Set in the original region of Arciel, Legends Rising is a route-inspired, but not strictly route-based, Pokemon roleplay. Pick a faction, pick a class, and strike out into the wild to take on the League, master Contest coordination, research the mysteries of Pokemon and Arciel, and much, much more. Will you be a classic trainer? A criminal? A farmer? Choose your destiny on Legends Rising.
"Not so much inviting as accepting your invitation to cook me dinner." She corrects, though she can't help the laugh that escapes her immediately after. "Oh, don't have your mom send you one, you don't want to rip the poor thing, especially if you're not going to use it more than once." It sounds like she's giving him an out, here, and she follows it up with a light, playful shove to his arm.
... Maybe that was a mistake. She can't even fit her whole hand around his bicep, and he's even warmer against her palm. Arceus, he's huge, and although her touch lingers perhaps a little longer than necessary - she can't fit her hand around his bicep - she pulls away in time when he draws attention to Reddy sleeping soundly in his arms, and changes the conversation to... BLTs? Whatever those are.
How can she not fit her hand around his arm?
There's something she could say in response to that, but she bites her words back and decides against it, finding comfort instead in cooling herself off on the cold metal of the railing as she leans back against it. She'd like to think she can see the shoreline from here, but she feels like it's still a ways away, and her mind races with things to say that aren't about how big a BLT is or how well she can eat it. And that's just the safe-for-work version of it.
As she watches Fembra give Samson more pets, using both hands this time, her little tail waggling behind her, she remembers the Stufful she had gifted him the last time they'd met up and turns her attention to that instead. "How is... was it PUff? How are they doing?"
There's a response in Lionel's throat, bubbling up to answer her teasing remarks, but it ends up lost as he notices the way her hand lingers on his arm, and, really, seems to touch at him more than simply brush. It makes him stop for only a moment, but he still can't keep his laugh from sounding. "Hey, hey. I'm a pretty careful guy, I wouldn't rip it! Besides, I wouldn't tie it - problem solved, right?"
His mind is on the touch, though. Her hand against his arm, a sensation lingering the way the hand had itself, and there's a faint darkening to his cheeks, though perhaps he could explain it away with the sun on his face. Whether he could get away with it or not is a bit of a mystery, and it doesn't seem like it matters anyway, because they settle into a bit of a silence after the moment is done and he lets his eyes watch the way the water parts, leaving little trails of waves in the ferry's wake.
Until she asks him a question, of course. About Puff, a question which draws a smile to his features. "Oh, she's alright. I don't have her with me today, but she's gotten along well everyone so far. She likes to try and knock Samson around, but he's so big it doesn't really bother him. It's kinda funny to watch." His orange gaze at last turns towards her again, and he simply looks at her, letting his eyes follow the way her hair framed her face, or how she leaned and stared out toward the water - the sort of way someone might, when they were having a picture taken.
Was that a strange thought? He wasn't sure.
"Thank you, for her. She's been good to have. You said she reminded me of you, but I think she reminds me of you instead." Oh no, he was being cheesy. He points briefly to her hair, blonde as it was. "She's shiny, yellow - like your hair. It's pretty."
A pause, and he bashfully admits, "You're pretty, I mean." As if it wasn't obvious - as if she already didn't know. Still.
362 words | Faolan Byrne | intimidate: pokemon spawn lvl 12 or higher.
"She's got moxy, I see," Faolan muses, and her eyes drift to him slowly, more peeking than outright staring at him like she'd done earlier. "She sounds like a good girl. I'm glad she's getting on well with everyone else, I was wondering about that, a little." She honestly can't wait to see what it would be like when the girl evolves - if she's still talking to Lionel by then. Come to think of it, she's never actually seen him battle before, either.... Maybe her initial trepidation over him being competition for the league challenge was unfounded? But then he'd also made it from Plum to Bass in one piece, and probably farther than that....
She looks away again, but feels eyes on her and looks back, just in time to catch the way he's pointing to her hair. Puff reminds him of her? How--- oh. Her fingers twirl a bit of hair around them as he compliments the color, the golden, sunshine-yellow of it. And then he just comes out and calls her pretty, and not for the first time does she regret being so pale, because the blush that colors her cheeks stands out even more so against her skin.
It's just a compliment, it's one that she's heard dozens of times before and would probably hear dozens of times after. But it's coming from Lionel, and that automatically makes it a little more genuine, a little softer - especially coming from someone whose first intent isn't to get in her pants. She tries to brush it off, she really does, but she can't help the way her eyes find a sudden interest in the ocean, or the way she lifts a hand to try and tuck her hair behind her ear and simultaneously cover her face, though to her credit she makes the movement look natural.
"... I'm sure you say that to all the girls." She eventually manages, trying and failing to inject some kind of teasing into it. "I like you plenty, you don't have to go that far." She does manage to meet his gaze again, though, and though the flush is still dark on her skin her eyes are uncertain, mingling with another emotion that's hard to read.
"Even if I did, what's so wrong about that?" He questions, genuinely. "Girls are pretty - and I think they should know that. But besides, I think if I wanted to say something to all the girls, I'd come up with something a little more creative, right? But I think I'm pretty content right now, just saying things to one girl."
Lionel looked just as nervous as ever, but there's a bit more confidence to him despite it, in the way he keeps his eyes on her face as she looks away, as she tucks that hair behind her ear (he wants to do that, too, he has the feeling her hair is soft,) "How's that going too far? Is it so wrong to compliment you?"
Suddenly, he feels a little surge of that confidence, and he leans over, resting against the railing upon his elbow as he smiles at her, pleased with the way her cheeks turned several rosy shades against pale skin, and how hard she was trying to remain nonchalant. Perhaps at first he'd been anxious about flirting, about this sort of thing - but he had a pretty good idea that she was interested in him. She even had just said so, in so many words.
He tilts his head in closer, though not terribly so, that he can speak to her clear over the sounds of the water and ferry around them. "I'm glad you like me, though. I was a little worried, for a while there. Not, uh... not pushing for anything you don't want, but at the very least, it's nice to know."
268 words | Faolan Byrne | intimidate: pokemon spawn lvl 12 or higher.
She has mixed reactions on his response, and it's enough to make her drop her gaze for good as she falls into that familiar closed-off state that's her sinking into her thoughts again. The shore is getting steadily more visible, and she imagines they'll be landing and disembarking in less than... twenty minutes? Maybe fifteen, if things kept at the pace they were going. Already all around them people were gathering their things, checking and double-checking to make sure their items and pokemon were all intact and ready to continue their journey.
Faolan's own pokemon looked like they'd just gotten comfortable, but Fembra does peer around at the shuffling movement all around her, curious and a little concerned as to what's going on. Reddy continues slumbering on like normal, though if he fluffs up a little more it doesn't rouse him at all, and he actually ends up turning his head deeper into Lionel's arm, enough he actually now just resembles a little orange ball of feathers and bird.
She has to answer him sometime, she knows. But she honestly can't think of the words she wants to say, doesn't really trust herself to say anything to that because there's so many wrong things she can say, and so few right - at least, that's what she thinks. Instead she looks at him with that look again, the one that's uncertain but definitely not unwanting. This is all so new to her; if he wasn't tipped off before, it wouldn't be surprising if he figured it out on his own.
"I can't imagine anyone not liking you," She eventually settles with, and shifts her weight a little from one foot to the other. The movement closes what little distance there was between them and she leans into him, comfortably, before turning her gaze back towards the shore and the great buildings looming in the distance. "Must be a Lionel thing."
If he'd done something wrong, it takes him a few moments to realize it. It was a delicate game, he'd come to realize; she was terribly withdrawn, and while he didn't mind it, it did make it difficult for him to get a read on her, a real read. She liked him, he could gather that much - but something kept her reeled a little back, every time. Perhaps if he knew...? But that's so much to ask of someone you've just met, and with only mild disappointment does he watch her turn her eyes away from him.
As she looks elsewhere, so too does he, letting his gaze turn to Missy and Samson; one was happily napping against the sunshine on her fur, and the other had inchwormed ever closer to the tiny Charmander that his snout almost bumped into her - but the shuffling of passengers around them is enough for him to lift his head up and away, keeping a good eye on everyone, in that so very watchful way.
Just as he goes to speak up, about something or other, Faolan shifts and leans into him - and to his credit, surprised as it makes him, he doesn't move. In fact, he plays it as casually as he can, though he laughs as she speaks all the same. "You'd be surprised at how many people didn't like me when I was an officer. Nobody likes getting in trouble."
Briefly turning his attention to Reddy, he supposes it might be near time to wake him up; or not, if they were getting something to eat together after? Staring at him a moment, he decides just to smile in the end, looking back towards his Trainer, gazing fondly at her; though if she turned to look at him, too, he'd embarrassingly look away.
302 words | Faolan Byrne | intimidate: pokemon spawn lvl 12 or higher.
The ferry is steadily encroaching upon the shore, and after one more look at Reddy she seems to come to a decision. The bird is napping so deeply that he doesn't notice or hear when she takes out his pokeball, and soon enough he's disappearing into it with a flash of red as she returns him to the capsule, leaving Lionel's arms free and maybe covered with a tiny orange feather or two. The ball is tucked away with the rest of her party, the ones Lionel hasn't seen yet, and she stretches her arms high over her head as Fembra scampers over to her master's side obediently. After scratching the little Charmander on the head, reassuring her they still had some time before actually disembarking, Fembra sits herself down and waits, peering this way and that at all the new faces with a bit of her usual timidness returning.
"Even so, I can't quite imagine you being a meanie. I feel like you don't have a single mean bone in your body." If anything, probably a very long lecture? Yeah, Lionel seems like the type.
It seems like everytime she feels eyes on her and looks up, Lionel's looking away - it's like his shyness has gotten the better of him and that actually puts her a little more at ease, more than anything he could say. It's easier to remember he's just another guy this way, no matter how big or confident he could come across, he was still just a big baby with dog babies and other, more literal baby pokemon. So she lays a hand on his arm again - she still can't fit her fingers around it, how - nudging him gently. She means to say something, but she's a little distracted at, again, how warm he is and whatever she means to say is lost.
And oh no, she can't look away because that'd be weird so she's just. Looking at him. Waiting for him to say something. Give her directions to the sandwich shop or offer to walk her there, anything.
It's strange, how oddly empty his arms feel as Reddy is returned to his Pokeball. Where that concentrated warmth had been comes a breeze, and for a moment he's just picking little feathers off of himself and watching them float away, to ultimately land on the water's surface. "I can be mean if I need to. You haven't given me reason to." Snorting, he then says, "And besides, it's not my job to be mean anymore. My job's just to live my life, whatever that means now." Quite the existential statement, but he doesn't let it get him down.
Not that he has the chance to, with the sudden hand on his arm, small and warm. He's locked on her again, and where they'd been steadily avoiding each other's gazes, now they're met, almost forcibly, and there's a long, heavy silence between them that begs to be filled - and yet, there isn't anything at first. Samson tilts his head up, watching them as they watch each other, and for a short while, all that Lionel can manage to do is rest a large, calloused and well-worked hand over the one she rests upon his arm - hopefully it doesn't scare her away, how he curls those fingers around it.
He seems to be leaning in, his lips parted just barely to say something, or... or something, but that something doesn't come at first. The clatter of the ferry preparing for docking distracts him, has him almost jump, and he ultimately straightens his posture out for fear of having gone too far, scared her away. For a little wolf, she was awfully rabbit hearted. But then, he wasn't much different, was he?
Still holding onto her hand if she'd let him, however lightly, he says, "That place isn't that far from the Ferry Terminal. I can, uh, I can lead us there. If you're still hungry, that is."
316 words | Faolan Byrne | intimidate: pokemon spawn lvl 12 or higher.
The way he dwarfs her as he leans in has her heart fluttering in chest for some reason or another, and the hand over hers is warm, so warm it almost feels like burning. His eyes are like fire, mesmerizing and entrancing, and she can't look away, doesn't want to look away even as he closes the distance between them to a dangerous degree. A part of her wants to run, but the other part wants to stay because despite everything, it feels better here than anywhere else. Lionel's tall enough he acts as a big, protective shield, and she can forget about everything else all around them for the moment.
It's as she's lifting her chin up to his that he suddenly jumps away, and suddenly the sounds of life come flooding back in all around them. That's right, they're... on a boat. They're on the way to Plum to get some food, and -- what even is she doing. Her fingers are small in his hand, but she doesn't pull away; not right away, at least. Fembra has started looking this way and that as everyone around them starts to gather their things, looking at the few pokemon roaming free out of their balls as their trainers get ready to disembark. She looks up at Faolan, questioning, sees Lionel's hand on her master's and looks down at her own hand... before shyly reaching up to take Faolan's other hand to hold.
Now the spell seems to be broken, and Faolan pulls away, picking up her bag from the floor and squeezing Fembra's tiny lizard hand in hers.
"I'm still hungry," She says, giving him a brief look before looking away again. "I'll... get settled in at the PokeCenter first and then I'll meet you there." Fembra turns to wave goodbye as she trots along happily beside Faolan, still holding her master's hand, and the pair move quickly past Lionel to join the crowd surging towards the exit.
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