l 02 l'' a prehistoric promenade

[ßukowski]

[/b] Long post is loooonnnggg. Don't
feel the need to reply this long, aha. ][/ul][/right]

It had been no longer than half an hour before the arches of Verda Bridge, once but graceful slate streaks leaping upon the clear afternoon horizon, were near enough that Milo could catch the distant glimmer of their fine metal. A beacon, they offered direction and satisfaction for the undying hunger of a newborn trainer. Though, along the well-traveled path, his pace remained leisurely. His posture was comfortably slouched with one hand in his pocket and the other hanging loose idly toying with the spherical device bestowed upon him by the lab aide Farah. It was void of the mighty prehistoric creature he'd chosen, of course, as it had been immediately after he left the place; Milo didn't waste but a minute in freeing the Tropius.

To some extent, it was uncanny growing use to a looming prehistoric beast tromping to his left and comprehending the fact that she was apparently loyal to him. Yet, he very much liked her. Her utilization of surfer slang was endlessly endearing, and at some point in that thirty minutes he'd discovered her penchant for not just water, but more specifically beaches - it was then their companionship was doubtlessly secured. Indeed, there was no regret in his choice of a first Pokémon. The Omastar-like lad silently observed her from the cool shadow of her wings, which were splayed outwards to catch the last lazy rays of day - it was nearly 5 o' clock.

Granted, Milo's fondness didn't guard the dinosaur from his assortment of puckish workings. "You smell like bananas.[/color]" He said, a disdainful inflection to his tone and visage, scrunching his weirdly handsome face up at Pacific.

<"Brah, you smell like a Tro-Tropius."> She retorted in her chill manner, her limber neck momentarily curving down and leveling with Milo's face. Perhaps for the best, the actual insult was lost to Pokemorph's slowly amounting ability to understand his comrade - occasional words simply didn't translate. He didn't ask her to repeat herself, however. Rather, the scornful facade was discarded and he playfully grinned, then just allowed his happiness, his serene contentment with the moment, to rest softly on his features as he heeded their relative closeness the bridge.

"Hey, maybe I actually like bananas." He added, but then rapidly changed subject. "Seems we're about here though, lets go." He briskly adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders in preparation for mischief that caused his tiny blue feelers to wiggle with excitement. Much to the Tropius' surprise, her trainer was suddenly sprinting ahead of her, cavorting and laughing and jubilantly calling her name without looking back.

"Pacific, c'mon! Run! The ocean awaits!"

So the Tropius obliged. Heavy, thundering footsteps rapidly approached from behind the male, proving swifter than he. He soon found himself being helplessly lifted by the back of his lavender tunic by a maw of dull herbivorous teeth and the landscape blurred as he was swung around then gingerly deposited on Pacific's back, thoroughly disorientated. <"Gotta go fast, lil man."> She teased. Although, at no point did the dinosaur slow; her hasten continued all the way to the start of the trainer's walkway, where she slowed to a casual, albeit sweeping stride.

Finally, Milo found himself able to regain composure and promptly collect himself into a criss-cross sitting position facing forward. From his comfortable perch upon his friend's back, he scrutinized the finely manicured stretch and hypothesized the great amounts of money that had to of gone into it - the lush gardening, the magnificent stark white pillars. Nevertheless, what truly drew the duo was the vast shimmering navy expanse on either side of them. Pacific eyed a place by the railing where she wouldn't crush the delicate shrubbery and made her way over, the boy excitedly sliding off of her to lean over the barrier.

A salty spray misted his smiling face, while the Tropius joyously refreshed herself by effortlessly dipping her head into the surf. He regarded her rather enviously, released a deep huff, and rested his elbows on the railing. The ocean was just lovely.

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[Seas]

No one knew the ocean was lovely more than he did. He had seen the coral reefs made by Corsola and the fish that hid inside them from the Sharpedo. He had seen the deep sea volcanoes, with the little bubbles floating up. He had seen the Tentacool glistening, almost glowing in the faint sunlight. He had seen a Luvdisc courting dance and the glittering scales that shone in all colours of the rainbow that fell off when they were done. He had gone deep into the dark depths of the ocean and had gotten a glimpse of a Relicanth. And he had seen the treasures of the ocean too, the Clamperls opening and closing, the Staryu's lighting the seas up at night.

What he hadn't yet seen was anything on land. The ocean was lovely, that he knew, but what was the land like? He had heard stories about it being plain, ugly and horrible, but he felt as though he had seen all he could see in the ocean. He'd love to visit, he'd need to visit, but he wanted to explore the other world, the one of land.

It just so happened that as he decided this, he popped up near the bridge, gazing curiously at the giant green thing (though not so big as a Wailord, who he had once passed a pod of) and a strange blue one that seemed oddly familiar for some reason....

The Pok?mon didn't think much of himself, being a rather common Pok?mon. But perhaps Milo would think of the Chinchou and his glowing bulbs differently.

[ßukowski]

[OOC: Pretending like the bridge isn't a mile into the air. durrhurrff]

-

Milo watched the white foamy crests of small waves form and break against the bridge in a rhythmic fashion. The water dipped and bobbed and roared, saluting the two in a fine, crisp blue that was dappled emerald by the waning sunlight. In the distance, he could just scry a person voyaging across the ocean on the back of a hulking nameless Pok?mon, a flock of Wingull but white streaks flitting high above them. He straightened up and uselessly pushed the generous sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows, as they immediately fell back down once more. "We'll need'ta find a Water-type we I can surf on,

[/b]" he speculated, crossing his arms across his chest, "maybe a Gyrados. . .those are big. Or hell, maybe a Swampert. They originated fr-"

<"Let me get a little stronger and I can fly you anywhere faster than a spring Taillow, ya dig? Arceus, 'lil man, I can even swim.[/color]"> Pacific calmly interrupted, swinging her head up and bringing a salty misting of water with it. A future involving his own personal dinosaur air-ferry was endlessly delightful, though as confident as the Tropius was that she could also take on duties as a ship, Milo was doubtful. He would certainly have none of being devoured by some wanton seabeast, and having a seabeast of his own was understandably the best way to prevent such. Swamperts. Yeah, Swamperts were nice.

The Omastar boy laughed anyways, hands on his hips. "Wouldn't that be something? But hell, I have heard of surfing Pikachu, so maybe.[/b]" A yellow glint among the waves affixed his attention, and Milo found himself making eye contact with enormous vivid eyes, finding similarities with his own in their canary color and bizarre plus-shaped pupils. He blinked hard once to assure it was not an illusion that the little fish was staring at him, then found his multipurpose phone. "Chin. . .Chinchel? Chinchew? C'mon, why do I always forget the names?[/b]" The 'morph muttered as he fussed with the device, checking every few seconds to make sure the onlooker remained. "Lab better not throw around their phones like they do their Pokeballs.[/color]"

Catching her trainer's last thought and wondering if it had anything to do with her, the Tropius snorted inquisitively. She too had spotted the Pok?mon by its luminescent angler-like antennae and proceeded to casually extend her neck over the water, tilting her head barely, coal eyes full of warmth, in a sort of polite acknowledgement. Behind her, Milo simultaneously conquered technology; there was a happy beep from the device followed by a brief informative speech:

"Chinchou, the Angler Pok?mon. Chinchou charges up its electric attacks by absorbing energy through its two antennae. Though Chinchou are fish, they have the ability to walk on land."

"Neat." Milo snapped the smartphone shut and it found its place in his right pocket, its counterpart occupied by Pacific's Pokeball. Leaning back over the wall, one hand bracing himself, he waved at the Chinchou with his arm entirely thrust into the air. "Hi!" He piped, unsure of how else to exactly address the creature. "Would you, uh, like to come up here? You can walk on land. . .right?" He really hoped the Pokedex feature wasn't misinformed - it was difficult enough communicating with strange Pok?mon without that prospect.

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[Seas]

He listened to the conversation even though he didn't truly understand it. The only thing that made sense to him was the mention of Swamperts, who he had seen before. The idea of surfing Pikachi made him chuckle, but then, he had heard some odd rumors....it was one of the few things he had yet to see in the ocean, but he wasn't about to hold his breath waiting for it or stay away from the land waiting for it.

The Chinchou wasn't really sure what to make of the strange voice talking about him, though he had to admit that the parts he understood were correct. It was odd, but then he had seen many odd things and wasn't about to make any judgements until he knew more.

He took a moment to consider the human's request, though he already knew his answer. Then he swam over the the edge and jumped up onto the bridge as though it was no trouble at all, which it really wasn't.

"Hello," he greeted human and Pok?mon politely, "I'm Spark, Trouble, Drift, or some nicknames based on it. Who are you?"

He had learned very early that it was always best to start out by being polite. Then it wasn't his fault if things got worse.