|
Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on Jun 10, 2014 17:49:11 GMT -5
When was the old bastard coming back? The store only smelt half as filthy without his geriatric behind, and his horrible polo shirts, stinking up the place. Loathe as she was to admit it, Madeline pretended to despise all authority figures, she had begun to miss her boss. While he was a bit of a lecher, sneaking peeks past the pillow-like fishing vest of her uniform, he was always willing to listen—his deafness did impede any chances of giving worthwhile advice, however. At the very least, deaf and perverted aside, he happened to provide company and bad jokes to pass the time. For the past few weeks he had been ensconced in Fantasma City on a vacation. Supposedly he was having a life full of swimming, fun, and retirement. A few pictures, grainy and commonly decapitating others, had been sent to her phone. Meanwhile, stuck cleaning up his messes and taking care of his rusty old shop, the McKenna woman was a bit irritable (and extremely unamused). Her morning had been spent untangling ancient rods, with arthritic backs and rusty loops, from other old poles. Hooks had jabbed into her fingers nearly fifty times. Her profanities eventually turned into nothing more than a brief grimace, a shake of her hand, and a quick return to her labors. The shelves were clean. The rental poles, many of which had been deactivated due to the knotting of their lines, bulged from their respective racks. She had ran out on a Friday afternoon, two days ago. A sudden uptick in business, rather surprising, meant she needed more. Summer was a busy time for this little shithole. At the moment, as many people were at their respective churches, it was deader than Marley in a Christmas Carol. Wringing together her bandage-covered hands, she grabbed one of the revived rods from a hook. In truth, only having fished once or twice in her life (Daddy disapproved), she was looking forward for a few hours outside. Besides, as she had a recent payraise, she would not mind an addition to her little family. It would be even better if it was one who could put out fires—her Macargo was a flaming little thing. She was also mostly an angry sort. Little corner fires, that ate the curtains, were highly commonplace. With a whistle to a dozing and irritable Linoone, to be more accurate a hung-over one, she headed towards the dock that jutted out into the pond. Large boots, though fitting with the frame of such a large girl, clapped loudly against the wood. Baby fish, both Pokemon and otherwise, fled from her movements and weight. “Sorry little guys. A girl has to do what she has to do.” A bag of bait hung from her fingers. Instead of using a hook, which she found cruel, she used a little holder made to be less cruel. Drawing her arm back, letting it fly, she frowned. Finally, realizing the reel was locked, she managed to have the line flow outward into the fetid water. Algae surged away from it. One gloved hand on the rod, the other on a cellphone, she waited for some thing to happen. She waited some more. The minutes passed by without incident. A small frown formed. Three cigarette butts were tossed into the beach—it was her job to clean it up anyway. “They saw your ugly ass face and ran off! Kekeke!” The Linoone, streaked with lavender, began to giggle. His earrings, silver, gold, and cheap blue, shook. A foot kicked out, not hard, but caught him off guard. “Hey bitch! Watch it!” Yakuza teetered for a moment, balanced on the edge of the dock, and fell into the shallow water. “Ugh! You bastard!” Madeline resisted the urge to snicker as he pulled his sodden body, cream-furred again, from the lukewarm water. Maybe fishing wasn’t so boring after all. Tossing her bait into the water, trying a sweeter flavor, she started the waiting game all over. The grumpy Pokemon went to lick himself clean in the shallows of the little pond. @tagged
|
|
|
Post by Sildrae "The Beast" on Jun 14, 2014 20:02:30 GMT -5
The splash from the Linoone was what caught the attention of a nearby slumbering pokemon...and the yell, of course. A flash of water blue, followed by red and some white, slid into the water with ease and next to no noise. Unless something had exceptional hearing...none would be the wiser.
It slid through the water like any natural water pokemon would, but it stayed near the surface, creating a very gentle wake as it passed more timid creatures that were avoiding the fishing hook. It passed around the pier, making its way right under the owner of said hook and line, it's head slowly rising out of the water, the shadows of the lake reeds masking its true nature.
"You'll never catch anything making such a racket. The creatures of this lake are easily frightened...most of them anyways."
The voice was feminine and lighthearted, with a laugh hidden inside her speech.
"Now, if you don't mind, I'm hungry, and you're scaring away dinner."
With that, the mysterious pokemon dived into the water, and the slight wake was more obvious...until it vanished, apparently diving down for a catch. The lake was eerily quiet for a moment, then with a loud splash, it leaped from the lake surface and landed on the beach, a large goldeen in its blue mouth, for standing next to Maddeline now was what looked like a Grovyle...but...it wasn't at the same time.
instead of leaves on its head and tail, it had a red crest on its head with three spikes, another crest near the middle of its back, with only two spikes, and where it would have two leafy tails, it instead had a more reptilian tail with a diamond like red spike near the end.
Its belly was a mottled white and blue, some jagged teeth grew from the back of its white lower jaw, and it also had black rims around its eyes. It still had leaves around the arms, albeit they were blue, and its yellow eyes watched Madeline as it began to feast upon the goldeen.
|
|
|
Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on Jun 24, 2014 23:45:34 GMT -5
The weasel spat angrily at the open air. Dagger-like. It was freezing! Algae trailed from foot long tresses; mud disguised any recent attempts to resemble a highlighter. Drip! Drip! Drip! The clear water became dappled in darker shades of sand. Long furrows were left in the dirt as claws flailed; these may later serve as perfect breeding grounds for the tiniest of fish. Icy eyes were now nothing more than slits. I will make you pay for that! His ire was directed at the grl upon the dock. It did not help that she was whistling some chipper pop song between puffs of supposedly sweet nicotine. He just didn’t get it! It wasn’t even fucking Friday! The rumble in his chest steadily grew in volume. His muzzle peeled back to reveal long canine teeth. Plop! A large pile of mud dropped from his fur and to the shore immediately beneath. Disgust was apparent across his features. He was not about to lick himself clean! He had heard about all kinds of creepy-crawlies living in the dirt at this place! Remaining dirty bothered him; it made his skin, a pleasant pink color, literally crawl. The cream fur did not remain a perfect shade, minus some streaks of color, due to its owner having little concern with appearances. He grew up in a dumpster. He had been birthed in a dumpster. He had running water now! Yakuza did not think he needed to smell or look like garbage. The thought of throwing himself back into the water, sinking into the sludge, was just as bad as being dirty. With a huff, too absorbed in his own filth to hear the newest arrival, he set about cleaning what he could. His trainer, with human ears, did not hear a thing.
The redhead thought she might take her own bait at the moment. The little balls of sweet, which she had been told to nibble on to certify freshness, weren’t too bad. Her father would have hated the blurred lines; it made her much more anxious to smudge them further. It was getting close and closer to dinner time. Hands reached into her pocket, either for a lighter or a new piece of bait, and stopped. Fiery eyes watched the wake as the creature approached. Her body tensed. She waited for the jerk of weight on the line. Maybe fishing is not so bad after all, hm? Nothing happened. The line remained limp and unresponsive. Instead, like some swamp beast, a head appeared from the water. “Oh? I take it you are one of the courageous few?” She shrugged. “I do not have a real hook on there anyway-“ She was fishing for boredom; big and tough or not, which she liked to think she was, Madeline found little enjoyment in harming others. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll avoid kicking my Dunphan into the water next time…” Was that how you said it? “Oh certainly. I will be quieter than the grave—“ She was a bit annoyed at being ordered around. I am not anyone’s dog.Waving farewell, rolling her eyes at her furry friend, the woman settled in to wait again. “As long as the little shit leaves my bait alone….” In. Out. In. Out. The air before her was steadily filled with a stream of smoke. It was nauseating; it was not as if she wanted an expensive cigar or anything. She was able to relax for all of five seconds. The water exploded before her. The redhead let out a shout of alarm. Ome foot drove itself through a hole in the rotten dock. Mud clutched at her ankle as if it was her dearest friend. She didn’t notice the oddity really. It loked vaguely like a Pokemon her mother had—some weird lizar thing. Her father had never considered it important for her to know a Bidoof from a Kingler. It made no difference to her that it was likely something escaped from the lab. In fact, as it was tearing into something that could talk, she was avoiding looking at it. “If I did that, they’d arrest me.” How does anyone eat fish? I never did understand dad’s love for it. “Just make sure not to get guts over here. These are new boots.” Well, one of them anyway—the other is a piece of wet rubber. “Got any other advice about fishing—besides stupid?” Any idiot knows you need to be quiet.@tagged
|
|