#fieldknowledge

     Hey, hey! How's it going?      You keeping up with your studies?                     ...Oh?                   You've taken on a harder look than the last time I saw you.                           Now, this should be fun!                                 I'm getting excited, hey!                                              All right! Bring it on!

             Ever since his return, Dimitri’s Murkrow had been chatting his ear off. They had been apart for two years and it was quite apparent that he owed Miami some bonding. After a few odd conversations, he learned that Miami wanted to try battling.

          “Horrible idea. I’ll prove it to you.” Dimitri had said, before heading off to find the fabled Battle Frontier. Even at the entrance, he was still softly scolding his Pokemon. “Watch a few matches here, Miami, and you’ll never want to battle again. It’s far too violent.”

Flags waving atop tall silver poles greeted him along the path to the entry gate; the same sea breeze that unfurled them ruffled his blue hair. He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his grey hoodie and walked over to the building.

Inside, he spoke to an attendant and got a Frontier Pass. A nice, shiny royal blue case with the Frontier emblem right on the front. Inside was empty until he placed his Trainer ID in. Soon, with any luck, he’d be adding Symbols as well.

Closing the case with a snap, he strode out of the door. 

The facilities loomed in the distance: the Factory, a test of knowledge; the Pike, a test of luck; the Pyramid, a test of bravery; the Arena, a test of guts; the Dome, a test of tactics; the Palace, a test of spirit; and finally the Tower, stretching up high above the rest, a test of all a Trainer’s abilities.

He’d read about them at home and on the trip. Now he was here - 17-year-old Ice had arrived at the Frontier, ready to battle.

Huh, now there was something Koko didn’t see everyday. A Golbat and Pinsir in sunglasses. This raised a number of questions in the diety’s mind. Like why would they even need sunglasses! Wait no, he could understand why Golbat would need them but not Pinsir, and who would make sunglasses for them anyways?

Of course while he was staring the trainer he thought was sleeping was suddenly looking right at him. Oops, well this is awkward.

Cyan had been here before, to the shrine. But that was back when he was a Rocket. It had been rough, tackling it when he was so afraid of bugs, but he’d managed.

It felt wrong then, though. Like since he was a Rocket, his presence was defilement it. He didn’t stay long.

Today, however, he was a new man, and he followed the trail he remembered, a mess of berries and sweet buns in his bag to leave as tribute to the grass-type.

He kept hearing shouts on his way over. Grunts of effort and force. someone was trying to make their way there from another side. An impressive feat, going by the density of the forest.

Cyan was surprised to see that it was a man, older than him, and more built. He must have just gotten there as well, face red and lounging under a tree with some pokemon.

“...think we’re lost Jolty.”

Spark murmured as he looked down at the map, not even certain on where they were at. The only thing he knew, was that they were in the Hoenn region, and they were here to help with some trainers that wanted to join the Go Project. His Jolteon rolled his eyes as he gazed around to find some sort of sign on their location, or even another Pokemon.

‘Huh?’

Jolty gazed over towards the woods and soon made his way over, sniffing around like he caught a scent of a Pokemon. The young man turned his head just in time to see his Pokemon bound into the bushes, which he proceed to run after.

@fieldknowledge​

     Shay could see the Ralts in the man’s arms as she edged ever closer and noticed the pair seemingly not enjoying her presence which makes her think that perhaps he has something on him - or he’s just antisocial. She can’t tell. But curiosity of the stranger has her approaching the man and his Pokemon in a more open manner now as she slides before them, hands behind her back, rolling onto the balls of her heels.