Matsuba "Morty" Angelo Yubin [F]
Mar 4, 2014 0:34:20 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Mar 4, 2014 0:34:20 GMT -5
MATSUBA, ANGELO, YUBIN
31 - MUTANT - MALE - NEUTRAL –
ABOUT THE PLAYER:
OOC Account: @alyfox
What do you wish to be called?: Alyssia, Aly
Other Characters: Plenty of them~
Link to your previous character: @faline
BASIC INFORMATION:Full Name: Matsuba Angelo Yubin (Matsuba = the end, evil spirits. Angelo = angel. Yubin = ghost.)
Nickname(s): Morty, and this comes from his intense love of Ghost-Type Pokemon, which also comes with a plethora of other nicknames. The Dead Man, the Undertaker, the Witch Man, and whatever else relating to the psychic and deathly, ghostly world you can come up with. 'Weirdo' tends to be rather common, since it always looks like he's talking to inanimate objects. Very little hurts his feelings, so you can call him what you want; he'll likely respond.
Gender: Male.
Age: Thirty-one.
Allegiance: Neutral. Technically a believer in Ho-Oh.
Occupation (Position) :He's a ghostbuster.He tries to eliminate ghosts and spirits from the lives of others. People are paranoid--and his power can make for a decent making. He's also technically the Ecruteak City gym leader.
Species: Mutant.
Powers: Clairvoyant. He has a deep, ridiculously constant connection with the afterlife on more than one level—physical and otherwise. This has been an ability he's had since the day he was born and something that manifested more obviously to others the older he got; it's also the cause of people thinking he's so weird. While no one else can see ghosts around them, as they can make themselves invisible to people, Morty can see them at all times, but only on some levels. His connection with some spirits might be weaker than others, and sometimes they can hide himself from him. When he really doesn't want to, he will make them invisible himself, but he can't ever stop hearing them and sometimes he can't stop seeing them. It drives him rather mad sometimes. Physically, he can connect with them, touch them, but only when he really focuses on them and it can't be more than one at a time, and this connection easily fleets when his focus is broken. Considering his anxiety, his focus isn't something that comes around all that often. There is a chance he can make them appear to others, but only through that touch he has to focus on; it's something he's never tried. A smaller aspect of the power is that it allows him to locate lost things, something he's done for people several times.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:Face Claim: Matsuba (Morty), Pokemon HGSS.
Hair color and hair style: Blonde and a little on the longer side. He tends not to bother styling it, so it's a bit messy, and he can usually be seen holding it back with that signature purple headband.
Eye Color: Violet.
Height: Five feet and ten inches.
Build: He's probably what most people call a 'string bean' – the sweaters tend to add on more than is actually there.
Other Appearance Information: If you ask him, there is nothing overly impressive about his appearance and he honestly tries not to be anything normal, tries not to fit into a socially accepted norm for looks. He does his own thing, seen in the way he keeps himself by dressing and holding himself, the way his hair his cared for and otherwise. He is quite tall and a 'string bean', for lack of a better word. His clothing style, usually consisting of sweaters and such that are a little too big, tend to add more weight on the outside than there actually is. Take the clothing off and you will find very little—mostly ribs and a small waist. There isn't much else there. The anxiety also tends to keep him from eating, which explains the sometimes unhealthy appearance he has.
Pale-skinned, he has not spent much time outside in recent years and the long sleeves he tends to wear, no matter the weather outside, tend to shield him from the effects of the sun. If he took the time to soak in the sunlight, he would likely burn quick, heal quick, and take in tanning after that. He's not necessarily fond of being outside in daylight as it is—considering the only time he seems capable of getting any sleep is during that time. As for scars, he has a few here and there, located primarily on his arms and legs, mostly from childhood accidents of following ghosts around into the wrong areas and tripping or getting stuck somewhere.
His hair only makes his skin look paler. It's not a pale gold, but a more vibrant one; he's very obviously blonde. As for how he keeps it? Well, he doesn't really care to do too much to it. It's a little on the longer side and falls around his face in a tousled mess that he pulls off very well. He can get rather nasty bedhead, but when he wakes up, it's just a matter of running a wet brush through it before throwing on that signature purple headband of his to keep everything in place. His eyes are a similar shade of violet, almost pale, bordering on pastel. They're rather pretty, highlighted well by the thick frames of the reading glasses he can often be found wearing, usually black or a red. He has more than one pair.
His posture is generally very relaxed. He is a laid back kind of person, but there will be times when one can find those muscles taut and those shoulders hunched. His anxiety can get to him, where the voices won't leave them alone, when he can't make them go away. He will curl up tightly and plug his ears. Make them stop, make them stop. He won't say it, but it can be seen just by his body language. As for clothes, it's been made fairly apparent he's fond of sweaters and long sleeves in general. He enjoys the sweaters, though, and never leaves without that scarf of his, as well as the gold pin that hangs on it. A single earring in his left ear is also there, something he got as more of a fashion statement than anything else. It's made of the same metal material as the pin on his scarf.
Super distinguishing features aside from his rather odd personality? Very few and far in the physical realm of things. There aren't many interesting physical aspects about Matsuba. No tattoos, no distinguishing scars. The arm is a bit of a giveaway to that, but the prosthetic tends to help hide it. Most people don't seem to notice if they don't pay too much attention. His voice is different—sitting on the lower tone end of the spectrum, but not all that deep like a bass, more like a baritone. His voice easily gives away any emotion he's feeling, which tends to be very relaxed on a normal basis, but the anxiety and fear will mix in very quickly the moment it kicks in. You can even tell when he feels awkward, mostly with his inadvertent flirting, or when something is just not...how he normally is. Another thing is that he smells very distinctly like incense. Aside from the flowers kept frequently in his home, there is always an incense burning, and he always smells like it, whether faint or strong; it's there. He also has a memorable smile, the bright kind that no one really tends to forget, and a casual laughter that's always there.
PERSONALITY:Likes:
- Sushi. Ever since he was little, he has always enjoyed Asian food, though sushi has always held quite a bit of his favor. He likely eats this more often than anything else available, and some people might say that his attachment to it is a little unhealthy, but what's so unhealthy about fish? It's probably one of the healthier things that anyone could eat, raw or cooked. It's always been something his family is relatively fond of, likely because of their Johto heritage, and it's kind of the only thing Morty really knows how to make for himself. If anything, it's likely the best reason it's the only thing he eats.
- Flowers and incense. There were, and even still are, times where he will spend much of his day in graveyards. This was mostly in his younger years, when he was more curious about the ghosts and likely to follow them around. He would see many flowers on the graves and became quite fond of their beauty. He finds them pretty, aesthetic, and they tend to smell very nice. He'll keep several available to the visible eye around his living space. They're calming and, in a way, despite where his likeness of them comes from, happy. He takes care of several plants. Simply because he is so well-connected with death does not mean that he brings it to living things.
- Ghosts. They're great! Mostly in the aspect of Pokemon typing, at least. When everything started out, he didn't mind seeing the ghosts of other people, and to some extent he still doesn't. It was almost odd how the ghosts came about in his life, but they weren't a threat to him, and he saw them as his friends. To some extent, he still does. He will still talk to the ones that don't really bother him too much, even if he's the only one that can really see them or even hear them. About half the ghosts he comes across aren't distressed in any way, just normal, hanging around, but about half of them also aren't quite so normal. He does like ghosts, but this mostly applies to the Ghost-type Pokemon. They are his specialty, after all. He's released any Pokemon that aren't Ghost-types before—because he felt wrong training them.
- Daytime. The warm sun, the bustling streets, the bright colors, and things to do, things to do. What isn't there to like about the normalcy of the daytime hours? As much as he would love to spend time outside and doing things as he used to, he honestly can barely drag himself out of bed for it. Nowadays, it's the only time he can manage to sleep. Even with anti-anxiety medication, it's hard to ignore the voices of ghosts at night, when they are most plentiful. It's much quieter than the nighttime, and it's why he takes a likeness to it better. While his own Pokemon tend to be Chatty Cathys, there's nothing there at that point that earplugs can't really fix. Or sending them out to do other things and leave him be so he can sleep. They tend to understand, but they're about as allergic to the sun as he is.
- Falkner. There are many things he likes about Hayato—a list that could carry on and on, despite the rather serious nature of the man. If you asked him, he would tell you; the little things matter. Falkner is, however, by far his best friend, the first friend he actually made that was human and not family, even if he, like everyone else, doubted his sanity at first. The things he began noticing were small. The way he attracts birds by the birdseed he keeps in his pockets, which always falls out and leaves a small trail when he walks. His expressions are the best—from the way he scrunches his nose when angry, to the sheer determination that pushes lines into his brow, to the small pout when he loses a fight or something similar, to the dusting of color on his cheeks in embarrassment, and, even if it's usually absent, the smile is wonderful when it's around. Of all the voices he hears, Falkner is most familiar and most favored; it would not matter to him if anyone else found it annoying to listen to or otherwise; it's become, over time, a sort of anchor to reality, a sense of security that...makes everything else not so bad. He makes the ghosts go away at night, he's good at that, the open air helps that, and he always even smells like it, at least to Morty. That fresh scent that's about as sharp as the angles in his face and hair, another aspect he's fond of. What someone else could consider flaws, personality and appearance wise, he easily considers pieces to the construction of a beautiful (and his favorite) person.
- Books. He is very fond of reading, and it has come to be a rather distracting past time. It was something he did about as often as battling with his father, gaining a more word-based knowledge as well as a battling based knowledge. Granted, most of those books were about Ghost-types. They greatly furthered his knowledge and his love of them, even if they were the only things he read. Whether fantasy, fiction, or purely educational, the topic never strayed far from the Ghost-type and the tactics of battling. Aside from his father, books taught hi ma great deal about how to battle with the type of Pokemon he is so fond of.
- Sleeping. When he can, at least. The voices and the ghosts seem to have an issue leaving him alone. Sleep is a nice thing he tends not to get and when he does sleep, he's usually out like a light. Something he craves, for sure, but something he also lacks in getting. When he was little, he was known for his daytime naps, because he would be a mischievous little kid and stay up way past when he was supposed to, talking to ghosts and otherwise, it would leave him very tired by the time day rolled around. He would get in trouble for it of course, but his habits as a natural night owl have never really changed—for more reasons than one. Ghosts are one of them and force of habit is another.
- Scarves. They're warm and always a little big on him, but they're nice and they provide that kind of comfort that he never necessarily got from anyone in his life. He has several of them, of various shades of...blue or purple or red. Most those colors. But they're warm. And he likes them. Surprisingly enough, this was a habit he picked up from his mother, since she had many of them laying around for whatever reason, likely to hide her neck or some such from everyone else around her. He never really understood why, but he remembers often wearing his mother's scarves out with him whenever he left the house, and eventually developed his own taste in them. He also had a tendency to use it as an excuse to be close to Falkner. “You look cold.” And then share his scarf. His inadvertent way of flirting.
- Sweaters. He also really loves sweaters. They're another thing that tends to be a little bigger on him than it would be on some people, but it's another comfort factor for him. Not to mention they provide better warmth for the cold places he tends to go. They help him sleep, too. A factor from his mother? No, this one is more from his father. He would often see the man wearing sweaters throughout the seasons, even if it were summer and hot. They were called for in autumn and winter and early spring more often than not, but it's just something he took a quick attachment to. Scents tend to cling to them very well also, hence his incense smell more often than not.
- Kimonos. This is more of a secret than anything else—he actually had the gall to take dancing lessons with the Kimono Girls in Ecruteak City, and his Pokemon managed to get him to wear a kimono with them. Honestly, as strange as he is, this isn't that much of a surprise as it would be to anyone who actually knew him, who are few and far between. He has at least two nice silk kimonos in his closet. One is his usual dark purples and such, and the other is modeled after Ho-Oh. Did he mention how much he likes Ho-Oh? He's quite the follower of the bird Pokemon, and if he had a deity to worship, that would be the one; it likely is, though. Nonetheless, the kimonos are made of a fine silk and sort of add almost stylish flare to his life. He doesn't wear them for much other reason than...well, celebrations.
- Flying. He loves it—funny that Falkner is a Flying-type gym leader? He's actually the cause for his like of flying. When the voices would get too loud, flying would be the only thing capable of clearing his head. The ghosts can't reach him there, way up high where there is nothing but the wind in his ears; no voices to bother him. He enjoys the closeness to everything peaceful, and to Falkner in times that it's done. It's likely the most calming influence to his anxiety, as the medicine only does so much, and at night it just tends to make everything that much better. Unfortunately, he hasn't been able to fly much lately, due to the separation from Falkner, and the lack of that calming influence is causing some very severe spikes in his anxiety. It's becoming very unhealthy for him, and that can be seen.
Dislikes:
- Nighttime. When the monster come out to play, when the parents tell those scary stories to their children to scare them out of being bad, whatever you want to call it. Lately, it's become a nightmare for the poor man. Even the anti-anxiety medication doesn't keep the voices away at night. It may have a wonderful way of keeping him calm, but it does not have a way to keep him from being bothered by them. Nighttime brings the ghosts that want to taunt him, that want him to help them, it brings the almost constant state of unrest even if he is relaxed. They won't let him sleep and it's taking a toll on his health.
- Ghosts. While ghosts are great in their own ways, they're not all sugar, spice, and everything nice. Many spirits have stayed behind in this life because they chose to do so, because they didn't want to leave, but there are an equal, if not larger, amount of ghosts that are there simply because they do not know how to pass on, do not know they are dead, or have no sense of direction; some are trapped. Those tend to be the worst, because they become corrupted and filled with unrest after so long, confused and aimless as they can be, and they seek the help of anyone who can see them, of anyone they think can offer. It's almost like they know he can see them and hear them, and they want him to help, but they're just voices and images that bother him, that make him curl up in fear at night, wishing they would go away, wishing they would just leave him alone.
- His power. He didn't ask for this, and he almost hates that he has it, as useful and nice as it has been in the past and as it can be now, but it attracts too many things he really doesn't want. People find out and want him to expel the bad spirits from their homes; the best he can do is give them incense, he's not an exorcist, he just wants them to go away and stop asking him to do things. His power attracts ghosts. If he didn't have it, he wouldn't be anxious, he wouldn't be surrounded by the almost constant moaning and groaning and whispers and shrieks of those long dead. His power, now that so much time has passed in his life of having it, has begun to cause way more problems than it's worth. It's done it's good things; he wouldn't have his Ghost-types without it.
- His anxiety. Another thing he's gained over time, just from constantly being surrounded by ghosts. It makes him antsy and jumpy, piling on the stress and frustration at everything around him. It only started really appearing in times of his traveling days, when the ghosts became plentiful in some areas of the routes. He grew increasingly wary of them, jumpy, scared of them when the nastier ones began to appear. As a child, he didn't take notice to them; he was naïve then. It all just made him the way he is now. It stresses him out ridiculously without medication, makes him not want to eat, deprives him of sleep. No wonder he usually looks sick.
- Solidarity. His entire life has essentially been this way, ranging from his mother telling him to sit in one place to the fact that ghosts come and go. There is also the fact that ghosts can't be seen by anyone else, so everyone who saw him talking to essentially nothing thought he was strange and would rather spread rumors about him and ignore him than be his friend. This pattern repeated frequently throughout his early years and, even when he did make a friend, being without that friend made things very difficult. He grew used to the company of a person and the lack of it actually hurt.
- Remoor. If there had been no war and there wasn't an infection, he is fairly sure that it would be as wonderful a place as anywhere else is, with great plants and wildlife. However, it's not quite like that, and it's absolutely terrible. And to some extent, he honestly blames Pravus for all of this, but Mewtwo can shoulder that blame as well. Mewtwo had to come and start the war and Pravus had to go sacrifice a bunch of people just to make him go away. It's not that mostly—it's the ghosts. There are a ridiculous amount of them wandering around the region, most of them lost and searching for a way out, some don't even know they're dead.
- Swimming. He never really learned how to swim and he hated taking baths as a little kid. He's okay with a shower every other day, but that's about the extent of it. He's okay with baths as long as he can see the bottom of the tub, but he won't go swimming in other bodies of water. Rivers, lakes, ponds. It doesn't matter, if it's not a bathtub or a shower, he won't go into it. Sitting on the shore skipping rocks or chatting with someone is a different thing. Swimming, however, there's just a whole lot of nope.
- The outside. Another sort of force of habit, considering a lot of his time is spent inside, reading books or otherwise. He won't spend extended periods of it outside anymore unless he really has to anymore. He also doesn't like being bothered, thinking if he can hide in his apartment then he won't be found by the ghosts (which honestly doesn't work out so well for him at this point). He would, preferably, like to be inside and reading a book more often than not, but there are things he loves to do outside. Flying, and even walking from time to time is enjoyable. It's all a matter of the preference in the moment of day.
Strengths:
- Laid-back. Something that's been engrained in him from his early years, he really tends not to sweat the small stuff. There really isn't much point, he finds, because few things are really that big of a deal. Not to mention simply relaxing throughout life, especially when things can get hard, makes everything easy to deal with. It takes off the stress from everything in general and tends not to catch up to him later. Not to mention this easy-going attitude seems capable of putting others around him at ease. He doesn't pay much mind to what others say and think about him, even though it tends to put him off and without friends. He does have friends and thinks those sorts of people will come easily. There will be people who understand him so there really isn't much point in worrying, is there?
- His power. This is a useful thing when it can be, seeing the dead and helping them and finding things that are lost. He does like to help other people where he can, especially if it's in the matter of seeing a loved one. It also helps him to locate lost things, which is useful in itself, meaning he is rather organized. Everything could be a mess and he could know exactly where it is. But, in terms of traveling, he can decide where it is and isn't safe to go. It's useful for several aspects of his life, but mostly in understanding ghosts. He's quite fond of them for this reason. In fact, if it honestly weren't for this power, he likely would not have the love for Ghost-type Pokemon that he has. He was born a bit different than everyone else, but honestly, it's made him all that much stronger whether anyone wants to admit it or not. Weird has it's advantages.
- Gym leader. It's good to be one for more than one reason. Despite his oddities, people tend to revere him nonetheless for what he is and what he does best. Not to mention he's made several very close friends out of it, again despite the weirdness, which is great in itself. Those friends are very close to him and very dear to his heart. Falkner, Bugsy, and Whitney are likely the ones he has closest to him. These connections can also be very powerful. He has people to back him up if he needs it, which isn't often (he just has a weird way of getting out of things unscathed), but he is never afraid to ask for their help. Sometimes he needs it, he really does, and he knows his limits very well. This also provides for some good connections with others as well.
- Intelligent. Believe it or not, despite this rather hippie-like aura that surrounds him, he is a very smart man. When he was young, he would spend ridiculous amounts of time around books. He loved to read, he loved to learn, and his father was good at teaching him things. His grandparents worked in the same aspect for several things. He was raised a well-rounded kid with some great intellect. He just tends to be a slacker in using it more often than not. Get him motivated to solve some problems in a math book or such and he'll have it figured out fairly quick. He has a rather high IQ, he doesn't really use it though, and he doesn't really see much reason to more often than not. If you count intellect as tactics in battle, then, sure, he uses it quite often. It's likely the reason he's so good at battling. He still reads as well, so he's constantly shaping it.
- Ghost-types. There isn't anything he doesn't know about Ghost-type Pokemon. When someone says they are his specialty, they couldn't be more right about that. He knows the type inside and out, how to use it to his advantage in almost every situation, and that's a good aspect in any trainer, especially in a gym leader. He knows how to teach people about this type. He knows its weaknesses and its strengths and there is little that was capable of beating him for a long time. There have been slip ups, however, because not all ghosts are necessarily good at being nice to him or leaving him alone when he really needs them to. He could tell you anything you want about the Ghost-type, even train you to use it well, but not better than him. He takes pride in his knowledge of the type of Pokemon he specializes in, and for good reason as well.
- Battling. He loves it. His father was wonderful at battling, very skilled and well-praised for his tactics and strength with a type that most people tended to avoid with their life. His whole family is like this, specializing in the Ghost-type Pokemon and in battling with them. Even his grandparents were revered for their skills. They were never great at understanding much else. Ghost-types and battling were the extent of what they could do better than anyone else could. The Ghost-type is difficult to train, difficult to battle with, but has so many advantages to it that it's really worth the patience that is required to often do it. Battling, however, is a bit of a passion of is, even if he tends to like books more often than other things. He's just good at it and he likes that he is.
- Being weird. There is no doubt about this, but this is honestly something he just does by second nature, something that most other people tend to see him as rather than doing on purpose. Unless it's wanted, most other people cannot see ghosts, but he can. He will talk to them, but it may look like he's conversing with air or with a wall or with the ceiling. It's rather strange to see him do this, and while it's completely normal to him, it's absolutely weird to someone else. This comes completely natural to him, as he has more friends among the dead than the living, which is odd in itself. His lack of capability to handle interactions with the living more often than not are often a cause of this.
Weaknesses:
- Blunt. Even if he doesn't really mean to, he has a tendency to be this way. What he really thinks tends to just slip out and sort of be there. Sometimes he doesn't really think, and this is where the lack of using that intellect comes in, and just says what's there. He's offended people before, but he honestly doesn't realize that he has. He may try to tell a joke that some find funny and some don't. If it's amusing to him, he'll say it and then just laugh to himself. You never know—the ghosts around him might find it funny, but that doesn't mean anyone else around him finds it that way. He has pushed away complete strangers, possible friends, before because of this aspect of him. He's not really afraid to say what's on his mind, or perhaps it's just a lack of thinking before the words actually leave his mouth. He's honestly harmless and doesn't always mean it.
- Anxiety. This is a huge weakness for him. When night rolls around, this spikes up severely and it's apparent in almost everything he does when he doesn't take the anti-anxiety medication. Jumpiness, stress, hunched shoulders, and even seen in his face and heard in his tone of voice. When he doesn't take that medication to help him, the stress piles on ridiculously, and it makes him not want to eat, it doesn't help him sleep. It very quickly becomes extremely detrimental to his health, seen in his face when it grows gaunt and thin from lack of food, when the bags under his eyes are highlighted because of the lack of sleep, and even the constant jittery aura he has about him whenever he is like this. Whenever this takes over, it's very different from his laid-back self, and it's very obvious.
- His power. This plays in with a number of things, namely the anxiety and some of the unstable emotional and mental issues he has. While there are many useful times in which is it great to see ghosts and otherwise, it has caused more problems than it is worth. From his early years, he has never been necessarily stable and over time, the power has made that worse and has given him many problems in the emotional, mental, and even social sense. It's also causing it's physical damage, as displayed in the former bullet point. Honestly, sometimes he worries that it will one day take him way too far over the edge, but he tries not to think about it. Zilla, on the other hand, worries far more about it than him and is constantly trying to find a way to make him stable, to keep the other ghosts not on the team away.
- Ghosts. While the ghosts of people are detrimental to his health through his power and in turn through his anxiety, he also is weak to Ghost-type Pokemon. Not really in anything that bad of a sense, but he honestly has a large weak spot for them. Throughout his training years, he was told he could choose whatever Pokemon he wanted when he was traveling, but he chose Ghost-types. He has a soft spot for them and he's given up other Pokemon just so he could have Ghost-types. His Pokemon are like his closest friends, almost a second family, even if they are technically dead. They would do anything to protect him and make sure he is safe and well, which is getting hard to do. The medication can only do so much, especially when they themselves can't provide that heat and warmth of his living friends, the thing he misses the most.
- Awkward. When it comes to certain situations in actually purposely trying something, he is about as awkward as it gets. Most of his life has been spent interacting with the dead, with things most people can't see, so when it comes to interacting with the living there are things he doesn't really know how to do. Flirting is one of them, and if anyone's seen him make an attempt at flirting, it's probably the weirdest thing you've seen. He'll offer a scarf, which is his attempt, and if he's rejected, he get sad very quick. Mostly in handling conversations and interactions with living beings in general. It's hard to deal with something he isn't so familiar with. It's a wonder people consider him their friend sometimes, since his interactions with even them don't always go over so well.
- Unstable. He's been this way since he was little, and not just by cause of his power, mostly by cause of his mother. She was never the greatest mother and with the absence of his father in the early years, it caused some damage to his emotional state. When that flip flopped, he couldn't really handle it. On the outside, he handled it fine, talking to ghosts, dealing with whatever issues he had there. The power and the anxiety made it worse. He's never been emotionally, mentally, or socially stable; unfortunately, such was the hand he was dealt. He can't do anything to change his past, even though to some extent he wishes he could. If he could just get rid of his power, maybe he would be normal, maybe he would have more friends. Maybe his mother would've loved him, maybe he did something wrong... his emotions are everywhere, and it's not healthy. He just doesn't show it, which is even less healthy.
- Candy. You are an idiot if you give him candy. This is something you really don't want to do. Candy was never something he was necessarily given as a child, so his body reacts very different to the excessive amounts of sugar than others who have had it frequently throughout their lives. He gets ridiculously hyper and very hard to pin down. Ever use the term “bouncing off the walls”? This is a phrase often applied to him. He giggles and snickers at every little thing and just gets even weirder, not to mention has a hard time listening to what others tell him to do. Falkner found out the hard way once that getting him sugar drunk isn't the best idea. Once he is under the influence of all of this processed sugar, it's very hard to get him to come back down, but he is known to literally crash onto the floor in sleep once the sugar goes through his body. He's also a very clingy sleeper, so beware if you curl up next to him in the moments of sleep, because you won't escape until he wakes up the next morning.
How do they feel about Pravus?:
- He sees how they can be a potential threat to everything around them, but he also can't necessarily deny that they're keeping everything in order with the way things are. He is not overly fond of the unorthodox ways in which they are doing these things, but what can he do about them? He's one man and only has one arm. He has more pressing matters anyways. Though, he does dislike them for the war—the ghosts of that won't leave him alone.
How do they feel about Pokemon?:
- He loves them, there is no doubt about that, but it is rather obvious that he is more fond of the dead than the living. He's always been surrounded by them and the Pokemon aren't as bad as most people make them out to be. They're just as great as the rest, maybe a little better, if he says so himself~ But his Pokemon tend to be the only things in the world he has.
How do they feel about Pokemorphs?:
- He's not too sure how to feel about them. He supposes they're odd in their own way and useful in their own way too, even if they kind of defy the very laws of nature. But...ghosts sort of do all the same, so he can't really be judgmental there. He personally doesn't want much to do with them so he can sort of avoid getting involved with Pravus.
How do they view the anti-Pravus movement?:
- Again, he does not mind them, but he also doesn't think they're overly capable of rising up against Pravus too well. There are so few of them compared to the main government that it's...rather sad. He tries not to mind them and go about his business as he usually does. He won't outright help them and he won't outright stand against them, as with Pravus. He was originally here on vacation anyways.
Personality:
- Blunt and truthful. Something he can't really avoid, just because it's how he is, he says what's on his mind. He doesn't beat around the bush, per se, but he doesn't always mean to. Whatever is on his mind just tends to slip out, he tends not to use that intellect he has, tends not to think before he speaks. If he thinks something is funny, even if it might be hurtful or irritating to someone else, he will say it. He may not always realize, either, that what he said was hurtful to someone else. Honestly, he doesn't see things the way most other people do. He's a bit oblivious in this manner. He doesn't lie, though. When the truth slips out, it is the truth.
- Laid-back. He's been this way for years, by nature, and if he weren't plagued with anxiety, then he would be this way all the time. When he's on his medication, this is how he tends to be. He honestly doesn't sweat the small stuff and he doesn't see much reason to do so. There's no point in making a big deal out of everything, even things that really should be a big deal, honestly. It makes everything easier to handle, takes the stress off of life. He's easy-going and easy to get along with more often than not. This part of him tends to make others feel a little more relaxed as well, and even though he's a bit weird, it just tends to be the aura he gives off overall.
- Anxious. When he's not taking his medication to keep him calm, to help him ignore those nasty voices that surround him on a literal constant basis, then he becomes completely different. The stress will wear on him very quickly. He'll become more in tune with his powers and the ghosts around him, which aren't all nice, and which are far more plentiful in this region due to the war that ravaged it. He becomes very jumpy and fidgety, and it's obvious in his tone and on his face that he's become this way. There is little that can be done to get rid of this, because unless one can get rid of his powers, then nothing can really be done.
- Loner and weird. He's always been alone, even when he's had other people around him, like his family, and his weirdness is a factor that plays into this very well. Even now, when he does have solid, human, living and breathing, friends, he still has his moments of complete loneliness. Being in Remoor, a place he isn't familiar with all that much, his weirdness isn't understood by those around him. He doesn't want to explain over and over again that he can talk to ghosts, communicate with them on a level no one else can. It makes him alone, but he doesn't mind. He has those ghosts, those Pokemon of his, so he's never really alone, but like he used to, he can thrive as a longer. The lack of company of his friends, however, is hard to bear. He misses the warmth of his friends, the hugs and the sleeping near them at night, the gatherings and otherwise. He's lonely in Remoor, because no one understands his weird quite like anyone else does.
- Attached. When he makes a healthy attachment to someone, he does become ridiculously attached. This was the case with Falkner. Just the fact that the other didn't find him all that weird (until he lost) and then stuck with him until after sort of changed that aspect. Falkner was the first human that wasn't family that he made a healthy attachment to, whether it was returned or not for the longest time, but this pattern repeated with Bugsy and with Whitney eventually, and other gym leaders from the Johto region. Once he makes an attachment, it stays that way. If he sees you as his friend, you are his friend until he's told otherwise.
- Inadvertent. He has a way of going about things in a roundabout manner, in a way that others may not realize what his real intentions are. Whether it's intending to help them to feel better, to take care of them, or to even show his affection for them. This mostly applies to the last thing. He's not the best with relationships with living beings in general, so he doesn't really know how to outright display anything he feels towards anyone. This can range from simple, small gifts to offering his scarf for warmth or other various things. He doesn't always show it outright because he doesn't know how. It's hard to when your life is spent surrounded by ghosts and your early years are spent with a woman who wouldn't show any outright love herself.
- Damaged and unstable. His mother was not a good woman, even if he didn't have that much time with her. He just remembers how...unloving she was. She was not a good mother, first and foremost, but he blames that on himself. His power caused all of this, talking to walls and nothing anyone else could see stressed her out. People thought he had imaginary friends until...well, even until now it might seem like that, even if it's not the case. His mother did not love him the way he expected her to as a child, and that caused some damage in itself. He bottled that up and tried to keep his friends among the technically dead. Even when he was taken by his father and grandparents, that damage remained, and over time he was susceptible to the anxiety and everything that came with it. When he is off his medication, he is very unstable, emotionally and mentally. He is less of a harm to others, but Arceus only knows that he can be a harm to himself if he's not watched.
- Friendly and talkative. He is known, however, to be very friendly. There is barely a mean bone in his body and this is displayed by the interactions he does have with the living, and even the dead. Unless they're mean to him first, he doesn't see much reason to be mean at all, even if it's in retaliation. When he does, though, he is quite the talker. He could talk a ghost's ear off and he could likely talk off the ears of the living. He always has a lot to say about things. He is a rambler, especially when he gets nervous or anxious, like when people find out about his power. He can go on and on. When he gets excited about something, it's the same way. He can talk and talk, he really can, and sometimes he can be the only one holding the conversation. He doesn't mind—when he talks to ghosts, it seems one-sided anyways.
BACKGROUND:
History:
”Ten and a half hours of labor later and you have a beautiful baby boy, Candice!” The woman was tired; nine months of ups and downs waiting for the little bundled miracle sitting in her arms. She had waited so patiently, gone through each kick against her side with a thrill as the date became closer, and now the time had finally come. The nurse hovered nearby, waiting to see if she needed anything else, waiting so she was simply there for her. The brunette had no one else to be there with her, it was the least she could do, but the woman was just smiling down at the little baby; he cooed and grabbed at her fingers. ”So...is the father coming?”
And that was where the smile melted from her lips, shadows casting over the high cheekbones like a barrier holding back the tears. ”...He's not in the picture anymore.” The nurse simply nodded, gave her quiet congratulations on the baby, and exited the room. Her pale finger stroked the baby's cheek. ”...There's no one in the picture anymore, little guy.” She ground her teeth, biting her tongue, stiffening her upper lip. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't fail him like that, not like she failed Makoto... She would write a letter later, telling him about his son; he deserved that at least. At some point... She wondered if she would have the gall to actually send it to him.
The Honchkrow perched off to the side, blocking the light from the window like a dark moon, narrowed his eyes. ”...You have to tell him eventually.” His expression softened when a single tear rolled down that pale cheek, plopping quietly on the baby's nose, to which the young human gave a small squawk of contempt at the sensation. The only response he received was a soft 'I know' and he fell silent again; upsetting her was not the wisest of ideas. Unstable, pregnant, and left the father of her child without a word of goodbye... Candice was wrong to assume everything bad about Makoto. Everything would have been fine. She just did not stop listening to the voices in her head.
”...I'm sorry, my little Matsuba.”
”Matsuba! Come on, stop playing in the mud like that, you're going to ruin your clothes...”
Four years old and already a mess and a half, making imaginary friends instead of real ones. That was normal for children his age, right? It was supposed to be. It had to be. There was nothing wrong with him, nothing wrong at all. No, he wasn't like her, he couldn't be. He could not turn out like her or like his father. He could not, even if he was a very tiny spitting image of the man she so believed she loved. That easy-going grin of his beamed up at her; he was so happy. ”Sorry, mama! I was just playing with my friend! Her name is Sarah.” He seemed so sure, so positive that this girl was there, pointing to an empty space beside him. Candice gave a wry smile, nodding gently like there was something there. She would pretend for him. For now, even if there was nothing there.
She saw nothing. No one did. He wasn't different. He was just a kid...
But he saw what they couldn't.
The Ghastly beside him only confirmed what he could see—but his mother thought nothing of it. Agrona had been his friend for two years already, so she was just pretending to! That's what good friends did, right? The familiar yellow bottle slipped from her pocket and those two white capsules popped into her mouth, downed back with that tea of hers. It took off the edge, the fear that, maybe, just maybe her son wasn't normal. Maybe he had what she had, what his father had. That couldn't be true; she didn't want it to be. But it is. You know it is. Why are you running from this? The voices in her head taunted her, and she turned away, escaping into the security of the scarf around her neck.
”Sarah, let's go play!” ”Okay!” The little girl was about his age. She had died about his age, but he did not know that. No one else could see her, but that was okay! She was his friend and he really liked her. She came to play every single day, but she never got dirty, just like the other ones! ”Agrona, why do people look at me funny?” The only thing the Ghastly could tell him was that he simply saw things the way other people didn't. They didn't see ghosts like he did and that was perfectly okay. He just had a special power that made him able to see types like herself even if she were invisible, but Pokemon weren't the only types like that. There were people like that too!
When he was barely five, those friends would not stay much longer. He would have to say goodbye, and he cried. His friends were leaving him. ”We promise we'll come back! Don't worry, Mastu!” All he could do was stand in his yard and wipe the tears furiously from his face with the scarf wrapped around his neck; it was his mother's. It smelled like her, was soft like her hair and her sweaters. When they disappeared, faded from view, he ran inside and clung to her tightly. ”They're gone, Mama! They're gone... All my friends had to leave...” Blue eyes turned upward in fear; she had been wrong. That little orange bottle was out of arm's reach, and the voices prodded at her again. Why don't you believe your son? He's different. So what? He was too different. She did not want him to be like her.
Candice let him bury his face into her sweater and cry. ”They promised they would come back!”
But they never did.
How many pills had he seen popped from the bottle to her mouth?
When did water turn to tea?
...When did the tea turn to Bourbon?
Carelessly slapped on Band-Aids whenever he fell. A half a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Sloppily put together outfits for class. Even Agrona noticed how much further his mother was growing from him, how careless she was. She had realized her son was different, and his life did not matter to her anymore. I failed. The tone repeated over and over in her head, off the walls of the house, and Matsuba could hear them as he laid in the piles of his mother's incense-smelling scarves upon his bed at night. He didn't think she was a failure...but...what did he do wrong to make her think that way? Why was he so bad? She looked at him funny, like she didn't want him, like he didn't belong.
Like he wasn't normal.
”Agrona...what did I do wrong?” She did not have an answer for him. The pills came quicker. There were always multiple bottles on the counter or on her nightstand. He didn't really understand what they did, what they were for... He simply knew she swallowed them because...well, he wasn't normal. Agrona said his power was special, though, so why didn't his mother see it that way? He stopped going to her for hugs, for comfort, when he did, she would snap at him. Go to your room, Matsuba, Mama is busy. So he would. And he would peek out from behind the wall, and she would have done her hair, and her makeup, and she would be out the door.
”Your mother is just...sick, Matsuba. She needs help.” The day her Honchkrow told him that, he was sad. His mother was sick...because of him? She was always mumbling on about the voices weren't real, how she had failed to keep him normal, how he would grow to be weird and unloved by everyone, even herself. Those words struck a knife deep into his chest. ...Mama doesn't love me... Did Gerry go to get that help that day? He remembered the bird screeching at his Mama, arguing with her, before snatching an old letter from her hands. He left that day, just for the day, taking the letter somewhere. Matsuba wondered where he went. Was he getting the help his mother needed?
The woods behind his home were fun, at least. He and Agrona would go there often, playing with the ghosts he would encounter. A seven year old shouldn't have any cares in the world, so he tried not to let what his mother was doing bother him, but it was more than he was letting on. The only people that seemed to love him were those that weren't living, breathing things. He was...all right with this. They understood what pain was, even if he didn't grasp it himself at his young age. ”Guys, check out this scarf!” They sat on top of their graves and waited for him. Young and old, ugly and beautiful, men and women, boys and girls. ”How beautiful, Morty!” He connection with the dead garnered the silly nickname. They were all happy to see him when he came, even if they kept leaving him not long after meeting them. They always left. Always promised to come back. But they never did. There were always new ones, so he was usually happy.
Those were happy days turned bad.
”Hmmm... Do you think they'll need umbrellas, Agrona?” Matsuba stared at the little battered thing of black plastic the Honchkrow was handing him. The bird was old, and was more caring of his well-being than his mother was. She was in her room that day. ”Ghosts don't need umbrellas, silly! Let's go, we're going to be laaaate.” Through the light drizzle they went, dancing into the graveyard only a few minutes later. A gloomy day, but there was mud and rain! This would be fun! So much to play in! And that's exactly what it was. A day of fun until it was time to go home, and he didn't pay any mind to the chill creeping up his spine. It was the feel of a graveyard, wasn't it?
When he finally made it home, that wasn't the case. There were lights and people... People he didn't know. They were his neighbors. ”Why are they all looking at me like that?” They all looked so sad...and he didn't really understand. ”Why are you all here? Where's Mama?” Why wasn't anyone answering him? He shoved through their legs, beat on their shins and knees until he stumbled through the crowd and fell into the legs of a tall man. His knee was skinned and the tears pressed at the corners of his eyes. What was that thing? When he looked up, there was a person a thing with wheels—who was that? He saw her face. His mother. Candice was gone.
But the tears stopped. How could he care for someone that didn't care for him?
”Are you...Matsuba?” The voice drew his gaze upwards and he managed to get to his feet, Agrona floating close by his shoulder. The man...reminded him of, well, him. Messy blonde hair, violet eyes, that smile... There were a lot of similarities between who he was looking at now and what he had seen in the mirror. Matsuba blinked, ”Yeah....who are you?” Gerry sat tiredly on the fence, silently giving a nod, before he expanded his wings and took flight. The man above him crouched down to his level. There was a Dusknoir beside him, and his eyes widened in awe. ”My name is Makoto...and...your mother never told you about me, but...” He tilted his head, he knew him from somewhere. The Ecruteak City gym leader?
”I'm your dad.”
Battles, books, and ghosts. The years following were filled with that, and he didn't mind in the slightest. He liked being inside with his awesome dad and wonderful grandparents. It wasn't long before everyone knew who he was—the son of the Ecruteak City gym leader. He often visited the Burnt and Tin towers with every intention of learning from them, but he took his books. They were good reads! He watched his father battle, learning more and more about ghosts. He loved them. How wonderful they were. Agrona evolved soon after he began engaging in practice battles with his, and he had a Haunter on his team.
Those years were quick and easy, filled with fun, and filled with more ghosts. He had some...worse encounters with some not so nice ghosts. He was beginning to discover that not all souls left behind were so kind as the ones he had come across before. He didn't realize his mother's Honchkrow had been keeping the evil spirits, and the incense she burned did the same thing. His father burned it in the gym and in their home as well. ”It wards off evil spirits.” He said, teaching his son about his power, about the things they could do, about how he wasn't normal, but that was by no means a bad thing.
Morty relaxed, learned, and grew. But he could only grow so much in a gym.
”Why don't you go on a Pokemon journey?” Makoto brought the subject up once during one of their walks through the graves; they were placing flowers and greeting some of the friendlier spirits that were there. Morty, as he preferred to be called at that point, hummed a small tune and handed Agrona more flowers to lay out. The Haunter did so with diligence, playing one in the purple headband the boy adorned. ”Hmmm. Why not? It sounds like fun. Why this all of a sudden?” His father gave a chuckle at this easy-going attitude, the grin on his face matching that of his son, ”Well, I'm...thinking about retiring in a few years. I want you to have the gym. Is that all right?” He didn't think Morty could look any happier in that moment. ”Really?! That'd be great! When can I go?”
Morty didn't leave right after he was asked, but when he did, Azalea was where he had his sights set. Or, at the very least, where he had been told would be a good place to start. He passed through the national park with his newly-given Litwick, Bellatrix, and Agrona. Battles came and went, and Agrona was more than capable of sending nearly all of those trainers on their way. Violet City was a day's stop, considering training along the way had helped him win his first badge. The Pokemon Center healed his Pokemon and he went on his way. ”The Ruins of Alph... That's a funny name.” He said it with a light-hearted laugh, and bent over to pick a roadside wildflower on his way in. It was stuck into the headband of his hair, hanging there brightly against the gloom of the ruins; he was rather odd for an almost thirteen year old.
”Morty, why do you keep doing that?” The curious Haunter repeated her question several times; he was catching various Pokemon. Some Unown, a Magikarp, a Smeargle, and even a Natu. Before he knew it, he was out of Pokeballs—and it didn't help that he released everything he caught. ”I only really like Ghost-types. I don't want to keep any Pokemon that won't be happy with me.” He was out of Pokeballs, though, but he didn't seem to mind. ”I'll get some more in the next town.” He adjusted the flower in his hair, tugged the scarf around his neck a little more snug, and continued to walk. The humming became more apparent as he walked through the broken down place, enjoying the markings on the walls. Agrona faded in and out to the beat of the humming.
His stroll was easy and he didn't really pay much attention to the people around him, but the boy in the blue outfit was rather interesting. ”Hello~” He called to the stranger with a smile, just as he had to every other person who challenged him to a battle, pausing a moment to glance over the outfit he was wearing. ”That's a neat outfit.” He honestly meant that. No mocking, but he was already walking away; he had places to be, after all. ”Have a good one.” But the ruins were rather pretty. Maybe I could stay just a little longer... I wonder how long this will take. He would have to call his father and see if there was a time limit.
But Morty wasn't going to be allowed to walk away without a challenge.
It wasn't his first battle ever, and it wouldn't be his last with the boy from the ruins, but the advantages he had were an eleven year long companion and his first gym badge. Bellatrix did what she could about halfway through, and then Agrona wiped the floor. It was no problem for her at the time. ”H...How...?” He seemed so surprised to lose. Morty never stopped smiling though, didn't quite understand why the boy looked the way he did, simply smiled more and waved at him as he left. ”It was nice battling you~” And with that, he made his way out of the ruins and headed towards the town for his second badge.
Azalea's gym proved to be another easy feat for him, and he took his time for a little bit, but he did pace through the small town without much thought after he won his gym badge. Bug-types were easy to beat, considering the dual typing of Bellatrix and Agrona's abilities just as a ghost. ”That wasn't so bad~” With that, he headed on his way, wandering into the Ilex Forest. He spent a little time wandering there, probably longer than he should've, because he ran into that boy from the ruins again. Another battle? Sure! Why not? That was the point to the whole journey thing. Another battle took place and, of course, he beat the boy again. He ran off to Goldenrod when he lost, leaving Morty in the forest.
Ilex Forest held some things in surprise for him, and it was only the beginning of a long and rather painful road. ”Hello~” His greeting hadn't changed, but the response to his greeting by the ghosts was...not quite what he expected. ”Who do you think you are?” ”This one...oh, he's dumb! He can see us! How stupid he must be to talk to us~” Why were they saying those things? That wasn't...that wasn't what he was used to. ”I'm just...” ”Oh, waah! You're just nothing!” They were so mean. ”Yeah, you're nothing at all. Why bother with this journey? I bet you couldn't even get through the forest!” Morty was shocked; he hadn't met ghosts like this. It had shaken him, but he ran off to the next city before the ghosts could say more.
He heard their laughter as he exited the forest.
”Grandma? What are you doing here?” Morty received quite the surprise when he walked into the city's Pokemon Center that day. His grandmother was there, smiling as she came to hug him. ”Ahh, my little Matsuba, I was just here to get something for your grandfather. I didn't expect to run into you.” ”Well, it's good to see you, Grandma. I've missed you all.” The old woman smiled at him and patted his shoulder from where she stood beneath him. ”I have something for you. Here, his name is Thanatos.” Inside the Pokeball she handed him was a Duskull, and he was happy for the present he received.
After getting the chance to see his grandmother, he went into the tunnels and fooled around for a while, not realizing Hayato had gotten the badge already. The tunnels, however, quickly drove him away. The ghosts down there were worse than the ones in the forest. They were sad and whispering, grabbing for him with needy fingers, begging him to end their misery. What are they talking about? No...make them stop! And he was out of the tunnels before it could bother him any more. He walked around with a shadow after that, received his badge with some battling, though he almost slipped and lost. It wasn't long before he made his way out of the city, faced once more by Hayato, and once more did he win. Bellatrix evolved. This was still good, right?
However...it was all changing. Something was wrong.
Home was the only place he could go from there, at least for a short visit. He had no intentions of battling his father just yet. No, he would save him for last. After a quick hello to his father and grandparents, he went to see the Kimono Girls. He was familiar with them, friendly with them, as they had given him a love of kimonos and of dancing. Though it had been meant as a joke originally, he had danced with them before. They were all relatively close. ”How have you been, ladies?” ”Matsuba.” They greeted him with smiles and hugs all around. He was quite fond of them, and vice versa. ”...Matsuba, what trouble you?” ”It's nothing at all. I'm just a bit tired.” He would've told them, but they had a guest. With an almost shadowed expression, he offered a bright grin to the boy that approached him, ”Hey, Hayato~ Long time, no see.”
Of course, he had been kidding and he had been waiting to be challenged to another battle, but it wasn't the case this time. He was asking for a tour of the city and, of course, Morty obliged. He took him all over the town that he called home, the various houses, the forest, the Burnt and Tin Towers. They were his favorite things. There wasn't much, but he loved it nonetheless. There was a lot of talking on his end, and a few comments from Hayato. He didn't mind much. Filling the space of silence was a talent he had. The final stop was back at the gym, where he greeted his father and grandparents, hugging them goodbye and that he would see them soon. Splitting ways, Morty went to the Pokemon Center, pausing to trade a Wooper he had caught with a Misdreavus; he named her Zilla.
And thus, the pair were back to their old habits. A battle outside of Ecruteak, which Morty essentially expected, took place. He took victory once more and the little Duskull evolved into Dusclops. Things were slowly normal for a while, and he tried to ignore the occasional voices that came at night, the ones that whispered in his ear and tormented him, begged for his help. He couldn't do anything. And when he reached Mahogany Town, relief was given in the form of another gym badge. It was there that he found a trainer abusing his Snorunt. ”What a horrible thing to do...” The little female was terrified and, while the trainer wasn't looking, he snatched the Pokemon and the Pokeball with Agrona's assistance. ”Don't worry, he won't hurt you anymore.” Seeing his smile, Narcissa gave a shaky nod and went with the new trainer.
But the voices kept getting louder.
Make them stop.... He begged to no one, didn't speak, simply shook with each step he took in the snow. The jacket was pulled tightly around him, burying his face in the scarf around his neck, holding back tears that threatened to spill. Shut up...! He wasn't ever vile in his words, but they wouldn't be quiet. ”Stupid boy.” No. ”You'll never be as good as your father.” That wasn't true. That was why he was out here! ”You'll end up just like your mother: good for nothing but pills and the bottle!” ”Be quiet!” But there was no one there except for Agrona to hear him yell, and he wanted to break down right there.
The Haunter just floated there, watching her friend with severe concern. He'd earned the badge from the Blackthorn City gym leader, evolving Narcissa into Froslass and taking over the Dragon-types with ease, but this was terrible. He was suffering. They weren't alone on that path. ”Hayato...” He greeted the boy without a smile, lacking and odd for him. A battle? ”...Uh, yeah, sure.” What else was new, after all? Everything was a blur. He was giving delayed responses, bad calls. He couldn't focus on anything except the three spirits hanging over his shoulders, flinching at every word they spit at him, shaking where he stood. It was a disappointing battle, even for himself, because he let his Pokemon down. When Agrona came to shortly after fainting, her only concern was for her trainer, and that was when he broke down.
”I'm s-sorry! I...I wish I could've done b-better, but...” The ghosts were still there, laughing and pointing at him, mocking him and his pain. The tears were there, accompanied by the sniffles and small hiccups. He had never cried, but he was scared, he didn't understand. ”Th-They wouldn't leave me alone... They're so m-mean...” He wasn't trying to use it as an excuse. No, that would be low of him. He just wanted them to stop. ”I...I see gh-ghosts. It's...It's my p-power...” Perhaps that wasn't the best way to put it. Because it didn't go as well for him as he thought it would.
The rest of the Ice Path was barely in his memory, because the next thing he was aware, Hayato was gone and he was sitting in a white room, a man with a clipboard speaking at him, ”...and your friend said you were having some severe hallucinations, seeing ghosts and the like? We'll call to the psychiatric wing and reserve a room for you.” The man swiftly walked out. ”...What?” Morty had asked the question too late. Where was he? A hospital? ”...He brought me to a hospital because he thinks I'm crazy.” There wasn't any joking in his tone. No, in fact, he quite irritated, angry with Hayato. Was this why his mother was the way she was?
Agrona helped Morty to swiftly make his way from the hospital, checking out, and leaving the hospital. He was quick to leave the city after making a stop at the Pokemon Center. If he saw Hayato, he didn't pay him any mind. No, he was ridiculously upset with the smaller boy. This was why he couldn't make friends. No one believed him, everyone thought he was crazy, and no one wanted to be friends with someone so strange. Any time after that he saw Hayato would not be a good one, and he would keep winning, because he had no intentions letting the jerk defeat him. If he didn't want to believe him, then fine.
Morty was done playing around.
”And success comes to us again.” It was said with a bit of a smile, defeating the Olivine gym leader. That was a goodness in itself. Passing through Ecruteak, Agrona evolved once more, and he found his Banette in a cave near the Lake of Rage. Aeron was a good addition to the team, considering he wrapped up the win against the Steel-type gym. He was being quick and any time he ran into Hayato again, the slightly younger man had been greeted with anything except a smile. He was not pleased with him and it would take time for that to go away; his good mood had almost officially been ruined. He tried to at least have fun around his Pokemon.
Getting to Cianwood was a bit of a challenge to get to, but his team was fully evolved, and riding in the arms of a Dusknoir was honestly not an issue. It was one of the instances he found he could physically communicate with those of non-corporeal world. Cianwood was one of the last gyms he needed to get a badge in, and several battles later, he had that badge in his hands. ”...It looks nice don't you think?” To anyone else, he was talking to the air, to himself, but he could see Agrona floating in front of him clear as day. ”It is nice, and that means one more badge to go~” He grinned, turning in circles to follow her with his eyes (to anyone else, he just looked silly, staring up at something as he spun around), ”That means a battle with Dad. Finally. I've been wai--”
Hayato. Morty wasn't sure how to react seeing the other male there, considering he kept beating him in their previous battles while traveling. ”Ahhh, look, birdy-boy has come to pay us a visit~” The voice could be heard, but Agrona could not be seen. ”Come on, be nice.” ”Why should I be nice to someone so mean?” He continued to spin around and watch ghost as she floated over to where Hayato was, tugging once at his hair and reaching for the collar of his shirt to yank on. Morty grabbed her arm and yanked her away, though Hayato likely saw him pulling at nothing until Agrona appeared in his hand. The realization that Morty wasn't entirely insane seemed to appear on his face. And he did something that made the blonde's perpetual good mood become perpetual once again:
He apologized.
”I have one more stop to make.” Agrona tottered beside him as he said it, the grin splitting wide on her face. ”I don't think your father stands a chance against me~” They were on their way to Ecruteak again, all of them, not just Morty and his Pokemon. Hayato and his Pokemon were with them. They had fallen into the habit of traveling as a pair, and Ecruteak wasn't far out of their way. It was the last stop before they headed in the direction of the Elite Four. They were there before long and he stood in the gym with sheer excitement. This is it... He had to wonder if he would even be able to stand up to his father in this way, beat him.
But he didn't have to worry. While he spent a little bit of time with his family, he was quick to defeat his father and earn that last badge, slipping it proudly into the spot that it belonged. He just grinned, so excited that he had finally done it, and that he had managed to save defeating his father for the last one. He remembered the monumental hug he received from the man, and from his grandparents. He was happy. He had finally done it, and now it was time to go to the next step: the Elite Four.
The journey was a bit of a long one, considering where they needed to go, a lot of pausing and a lot of walking. They grew closer in the time they did spend together, perhaps a little closer than they initially thought or could realize. At some point down the road, it wasn't strange for them to begin sleeping in the same tent rather than separate ones, perhaps using the excuse that there wasn't much room in one cave or another or something of the sort at first. The same blanket came at some point without any realization. It was one of those things that just sort of started happening.
Of course, Morty was not without his nightmares. Perhaps it would've been a good idea to get medication while he was in the hospital the first time. He heard the voices more at night, and in order to leave Falkner alone about it, he would leave the tent and sit elsewhere. This didn't last long, though, because at some point flying became an escape. Falkner would take him on one of the birds into the sky, where the voices couldn't reach him, couldn't bother him, couldn't drive him absolutely insane. He hated hearing them and crying because of them was not completely uncommon. Flying was one of few places her would remain silent as he held on and let the night air make everything bad go away.
How nice... He noticed the fresh air scent never left Falkner's clothes, even when they weren't in the sky.
They were almost there. ”Candy? I've...never had it.” Falkner probably would have been better off leaving the candy in the bag and keeping it to himself where it belonged. Candy was not something he was overly exposed to when he was young, and in receiving it for essentially the first time, Morty was bouncing off the walls of the tent. He was giggling and laughing and all over the place. It was hard to get him pinned down after that; he was a complete menace almost and Falkner likely learned his lesson. But, what goes up must come down, and Morty came down hard and fast. He practically crashed into the bed and when Falkner curled up for the night close, Morty latched on in his sleep and wouldn't let go until the morning. Cuddling and spooning in their sleep became another habit of theirs while traveling; it wasn't strange to them, it was just another thing they didn't notice.
”It's about time! I'm ready for this.” ”Not as ready as I am~” Agrona teased him whole-heartedly. The Elite Four. That was a rather huge deal considering where they were coming from, and they went into it with every confidence, separately though. What had they been expecting going into it? What did anyone else expect? Victory, of course, but...well, that was not exactly what came to them. They both eventually lost, not qualifying for anything in the Elite Four, but instead gaining their gym leader qualifications.
It was time to go home.
The journey back was the end of the two years, and Morty was about nineteen at this point. And, sadly, it was time for separation. Falkner went to Violet City for his gym and Morty had to return to Ecruteak in order to overtake the gym that his father was going to give up. It seemed, though, that everyone was obvious to how close their relationship had become, except for them. It wasn't something Morty would even think about, talk about, they were just friends, right? Then it would stay that way.
”Morty, I'm going to retire in a year, so you have some time. Take it off, okay?” ”A whole year? All right.” Honestly, he wasn't disappointed in the slightest! This was a perfect chance to visit Falkner! He was almost too eager to visit him, and he made his way there quickly, and he visited quite often. They would spend days watching the cherry blossoms and watching the leaves fall whenever autumn came around, growing closer to one another. It wasn't how it started at all. They had been...well, enemies at first, and now there they were. Morty couldn't be any happier with that.
But the ghosts wouldn't stop. Living where he did, ghosts were common and they bothered him. Falkner and everyone else could see it in the way he jumped and stuttered, like he was scared of his own shadow, something many of them had seen before. There was cause for concern. ”I'm f-fine.” It was a shaky fine, very unbelievable. Another breakdown was quickly around the corner, and he was found curled in a corner, shaking and crying, muttering on about horrible things that the ghosts were telling him, screaming at the to be silent. But they wouldn't, they just wouldn't. And that was where he was taken to the hospital again, on a more serious note, and was diagnosed with severe anxiety. He was given medication to help control it. He was back to his happy self quickly.
”Wow...I'm finally a gym leader.” The year had been worth the wait, even if now he wouldn't be able to visit Falkner as much. He didn't mind. ”Ahhh, this is long-awaited~ I can't wait for our first challenger.” The first challenger wouldn't come for a little while, but something else would come before that. It would devastate him almost. Falkner caught wind of his father being in a region called Remoor, and without actually coming to say goodbye, he sent Morty a letter, more of a “just in case” than anything else. Morty remembers crying and leaving the gym for the day to sit on top of Tin Tower in silence. He tried to get over it.
But he was left alone.
”So this is Remoor?”
It wasn't anything important, anything all that fascinating, all that great. He was there to find Falkner and to perhaps take a little vacation. But, wherever he looked, he could not find his friend. Three years passed, and there was nothing. ”Agrona, where could he be?” ”I don't know, Morty, but...the letter said he would be here.” The state of the region seemed to deteriorate, and the politics between the gym leaders that were there and Pravus were steadily getting worse. He was slowly caught up in them, almost forgetting why he was there originally. The ghosts there from the war were hard on him and he upped his does of the anti-anxiety medication as recommended by the doctor.
Then the infection hit. ”This is terrible... Now we can't leave.” At that point, Morty had assumed that Falkner had gone back to Johto and Morty was prepared to return there himself. But the infection came the wall was erected around the city quickly, forbidding anyone from really entering or leaving without a passport. No one could leave the island. ”...I guess we need to make our new living here.” Agrona's words unsettled him. Would they even be able to leave? Could he even send a letter to Falkner? Perhaps they knew, because of the news. He could only hope.
He makes his living now in a small apartment, minding his own business, trying to ignore all the ghosts from the war that want to bother him, that do bother him. His health has declined, he's deteriorated past what he really should be. He appears awful and sick, but people know of his powers, pay him to ask the ghosts to leave. He does what he can to make everything okay. But without Falkner...everything is terrible. He can't fly, he can't make the voices go away, he doesn't know where his friend is.
He doesn't know he's dead.
Pokemon:
Name: Agrona.
Species: Gengar.
Level: Sixty-two.
Gender: Female.
Ability: Levitate.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: His first Pokemon ever—this was when he started seeing ghosts for the first time.
Personality: Agrona is a rather interesting creature, full of personality, and almost your stereotypical Ghost-type Pokemon. She loves playing practical jokes on people, loves teasing and irritating people, especially during battle. She makes a wonderful habit of disappearing and reappearing in other places when facing an opponent. She honestly finds it funny, mostly the reaction of the other person, and she is definitely a bit of a sore loser. She's known to pout when she doesn't win. She's a loving creature, believe it or not, and she's very attached to Morty. She loves her trainer to no extent and shares several of his traits, as well as a love of incense and flowers. She will collect random flowers sometimes and give them to people, at least once they get past how she is on the outside. She is also seen to have a small crush on Falkner, seeing as she offers him flowers quite more often than anyone else.
Name: Thanatos.
Species: Dusknoir.
Level: Fifty-six.
Gender: Male.
Ability: Pressure, Frisk.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: Given to him by his grandmother in Goldenrod City; she was visiting and took the chance to give it to him as a Duskull.
Personality: The social stereotype on the outside described as strong and silent and mean, which isn't the case at all. Thanatos doesn't talk that often, but also doesn't really see much reason to. However, as scary as he can be on the outside just by appearance, he is a very nice ghost. He is friendly and he is helpful, barely has a wicked ounce in his body, and that only appears if the situation truly calls for it. Threaten his friends and trainer? That's a big no-no in his book, and you'll just how scary he can be. He makes for a great listener, though, considering his rather silent nature. He also seems to have a fondness for poffins and sweets, as well as children. He was always attached to Morty when he was younger, and a tad protective. His received his trait from Morty's grandmother, his original trainer, and those traits are still following him even after all of that.
Name: Bellatrix.
Species: Chandelure.
Level: 55
Gender: Female.
Ability: Flash Fire, Flame Body, Infiltrator.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: Given to him by his father at the start of his journey.
Personality: Bellatrix is ridiculously full of energy, and has been ever since she was a little Litwick. She is a playful ghost, loving to play with her ghostly powers and with fire especially. It's almost as if her childish ways were never left behind, as if a child died and the spirit turned into a Litwick, and over time, this Chandelure. She's a troublemaker, much like a child, but she loves to play and she has a love of childish things. Shiny things? She's all over that! Her flames reflect in it and it's just so pretty that she takes a love of it immediately. She also loves helping, like a child would to every extent, and has held up the tradition around Morty to light to the incense whenever he puts it out or whenever she first gets up in the morning. She also has a tendency to search for the approval of others through various means.
Name: Narcissa.
Species: Froslass.
Level: 52
Gender: Female.
Ability: Snow Cloak, Cursed Body.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: An abused Pokemon he more or less stole (he prefers the term rescued) and took with him on his journey.
Personality: Narcissa, despite the meaning of the name, is a terrified creature. She is strong and tactful in battle and will do whatever Morty needs her to do, but socially, she is scared of just about everything. She was abused in her early years as a Snowrunt and, until Morty came along, she believed she was going to die. He saved her life and she loves him for that in more ways than one. She is very attached to Morty and will often hide behind him in any setting, will not speak, just take comfort in the fact that he is there for her and to protect her. She is very soft-spoken, but is a very gentle creature, unlike how other Froslass of her species have acted before. She is very feminine and can be friendly. She is usually the best company to keep out of the Pokeball, albeit quiet and insightful. She can get a little excited and talkative like Morty sometimes, but only when she's really comfortable. She's a believer in hugs.
Name: Aeron.
Species: Banette.
Level: 47
Gender: Male.
Ability: Insomnia, Frisk, Cursed Body.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: A Pokemon he collected along the way, being a little more trouble than he was worth at the time, but stuck in a rather sticky situation in a cave.
Personality: Aeron got his troublesome side from Agrona, the part that likes to play tricks and pranks on other people, and he's grown to separate and do those things himself. Most of his pranks, however, are completely playful and harmless. He always apologizes afterwords and he tends to be a friendly ghost for the most part. He's also excessively clingy to Morty, in a childishly possessive way, and he can often be found clinging to the man's shoulder or back or side whenever he's out of his Pokeball and not playing pranks like he normally is. He will look at you the wrong way if you try to hug Morty—almost like you need his permission.
Name: Zilla.
Species: Mismagius.
Level: 46
Gender: Female.
Ability: Levitate.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: He received her through a trade as a Misdreavus.
Personality: Honestly, she's a better motherly figure than his own mother was. She's always very concerned about the Pokemon on the team and about Morty and his health. She is always caring about them, finding ways to act more like a mother than a Pokemon or even a mean ghost. She has a schedule she goes about during the day, pressing Morty to eat and to take his pills. She keeps things organized more often than not around the house and in Morty's life. She's probably the reason he even takes his pills half the time, and he respects her in a way he would a good mother. She is always worried about him. She is also fairly protective of him in a motherly way, almost glowering over anyone who gets too close and taking a severe interest in his love life.
Name: Merikh
Species: Ghastly
Level: 11
Gender: Male
Ability: Levitate.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: One of the Pokemon that had been lurking about in his gym.
Personality: A child to the core, Merikh is a troublesome little creature. Prone to throwing tantrums when he doesn't get his way or when someone doesn't react how they want him to, he is a huge pouter and far more trouble than he is worth sometimes. He really is like a young, spoiled child, and it often doesn't help that Morty tends to shrug it off as childish tendencies and nothing more. He's definitely the epitome of a spoiled brat in the afterlife, and one can really only hope that he matures with age, though most of the other ghosts seem to think this won't happen. He does have his better moments, though, tending to copy the better actions of the other ghosts that are around him, so maybe there is some hope with him coming out better than he is now.
Name: Salem
Species: Drifloon
Level: 8
Gender: Male.
Ability: Aftermath, Unburden, Flare Boost.
Current Experience: 0/?
Origins: This one just...started following him around. He makes a good addition, though.
Personality: Salem almost never speaks, young as he is. He's quite air-headed, all puns aside, seeming not to catch onto anything after a little bit. He's honestly ridiculously cute in his own little way, acting much just like the balloon in the background or even as the object that is just capable of making people smile. He will often stick the little hands at the end of the strings into Morty's headband and just get pulled along with him. He also likes being held like he is a balloon, and will often wrap his strings tightly around someone's hand, as though he needs that sort of security to feel like he isn't going to just float away. He's the one that irrevocably makes everyone else on the team smile.