R
Rodian
Guest
Chapter One: A Late Start
A shiny golden cup rest upon a pallet in the centre of the large, circular, and black room. The cup seemed to emit a sort of light, which in turn kept the and only the centre illuminated; very slowly the boy tread towards it, his hand outstretched, it was close, he could feel its cool surface against his fingers -
“Wingull! Wingull! Wingull!” … Cracks of light had began to slowly break through ten-year-old Conan Ludwig’s window.
The boy had been very anxiously awaiting this day for quite a time now, like many others, he was anxious to begin his very own adventure with Pokémon.
Crankily the boy sat up in bed, hitting the switch to turn off his loud Wingull alarm clock; in the process he knocked it onto the floor. (He made a mental note to trash it later, just out of annoyance).
His brown hair was even messier than usual this morning, flattened against his head, but each strand pointed in different directions nearing the bottom, creating a sort of ‘wavy’ effect.
His eyes, although only narrowly opened and dark from previous sleep, glittered in the slowly expanding sunlight -
“Jynx, Jynx, Jynx, Jynx…!” Came a vibrant, feminine voice and a short dark figure burst into the room, her long blonde hair jiggling as she flew across the room towards the boy. “Jynx, Jynx!” The Jynx moved slowly towards him, her lips seemed to somehow stretch towards Conan. He could hear her usual Mwah sound which occurred whenever she attempted kissing anybody -
He had to endure this every morning until - “Jynx, m’dear?” A short, chubby old man appeared at the foot of
boy’s rather small bedroom, the man’s face was etched with wrinkles that seemed to tell his age, however, he always wore a very warm smile.
The Jynx quickly scattered over to the old man, he wasn’t actually much taller than the human-like Pokémon.
“Grandpa?” murmured Conan, eyes still half closed together with excess of sleep. “Yes, m’boy?” said the elderly man in a gentle, squeaky, but rather high-pitched voice. “Err-” Conan stuttered, rubbing away at his eyes until he could see clearly. “What time is it, Grandpa?” He asked almost absentmindedly, although it was a rather foolish question to ask, he had only, moments earlier been in the clear view of an alarm clock.
“Quarter to nine, m’boy.” said his Grandpa, having first tidied up Conan’s bed sheets, opened the improperly drew curtains, and returned his alarm clock up to it’s place on the cabinet beside Conan’s bed, Conan noticed that the Jynx had seemed to had vanished from the room entirely.
“Quarter to -” - “Grandpa! I should have been woke up earlier! I have to go in fifteen minutes!” Conan yelled, his voice was desperate, but also touched with slight annoyance. “But you were sleeping…I didn’t want to disturb you.” stuttered the elderly man, who was now thoroughly cleaning Conan’s wardrobe.
Gritting his teeth angrily, Conan pulled his pyjamas off with such brutality as he lobbed them across the room, his alarm clock came hurtling off the self once more. Conan redressed in his usual attire (having first shooed his grandfather out of the room); a pair of grey and black pants with over a dozen pockets, most of which he never made use of. And also a pair of plain white trainers, with various black markings in certain places although they were almost indistinguishable, the trainers were obviously worn and tattered. Also, he wore a black shirt, simple, over which he wore a bright green and orange sweater which seemed to bring the outfit together, and two new additions had been made to his complete his ‘Trainer’ image; his grandfather had recently bought him, a strap that clung to the strap of his backpack and allowed for Pokéballs to be attached for easy accessibility and efficiency. And also a grey backpack, tattered with the essential supplies if he expected to survive in his journeys, some underwear, and pyjamas, and food, and an sleeping bag (his favourite, it had the image of a large Plusle on it, dancing across a canvas of blue.), and also a number of other things.
“Five minutes to nine! You better hurry up, lad!" yelled his grandfather breathily from the kitchen, (Who was busy being assistant chef to his Jynx, whom was, on the contrary, not a very good chef at all, Conan never partook in any of her…creations.)
Conan hardly said a word to his grandfather before he shot out the front door, toppling over the cobbles clumsily due to the rate of his acceleration. He sprinted excitedly through Littleroot town, until finally a large whitewash building came into sight, a big sign erected just in front it of it, read: Professor Birch's Pokémon Research Laboratory.
A shiny golden cup rest upon a pallet in the centre of the large, circular, and black room. The cup seemed to emit a sort of light, which in turn kept the and only the centre illuminated; very slowly the boy tread towards it, his hand outstretched, it was close, he could feel its cool surface against his fingers -
“Wingull! Wingull! Wingull!” … Cracks of light had began to slowly break through ten-year-old Conan Ludwig’s window.
The boy had been very anxiously awaiting this day for quite a time now, like many others, he was anxious to begin his very own adventure with Pokémon.
Crankily the boy sat up in bed, hitting the switch to turn off his loud Wingull alarm clock; in the process he knocked it onto the floor. (He made a mental note to trash it later, just out of annoyance).
His brown hair was even messier than usual this morning, flattened against his head, but each strand pointed in different directions nearing the bottom, creating a sort of ‘wavy’ effect.
His eyes, although only narrowly opened and dark from previous sleep, glittered in the slowly expanding sunlight -
“Jynx, Jynx, Jynx, Jynx…!” Came a vibrant, feminine voice and a short dark figure burst into the room, her long blonde hair jiggling as she flew across the room towards the boy. “Jynx, Jynx!” The Jynx moved slowly towards him, her lips seemed to somehow stretch towards Conan. He could hear her usual Mwah sound which occurred whenever she attempted kissing anybody -
He had to endure this every morning until - “Jynx, m’dear?” A short, chubby old man appeared at the foot of
boy’s rather small bedroom, the man’s face was etched with wrinkles that seemed to tell his age, however, he always wore a very warm smile.
The Jynx quickly scattered over to the old man, he wasn’t actually much taller than the human-like Pokémon.
“Grandpa?” murmured Conan, eyes still half closed together with excess of sleep. “Yes, m’boy?” said the elderly man in a gentle, squeaky, but rather high-pitched voice. “Err-” Conan stuttered, rubbing away at his eyes until he could see clearly. “What time is it, Grandpa?” He asked almost absentmindedly, although it was a rather foolish question to ask, he had only, moments earlier been in the clear view of an alarm clock.
“Quarter to nine, m’boy.” said his Grandpa, having first tidied up Conan’s bed sheets, opened the improperly drew curtains, and returned his alarm clock up to it’s place on the cabinet beside Conan’s bed, Conan noticed that the Jynx had seemed to had vanished from the room entirely.
“Quarter to -” - “Grandpa! I should have been woke up earlier! I have to go in fifteen minutes!” Conan yelled, his voice was desperate, but also touched with slight annoyance. “But you were sleeping…I didn’t want to disturb you.” stuttered the elderly man, who was now thoroughly cleaning Conan’s wardrobe.
Gritting his teeth angrily, Conan pulled his pyjamas off with such brutality as he lobbed them across the room, his alarm clock came hurtling off the self once more. Conan redressed in his usual attire (having first shooed his grandfather out of the room); a pair of grey and black pants with over a dozen pockets, most of which he never made use of. And also a pair of plain white trainers, with various black markings in certain places although they were almost indistinguishable, the trainers were obviously worn and tattered. Also, he wore a black shirt, simple, over which he wore a bright green and orange sweater which seemed to bring the outfit together, and two new additions had been made to his complete his ‘Trainer’ image; his grandfather had recently bought him, a strap that clung to the strap of his backpack and allowed for Pokéballs to be attached for easy accessibility and efficiency. And also a grey backpack, tattered with the essential supplies if he expected to survive in his journeys, some underwear, and pyjamas, and food, and an sleeping bag (his favourite, it had the image of a large Plusle on it, dancing across a canvas of blue.), and also a number of other things.
“Five minutes to nine! You better hurry up, lad!" yelled his grandfather breathily from the kitchen, (Who was busy being assistant chef to his Jynx, whom was, on the contrary, not a very good chef at all, Conan never partook in any of her…creations.)
Conan hardly said a word to his grandfather before he shot out the front door, toppling over the cobbles clumsily due to the rate of his acceleration. He sprinted excitedly through Littleroot town, until finally a large whitewash building came into sight, a big sign erected just in front it of it, read: Professor Birch's Pokémon Research Laboratory.
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