|
|
Post by rainy3 on Jan 28, 2012 17:53:43 GMT -5
Bored, bored, terribly bored. So bored, Will Henry was actually driven to do something in vain hopes of curing his perceived 'illness', but of course, his eccentric thought and aimless mind somehow led him to the forest: a most peculiar destination. How did he end up here anyway? Frankly, he couldn't remember, but he reckoned the original reason wasn't all that important anyway.
Constance, the guard's Swablu, was perched contently on his left shoulder and Will Henry would have likened himself to one of those pirates, but he figured a fluffy cloud with legs did not really constitute a fearsome image for the young man to classify as 'pirate'. Eh, pirate wannabe, it was. He reckoned he could even take a leaf from one of the great trees above and somehow tie it around his head to function as a makeshift eye patch. After all, it wasn't like he was coming across civilization anytime soon.
As the young man continued his mindless stroll, he briefly pondered what the other guards were doing. He hadn't really known anybody else all too well, and the only other people he happened to know were criminals: the kind of people Will Henry personally wished he didn't know. ...God, why were the people he was well-acquainted with happen to relate to his occupation? Now that was a nightmare he was determined to fix. Maybe it was time to visit that tavern instead ...
He took another step forward and the bird pokemon suddenly cawed softly as if to warn her master of the trap lying just up ahead, but her warning was heeded far too late. William had made the final step and suddenly, his slender ankle was grasped by a vine from seemingly nowhere and he was now suspended in some sort of earthly cage constructed of leaves, ropes, and branches. Huh. What a peculiar contraption! Thankfully, he wasn't much injured and neither was the pokemon that rested on his shoulder, but he was fairly certain his ankle was now sprained. What a pain. Well, of course, he hadn't any sort of cutting tool with him because, well, he didn't expect to be caught in some savage trap so he supposed he would have to wait until fortune would catch his eye.
"Anybody out there?" he briefly called. He was strangely calm about the situation, but then again, one could set his house on fire and he wouldn't care all that much. "If anybody is out there, I would somewhat appreciate it if you could cut me down!" After making his fairly useless call for help, he continued to calm the fretting Swablu by petting her fluffy wings.
...Well, time to play the waiting game.
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by SCIPIO on Jan 29, 2012 6:21:14 GMT -5
"I know. I'm hungry too, Zorro," A brown-haired teenager laughs at his pokemon that was using its long claws to attack the ground messily. "You should know that there's nothing there, though ... Unless you want some Wurmples to chew on." The revolted expression he could almost see on the Sneasel's face made him laugh again, and he clutched at his sides, rolling over in the crisp leaves to face upwards to the skies. "Don't'cha worry, sidekick, Wurmples don't live under the ground." It was becoming warmer, but the rejuvenating winds still were chilly; it was the perfect crossing weathers between the two seasons of Winter and Spring. As he lay there, enjoying the freedom that he had, he couldn't help but to wonder what it would be like if he hadn't run away from home. A chuckle reverberated through his chest, closing his eyes and reminiscing. When he was a small child, he hadn't expected being in a wealthy family to be too bad. After all, being born with a silver spoon in your mouth was absolutely and truthfully awesome. But as the years kept on adding, he realized that he couldn't be in such a family anymore.
The lack of given freedom was so ... choking. It was around fifteen that he had found that out. It was nice to be accompanied by another guard - it was so calming, relaxing, that he wouldn't be hurt in any way. He'd see the kids and children around his age flit around on the cobblestone and limestone streets, even sneering at them with his contemplating face. But he realized a little later - he was jealous of them. Able to go anywhere they wished to go; not visit stupid balls to meet their partner - no nothing. And when he had wanted to tell his parents that he didn't wish to do any of those things anymore, he was rebuked. He had no idea why he'd have to do anything as ridiculous as that. A year later, a bride was assigned to him. His family, old and coming from a line of prestigious aristocrats, carried out the family traditions of assigned marriages. He didn't want that though, not one bit. He had no idea what she even looked like. Until the second-to-last-day of his marriage, he found out her name.
And it wasn't what he wanted, being in a relationship like that. Even at the age of sixteen, he knew that wasn't supposed to be a real 'relationship'. Scipio thought she was pretty; high, pink cheekbones on a fair, smooth face, hazel eyes filled with mirth and mischief, and blonde, curled hair cascading the side of her shoulders. But he didn't want her. Appearances were one thing; love was another.
So he'd run, run away from all that madness; and it had been exactly one year from his escape. The day right before his supposed marriage, he'd gathered what he could and fled, aided only by a young Sneasel he had grown up with. Now, Sneasel, appropriately named Zorro, had grown up to the level of twenty - and his pride would never subside. There was some sort of an arrogance in that pride; but seeing him grow alongside him was something he hadn't expected. Being frail from the egg it had hatched from, Scipio had thought him to die - and he would have to bury the poor thing somewhere. But it had stuck with him from all this time, and he wouldn't ever let such a precious thing go from his heart.
Absentmindedly, he began to pet the smooth head of the Sneasel, smiling softly at the purr-like sounds it was resonating through its throat. "Mhm, Zorro," He begins, but something stops him - the snap of a vine. Scrambling to his feet, he hid behind a treetrunk, seeing his Sneasel swipe its claws against a long vine to climb up the tree quickly. Had the guards sent by his father reached him that quickly? Or was it a poor little Pokemon? Or - ? Holding his breath, he awaited for the time to strike, right when he heard a voice.
"Anybody out there?" There's a slight pause, "If anybody is out there, I would somewhat appreciate it if you could cut me down!"
Oh, so something had gotten stuck in his trap he had so ardently set up, but it was a human. God, he was good. Grabbing the black domino mask from the side of his hip, bound by his belt, he started.
He steps out from his hiding place, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite tree from where the person was captured, brilliantly coloured blue oculars straying from head to toe and taking in the sight of the other. He wasn't that bad-looking, but he knew he looked better, if not a whole lot more. Scipio laughs at his own mockery, giving a small bow. "Well, looks like that I've captured something," he grins, bright teeth shining through his pink lips, "but you're not my dinner. That's highly disappointing." Zorro seemed to be interested in the Swablu, sniffing around the Pokemon with a curious look.
He doesn't move to untie him, instead giving an innocent smile. An undertone of a purr decorates his voice as he continues, "I don't want to cut you down yet, actually. Let's play." The young criminal knew he was taking a risk; he could have been a guard sent from his family. But putting up a facade to test the waters, he had learned, was never a bad thing.
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by rainy3 on Jan 31, 2012 1:00:27 GMT -5
Mm, his ankle was beginning to sting now. Maybe it was worse than a sprain after all? With almost morbid curiosity, Will Henry studied his horribly swelling ankle after slipping off the boot that constrained the poor limb in the first place. Constance, in good nature, peered over him with an expression of concern, but the young guard didn't seem to be bothered at all. If he was, he was silent in his suffering, but that had always been his nature. There would be no walking on the ankle for at least a good two weeks and certainly no women flirting for even more ...according to his only nurse, his frantic Swablu. Already, the blessed soul was now desperately trying to cure her master's useless ankle with her fluffy wings. Ah, what a true lady!
With soft and unusual fondness, the dark haired boy reached to scratch the fluffy bird under her chin and he received a startled yet cheerful chirp in response, but with almost harsh sudden, he hushed her immediately as if he could hear something strange in the distance. Horribly confused, the cloud pokemon tried to spur an answer from her eccentric master, but the boy's mind seemed to be elsewhere. What was that sound? His sharp gaze searched from his left to his right, but to no avail. Admittedly, he had been caught in a rather awkward sort of trap and thus, it made it very difficult for him to manage to even look around, but he'd have to manage. He was completely convinced that there was something, or rather, somebody, nearby. With darting eyes, he continued to madly search the undergrowth, but he couldn't find anything much to his dismay.
However, just as William had settled on the idea of a restless pokemon, a figure did reveal itself to him from the dark forest. A tall-ish sort of slim figure with dark, pretty hair ...and he supposed the young man had pretty features as well were it not for the obstructive domino mask that so effortlessly concealed his identity. Huh, what was he? Some kind of masked villain? Hero? Or was he just a boy? Instantly, Will Henry was insatiably curious; one could almost just see the gears spinning madly in his head, trying to make sense of the situation. His poor Swablu, on the other hand, looked positively terrified, but she kept her ground and merely gave the Sneasel an arrogant huff and turned her head away like the aristocrat lady she was.
Will Henry's confusion only seemed to grow when he was bowed to. Huh, he'd never been addressed while he was caught in a trap before. And to him, it'd been a sort of obvious trap, but he had simply been careless. Pity, now he had a broken ankle. "I certainly hope not. I've heard human flesh is not exactly the best for digestion, but my sources could be wrong," cheerfully smiled the boy as if he was talking about lollipops and roses instead of eating people. At this moment, he'd only realized what madness he must have said and waved his arms dismissively, but there was a question that he simply wanted to ask. "Why do you wear a mask? Are you trying to conceal your obvious good looks from me or ...are you afraid of me recognizing you? Honestly, I think I'd remember a chap like you with that shocking shade of hair you have." He told himself strictly that this was not flattery; this was mere truth and he would deal with nothing but the truth.
...But there was a strange tone to the boy's words? Was that ...? Was that a ...purr? What. Now he was utterly baffled. He was one of the most intelligent men to stalk the streets and yet, he couldn't interpret what a simple purr meant. Was it the ankle? He blamed it on the ankle. "...Play?" Damn, he couldn't resist a game, but then again, he couldn't resist snark either. "Fine," agreed Will, "I'll give you fair warning that I don't play very nice," and he grinned.
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by SCIPIO on Jan 31, 2012 6:37:32 GMT -5
Scipio stifled laughter; he sounded as if he was actually having a conversation that kind of thing - cannibalism, it was called - and it was so curious how he even knew that information. He merely sits down on the tree trunk so conveniently placed right opposite from the tied other, setting up a show of pretending to examine his well-manicured ( for a fugitive, anyway ) nails before answering. "Oh, I see," and that's all he says as he crosses his legs elegantly at the ankles, looking calm and collected as if this was one of his usual conversations at the kitchen table. The comment about his looks throws him off a bit, but he manages to recollect himself before there's something obvious that does show in his countenance. "Why, thank you, but my hair's quite the normal shade, I'm afraid," his eyes are shining with mirth behind the dark mask, "but it's so utterly sweet of you to compliment me when I have caught you. And, judging by the looks of it, injured."
As if justifying his statement, he points to the swollen, red ankle, making series of 'tsk' sounds from the back of his throat. He knew that the vine had caused this; or rather, that he had, but that's what he got for being so careless. Something caught him, though - had he been afraid of being captured and taken back? He wouldn't answer, but he knew that it was a 'yes'. "No, no, but I don't want you to recognize me. Maybe it's better that way, you see? Or until we find more about each other first." There's that devious grin on his face, blue oculars twinkling fully with mischievousness. As he scrutinized even more, he took in the sharp features; chiseled and handsome, and well-shaped figure. The consent wasn't expected; but he allowed himself to looked pleased, searching for his Sneasel.
Zorro still looked interested in the Swablu, even poking her with his elongated claws. He noticed that it wasn't as sharp as it could have been, which meant that he was only curious.
"Okay," he begins, uncrossing his legs and giving a show of thinking, "what about twenty questions? I'm sure that'll be fun ... Especially in your situation." It looked painful; honestly, he wasn't so sure if he could upstand such a wound himself. Maybe he could take the other's mind off of it? He clicks his tongue, Zorro prancing to his side in an instant as he holds his handkerchief gingerly, with his forefinger and thumb as he says his request. "For the man, Zorro, ice beam." The cloth freezes, creating some ice crystals in its formation. With a slight, barely-there form of sympathy, he stands up to place it around the ankle, wrapping it loosely.
"Now that that's done," Scipio beams, "we can play." And as if he's copying the guard's ending grin, he gives a flash of his teeth as well, fingers already touching the corner of his mask. "Your name?" He takes a moment to think, before giving a wry chuckle. "Don't be all 'a rose by any other name may smell as sweet', either. No trick questions." And with that, the leans back and sits onto the trunk again, satisfied.
Scipio decides that he likes being in control.
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by rainy3 on Jan 31, 2012 20:07:31 GMT -5
Who was this guy? Certainly, he wasn't one of the aristocrats. After all, aristocrats typically did not hunt their dinner in the wilderness with vines for ropes and branches for bars. From the looks of things, the boy who captured him here looked like something straight from a fairy tale with his sharp, glittering eyes and perfect cheekbones with an air of mischief. Will Henry immediately likened him to a thief and if this boy was a criminal ...
Well, the tables would most certainly turn.
He resisted a tiny smile of his own. "It was simply an observation. I don't play compliments." His voice was cold and unfeeling: the voice of science and everything he slaved for, but ...there was the slightest surprise when the boy mentioned his injury. What an eye! While the ankle was clearly swollen, most people wouldn't have bothered to search him so thoroughly when he would behave in such a nonchalant manner. "Sharp gaze. I can tell already that you're not the common sort of folk." His eyes explored his captor's with almost ferocious intensity, but his gaze soon darkened when he was reminded of the pain and he winced. "Only a mild sprain," he lied, "I'll be back on my feet soon," but the injury was then pointed to with a slender figure and he knew instantly his lie would not settle with the boy.
Will Henry soon smiled: a wry grin, when the other expressed his desire not to be recognized. "What have you to fear? A crippled young man caught in a trap?" He couldn't stop now. "Unless you happen to be a criminal ..." His voice was playful, deliberate even: the criminal lot were always so fun to play with. Most had also expressed that if Will was not one of the royal guard, he would probably have become an evil mastermind instead. He, of course, begged to differ and claimed 'evil mastermind' was a thing of fiction and he was very much real. ...Or so he digressed.
His Swablu was promptly poked and she nearly jumped in surprise, shrieking softly. Incredibly flustered, she fluffed her feathers with an air of haughtiness, but her expression slightly softened when she realized that the claw wielding pokemon was only curious. Well, she supposed he was rather handsome ... But his master had gotten her master injured! Hmph! With another small huff, she turned her head away again, but inside, there was a small pang of guilt.
Antics aside, Will Henry thought for a moment. Twenty questions. Perfect, but his injury was brought up again. His fault would not become a hindrance. "The wound is nothing," he insisted with a little glare, "If you proposed that we race down a mountain to see which of us was the faster of the two, I would win." His reply was curt, as if a man with a broken ankle would obviously win a mountain race on foot was common sense, but he was completely bewildered by the show of sudden hospitality. ...Was this ...what people called ...sympathy? It was a bizarre notion for him altogether, but he said nothing except for a furrow of his eyebrows as if he was trying to think of something to say. Finally, he managed to utter a soft reply of gratitude and he turned his face away, unsure of what more to say.
However, as the game began, a slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. How would this fellow know if he lied? How would Will Henry know if this fellow lied? "The name is William James Henry." His back was still to the other, but he twisted uncomfortably to face the other with a saccharine smile. "Call me what you will."
"And may I inquire yours?"
[/size][/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by SCIPIO on Feb 1, 2012 5:48:11 GMT -5
Zorro lets out a high-pitched whine, as if he's trying to get the graceful Swablu's attention, and Scipio decides to actually deduce about the aerial creature. Its feathers were clean and well-looked after; the only flaw he could notice were the smidgens of dust and pieces of leaves tangled by the brief encounter of the vine. Sleek and slim, it looked just about the best flying-type it could be - and even though its sense of pride radiated from turning its swan-like neck to face away from the Sneasel, he sensed something else. After all, pokemon chose to either follow their master's personality or not. Away from the man that had captured his attention, Scipio's eyes strayed right into the oculars of the Swablu, as if speaking something of the unknown before breaking eye contact with a slight smile. He allows Zorro to continue, and even befriend, if the Swablu had accepted - because honestly, it's been quite a while since he'd met a tamed pokemon.
And Scipio realizes, with some sort of regret, that he hasn't talked so freely and with such a sly-attitude ever since he'd left his home. All in all, in shorter words, they had missed the accompaniment of other creatures and humans.
The creepy guard ( as he's nicknamed him, for now, ) says a snarky comment about him being able to run down the mountains faster than he himself can, which is ridiculous; and he can't hold in the laughter, trying to cover his mouth with his hands as he does so. It's slightly feminine and he remembers his mother had taught him so, but he digresses and lets it pass. "Yes, I suppose you could," he starts, interlocking both his hands and fingers together, "but I'm afraid the only way that scenario could come true is if you rolled down the mountain, aided unfortunately by Lady Fate and with your injury." After a moment, he realizes that it's fun to tease about the swelling ankle, even though if he was in the situation, he would have probably flipped a forest or two. But the other hasn't tugged off the handkerchief yet, so he assumes that it's helping ( and he appreciates it ).
He decides to be a little more open then, and satisfies the curiosity of his occupation. "You're correct," he begins with an air of mysteriousness, "I'm not such a good person, but nor am I a bad person. Who am I?" Scipio introduces himself as if he really is a riddle, before giving a moment of silence to create the eerie aura he wanted. "I really should have taken up acting," the masked boy says, almost wistfully, "but, alas. Anyhow, I don't think you'll let me go freely if I say what I am, dear guard," emphasis goes on the last word, naturally, as if he's pressuring the other down with his fantastic sixth sense of deducing, "but I digress. You wouldn't hurt me, sir, would you?" There's that boyish look again, almost innocent and caring, and the widening of eyes seems to accentuate the whole act. And with that, the corners of his mouth tighten upwards, creating a problematic smile.
He pulls off his mask in a fluid motion, reattaching it to his belt before staring at William with a roguish grin. "Well, mister William Henry, it's a pleasure to be of your acquaintance," he does another smooth bow, as if they're reintroducing themselves again, "my name is Scipio. I hope you're not too disappointed." At the side, Zorro, that good Sneasel, even does his tiny bow towards the lady, wriggling its small feather-like object on the top of his head for the detailing effect. "I think I'm quite insistent with the nickname 'Willy', if you will." c:
"Ah, but then again," he chortles, "you don't have much of a choice, do you? You said 'call me what you will', so ... Triumph on my situation, I'd suppose."
[/justify][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by rainy3 on Feb 2, 2012 22:37:57 GMT -5
Startled by the sudden whine, Constance turned to face the Sneasel with a quizzical expression as if she was asking him what in the world he wanted. Why was he so insistent on pestering her? Didn't he get the message? Still, she supposed she had to acknowledge his persistence and she returned the previous poke with a slight nod of her head, gently returning the poke with a brush of a fluffy wing instead. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the Sneasel's master staring intently at her and she tilted her head, curious. Aside from the stranger, she also noticed her own master studying the stranger who was studying her! Truly bizarre. Humans made no sense at all.
Will Henry was in the middle of his brief yet careful study when the silence was broken with a burst of laughter. What? What was so funny? Will was rather convinced he didn't possess a sense of humor and he didn't say anything that would constitute as a joke. With furrowed brow, he shot the teen a sharp look and he replied curtly, "I will run and I will not roll down either, thank you." Despite his sharp reply, his ankle was irritating him, but the frozen cast of sorts did significantly help as much as he hated to admit it. "Besides," a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "I'm taller, and thus, I have longer legs."
Ah, and so his prediction was confirmed. Will Henry was not too certain if he enjoyed being toyed with like how a cat plays with the mouse, but despite their little game that he was admittedly losing, it was interesting. Secret amusement aside, he was less than impressed with the presentation of a riddle. With intense focus, he settled for ...sort of an answer. "I don't believe that people are only black or white. I believe in everything in between, but if we are to go by stereotypes ..." he paused thoughtfully with the ghost of a smile as if he knew something the boy didn't, "I should guess you're a criminal with good intentions, and perhaps, even good actions." After all, the boy could have very well abandoned or even killed him here if he wanted, but then again, the boy still had time. In contemplation, he shrugged, but in the end, he was right: the boy was a criminal and well, that was good enough for him. Matching the boy's innocent smile, he simply replied, "I told you already ...I don't play very nice ..."
Immediately, he countered. "Scipio's not your real name, so why don't you do me a favor and tell me your real name?" He smiled sweetly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. However, now that the mask was gone, he could truly appreciate just how perfect the boy's features really were. At that moment, he was immediately taken with this ...Scipio's brilliant gaze. ...And well, when Will Henry wanted something ...he got it. But how to capture him? "I would say the same," he remarked thoughtfully as he watched his Swablu attempt a lady-like curtsy in response with a small smile, "but your trap broke-- sprained my ankle."
At the endearing nickname, Will Henry only grimaced as if he was truly in pain. "I would much prefer Will Henry or Will, but I suppose it was my fault." There was the slight pout of his scarlet lips, but the childish expression was quickly suppressed with a bright smile. "Either way, I hereby arrest you for participating in criminal activity and ensnaring innocent people into dangerous traps." ...Eh, it wasn't total bs. ...Only a little. From his pocket, the young guard pulled out a pair of handcuffs and dangled them with a smile, seemingly unaware that it had been Will Henry who had been caught instead. A clear disadvantage, but hey, nothing was impossible.
"How old are you, Monsieur Scipio? Twelve?"
[/size][/justify] |
|
