Obvious exits:
North <N> leads to Old Macdonald's Farm.
South <S> leads to Overgrown Lands - Route 11: Off the Route.
West <W> leads to Field and Streams - Route 11: Orchards.
East <E> leads to Footbridge - Route 12: Junction.

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape. In the forest, the shade under the deep green leaves of the trees is welcome relief from the hot glare of the sun. While at the coast, the sea sparkles in the brilliant sunlight, the waves rolling merrily against the shore.

Navarone arrives from the south.
Navarone has arrived.

The day has long since hit its peak. Bit by bit, the temperature outside drops along with the sun. The island will still experience hours of sunlight, as the afternoon is not quite over. The pokemon of the world have started to settle back down into their homes, their daily hunting and gathering finished. Usually by now, one young Growlithe by the name is Peppy has long since taken back a Rattata or Pidgey to his home at the barn. Today, however, seems an exception; apparently, Peppy seems a little slow on the recognition that "procrastination just means you have to do it later". As he marches down the path, he looks rather depressed, as though he'd far, far rather be sleeping than out here doing work. Everything about him is drooping, from his ears to his head to his tail. He also seems to fail on the recognition that hunting will just take far longer if he's not aware of his surroundings. Dumb dog. Those that are particularly good at reading people and pokemon might notice that, to his credit, Peppy is apparently lost in thought about something - that might explain his preoccupation with the ground instead of the bushes hiding purple-furred bounty.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

The days seem much, much longer in summer, as the sun doesn't quite rest its laurels as often as it used to in the wintry months. While some Pokemon might enjoy the longer hours, there are some who detest it. If anything, light only makes you more visible than you already are: something that would severely affect a night hunter. Navarone, on the other hand, doesn't have that sort of logical preoccupation with the daylight hours, no; he simply hates the sunlight simply because of how brightly it shines down, bathing the island in rays of delicious, live-giving sunlight. Somehow, his recent attitudes have led him towards the conclusion that daylight is disgusting. Of course, that's just him. In anyone's eyes, the sunlight is a boon, something that makes sure that one doesn't have to deal with the harsh night so often, or the creatures that come with it. The grasses part slightly as a orange-furred firefox trudges on through the shrubbery, quite distant, in terms of thought, from this world. It doesn't look like he's looking for anything in particular, but you never quite know what he's thinking of.

Plop plop plop. Peppy's pace is slow and steady, and utterly ineffective when it comes to covering large amounts of terrain quickly. He really is taking his time, and his excursion is now better defined as a leisurely stroll than a hunt. The bloodthirsty predator stops for a moment, settling down on his haunches as he lifts his furry head to the sky and yawns, exposing his sharp, flesh-tearing canines. What a fearsome sight he is! His "rest" over, the fuzzball gets back up to all fours, cracking his head to the left, then to the right. Taking in a deep breath, he continues his journey, resuming his depressed, thoughtful state. He eventually approaches near Navarone, but so wrapped in his own mind is he that he doesn't hear the rustling in the bushes until he's only ten or twenty feet away. His head snaps up as his stance stiffens, assuming his infamous "Oh shoot I heard something now I'm scared" pose.

Peppy is not the only one wrapped up in his own mind. Navarone doesn't even notices that the Growlithe is some few yards away from him, so engrossed is he in his thoughts, that of which includes some slightly macabre ponderings. One of these manages to crack a smile on his muzzle; one of those slightly unnerving grins that, more often than not, scares others into defense, rather than warm up to him. Vulpix he may be, but there's nothing warm about his emotional aura. He continues wading through the bushes, quite unwary of his Growlithe friend just some few feet away. A close look would reveal that the Vulpix hasn't been eating well; through his summer coat his frame looks unnaturally light and frail, without the same health in his fur. Though it might just be his eating habits, it could just as easily be due to his negative-augmented nature that he has been assuming lately. If the Growlithe doesn't stop his impersonation of a pathetic hunter (though by far, he doesn't really have to impersonate at all), the Vulpix will just stroll leisurely by, head dipped low in thought, ears drooped and pointing forward in a dreary stupor.

Even after Navarone has revealed himself to Peppy, the Growlithe remains frozen in his awkward stance, though mostly because he's - you guessed it! - confused. The Growlithe's mind bursts into a race as he combs through his brain, struggling to determine one bit of memory that'll explain why this Vulpix seems so familiar. To a normal pokemon, the single eye would be a dead giveaway, but Peppy's not a normal pokemon by any means. Recognition of scent and sight eventually kick in, and, relaxing his position, Peppy proceeds to... peer at Navarone some more, only watching as the other fire type stumbles by, oblivous to the dog pokemon's presense. This is an interesting change in roles. <Uh,> arfs the pup, not quite certain if he should disturb Navarone's deep thinking. <... Hi, uh... uh, Vulpix!> Apparently, recognition of smell and form doesn't come with a name. Supposing Navarone doesn't do so first, Peppy will lessen the gap between him and his old friend by trotting towards the Vulpix, yipping and yapping all he needs to until the Vulpix actually pays him some mind.

The thoughts race on inside the Vulpix's head. Damned sunlight. If it weren't for the fact that winter is so unbearably cold, I would have enjoyed the longer night hours far more, he thinks to himself. Perhaps I should go have a meal or something. Go hunting, or something. It'd be interesting to find a live Rattata and make it plead for its pitiful existence while I figure out the best way to disembowe-- hmm? The train of thought grinds to a sudden halt as Navarone pulls the brakes on his own imagination. If anything, the call sounds oddly familiar, but obviously it's someone who doesn't know him (too well). Of course, he knows it's a Growlithe, but he wants little to do with them right now, so onward he goes. This would be a lot easier if it weren't for the fact that Peppy's trailing him and barking at the top of his voice. After a few feet, his blood starts to boil, and he spins on his back legs, pivoting round so that he stares the darned pup right in the face. <What. Do. You. /Want/?> An unusual amount of stress is placed on the last word, but maybe that's due to the fact that he's speaking through his teeth. His ivory fangs glint in the fading light, as his muzzle curls up into a snarl.

How curious it is to know that Navarone's thoughts totally clash with Peppy's! Now that seeing Navarone has clashed aside his previous thoughts, his mind is more along the lines of: Hey, it's that Vulpix! ....... I knew him. ..... He used to be at the barn. ..... Ahh, barn. ......... I hope the kids are okay. ...... I'm hungry. This thought process is even completed with Peppy glancing up at his forehead, smiling for a second with glee at the thought of finding a Rattata to eat soon. This bit of joy is fractured into a thousand pieces when Navarone whirls around, not to greet his ol' pal, not to ask him how life is, not to do anything friendly at all; no, Peppy gets a look that freezes him straight in his path. His body clenches tight, and he skids to a stop - it's a wonder he doesn't fall over right flat onto his face. Rocking back onto his haunches, Peppy peers wide-eyed at the Vulpix, mouth slightly agape, shocked into stupidity. After a moment of this unblinking paralyzation, the Growlithe's mouth twitches a couple times as the pokemon attempts to speak. Nothing comes out.

The firefox continues to stare at his companion, looking very much like the poster child for aggression. The snarl on his face is temporarily interrupted by a faint recognition, as his fangs settle back into his muzzle. Slowly, he rears down onto his haunches as he pieces together an assumption on who this Growlithe might be. It takes him a fairly short time-- the fact that he's in close proximity to the barn as well as bumping into a rather stupified puppy pokemon leads him to the conclusion that he's talking to <Peppy. Didn't see you. For a moment, I thought you were someone else.> He cracks his neck once, then quickly turns around to sift through and untangle his tails. Having done that, he will simply proceed to groom himself, licking the fur on the back of his paw and rubbing it into his untidy crop of headfur and cheeks. He makes little attempt to continue the conversation; it was Peppy who called him anyway, let him do the work.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.

The Vulpix word for '<Peppy>' calms the Growlithe down, but only slightly. Peppy shifts his weight from one side of his body to the other and back again, nervously settling into a tense, uncomfortable position on his rump. He will turn his head to the side, up, down, the other side, everywhere but to Navarone, except he will give the Vulpix an occasional glance, though if Navarone happens to notice he'll quickly shy away as though he wasn't doing anything in the first place. <... Uh... That's okay. I... uh... guess I can't be the only Growlithe you know, right?> Before giving Navarone the chance to refuse to dignify that with a response, Peppy proceeds to ask the Vulpix, still not looking at him except for the occasional flicker, <How... are you? I haven't seen you in a long time. You're looking...> Quick glance. Peppy's right cheek twitches, and he bites his teeth down, frowning as he directs his attention to the side again. <... Um, well.> The tone of voice just reeks of "<I'm lying, you look awful>". Peppy never was very good at hiding things.

The Vulpix doesn't seem to be taking his job of grooming very seriously at all. It's an almost lackadaisical manner in which he goes about this task, and as a result he doesn't really look very different from before. That said, grooming was never one of his strong points. He abandons his attempt to pretty himself up (ha-ha), and goes back to his earlier task of staring down the pup. It does the trick-- the pup strings his sentences together inconsistently, and the quick glances out of the corner of the Growlithe's eye tell Navarone that he /might/ be a little too intimidating for his own good. He relaxes a bit, taking a deep lungful of air, and exhaling it out again. He doesn't bother to answer the first question; Peppy of all pokemon should know that Navarone knows his family quite well. At Peppy's attempt to get the conversation going, he smirks. <I do look in the pink of health, do I now, Pep?> He tags a laugh on the end, somewhat maniacally tinged. <My health hasn't been the best as of late>, he corrects the Growlithe, <but I'm fine. How is ...Aurora? And the pups?>

Though he's far from feeling comfortable about the newfound coldness in his friend, Peppy does come a step closer to... "relief" when Navarone switches the conversation to Aurora and the puppies, a topic the Growlithe readily jumps upon. <They're great!> he woofs excitedly, almost panicked; he wants to avoid commenting further on the Vulpix's poor health as much as possible. <Really... great, um, they're getting real big now. Should be ready to start hunting soon, I think, if... uh, you know, I could get them out of the barn... Briska doesn't really want to go, but I could sneak some others out, but Aurora wants to come, but nobody can watch the kids, and either way I'm kind of scared, because I -really- want to do a good job and make sure they're good hunters, and... and...> At any point Navarone can butt in and shut the fuzzy one up, but even if he doesn't Peppy will trail off on his own, realizing that he's being a rambling idiot (as opposed to just a normal idiot).

Newfound? Hah. Perhaps the pup in front of him knows little of it, but coldness has been a part of Navarone for some time now, and the roots trace back to when he was still but a cub. Still, you could blame Peppy's forgetfulness in this situation. As he finally gets the pup going, he doesn't smile; odd behaviour, since the Vulpix has always thought well of Aurora and the pups. He finally summons up a flat smile, somewhat forced in origin, muc like the comment that follows. <That's good to hear.> He watches as the pup manages to get his brain going, his conversation gain momentum-- only to watch as the whole thing splutters and dies. Well, time to crank it up again. <I suppose you need a favor then, do you not?>, he butts in, quite precise in his timing. For some apparent reason, he managed to pay attention to some of his rambling.

Forgetfulness? Peppy's only perceived Navarone as a happy, easy-going guy; it's his ignorance if anything. Even after those weird 'what if Aurora left' conversations, Peppy's always seen Navarone as something as a friend to fall back, and this strikes him as something new. Navarone's smile and reply, uncaring and dull, cause Peppy to frown decisively, shifting his weight back and forth yet again. <A favor?> Peppy replies, his voice putting an emphasis on cheer, as if somehow he's peppy enough, Navarone's cold exterior will shatter, revealing the Navarone Peppy remembers. <I... uh... what did you mean? A favor?> If Peppy's hinting at something, acting ignorant in an attempt to get Navarone to make the offer, he's doing a great job; he really sounds like he doesn't know what the Vulpix is talking about.

Happy. Easy-going. Two words that probably don't sum up the Vulpix very well. Perhaps Peppy has never really remembered anything about the Vulpix at all-- it's as if he dreamt up the Navarone he thinks he knows. Just about everyone else has seen otherwise. <I just thought that you were trying to get at something, drop a hint or two. The pups are growing, right? And they're about to learn how to hunt; from you, probably.> He snickers at the thought. <But if you really didn't mean to ask a favor, then I won't say much more. I just thought that since you called out to me, you had something to ask of me.> He shifts to the side, his head turning to stare wistfully at the forests. <It's not like you would have called if you didn't>, Navarone adds, disdainfully.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

When Navarone snickers, perhaps Peppy doesn't pick up on the no-doubt semi-malicious (or at least mischievousness) in it, so the Growlithe himself starts to smile at that point. He does, however, wait patiently for Navarone to finish speaking before replying, for the first time actually looking at the Vulpix while he speaks. <N... no, I just saw you, and you were familiar, so I, uh, thought we could talk.> Navarone might not be able to pick it up; it's very light, in fact, and hardly expressed. If he's got a great sense of reading Growlithe tones of voice and body language, he might notice that Peppy - deliberately or not - put some emphasis on the thought, as though secretly suggesting that he thought they could and, respectively, now thinks they can't. Hrm. <But that's okay! No favors, I don't need anything. I mean, you're...> There's a definite pause here, and Peppy's mouth remains open as he sighs out of it, trying to lock on the right word. <... Um, busy, I guess.> That wasn't it.

Purple, gold, and vermillion clouds grace the western sky as the sun descends toward the west.

<You thought we could talk?> Another manic laugh. <Well. I suppose we could, but I doubt we'd have much to talk about. We don't have plenty in common, so to speak.> The Vulpix doesn't seem to recognize the fact that Pep had intentionally started the conversation out of the fact that he just wanted to have a chat-- as friends do. <To be truthful, I haven't been very occupied these days. Just mostly wandering around.. and thinking.> And most likely, about the best way to cause one of his prey to die out of immense pain rather than the preferred method of choking or neck-breaking or something like that. Grosteque little fellow, isn't he? <Say, have you seen.. umm..> Seemingly, he's trying to steer this conversation along. <.. that Ninetales?> And steer he does. Off a cliff.

And if Peppy knew the information about what actually happens in Navarone's head, he would not let the Vulpix come within 50 miles of his kids. Fortunately for the firefox, Peppy doesn't know this, and he nods innocently enough when Navarone mentions "thinking". <I've... been too busy to think,> Peppy woofs, a naive little smile forming on his face that compliments his shining green eyes well. It's not true by any means, since becoming a father has given Peppy far more worries and concerns than anything he could imagine, but it's still cute. <That... ... oh, her.> He speaks with an air of... not precisely neutrality, but with a mixture of coldness and friendliness, as though he doesn't quite know what to make of Streetwind himself. <She... uh... a while ago, maybe. Said she was sorry. Never saw her. Don't... really want to.> And Peppy shrugs his shoulders, throwing the ball into Navarone's court - and, apparently, hoping he whacks it right over the sidelines. Streetwind and him don't precisely mix.

The sun sets, the western clouds turning purple, red, and gold. It's hazy and warm.

The ball falls in his court, and the firefox lets it roll away. He hums thoughtfully, then he decides to start the ball rolling again. Rather than pass it back to Peppy, he start to juggle his thoughts around, thinking aloud, not quite wanting or caring if Peppy were to respond. <It's good that she's not around here. I've been hearing things about a strange pokemon lately, and it sounds quite horrifying. It could be her, but then again, maybe it isn't. I don't exactly look forward to meeting that pokemon, either way.> He pauses, taking a moment to stare at the barn, as well as the sun dipping into the horizon, almost willing it to set faster. <Sometimes I wonder why I even went out to help her in the first place. She's been nothing but trouble, little else. But ah well, you can't change a thin--> He turns around whilst speaking, and suddenly comes face to face with the pup once more. <Oh. You're still here.> Forgetfulness must be rather contagious.

Peppy just kind of blinks while Navarone talks to himself. He takes in breaths at certain points while Navarone, but the Vulpix rambles on; Peppy can't find a place to hop in until the very end. <Y... yeah, I'm still here,> the pup woofs, a little annoyance creeping into his voice no doubt against his will. <But I don't think she's it. I hear it was a really, really big monster! Like really, really...> And with a "Grrrth!" of a grunt, Peppy springs up on his hind legs, balancing himself on two paws for a moment or two before coming back down onto all fours, all the while grrring and growling. <Mean and big and, and, and there's always blood in its mouth!> No matter what Navarone's expression is at this point, Peppy will go on to ask, <What have you heard about it?> Determined to keep the conversation off of Streetwind, that he is.

The orange-red sun sinks below the western horizon, leaving a darkening tapestry of purple and red-gold clouds behind it.

<Little. What I heard, is slightly different. This thing is fast. I mean /fast/. Moves so quick he'd get you in an instant before you even felt fear stirring in you. And for some reason, it likes killing. A lot.> Despite how he speaks, he sounds more impressed with this so-called monster than terrified. A creature as tiny as he is should have more fear flowing in his veins. <I suppose my version fits with Streetwind's image better than yours. Still, she's her own monster.> He cackles minutely, shaking his head left to right, stirring the fur on his neck and head. He raises his head to stare at the sky momentarily. Almost night. A smile lights up on his face, though by no means is it a cheerful one. <Speaking of which, you said that you saw Streetwind a while ago.. or something to that effect. Did she say anything?>

And there the conversation goes, back to that hell demon. Peppy is perfectly content talking about bloodthirsty savage beasts that take pleasure in consuming you alive, but no, not about rude Ninetales. Peppy shakes his head back and forth, wondering why his hints to drop it aren't going through. This is odd, being on the opposite side of the spectrum; usually it's Peppy who just doesn't get it. <Months ago. Said sorry she endangered our lives. Glad I forgive her. That's it. No more.> She said no more, or no more on Streetwind? How cryptic this Growlithe is. Instead of moving off onto some topic in the attempts of drawing them away from the Ninetales, Peppy sits there on his rear, his fuzzy face crumpled up into an angry frown. If this conversation about Streetwind is going to end, it's going to be by Navarone, and given the look on Peppy's face, it has better be soon!

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

The frown is ignored. For all of the Vulpix's superiority to Peppy in terms of intelligence, Navarone is about as smart as a rock when it comes to everyone else's emotions, notably so, when he's in a bad mood. <I see.>, he says, quite simply. <You don't look like you forgive her, though. You still seem to have a grudge, or two.> He stops there, and suddenly, there's a thoughtful look on his face, and for once, there's something different in those eyes of his. No longer do they hold threats of murder or pain; rather, they seem pained themselves. Sorrowful. <Y'know... I forgot to pass a message that she told me to tell you once..> A soft sigh. <She told me to tell you, that.. She would never be able to repay her life debt to you, and Aurora. She was sorry about it. That's about it.> He turns to walk away, not saying anything, not even a goodbye. He'd rather not have anything to do with an upset Peppy, not right now.

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

Peppy rolls his eyes quite overexaggerantly when Navarone mentions a grudge, and the only thing that stops him from speaking up right then and there is the fact that he can't think up a witty enough retort in time. The pup gets interested when Navarone seems to change, his eye now showing something very... different. And he explains to Peppy something that Streetwind mentioned but did not tell the Growlithe about last time they met. And is Peppy moved? Sure. Just not in a wave of sympathy. <You're right,> he woofs, no bit of softness in his voice. <She won't.> And though Navarone may be attempting to leave, the Growlithe stays right where he is, resisting the urge to make a move until Navarone is out of sight.

The firefox trudges along, not really caring about what Peppy intends to retort with. That is, until he decides to cast a certain remark towards him. He pauses mid-step, and turns his head around to look at the pup, glaring at him. <It's not hard to see why.> What he means by that remark, only he knows, but just as quickly as he says it, he turns away and continues onward, his destination unknown. Perhaps, there will come a day when Peppy might change his mind about Streetwind, or maybe his attention will drift back to his mate and their pups, normally, as he tries to forget the memories of the Ninetales. Sadly, to forget isn't an option for the Vulpix, his steps and footfalls nearly as heavy as the troubles that weigh down his heart. Streetwind had once warned him of the dangers of siding with her, helping her, but it is only to late for him to realize how dangerous it can get. He can already feel himself drifting further away, away from the home and warmth of Assisi that he once knew, back into the dark shell that was his life before it-- and there's little he can do to stop it.

Peppy does not respond to Navarone. Likely he has some idea of what the Vulpix is suggesting, but he does not seem to care to think too heavily about it. If Peppy really was implying for a favor, his chance is shot, but what could he do? Navarone would just keep bringing up Streetwind again and again, and Peppy comforts himself with the fact that the Vulpix brought this none-too-cheerful farewell upon himself. Peppy doesn't move until Navarone's far from view; in fact, even after that, his rump remains planted on the ground. It's not until a few minutes of silence later than Peppy finally lets his head drop. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head back and forth a few times. <... Damn it,> he growls under his breath, a term nobody - probably not even himself - has heard this Growlithe utter. And with that, the pup slowly gets back up to all four paws and, with one last longing glance in Navarone's direction, turns around and starts the long trudge back home.