"All that spirits' desire, spirits attain. But they're going to have to work for it. Thinking that I'm an easy target is the worst decision anyone could make, dead or alive." [[Associated with Wildencounters]]
So, this is a long time coming decision for me, and perhaps this comes before or after the ask is answered, but for the time being, I shall depart from the group.
Various things had happened to me this year. I started my second year of college. My nephew was born into the world. My older brother passed away just when I picked up a new muse. I’ve almost been in several situations where I could have been injured or worse. I’ve been struggling with certain classes. My anxiety had been harder to handle lately, and just other personal matters occurred that made waking up every day tiring.
I know that my muse has suffered throughout it all, but I stubbornly clung on, hoping to at least force it into activity. Doing that only made me more disinterested, and after a while longer, it just felt like a chore to play them. That’s the last thing that I wanted, for I want to be able to be the best thread partner for other members, I want to enjoy playing my muses and I want to be comfortable with my own writing. Some replies, I feel like I’m just pushing things out, and I don’t think that’s fair for my thread partners.
So, I believe it’s time for me to take a step back, take the time to get my life back on track, and rediscover my spark to play my muses here in WE. This group has been so important for me, as I’ve graduated high school, entered my foundation years and currently halfway earning a degree with all of you. I cherish my time here, the threads that I have, and the friends that I’ve made along the way!
This isn’t farewell forever! Once I feel more assured with where I am, and I feel a burning desire to play my muses again, I’ll return.
But for now, this is goodbye. Thank you so much WE! May we meet again!
It has been everpresent in the seer for as long as Eusine can remember– and perhaps, always will be– just how cool he remains, no matter how much rest he deprives himself of. Ten years ago, it was hardly of any consequence, but now, Eusine can only wonder how.
And quite frankly, if it were anyone else, it would make him sick.
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Eusine grumbles, and Morty chooses to hold his tongue, instead giving a little shake of his head. His friend is practically transparent-- the elements probably forced him to return, for as much as he would prefer to remain on the hunt, Morty knows Eusine still has some semblance of self preservation. As always, the winds bring the weary traveler back to Ecruteak, where he’ll lick his wounds before he’s reinvigorated into resuming the chase.
Morty will let him, as there’s no force on earth that could contain Watanabe Minaki from proving his worth to the Legendary Beast of Johto.
And besides, it’ll be hypocritical of him to deter his friend from pursuing his dreams. Isn’t he a mortal who holds onto a foolish hope of gaining Ho-Oh’s favor? A pipe dream it may be, but one that he continues to place his belief in regardless. It’s the only thing that keeps him going, during those particularly bad days where he feels detached from reality. The desire to make the impossible, possible gives him the strength to make it through the day.
Finally, the silence breaks under Eusine’s knowing question. He might as well have stated a fact, for when does his mind ever rest easy? Still, Morty knows that he wants a concrete answer. His eyes remain close as he contemplates on his answer. Denial is (always) his first reaction, but knowing Eusine as well as he does, he knows it won’t make it pass his keen eyes. So, the truth.
Morty lets the smile slip, showcasing the exhaustion that ages him far beyond his years. It is the same song and dance, at the end of the day. This is Eusine, the man who he has known since his childhood days. A friendship that blossomed from exchanging letters had been one of the best things to have happened during his early years. The other knows the struggles he’s facing, so he shouldn’t have even bothered on lying in the first place.
“Well, it is the same old story, my friend. I’m just tired,” he states with a half lidded gaze. “When I try to rest, my mind refuses to, and I’m left to stay up and ponder until dawn breaks and a new day rises. Admittedly, it has been a frequent occurrence as of late, and I could not quite place my finger for the reason behind it. As such, it seems that it has taken a toll on my physical health.”
While his features are pale and withdrawn, there’s just the lightest dusting of red high on his cheekbones. His lips pulls up into a faint half smile. “If my body fails me now, I fear that it’ll be hard for me to recover from.” For a weak body is just begging to be taken.
Impatience is all that Green can feign to smother the extent of his discomfort, but he knows in the same effort that it’s a pointless endeavour, by now. It doesn’t stop him anyway, grinding his fingers through the fabric, daring them to turn white from the pressure as he has to listen, be patient.
‘Love can be a regret, especially if it had never gotten closure. Final act, final words…. speculations for the time being.’
There’s a level of empathy in what Morty has to say, a tragedy (of course, this guy’s dead), but Green can’t sympathise any more with the plight theorised than a hollow gesture that most people have to offer a stranger. What was he supposed to do about it? is what it comes down to, a thought he thinks—and wonders, if for just a second, it could be answered.
But no answer comes, predictably.
(Or what should be predictably.)
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Morty lets the thought settle between them. He’s only able to speculate, but judging purely from experience, it paints the best scenario. It is quite saddening when he sees it through that angle, but such is the case with specters. Emotions are a powerful thing, both in the living world and the next. While he would like to give them both some peace of mind, he knows that ultimately, he will prioritize Green. Exorcism is a last resort, one that he admittedly wishes not to perform with this particular case.
Silence settles between them, if only due to the arrival of their meals. Morty thanks the waiter with a polite smile, his gaze then flickering to the soup. Though, he’s only able to stare at his reflection before Green’s words pulled his attention back. The other Gym Leader looks quite uneasy. Understandable, given the lack of a proper direction in their next course of action. Green is alive, his hitchhiker is not. What should be done?
Morty stirs his soup, cools a spoonful down before he sips, letting the warmth and spices settle. It is after he’s had a fair bit before he places the spoon down. He thinks while he eats, and he’s come up with a possible answer. “Well, I would suggest an exorcism, but quite frankly, that should be left as a final ditch effort. The more the spirit struggles, the tougher it is to purge it from your body. Worst case scenario, it’ll take you down with it.”
A little clink as he lifts his teacup. “As it’s established that it’s the friendly sort, perhaps it would be more... accommodating if we actively help it reach its resolution. Once it has achieved peace, it should naturally leave your body to properly cross over. A little bit rarer, due to the unpredictable nature of both man and spirit, but achievable.”
He smiles a little. “Thus, comes to the question. How can we know? The most straightforward answer would be for me to converse with it, though it means that you have to allow yourself to be taken over, and not leave it up to chance.” He eats a spoonful of soup. “Of course, I understand if you do not wish to subject yourself through it. Given with what I’ve told you earlier, why would you want to? The decision is entirely up to you. Consent to a takeover, or risk it with an exorcism? Either way, I’m prepared to give it my all to aid you.”
From the look in Morty’s eyes, it’s clear that he was assessing her from the get-go.
It’s a smart move, she thinks as she looks up again, meeting his unusually colored eyes. He is definitely not one to fall for trickery, as the look in his eyes makes her feel ever so slightly guilty. After all, she’s not quite telling the whole truth to him. It’s a half-truth. But she knows inwardly it was the right choice to be wary to those she doesn’t know well, even if they may eventually prove themselves to be a good person.
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Morty smiles at her, and gives a little nod at the name given. “Moon, is it? What a lovely name for a parent to give.” With hands clasped behind his back, he closes his eyes. “The moon that hides during the day, that casts light in darkness, that’s mysterious in its own way....” His tone is light, giving away nothing but implying something. He cracks open an eye that, under the shadow cast by overhead trees, makes it seem like its glowing...
“A fitting name,” he says, finally.
She still looks restive, like any wrong move on his end will have her dashing into the forest, never to be seen again. Is she that wary of him, or is something else at play? Regardless, he’s identified her as harmless (for the time being). He listens to her request, and nods. “If you can come to the Gym tomorrow and beat my Gym Trainers, then perhaps we can battle.” Though, he has a feeling that this mysterious lil’ miss wouldn’t have much trouble reaching him.
Morty once again gives her a nod. “Alright, come with me. I will escort you out of this forest. Though, if you see shadows that are not there, I suggest that you keep your head down and continue to follow my steps.” There’s another smile, his lips curling up just a tad. “Nothing will happen, but it’s just a safety precaution. I wish not for any harm to befall on you.”
With that, Morty leaves the shrine, offering up one last prayer in his heart before he walks toward the path. He doesn’t look behind-- if she knows what’s good for her, he’ll follow his lead. The forest is calm and quiet, but there’s always things that seems a little too serene. The Ghost Guru can sense it faintly -- it’s at the edge of his mind, gently probing, a feeling he can mostly ignore. So long as they don’t anger them, they’ll be fine.
Morty doesn’t say anything, merely listening to the sounds of the forest, and the footsteps from behind. Eventually, the trees clear to reveal Ecruteak City in all its glory. He steps onto the cobbled stone path before turning to face Moon. “Now, remember that next time, you should’t wander down that road. If one of the monks had found you, you’d have gotten an earful.”
It’s well past midnight by the time he arrives. Not that it really matters.
Usually at this hour, the little town of Ecruteak was as quiet as it was dark, as the lanterns that dot the city streets after dusk were blown out earlier in the night. Even the old Brass Tower looks less imposing in the distance, with the charred remnants of its roof blending in with the deep color of the sky rather than stand out against it. It does add to the general ominosity, though– that something wasn’t quite right. And that’s when it catches Eusine’s attention, the faintest light glowing in the window of the Gym Leader’s home off in the distance, standing out as if it were a beacon in its lonesome.
And he scowls.
Disappointed, but not surprised, was becoming a pretty standard sentiment whenever he returned here. Not home, but the closest thing he had to it.
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The sky is black with specks of glowing white, with the moon casting a soft glow that gives off an ethereal sort of feeling. Little lanterns keeps the streets alight-- an orange hue that ages the cobbled stone paths. It’s like a step back in time, to an era where the people’s faith towards the deities burn as brightly as the fire burning on the wick of the last candle. Silence permeates, though it is a natural, thoughtful kind.
The city is asleep but Morty is wide, wide awake.
It is not the first, nor will it be the last time where his body refuses to sleep, even when the exhaustion cuts to the bone. The moment he closes his eyes, the silence will be loud, bouncing around in his head until he forcefully awakens to cease the empty noise. He will then leave his too big bedroom, slipping into his comfy lavender robe that scratches at his skin, and sits in the living room with a mug of tea that will be ice cold by the time he takes his first sip.
He will contemplate, for the umpteenth time, if his gift is a blessed or cursed one. What is the cost of helping the unseen? Will his heart one day be his downfall? It’s a constant thought that weighs heavily on his mind, just like the presences that he picks up at the edge of his mind. Morty always has to keep his mental shields up, for the moment he falters, they will strike with the desperation of a dying man.
A sensation they’ve once experienced, no doubt.
He closes his eyes, and heaves out a deep sigh. It is only within the comforts of his own home where he’s allowed to be weak. The seals he’s placed around the perimeters will ensure that the uninvited is kept out, while his own companions can move freely. Here, he can stare tiredly out the window, wishing for even a night of peace so he could rest his weary head. He is exhausted, a fact that he only reveals to his closest friends.
Speaking of...
Morty never knows when he’ll return, for he is like the North Wind that enraptures his heart and urges him to travel to the far corners of the globe. But when he does, he’s like a hurricane, all force and chaotic emotions, especially when he sees him wide awake here. Amethyst eyes slides shut, merely listening to the sound of his arrival.
You fool, Eusine mutters.
“Why hello there,” Morty answers, cracking open an eye with his lips curling up into a small smile. “I know it’s late. Exhausted as I am, I haven’t gone blind since your last departure.” Which is close to a month ago, yes? A hum. “What brings you back to Ecruteak, Eusine? I would have assumed you’d still be on your search, judging from the last text message you have sent me.”
What is he doing, exactly? Deflecting future questions? Redirecting attention from his pale, sickly features? Dodging the the possibility of answering that no, I haven’t gotten as much rest as you would have liked.
Morty slips so easily back into a casual tone of conversation, while Green finds himself battling between agitation and embarrassment over the situation—feeling bare and powerless at the same time, two states he can say he vehemently despises when put together.
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Green wears an expression that speaks volumes of his displeasure, but there’s also a dash of embarrassment that makes Morty take this a little more seriously than he first started off with. Not everyone could handle the knowledge that there’s an unknown entity hijacking their body for no real rhyme or reason. He leans forward, chin resting atop steepled fingers and listens patiently to Green’s answers to his questions.
The more he speaks, the broader the probable picture that he gets. You see, while spirits are intangible, their intentions are usually more straightforward. A regret, a hatred, any sort of strong feeling upon the time of death-- the tie that binds them to the mortal world is often the only thing they’re capable of focusing on. The specter that’s housed within Green is no exception to this. Once the tether is severed, the host will be free.
He takes his time to build his mental map, taking everything he’s seen and heard into consideration. There’s a connection here. A desire to make contact and engage in a relationship. Melancholic feelings emerging upon Green’s impending trip to Kalos. Unfinished business. An overall friendly spirits who’s done no real harm intentionally. It’s keeping the host safe, in a manner of speaking. For its future use or something else?
“From everything thus far, this is my speculation.” Morty finally looks up, his hand picking up his teacup. “This spirit... I believe it’s tethered to this world by a regret. It had said that it’s still not ready to leave, ergo it’s searching or trying to achieve something.” He takes a sip. “The fact that it only emerges for the sole purpose of flirting, I believe it’s lonely. That, or it thinks that you’re lonely, for whatever reason.”
He stares at his reflection for a moment. “You start thinking about Kalos afterwards. While that is your intention, the reason for its emergence might be from the spirit’s influence. You mentioned feeling somewhat sad, unsure-- or melancholic. From that, I’m assuming that the regret is tied to Kalos. Be it the spirit had always wanted to go there but never got the opportunity before its human body passed, there’s something in Kalos of considerable value or, if we want to tie the probable assumption of loneliness, it had someone in Kalos.”
Morty closes his eyes. “Love can be a regret, especially if it had never gotten closure. Final act, final words.... speculations for the time being.”
Moon knows immediately when the Gym Leader reveals himself that she’s in big trouble.
She ducks her head down a little to try look as harmless as possible and as a small apology, but her eyes dart quickly back and forth to scour for any possible defensive items to use. None seem useful. If this turns into a fight, it’ll be because of Moon’s own stupidity. It’s her fault. Damn, she should’ve been more careful.
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Morty has surrounded himself with Ghost-types for so long that his eyes are accustomed in spotting trickery-- for if you remain blissfully ignorant to the phantoms, then you must face the consequences. He sees that she’s like a skittish Pokemon, small and meek but looking like she’d flee (or fight) at the first sign of danger. With the Ghost guru, it’s an understandable reaction but there’s just something about her that makes her different than the usual apprehensive Trainer that crossed paths with him.
He listens to her answer, observes her with sharp, intense eyes that probe for lies until he leans back slightly, satisfied with what he sees. She’s not being entirely open with him, but having a healthy dose of self preservation is a good trait to have. At the very least, she’s regarding him carefully. With any Ghost-type specialists, you should never underestimate them. For that, she gets a little bit of respect from the Gym Leader.
“I see...” Morty closes his eyes, smile splayed across his lips. “I do not sense that you’re lying, for the most part.” He opens them once more, pinning her with a casual gaze. “So long as you do not have malicious intent, I would have let you off with just a warning but thank you for clarifying.” Hands clasped behind his back, he tips his head slightly. “You are from Alola? The winds brought you so far from home... but I welcome you to Johto, nonetheless.”
He looks away to cast a look at the shrine, then drops his gaze on her once more. “If you are a Pokemon Trainer, I suppose it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you’re here to challenge the Gym Leader?” Morty lightly grasps his scarf with a little smile on his lips. “If you are, then Ecruteak City’s Gym Leader--” He gives a little theatrical bow. “--at your service. You can call me Morty. How may I address you, little miss?”
When Nate looks up from the greening water, he expects to see the hunched shape of his great-grandmother shuffling away from the table with a tray of tea. Reconsidering his surroundings, he notes himself overly reminiscent and feels no disappointment as he’s served a cold brew by a stranger on a tiny, old-school yakatabune. See… he didn’t particularly like the way great-gran smelled. He takes a deep breath, then hums with the exhale.
Too bad Ecruteak smells like her anyways.
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When Morty is free from his duties, and did not feel like preparing his meals for the day, he would indulge himself by eating out. Now, he lives on a pretty simple diet-- a step above the monks with a penchant for all things sweet. To have a strong mind, one must have a strong body and what better way than eating healthily? Cooking for himself ensures that he never overeats, but occasionally it is nice to enjoy what his beloved city had to offer.
Today, he wishes for good, traditional fare. Ecruteak City has plenty that preserves recipes passed down from their ancestors, though he’s in a particular sort of mood. A traditional meal with nature as its backdrop. Morty doesn’t have to think long before he chooses his destination. It’s not a far walk from his Gym. It’s location is closer to the southern edge-- a strategic point between city and forest. Quite a famous spot for special occasions, definitely.
Before long, the sight of the yakatabune came into view. The red lanterns greeted patrons like him, and once he’s closer to the boat, he could view the tatami mats lining the floor, as well as the low tables that is similar to the one he has at home. Morty observes the Magikarp fins that breaks the pond’s surface before he turns his attention to the front of house manager, who advises him of a ten minute wait before a table clears up.
Morty wouldn’t have minded on waiting, but it seems like this stranger has other plans. He considers, before dipping his head, a smile stretching his lips. Once he gets the go ahead, the Gym Leader approaches the table, silently slipping into the seat across from the young man.
“Thank you very much for offering a spot.” He casts a look at the scenery. “This is quite a good table to capture the essence of the pond. You are quite lucky, I must say.”
Green appears pleased by Morty’s initial willingness to indulge him, a glow about him in both expression and person; if his words are meant to be subtle criticisms to some unknown regarding being honest, true and respectful to others, it doesn’t reflect in any way upon Green’s face, nor the aura around his person visible only to Morty.
Instead, he’s rather fond of Morty’s criteria, nodding once to the necessities, completely captured.
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It seems his words has an affect to the hijacking specter. Morty privately commends it for keeping its cool. Some spirits could get rather... violent upon hearing a threat to their continued freedom. Worst case scenario, it would force its will upon the host, performing regrettable deeds until it runs out of steam, or the mind breaks under the onslaught of mental pressure. Maybe he had been tempting fate a little, but he’s confident in his abilities to stop it and Green if it ever came down to it.
Green flashes him a quiet, knowing look, still looking genial like they’re just two friends having a pleasant time together. Morty sits up a little straighter at the shift in voice -- it’s like hearing an echo, only the second tone is much softer and it sounds a little... ethereal, for lack of a better term -- before Green acquaints himself with the table, effectively halting the activity around them. Ah, a flair for the dramatics, it looks like.
The blond remains quiet at the waiter’s worried inquiry, letting Green handle the small talk until the man nods and leaves, presumably to grab the necessary items to clean up spilled juice. Seeing that the brunette is up and alert, people returned back to their own conversation, with only one or two curious glances sent their way. Morty waits until the waiter leaves once more after cleaning up the mess before he speaks.
“So, it seems like the spirit residing inside of you is the friendly sort,” Morty begins mildly, leaning forward on his elbows with his chin resting atop steepled fingers. “When I say friendly, I mean that, while it’s clear that it’s inhabiting your body, there’s no particular malicious energy that I could sense. In fact, we were having a perfectly pleasant conversation. it seems very interested to know what my alignments are, and the sort of individual I would consider in dating.”
He huffs out a soft chuckle. “If I were an ordinary person, I might have believed the genuine interest in your body language.” The his expression sobers slightly. “While it seems like it’s not malicious, it is still siphoning off your life energy. With each full possession, it would be harder for you to free yourself from its influence.” Amethyst eyes observe the other. “Tell me Green, what did you feel just now? Your thoughts, emotions, sensations, the last thing you could recall-- anything you can tell me.”
Morty closes his eyes. “And, do you remember any prior experience similar to this? If so, when did it emerged? Were you doing something in particular? I’d like to figure out what’s the trigger, so to speak, that had the spirit take over your body like that. It had been perfectly quiet before it chose to reveal itself. It seems like it’s waiting, for the words it utter before you regain control was I’m not ready.”
The Alolan Champion rises to her feet in front of Bell Tower.
Moon didn’t really mean to fall on the ground at this point — you’d think she’d be more graceful and whatnot with enhanced senses or whatever-it-is powers that she ended up with, like she cares about it, but no. She’s on the ground, wincing, but she’s pulled herself up and onto her feet so she doesn’t look so ridiculous.
“Ugh,” she mutters sullenly, and shoved her hands into the pockets of her forest green hoodie. She’s wearing a silly hoodie to hide the fact that she is Alola’s Champion. Absolutely no one seems to recognize her in them. It’s extremely hilarious. It’s also a habit she hasn’t really broken yet, and besides, the ridiculous science puns are to die for. Well, they’re a bit cliché and sometimes over the top, but they work. Her current one is a conversation between two atoms — “I’ve lost an electron.” “Are you positive?” (haha).
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Morty’s steps are silent as he walks forward. He remains in the shadows, utilizing the light sounds made from rustling trees to mask his steps. One hand is brushing his Pokeball belt, ready to bring out any of his team if necessary. The blond would like to avoid an altercation so close to the shrine, but he is Ecruteak City’s Gym Leader first and foremost. It is his duty to take out any and all threats to his city.
But then a voice calls out, effectively making him pause. From voice alone, he’s guessing a teenage girl. Morty privately admits that he is mildly impressed at her senses. Very few people tend to realize he’s in an area until he makes himself known. Ghost-types taught him a trick or two, and his own latent abilities enabled him to stretch his senses to the peak of human limits if he concentrates deeply enough.
To think that she could tell that he’s nearby, even when he’s actively masking his presence...
Interesting.
Well, there’s no use in remaining hidden if she knows, and his own curiosity urges him to step into the light so he could see this person for himself. Morty rounds the shrine like an ancient keeper before his amethyst eyes land on a petite figure. In the low light, his eyes seemingly glow ever so slightly-- a sight that has earned him a variety of disparaging nicknames over the years from the scared and ignorant.
“Most who say that usually have different intentions,” Morty replies coolly, expression defaulting into a pleasant, genial smile. He regards her once more. “But I suppose I can give you the benefit of doubt, if you answer me this.” The smile is still in place, but his tone gains an undercurrent of steel to it. The clairvoyant is typically a mild mannered individual but one of the few things that’ll anger him would be disruption on sacred grounds.
“Why are you here? This is a restricted area, only allowed by the monks who reside in the city, and certain individuals that has been given access.” Either by said monks or by himself. Morty tilts his head ever so slightly, his eyes sharp, watching her closely to see if she’s answering truthfully or not.
For a moment, Red felt like prey under the scrutinizing gaze of a predator; an amused predator looking to toy with its prey. Though no outward signs of great discomfort or slight fear escaped him, Red avoided looking directly at Morty’s eyes until he saw the other step back.
The distance gave him full view of the unnatural glow of Morty’s eyes; he then remembered something he read about in a magazine in a PokeMart somewhere.
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Upon seeing the averted gaze and half step back, Morty blinks, losing the intensity that so often intimidate those who are unprepared for it. He’s been told his eyes become feline like. Sharp, calculating and it captures light in a way that makes it glow, somewhat. He knows the real reason behind it, but he lets people speculate all they want. It makes for an amusing read, in the end.
Red answers his question, short and straight to the point. His tone carries no disrespect, merely seeking an affirmation. From the Gym Leader or the forest around them, he can’t be for certain. Still, the blond smiles, gaining that pleasant air of an innocent man. He’s not the one who makes calls around here. This place is a public area, not under the ownership of anyone but the Voice of the Forest, perhaps.
“So long as there is no ill will, any reason is an okay reason,” Morty responds, defaulting to the hands behind his back pose. “The forest is open to all, Pokemon and human alike. If you do not bring harm to it, it would not bring harm to you.” He makes a general sweep. “The forest is alive, that is all you need to know. Anything you do or say, there will always be a witness to it. Always. So you best be on your best behavior, now.”
Morty closes his eyes for a moment. “But, I do not sense any trickery to your words, so to reaffirm, it is good enough.” A light breeze blew past just then, making the leaves rustle, as if the forest itself is giving its confirmation. “It is a peaceful place to just get away from it all. While it is a shame that not many pray to the forest as they walk through it, it will not push you away. No living creature would want to purposely break the delicate peace that blankets this place. That should include you and me, too.”
It makes sense that being the final Gym Leader, your position is mostly to test a Trainer’s strength, see whether they are worthy or not to take on Victory Road and the challenges that lays ahead in the League Plateau…
Clair struggled to keep the disapproving look of her face as Morty calmly explained their differing roles as Gym Leaders, silently giving him credit for his way with words. The Ecruteak ghost guru had their interactions down to a science, weaving common sense seamlessly with praise to effectively stroke the Blackthorn dragon tamer’s massive ego. Even though she was a recluse by nature, Clair had to admit that she indulged a little bit in their conversations.
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If only Clair knows that her attempts of chiding him only makes it more amusing to the disguised Leader. It’s like she’s embarrassed to be seen with him, even though he knows that no one else would suspect him to be anything other than a tall, delicate looking Kimono Girl. This isn’t his first time donning this image, though it is a first where he does it so thoroughly. If anything, she might garner unwanted attention if she continues to act like this. Still, he merely smiles and gives a little nod, as if that would appease her.
Morty barely bats an eyelash at the little pinch on his cheek. “I’ll keep your suggestion into consideration.” He practices a simple diet that emphasizes on nutrients and energy, with the occasional sweet indulgence. The blond could afford to consume whatever his heart desires but he suppose as Marticia, it would be wise to watch his caloric intake. With that thought, he follows after the grumpy Gym Leader into the heart of the festival.
Amethyst eyes takes in his immediate surroundings with a regal sort of sweep. There is a sea of people but they’re not blocking his view on the food on display. It’s nice that they’re in the food street as opposed to the games or items one. He’d like to survey those to, but after he’s got something in his stomach. Before long, he spots a stall that sells a variety of snack items. His steps are light as he approaches it, giving the vendor a kind smile before his attention is on his wares.
Buns, senbei crackers, cookies, smoked jerky... something that fits any palette that’s not too picky. Morty huffs out a little chuckle when Clair’s image came to mind, but he focuses on his choices. His gaze flits over the fresh good to the dried selections and he finds the dried berries to be interesting.
“Custap berry... if I recall correctly, that’s a poffin ingredient from Sinnoh? I have heard about it from the patrons that comes to the dance theater, you see,” Marticia smoothly asks, tilting her head slightly.
“Yes, my lady. Custap berries are also known as custard apples, for they have a soft flesh and sweet, creamy flavor. They’re out of season right now, so the best I could offer are the dried variety. But they’re dried without using preservatives, so the taste is still quite close to the original.” He places a couple into a small cup before handing it to him. “Please, try it if you like.”
Morty flashes him a smile. “Thank you, kind sir.” He accepts the cup with a toothpick sticking out of it. Morty wastes no time in popping one into his mouth. The texture is expected, but he can see why its known as custard apples. It’s sweet and there’s still a hint of creaminess.
“Would you like to try some?” Morty asks his companion after he swallows, offering her the small cup.
“Oh really? Congratulations to Leaf for the joyous occasion. And I offer my condolences because it’s apparently with--” Morty looks at the smudged writing on his palm. “--Maroon. And my deepest regret to the kids for having--” He looks at his palm again. “--Shamrock as their uncle.”
He gives thanks for the juice airily, playing his fingers around the rim at the base of the glass, but not picking it up or doing much else. Instead, he allows the waiter to tend to Morty without uttering another word, watching, not so much the scene but the clairvoyant himself, even in the moments he doesn’t pay any attention back to him.
It doesn’t matter: Green’s gaze is fixated on him completely, never wavering.
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It seems he has his full attention. Had Morty not known about Green’s little hitchhiker, the sincerity in his expression might have fooled him. As it is, the sharp way he rejected him earlier is still fresh in his mind. That Green and this one is split, one genuine and the other an impostor. He thinks he knows which one is which, but it’s never wise to jump straight into it. The blond wants more information, wants to know this mysterious spirit housed within Green right now.
Morty keeps a tentative eye on even the smallest of details. Even as he smiles, he picks up on the twitching lips, and the sudden grip on the glass. Like he’s trying to act normally, pretending that his words are not digging into a sensitive topic. A name may carry weight, but it’s insurmountable for a being that’s no longer of this world, whose existence has potentially faded from memory.
Green Oak is here, this spirit is not. It cuts deep, and he’s going to twist the knife even more.
“I may try the dessert later, then,” he says lightly. “I am quite fond of a good slice of cake. Nothing too sweet, but enough to make me feel... content.” There’s just the slightest hint of a purr at the end there. While he needs to work on his social skills, the blond does know how to put on a good act act. A necessity in the line of paranormal investigation. Put on a little make-up here, a convincing performance there and he’ll usually get access to places he wishes to probe around in.
Then things starts to get a little more intimate. His personal bubble isn’t breached, but it’s close and his tone carries an impression of something more, if the question isn’t blunt enough. So far, this person wearing Green’s face seems to expand its energy by indulging in social interactions. There’s no malice, nothing that indicates its biding its time for revenge. Intriguing indeed.
Morty takes a delicate sip of his tea, humming in thought. “Well... I’m partial to individuals who are kind and compassionate. Respectful to all beings, living or otherwise.” Here, his eyes form crescent moons. “A person who does not lie to make themselves more desirable. Staying true to themselves. Oh, patience and tolerance is a must.”
A laugh like the tinkling of wind chimes. “You have heard of my reputation. I’m deeply involved in the occult world. A potential partner must be willing to tolerate my... quirks, as well as my side job. At times, I’ll investigate odd cases and if there are supernatural beings involved, I would perform exorcisms.” His smile is easy, non-threatening. “If they can’t handle that, then I’m not interesting in pursuing a romantic relationship.”
Morty’s eyes are little flecks of purple that’s peering straight into Green’s. Watching. Waiting for some sort of spark.
What Morty says should be worrying to a degree, and yet it’s difficult still for Green to place himself in the position where this concerns him. He sits thin-lipped, listening, and yet finding nothing about what Morty’s saying soothing, but somehow disconnected enough that he has no reason to be tense now, with…earlier implications behind them.
Even with the new implication, as clear as day, about the end of his life.
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With someone of Green’s reputation, he expects this friend of his to be more occult driven. So, imagine his quiet surprise upon finding out that it’s an Alakazam who noticed the oddity. While the Pokemon is reputed for its high intelligence, it’s typing means that it’s naturally weak to ghosts, be it Pokemon or spirit. Green provides an explanation, and he nods. Sounds like they have a strong bond and good enough understanding to--
Morty’s eyes narrow imperceptibly, his posture straightening at the brief sense of oddity he’s come to associate with the supernatural.
Green then continues on, seemingly himself but he saw the split second ripple, where the shadow seemingly becomes tangible. The clairvoyant focuses on his companion, who shifted back to that flirty persona who he mistook his intentions with before. Morty zeroes in on the pronoun used. Even if we’re not your type. Green had not addressed just himself. Unlike the stoic wariness just seconds prior, he now sports a soft, genuine smile.
Morty gives nothing away, merely relocating his focus to the waiter who’s arrived with their drinks. He flashes the man a polite smile, tipping his head in thanks as he accepts the saucer and cup. The blond adds in a single sugar cube before he stirs, the movements calculatingly slow. He barely makes a sound when he drinks, his eyes sliding shut for a moment. His mind is quietly whirring with thoughts all this while.
“Well now, I can see why you’ve chosen this restaurant. The tea they serve here is quite splendid,” Morty finally says, tone deceptively light. He wants to prove something first. He too slips into an easy, close eyed smile that shows just a hint of teeth. “You may not be my type, but you sure do know how to... woo a man.” There’s a flirting lilt to his voice now. “Are you sure you haven’t researched this place beforehand to set a... certain sort of mood?”
Morty leans in a little, chin supported by clasped hands. He locks his eyes with Green’s, seemingly to show his interest but his aim is something else entirely. The conversation has steered clear of any ghostly activity. “I have heard of your reputation.” He huffs out a light chuckle. “Quite a resume that you have there. No wonder people could fall for Green Oak.” There’s just a hint of firmness in the way he says the brunette’s name.
Rumors circulating famed persons seemed to be a constant; people talk and gossip about anything and everything. Red wasn’t surprised about that, but what he was surprised about was the other’s — dare he say — nonchalance … about said rumors. But then again, not everyone proved unstable enough to bend and break under the pressure society puts on them. For that, he envied Morty.
Moving on to the reason for Morty’s visit to the shrine however …
❛ Prayers? ❜
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Morty turns, gleaming amethyst eyes landing on the Trainer at his inquiry. “Yes, prayers,” he parrots delicately, tone hinting at a confrontation if Red shows even the slightest hint of disrespect. The blond accepts most insults thrown his way -- it comes with the package of being a Ghost-type specialist -- but he has little tolerance to those who mock this ancient, spiritual practice. It is not outdated in today’s day and age.
And then Red forges on a different path entirely. The ire crackling beneath his skin dies down, leaving in its wake a sense of confusion. Morty is not one who’s easily caught off guard, and he has to admit it takes a bit for him to regain his footing. Huh, interesting. It’s often an agreement or some form of ridicule. It’s very rare for people to think about the forest, let alone the living beings that offer up prayer to it.
Red continues to position himself in a different compartment in his mind. Even if it’s just one person, eh? Morty’s lips curl up pleasantly, radiating a calming presence that feels... untainted. “You are an interesting person, Red,” he admits softly, taking a moment to circle the Trainer once, eyes sharp like. “Very interesting. It is not often that people give me pause, but you did with your words alone.” He turns to face him, hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps there is truth to your words. The forest probably appreciates it, even if it’s just me.”
His heavy gaze lingers on Red for a moment longer before he blinks, breaking the spell. Morty takes a step back, head tilting slightly. It would have been an innocent sort of look on a child as opposed to a grown male but there’s no denying the curiosity shimmering in his eyes. Within the dim forest, it’s almost look like his eyes are softly glowing, unlike that of a feline’s but something that’s beyond human.
Whoops, better tone it down. Sometimes when he gets excited, his control slips just a tad. Morty isn’t in the mood to clearly discern the shadows hidden behind ancient long trees. He closes his eyes, takes a few slow breaths. When he opens them again, they look normal once more.
“So,” he drawls, smiling lightly. “You mentioned that you came here seeking peace. If you do not mind me asking... why?”
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