With a final sigh, as if realizing the futility of their hope, the crowd deflated. Like the cotton candy threading her fingers, she reflected, the crowd had stretched thin to the point of no return, still milling in larger groups around the edges of the festival, but deflating fatally within until it dispersed completely. No longer was the crowd a crowd, but a secluded milling of tireless souls, unable to close their eyes to the festivities. The group, too, had deflated, and left by their own routes, some to the grand and some to the mediocre. Phi was left on the bench to think.
"Over silver oceans of bowing grass
beaded by sources obscure.
Over splendor of silence, so sweet and so pure
Dare we tremble?
Over tranquil susurration of river and stream
running forever beneath star's sheen,
guided by moon's frosty breath
Dare we breathe?
Beside the partner's of our dreams
Hearts drumming the same tune
From the beginning of time to our last afternoon..."
The words were silken, recited from memory, brought smoothly forth from mind to vocal cords to saunter in a ballet with the wind. True to form, they were slowly spoken, clearly articulated. Each punctuation warranted a pause. They rang in the air with charming allure, before she swept them away with a deep, internal sigh.
Spoken so many times, with so little answers, they sounded undoubtedly filthy.
With a sorrowful flare, the sun fell again to death, its rays deepening the horizon to dark ruby. How tragic, that its sentiment be interrupted by imposing buildings, breaching the display and spreading long shadows in their wake, so that she only dared to imagine the magnificence of the complete picture. Oh well.
"Come on, lazy-lug," Phi muttered good-heartedly as the horizon faded into ink, rousing her partner out of a deep sleep, his limbs strewn across the bench, mouth opened slightly to a drizzle of drool. He muttered a sound that sounded like a grumble of sorts, and began to drag his way halfheartedly behind the girl as she drifted away from the bench, towards the hotel room they had acquired before the festival began. Her hands were clasped behind her back in a contemplative gesture, and it was only to another, louder remark that broke the air between them that she gazed back towards the Skuntank. As if in response, her voice, sliding into the air with a grunt of admission, replied, "Yes, yes. You may completely blame your interrupted nap and lack of focus in battle tomorrow on me staying at the festival too late."
The Skuntank growled pleasantly in reply, and ambled a little faster, akin to a child who was complaining only until he received his wish. The comparison stirred something within Phi, but only subtly, and the two set off briskly towards their beds without another thought uttered aloud. All that was left to be heard was the sandy slip of a hotel key, a homely creak of the door, and the rustle of fabric as her bag was removed and thrown lightly to the ground, her smaller bag set delicately on a hook, the overcoat placed protectively atop it, and the blankets enclosed over her body as she slipped into the musty-smelling hotel bed. The Skuntank took one last, heaving leap that caused the bed to bow slightly beneath his weight, laid himself out above the blanket at her side, and snuffled back into his beloved slumber, the mound of a tail curling away from his back as he slipped farther away from consciousness.
Phi's last thoughts, after a reassurance of the plan for battle, were of how glad she was that her Skuntank's poison was secreted by will, and not inherently in his skin or fur like some other poison type Pokemon.
It allowed her to have moments like this.
(OOC: Anyone is fine for Phi to battle.)
"Over silver oceans of bowing grass
beaded by sources obscure.
Over splendor of silence, so sweet and so pure
Dare we tremble?
Over tranquil susurration of river and stream
running forever beneath star's sheen,
guided by moon's frosty breath
Dare we breathe?
Beside the partner's of our dreams
Hearts drumming the same tune
From the beginning of time to our last afternoon..."
The words were silken, recited from memory, brought smoothly forth from mind to vocal cords to saunter in a ballet with the wind. True to form, they were slowly spoken, clearly articulated. Each punctuation warranted a pause. They rang in the air with charming allure, before she swept them away with a deep, internal sigh.
Spoken so many times, with so little answers, they sounded undoubtedly filthy.
With a sorrowful flare, the sun fell again to death, its rays deepening the horizon to dark ruby. How tragic, that its sentiment be interrupted by imposing buildings, breaching the display and spreading long shadows in their wake, so that she only dared to imagine the magnificence of the complete picture. Oh well.
"Come on, lazy-lug," Phi muttered good-heartedly as the horizon faded into ink, rousing her partner out of a deep sleep, his limbs strewn across the bench, mouth opened slightly to a drizzle of drool. He muttered a sound that sounded like a grumble of sorts, and began to drag his way halfheartedly behind the girl as she drifted away from the bench, towards the hotel room they had acquired before the festival began. Her hands were clasped behind her back in a contemplative gesture, and it was only to another, louder remark that broke the air between them that she gazed back towards the Skuntank. As if in response, her voice, sliding into the air with a grunt of admission, replied, "Yes, yes. You may completely blame your interrupted nap and lack of focus in battle tomorrow on me staying at the festival too late."
The Skuntank growled pleasantly in reply, and ambled a little faster, akin to a child who was complaining only until he received his wish. The comparison stirred something within Phi, but only subtly, and the two set off briskly towards their beds without another thought uttered aloud. All that was left to be heard was the sandy slip of a hotel key, a homely creak of the door, and the rustle of fabric as her bag was removed and thrown lightly to the ground, her smaller bag set delicately on a hook, the overcoat placed protectively atop it, and the blankets enclosed over her body as she slipped into the musty-smelling hotel bed. The Skuntank took one last, heaving leap that caused the bed to bow slightly beneath his weight, laid himself out above the blanket at her side, and snuffled back into his beloved slumber, the mound of a tail curling away from his back as he slipped farther away from consciousness.
Phi's last thoughts, after a reassurance of the plan for battle, were of how glad she was that her Skuntank's poison was secreted by will, and not inherently in his skin or fur like some other poison type Pokemon.
It allowed her to have moments like this.
(OOC: Anyone is fine for Phi to battle.)