(ACE) The HEARTHOME Team

Before long, the newcomer finally shows up. Connor silently hides behind Polnareff, barely peeking around him in order to catch a glimpse of the stranger. His eyes are wide and watery; it's difficult to imagine that there'd been times today when the Eevee showed glimpses of happiness. Michael may not be a fan of kids, but this particular kid has been through hell and then some. With Pol half-dead from wounds and getting absolutely zero reprieve from all the bullshit, it looks like Mike's going to have to handle diplomacy. Goddess help them all.

“I think that thing lost our trail…How badly are you hurt?”

This is a complete stranger he is speaking to; how smart would it be to use honesty? For all any of them know, this could end up being the one Pokemon that sinks its teeth into their throats at night. Metaphorically, of course, because horses don't have fangs. Hopefully. Really, though, what would be the point of withholding information? Anyone with two functioning eyes (or perhaps more) can see the injuries and exhaustion that is practically painted all over the three of them. One good gust of wind, and all three of them would be knocked out cold.

Fuck it.

”Not sure...hurts like hell to walk, though,” Michael answers, trying not to grimace too much. He cannot complain, not when Polnareff is quite literally struggling to breathe right next to him and has taken God-knows how many beatings at this point. The Lucario is the embodiment of life's capricious nature; Michael still feels the pangs of dislike from only hours before, mixing in with the rapidly-developed respect that formed after the Lucario fought for them and stood with them even as Pokemon like Halloween  ditched the very group they'd promised to protect (proving Michael's point that Arcanines cannot be trusted). He deserves help a hell of a lot more than Mike does.

”My name is Wildheart, I saw you when that thing showed up…thought you might have a better idea of where to head than me.”

”Sorry you had to run into that mess,” Michael says, trying to ignore the pain beginning to once again stab at his skull. The silence stretched on for too long, and now he awaits with an oppressive anxiety for the reflection in the mirror to raise its ugly voice again. Why is it quiet? No, he cannot think about it right now. Don't think about it. ”We're looking for a mansion that's supposed to be somewhere around here. I know you said you didn't know where to go, but have you heard anything of it?”

The Zebriska takes its time approaching. Cautiously, though in this day and age, it could be seen as boldly, he comes closer and speaks. “I think that thing lost our trail…How badly are you hurt?” Well, all things considered… it’s fairly likely that this fellow is now in the best shape of the group, assuming he didn’t stumble into that frozen hell straight out of a series of battles like they had. He waved his hand side to side, in a sort of ‘so-so’ motion. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he had so much as another sprint in him. Every breath felt like his lungs were shriveling desperately within his chest, only to painfully try and push their way out of it right after.  Hell, even the boys could probably put up a better fight than him at this particular moment. He sits, listening, trying to muster enough energy to simply get up.

Wildheart, eh? ”Pol.. nareff.” His words come out on two different breaths, but sound… stable, even with the noticeable rasp. He groans as he leans forwards, looking a little pitiful as he takes a solid minute just to return to a standing position. Using hands to guide him up, thumping back to the ground once with a muffled wince, he does indeed get back up. There wasn’t time to rest much, damnable apocalypse.  He looks down, seeing Connor down by his leg, still gazing at the newcomer with timidity. He nudges him gently, offering a weak, but somewhat convincing smile for comfort.

While Mikey-boy did the talking, Pol was too preoccupied making sure he was in functioning condition to be able to pay attention to what was being said. Not that the kid would be so foolish as to piss him off, considering their condition. He, unfortunately, was indeed the worst off. In a phrase, he was the weakest link right now. Seems his initial thoughts were correct… this newcomer was likely one of their best hopes right now. He feels himself up- plenty of new nicks, mostly shallow. A few were a bit deep, but nothing like the ever-present slice on his side- which was wet again. He looks down, then at the ground. Droplets, some already soaked into the earth, his fur having streaks down it. ”Shit.” The bleeding wasn’t major, but breaking into a too-many-meter sprint, holding the kiddos, made his hip movements his main force of momentum. All that movement, well, you could say it really tore him a new one. He ponders to himself, grumbling incoherently aloud. At this rate, I’m gonna have a wound here for months… and a new scar. He sighs, not exactly wanting to bring attention to it, yet knowing that it needs to be either left be for a period of rest, or they’d need another miraculous oran berry. A guy can only expect so many miracles in one day though… what now?

He holds a paw over the wound as he approaches. Micheal’s talking about the castle- Pol thinks on it, he knew he started off in the general direction that would get them closer to it, but in the ruckus he had no way to actually give it more thought. At this point, he hadn’t any idea of what exact direction, only the vaguest thought of ‘that way.’ Will this shitshow ever have an uninterrupted break?

((OOC: Thanks for your patience! I'm comin back- and trying to fix the image not showing up. *proceeds to be a nerd and fix shit*))

”Not sure...hurts like hell to walk, though,” Wildheart nods. It was obvious to the zebra as soon as he approached them that these pokemon were worse for wear. The more he observed them, the more wounds and signs of exhaustion he noticed. ”Sorry you had to run into that mess,” The growlithe answers. "Don't worry about it. It's not something that cane be planned. Least this time, it was over quickly." He assures matter-of-factually. His eyes linger over the group, noticing the lucario holding a paw to an open side wound. ”Shit.” Ears prick to the faint swearing. Polnareff wasn't looking at him, as he spoke it and the zebstrika thought better of bringing up the obvious bleeding.

Blessedly, it didn't take long for the conversation to resume. ”We're looking for a mansion that's supposed to be somewhere around here. I know you said you didn't know where to go, but have you heard anything of it?” Mansion? Man...sion. Wildheart repeated the unfamiliar word silently in his head several times. His mouth instinctively moving in a swallow chewing motion as the gears in his head churned. "I don't know anything about any man structures nearby." Surely something with 'man' in its name had to do with humans. They may have left, but their things were still everywhere. Weird fake square dens and metal foliage.  Maybe those things repealed the undead?

"Why are you looking for it?" He questions, taking off at a walk after Pol who has already resumed walking. "Is it safe?"

((ooc: Yay!))

This stranger-Wildheart-mulls over his response, slowly draining whatever last dregs of hope Michael still carried. It's clear nobody here knows where they are going; hell, they could be stumbling in the wrong direction and Michael wouldn't even think twice. Auriel-or was it Leto?-had mentioned the mansion being in this direction, but nothing else had been said. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What if they end up passing it without knowing?

For a moment, his eyes dart over to the others, catching a glimpse of Connor looking at Polnareff with that familiar worried expression. No doubt they are thinking the same thing-the Lucario can't keep going for much longer without any rest, especially not after he'd gotten them away from that horde. They need to find this goddess-damned mansion. Michael doesn't care if he has to personally run through thorn bushes in order to open a path, as long as the fucking place is in sight.

"I don't know anything about any man structures nearby."

Wildheart's reply brings Michael's attention back to him. Definitely not the response he wants, but it's not shocking. It looks like they have no choice but to stumble around in the dark, and hope nothing decides it wants a tasty meal. Of course, the fact that they're even still alive makes Michael think maybe their luck is finally reaching its limits.

"Why are you looking for it? Is it safe?"

Safe? The Zebstrika's questions are straightforward enough, yet they still manage to send hypothetical needles into Michael's skull...or maybe that's a symptom of his growing headache. Either way, lying seems futile. Michael does not know the first damn thing about this place other than the fact it might be suitable for hiding out in. A discomforting thought, but it is the truth.

"I'll be honest with you, I have no idea," Michael admits as he walks with the others, though the words leave a bitter taste behind. For all anyone here knows, they could all be waltzing straight into a death trap. He might lead a stranger, a wounded Lucario, and a kid right into a place teeming with undead.

The saddest part is, none of them really have any other choice.

"We need shelter, though. Can't stay out here in the dark. Mansion's as good a bet as any."

Fuck, Michael can hear his sentences becoming choppier with each passing minute, but the words are swirling away from him. He tries not to cringe too hard when the pain from his leg wound flares up again, still thinking of how heavily injured Polnareff is. Nothing can be done to patch it yet, but how long could the guy keep going when he might as well be half-dead? That isn't even considering the scent trail blood leaves behind.

Goddesses save him from these thoughts. Michael has to focus. He thinks back to all the times he spaced out when others were talking, how confused he felt when snapping back to reality. That can't happen here. There's someone waiting for him to return, his beloved, separated from him for years. Connor has his sister, and the other two might be in similar situations. Seeing Polnareff slowly bleeding from battles wounds and the fluffed-up fur, the wide eyes of a child fearing for both his own life and that of his companion...

He cannot let them die. He can't. Michael won't leave them like Halloween did.

"We just have to keep moving," he says, doing his absolute best to keep himself steady. The sharp pain in his head worsens with each word. It hurts so fucking bad, and nausea is starting to kick in, but Michael won't waste time complaining. They can make it-they have to.


(I'm getting this team together I swear...anyways, I figure that they're fairly close to the castle place, so it won't take too much longer to get there even though most of the team is unfortunately injured. I figure this would give time to help Wild assimilate more with the others if you'd like, Nyra. Otherwise, a short time skip is always an option. Just let me know)

"Why are you looking for it? Is it safe?"

Pol sighs, wondering the same thing himself. He ponders the options available, and frankly, none of them are any more ‘safe’ than another. He looks back to his wound, trying to assess the damage. Bleeding slowly… no berries to render an actual treatment, but at the same time, so long as there’s no heavy exertion, it should clot up soon enough. If it didn’t… well, even moderate blood loss isn’t something that bodes well for anyone.

"I'll be honest with you, I have no idea. We need shelter, though. Can't stay out here in the dark. Mansion's as good a bet as any."

The Growlithe seemed chattier than ever- even though they’d only been acquainted for a short while, Polnareff couldn’t help but feel like this was a bit out of character for him. ”Even if it isn’t.” His voice is measured, consciously making sure to not come across as being in bad a shape as he is, speaking between deeper breaths. ”If we can get in, we have better chances, in some ways. Here, we have three-hundred and sixty degrees of possible attack angles… and I ain’t exactly as capable of sensing where one may come from as I’d like to be right now.” He takes another deep breath, two, a bit of a pause before continuing his thoughts as they walk. ”I’d rather have two doors to watch, then every single tree, branch, and bush out here. Michael is right… for now, we keep moving. We’re all we’ve got, so let’s make sure there’s nothing else lost.” In just a few hours, he’d watched so many die, and plenty more seem to vanish or get separated. He wasn’t used to failing in his wish to protect others, and it didn’t help that he’d watched the growth of a moral grey area back in the city.

It wasn’t that far, right? They were closer with every step… right? Pol struggled more and more as time went on, and try as he might, it was showing just how much more as well. His breaths were growing heavy; now fairly obvious and audible huffs. Even though the bleeding had all but stopped, there was still a rather unsightly and obvious splotch of dried blood on his side, matting the fur. Just a little more, damnit. His eyesight was fine, he didn’t feel… too light-headed. The Lucario looked to Wildheart, speaking softly. ”Wildheart, right? …Can you fight, decently enough?” At this point, the quadrapedal pokemon may be the only one that really can.

Polnareff looked down, to Connor… the kid was probably scared out of his wits. Staying so close to Pol, even though they’d only met recently… like clinging to someone after all others had left. The Eevee had to be exhausted. He steadied his breathing and voice, even for just a while. ”Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get you somewhere cozy to sleep, sometime.” A vague statement, but he wasn’t exactly going to get the award for world’s most comforting lucari-dad. But… he’d hoped it was something.

"I'll be honest with you, I have no idea. We need shelter, though. Can't stay out here in the dark. Mansion's as good a bet as any." Comes the unpleasant, but not unexpected response. The closer he watches each of the new pokemon walk the more imperative he comes to understand this to be. Either that grass undead has been chasing them all across Sinnoh or there had been a lot more. ”I’d rather have two doors to watch, then every single tree, branch, and bush out here. Michael is right… for now, we keep moving. We’re all we’ve got, so let’s make sure there’s nothing else lost.” Wildheart doesn't press for specific details. Why spoil further what remained of the night by asking probing questions when clearly someone had died?

"Agreed. What's inside can't be worse than a night out here." The longer they walked, the more obvious the lucario's injuries in particular become. The fighter looked like they were struggling for breath even at a light walk. Should he offer to help? Short of offering to actually carry them on his back, he doubted there was much he could do. ”Wildheart, right? …Can you fight, decently enough?” The question catches him by surprise. However, he quickly got its meaning. If they did run into trouble...he was the only one relatively uninjured. At least all of his wounds had scarred over. The zebstrika nods in response. "I've made it across regions, I can handle myself. If something is inside the..." What was the human word they used again? "mansion, I can handle it."

What would this thing even look like? In their prime, the human structures were carved from unnatural stones into perfect angles. Bright colors, tall as a tree and wide as a small pond. The last time he remembers going nearby those structures they had collapsed into themselves. Would this be the same? Even if it was, Pol's words would still ring true. It would be several less directions to worry about. They'd just need two entrances and the ceiling.

Thank the Goddesses one of them is able to provide a decent enough explanation and convince Wildheart of their (admittedly rushed) plan, though how Polnareff can keep talking at this point, Michael has no idea. It doesn't matter. The best they can do is try to keep walking no matter what, and push past the inevitable agony that comes with such an action. His own leg wound (if it's not infected by now, then Michael really fucking owes the goddesses big time) and worsening headache are currently screaming at him simultaneously, as though he can actually do anything about them. Where the fuck is that damn mansion?

”Wildheart, right? …Can you fight, decently enough?”

"I've made it across regions, I can handle myself. If something is inside the...mansion, I can handle it."

Michael is barely able to focus on the conversation, but he catches what Wildheart says well enough. Looks like Michael's guess from before was right-this guy really is the only one who can do anything useful if things go south. Made it across regions, though? Damn. This guy has to have seen some shit. Wildheart might be even more handy than Michael expected, if what he's saying is true. For all anyone knows, even the name he's given them might be fake. Not that any of them can afford to show the newcomer obvious distrust, as things are...

Michael frowns. He swears he can see something weird through the darkness, something oddly-shaped yet not moving at all. What the hell? Despite the obvious injury on his foreleg, Michael can't help but move ahead to get a better look, his ears twitching as he listens for any sort of movement. There's nothing. As he gets closer, Michael sees that his object of interest is some sort of crumbling structure-some kind of wall, similar to that gate they'd been forced to flee through? Not very intact, it looks like, considering there's more past the broken bits...what the fuck has he stumbled across?

Whatever it is, it better be worth his damn time. This could be a clue to where their destination is.

”Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get you somewhere cozy to sleep, sometime.”

Through this short walk, the Eevee had kept quiet. So much had happened in such a short time, and he can barely keep up with it; even the arrival of a stranger couldn't drag Connor from his exhaustion. He looks up at Polnareff, his blue eyes looking rather dull.

"Thank you," Connor says as he looks back down, though his voice is little more than a mumble. His paws are numb, and his eyes are really heavy. He wants nothing more than to lie down somewhere, curl up, and fall asleep...the fact that it's so dark is only tempting him to close his eyes. Though the Eevee can see Michael inspecting something ahead of him, Connor has so little energy, he can't bring himself to care. What can he do, anyways? Nothing, that's what.


(Just a FYI, what Michael found is part of the gate that surrounds the mansion. It's been broken through, so they can go through here as a shortcut to the front of the mansion this coming round instead of us having to go alll the way down to the actual entrance.

Also as a note, I figure a good enough time has passed since night first arrived for it to be dark enough that things can't be seen well at a distance. Hence why Michael couldn't recognize what the gate/fence was until he got closer.)

Polnareff simply offers nods as reply to the Zebriska, and later, to the smol Eevee. They come to a crumbling building… or, maybe just a big partition for a wall? In the darkness, all that’s easy to see is that whatever it may have been, it’s now as busted and broken as most of the world seems to be these days. He catches up to Michael, looking around with a huff. He wants to sit and rest, but at this point, even leaning against something for support would be hard to get up from, the sheer exhaustion of the day being but one part of that.

He does what can to get some better lines of sight, but it seems as though the lot of them were only able to see what they could by the grace of the moonlight, or what little of it there was. He looks to either side, pondering… go around? Or just trudge through? It could indeed be an outer wall to this place they were headed. ”Just another obstacle… we should push-“ He grimaces, wincing uncomfortably. Then again, it’s doubtful that there’s much he could do to get anywhere near comfortable in his state- almost funny, to think that he was perfectly fine before that Arceus-forsaken asshole bit and burned him before getting to the city.

He steps forwad again, focusing… damn. He was able to focus better now, but with his current status… getting anything more than a vague feeling of what auras may be in the very immediate vicinity was difficult, let alone pinpointing something less than alive ahead of them. If nothing else, he could attest that there wasn’t some infected flying type waiting to pounce them from the nearby trees…

((OOC: Sorry for what feels like a less substantial post. Bit of an exhausting weekend, and I also forgot some rather important things that I have to do today, so I’m a tad rushed. Loving being back though!))

Everything was become difficult to tell apart as the only light became that of the moon overhead. Trees cast shadows everywhere creating pockets where anything could be hiding unseen. Something does stand out from the rest as they approach though. It's oddly angled even its crumbling state the edges are too straight for any normal boulder or cliff. When they get close enough, he tentatively kicks a hoof against it. He can see the others looking at it curiously as well and around it for undead. The night this time stays peaceful as they move past.

Was this the mansion? This crumbling...thing didn't look like it would be able to protect anything. ”Just another obstacle… we should push-" Polnareff starts, cutting himself off as he winces. "Through it?" Wildheart offers, moving to walk through the gap. "It doesn't seem natural...that would mean there's more human stuff nearby, right?" He hoped that would be true. Right now, he wasn't sure how far his new companions could travel with their injuries. As they continue the zebstrika stays close and watches his new companions, ready to attempt to catch them if they falter...hands would be a lot more useful right about now.

If the four pokemon had been paying close enough attention they would have noticed that the shadow of a nearby tree happened to be much, much larger than what would be appropriate for the time of night. Of course, it being night time this particular shadow blended into the darkness like a piece of coal in a sea of ink. Slowly, slowly it came closer, to the point where it was just behind them. She waited silently until she got a good idea of exactly what their intentions were for visiting this place, and took them all for a group of world-weary saps hoping for a peaceful respite.

"So I see you folks are new to town. Well howdy." She said with a silly voice, with only her head poking out of the ground. Slipping back into safety before they had the chance to react, she giggled with the emptiness of a pre-recorded laugh track. It wasn't long until she slipped out of her fake country accent and slipped into the Lucario's shadow, mirroring his shape except with a cheshire-cat grin splitting through the middle.

"I take it that you're looking for potions, riiiiight? Well, you might find some in there! I don't think scavengers have taken everything of value out of this old crack den. But believe me when I say that it isn't empty if you know what I mean. That, of course, requires that you trust my word, which I myself wouldn't do in a million years."

All three of them inspect this newest discovery, and it's pretty obvious that whatever this structure is, it's in no way defensible. That means the mansion is still their goal. Polnareff mentions as much, with Wildheart finishing the statement for him. Michael wonders why the hell humans had to go and make their mansions or dens or whatever so annoyingly disconnected. Would it kill for something to be simple for once in his life?

"It doesn't seem natural...that would mean there's more human stuff nearby, right?"

"Possibly?"

Michael won't claim to be an expert on humans, but it's as good a clue as they're going to get. They push forward, as the others mentioned. Of course, knowing their luck, it makes perfect sense that five minutes couldn't go by without something else happening. That sentiment has defined this entire ordeal.

"So I see you folks are new to town. Well howdy."

If this was a competition for "fastest way to scare the ever-living fuck out of Michael", this would have easily taken the gold. His fur nearly flies off his body, metaphorically speaking of course. He hears Connor give a high-pitched squeak, and sees the Eevee promptly try to hide himself. That's when Michael turns to see...

There's-there's a fucking head poking out of the ground. Goddesses above, has he finally lost it? Has the crazy finally set in? Almost as soon as it appears, the thing is gone, replaced with some giggling that really didn't mix well with the darkness. Dear goddesses, Michael doesn't know which is worse: this being an actual person, or merely a hallucination caused by this fucking headache.

"I take it that you're looking for potions, riiiiight? Well, you might find some in there! I don't think scavengers have taken everything of value out of this old crack den."

What the fuck.

"But believe me when I say that it isn't empty if you know what I mean. That, of course, requires that you trust my word, which I myself wouldn't do in a million years."

"Comforting," Michael deadpans, though the words are a lot more aloof than they have any right to be-his eyes fix upon Polnareff's shadow, which has suddenly grown a damn mouth. That's logical. Nothing about this is in any way insane. Connor is quivering like a leaf, barely able to poke his head out enough to look at the weird shadow.

"You know, it's hard to trust someone when you don't even know their name," Michael says, trying not to piss off...whoever, or whatever this is. Okay, so maybe he's not great at being polite without also being awkward, but still. Didn't this...whatever mention something about potions? Whatever the fuck those are, they may prove helpful. Michael's willing to play nice for that.


(Just a reminder: the mansion will be relatively safe so the injured/exhausted members can recover. Don't want Polnareff dropping dead ;-;)

Pol collects himself as they have a brief moment of rest, even if that “rest” is only the group standing still for a short bit of time, readying o press forward again. Wildstrike is right though- this structure is rather… well, WAS rather well put together, it seems. Not simple wood or some such- there ought to be more nearby.

"So I see you folks are new to town. Well howdy." Polnareff, eyes wide, whirls around. A poor choice, even if it was instinctual reaction. His face contorts to match the stabbing, yet burning pain that shoots throughout his body- his wounds hurt, of course, but it’s unfortunately easy to see just how far he had pushed his limits. As he refrains from making his pain as audible as it is visible, the creature rambles on about… this, and that. It’s difficult to even hear, let alone process the rush going through his head.

Didn’t sense it? Are there more? Is it infected?! So many thoughts… trying to make sense of it, trying to think of whether or not he’ll have to fight; perhaps one final time, dare he entertain the thought. Amidst it all, maintaining a level head proves most challenging, yet easiest. In the end he cannot do much of anything- to act rashly would to ensure harm to himself and others. He tries to listen, and is further disheartened. Fantastic, another psycho… As if being bitten by a flame-toothed fucker earlier in the day wasn’t enough of a crazy dosage.

Michael notices it too, and… once again, is stepping up in a manner that’s surprising. Playing the calm negotiator- well, perhaps just conversationalist at this point. Polnareff once more, is unable to do much but sit aside, and see if he can’t work himself back into, a decent enough shape to keep moving as needed. Even as there’s a face in his shadow… Sadly enough, it’s not the craziest he’s seen. Perhaps it’s one of the creepiest incident’s though.

((OOC: Pol's probably one proper scare or adrenaline rush away from fainting. Even if he isn't taking attacks, he's had old wounds open, he's at physical limitations and then some.))

They were so buys examining the human-whatever-it-is they had let their guard down. It's not until the shadow that Wildheart becomes aware that they are being watched. Like the others, he whirls around, ears prickled forward as he searches the darkness for the sources of the voice. He finds it -- well, most of it. A head sticks partway out of the ground beside them as it continues to heckle them. The zebstrika nearly jumps as the grinning form shoots into Pol's shadow, but the hair along his mane does raise with the faint crackling of static shock.

"You know, it's hard to trust someone when you don't even know their name," Michael says, trying to be diplomatic with the ghost. Were those things...'potions' important? And weren't they looking for a mansion, not a crack den? Or are they the same thing? Why did humans have to have so many weird things! "It's hard to trust somebody when they keep hiding in plain sight." Wildheart snorts, ears starting to pin backward as his temper flares.

The banette can't help but laugh at Michael's sarcastic reply, this time a real one. It isn't the most pleasant sound in the world, and sounds like a chain smoker trying to clear out their throat. "I think we'll get along just fine." The rest of the group instantly seemed to bore her as they prattled away, and it wasn't long until she let out a loud yawn. Time for some entertainment. "First off sparky, I'm not an idiot. I know that you'd just love to fry me and leave me to slowly die a painful death. Second? I'm not asking you to trust me, I literally just told you that it was a bad idea."

She stretched out her shadow so that a silhouette of herself appeared on the adjacent wall. "I'm Beyoncé, a ghost that lurks in the shadows, ever watching, and ever laughing. Why, I'm an absolute creep! So don't trust me, like how I don't trust any of you." Of course her left eye was glowing a menacing red while saying all of this, while the other glowed magenta. If she was infected or not seemed to be equally likely. Then, she poked her head out again. "I love fucking with people, but putting that aside, there aren't any infected in there. No reason to be, plus, I think I saw a potion that you could use to fix your friend there. So? Go right ahead." She ducked back into the safety of darkness, but still she was watching, curious of what they'd do.

(the second that a person calls her beyonce, just assume that she's going to cackle at them)

Michael expects a lot of things from this stranger, most of them less pleasant than the last, but all he gets is laughter in response. That...could be worse, but nothing about this encounter feels right. The fur on his neck is standing on end, but whether that's due to his initial fright or something more sinister, Michael has no idea.

"I think we'll get along just fine."

Is that a good thing or a bad thing? They probably won't find out while standing around in the dark like this. Michael looks at the others-how are they handling the sudden appearance of whatever the hell this guy is? At the very least, Connor has to be freaking out, poor kid.

The first one to catch his eye is Wildheart. Judging by the sight of ears flattening (he's done the same thing himself before), Michael can hazard a guess that he isn't too enthused by the arrival of their latest 'guest'. Understandable, to say the least. "It's hard to trust somebody when they keep hiding in plain sight."

"First off sparky, I'm not an idiot. I know that you'd just love to fry me and leave me to slowly die a painful death."

Connor is still whimpering, but the sounds are muffled by his own fur. He's crouched so low to the ground that it's making his body hurt, but there's no way he'll leave the safety of the others to go near that shadow. One of its eyes is glowing red, and all he can think is that it looks like a monster from those old stories his sister used to tell him, before all of her conversations became life lessons instead. If only she was here to protect him.

"Second? I'm not asking you to trust me, I literally just told you that it was a bad idea."

Why couldn't it just go away instead? Connor tiptoed over to hide behind Polnareff, but in the darkness, not even that can make him feel safe. All he wants is a place where danger can't find him, but this whole time, there's been nothing except danger. One cruel Pokemon after the next, wanting to hurt him and everyone else. He can't be sure this new Pokemon, this shadow, is any different. That thought makes him tremble even more.

"I'm Beyoncé, a ghost that lurks in the shadows, ever watching, and ever laughing. Why, I'm an absolute creep! So don't trust me, like how I don't trust any of you."

Michael has no idea what to make of this "Beyoncé". Weird name, but whatever. For all he knows, that's not even their real name, but that's a trivial detail. The important thing is to figure out what their next move should be. Things weren't exactly going smoothly before, but the new arrival definitely changed the situation regardless.

"I love fucking with people, but putting that aside, there aren't any infected in there. No reason to be, plus, I think I saw a potion that you could use to fix your friend there. So? Go right ahead."

Yeah, go right ahead, and probably stumble into something that will kill them all. Wouldn't that just be this group's luck? Not that staying out here will be beneficial to their odds of living, of course, Michael's not stupid enough to forget that. Was that this shadow's angle? Try to psyche them out, get them to ditch the mansion-hell, maybe they've made the place their own, and this is a special way of telling intruders to fuck off (truthfully, if Michael could travel through shadows, he might do the same damn thing).

Maybe all that's just your paranoia speaking.

It could be paranoia, but the facts remain the same: they really have no options but to go forward when moving in any other direction is a suicide mission for anyone not named "Wildheart". Michael wouldn't trust this new guy as much as he could pick them up and toss them (they might appreciate the sentiment, which is a weird thought), but it isn't trust he's working off of. It's desperation. Anyone with eyes could see that; why try to hide it? He may as well try to hide the fact his fur is striped.

No, Michael isn't going to let what might only be his own goddamn paranoia intimidate him.

"Don't see this as a sign of trust, because I'd be an idiot to just accept that the place is safe," Michael says to the newcomer, "But I'm still going to the mansion."

He doesn't bother to voice the obvious reasons, and with that, Michael begins to walk away. With any luck, the other three would take the cue and follow. If the newcomer didn't, well, that's their choice. He's too tired to deal with anything other than reaching their destination.

(We'll be reaching the mansion either next round or the one after, just fyi! I'm gunning for next round, but please don't feel rushed <:
also I'm sorry this post is kind of lackluster)

((OOC: Gonna skip this round. Pol isn't in a position to protest much, verbally or physically, and is gonna be sticking a little farther away from the kids- well, keeping his shadow a little farther away at least.))

The newcomer definitely isn't wrong. Wildheart snorts at the nickname. He would love nothing more than to fry the smug grin right off their shadow face. However, now is not the time to be picking fights with strangers, no matter how creepy they are or hoe much nonsense they spoke. "Don't see this as a sign of trust, because I'd be an idiot to just accept that the place is safe," Michael says, walking away from them. "But I'm still going to the mansion." There was no other good option was there?

"Good, it can't be worse than the woods at night." He says, trotting after the striped canine. "Thanks I guess Beyoncé. Good luck with whatever it is you do in the woods." Wildheart calls back to the ghost, having no concept of the name given not being their real one. Nor that they might be coming with. The zebstrika grimaces 'one last time' over his shoulder back at the red and purple points of light in the darkness before taking his eyes of them completely.

Twilight flashes an impish smirk at the horse's words, she got one out of five, so not bad. Speaking of the horse, Twilight couldn't identify what species he was. Wait, she'd heard the name before but must have forgotten about it. Whatever, she could get away with calling him Sparky or Edge Horse, and pokemon would still know what she was talking about.

It's at about this time that Twilight finally notices the eevee cowering next to the snarktastic growlithe. Poor thing looked scared half to death. Must be really young, She thought. For a split second she felt the urge to apologize, but then her years of bitterness smacked some sense back into her. No, you're a bad bitch, keep that salt going.

"Good. Don't break your fucking neck on the stairs. It's more beat up than a prostitute late on her rent." She cackled at Michael. Perfect, what she said was adequately terrible, and now she had all of these stooges right where she wanted them.

Now, she cast her shadow so that it would manifest on the closed door. Her glowing eyes in the silhouette casted a maroon light on the party, and indeed was the only source of light to be seen in the dark mansion.

"So, now that I have allowed you in my domain, I require you to answer a question: Have you seen a little green buneary? Or, maybe a green lopunny, probably around yea tall, with a twitchy nose and great big blue eyes?" She gestured as she spoke, and then looked at all of them for their reply.

[my post has been edited, I'm very sorry for the delay]

"Good, it can't be worse than the woods at night. Thanks I guess Beyoncé. Good luck with whatever it is you do in the woods."

Well, there's one of them at least. A quick glance behind him confirms that everyone in this ragged little group is following, taking a weight off his chest Michael hadn't even realized was there in the first place. Soon they could be out of this shitty forest, and into what is hopefully a safe place. It better be safe. Judging by the burning sensation in his foreleg and the way his head is pounding, Michael isn't so sure he can keep up this focus for much longer. He's lucky his vision hasn't started blurring yet.

Connor darts over next to him, his the fur on his neck standing up (it really doesn't make him look even remotely intimidating). There's no doubt he wants to be as far away from the newest misfit as he can possibly be. Speaking of which...

"Good. Don't break your fucking neck on the stairs. It's more beat up than a prostitute late on her rent."

Michael doesn't know what a prostitute is, or rent, and quite frankly, it means about as much to him as the dirt under his paws. He goes to spit back a retort, but bites down on the words-it's not worth the trouble, not when his body's hurting like hell. With that in mind, he keeps walking, leaving "Beyonce" behind and continuing down the path, wincing every time he has to place more weight on his injured leg. Connor is sticking quite close to him, but then, what kid wouldn't do the same thing in a strange area, surrounded by darkness?

Michael couldn't say how long it takes before he sees a shape begin to form in the darkness, but eventually there's a structure far superior in size to both the place they found earlier, and their refuge in Hearthome. It has to be a mansion-at this point, what else could it possibly be? Even if the place is something else entirely, it's still shelter-still a place of refuge from whatever lurks out here in the night. Michael picks up the pace, his nose twitching for the telltale scent of putrefied flesh-but there's none. Doesn't mean they're entirely safe, but still, it's better than nothing. "Beyonce" mentioned there being nothing threatening inside, but why the fuck should he trust her? At least Wildheart had the decency to give a normal introduction instead of freaking them out with some shadow trick.

The closer he gets to the 'mansion', the sadder it looks-in the moonlight, he can just make out the places where some of the building has collapsed into itself. It's quite the sorry, neglected sight, and he can somewhat believe nobody's been here in...Goddesses knows how long. Going by its size alone, this place must have been quite the sight once. Michael can't claim to have a lot of experience with humans, but from what he's seen of their cities, they seemed to have some need to stand out, always building huge structures; even the smallest of which still dwarfed Michael. Now, though, this mansion is nothing but a rundown, sorry excuse for a place to stay-but better than the forest, at least.

Michael trots over to the front door; lucky for them, it seems to be ajar, though not enough for him to see anything inside the mansion itself. They'll have to be careful as they enter, in case something is hiding itself nearby. Right as he thinks that, though, some of the interior begins to light up, making some scattered debris and broken objects visible...but why is it doing that-?

He steps back-no, nearly jumps back as a light begins to take hold on the front door, morphing into a very familiar pair of eyes. A pair of eyes belonging to a certain Pokemon their group just so happened to run into earlier. Goddamn, couldn't they ever catch one break? One, single break, that's all he's asking for, but no. Goddesses above, this wound of his is going to become infected and kill him before any one of them is able to put one paw in this mansion.

"So, now that I have allowed you in my domain, I require you to answer a question: Have you seen a little green buneary? Or, maybe a green lopunny, probably around yea tall, with a twitchy nose and great big blue eyes?"

Domain? Some part of him, lurking in the back of his mind, wants to snap at that, tell "Beyonce" she has no goddamn right claiming this place as her own and then conveniently forgetting to mention it before they show up. Who the fuck does she think she is, thinking they'll have to be "allowed" inside the mansion? He would love to say fuck off and leave it at that. But at the same time, it sounds like she's missing someone important to her. That hits a little too close to home. He holds back the harsh words (at least for the moment), but they still need access to this place. Their group isn't in good enough shape for any sort of bullshit, even the kind Michael can relate to. It sucks that she's lost someone-assuming this is a loved one and not someone she's looking to get revenge on or something-but it will have to wait.

"Haven't seen anyone who looks like that. Sorry." If that's not good enough of an answer, then oh well. It's the truth. He looks back at his own group. "Let's go find a place to stay in here. I'm sick of this fucking forest."


(I'm really sorry for how bad this post is, I'm not in a Great Place rn. Feel free to move inside the mansion in your posts)

There is a point where one’s energy levels are starting to fade so fast, they stop giving a hot damn. Pol is pretty much there.  Hardly wanting to keep moving, he only barely keeps pace with the kiddo and Michael, as they lay eyes on an entrance to the building. He pushes against the door- well, leans on it, and tries to nudge it open a fair bit more as he moves inwards. And as if on queue with his “giving a hot damn” levels reaching an all time low for the day, the doors shut behind the group with a certain cretin’s cheeky grin slathered all over it.

Sure as shit, a growing shadow is upon the door, opening it’s ugly mug. Her domain? Puh-lease, the only reason it’s not his right now is because he doesn’t have the mind to try and smack her down. "Have you seen a little green buneary? Or, maybe a green lopunny, probably around yea tall, with a twitchy nose and great big blue eyes?"

…That’s the question? Maybe the thing is just a little to crazy to get a bead on, but he can’t discern if it’s an old ally, or someone she’s seeking to do less than desirable things to. None the less… his voice is gruff, and very much done with this shit. ”Are you really, REALLY daft, or just so desperate to seem intimidating that this is what you stoop to? No, I, for one, haven’t seen such an oddly colored buneary in all my travels. I hope that answers your question that could have been answered at any point in time, likely with notably less irritation in our replies.” He wasn’t in a right mind to think of his words’ impact anymore- hell, he figures the freaky lady will enjoy the sass anyways. ”Now if you’ll excuse us, or god forbid GUIDE us, we’ll find a place to rest so we can keep an eye out for… whoever it is, in days to come.” He turns his back to Beyonce, keeping mind to not ignore her existence outright… never know what she might pull next.

He looks towards the others, letting out an elongated sigh. "Let's go find a place to stay in here. I'm sick of this fucking forest."

”A-fucking-men.”

(Cev my dude, your post is always awesome- you do great :>)

Wildheart stares in awe as the imposing shadow of what must be the 'mansion' come into view. He's seen a few human structures in his time, but this one took the cake. How many humans would this nest have held in its hay day to warrant being this huge? Despite the obvious wear-and-tear of the end of the world the walls looked otherwise sturdy. Of course, their only other options were the trees. So as long as this place wasn't due to collapse on their heads it's their best bet.

The others pass through the threshold cautiously, but nothing greets them on the other side. At least nothing -undead- does. As he moves to step through the doorway himself Wildheart hesitates. Human structures were always so unnatural...his hooves click against the hard floor. Truthfully it's his first time in an intact human structure. Already on edge, when he hears the ghost-type sneak their way in and cast their creepy red glow on the room the static on his mane shocks the hairs up like a mohawk. "So, now that I have allowed you in my domain, I require you to answer a question: Have you seen a little green buneary? Or, maybe a green lopunny, probably around yea tall, with a twitchy nose and great big blue eyes?"

"Green? I'd remember seeing one that color. You miss a lot though when you're running for your life through the forest."

”Now if you’ll excuse us, or god forbid GUIDE us, we’ll find a place to rest so we can keep an eye out for… whoever it is, in days to come.” The lucario hisses in reply, echoing what they all must be thinking. Wildheart nods in agreement, taking more tentative steps forward to try and peek about their dark surroundings.

Twilight then proceeded to laugh her ass off at Polarneff's bitchy reply, and her cackling echoed through the empty hall. "Oh, Oh my God. Oh my Gooooooooood. Man you got a stick up your ass. If it weren't the god damn apocalypse I'd probably spend all day fucking around with you. But looks like I won't even have to try, hooooowee." She laughed again and mimed wiping away a tear even though as a shadow, she had no tear ducts. She slipped away from the door and ducked into the greater shadow of the stairway. Yes, these were all such salty bitches that she'd have enough negative emotions to feed off of for a long time. No one here was useful for anything more than that, they knew nothing, and the only one there that would even be able to challenge her in a fight was on death's door. She dropped the cheerful facade as soon as she was out of sight, and glared at the living pokemon with bitter contempt. She didn't have anything personal against them, she just supposed that she might as well have somewhere to direct her spite. However, she quickly lost interest in this and idly traveled around the room. Strange, how suddenly she might feel such passionate emotions, but as quickly they came they vanished. It was like a leaf fluttering in the wind, one moment it's smacking you in the face and the next, gently settling on a rippling pond.

She knew no such peace. The longer she was doing nothing, the more her bitterness for the past grew, almost surpassing her melancholy. A distraction was in order. "On your left, you're going to have a bunch of human bedrooms, with old mattresses and stuff that are pretty comfy. Also dressers full of human clothes which make good blankets. On your right, you'll get to a place with a desk and books and shit. There are some rotting corpses in the garden. They don't move, much."

Honestly speaking, Michael can't stop himself from feeling a little impressed by Polnareff's response-it's a lot for someone who might faint at any moment. That's probably be why he said it at all, though, serious injuries tend to override politeness. Still-kudos to him.

"Green? I'd remember seeing one that color. You miss a lot though when you're running for your life through the forest."

”Now if you’ll excuse us, or god forbid GUIDE us, we’ll find a place to rest so we can keep an eye out for… whoever it is, in days to come.”

Beyonce, on the other hand, finds all of this to be hilarious-and this place better not have any undead in it, because there's no way in hell her chortling won't be heard by every other creature in the entire fucking forest. "Oh, Oh my God. Oh my Gooooooooood. Man you got a stick up your ass. If it weren't the god damn apocalypse I'd probably spend all day fucking around with you-"

Michael hardly notices that he's stopped hearing anything she says, his exhausted, flighty mind losing focus quickly. He blinks, and suddenly the lack of the newest Pokemon's voice registers-oh, right, he and the others are looking for somewhere in this place to settle down for the night. It's too dark to properly make out most of what's inside, but he's still not picking up the telltale scent that would immediately give away undead. Again, that doesn't guarantee it's safe, but...well, like he's been thinking this entire damn time, better to take a risk in here than to attempt to stay outside.

Michael's walks past some sort of overturned object-unfortunately, what little light manages to get inside the mansion isn't enough to illuminate most of their surroundings. He really wishes they had some sort of other light source, rather than relying on moonlight. Not that he'd be helpful in that regard, unless he feels like burning down their only shelter. So, that left carefully exploring this place-

"On your left, you're going to have a bunch of human bedrooms, with old mattresses and stuff that are pretty comfy."

Connor thought the stranger had disappeared, but when she spoke again, he was almost glued to Pol's side. The Lucario may be hurt, but he's still stronger than Connor is-still a safe Pokemon to be around.  Before, Michael was his refuge-but he went into the mansion first, and well...Connor didn't want to do that. There's no light in here, and that makes his fur fluff up. They even have someone around who can slip into shadows...she can be anywhere, and Connor wouldn't even know.

"Also dressers full of human clothes which make good blankets. On your right, you'll get to a place with a desk and books and shit. There are some rotting corpses in the garden. They don't move, much."

M-much? Didn't that mean they move sometimes? Are they moving now? What if they find a place to sleep, only for the bodies out in the 'garden' to get up and find where they are-

"The garden sounds very charming, but I'll pass. The rooms on the left will work just fine." Connor's eyes go wide. Michael didn't sound concerned at all-did he even hear what the stranger said? They could be in danger! And who knew what else could be around here? Connor's stomach is all twisted thinking of the things that could lurk in the darkness, but he can't say anything. The last thing he wants is to draw attention in such a dark, unknown place.

(ooc: Thanks, R'hia c: Feel free to go into the bedrooms in your posts-there's nothing dangerous in the mansion.)

The ghost only continues to cackle at their expense as they enter the dark mansion. The forest had been hard enough to navigate, but now with only the windows to let in the moon's light it seemed impossible. Wildheart feels forward carefully with one hoof to keep from smacking into hidden objects. His foot clinks against a number of unfamiliar box-like objects before he's able to find a pathway that's relatively clear. "On your left, you're going to have a bunch of human bedrooms, with old mattresses and stuff that are pretty comfy. Also dressers full of human clothes which make good blankets. On your right, you'll get to a place with a desk and books and shit. There are some rotting corpses in the garden. They don't move, much." Much? "They're outside and we're inside. It should be safe enough for the night."

"The garden sounds very charming, but I'll pass. The rooms on the left will work just fine." Taking that as a cue that the conversation was over for now, the zebra enters the closest open room to the left. One large window allows enough light in to see the outline of something large, flat and rectangular in the center of the room. It was large enough to easily fit a few of them. What humans got big enough that they needed a nest this large? Was it a room for a whole family? Moving cautiously around the room, Wildheart gives several other odd human objects a sniff. Nothing but the smell of dust. No one has been here in a while, human or otherwise... "I can stand guard tonight." He offers, looking back to the injured group. "I don't sleep much anyway."

For a second, Twilight took delight in terrorizing the poor little Eevee, this said enjoyment she immediately realized was perverse. God, what am I doing? Having fun scaring little kids now? What the fuck is wrong with me? She may have been terrible, but she had to have standards damn it. She knows what's wrong, she's been spending too much time alone. It wasn't bitterness she was worried about, no, it was far too late for that, it was her sense of self. She is Twilight, she acts in a certain way, and thinks a certain way. Scaring children is not on the list. If I change too much, he'll never remember me. She resolved to not let that happen, and so turned her attention away from the normal type, and drifted along after the electric zebra.

"Good, you can keep me company. I haven't slept in three weeks, no, more, but who am I to tell you that, anyways." She floated back into the hall, and spoke where everyone in the group could hear her. "Yes, 'bout those lawn ornaments of mine! They're old and useless. The muscles to pull their limbs rotted away, the ones that didn't I sliced up. All they can do is try to wiggle and try to bite you without havin' lower jaws. I like to poke them with sticks sometimes and laugh at how much they despise their very existence." She cackled cruelly at the thought of it.