#ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪᴇʟᴅs 🌿 ic

[gmaxsweetness]

He chuckles softly to himself. There goes Melony again. He’s long known how nurturing a person she is; he fondly recalls her checking in on him and Gordie every half an hour when he stayed round Gordie’s house as a teenager, and that hasn’t changed a bit. Even now, after League meetings and the like, she rarely leaves without giving him a perfume-y hug and asking him how he’s been doing.

His own parents have never been bad, per se -- in fact, he’s very close with them, and he’s glad they raised him -- but there’s some things he’d be more comfortable talking to about with Melony than them. A bit ironic, he muses, considering the tiff she had with her actual son revolved around communication -- or rather, lack thereof.

[gmaxsweetness]

“He calls it a stubborn streak, but is it really just a streak if it’s so big?”

[gmaxsweetness]

“Did one of you lot just... put strawberries on a pizza?

“’m not one to judge other people’s taste in food, but that’s absolutely awful. Strawberries are out of season, too...”

[gmaxsweetness]

“Oh, good grief. Do I even want to know what a ‘simp’ is?”

[gmaxsweetness]

“Oh, I love Wooloo. They’re such sweet Pokemon, and they have so much personality to them. I didn’t just model my Gym challenge around them out of convenience.”

[gmaxsweetness]

...Well, that could’ve turned out a lot worse, if he’s honest. He’s quietly relieved they didn’t end up fighting; Melony and Gordie do need to talk it out, but just hearing them talk raised his hackles a bit.

And he feels awful for thinking as much, but he thinks it’s sort of endearing when Gordie’s flustered like that.

[gmaxsweetness]

“I know I’m biased, bost Grass-types make pretty good starter Pokemon, provided they aren’t too poisonous or leaving spores all over the place. Most of them are good-natured and pretty laid-back, which is good if you’ve never handled a Pokemon of your own before.”

[gmaxsweetness]

@gigekitanzan

Milo’s still sat by the side of the water as the day fades into late afternoon. He hasn’t taken his hand out of the water, finding the cool numbness relaxing

As the sun moves in the sky, though, he finds himself turning a little, moving to face it more. It’s rejuvenating like nothing else; more than sleep, more than food.

Perhaps he should find that odder than he does.

A few wild Pokemon come up to him, but they scatter as soon as he turns to face them; only Grass- and Normal-types linger for more than a couple of seconds before turning tail. He doesn’t pay them much mind, simply offering them a small smile, a shadow of his usual sunshine grin. Maybe a wave, if they stay long enough for him to raise his hand.

You need to conserve your energy. You’ve been out of the sun most of today.

It’s as the sun sets that he hears heavy footfalls approaching his spot. He’d brush it off as another wild Pokemon, but the cadence isn’t quite right to not be human. That said, he’s never met a person with such thundering footsteps before.

Out of curiosity, he looks up.

The figure in the distance is far away, their silhouette unfamiliar at first, and he’s unable to distinguish where its legs are. As it approaches though, its build becomes more recognisable, though some features -- a tail? -- keep total realisation from setting in.

The glint of light on blue shades and through platinum blond hair is what’s enough to make him stand, pulling his hand out of the water and waving, trying to catch the figure’s attention.

“Gordie!”

[gmaxsweetness]

which pokemon are you?

“This is... a little flattering, but mostly true, I’d say.”

[gmaxsweetness]

The sun is high and bright in the sky by the time he wakes up. Despite its position in the shade, his little tent feels more like a greenhouse than anything else. Still half-asleep, he fumbles for the tent zipper, letting daylight and cool, crisp air flood in.

Milo props himself up on one elbow, eyelids slowly unsticking from each other. He blinks a few times, idly scratches his neck, recollection not coming to him for a moment or two --

-- until he sits bolt upright, looking around with wide eyes.

Gossi isn’t in the tent.

He’s not outside it, either, or anywhere within a few feet of it, as Milo discovers when he stumbles out of his tent in a panic. His neck’s itching something fierce, and he can feel little bumps under the skin, like a weird rash. As he searches, he keeps scratching, and scratching, and scratching, and even though his mum always said never to scratch an itch he can’t stop doing it.

He only stops when his fingers come away wet. 

Startled at how easily his skin broke, he looks at his hand, expecting to see red and smell iron. The only blood he finds, though, is shot in little rivulets through a clear, yellow-tinted substance. He taps his fingers together, experimentally. Quick-drying, but tacky. Almost like --

-- almost like sap.

The thought is sobering, quieting, and he’s not entirely sure how he should react to it. Instead of just wiping his hand on the grass -- something inside him tells him that’s a bad idea -- he decides to walk down to the lake to clean off the not-quite-blood.

As he sits on the lake shore and watches the sun dance on the water, his hands cooling as he washes them, he silently fights the urge to look at his reflection.

[gmaxsweetness]

“I have to admit, being a Gym Leader isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a lot of responsibilities you have to juggle on top of everything else going on in your life...

“I wouldn’t change being a Gym Leader for the world, but sometimes it feels like a bit more stress than what it’s worth.”

[gmaxsweetness]

“Is... everyone all right?”

[gmaxsweetness]

The Wooloo is still standing out in the field when Milo returns. 

It’s still drooling a lot, swaying on wobbly legs, its face as blank as the whiteness of its eyes. Some impulse deep in Milo’s brain tells him to run, to get far away from this... thing, this deeply sick creature, before it somehow infects him too.

He came back out here to do a job, though. To possibly help save the rest of his family’s flock, and work out what’s wrong with the poor creature before it does any more damage. Medical aid is on its way; he just wants to check that it’s not something he can’t deal with.

“Come on, it’s alright,” he murmurs, trying to calm the Wooloo as he approaches, gently adjusting his gloves. He’s just going to check there isn’t anything nasty lurking in its fur, is all. Just a quick checkup, and then it’ll be over. 

He doesn’t know whether he’s thinking this stuff for the Wooloo’s sake, or his own.

Closer, until he’s right beside it, gently but firmly holding onto its sides. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He scrubs his fingertips through the fleece, looking out for any unusual bumps or lesions. He’s a little calmer now, and so is the Wooloo, judging by the way its swaying has slowed.

Then it rears back, slamming its head into his shin.

Wooloo used Headbutt!

Despite his stockiness, Milo’s knocked clean over, his head hitting the ground with an unpleasant thud. 

He sits up, grimacing, apologising to the Wooloo -- “Sorry, did I hit a rough spot?” -- and as he does, he notices something in the distance. Two people, with a stretcher. Wow, that was fast.

As they take the Wooloo away, and Milo explains what he’s seen, he doesn’t pay attention to the graze on his shin from the Wooloo’s little horns, dark and oozing blood.

[gmaxsweetness]

“Dad,” he says, pushing open the front door, “there’s summat up with one of the Wooloo.”

His father looks up from the book he’s reading, mostly unconcerned and a little irritated. “You sure about that? I checked over ‘em yesterday, and they all seemed fine enough?”

Milo frowns. “I’m sure, Dad. It was just... standin’ there in the field, dribbling a lot, not moving, just swayin’ side to side a bit. ‘S probably still there now, actually.”

His dad says nothing, just raises his eyebrows, though he doesn’t return his attention to his book.

“It’s-- it’s not normal, Dad, I know it. It’s sick, or got some kind of parasite, or summat like that, I dunno the specifics, but -- it’s not right.” His tone’s becoming almost pleading with concern. “Its eyes were white, Dad. Milk-white. That��s not normal.”

At that, his dad closes his book with a quiet snap. “White eyes?” he asks, and his tone of voice tells Milo that there’s something more going on here. Something he hasn’t known about, something he should’ve been paying more attention to.

Milo nods.

His father lets out a sigh and stands up, folding his reading glasses and placing them into his pocket. “I’ll call the Pokemon Centre. You go back out there and check there aren’t any parasites on it, alright? Make sure it doesn’t bite you, Zacien knows what’s up with it.”

“Alright.”

Still more than a little worried, Milo grabs a pair of protective gloves from one of the coat hooks by the door and heads back outside.

[gmaxsweetness]

He’s herding the Wooloo into the stadium with the help of Maggie, one of his family’s Yamper, when he notices one of them isn’t moving.

It’s standing out by itself in the field, not following the others, just... swaying a little from side to side. He wonders quietly to himself what’s wrong with it -- did it get spooked by Maggie? Is it ill? Is it tired?

As he gets closer to it, Maggie runs after him, yipping curiously.

“Mags, stay back.” His voice is gentle, but firm. “We don’t know what’s up with it yet.”

Maggie sulks a little, but turns tail and carries on herding the other Wooloo into the stadium, leaving Milo alone with the one left behind.

This close, he can definitely see that it’s sick. The swaying isn’t in time with the wind or anything else, just its weak legs trying to hold it upright. It’s dribbling, too, which Milo takes a moment to notice; its saliva blends in with the rest of its face, just dampening its wool.

No, what he’s most focused on is that its eyes have gone a milky, cloudy white.

[gmaxsweetness]

@celestiialis​ asked:  "Hey, Milo. Err... fancy seein' you here." The Grass Leader? In the frozen tundra of Circhester? Talk about a drastic change of scenery! Still, Gordie would greet them with a smile all the same. Hands gravitating to his hips, he continued. "But don't get me wrong, it IS good to see you! What brings you here, eh?" (//Hope you don't mind! ;w;)

Admittedly, it is somewhat unusual to see Milo in an area so rich in a type that can absolutely demolish his team. That said, it does up the stakes of his training -- he can’t afford to put a foot wrong, so he has to think quickly -- and despite battling mostly for fun, he appreciates a challenge.

Gordie appearing surprises him though, and he starts upright midway through healing up his Ludicolo. 

“Oh, Gordie! Lovely to see you!” he says, grinning. “Y’alright?” (He quietly cringes at such a stereotypically Turffield greeting, but he’s sure Gordie won’t mind it.) “I’m just here to train my team a bit -- learning to how to defeat types I’m weak to, that sorta thing.” 

As if to illustrate his point, he gently pats the head of his Ludicolo, who seems to recognise Gordie -- it’s perked up a bit, and it waves its hands as a greeting. “Ludi ludi!”