Charlie felt a tidal wave of relief wash over him as an okay dropped from Laurel’s smiling lips, and he had to fight the urge to wrap her up in a hug as the redhead leaned down to confront his newly curious Pokemon. The fact that nobody could see or hear him aside from Laurel made Charlie realize just how alone he really was.
And he realized just how important Laurel had become to him, even in the short time that they had spent together.
Shoving his hands in his pockets with a big grin, Charlie murmured an appreciative Thanks, Red as she and his Pokemon became acquainted fast. Riff and Beats clamored for her affection as she tenderly patted them on the head just like their Charlie did, Riff clamoring excitedly by repeating Did you know Charlie? Charlie pat!
The pair of Pokemon nestled cutely under Laurel’s touch as she reassured them of their safety, feeling like this new trainer was somehow connected to Charlie. As Laurel returned the Pokemon to their balls reluctantly with the promise of hot tea upon returning home, the musician’s spirit chuckled.
"They already dig you, Red," he stated softly with a grin as the pair exited the building into the dim twilight of the city, eyes twinkling with happiness. "They can tell you’ve got a good heart…I can see it, too."
The redhead nodded in agreement as her companion suggested the scenic route--as brave as she believed herself to be she would not tempt fate by wandering in dimly-lit alleyways at night.
Smiling contentedly as Charlie answered her question in that warm, spirited way that seemed to be his very own, Laurel pondered the question that was promptly returned to her.
"I've never heard any live jazz trumpet, anyway," she finally answered after a short deliberation, tilting her head up slightly to smile at him. "But I'd love to hear you the amazing floating horn sometime."
She laughed softly, her cheeks flushing gently at the rare expression. The next question was answered with practiced ease, as she had been asked the very same question more than once before.
This was usually where her vague and overly-simplified explanation ended, making it difficult to assume her motives for traveling. Ultimately, it reduced the likelihood of judgement or, even worse, pity--neither of which Laurel appreciated from anyone. But although she had just met him, she felt as if she could trust Charlie with a little bit more of her story. For some reason she felt almost as if the two were kindred souls, and that Charlie was one of the few people who would not only accept her, but perhaps even understand her.
"I never stay in one place very long. I always leave before I have a chance to form attachments," she sighed, watching her shoes as they treaded softly along the cobbled walkway. "But I really want to find a place I'll miss once I'm gone--a place that will make me feel homesick. I want to find a place that feels like home, you know?"
Her feet abruptly stopped moving, planting themselves firmly on the sidewalk as she gazed at Charlie expectantly, awaiting his response. The old street lamp towering over the pair cast a single long shadow on the ground, the light simply filtering through the ghost's ethereal form.
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i'm back from hiatus, and i'll definitely have replies for all three babies sometime tomorrow!
gracey;
i owe shinya and elesa.
xander;
i owe leaf, vinny, elise.
waiting on may.
laurel;
i owe charlie, falkner, volkner.
ALSO i met tyler, the creator and jasper dolphin this weekend!
disregard my gross face and hair okay
BUT LOOK HE'S SMILING, HE NEVER SMILES FOR PHOTOS FFF---
★★★★★★★★☆☆ : likes new things
★★★★★★★★☆☆ : likes novel settings
★★★★★★★★★☆ : intellectual/ideas/imaginative
★★★★★★★★☆☆ : enjoys art/culture/adventure
*Note: another way to test for personality traits in the modern psychology paradigm is to make use of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI). It is a 567 question long exam. Unfortunately I can currently find no complete and free online versions of the test. If anyone knows of one, please contact me [here] so I can add it to the meme. Thanks!
The sudden sharp pitch of protest in Laurel’s voice made Charlie freeze in his tracks, turning around to stare at his companion with eyebrows arched with surprise. You can’t just leave…!
Mouth dropping open slightly, in awe of the sudden determination Laurel was expressing, the musician remained rooted dumbly to the morgue’s cold floor as the redhead strode across the room to grab his dusty Pokeballs, his friends. As Laurel suggested that maybe he had been put in this position for a reason, Charlie couldn’t help but smile slightly. He had never really thought of his half-existence in that way, and looked down at the concrete floor, studying his translucent shoes. Well, I would have never met Laurel if I had just ditched out on living, the trumpeter thought with a touch of pink coloring his flickering cheeks. She’s probably right.
"At least give your Pokemon a chance to say goodbye before you go."
Charlie was snapped out of his brief reverie by Laurel’s last request, and the musician met her gaze to realize with shock that she had tears welling in her eyes, tears that threatened to spill over pale cheeks. Taking quick strides towards the spirit seer, Charlie leaned down and delicately wicked away some teardrops from Laurel’s eyelashes with a finger, a comforting smile on his face.
Laurel blinked as the man stepped closer, closing the gap between them until they were only inches apart. With a translucent finger Charlie wiped tears from her eyes that she hadn't even known were there. Their sudden proximity, as well as the mortifying realization that her own tirade had brought her to tears, elicited a scarlet flush in the girl's cheeks as her gaze wavered toward the floor.
A pretty lady like you shouldn’t cry over someone like me.
All of the redhead's embarrassment was quickly forgotten, however, upon the appearance of Charlie's two pokemon. Immediately they rushed to their trainer's still body, oblivious to the phantom's presence in the room, desperately clinging to the corpse in a heartbreaking display of grief.
Laurel's vision became blurred as her eyes once again stung with hot tears, although this time she promptly removed them with the sleeve of her jacket before Charlie had a chance to notice. She continued to look on as Riff and Beats said their final goodbyes to their beloved Charlie. Her hands clutched the leather strap of her satchel as a bitter pain in her own chest made her breathe catch in her throat. For a brief moment she struggled to figure out if it was the Chatot and Pikachu's anguish felt, or if it was her own reaction to the situation before deciding it may have just been a little bit of both.
There was nothing more pure or innocent than the love of a pokemon, she thought wistfully as the pair looked up suddenly, roused from their grief by Charlie's invisible touch. The girl managed to force a tiny smile as Riff and Beats approached her, although she hadn't quite recovered enough to say anything just yet.
...can I stick with you until I figure this whole ‘spirit’ deal out?
For reasons she couldn't quite place, Laurel found herself feeling incredibly relieved at the words that had just come out of Charlie's mouth. She turned to him with a kind smile and nodded.
"Okay," she said to him simply before kneeling down to where his pokemon were checking out her shoes. "Hey, there... I'm Laurel. I'm a friend of Charlie's."
She paused after her brief introduction, wondering exactly what she should say. Surely, there was not much she could offer that would take away their pain, but perhaps she could help lighten their burdens? In any case, she would certainly try.
"He loves you a lot, you know. And don't be sad--he's still with you, and he'll always be with you. You felt that before, didn't you?"
She stroked them each on the head, mimicking the gesture that Charlie had made earlier which caused them to look up earlier.
"You don't have to worry, now. You're safe with me; I'll take care of you."
The mortician's voice calling from outside the room cut the conversation short, and Laurel offered the pokemon an apologetic look, promising them each a warm cup of tea as soon as they all arrived back at the apartment before returning them to their respective pokeballs.
"Let's go home, Charlie," she sighed as she placed the two items into her satchel. She took the third, the instrument case, by the handle and finally exited the chilled room with one final, fleeting glance at Charlie's forever-sleeping figure on the table.
Thanking the gruff mortician as she was leaving, the redhead turned her attention briefly to the case in her hands. Examining it, she guessed that it was the perfect size and shape to house a trumpet before looking up at Charlie quizzically. "Are you a musician?"
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Charlie stood pensively behind Laurel as she dutifully filled out the paperwork authorizing the return of his belongings. Hearing the redhead and mortician mechanically discuss his death while he was standing right there was certainly a surreal experience for the deceased trumpeter. Instinctively flinching as the mortician stared right through him, Charlie couldn’t help but think of his two Pokemon that would never see their trainer again, rubbing his temples slowly as a feeling of emptiness swirled in his stomach. If it wasn’t for Laurel’s kindness, who knows where he would be right now?
Jolted from his reverie, Charlie followed Laurel and the mortician down into the chilled preservation room as they finished their paperwork, excitement and nervousness simultaneously coursing through his veins. Thoughts racing, Charlie wondered what it would feel like to finally ascend, to break free of the tethers of this earth. The musician shivered slightly as the temperature dropped in the preservation chamber, the chilling fear of the unknown causing him to freeze before his covered husk of a body.
"Go on, Charlie. It’s alright."
The soft, comforting lilt of Laurel’s voice seemed to melt away the icy tension of the situation, and so Charlie gulped and took a step forward, finally getting a good look at his still body laid out on the table.
Just as her own whispered words of encouragement had seemed to lend Charlie courage, the ghost's steady movement forward seemed have a similar effect on Laurel. She took a small step closer as well, leaning forward just enough to catch a glimpse of the corpse.
As soon as her gaze fell on the tranquil face of the person on the table the girl's tensed shoulders relaxed. Her hands, which had been clutching the leather strap of her satchel, fell softly to her sides as she stared, mesmerized, into the man's peaceful features.
The sound of the mortician entering the room made her jump, and she offered the man her silent gratitude in the form of a nod as he placed Charlie's belongings on a nearby table and promptly left her "alone" again.
When Laurel turned back to face Charlie--his spirit--she was met with a very wistful expression.
"Maybe…maybe I should get going."
"No!" she declared firmly, taking a desperate step toward her transparent companion. Her cheeks immediately flushed red as she realized how direct her outburst had been, but she pressed on with determination. For reasons unknown to her she felt absolutely unwilling to let Charlie leave in his current troubled state; and besides, she had only just begun to get to know him, and to enjoy his company. "You can't just leave. I'll tell you why--"
She paused briefly and crossed the room, taking one of the two pokeballs resting on the table in each of her hands. Turning back to face Charlie, her eyes were lit up with a distinct, fiery resolve.
"These, your pokemon. Your friends," she resumed her point in a softer tone. "Maybe you've been cursed to wander the plane of the living forever. Or maybe you've been given an opportunity people rarely receive."
Lowering the pokeballs back onto the table, Laurel sighed. Her eyes were brimming with tears of frustration and something else she couldn't quite place--and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she was getting so worked up over someone she had known for such a short time.
"I'm sorry this didn't work out the way you wanted it to, Charlie, but... at least give your pokemon a chance to say goodbye before you go."
the fundamentals of potion-making // persephone & laurel
Of all of the regions Laurel had traveled to so far, Kalos by far felt the most foreign to her. With its cobbled walkways to its ancient, elegant castles it also held the most magical charm of any place the young redhead had ever seen.
So, it wasn't completely surprising to her as she passed through a quaint town that she caught wind of an apothecary who had developed what many locals have come to call a "love potion." Each time she heard the story told the person had claimed that the potion had worked on either themselves or a person they knew directly, drawing quite a bit of curiosity from the hex maniac; she had never met another potion-enthusiast before, let alone one who seemed to be such a success.
Finally, after talking to a few people at one of the small local cafes Laurel managed to track down the rumored apothecary.
The short winding walkway that led up to the quaint dwelling was the most charming thing she'd ever seen. A few times she had to stop to observe a flower or an herb she'd never seen before, growing in the flowerbeds and gardens on either side of the path. The redhead realized that this apothecary must have had an understanding of plants and plant-ingredients far superior to her own.
With her curiosity piqued to the highest extent, it lent her the courage she needed to lift her hand to the door and knock.
"You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine with walking."
Charlie raised a surprised eyebrow as the supposedly timid redhead marched right past him on her way out the door, fully prepared for their walk with a satchel hanging from her shoulder. As he started to follow her through the door (taking a deep breath as he did so, still not used to his spirit form), the musician couldn’t help but marvel at Laurel’s turned figure as the odd pair exited the building. You’re one cool customer, huh? thought Charlie, a smile playing on his lips.
He was so deep in thought that he almost completely missed what Laurel said as she turned to him, flushing pink at the bluntness of her half-uttered question. Cute, Charlie mused, his grin growing wider as the redhead hurriedly replaced her slip-up with a more generic question, crimson still burning on her cheeks.
"Yup, take a left milady," the trumpeter answered smoothly, strolling over to one of the brick walls of the alleyway as they began to walk again. "You aren’t wrong or anything," Charlie mentioned casually after a brief pause, turning his twinkling eyes to meet Laurel’s. "I’ve lived on these streets all my life. No rules, no one holding me down…man, I was perfectly happy out here." Chuckling ruefully as he ran his cloudy fingers across a swath of rough brick, Charlie looked down at his shoes for a minute before continuing.
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A normal person may have pitied Charlie at the idea of him living alone and unattached on the streets of Lumiose City, but Laurel contrarily found herself admiring his courageous and free spirit. He was much like herself, in some ways, except it seemed that he had at least found a singular place he loved enough to call "home."
The sound of his voice distracted her from the narrowness of the cramped darkness of the narrow alleys until, in no time, the pair arrived at the city morgue. Laurel followed her ghostly companion into the gray stone building just in time to see him retreating back to her, an expression of dejection plastered onto his face. She looked away.
"My Pokemon won’t be able to see me, will they?"
"Probably not," she replied softly, shaking her head. Of course, if they were ghost or even psychic types it would be much more likely that the pokemon would be able to see their deceased trainer as a specter, but the odds were not in their favor and Laurel would have hated to raise the poor man's hopes only to have them crushed soon afterward. "I'm sorry."
"I'm looking for a friend," she began, wondering if the man would make her fill out a form, or ask her questions to prove that she really knew Charlie while he was alive. "His name is Charlie. He... He died recently."
She glanced up at her translucent friend, at this point, hoping he didn't feel as nervous as she did. In all honesty, all the years she had spent playing with ghosts as a child and conversing with them as she grew older had never made her feel at ease regarding the subject of death.
"Ya mean the homeless fella'. My condolences," the man replied mechanically, with no sympathy in his voice; years of working with death and grief had hardened him. "Just print your name here, and sign here. Will you be taking his stuff? If so, initial right there. I'll also need your phone number and current address."
"I will be taking his things," she confirmed as she took a clipboard from his extended hands and promptly began filling out the required information. Once she was finished, she silently handed the form back to him.
"Alright," he said abruptly as he took the form from her, quickly adding his own initials to the very bottom of the form before placing it back onto the desk. He finally stood and began to descend down the nearest dimly-lit hallway, bidding the girl to follow him. "I'll get Charlie's things together. They'll be ready in a few minutes--"
He stopped to open the nearest door on the left, holding it open as he waited for Laurel to enter. Slowly, she stepped into the cold room where she saw a table with a cloth covering what she could only assume was a body resting on it. She felt her blood freeze in her veins.
"Most folks like to take a minute or two to say their goodbyes," the man explained as he pulled at the sheet, folding it just enough to reveal the head and shoulders of the corpse. His voice softened as he left the room. "Take as long as you need. I'll be close by, if you need me."
And with those final words, he closed the door, leaving Laurel alone with a cold body and its ghost.
She kept her distance, pulling her thin jacket tighter around her as she stood by the door. The body on the table in the center of the room was pale--deathly pale, with messy ebony locks brushed aside to reveal a contrastingly white face. She looked up at the Charlie she knew, tryingto read his translucent face in the silence.
"Go on, Charlie," she whispered, offering him as much of her support as she could muster in her own uneasy state. "It's alright."
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Often described in one word as petite, Laurel has slight curves despite being small-framed. Her toned legs are one of her most attractive features; the rest of her is rather thin, although not unhealthily so.
♫ - singing voice
Laurel never sings in public, but she can often be caught off-guard when she is, or thinks she is alone. She often sings or hums softly when she is distracted with a task, such as mixing potions or making tea, and when she does so her voice is sweet and delicate, though subdued.
all that remains (zombie-mon au) // falkner & laurel
It all began with one human scientist, performing his illegal experiments in the secrecy of his own basement. When Laurel read the reports that had been released after he had been arrested, she remembered feeling sick to her stomach; the cruelties that his pokemon subjects had been forced to endure were horrific. When the police had finished sorting through all of the bodies and parts-of-bodies of various pokemon kept in that makeshift lab, the determined number of dead had been seventy-three, at least.
The scientist had been searching for a way to safely combine the DNA of a pokemon with that of a human in order to grant people the extraordinary elemental abilities pokemon have always possessed since the dawn of time; all he came up with, however, were vials and vials of failed serums, mutated genes, and his own broken dreams.
The vials themselves had been carefully transported to a lab for proper hazardous material disposal, but somewhere between the seizure and the disposal something went wrong, and the first pokemon became infected.
Once the first pokemon mutated, it didn't take before others followed. At first it was believed that only direct contact with a pokemon's fluids--blood, saliva, excrement, etc--would effectively transmit the virus. Soon, it became apparent that it was just as easily transmitted through the air.
The quickness at which virus spread was appalling. In a matter of days it was estimated that nearly a quarter of the pokemon population had been affected; within weeks, not a single unaffected pokemon remained.
The x-virus had an entirely different effect on humans. Those infected by the virus (through direct contact only--usually biting--since humans are not affected by the airborne strains) usually died a slow, agonizing death typically ending with the brain being so severely damaged that the victim either bleeds to death through every orifice or claws at their own face--that is if they're not lucky enough to be eaten alive by the mutated pokemon.
In an ironic sort of way, the sequence of events seemed rather poetic; it was a human that destroyed pokemon, and in return the pokemon would destroy every last human being.
There was a lot of irony in this new world, or rather what remained of it, Laurel noted as she slowly crept into an abandoned middle-of-nowhere pokemon center. The facility, which had once no doubt been a safe-haven for sick and injured pokemon, would now serve as a shelter against the infernal creatures.
A thorough search assured the redhead that the building was, indeed, abandoned. To her relief, there was no sign of mutant activity anywhere. The absence of humans came as no surprise to her; it had been weeks since she had even laid eyes on another person.
After an hour she had salvaged just about every useful thing that remained in the center, which wasn't much. With a heavy sigh she dragged her feet wearily on her way toward one of the bunk rooms.
Flopping down carelessly onto one of the thin cots she closed her eyes for a moment. It felt like ages since the last time she had slept in a proper bed--even a creaky bunk of an abandoned pokemon center was a welcome comfort.
Her eyes snapped open at a faint sound echoing through the dark hallways. She had fallen asleep on her stomach with her sneakers and backpack still on, but in an instant she was awake and alert. Her heart rate began to climb as she held her breath, listening. She heard what she believed were footsteps echoing from outside the room.
"Shit," her lips formed the word with complete silence as she slowly sat up in the bed. The coils creaked beneath her as she dug her nearest weapon out of her pocket: a small pocket knife, which she unfolded and held firmly in her small hand.
The bed creaked some more as she stood up fully, her wide eyes unseeing in the darkness. It had still been daylight when she fell asleep; now, the pitch-black darkness outside of the single window suggested a moonless night.
"Get a hold of yourself, Laurel," she mouthed silently to herself as her hands began to shake with the fear and adrenaline that coursed through her. Slowly, she began to creep out of the room, inching along with her back flat against the wall. Her eyes were beginning to adjust, finally, but she still couldn't see more than a few inches in front of her.
Clank,
clank!
"Stop, stop--" she hissed through her teeth, willing the clattering of metallic trays and medical utensils to stop; in the darkness she had bumped headlong into an rolling stand and overturned it, displacing all of the items that once rested on it.
When all was once again silent, she mentally cursed her momentary clumsiness. In most situations stealth was her only strength; she had only survived this long by staying out of sight. Now, whatever was with her inside that Pokemon Center was surely going to get her.
It may come as a shock that one of Laurel's favorite music genres is hip-hop. Her other favorites include classic rock and trance, but she'll listen to nearly any type of music.
As for her taste in literature, she prefers non-fiction works such as history and bibliographies. She takes particular interest in the topics of alchemy and ghosts, as well as other subjects relating to the supernatural.
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The hex maniac typically spends her free time experimenting with ingredients to come up with new recipes for potions. Although most of the concoctions she produces are completely useless she enjoys the activity nonetheless, and records her discoveries in a thin brown notebook.
Laurel does not laugh often, not because she is too serious or has no sense of humor but because she spends such little time around other people that she rarely finds herself in an appropriate position to laugh.
When she does laugh, however, it is never malicious or spiteful. Her soft, innocent laugh can somewhat be compared to the silvery sound of wind-chimes in a warm spring breeze; pure and musical.
