pkmn-red:
Red nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone’s voice from behind him. He snapped his head around to see what it was, only to find what seemed to be someone who lives here–or at least knows the area better. He was about to sign an avalanche of questions when she offered to room him for the night.
Naturally, he was a bit suspicious at first. It just seemed a little too convenient that this individual lived in the forest. Still, it’s not like he had much of a choice, lest he stay out here throughout the night. (Which wouldn’t usually be a huge problem, but he had no camping supplies.) So he hurried to catch up with her, Pikachu clinging to his clothes with sharp little claws.
He figured that he could ask a few basic questions while they were walking, too. He quickly signed “do you understand sign language?” If she didn’t, it’d probably be one heck of a time trying to communicate, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t dealt with it before.
The Hex Maniac could hear the crunching of the traveler’s footsteps over dried leaves as he caught up and fell into step beside her. He was unusually quiet, and when she turned to face him after a prolonged silence she discovered why; his hands were moving in a methodical pattern, depicting a language she had heard of but never witnessed in person. Having grown up in isolation as she had, she’d never had a chance to learn even the basics of sign language, nor the need to do so.
“I’m unfamiliar with this particular method of communication,” Ava stated simply. It was just fine by her, to be perfectly honest; she much preferred silence and solitude, after all. “My apologies.”
No more than a moment later the pair arrived at a dilapidated temple in a small clearing; the place had been abandoned for some time, so no one had complained when the potion enthusiast had decided to take up residence there. Ava slid open the wooden doors and motioned for the stranger to follow her inside.
After dropping off her bundle of firewood Ava lit a small oil lamp on the counter, lighting up their surroundings; it was all one single room, cluttered from floor to ceiling with plants, books, and loose scattered papers; nearly every surface was covered with glass jars and vials filled with various mysterious contents.
“My name is Ava. What is your name?” The redhead approached the trainer once more with a small blank journal in one hand and a pen in the other, offering them both out to her soon-to-be-acquaintance. “I hope this is acceptable. Since sign language is foreign to me I suppose this is the next best thing.”
