Post by Wrath on Mar 2, 2009 16:09:18 GMT -5
You wait patiently in the designated meeting spot, tapping your pen against the clipboard resting on your knees. As usual, you're here for an interview. As a noble collector of insightful information. Arceus be with me, you think seriously. A mute mental murmur of m...gratefulness and respect. Taking a moment to appreciate your own alliteration, you toss the pen into the air and catch it when it comes back down. You think back to this morning, coming to work in the prestigious studios of Sudowood, where you received your equally prestigious assignment. A request straight from the geniuses at Flying Without Wings. The boss had been all "EEMPURTENT MEESHUN EES SRS BSNS, INTERVIEWER. SRSLY. DUN SKREW UP PLZKTHXBAI" and had shoved you right back out the door. Your coworkers had looked at you gravely, remarking that this would be this subject's second interview. Apparently the first had been made up of ttl crap writing hence the rewrite gone horribly wrong. "At least it's not that kid who punches penisi in da fayce" groaned one of your fellow interviewers, shifting his legs painfully. "Or a particular humanoid infected with a disease often referred to as 'Prissitus'" another told stiffly, his back stright and FLAT like a board. "OR A MOTHAFUCKIN' DRAGON!" shrieked the third, holding up his hand with the missing pinky, a crazed look in his eye. None of them had ever been the same since their FWW interviews. Omai. How disconcerting. You mutter a mere mention to Mew, smiling at the alliteration that makes no sense but Wrath doesn't really give a shit let her have her fucky fun once more. Your coworkers had told you you'll simply know your subject when he walks in, and they looked rather grave as they said it, now that you think about it. You wonder why. Is he a mysterious murderer surgeon? Or a Norse God in disguise? You shrug, setting aside crackish wayward thoughts with a shake of your head. As if on cue, a boy walks in.
He's looking at nothing, and there's a generally bored, displeased look on his face. Observing his present expression, the words "YAH WHUT-FUCKIN'-EVUH" pop into your mind. Resisting the urge to pray to Articuno, you smile and give a little wave in greeting. False move number one. The already present sense of foreboding triples when he suddenly sees you, and he rolls his eyes in obvious irritation. He does not return the smile, or the wave. You can practically hear the suspenseful background music. The previously bored expression grows dark and quite confrontational as he moves toward you with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. At last, he sits down across from you, leaning right back into his chair.
Let's go, I don't have all Darkraidamn day.
Why, this whippersnapper was cursing! What in Cresselia's name was he thinking, being so disrespectful with the names of the Gods? Ohh this was so not preferable. You frown at him, but if anything, his face lightens, as if he prefers that gesture to the smile. The boy looked quite frightening you realize now that yourattention had been captured by his thick eyebrows that could sektitly strangle you in their thick purple depths eyes had had a chance to properly process his person. OMG alliteration, score. However you have no time for random thoughts! Your interview subject is here, and you want to get it done before you get emotionally scarred for life! And so, you begin with your noble, prestigious first question.
He seems to have thought of something rather pleasant to his twisted mind, as his smirk widens, leaving him looking even more sadistic. It's obvious he's not much of a nickname person, like at all, so you write "None" on your paper and move on to the next question.[/ul]
I'm a guy you fucking idiot. Are you trying to make fun of me?! You shake your head as he raises his voice, explaining hastily that this is simply the question layout you were given, but he simply snarls in response. You're going to do horrible things to your chatspeak-addicted boss for creating this question format if you survive this. Darkraidammit. You're lucky Reggie told me to go along with this Taurosshit or you'd be bleeding and half dead on the floor by now. You swallow nervously, very certain that is not an empty threat. Oh, Reggie. My blood and half my life thank you dearly. You watch as Paul turns to glare to the side. He takes a few deep breaths perhaps meant to be calming, but really they only make him sound like a Tauros about to go on a rampage. Anger-management dropout, this one. However, after a few moments he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms once more. He looks back at you suspiciously, evidently still believing you were mocking him, but he waits quietly for you to continue.[/ul][/color]
He seems to have thought of something pleasant because he smirks wide, but at the same time his eyes flash with resentment. This expression vanishes when he suddenly frowns thoughtfully, displaying an emotion akin to frustration, but significantly weaker than before. If you're not mistaken, Paul looks almost hopeful, though it's decidedly closer to an aggressive determination. What in Mesprit's name is making him act sobiPAULar bipolar? And so Reggie'll see me pass through Sinnoh at my strongest. Maybe he'll finally drop the damn apron and find the balls to start battling again. Shit, he has to...Damn it, Reggie. Why'd you give up...? He clenches a fist, though for once it isn't a threat towards you, and you start to wonder who or what exactly he's thinking of that succeeded in softening his expression even slightly from anger into sadness. However, you figure he isn't going to tell you anyway unless a punch counts as a response, so you stay quiet until asking the next question.[/ul][/color]
[/ul][/color]
Are you blind? Or just stupid? He suddenly smirks and gives a scoff, but his aggravation is still obvious, and he remains standing. You're obviously mistaking muscle for fat. You don't spend half your fucking life fighting and end up a fat bitch, dumbass. Fighting? Obviously you're not a Pokemon battler yourself, else you would be doing that instead of working like a Combee every day and fearing for your life in this moment. Do the kids really call it 'fighting' nowadays? You disregard this line of thought for now, instead choosing to look over Paul. Indeed, he has a stocky build, but even with the black and blue windbreaker he's wearing, it's easy to see that he's quite muscular. As you watch, he unclenches his fists and crosses his arms. This gesture makes it even more obvious how defensive his usual posture is. His shoulders are constantly tensed, as if he were always expecting some form of attack. The results of battling, perhaps? He does look like the kind to react quickly, which is surely a necessary trait when battling Pokemon. That said, he isn't twitchy or nervous. His motions are sure and haughty, and you've seen him go from defensive and watchful immediately to about-to-punch-you-in-the-motherfucking-face and angry. Still wanna ask me if I think I need a diet? You swiftly shake your head at his warning tone, then explain that the question is requesting he describe his physical appearance. He stares at you as if you've just said the stupidest thing he's ever heard. I'm right in front of you. You can see me. Do your damn job, you lazy runt. Oh, Ho-oh. Haven't I been pious? Whryyyyy am I suffering this? You shut your eyes for a moment in misery and-- How can you describe me if you can't even see me? Open your eyes and get it done. I'm tired of this shit. Finally something we agree on, Paul. I'm tired of this too. You open your eyes, your already present frown deepening. He's still standing, thus making it easier to describe his clothes. Baggy grey cargo pants. A teal t-shirt is visible under his previously mentioned jacket. His running shoes are the same shade of blue as his jacket. Oh, and the collar of his jacket is popped. Delightful.
Okay, so you're being lazy. But you're depressed. D':
You clench a fist in determination, your lips pursing. You're not going to let one foul-mouthed, threatening non-believer bring you down, are you? What would Reggie think? Thinking of the mysterious older brother of Paul, and acknowledging the saintly patience he must possess to have dealt with Paul for his whole life, you gather your courage in his name. Throughout your display of UNTOPPABLE STRENGTH Paul is giving you this stare that defies words so you just draw a little face on your page.
ಠ_ಠ
Look at that stare. That's how he's looking at you. You shudder slightly, continuing your description.
You've never seen him smile. The closest thing you've seen is a dark smirk and the harsh set to his face makes it obvious this isn't an act he's putting on just for you. Even when he isn't frowning purposefully, his black eyes are beady and cold, and topped by thick purple eyebrows that somehow make his already impressive glares that much more intense. His hair is purple, straight, and ends mid-neck. His skin is bronze and oh look he's picking up his chair and sitting back down, oh good. He looks much more frightening and intimidating when he's staring down at you. You wouldn't want to get on his bad side. In fact, he looks as if he's used to dealing with those who get on his nerves. You frown, narrowing your eyes in focus. You've been threatened by Paul multiple times, and you get the sense that he really isn't kidding around, and he is very willing to hurt you. Is that aggression another result of battling Pokemon or has he been in real fights himself--? Ohhh he's opening his mouth. Next question before he swears and makes you doubt yourself again.[/ul][/color]
like a priss I know and I do what I want. I don't let rules or other people and their opinions tie me down. I'm impatient towards taurosshit things that waste my time, and it pisses me off when I'm forced to do something I don't want to.
I'm strong, and I don't need anyone to tell me that and convince me, and I don't need others there to hold me up so I feel that way. I'm independant and perfectly comfortable being alone. Hell, I feel better when I'm alone. It helps me concentrate on training my Pokemon. Apparently, he doesn't see his Pokemon as company. He values strength, quite obviously, and thus it seems to you he sees his Pokemon only as mindless creatures there to be strong and look good. I don't get attached to people or Pokemon. If there's some idiot slowing me down with his blather, I tell him to fuck off. If my Pokemon are unsatisfactory, I tell them the same, and release them. Ah, so Paul sees his Pokemon not only as mindless, but he has no problem getting rid of them if they don't match up with his demands for power. You make a mental note to give to the abandoned Pokemon charity when you get home. I'm determined, and I won't let anything stand between me and what I want. I'll even deal with an annoying situation if it'll further my goals. I'm not going to whine like a little bitch and give in because something doesn't go entirely my way. He suddenly smirks But I'll sure as fuck make sure people know it when I don't like something. Oh, and people who smile too much, and tell me to smile, can go to hell. Except for Reggie.[/i] You blink, quite surprised. For once, he's actually given you a really good answer, and one that fills up your page with actual interviewee quotes instead of you just scribbling notes. However, there's a lot you feel he left out, and you see this just from observing him. It's like he's just describing part of him, the mask that he's formed over his real self. The part that he's allowing the world to see. However, it's less a mask and more a sewn on part of his personality. A mask implies he's acting false, however, there's no way Paul's attitude is an act. He's a legitimately angry person, and you get the feeling that other people made him this way somehow. He doesn't trust people because in the past, they must have done something to earn his doubt. Nowadays, he seems to enjoy bringing others down to see things his way. And if you weren't protected by your faith toward the gods, you suspect you may have fallen for his insults and goading.
His family doesn't seem to matter much to him, save for his brother Reggie, who actually inspired him to speak without resentment at the beginning of the interview. Paul hasn't mentioned anyone else who he cares about, however. You believe he's lonely, even if he doesn't realize it. That said, he's proud, and in no way is he depressed. He has a goal and he's singlemindedly going after it. His anger is helping him with this, in his mind. He's accomplished much already towards that goal, but his lust for more is evident. And, you can't help but think, perhaps unquenchable. Either way, you're done with this question. You hastily write what you have, earning you a suspicious stare from Paul, before you move on.
[/ul][/color]
[/ul][/color]
+Winning: It's better than losing. Obviously.
+Power: Those who have itturn me on are worthy of respect. But only if they can prove to me they have it.
+Dominance:Because I top everyone. Especially Dae. You have dominance, you have power and control.
+Training: Pokemon are weak and lazy unless they have a strict training regiment to follow.
+Being left the fuck alone:... He simply glares
Pointedly at you. Lugia preserve me.
+Battling: How else do you show everyone your strength?
+Fistfights: Heh. Oh yeah. Like this. He smirks, uncrossing his arms to crack his knuckles. Watching him, you spot the pale, jagged scars on each of his knuckles. The kind one only gets from experience with beating faces in. Oh, sweet Shaymin. He isn't kidding. You think back to his answer to the "Do you think I need a diet?" question, and realize that he wasn't talking about battling after all. He literally meant fighting physically between humans, not Pokemon. Omai omai.
+Orange Soda:...I like the taste. You got a fucking problem? Dear Dialga, he really is human. You blink in surprise at this statement but then hastily shake your head in a "ohnoes no problem with that at all" way. At this point he leans back, looking like he's done with this question. You tilt your head pointedly, quietly mentioning his brother's name. He scoffs.
And why the hell would I mention him? Ask your damn questions and stay the fuck outta my business, you nosy bitch. How painfully contradictory. Azelf, give me your willpower so I don't say or do something I may regret. And end up "half dead and bleeding on the floor". You're about to continue asking your questions, but you see Paul's not looking at you. He's staring a bit to the side, looking generally frustrated as usual, but also thoughtful and distracted. You wonder what he's thinking of, deciding to wait until he wakes up to ask your next question. Of course Reggie's on the fucking list, dumbass. But I'm not going to tell you that.
He's my brother. He raised me, taught me everything I know, and he's the only one who cares about me, and that I give a shit about. He's the reason I kept going when I just wanted to watch everyone and everything die. I looked up to him. But he fucking gave up! Just because he lost to dad! Fuck! The fuck's wrong with him?! He wouldn't throw in the towel just because of that![/i]
The fuck're you waiting for?! Ask your motherfucking questions! You blink in shock, leaning back as far as possible at the sudden ferocious rage in his eyes. You wonder what he was thinking about that inspired him to look so suddenly furious, moreso than you've seen so far. But you're also extremely frightened by his expression, and so you swiftly heed him, tightly clutching the clipboard in both hands as you pray Groudon creates a sudden earthquake so you have an excuse to get out of there.
[/ul]
+Fuckers who get on my nerves: They can all go to hell. I make sure that anyone who pisses me off never wants to do it again. Hmph.
+Weak trainers and Pokemon: Nothing but wastes of space and time. Despicable. They should all just go kill themselves so I won't have to deal with them slowing me down with their excuses for battles.
+Happy-Go-Lucky Assholes: They don't seem to realize how much the world sucks and why smiling is a fucking waste of energy. All it does it make you look like a weak little tool.
+Darkraidamn Contests: They're despicable and they do nothing but waste time. Any who willingly take part in them should admit to the world they only do them because they can't battle for their lives. Hmph.
+Assholes who try to pick on me: They piss the fuck outta me, but it just feels so good to smash their faces into the concrete. I have them to thank for my scars. He runs a finger along his knuckles, smirking as he clenches his fists until his knuckles crack. His pride in his wounds of battle is overwhelmingly obvious.
+Pokemon Breeding: It's fucking taurosshit. I don't know how Reggie does it all damn day. But I do know if he guilts me into helping him again, I'm throwing that Kangaskhan off a damn building.
[/ul][/color]
I'm scared of fading away. Or dying while still in Dad's fucking shadow. That's why I have to prove myself, and do it quick. I don't have time to waste. Getting Pokemon's trust and their love is pointless. I was treated cruelly by almost everyone around me, and I'm stronger than I ever could have been if I was babied and kept sheltered.
...And I'm scared Reggie will finally see that I'm a hopeless, cruel monster and stop caring about me. [/i] Something tells you that Paul's actually thinking the answer to the question, as he looks bitter and hateful, but if anything, it's turned toward himself. His upper lip is curled slightly over his teeth and he clenches one of his scarred fists, turning away from you. Maybe it's how loving and pious you are, but you feel a wave of pity for him. He's human too. He has fears and concerns. And despite the anger still on his face, he looks...broken. Like he knows there's a lot wrong with him, but he doesn't know how to put himself back together. And then he looks back at you, and you suddenly realize he doesn't want to put himself back together. The fuck're you staring at?! You have any more damn questions?! The disdainful mask is back. You continue, but, already very used to his angry antics and swearing, you stare at him for a moment longer with a calm, understanding look on your face before continuing at last.[/ul][/color]
motherfucking flying pyramid. You stare. He was born on a motherfucking flying pyramid? Well, that's new. However, Paul doesn't really look proud of this at all. If anything, he looks...well, angry. However, you're getting quite good at judging when Paul is simply being his usual grumpy self and when something has angered him more than normal. And at his next words, you're tempted to press a hand to his forehead, just to see if he's giving off obscene amounts of heat. My dad didn't want to land for a few weeks so I could be born. Same with Reggie. But because he's a motherfucking selfish asshole, there were complications during my birth. My mom died a few months later. You frown in sympathy, unable to help it. Sure, Paul's voice is completely level, his eyes half-lidded, and his expression its usual scowl, but he has to feel some kind of sadness, right? Don't give me that look. I don't need your damn pity. I didn't even know her. Reggie's the one who did. Wrong. How can he be so callous? He doesn't seem to be acting at all...You compose your expression, very easily since you're irritated once more, and ask Paul to continue. Dad shipped me and Reggie off to Veilstone City to live with our Aunt and Uncle. I grew up there, went to school there, and lived there until I left for my Pokemon journey when I was thirteen. I started in Johto, traveled through it, collected all the badges, then traveled through Hoenn and got the badges from that region. Now I'm planning to go to Kanto. When he says this, it's obvious he's done talking. He leans back and waits, staring you down. You give him a surprised look, then sigh. You tell him that unless he gives something a little more useful, you're just going to need to come back and bother him again. You explain you need more insight, and that he's going to have to drop his guard a little and let you in. He looks furious. And not only that, but he's suddenly thinking. Weighing both of his options for pros and cons, you guess. Finally, he gives a grudging snarl. Darkraimotherfuckingdammit. Alright. Hmph. You smile in relief, and decide to ask some more in-depth questions so Paul responds adequately this time. You ask him how school was for him. His eyes narrow in suspicion but he slowly, cautiously, and with a rather threatening voice, answers. It was full of weaklings and idiots. School was a waste of my time. The only time I ever learned anything I could actually use was at home with Reggie. Hmph. The only thing I really learned at school was not to trust people, and that the only way to get your point across is to beat it into someone's face.
You blink in alarm. Well, he really learned the whole violence thing young, you see. He doesn't seem to want to explain any further, however.
Those fuckers. They picked on me. They made my life hell! All it took was one fucking...Within the first few days at school they decided I was a good target. The teacher asked me a question. It was so simple. "What type is Starly?" I knew. But I hadn't been expecting it and...I stuttered and said "Fire" instead of "Flying". That one fucking question changed my life. But it made me stronger. I made it through school, and I showed them all what real strength is. I'm glad I never told Reggie. There was no point in making him suffer with me.[/i]
Reggie got his first Pokemon when he was ten, but I was only seven so he waited before leaving on his Pokemon journey to take care of me. The Aunt and Uncle were never as good as him in anything when it came to me. Heh. Did Paul just...chuckle? However weak it was, that was a chuckle. You're honestly astounded. Studying Paul closely, you can't see a difference with his expression. Still as displeased and cold as usual. But his voice can't say the same. It's so odd to hear Paul speaking without any sort of boredom and disdain, and whenever Reggie is his topic, even though you can't go far enough to say he sounds happy, his voice isn't filled with anything negative. As if in preparation for what he's planning to say next, Paul gives quite an unhappy frown. Three years later Reggie started his journey. The frown becomes a dark, humourless smirk, but Paul gives you no words to explain why. You tilt your head in curiosity. And there was no one to hold me back anymore. Before, I made sure to always run away when those bullies came after me. I didn't want to be hurt, because I knew Reggie would ask how it had happened. But when he left, I didn't have a reason to run anymore. I was angry and I wanted vengeance. Almost right after, I got my scars. Heh. And my reputation for being a fighter only idiots dared to mess with. Hmph. I always knew my school was full of idiots, but that just proved it. [/i]
I still saw Reggie. He would call at least once every couple of weeks. [/ul][/color]
Not again. Of all days to call. Reggie sure had a great sense of timing. Bad timing, that is. Paul gave a low groan of irritation, lifting his head from the armrest he had set it on in response to his Aunt's voice calling him.
"Paul! Your brother's on the phone! He wants to talk to you," she called from the other room.
One of Paul's hands slowly lifted to his face, and he pressed it against his lip, only to cringe as it stung painfully.
"Tell him I'm not home," A low, callous voice replied. A voice that didn't betray the regret Paul felt the moment he said those words.
His aunt was silent. He heard her speak up a lot quieter, this time most likely addressing his brother over the phone.
"Paul, please. Reggie wants to tell you about his latest gym battle," his Aunt asked again, this time practically pleading. Reggie must have looked upset.
Damn. Paul stood up with another groan, shoving bandaged hands gingerly into his pockets as he slouched into the phone room. His Aunt gave him a thankful but half-hearted smile before leaving. She wasn't dealing well with having a nephew that got into fights every other week at age 12. Cringing softly at his sore limbs, Paul couldn't help but think that she had nothing to complain about. He paused only a moment to ready himself before he stood in front of the screen that held his brother's face.
His older brother's ever-present smile faltered into a confused, concerned frown when his face appeared in the teleconference screen. But a frown could never control Reggie's face for long and after a moment it became a cheery sweet-as-sugar smile. The kind of smile that Paul liked to punch off people's faces, but yet he never minded when Reggie looked like that.
But Paul couldn't blame him for looking like that. He knew he looked...well, he looked beat up. The fight had been the day prior, so his black eye was strikingly obvious, and the red blotch on his lip was practically glowing and screaming for attention. Oh, and it turned out combing your hair was hard with split knuckles. Either way, Reggie's greeting was warm as always, despite his appearance.
"Hey, Paul! You look awful. What happened?" Curse teleconference screens. Why can't it just be a regular call, so he didn't have to show his face?
Paul shut his eyes, trying to look bored. It was hard to lie to his brother when he could see his face.
"Training. It's nothing," he explained quietly. Good thing he was old enough to have his own Pokemon now. It was a perfect excuse. Though if anyone asked how exactly Paul managed to get a black eye and a busted lip training a loyal little Turtwig, he wouldn't have been able to say.
With that statement, he opened his eyes to observe his brother's reaction. Reggie just stared at him with those dark eyes. Eyes exactly like his, only while his own were cold, Reggie's were incredibly warm. It was hard to tell whether Reggie believed him, or just didn't want to press him. Either way, Paul felt a fleeting sense of guilt. Fehh, it was a white lie. Why the hell would be want to worry his brother when he was on his journey in Kanto?
"Alright. Just be careful next time, Paul. You'll have to tell me about your training, but first I have news," It didn't seem possible, but Reggie's smile grew. It was obvious he was excited.
He held up a sparkling blue gem so Paul could see, and the sight of the Cascadebadge brought a grin to the younger sibling's face.
"So you beat Misty. How'd it go?" Paul was impressed. Proud of his older brother. But it sure didn't show in his low tone. It was no matter, he was sure Reggie knew he was glad.
And at Paul's question, Reggie's smile became a proud grin, and his thick eyebrows came down onto his eyes, giving him a fierce, fiery look.
"It was easy with Torterra! She didn't stand a chance. I used the water from the pool to fuel his Frenzy Plant. They won't be able to take any challenges for a while with the damage that did to the gym." Reggie exclaimed with obvious pride and exhilaration, though with a slightly sheepish note at the last statement.
Paul's grin was widening, and he didn't even realize it. He couldn't help it, when he saw Reggie like this. His older brother was his best friend and idol, and when he showed such effortless strength and command it was awe-inspiring.
"I wish I could have seen it," Paul told. His voice was somewhat louder than it had been earlier, and it was easier to detect the note of sincerity it held.
Reggie winked. "You missed my battle with Misty, but Lt. Surge is next. And Aunt Judy agreed to let you come visit again!"
Paul blinked in pleasant surprise, then his face softened into a smile. It hurt his lip to stretch the skin but he didn't care. Because he would be seeing his brother again, he'd be able to watch his battle, and he'd be able to get away from his godsforsaken town for a couple of weeks. His fists clenching in his pockets at the sudden surge of energy, Paul responded enthusiastically.
"I can't wait!"
I went to visit him sometimes when he was in another region. I learned a lot from him. So even though I started my journey three years later than most kids, I wasn't at all behind. But just as I was going to start my own journey, Reggie ended his. He snarls in confusion and slams a fist against one of his thighs. Darkraidammit. I went to watch his battle with dad. I was excited. I wanted to see Dad fall to Reggie but...Instead Reggie lost. That wasn't a big deal. I knew he would try again. But he didn't. He just...gave up! Stopped battling! To become a breeder!
For fuck's sake I have no idea why...I blame Dad. And I blame Reggie. Ever since then I've been trying to get him to start battling again. I went through the regions, I gave my most battle-crazed Pokemon to Reggie so he can raise them while my team is full in the hopes he'd get inspired again or something. And I'm not done trying.
Your eyes widen in surprise at the passionate determination on his face. Darkraidarnit. He really opened up. You have a sudden feeling that every time Paul was lost in thought during the interview he was thinking about Reggie, and his 'plan' to get him back into battling. You really can't help but smile. He really does care about his brother. Enough that he wants him to battle again, even if he doesn't openly show it much. You really can't help it when a warm little "D'awwwww~" comes out of your mouth. Paul looks up at you, and you think you detect a vague blush on his bronzed cheeks. However, it's the murderous look in his black eyes that catches most of your attention. Paul's back. Fuck off.
[/ul][/color]
Wrath: Whoahey! It's Wrath~ 8xD Who else could be pulling this meanie-face's strings?
Hmmph. Fuck you. It's your turn, so I'm out of here. And don't fuck up and make me go through another taurosshit interview, got it?
Wrath: Fssssssh whutevuh, Paul. Congrats, Interviewer! You survived without receiving emotional scarslike those other peeps who interviewed Ozzy and Bugsy did. <3[/s]
[/color] With that, Wrath offers you a paper airplane. You take it and she leaves the room with a salute, following after Paul who left shortly after saying he would. You look down and unfold the paper airplane to find the writing sample. Oh, thank Celebi you survived. [/ul]
A particularly nasty scowl twisted his face into an expression of pure hatred and resentment, an exterior suggestion of his interior battle.
A part of Paul knew that he needed to borrow his brother's Pokemon if he wanted to travel all the way to the Kanto region in any reasonable length of time--REGGIE HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THIS HE HAD TRAINED THAT STARAPTOR FROM A STARAVIA ALMOST ALL ON HIS OWN--while the other part of him was trying to smash through the logic and make Paul start dropping bodies. He was feeling quite sympathetic to the currently repressed half.
Paul was in his usual laid-back position, his shoulders hunched slightly and his hands shoved into his pockets as he stood with Reggie's Staraptor, waiting for them to announce the winner of the contest.
They were being ridiculously slow.Dae would’ve been disappointed. It was painful. To be standing here in the finals observed by a motionless, eager crowd along with a handful of losers in fucking costumes plus their prissy little pets. But naturally, he stood out. Mostly because, standing beside these assholes with their rainbow suits and their frilly dresses, he was dressed like a fucking normal person. Despite Reggie trying to push that…outfit…on him, he had vehemently refused. And threatened to go on a violent rampage if he were forced to put it on. A little like a child holding their breath to get their way, only a bit more painful to anyone nearby. Either way, he was here decked out in his usual loose-fitting grey cargo pants, a sliver of his teal t-shirt visible beneath his black and blue windbreaker. Beady black eyes opened and looked past his purple fringe at the judge’s table, where a squinty-eyed man was standing and gesticulating wildly with his hands, proclaiming this as remarkable and that as remarkable.
Oh, Darkrai these people were out of their minds. A roll of his dark irises, and he was thinking back to the start of the contest.
It was appeal time. Get your bitches groomed and dressed.
[/color] Like fuck I’m dressing Staraptor up.
“Remarkable! The lack of any dressing or use of Seals is edgy and daring! We’ll see you and Staraptor in the next round!”
A groan of disgust and a facepalm of whythefuckisthishappeningtome later and it was time for contest battles. That memory inspired a dark smirk in present-day Paul. The boy felt a soft nudge on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see Staraptor pointing with his wing at a Kadabra being dragged out of the contest hall on a stretcher. It nodded its head and gave an uneven chirp that resembled a laugh at the sight. Paul’s eyes narrowed and his smirk widened.
“Hmph. That’s what he gets for wasting his time trying to look good instead of focusing on the battle,” Paul commented in his usual low, smug voice, chuckling. He saw the Pokemon’s trainer walking beside the stretcher, fretting over his weak little Psychic type. As Paul watched he pushed up his glasses and glared at him with puffy red eyes. Paul shut his eyes and turned his face away in amused disdain.
Obviously he hadn't been listening to the taurosshit chatter the judges had been giving before the battles had begun, and had therefore missed the instructions. Apparently he was supposed to have battled that Kadabra with Staraptor in a pretty way, but he hadn't known that. Staraptor had destroyed the Psychic-type in the most violent, destructive, and apparently unattractive way possible, as per Paul's commands.
The judges had stared in shock, and the massive contest hall had been silent save for the Kadabra's trainer, screaming in horror.
He hadn't scored very high, but he had won the battle.
"In third place, we have Timmy and Dusclops! Remarkable!" A judge cried overdramatically, and the contest hall gave a weak bout of applause for the boy as he smiled at his Pokemon, and stepped up onto the lowest platform of the podium.
Paul rolled his eyes, bringing his thick purple eyebrows further down onto his eyes. Couldn't these bastards hurry up? He had to admit, however, he was surprised at the fact he hadn't ended up third. The only ones left standing before the judges were himself and a curly-haired male who smelled as if he had bathed in cologne. Wrinkling his nose, Paul continued to stare at the judges, as they gave a dramatic, suspenseful pause. Only Paul seemed unaffected by the tension. He yawned pointedly.
"Give a big hand to our runners up, Adam and Roselia! And so, congratulations to Paul and Staraptor! Come up and get your ribbon, you remarkable two!"
Paul stared, his scowl broken by an expression of shock. For a moment his eyes were wide, his mouth dropped open and he just stood there, dumbfounded. Staraptor gave a proud shriek beside him, taking off with a powerful flap of its wings and doing a victory lap before landing with a blast of wind beside the judge holding the ribbon. Paul collected himself, and his expression hardened back into a harsh glare once more. He slouched over to join Staraptor, as people finally began to clap and shout in congratulation, remaining astonished that the boy who had beat up the Kadabra had won.
He groaned softly in disgust when the ribbon was brought out of its case, a shimmery speck of orange and gold. He could feel the envious stares of Timmy and Adam, but they barely affected him. He’d been glared at by people who were actually threatening, and a couple of colourful assholes weren’t going to frighten him. Either way, he had something to say. And he wasn’t going to wait any longer.
“LET’S ALL GIVE A HAND TO THE WINNER OF TODAY’S CONTEST HERE IN VEILSTO—What’s that?”
“I said I don’t want it. The ribbon,” Paul’s disinterested, irritated voice echoed around the stadium, made louder by the microphone that the unsuspecting, smiling judge had thrust near his face. What, did he think he was about to make a speech of thanks? Heh.
“My brother made me enter this taurosshit contest against my will and I sure as fuck didn’t want to or even try to win it. Give the ribbon to the fruit with the Roselia for all I care. I don’t want the Darkraidamn thing.”
The stadium was deathly silent. Apparently these preppy freaks had never heard someone swearing through a microphone while refusing a prestigious contest ribbon. Well, in this case even the losers and the spectators would have something to tell Mommy tonight. He lifted his arm in a gesture to Staraptor, who broke the silence with a shriek before descending obediently to Paul’s side. He returned the Pokemon without a word, turned his back, clipped the Pokeball to his belt, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started to slouch off.
He felt every eye in the room on his purple head but, frankly, he didn’t give a shit. He was off to train, get ready to leave for Kanto, and bask in the fame of being that dude with the Staraptor that swore out loud in a contest shown on tv. As far as he heard, only one word was spoken behind him.
“…Remarkable.”
[/ul]
He's looking at nothing, and there's a generally bored, displeased look on his face. Observing his present expression, the words "YAH WHUT-FUCKIN'-EVUH" pop into your mind. Resisting the urge to pray to Articuno, you smile and give a little wave in greeting. False move number one. The already present sense of foreboding triples when he suddenly sees you, and he rolls his eyes in obvious irritation. He does not return the smile, or the wave. You can practically hear the suspenseful background music. The previously bored expression grows dark and quite confrontational as he moves toward you with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. At last, he sits down across from you, leaning right back into his chair.
Let's go, I don't have all Darkraidamn day.
Why, this whippersnapper was cursing! What in Cresselia's name was he thinking, being so disrespectful with the names of the Gods? Ohh this was so not preferable. You frown at him, but if anything, his face lightens, as if he prefers that gesture to the smile. The boy looked quite frightening you realize now that your
{My Parents call me...}
{My Friends call me...}
[/color]He seems to have thought of something rather pleasant to his twisted mind, as his smirk widens, leaving him looking even more sadistic. It's obvious he's not much of a nickname person, like at all, so you write "None" on your paper and move on to the next question.[/ul]
{I'm not an it! I am a...}
[/b][/center]I'm a guy you fucking idiot. Are you trying to make fun of me?! You shake your head as he raises his voice, explaining hastily that this is simply the question layout you were given, but he simply snarls in response. You're going to do horrible things to your chatspeak-addicted boss for creating this question format if you survive this. Darkraidammit. You're lucky Reggie told me to go along with this Taurosshit or you'd be bleeding and half dead on the floor by now. You swallow nervously, very certain that is not an empty threat. Oh, Reggie. My blood and half my life thank you dearly. You watch as Paul turns to glare to the side. He takes a few deep breaths perhaps meant to be calming, but really they only make him sound like a Tauros about to go on a rampage. Anger-management dropout, this one. However, after a few moments he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms once more. He looks back at you suspiciously, evidently still believing you were mocking him, but he waits quietly for you to continue.[/ul][/color]
{I am a}
[/b] [/center]He seems to have thought of something pleasant because he smirks wide, but at the same time his eyes flash with resentment. This expression vanishes when he suddenly frowns thoughtfully, displaying an emotion akin to frustration, but significantly weaker than before. If you're not mistaken, Paul looks almost hopeful, though it's decidedly closer to an aggressive determination. What in Mesprit's name is making him act so
{I don't need wrinkle cream! I'm}
[/b][/center] [/ul][/color]
{Do you think I need a diet?}
[/b] [/center]Are you blind? Or just stupid? He suddenly smirks and gives a scoff, but his aggravation is still obvious, and he remains standing. You're obviously mistaking muscle for fat. You don't spend half your fucking life fighting and end up a fat bitch, dumbass. Fighting? Obviously you're not a Pokemon battler yourself, else you would be doing that instead of working like a Combee every day and fearing for your life in this moment. Do the kids really call it 'fighting' nowadays? You disregard this line of thought for now, instead choosing to look over Paul. Indeed, he has a stocky build, but even with the black and blue windbreaker he's wearing, it's easy to see that he's quite muscular. As you watch, he unclenches his fists and crosses his arms. This gesture makes it even more obvious how defensive his usual posture is. His shoulders are constantly tensed, as if he were always expecting some form of attack. The results of battling, perhaps? He does look like the kind to react quickly, which is surely a necessary trait when battling Pokemon. That said, he isn't twitchy or nervous. His motions are sure and haughty, and you've seen him go from defensive and watchful immediately to about-to-punch-you-in-the-motherfucking-face and angry. Still wanna ask me if I think I need a diet? You swiftly shake your head at his warning tone, then explain that the question is requesting he describe his physical appearance. He stares at you as if you've just said the stupidest thing he's ever heard. I'm right in front of you. You can see me. Do your damn job, you lazy runt. Oh, Ho-oh. Haven't I been pious? Whryyyyy am I suffering this? You shut your eyes for a moment in misery and-- How can you describe me if you can't even see me? Open your eyes and get it done. I'm tired of this shit. Finally something we agree on, Paul. I'm tired of this too. You open your eyes, your already present frown deepening. He's still standing, thus making it easier to describe his clothes. Baggy grey cargo pants. A teal t-shirt is visible under his previously mentioned jacket. His running shoes are the same shade of blue as his jacket. Oh, and the collar of his jacket is popped. Delightful.
Okay, so you're being lazy. But you're depressed. D':
You clench a fist in determination, your lips pursing. You're not going to let one foul-mouthed, threatening non-believer bring you down, are you? What would Reggie think? Thinking of the mysterious older brother of Paul, and acknowledging the saintly patience he must possess to have dealt with Paul for his whole life, you gather your courage in his name. Throughout your display of UNTOPPABLE STRENGTH Paul is giving you this stare that defies words so you just draw a little face on your page.
ಠ_ಠ
Look at that stare. That's how he's looking at you. You shudder slightly, continuing your description.
You've never seen him smile. The closest thing you've seen is a dark smirk and the harsh set to his face makes it obvious this isn't an act he's putting on just for you. Even when he isn't frowning purposefully, his black eyes are beady and cold, and topped by thick purple eyebrows that somehow make his already impressive glares that much more intense. His hair is purple, straight, and ends mid-neck. His skin is bronze and oh look he's picking up his chair and sitting back down, oh good. He looks much more frightening and intimidating when he's staring down at you. You wouldn't want to get on his bad side. In fact, he looks as if he's used to dealing with those who get on his nerves. You frown, narrowing your eyes in focus. You've been threatened by Paul multiple times, and you get the sense that he really isn't kidding around, and he is very willing to hurt you. Is that aggression another result of battling Pokemon or has he been in real fights himself--? Ohhh he's opening his mouth. Next question before he swears and makes you doubt yourself again.[/ul][/color]
{My Emotional Disposition?}
[/b][/center] I'm strong, and I don't need anyone to tell me that and convince me, and I don't need others there to hold me up so I feel that way. I'm independant and perfectly comfortable being alone. Hell, I feel better when I'm alone. It helps me concentrate on training my Pokemon. Apparently, he doesn't see his Pokemon as company. He values strength, quite obviously, and thus it seems to you he sees his Pokemon only as mindless creatures there to be strong and look good. I don't get attached to people or Pokemon. If there's some idiot slowing me down with his blather, I tell him to fuck off. If my Pokemon are unsatisfactory, I tell them the same, and release them. Ah, so Paul sees his Pokemon not only as mindless, but he has no problem getting rid of them if they don't match up with his demands for power. You make a mental note to give to the abandoned Pokemon charity when you get home. I'm determined, and I won't let anything stand between me and what I want. I'll even deal with an annoying situation if it'll further my goals. I'm not going to whine like a little bitch and give in because something doesn't go entirely my way. He suddenly smirks But I'll sure as fuck make sure people know it when I don't like something. Oh, and people who smile too much, and tell me to smile, can go to hell. Except for Reggie.[/i] You blink, quite surprised. For once, he's actually given you a really good answer, and one that fills up your page with actual interviewee quotes instead of you just scribbling notes. However, there's a lot you feel he left out, and you see this just from observing him. It's like he's just describing part of him, the mask that he's formed over his real self. The part that he's allowing the world to see. However, it's less a mask and more a sewn on part of his personality. A mask implies he's acting false, however, there's no way Paul's attitude is an act. He's a legitimately angry person, and you get the feeling that other people made him this way somehow. He doesn't trust people because in the past, they must have done something to earn his doubt. Nowadays, he seems to enjoy bringing others down to see things his way. And if you weren't protected by your faith toward the gods, you suspect you may have fallen for his insults and goading.
His family doesn't seem to matter much to him, save for his brother Reggie, who actually inspired him to speak without resentment at the beginning of the interview. Paul hasn't mentioned anyone else who he cares about, however. You believe he's lonely, even if he doesn't realize it. That said, he's proud, and in no way is he depressed. He has a goal and he's singlemindedly going after it. His anger is helping him with this, in his mind. He's accomplished much already towards that goal, but his lust for more is evident. And, you can't help but think, perhaps unquenchable. Either way, you're done with this question. You hastily write what you have, earning you a suspicious stare from Paul, before you move on.
[/ul][/color]
{Things that are Groovy}
[/b] [/center][/ul][/color]
{Things that are Appealing to Paul}
[/b] [/center][/color]+Winning: It's better than losing. Obviously.
+Power: Those who have it
+Dominance:
+Training: Pokemon are weak and lazy unless they have a strict training regiment to follow.
+Being left the fuck alone:... He simply glares
Pointedly at you. Lugia preserve me.
+Battling: How else do you show everyone your strength?
+Fistfights: Heh. Oh yeah. Like this. He smirks, uncrossing his arms to crack his knuckles. Watching him, you spot the pale, jagged scars on each of his knuckles. The kind one only gets from experience with beating faces in. Oh, sweet Shaymin. He isn't kidding. You think back to his answer to the "Do you think I need a diet?" question, and realize that he wasn't talking about battling after all. He literally meant fighting physically between humans, not Pokemon. Omai omai.
+Orange Soda:...I like the taste. You got a fucking problem? Dear Dialga, he really is human. You blink in surprise at this statement but then hastily shake your head in a "ohnoes no problem with that at all" way. At this point he leans back, looking like he's done with this question. You tilt your head pointedly, quietly mentioning his brother's name. He scoffs.
And why the hell would I mention him? Ask your damn questions and stay the fuck outta my business, you nosy bitch. How painfully contradictory. Azelf, give me your willpower so I don't say or do something I may regret. And end up "half dead and bleeding on the floor". You're about to continue asking your questions, but you see Paul's not looking at you. He's staring a bit to the side, looking generally frustrated as usual, but also thoughtful and distracted. You wonder what he's thinking of, deciding to wait until he wakes up to ask your next question. Of course Reggie's on the fucking list, dumbass. But I'm not going to tell you that.
He's my brother. He raised me, taught me everything I know, and he's the only one who cares about me, and that I give a shit about. He's the reason I kept going when I just wanted to watch everyone and everything die. I looked up to him. But he fucking gave up! Just because he lost to dad! Fuck! The fuck's wrong with him?! He wouldn't throw in the towel just because of that![/i]
The fuck're you waiting for?! Ask your motherfucking questions! You blink in shock, leaning back as far as possible at the sudden ferocious rage in his eyes. You wonder what he was thinking about that inspired him to look so suddenly furious, moreso than you've seen so far. But you're also extremely frightened by his expression, and so you swiftly heed him, tightly clutching the clipboard in both hands as you pray Groudon creates a sudden earthquake so you have an excuse to get out of there.
[/ul]
{Things that aren't so Groovy appealing to Paul}
[/b] [/center]+Fuckers who get on my nerves: They can all go to hell. I make sure that anyone who pisses me off never wants to do it again. Hmph.
+Weak trainers and Pokemon: Nothing but wastes of space and time. Despicable. They should all just go kill themselves so I won't have to deal with them slowing me down with their excuses for battles.
+Happy-Go-Lucky Assholes: They don't seem to realize how much the world sucks and why smiling is a fucking waste of energy. All it does it make you look like a weak little tool.
+Darkraidamn Contests: They're despicable and they do nothing but waste time. Any who willingly take part in them should admit to the world they only do them because they can't battle for their lives. Hmph.
+Assholes who try to pick on me: They piss the fuck outta me, but it just feels so good to smash their faces into the concrete. I have them to thank for my scars. He runs a finger along his knuckles, smirking as he clenches his fists until his knuckles crack. His pride in his wounds of battle is overwhelmingly obvious.
+Pokemon Breeding: It's fucking taurosshit. I don't know how Reggie does it all damn day. But I do know if he guilts me into helping him again, I'm throwing that Kangaskhan off a damn building.
[/ul][/color]
{But..I'm afraid!}
[/b] [/center]I'm scared of fading away. Or dying while still in Dad's fucking shadow. That's why I have to prove myself, and do it quick. I don't have time to waste. Getting Pokemon's trust and their love is pointless. I was treated cruelly by almost everyone around me, and I'm stronger than I ever could have been if I was babied and kept sheltered.
...And I'm scared Reggie will finally see that I'm a hopeless, cruel monster and stop caring about me. [/i] Something tells you that Paul's actually thinking the answer to the question, as he looks bitter and hateful, but if anything, it's turned toward himself. His upper lip is curled slightly over his teeth and he clenches one of his scarred fists, turning away from you. Maybe it's how loving and pious you are, but you feel a wave of pity for him. He's human too. He has fears and concerns. And despite the anger still on his face, he looks...broken. Like he knows there's a lot wrong with him, but he doesn't know how to put himself back together. And then he looks back at you, and you suddenly realize he doesn't want to put himself back together. The fuck're you staring at?! You have any more damn questions?! The disdainful mask is back. You continue, but, already very used to his angry antics and swearing, you stare at him for a moment longer with a calm, understanding look on your face before continuing at last.[/ul][/color]
{I like to}
[/b] [/center]{My reason?}
[/b][/center]{Mandatory Angst}
[/b][/center]You blink in alarm. Well, he really learned the whole violence thing young, you see. He doesn't seem to want to explain any further, however.
Those fuckers. They picked on me. They made my life hell! All it took was one fucking...Within the first few days at school they decided I was a good target. The teacher asked me a question. It was so simple. "What type is Starly?" I knew. But I hadn't been expecting it and...I stuttered and said "Fire" instead of "Flying". That one fucking question changed my life. But it made me stronger. I made it through school, and I showed them all what real strength is. I'm glad I never told Reggie. There was no point in making him suffer with me.[/i]
Reggie got his first Pokemon when he was ten, but I was only seven so he waited before leaving on his Pokemon journey to take care of me. The Aunt and Uncle were never as good as him in anything when it came to me. Heh. Did Paul just...chuckle? However weak it was, that was a chuckle. You're honestly astounded. Studying Paul closely, you can't see a difference with his expression. Still as displeased and cold as usual. But his voice can't say the same. It's so odd to hear Paul speaking without any sort of boredom and disdain, and whenever Reggie is his topic, even though you can't go far enough to say he sounds happy, his voice isn't filled with anything negative. As if in preparation for what he's planning to say next, Paul gives quite an unhappy frown. Three years later Reggie started his journey. The frown becomes a dark, humourless smirk, but Paul gives you no words to explain why. You tilt your head in curiosity. And there was no one to hold me back anymore. Before, I made sure to always run away when those bullies came after me. I didn't want to be hurt, because I knew Reggie would ask how it had happened. But when he left, I didn't have a reason to run anymore. I was angry and I wanted vengeance. Almost right after, I got my scars. Heh. And my reputation for being a fighter only idiots dared to mess with. Hmph. I always knew my school was full of idiots, but that just proved it. [/i]
I still saw Reggie. He would call at least once every couple of weeks. [/ul][/color]
Not again. Of all days to call. Reggie sure had a great sense of timing. Bad timing, that is. Paul gave a low groan of irritation, lifting his head from the armrest he had set it on in response to his Aunt's voice calling him.
"Paul! Your brother's on the phone! He wants to talk to you," she called from the other room.
One of Paul's hands slowly lifted to his face, and he pressed it against his lip, only to cringe as it stung painfully.
"Tell him I'm not home," A low, callous voice replied. A voice that didn't betray the regret Paul felt the moment he said those words.
His aunt was silent. He heard her speak up a lot quieter, this time most likely addressing his brother over the phone.
"Paul, please. Reggie wants to tell you about his latest gym battle," his Aunt asked again, this time practically pleading. Reggie must have looked upset.
Damn. Paul stood up with another groan, shoving bandaged hands gingerly into his pockets as he slouched into the phone room. His Aunt gave him a thankful but half-hearted smile before leaving. She wasn't dealing well with having a nephew that got into fights every other week at age 12. Cringing softly at his sore limbs, Paul couldn't help but think that she had nothing to complain about. He paused only a moment to ready himself before he stood in front of the screen that held his brother's face.
His older brother's ever-present smile faltered into a confused, concerned frown when his face appeared in the teleconference screen. But a frown could never control Reggie's face for long and after a moment it became a cheery sweet-as-sugar smile. The kind of smile that Paul liked to punch off people's faces, but yet he never minded when Reggie looked like that.
But Paul couldn't blame him for looking like that. He knew he looked...well, he looked beat up. The fight had been the day prior, so his black eye was strikingly obvious, and the red blotch on his lip was practically glowing and screaming for attention. Oh, and it turned out combing your hair was hard with split knuckles. Either way, Reggie's greeting was warm as always, despite his appearance.
"Hey, Paul! You look awful. What happened?" Curse teleconference screens. Why can't it just be a regular call, so he didn't have to show his face?
Paul shut his eyes, trying to look bored. It was hard to lie to his brother when he could see his face.
"Training. It's nothing," he explained quietly. Good thing he was old enough to have his own Pokemon now. It was a perfect excuse. Though if anyone asked how exactly Paul managed to get a black eye and a busted lip training a loyal little Turtwig, he wouldn't have been able to say.
With that statement, he opened his eyes to observe his brother's reaction. Reggie just stared at him with those dark eyes. Eyes exactly like his, only while his own were cold, Reggie's were incredibly warm. It was hard to tell whether Reggie believed him, or just didn't want to press him. Either way, Paul felt a fleeting sense of guilt. Fehh, it was a white lie. Why the hell would be want to worry his brother when he was on his journey in Kanto?
"Alright. Just be careful next time, Paul. You'll have to tell me about your training, but first I have news," It didn't seem possible, but Reggie's smile grew. It was obvious he was excited.
He held up a sparkling blue gem so Paul could see, and the sight of the Cascadebadge brought a grin to the younger sibling's face.
"So you beat Misty. How'd it go?" Paul was impressed. Proud of his older brother. But it sure didn't show in his low tone. It was no matter, he was sure Reggie knew he was glad.
And at Paul's question, Reggie's smile became a proud grin, and his thick eyebrows came down onto his eyes, giving him a fierce, fiery look.
"It was easy with Torterra! She didn't stand a chance. I used the water from the pool to fuel his Frenzy Plant. They won't be able to take any challenges for a while with the damage that did to the gym." Reggie exclaimed with obvious pride and exhilaration, though with a slightly sheepish note at the last statement.
Paul's grin was widening, and he didn't even realize it. He couldn't help it, when he saw Reggie like this. His older brother was his best friend and idol, and when he showed such effortless strength and command it was awe-inspiring.
"I wish I could have seen it," Paul told. His voice was somewhat louder than it had been earlier, and it was easier to detect the note of sincerity it held.
Reggie winked. "You missed my battle with Misty, but Lt. Surge is next. And Aunt Judy agreed to let you come visit again!"
Paul blinked in pleasant surprise, then his face softened into a smile. It hurt his lip to stretch the skin but he didn't care. Because he would be seeing his brother again, he'd be able to watch his battle, and he'd be able to get away from his godsforsaken town for a couple of weeks. His fists clenching in his pockets at the sudden surge of energy, Paul responded enthusiastically.
"I can't wait!"
I went to visit him sometimes when he was in another region. I learned a lot from him. So even though I started my journey three years later than most kids, I wasn't at all behind. But just as I was going to start my own journey, Reggie ended his. He snarls in confusion and slams a fist against one of his thighs. Darkraidammit. I went to watch his battle with dad. I was excited. I wanted to see Dad fall to Reggie but...Instead Reggie lost. That wasn't a big deal. I knew he would try again. But he didn't. He just...gave up! Stopped battling! To become a breeder!
For fuck's sake I have no idea why...I blame Dad. And I blame Reggie. Ever since then I've been trying to get him to start battling again. I went through the regions, I gave my most battle-crazed Pokemon to Reggie so he can raise them while my team is full in the hopes he'd get inspired again or something. And I'm not done trying.
Your eyes widen in surprise at the passionate determination on his face. Darkraidarnit. He really opened up. You have a sudden feeling that every time Paul was lost in thought during the interview he was thinking about Reggie, and his 'plan' to get him back into battling. You really can't help but smile. He really does care about his brother. Enough that he wants him to battle again, even if he doesn't openly show it much. You really can't help it when a warm little "D'awwwww~" comes out of your mouth. Paul looks up at you, and you think you detect a vague blush on his bronzed cheeks. However, it's the murderous look in his black eyes that catches most of your attention. Paul's back. Fuck off.
[/ul][/color]
{Oh and by the way}
[/b][/center]{I'm just a proxy for}
[/b] [/center]Wrath: Whoahey! It's Wrath~ 8xD Who else could be pulling this meanie-face's strings?
Hmmph. Fuck you. It's your turn, so I'm out of here. And don't fuck up and make me go through another taurosshit interview, got it?
Wrath: Fssssssh whutevuh, Paul. Congrats, Interviewer! You survived without receiving emotional scars
[/color] With that, Wrath offers you a paper airplane. You take it and she leaves the room with a salute, following after Paul who left shortly after saying he would. You look down and unfold the paper airplane to find the writing sample. Oh, thank Celebi you survived. [/ul]
{Here's some of their writing!}
[/b] [/center]A particularly nasty scowl twisted his face into an expression of pure hatred and resentment, an exterior suggestion of his interior battle.
A part of Paul knew that he needed to borrow his brother's Pokemon if he wanted to travel all the way to the Kanto region in any reasonable length of time--REGGIE HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THIS HE HAD TRAINED THAT STARAPTOR FROM A STARAVIA ALMOST ALL ON HIS OWN--while the other part of him was trying to smash through the logic and make Paul start dropping bodies. He was feeling quite sympathetic to the currently repressed half.
Paul was in his usual laid-back position, his shoulders hunched slightly and his hands shoved into his pockets as he stood with Reggie's Staraptor, waiting for them to announce the winner of the contest.
They were being ridiculously slow.
Oh, Darkrai these people were out of their minds. A roll of his dark irises, and he was thinking back to the start of the contest.
It was appeal time. Get your bitches groomed and dressed.
[/color] Like fuck I’m dressing Staraptor up.
“Remarkable! The lack of any dressing or use of Seals is edgy and daring! We’ll see you and Staraptor in the next round!”
A groan of disgust and a facepalm of whythefuckisthishappeningtome later and it was time for contest battles. That memory inspired a dark smirk in present-day Paul. The boy felt a soft nudge on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see Staraptor pointing with his wing at a Kadabra being dragged out of the contest hall on a stretcher. It nodded its head and gave an uneven chirp that resembled a laugh at the sight. Paul’s eyes narrowed and his smirk widened.
“Hmph. That’s what he gets for wasting his time trying to look good instead of focusing on the battle,” Paul commented in his usual low, smug voice, chuckling. He saw the Pokemon’s trainer walking beside the stretcher, fretting over his weak little Psychic type. As Paul watched he pushed up his glasses and glared at him with puffy red eyes. Paul shut his eyes and turned his face away in amused disdain.
Obviously he hadn't been listening to the taurosshit chatter the judges had been giving before the battles had begun, and had therefore missed the instructions. Apparently he was supposed to have battled that Kadabra with Staraptor in a pretty way, but he hadn't known that. Staraptor had destroyed the Psychic-type in the most violent, destructive, and apparently unattractive way possible, as per Paul's commands.
The judges had stared in shock, and the massive contest hall had been silent save for the Kadabra's trainer, screaming in horror.
He hadn't scored very high, but he had won the battle.
"In third place, we have Timmy and Dusclops! Remarkable!" A judge cried overdramatically, and the contest hall gave a weak bout of applause for the boy as he smiled at his Pokemon, and stepped up onto the lowest platform of the podium.
Paul rolled his eyes, bringing his thick purple eyebrows further down onto his eyes. Couldn't these bastards hurry up? He had to admit, however, he was surprised at the fact he hadn't ended up third. The only ones left standing before the judges were himself and a curly-haired male who smelled as if he had bathed in cologne. Wrinkling his nose, Paul continued to stare at the judges, as they gave a dramatic, suspenseful pause. Only Paul seemed unaffected by the tension. He yawned pointedly.
"Give a big hand to our runners up, Adam and Roselia! And so, congratulations to Paul and Staraptor! Come up and get your ribbon, you remarkable two!"
Paul stared, his scowl broken by an expression of shock. For a moment his eyes were wide, his mouth dropped open and he just stood there, dumbfounded. Staraptor gave a proud shriek beside him, taking off with a powerful flap of its wings and doing a victory lap before landing with a blast of wind beside the judge holding the ribbon. Paul collected himself, and his expression hardened back into a harsh glare once more. He slouched over to join Staraptor, as people finally began to clap and shout in congratulation, remaining astonished that the boy who had beat up the Kadabra had won.
He groaned softly in disgust when the ribbon was brought out of its case, a shimmery speck of orange and gold. He could feel the envious stares of Timmy and Adam, but they barely affected him. He’d been glared at by people who were actually threatening, and a couple of colourful assholes weren’t going to frighten him. Either way, he had something to say. And he wasn’t going to wait any longer.
“LET’S ALL GIVE A HAND TO THE WINNER OF TODAY’S CONTEST HERE IN VEILSTO—What’s that?”
“I said I don’t want it. The ribbon,” Paul’s disinterested, irritated voice echoed around the stadium, made louder by the microphone that the unsuspecting, smiling judge had thrust near his face. What, did he think he was about to make a speech of thanks? Heh.
“My brother made me enter this taurosshit contest against my will and I sure as fuck didn’t want to or even try to win it. Give the ribbon to the fruit with the Roselia for all I care. I don’t want the Darkraidamn thing.”
The stadium was deathly silent. Apparently these preppy freaks had never heard someone swearing through a microphone while refusing a prestigious contest ribbon. Well, in this case even the losers and the spectators would have something to tell Mommy tonight. He lifted his arm in a gesture to Staraptor, who broke the silence with a shriek before descending obediently to Paul’s side. He returned the Pokemon without a word, turned his back, clipped the Pokeball to his belt, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started to slouch off.
He felt every eye in the room on his purple head but, frankly, he didn’t give a shit. He was off to train, get ready to leave for Kanto, and bask in the fame of being that dude with the Staraptor that swore out loud in a contest shown on tv. As far as he heard, only one word was spoken behind him.
“…Remarkable.”
[/ul]
