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firstnothingThe afternoon before had been ... enlightening. And with the egg he'd acquired hatching just after dark, bringing his team to three (two and a half he supposed; a newborn pokemon wasn't terribly strong), things seemed to be going well. The dusky little fox was more than content to curl up with Sorrow and Regret and sleep there the entire night through, and he'd had no reason to disturb them. Come the morning, all three would be put to work.
That had been the plan anyway. Something seemed off as he set up breakfast; he's almost completely certain there had not been four pokemon sleeping there last night. And now there were. Regret's obvious black-and-white, Sorrow's vivid green, the little zorua's dusky gray, and ... orange, cream and black, all curled up.
Frown.
Ousting the doglike pokemon proved to be more troublesome than it was worth, and Xemnas quickly settled on simply ignoring it in favor of straightening out his own, handing out breakfast, checking for lingering injury from the day before, and heading on his way. Honestly he had intended to catch a growlithe sooner or later, preferably sooner, but this one was ... overaffectionate. And far too exuberant for his tastes, with the way it bounced in happy, barking circles around himself and his bewildered team.
Thus went the day. The constant energetic presence of the growlithe didn't really interrupt the hunting any, as wild pokemon seemed to ignore the noise and darting about for the most part, including one sleeping abra at the base of a tree. Abras, according to his pokedex after a quick scan, wouldn't ordinarily counterattack. And the little zorua was more than happy to test its small claws and sharp teeth on the sleeping psychic-type.
Repeatedly, given the thing kept teleporting. It was annoying enough to all of them (except the growlithe, who seemed impossible to annoy) that actual effective teamwork seemed to be rapidly forged between his three pokemon out of sheer determination to corner and catch the abra. It kept teleporting. How often could it do that?
Quite a bit it turned out. But eventually, with a lot of effort and a well-timed Grass Whistle, Xemnas had the little psychic-fox neatly trapped in one of those red-and-white pokeballs. The first one he'd ever bothered to catch, and that probably due to the frustration levels of chasing it around all day.
As sunset approached and he set out for the distant city again, the growlithe followed.
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[From the sound of sharp little hooves on road, he's managed to find a proper route to follow.]
Is it ordinary that a pokemon might decide to join you, whether or not you wish it to be there?
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Date: 2013-09-09 05:54 pm (UTC)Afterwards, any heart stolen by a heartless - and they go straight through a person's chest after hearts - becomes a heartless. Keyblades are magical weapons. The important word being 'magical'. They are aware on some level of who is trying to use them, and are very, very picky about their owners. If you or I or anyone else are inappropriate individuals it will simply vanish from our hands. The keyblades do not care how few individuals there are right now that can wield them, they have their own qualifications and will not be dissuaded from them. They are after all, objects. One cannot reason with a chunk of metal, magical or not.
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Date: 2013-09-10 12:07 am (UTC)Are-- were you one of those Nobodies you spoke of, earlier?
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Date: 2013-09-10 12:26 am (UTC)[He knows that one. He was involved, directly.]
I was. Until arriving here. Part of being human is having a heart, after all.
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Date: 2013-09-16 02:37 pm (UTC)[A pause as he considers that.] How does being human feel to you?
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Date: 2013-09-16 06:19 pm (UTC)...As for being human. It feels very little different, save that now the emotions I once faked are genuine things. I am uncertain of how to explain it to you.