(OOC: Apologies for the lateness, we were in the process of rehoming a parakeet. All is well now! For Jovyne, if I ever overstep your design vision, Inteleon, make sure to shoot me a message and I will fix it up in a click! A bit longer post, since I'm trying to establish Rory's backstory a bit. Apologies there too.
)
Rory's perpetual grin wobbled as they watched the professor move around like a Sawbuck two decades past it's prime. This mister needs some vitamins and walks somewhere high and sunny, stat. They would have offered, but they left all vitamins at home in favor of their portable trekking poles and dried berries.
Shame on them, honestly. Rory never needed any of that stuff, but there's still such a build-up of them that their parents could open an apothecary while Rory is off. Sharing is caring, and now someone, fifty-to-fifty the professor himself, was going to die on them due to vitamin deficiency.
They will make sure to drag others into sufficient sunlight before that comes to pass. Can't do much for the professor short of punching a hole through his ceiling- perhaps after some training, they could convince their new partner to do just that. As thanks for introducing them.
Rory had to admit that none of the presented types spoke to them, although they had the grace and adoring respect that they wouldn't dare to admit that out loud. Rock types were the Gallant tradition, with steel and ground types in tow. Hardy, reliable to a fault and co-joined with their family at the hip for generations now. And per that tradition, their parents should have helped them carry an egg down from the mountains- or arrange them one through inheritance in.. these special times.
Grandma's Steelix was always the first one to come to mind when they thought about this. It was far-fetched to think it could be still hiding around the corner, yes, but the ancient Pokemon loved their family profoundly and always allowed Rory to ride on it's head... Rory has been hoping that it would return for them but ah well, it a bit too late for that particular daydream.
As was usual these past few months, this tradition seems to have crumbled alongside the rest. Rory couldn't help but feel a sting of hurt- yes, the Gallant family was slowly rotting through the seams that made it but they believed that them coming of age would warrant
something. A shake-up, opportunity to do everything right by them that their relatives would pick up on...
And then Rory was outside the door, the first Gallant that needed to get their first Pokemon from a Professor in... forever, they suppose.
"Here's to another forever, then." They mumbled, reaching out for the grass-labeled pokeball, thinking of mountain meadows and ever-surviving ivy miles above it. They couldn't in good conscience bring a fire pokemon that high. As for water... Well, that just goes against their nature. They might as well disown themselves while they are at it.
Their rough hands cradled the Pokeball, rocking it and patting it as if it was a newly hatched Skitty. The Pokemon inside apparently did not appreciate the coddling.
With a poof, the small Pokemon was out, catapulting itself from Rory's hands with a push of their oversized feet, earning a started yelp from Rory. The Jovyne dived into Rory's wild hair, grabbing a fistful to hold onto as she perched on their left shoulder with their tail wrapped around the back of Rory's neck in what was an instinctual attempt for further balance but doubled as a threat to cease and desist.
The threat shot right past Rory, as they guffawed and booped the offending Pokemons long snout, the Jovyne accepting it with a twitch of their bright pink eyes- but she frantically dived further into the curtain of hair to escape the rest of Rory's pats. "Professor, just be glad the spirits you gathered here are rambunctious, this little gal included! High spirits are in
high demand nowadays."
