#draconscious

The password is a long sequence of numbers that only Leo could possibly memorize, ensuring that this drawer is incredibly safe from prying eyes. The last 4 digits are 1411, but who knows what's the significance behind it.

Once it's unlocked, he finds a collection of research notes written in his native language, so that it makes sense only to him if he's not the one explaining it to someone else. They cover a wide variety of subjects, as he's involved in many different Devon projects, but these research notes in particular are meant to be kept far away from prying eyes as they detail some of the darker projects going on within the corporation.

There's blueprints for upgraded versions of the Absorbers, including larger versions for large-scale uses as well as smaller, more compact versions that can be carried around without suspicion. Additionally, there's an extensive collection of written notes about how Infinity Energy works, its potential benefits and downsides as well as the most efficient power sources- as in, which Pokémon can be drained and turned into energy with the highest amount of efficiency.

Many of the repeated types of Pokémon on that list consist of familiar names- Poochyena, Carvanha, Numel, Baltoy, Wailmer, Zubat, Koffing, Grimer.

@draconscious

          "I know it's just a pass... but, maybe it's more reassuring to say that you are actually tied for the second highest score. Still, it's... nice to know that you were listening to all of those silly stories of mine. Thank you. Next time, I promise I would have told you enough to get a perfect score without trying."

---

@eranthiss

          "...I will admit, the quiz was a little difficult, for those I'm not close with. Still, I'm glad that you remembered what town I grew up in. You'd be surprised how many assume Vaniville Town is my hometown..."

However, despite her best intentions, the heiress is injured...and noisy. Rasping breaths rattle from her bruised ribcage, and the seat that she takes upon the grass is a heavy one, beach-sand still clinging to the fringes of her rumpled cape. Matsuba is stirring now, and Clair turns to meet him with an apologetic, tired smile. It's been a while.

"Hey."

As quiet as she makes her steps, he jolts a bit when she comes close enough. He sleeps light, balanced between the waking world and the horribly vivid dreams he has most days.

(Today, he's sitting by the water. Something wearing his own face is looking at him from across the spring, standing in the doorway of the Bell Tower. Above him, Ho-oh screams.)

Clair looks...well, Clair looks like she got her ass kicked. He sits up, hair falling over his forehead in a messy way without his headband to hold it in place.

"Clair, what happened? Here, let me see."

He reaches for her, a steadying hand resting on her arm as his palms feel warm to the touch. It echoes the warmth of Ho-oh's light as he scoots closer to her to examine what injuries he could see.

She'd caused quite a sudden start, stepping onto the mountain silt and watching one of the new dragons wriggle against its shed. It is shedding season, isn't it?

"Oh."

As if she hadn't been aware of what she'd be walking into, Sabrina stepped back, folding her hands behind her back.

"Yes. You can. Have there been witch hunters in Johto, lately?"

The common name escapes her.

@redlegend (Art Credits: Garchomp. Rika.)

She holds the door open for Red in order to give herself a moment to marvel at the machines, aides, and activity buzzing around Oak's lab. Such environments are all but foreign to her, and Clair wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the sick Dratini.

Now, she's on a mission.

--

Ohkido's out somewhere, changing the world in some small way as he usually does. His absence in his lab is felt, but doesn't dim the energy of the half a dozen like or unlike minds he'd collected to manage things in it while they were gone. As far as public access went, the main portion of the lab was run by his team. Behavioral sciences met environmental sciences in rich debates spanning the whole of five or six whiteboards that spanned the publicly accessible parts.

Some of the trailing notepad and sticky note conversations were arguments, some were agreements, and some were in the middle trying to figure out lunch plans. It was an entertaining source of color to walk into, sick and people asking what he was doing there. Green knew, so everyone on his grandfather's side also knew because they were the ones trying to figure out what was wrong with him in the first place.

Clair held the door for him as he followed and then led her through the busy lobby space, gaggles of kids flocking towards looking glasses into the Professor's current rehabilitation projects. He's an eccentric, an obsessive, and above all, completely obsessed with Pokémon.

Red led her with a quiet whistle down a hall, signing to the Professor's assistant, <<Can we go back to my dragon?>>

It's easy enough. They favor him a lot in Pallet, and even more if possible because of the PWT. There's a lot of pride in his accomplishments that people share. They file him back into a recovery care unit, where other smaller pokemon are housed behind curtains, in special machinery.

And then there was Remy's Dragonair. The frustrated little dragon was in a warm soaking station. He was tiny, and his scales were still Dratini quality and color. A proud monster.

But Oak himself sat there to look at him, because when they pulled the prizes from the Game Corner, half of them were milled or poached, and the other half were carrying problems. The clipboard next to him had with it sheets on sheets of magnified microbes and samples.

He flipped through the sheets, pointing at one of the more insidious, triangle-looking microscopic creatures with barbs on every side of it.

It looked like a scale with tiny dots for eyes.

It's a pretty bad situation, because he fished a wild Dratini out with the same parasite in the last month. He points, ambiguous, at the little dragon.

It takes a monumental effort to get the notebook out of his pocket, and even more to write, tiredly.