▽ Subway Boss Emmet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
outbounds) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bottlecaplogs2025-05-08 11:37 pm
outbounds) wrote in bottlecaplogs2025-05-08 11:37 pm
[closed] may quest round-up + other closed prompt(s)
Who: Emmet and ... I am not listing out everyone he's questing with! and others.
What: Cry for Kelp, Scattered Bug, and the get-along sweater (may or may not feature an actual sweater. or: Oran (?) does an intervention) for now
When: May, At Some Point,
Where: Various (Coast, Northern Forest, Spire at current)
Warnings: Animal/Pokemon death, the general implications of the food chain, Teenagers™
cry for kelp (for conrad, ring-spirit, laios, shoka)
What: Cry for Kelp, Scattered Bug, and the get-along sweater (may or may not feature an actual sweater. or: Oran (?) does an intervention) for now
When: May, At Some Point,
Where: Various (Coast, Northern Forest, Spire at current)
Warnings: Animal/Pokemon death, the general implications of the food chain, Teenagers™
cry for kelp (for conrad, ring-spirit, laios, shoka)
[ Tangela was said to have disappeared somewhere along the coast, so that's where they'll go. the coast, though, is ... a pretty long strip of land, all things considered.scattered bug (for siffrin)
... honestly, it's probably best if they just start at one end of the bay and work their way to the other until they pick up on Tangela's trail? ]
The coast is a lot of ground to cover. Could be anywhere along the cliffs or the beach. Or below it, even.
Think most of us can move pretty quickly if we need to though. [ it's ... probably just Conrad who wouldn't? ] Or if we can't, then we can just couple ourselves to someone who can.
[ if you're here for tangela rescue, please tag in under the subheader for it! no real enforced tag order, we'll treat it like a general mingle open for threadjacks i think, is probably the best way to do it when there's five of us and they are presumably going to tackle it in slightly separate ways up and down the beach because imagine corralling that many of us into a strict tagging order. couldn't be me. ]
[ the northern end of the forest is the part of it that Emmet has the least amount of personal experience with, as he wasn't on any of the previous trips to explore and map it out, but he's been paying attention to the chatter over the grumpearls. ... and maybe certain other sources that might be prone to talking about it in shared public spaces, but that's neither here nor there. regardless, in the end, he suspects he knows the kind of general thing to expect.the get-along sweater (for akechi, shoka, ingo)
dark, overgrown. mushrooms and strange plants everywhere. vines that will probably try to tangle you up and trap you and who knows what else. the kind of forest that will eat you, straight out of the stories and movies. agitated grass types all over, apparently, and those are definitely a type you'd have to be careful around for all the different ways to incapacitate or otherwise inflict status they have access to. an odd growth, a heart, that probably indicates the work of some sort of experienced, firmly entrenched grass type ... or just a powerful one.
(life energy into the ground, a twisted mass of bark and vines in one clearing ... an insistent sense of familiarity in another. hmm.)
all in all, a great (?) place to work out restless energy and put it towards something productive, disregarding the various tendencies of the other ends of the woods. that's what brings Emmet and Siffrin both out here after meeting at the questboard, at least. probably. ]
... Have you been through this part of the forest before?
[ they have some of dr. denne's medication for the spores, of course, but. just to make sure they're both on the same page? ]
[ Akechi and Shoka are fighting. or something like it, anyway. all of Oran's probably noticed by now, not just their motley group of offworlders and newbies to the guild, mostly on account of Akechi's continued and quite literal case of ruffled feathers and the fact that the space they're all sharing isn't exactly that big or that private. it's been several weeks and yet the Rookidee has not seemed to simmer down in the least. the Mimikyu doesn't always help, either, even if she honestly isn't acting that different from usual.
(mostly. a.b.a's absence ... probably weighs heavier on some of them than others, huh.)
anyway, it's well into the evening one night when two of the resident ghosts of the group receive a visitor. one bearing... a package (???) of some sort?
"Hey," says the Umbreon through a mouthful of cloth, punctuated with a yawn as they drop it. the Moonlight Pokemon's gaze is somehow no less piercing for it. "You two are some of the new arrivals, right? Or, well, not the newest batch, sure, but you all showed up in that storm a while back?" ]
I am Emmet. We did, yes?
[ the Umbreon nods, before rolling the swaddled fabric in their direction. it wiggles (wait. nope, that's definitely Struggle) as Emmet approaches it with realization dawning on him. "Right, so. Do something about them, will you?" a roll of their eyes as they jerk their head sharply to indicate the bundle, which is... now shaking indignantly? before they start to walk back off. "Before they go and get themselves hurt, or something."
congratulations, Akechi and Shoka, you have apparently discovered what baby jail looks like here. also minor congratulations to Ren for dodging it by way of not constantly riling up the other two in earshot of some of the higher ranked members of the guild. ]
i'll pass something along in the next tag probably
I hope not. We haven't found that much scattered yet, at least.
[ But if this is a continuing trend... surely there's only so much silver powder to be found in whatever container it was originally in.
At least the trail they've been following is extremely sparse and scattered about. There's really not that much dust whenever they do spot it, at least. Emmet has to pause every so often, either checking for the direction they should be heading or having to put more of himself into feeding and bolstering the ghostly flame. Hopefully, sooner rather than later they can find the actual pouch or whatever Vivillon had it in, so he can finish up and get back to
to
to?
What? Did he have something pressing to attend to that he's forgotten? What is ... He is usually not so ...
Like picking at a scrape or scab, Emmet (ah, that's right. he is Emmet. he is a s__w__ b___—? he won together with— what? what was he thinking?) worries at the edges of the blankness, trying to figure out and establish the shape of it— but why does it hurt— what is he missing—?
The Will-o-Wisp flickers and wavers, but keeps burning as Emmet shakes his head, sharply. He also probably missed a step, noticeably, but it's fine. Continue down this current route, follow these tracks to the intended destination. The sooner they finish up and get out of the rain, the better.
And then maybe he can figure out what he's missing and why it aches to think about it. ]
thumbsup! also me furiously inspecting your tags for span titles now that you've reminded me again,
[He looks fine. But the light of the wisp definitely flickered. And there's... there's something about that expression on his face that's a little bit familiar, though Siffrin can't place it. More a feeling than an expression, actually -]
...are you okay?
i am pretending i do not notice the timestamps here
[ Emmet does not usually sound so hesitant or unsure, even when he doesn't know something for certain. His steps don't falter again after the first, but they do fall with some more trepidation as they continue, guided by the faint glimmer of light off of bright powder.
(if siffrin allows their mind to wander a bit, they might note, in the back of it, a hallway with two doors. a room connected, well-lived in, well-furnished, an eclectic variety of lightless and darkless and light and dark shades decorating the space; the oddly lonely, too-big one they might find themselves in, sighing as they set something to the side and start heading toward the hall.) ]
s-same
[The effort amounts to a resounding not much.]
[Hm. Well. Clearly, Emmet doesn't want them to push! And why would he? Siffrin clamps their mouth shut and focuses on the ground.]
[It's easy to zone out when all you're doing is looking for stray sparkles. Siffrin finds themself lost in thought, and then (by some miracle of the Universe), a memory.]
[The lived-in space doesn't make sense, that they shouldn't have a memory of staying anywhere long enough for that to happen - but they're far too distracted trying not to think about something else to notice. The emptiness, the hole where something should be (someone? they're convinced it's many someones, then one someone, and their thoughts drift between the two options and hold them both at once, dreamlike)... it's hollowing out their chest, in a way that's familiar and isn't. It's lonely, it's so lonely, but what can they do but keep going -]
[Under their breath, but audible to sensitive Pokemon ears:] There's someone... missing...?
[The trail of sparkles, steadily getting more concentrated, abruptly ends at a tree. Siffrin stutter-steps to a stop, almost but not quite too late to keep themself from smacking into the trunk. They tilt their head back to see a little satchel wedged in the crook of two branches. It's out of their reach, but maybe not Emmet's?]
[...the memory remains, looming.]
time is fake let's handshake on that
(He figures he nearly missed it because he wasn't paying attention, rather than Siffrin not intending it to be heard.) ]
Someone missing...? No, we are looking for a something...
[ The trail ends, Emmet's response trailing off as well as he reaches hastily out with a claw (unnecessarily, it turns out, but just in case they needed to be stopped), then follows Siffrin's gaze upwards.
A little sachel indeed. Diminished— obviously, echoing Siffrin's earlier concern, but hopefully not ... overly so. It's still too high up for him under normal circumstances, but ... ]
... One moment.
[ Maybe he can ... The Will-o-Wisp flares, briefly, and his shadow stretches before he ducks away and into it, slipping up the trunk of a tree that hopefully will be able to support him when he rematerializes.
But the memory remains, looming, waiting for a quiet moment where Siffrin is left alone. There's a lived in, too lonely room. There's a home, too open, too empty. There's a door in a hallway. There's a door in a hallway that's harder to open. It's this one they make themselves head toward, though. A hand lingers on the handle before eventually turning it and pushing it open.
It's... someone's room. There's a desk along the wall, a bookcase with a collection of varying things on it along another. A closet, a wardrobe, a bed— the expected things. The position of the shutters on the window keeps the room from becoming too warm.
Many of the things in the room are varying shades of neutral and dark and lightless. Not everything, and not to the point of being stifling or gloomy, no, the room is still well lit, inviting, but enough to indicate a clear preference. It's hard to be in this room for other reasons entirely.
... it does need to be kept clean, though. Dust is starting to collect on some of the surfaces, on some of the things left scattered across the desk and shelves and nightstand, and ... no.「 ████ 」 is neat, very organized. It is not a mess— nowhere near as bad as how things can get in the other room, sometimes— but this is also not the clutter of someone who didn't intend to return to straighten it up.
But in its owner's stead they'll move through it not entirely unlike a ghost, not unlike being in a dream. Delicately, fleetingly, not lingering or thinking overlong on any particular thing. He keeps it clean. Tidy. Dusted. Scattered shed fur and scales cleaned off of where they cling to some of the sheets, the floor. Not too much. Papers get collated but set on a corner of the desk, not put away. Cleaning it up too much feels like cleaning away the evidence that someone lived here, that they're still supposed to. Putting too much away feels like packing up someone's life all nice and neat and tucking it away into the cupboards, shelved away like old memories.
One of the things on the desk is a picture frame. It isn't lingered long on, in fact hastily glossed over outside of picking it up to dust underneath before setting it down and readjusting it after, but there are two figures in it, a pair, one lightless, one darkless. He won't recognize them— at least, not in that shape, maybe, unless he recognizes the set of the expressions—
but they look happy. And the image lingers as they retreat from the room afterwards, after having finished what they came there to do. ]