I hope doesn't surprise anyone anymore.
"I'm not going," Tobee declared, which also didn't surprise that many people. "I had enough of dresses when I was little."
"I like dresses," her little sister Erica put in, somewhat timidly. From the look in her sister's eyes, I could tell my friend was making a mental note to psychologically beat that out of her. Personally, I thought she went a bit overboard with the exposing of freedom to her sister, but I didn't know her parents all that well, either.
"You should go, man," John argued. "I saw Rhoda eyeing you the other day. She always liked redheads."
"She was eyeing him because you were right next to him," Tobee interjected. I wasn't hurt because a) I didn't really have a soul to hurt with and b) I knew it was true better than anybody.
"Still, it won't be as fun without you!"
"I think you'll have plenty of 'fun' without me," I replied.
"Oh! Apathetic person burn!"
But for some reason, when that night came around, I found myself in a nice shirt and a tie and on a course that lead to the school. I wondered why I was doing it; I understood quickly.
"Travis!" I spun around, and saw Tobee hanging upside-down from a tree. "You're not going, are you?"
"I'm surprised you aren't there," I replied stoically. "You always said you liked guys in suits." She grinned, her white teeth a little beacon in the growing darkness.
"Well, you look pretty good." Ba-dump. "Anyway, do you really wanna go?"
"No, not really."
"Me niether. Follow me instead!" So I did, ruining one of my few nice outfits by weaving through the branches with her, trying to keep up. Finally, I realized she was no longer in the tree at all, and parted the branches to see her at the overlook, staring at the stars. I sighed and uncomfortably exited the thorny branches, trotting up to her with my hands in my tattered pockets.
"We could've just climbed the stairs," I reasoned, not looking at her.
"Yeah, but wasn't that more fun?" I turned when I realized she was looking at me, and suddenly every ache and longing made sense. There she was, her hair reflecting the moon and stars and her eyes putting them both to shame. She was flashing that grin again, and it looked as if she ate the sky and replaced her teeth with its little dots of light.
She was beautiful. She was free. I loved her.
"You okay?" she questioned. I nodded, but she couldn't see in the dark.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice void of emotion. It had been just like when I first met her; I had nothing to worry about.
"I have a present for you," Ms. Hannah told us one day as we hung out and did nothing at the overlook.
"Presents? Sweet!" John jumped up and dashed past her, rocking on his heels in excitement. Tobee and I purposefully went slower than usual to annoy him. Ms. Hannah smiled and led us to her house, where we were all shocked at the gift: a Tepig, an Oshowatt, and a Snivy, one for each.
"I call this one!" John exclaimed immediately, diving for the Snivy. I saw Ms. Hannah cringe.
"You have very good taste," she croaked, losing her normally sweet voice.
"I'll go next, since I know Travis doesn't care," Tobee said with a grin. She scooped up the Oshowatt and began to play with its shell, while the Tepig cantered over to me on its own accord.
"Hey," I said. It oinked.
"This is great!" Tobee laughed, snuggling her Oshowatt. "Thank you so much!"
"Seriously, this is even cooler than me!" John agreed. I'm not sure if anyone really understood the magnitude of that compliment.
"Why, though?" I asked, patting my Pokemon on the head. Ms. Hannah turned away, not looking anyone in the eye, which was highly unusual for her.
"I've told you," she explained, "you remind me of my daughter and her friends."
And it was shortly after this that this story began.
I've read the book. Arrest me for plagarism.
But I am Travis Thorn, and this is my callous adventure.
Let's begin.
Author's Note: Oh, this is good. I like this. I'm looking forward to this.
Thanks for reading and please review!
