Post by Nephele Valora on Jul 14, 2015 8:55:34 GMT -6
Nephele Valora
UNDER THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE, MY HEAD IS BLOODIED
BUT UNBOWED
BUT UNBOWED
The late afternoon on the edges of New Pallet was a quiet one, the citizens preparing dinner in their houses, finishing chores, ranch animals herded into their barns and respective stalls to make way for what was usually the symphony of the evening—though not of sound, but of sight. No, the rains and recent ferals had all but driven the sound to the monotony of tasks, the drudge of daily life as it were, but soon the sky would open for all to bask in a glorious ambiance; to those living in New Pallet nearest the woodland, the sun’s tilt began to stretch shadows, almost bend the trees who praised the light arms of bark and leafy fingers outstretched to dare a glancing touch before all melted under a honeyed, early evening’s swell of staining hues.
Those entering New Pallet from the Winding Road, might first notice a change in landscape; no longer as rocky and cavernous as the land nearer Port City, green has reclaimed the world it seemed, trees becoming more frequent, and clustered together like good friend sharing company. Perhaps most welcome of these features is that the ground begins to roll into hills, waves of earth, stilled and quiet except the capricious wind that whispers though. But then, along the wind, are the first signs of New Pallet—the warm aroma of flowers. Then, a spectacle seemingly appears, as though to play tricks upon traveler’s eyes; All before them lay covered in white as though in the humidity of this summer something maintained humor enough to evoke a chill upon the land—ah, but then the wind rushes past, and the earth seems to dance and sway revealing individual petals, flowers even, they an audience to the setting sun until both close and fold into the earth, asleep. It is a magical scene with an enveloping aura of home residing all about the ground, as if sacred.
Though in the backdrop of this vesper’s bloom lurked that which only intended to sully the scene, as it had just that morning; the grey monsters—fat clouds creeped and flattened under the last of the sun’s summer rays, darkening as it slipped nearer the horizon. Indeed, the world lay dampened, the tones of the earth saturated, still so very visibly wet and slippery. It only harkened to the truth that, the symphony had to come to a close, and soon, the golden and blushing pigments of the sky would envelop the sky. Soon, but not yet.
Farmers and ranchers ushered their playing children into the house, recalling old folktales where rain causes headaches or come could feel a storm coming in their bones. Perplexed, the youth run inside their respective houses, leaving the town all but quiet to the merchants to tend to their stalls, late night shoppers and other ilke who dwell in the town’s center.
Nephele entered then, walked over the hill to watch the white flowers as they began to close toward the town, an old home of hers that she had not expected to see have grown so big in her six year hiatus—though, she mused, it was plenty of time. Departing from Micah’s company and his two pokemon companions, she sought her own way, to look over the town to what might still exist here that lay engraved in her memory, for this was where she really grew up, thought she. This was where she became everything she was at present.
She glanced down at Her Riolu, unexpectedly meeting his weary eyes. Surely, he had not walked this long in a while, having been cooped up in a pokeball for Arceus knows how long. Her sympathy went out to him, his slumped walk eyes looking as though they wondered if she might consider carrying him again. Nephele chuckled, thus extracting a low sigh from her companion. "I’m not going to baby you, Perseus," began she, a truthful though entirely sly look on her face. She covered her mouth to cease her giggling, her expression becoming more serious, "But I will never ask you to do something I will not at least try to do myself." Perseus noted the gravity of these words and looked at her harder.
He understood the meaning of the words, the promise she had given just then, and felt something suddenly deeper than mere companionship toward Nephele. It did not seem any longer that it would be merely her barking commands at her, but as though, truly, they were a team. He looked away, confused. Though, maybe, he was just imagining things.
The city had begun to let those of the daylight dally in their household, and more nightly folk began to arrive, umbrellas in hand, or perhaps secretly carrying them in their bags as they walked along. The air of an attack did not really seem evident in their paces, in their soft gazes. They were content, happy even, and entirely unsuspecting. Was the rain something that comforted them, perhaps? Did attacks not occur when there was rain on the way, or when it rained? Nephele pursed her lips, slightly cautious. "Keep alert, Perseus." The warning tone in her voice was uncharacteristic of what Perseus knew of her thus far, and was immediately on edge, taking her words to heart.
Coming up to a bulletin board near a more official looking building—perhaps legislative?—she read the text to herself, summarizing it. No chain of command, no direct orders, only to kill on site and be rid of the vermin. Again, she sighed. In truth, it were humans that were encroaching, was it not? Vermin. She flinched at the word. "Call me a sympathizer.—Dammit." She looked around, hoping to catch the eye of another walking around, maybe a security personnel for the town? Surely a militia was at least up and running?
She pulled from the board, looking around, noticing one human being of interest, perhaps a look of knowing in their eyes? In this late evening though, it might as well have been shadows. "Excuse me!" called she, "I'm a trainer sent by the Ambassador of Port City to help alleviate the threat. Can you tell me anything about the attacks? When they happen, how far they've gotten into the city?" From what she knew, nothing had gotten far past the windmill, but locals had recent, if not exaggerated news.
| "Nephele Speaks" | Nephele Thinks |
| <"Perseus Speaks"> | <Perseus Thinks> |
| "Others Speak" | "Others Speak" |
deltra of gangnam style
x2 at lvl 1 
x1 at lvl 2