Oh, let me put some Color on to fit with Shilo's "Blog"
So, Usually I do not have access to this, but Shilo is... Incapacitated, At the moment. Though she is Insistent I make a "Post" here to let her "Friends" know that she is "Okay" and Safe.
There, I have done it, now I can be in Relative Peace.
Breathing. Not very Responsive. Probably not a great Idea for her to move or talk at the moment regardless even though she fought a while to stay conscious, and now I don't have to deal with her asking about the Pokemon. Which, if she reads this later, are FINE Thanks to her, but would have been fine anyway. They're Pokemon After all.
I am no doctor, but probably at least one punctured lung, not Quite Clear.
Off-Screen Post :3c Um. Our girlie gets hurt but she'll be fine. :3cccc
Tw for gore, and storms, and general Ocs not being okay and Pokemon being in danger! Please lmk if I need more warnings!
There was no time to think, no warning beforehand, dammit why didn’t I watch the news, why didn’t I pay attention, why weren’t my contingency plans better--
There were some measures of course, but Sinnoh wasn’t a place that was often hit by storms, she hadn’t realized how an island would be different. Idiot, stupid, irresponsible.
No, can’t dwell. Only act. Must act. Go.
Shilo ran into the darkness, commanding her Pokemon to stay.
There was a shout, drowned out by wind and rain. Alistair? She shouted something back, something silly, something disarming. She wasn’t afraid, not really, at least not about herself. She would be fine. She always was fine.
It was her curse.
She lifted a sleeve to her forehead, peering into the darkness. She could see better than most at night, but the rain and debris whipped around in thick waves. She knew the island well, but there were obstacles, so many obstacles. She climbed over downed trees and scrambled away from mudslides.
Almost there.
She could see the hatchery, the one building that wasn’t quite protected. A baby that didn’t know its own strength had weakened a wall, and she had meant to fix it, Gods, she meant to fix it, why didn’t she fucking fix it?
She got to the entrance and scooped up the single egg, pink, tied with a little bow, with a Stufful keychain around it. The hatchery was starting to flood. She winced at the expensive incubators, now no better than large paperweights.
Doesn’t matter, can’t dwell, keep going.
She slipped it into a makeshift pouch tied around her waist. Not the best, but good enough for now.
She kicked the door to the room for younglings, almost knocking over the Charmander inside. She whispered apologies to the crying little one, the water hadn’t reached him yet, thank Time. She lifted him and put him on her back.
“Don’t let go no matter what, okay? We’re getting out, I’ll protect you both.” It grabbed the collar of her shirt tightly, trying to be brave, trying so hard to not cry.
Out once again into the wailing night, running despite being blinded by the brain. She knew the way back, knew what was in her way, what to expect.
But the terrain had changed. She hadn’t considered that the mudslides would move the rocks.
She tripped, instinctually turning to her side to protect the egg and baby, landing hard. She felt a crack in her shoulder.
Not careful enough.
The Charmander yelped, and she checked him and the egg over, ignoring the shifting bones.
Later, it can be dealt with later, it can heal, the baby Pokemon can’t make it out without help.
They were okay, if not a bit muddy. She contemplated her next move, it would be hard to get up in the mud with just one arm. As she lay there, she heard a worried trill.
Her Kabutops! It inclined its head, a way to ask if she was okay. He hadn’t gotten the command to stay inside. He probably had been busy evacuating his own little entourage of water Pokemon that followed him and had heard the commotion of her fall.
She looked up at him, mostly a silhouette in the rain. He was old, but his battle scars and chips in his armor gave away his experience. Retired, but not completely out of the game. Rock and water type, sturdy enough to get through the rain, agile enough to not get tripped up, not like her. Plus, with Swift Swim he would make it fine in the storm.
... Hopefully.
She untied the pouch clumsily and pried the Charmander off of her as it protested, holding them out.
“Kabby. Take them to the house.”
The Kabutops clicked as it lowered its head. She intuited the meaning. I do not want to leave you.
She summoned a more commanding voice. “Please, I’ll be fine.” She smiled, hoping it couldn’t see the worry in her eyes.
He hesitated a few moments before relenting with a nod, grabbing her precious cargo and disappearing into the night. She prayed it would be okay. She couldn’t forgive herself if she hurt another one of her charges, not again.
She shakily stood, ignoring the pain. Without the extra weight it was easier, but only just. The Pokemon were safe now but... She had to double check the buildings, she had to, she couldn’t trust that they were fine.
Memory isn’t reliable enough.
It was while she was getting her bearings that she felt the impact.
She opened her eyes again against the outside hatchery wall, a tree branch sharpened by cracking off an old tree protruding from her chest. Fuck. She grasped at it weakly. She inhaled a gurgling breath before coughing up something red. Not blood, couldn’t be blood.
Don’t have blood.
... Did have pain receptors, though, and damn it fucking hurt. Another breath, more coughing, more red getting blown away in the wind, heaviness, broken ribs. The damned thing was decently thick too, some sort of hardwood. Oak? She didn’t know plants that well. ... Didn’t really matter anyway.
Lucky shot, wind.
Her hands were shaking, cracks formed up her arms, sucking in the color and any light that flashed from the sky. These stupid things, every time she was stressed they spread up her arm, starting from their normal position on her palms. Hopefully they recede again later.
Focus.
She gripped the piece of tree. Medical knowledge nagged at her to not take it out, that it would cause more damage.
No other choice. No one is coming.
She dug her claws into the tree, sinking them into the wood. She took the deepest breath she could muster with her one working lung.
And she pulled.
The pain was excruciating. She felt ripping, hollowness, suction. She ignored the buzzing in her ears. Heat built inside her head and chest, though her fingers were growing colder. God, the texture was awful, knife wounds were so much smoother, albeit very, very cold. Her grip was weakening.
Keep going.
She grit her teeth and roared out into the darkness, and with a horrible wet ripping sound, the branch was extracted. She tried to not think of the roughness of it, how much it must’ve cut up, how much worse off she probably was now. She threw the branch to the side, teeth bared in a snarl as if it were still a threat. Something mixed with the cold rain that slid down the new hole in her shirt, something warm.
You have been through worse.
She took a step. So heavy. She felt like she was going to throw up. The edges of her vision filled with black and white stars.
You will not perish.
Another step. Dragging her feet against her will. Lead felt like it was filling the hollow cavity that had been left behind.
I will not let you.
Step.
Step.
She wasn’t even sure if she was going in the right direction.
Step.
Step.
Trip.
Get up.
At this point, it didn’t even feel like she was moving with her own free will. So heavy. ... Keep going forward, keep going forward.
Step.
Step.
The journey felt blessedly short and painfully long at the same time. A blur that she was aware of. Soon the house was in view. Safety. Her confidence filled her with enough energy to take the last few steps.
The door flew open, the man she called her roommate almost looked worried. She ignored his shouting, staring behind him. Her eyes scanned what little she could see of the inside. Mr. Kabby was there. So was the Charmander wrapped in a towel, holding a pink egg.
ooh are we betting?! i bet... one cool seashell on whatever it is we're betting on!
Why do I even bother talking Rationally to Any of you. How am I to even respond to this? Resignation? Indignation? Joy? Anger? Do you want me to write you up a speech on All the things you could have done Instead of bothering me with This? This ask? Why is it even CALLED an Ask? This is a Statement of intent if Anything at all
