lifeaftr | It's a whole new place, With a brand new Attitude!

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It's a whole new place, With a brand new Attitude!

Who: Guzma and Foster
What: Two losers talk about pokemon. :B
When: Backdated to about 9/20
Where: Nuidan
Warnings: None for now!

[Guzma likes this new island. Between all the goods they're been able to harvest and find (bees, he's talking mostly about bees), the tasks set by the local god have been mainly keeping him occupied and busy. He's never really been a work horse like this, but when he sets his mind to it, Guzma is extremely capable and determined, and will get the job done and done right. He's a fast learner and easy to adapt and overcome hurdles. Plus, the air here is clean and fresh - if a little earthy - and his pokemon are certainly flourishing with the exercise as well as he is. All the things he's done has kept them all fit, and the more he does, the less time he has to dwell on Luna's disappearance...again. And how the nagging feeling that this time, it might be for good.

He's been working on repairing the fences and paddocks to keep the grazing animals inside, much like he promised Harv from the get-go. He's no carpenter, or construction worker, but he can utilize a nail and hammer, and other simple tools as well. He thatched his own goddamn roof on Enso, thank you very much, he can handle a stupid fence.

Of course, he does have his pokemon out to assist as well. Golisopod is helping him with the heavy lifting and lumber, as well as cutting pieces of wood and holding things in place for Guzma to nail together. Ariados, on the other hand, is supporting them by weaving together the wood with her thick and very sturdy silk webs - they repel water and have an insane durability and breaking strength. Besides, a thick glob of her silk works better than cement could (according to Guzma), and she makes for a great inspector of the males' handiwork. She has a very critical eye when it comes to building something meant to keep things in place...

After several hours, the trio are taking a well earned break. Guzma is laying with his back against the side of Golisopod, who's meditating calmly by the section of fence they're redone, eyes closed though he's ever alert. Ariados is snoozing away of Guzma's lap, legs curled up under her almost like a cat. There's a cleaned out bit of fabric that once held some fruits and other foods Guzma brought for lunch, now just crumbs and peels, as well as a very empty water jug. Between the three of them, a gallon or two of water could go easy.

They're...taking it easy. And if Harv doesn't appreciate them taking a break, then Guzma is going to flip him the double bird and shave him. Stuff a pillow with that shaggy fluff, so help him... He earned a break!]

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[You'd think weird creatures wouldn't give Foster much pause. Not with the way he looks. The ways he's become. Not with the reason for that change of shape.

But Foster knows what a Golisopod is. He's seen one. He knows what it looks like.

And walking past, his attention someplace else, he still recognises its form.

And stops. Hesitates.

He keeps going for a few steps, then slows again before circling back--slowly, with clear uncertainty. Then starts as though to leave, turning only his head, and looks down at the massive Pokemon from a strange, sharp angle. He doesn't actually walk away.

Instead, slowly, with excruciating deliberateness, he begins to walk towards them. It's so careful that his three-toed hooves can barely produce the crunch as they flatten the fresh grass.

If he gets close enough, he'll reach out, still slow, with one heavy paw--to try and touch the Pokemon with a claw.

If he doesn't get close enough--well, he'll look like a huge weirdo anyway, now won't he?]

[The thing about insects is, they're extremely keen on their surroundings, and no matter how stealthy one may be, they can still feel the variations and shifts in the air and the earth - subtle vibrations and changes. Plus, those antennae are excellent at scenting things, and the musk of Foster's more, ah...nonhuman side is hard to miss, especially close up.

But Golisopod doesn't really move other than the faintest twitch of his antennae and the slow lift and fall of his carapace as he breathes. In fact, it looks like he hasn't noticed at all he's about to be touched...

But Guzma sure did.]

Wouldn't do that, homeboy, if y'plan on seeing t'morrow.

[Guzma opens his eyes, and his expression is dark, as he glaces down in his lap at Ariados, who has her eyes locked on Foster's hands, legs like taut springs ready to be loosed, and her fangs gleaming with a deadly venom...one that would be fatal in a place with no immediate antidote or even basic medical facilities. She is an ambush predator, after all, and sitting quietly and not making a sound her her specialty. Another inch and she may very well have sprung.

Hand to yourself, honey.]

[Foster stops, though only nominally because of the warning. It's more because of the term of address.

'Homeboy' is the kind of word that you can go a year or more without hearing and you don't think anything of it until you hear it again. His eyes turn to Guzma for the first time since he spotted Golisopod, studying him while maintaining eye contact.]

You shouldn't have warned me.

[It's cool, but with a loaded tone to it--disappointment and criticism even each other out into a practised neutrality. He's obviously already lost his interest in Guzma, though. Hhis gaze wanders, briefly, to Ariados, looking over her purple and yellow legs, her black and red body, her sharp eyes and gleaming horn and mandibles.

And then to Golisopod.

There his attention lingers.]

It's real.

[Whatever laden weight was in his first sentence is totally gone. This isn't wonder, or disbelief. It's factual. He doesn't know... how he feels about that. Not that he would feel anything from it. But he's more aware of it right now: the air-filled, empty space where a reaction should be.]

[Guzma narrows his eyes, but puts a soothing hand on his spider's abdomen and she immediately begins to relax, the predatory look in her eyes dropping and the tension in her legs loosening as well. She looks at her trainers, but Guzma's got his eyes on Foster - he hasn't dropped his predatory expression, especially when this weirdo doesn't back off from his partner. You don't want a warning, bro? Well, he can certainly oblige if you make any funny moves toward his buddy.

Golisopod actually twitches its antennae and opens its eyes at fast, looking Foster in the eye and blinking slowly. He glances to Guzma then back again, and exhales, though he doesn't look as at peace as he was before Foster arrived. He can feel the tension rolling off his trainer, and he responds to it. Golisopod, however, isn't as trigger-happy as Ariados is - and waits until things really escalate if he has to throw his weight around.]

Real as you are funny looking, My Little Ponyta - what they heck you want, anyway? Ain't no one tell you staring is rude?

[Foster doesn't know what a Ponyta is--as far as he can discern, the 'ta' on the end is an affectation--but he also doesn't come from a world where 'My Little Pony' exists, so honestly that was a completely nonsensical thing to say from his perspective.

Which might explain the slow, unperturbed blink that Guzma receives in response.]

I wanted to see if it was real. That's all.

[His eyes are bright--or brighter, anyway, though his eyelids hold at half-mast--and he flashes a prehistorically toothy smile.

Is he happy to see one, or not? He doesn't actually know.

He does back up, just a step or two, but instead of giving space to Guzma and his companions, he is giving himself space to bend down further--]

....I haven't seen a Pokemon in a long time.

[This is one of those moments where, had Foster the skills, he could conceivably come off as reasonably normal.

Unfortunately, he doesn't. Which is why it's like this instead.]

Edited 2018-10-14 03:19 (UTC)

[All at once, Guzma bristles, expecting this asshole to be just like that one with the glasses, the nerdy shitheel that treated his Pokemon like things, objects with no will, soul, or brain, and his fists clench tightly into the fabric of his hoodie's pockets. No way is he letting someone ogle his partner like he's a piece of jewelry or a museum exhibit. A collectible.

But, the fire dies down when this weirdo actually makes it so he's really seen a Pokemon. Not something on a screen or in a book, but a living one. He's still wary, and Golisopod shifts away from Foster and closer to his trainer, sensing Guzma's discomfort, but Guzma sighs and puts a hand on the large insect's side and shoos Ariados off his lap to stand.]

Y'all clearly haven't looked in a mirror lately, huh? [He snorts, but it's less biting than he could have made it. He still doesn't rightfully like or trust this guy, but he's interested. How does this...whatever the heck he may be, know about Pokemon? Do they exist outside his own world? I mean, it'd make sense, given the Ultra Beasts are seemingly otherworldly Pokemon-esque beings, so... Ugh, all this world hopping crap is too confusing. Let's cut out the middle man.]

How do you know about Pokemon?

[Foster answers Guzma with another question, as is his wont. His expression brightens up a little in doing so, like perhaps nothing invigorates him more than asking questions he doesn't give people time to answer.]

Do you know of a place called Alola?

I visited, briefly... it wasn't a very good time for it, haha, there was... a lot of sun, but I did...

....mmmm.

I did make a friend.

[Where Foster's expression brightens, Guzma's sours for a moment - he's not exactly keen on not getting what he asked for, but the question makes him actually raise both brows this time. Huh...could this be someone from home? No one he recognizes, obviously, given Foster's...everything, but still. Perhaps a kindred spirit? Ah, nope, a tourist, probably, but... Fuck, he's homesick, though Guzma would never admit it. Getting to actually talk about home, heck even just pokemon would do wonders for him right now.]

I'm from Alola, yeah. [He grins a bit, at the remark about the sun. Oh, you sweet summer child.] Homie, there is always sun in Alola - always - but our summers are pretty wild, even as a native. Pretty sure you can swim through the air if'n y'all were up for it.

[Humidity, man, it fucking sucks. He shifts a bit, so he's actually sitting up a bit higher against the side of his pokemon, and gives the big bug an affectionate smack on one of his huge arms.] Did ya get yourself a pokemon? One like Golisopod?

[Foster remembers the humidity. He remembers it with surprising clarity, considering his condition at the time... then again, he'd spent the entire visit in a heavy, pyjama-like costume to protect his temporarily vampiric body from the sun. He had no idea what the creature it was modelled after actually looked like, let alone what it was called. Some reddish, fanged thing with leathery wings.

Covered head to toe in soft, cuddly fleece like that, the only reason he didn't die from heat stroke was that he was technically already dead.]

I don't know if I'd say I got a Pokemon.

[Foster smiles thinly at Guzma, although his eyes drift off the man in recollection. It's a strange time period--one in which he was still retaining and losing memories at an equal rate on a good day. His ability to tell this story at all is pretty unusual.]

Some woman tried to give one to me, and I didn't want it.

Apparently, no was the wrong answer.

It stalked me in my shadow for weeks... eventually I got tired of waiting and offered myself to it freely! I invited it to do whatever it wished--if it wanted to kill me, then this was its chance!

[His voices rises in intensity with each successive word, until here he laughs--

This is basically fourteen different red flags masquerading as a story.]

Obviously, it didn't.

[Ha ha.]

Eventually I found out it was called Mimikyu... it liked banana.

Edited 2018-10-22 04:38 (UTC)

[Guzma listens, raising his brow at a woman trying to pawn off a Pokemon free of charge, or without trying to complete a trade. It's...well, it's not as unusual as one might think. Team Skull used to pawn off stolen Pokemon all the time, to the highest bidder, and there are always other rotten people that just abandon their beloved partners because they're not strong enough, or cute enough, or whatever other excuse they can think of. Just to get rid of them. Guzma may be a thief and a thug, but he never could bring himself to really and truly hurt a Pokemon. Not to the point of making it bleed or die. That's...that's beyond his level of cruelty.

He's not like other people he knows.

Raising a brow, the man says nothing to the, uh...rather grim description of letting a stalking Pokemon do whatever. Does this guy really even know what Pokemon are? How they think? How they act? Sure there are wild and extremely dangerous types that wouldn't hesitate to kill someone to eat them or drive them off their turf, but a tamed Pokemon caught by a trainer is...well. Tame! More or less, anyway. They're far more docile after living with people.

But a Mimikyu--]

Ah, yeah...them li'l stinkers are all sorts'a creepy. No wonder it was following after you and y'all got the heebie-jeebies. It's a ghost type, yeah? But supposedly them things are real lonely Pokemon what just wanna be closer to people. S'why they dress up like them Pikachu, since everybody and their mom's Rockruff love Pikachu. S'practically the posterchild of every brand name out there nowadays.

Did ya end up raising it? They're supposedly real good pokemon to train - tough cookies despite how y'look at 'em. Not too many weaknesses, either, being part fairy, too. [He shrug.] Not my style, but I gotta give credit where credit is due, yo.

[Foster could have given Guzma more information, but he's forgotten some details. Like the fact that this woman had multiple Mimikyu. Or the fact that she did, in fact, tell Foster what its gender was. Mimikyu never gave him any indication that it wanted to be either one, though, and Foster, at the time, was not inclined to worry about gender for something that couldn't correct him.]

Raising--

[Is that what it's called? Does a ghost need raising?]

Mmmm. I don't know. We were... partners. It followed me home, slept in my bed. It was... always present, in my shadow. Helpful. Maybe too helpful. Eventually it was rescued from me... you know, for its own good.

[If nothing else, Mimikyu had been extremely attached to him. They were two of a kind--he wasn't lonely by any means, but they had a lot in common.

But he hadn't cared, at the time. It was only later that the bitterness set in, and eventually the desire to at least free Mimikyu from its punishment... punishment for its role in his crimes.

It was quite possibly one of the only (un)living things that would or could associate with him voluntarily. It's what he deserves, he knows.

Still, he can't quite keep his mouth shut.]

I did try to get it back, but... all I got was reassurance that it was doing 'fine.'

[Partners. Yeah, that's the word that sticks. Pokemon are partners, and they seldom are chosen by the trainer, but instead the other way around. A real partner that is - the one that will stay by your side for life - the ones...

That you don't give away.

Guzma's face darkens, and no matter what sort of sob story or self loathing this guy has about himself (been there, done that), his eyes burn with fury and disgust. He has hurt Pokemon, he has stolen them from their trainers, but he has and will never abandon or give up his Pokemon, his partners. The only reason he isn't clawing to get back to them is because Guzma knows his three left behind are safe. That's the only thing keeping him going - the chance to see them again.

They didn't care what sort of person he was, what sorts of things he did, they loved him unconditionally. They wanted and needed nothing more than his care and his companionship. That's what Pokemon are. It's why they're so prized when you get a goo one that stays with you for so long. They become...part of you. Part of your life, your family. You team.]

Then you oughta shoved your ding-dang fist down that joker's throat til y'all grabbed his tongue and demanded they give you your Pokemon back. You don't stop until they give it back, and you don't take no one else's word for how your Pokemon is doing.

And you don't give away your partner to begin with! [He hisses, eyes narrowing.] Bet y'didn't consider Mimikyu's thoughts on the matter, hm? Never crossed your mind, yeah? How it felt when y'just dumped it on someone else. Just like when it got dumped on you...thought y'all were the right place for it. Then off it goes again, another hand-me-down to some shmuck that don't really want it. Tch!

[He's getting so fucking tired of people not knowing what the fuck it means to own and raise a Pokemon. These aren't trainers. They're not people like him.]

[Foster doesn't even flinch at Guzma's hostility, but not because he's unaware of it. There's no missing that level of disgust or venom. It's actually... refreshing, but also very much expected, and he blinks slowly, measuring his thoughts more clearly in that context.]

It was a mistake. Everything was... a mistake. All of it. No, not all of it--just enough of it.

[He pauses.]

Also, he didn't have a tongue. Or a throat, actually. But I didn't give Mimikyu away. I just didn't stop him.

[Then, bitterly:]

.... I didn't expect it to matter.

[That was... a particularly low point, his time in 'jail.' A catastrophic failure to realise his purpose made far worse by his having lived through it. And then what? Pitied by the Psiionic, ignored and dismissed by the intended recipient of his message...]

Mmmmm.

[He makes a low, pensive sound as he ruminates on everything that went wrong, everything he should not have done, everything he should have done, his mood dropping further as his thoughts continue down that particular spiral.

He would never say as much in his own defence, because of course there is no defending garbage--

But he did try to get it back. He shouldn't have, really. He should have known better! But he was nothing if not irredeemably stupid. He could hardly have been expected to do anything right.

Which is, for Foster, the kind of recurring reminder that that relieves his mood rather than worsens it. Everything is... as it should be, in its way. He can't expect to have done it right. Not just that one thing. He can't do anything right. In retrospect, his hubris was remarkable... and his failure was only to be expected. Trying to get Mimikyu back? Because, what? He wanted it?

He truly was stupid.]

[There's a long, drawn out pause after that hum, as if Guzma expects this guy to say more - to defend himself a little better - because there is very little sympathy in his gaze. It's only when he looks deeper into the man's face that Guzma offers him some advice, harsh and biting though it may be. He doesn't coddle people, and it may be why he's seen as being cruel or terrible. He tells people what they need to hear, in ways that really stick. Not...the best ways, mind, but at the very least a lot of what he tells people is, in it's own funny way, for their own good.]

But it do now, don't it? [His eyes close, brows furrowing as his face descends into a deep scowl.] I don't know how y'all is thinking, what y'all is feeling, but let me tell you something. Pokemon got this weird knack for knowing when you really need 'em. They can see something in you that others can't, that you yourself prob'ly won't ever see...s'why they drawn to you and pick you as a partner.

But they not perfect, like all'a us. They make mistakes, they can do things that we don't like, they can make decisions what they think is best for 'em...but it ain't. That's when you gotta be there for them. Friends are still friends, partners are still partners, even when they gone. They all matter in some way. Y'don't realize it until y'don't--... [He inhales deeply, and Guzma squeezes his eyes shut, hiss out his held breath through grit teeth.] ...Until y'don't get to see 'em ever again.

I ain't gonna beat you up over it - y'doing that fine all by yourself - but sure as heck better not forget what y'did...and learn from it. [He begins to stand up, gives his Pokemon a pat on the head and a rough rub between its antennae (which it seems to enjoy thoroughly, given the throaty rumble), then recalls Golisopod to its pokeball and begins dusting off his pants.] Everything and everyone matters in someway to someone. Y'all just gotta find the what n' who that's yours.

...I'm going back to work.

[Foster is somewhat taken aback, in part because... well, Guzma appears to actually have listened to more than two words he's said. And he's serious about it. Which is... uncomfortable, actually. Foster regards Guzma evenly while the man talks, in the same way a cat does--when he blinks, it's slow and catlike, and his expression is flat like a cat's too. It's a kind of disconnected attentiveness, one where it's generally clear he's listening but he's not reacting at all.

And then Guzma doesn't give him a chance to respond.

Foster's eyes narrow, the corners of his mouth turning down sharply--but he backs up, out of the way of Guzma and his Pokemon, giving away his imbalance in the way his hooved legs step higher than necessary until he has room to turn around.

Then he too turns away, but only so he can put some distance between the fencer builders and himself before lying down in the grass, folding those long legs under his angular body.

A few months ago, he would not have actually given Guzma any space at all--the compulsion to correct something he finds wrong is still overpowering, devouring him from the inside, an unrelenting awareness of error as strong as it ever was, but he has... so much empty space in him now, thanks to Herbert's poison. Emptiness makes room--room to stew instead of act.
But it's still there: the fact that Guzma is giving him too much credit. Assuming depth and ability he doesn't have.... he knows, knows how much he doesn't have to offer--how whatever it is Mimikyu needs from him, he abjectly lacks. That's why Sans had to give it away... release it elsewhere, to find a more suitable partner for its own good.

As for what he needs... what Mimikyu saw in him... well. More like what it didn't see.

That was the point.

So then why is he feeling relieved? It takes him a few minutes to understand he's feeling anything at all--it's a strange experience in all this, to experience relief, but that's the first sensation he has given even a few seconds' separation from the conversation.

But he realises now it's because Guzma didn't lie to his face. Even Erika somehow felt like she needed to be forced, to be coerced into dropping the facade.

He's frustrated, and not just because there are questions he wants to ask. About Pokemon. About what this man knows, and doesn't know. About his doubt, immediately present, the sudden murky uncertainty what he actually said versus what he simply thought.

He does not.

He sits in the grass and watches them work... mostly Golisopod and Ariados, but occasionally his eyes fix briefly on Guzma instead.]

[He knows he's being watched, can feel eyes on his back - boring into his skin - as he works for several more hours with this companions and friends. He gives them praise and affection for each small accomplishment and it's clear the trio all have a very well forged bond. They work wordlessly, in unison, one sometimes coming in to aid the other just when and where they need it - unbidden most times. This is a true team working in perfect harmony, together, supporting one another unconditionally.

After a while, Guzma lets the two Pokemon rest, and continues the final touches on the fence himself, wiping his brow on his shirt as he lift part of it up to reach his face. He's going to need to wash himself and his sweaty clothes after he's done, but the work is decent. He'll even test the support and the strength of the beams by pushing hard against it, or leaning and sitting upon it and the support beams. Only once or twice does he squat down to fix shifts and tie off certain parts or hammer in more nails. It's good work, and he looks pretty proud.

Once he stands, he stretches and cracks his back and his neck, rolling his head in a slow circle. Oof, he's going to be feeling the burn tomorrow, but it's...not bad. Like a good workout. He needed this - he really needed this, and after a long soak to soothe the stiffness, and some good food and sleep, he'll do some more the next day. The sun is starting to sink lower in the sky and he's getting hungry again. And thirsty. Breathing out, he whistles to his two resting Pokemon then smooths his white hair back, the long strands sticking back as they're slicked through with his sweat.]

Y'know, that there shag rug is gonna come barking at'cha if y'keep laying around doing nothing. [He calls out, not really looking at Foster, but well aware he's still there.

Get up and do something, lazyass. Stop wallowing.]

[Foster has not people-watched much in his life. He's actively avoided it out of a combination of poor attention span and how much compulsive urgency and/or anger it incited in him.

Watching teamwork is interesting for a little while, but it's only because of the Pokemon that he maintains any kind of focus at all, and Guzma's proclamation catches him vaguely disconnected from reality, so he has to recover and return to it in order to understand that he's being addressed.

His brain processes what was said last, so his laugh comes after a pause--and a glance down at his paws.]

I barely have thumbs.

[Neither do the Pokemon, but he doesn't have their dexterity or webbing or anything else.

He used his claws to help dig some irrigation ditches, but--]

Unless you have a plow?

I don't. But I bet that there shag rug sure as heck does. Why don'cha go and ask 'em?

[It's an extremely transparent suggestion - the remark that Guzma really just wants Foster to go away and stop creepily stalking him and his Pokemon. Being ogled is not something Guzma appreciates, and less so when it comes to his partners. They aren't things, they aren't fancy baubles or animals you snap pictures at in a zoo or something. They're his, they're alive, they can think and feel, and right now? They're also working. So stop distracting all of them from their objective.]

Pretty sure those four legs'll get y'all there lickety-split, yeah? [So mosey along there, doggy.]

Edited 2018-12-09 23:53 (UTC)

[Foster, helpfully, responds with a long, pensive sound and not much else. He does, however, unfold his long legs to rise put of the dirt--smiling, because if nothing else, he can appreciate a clear message like that one.]

Hmmm.

[But, to his (extremely limited) credit, he does accept his dismissal, only glancing back at Guzma, Golisopod, and Ariados one last time, sans smile, before making like a tree and leaving.

Not at a gallop, though. It's more like a relaxed trot.

Guzma didn't make it that compelling.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a whole new place, With a brand new Attitude!

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CW suicidal ideation

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If you breed Mimikyu, don't just dump them on randos

8( do not abandon pokemon period

CW distorted thinking, self-loathing (positive)

sorry for the delay!!

I'm sorry for the lack of dialogue!!

in this house we're all sorry about something or other.

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