Obvious exits:
North <N> leads to Overgrown Lands - Route 11: Off the Route.

Briska has connected.

Flame has connected.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west, along with the wind. The sunlight on the snow is dazzling, and it gleams on the ice. In the forest, blowing snow drifts against the trunks of the trees. While at the coast, the sea is bright but cruel and cold looking in the sunlight, the waves gentle and the whitecaps small.

The sun has long been past high noon, and it gets cooler by the second. Supposing "cooler" is an appropriate word, as a more accurate one would be "freezing". The wind is powerful outside today, and the barn, though decent protection against snow, is useless against the chilling gusts that swirl through the wood, messing up fur and picking up straw. It's a perfect day to just snuggle up with somebody warm and snooze the day away, but apparently, that's not what's on everybody's mind. Somebody else seems to be more intent upon eating than staying warm, as is suggested by his big belly, his limp tongue, and his lazy grin. Peppy the Growlithe seems to have had a great day on the job today, as only a few feet away from him lay not one but *two* halfway devoured Rattatas. It's been forever since the dog pigged out... and he seems to have made up for it in spades.

Outside the farm winter is slowly coming to an end, and spring is creeping back onto the landscape. Sunlight gleams brightly on the pearly white ice and shimmering snow, bird pokemon are beginning to return as the cold begins to ebb away, and small flashes of green can be seen now and again, peeking out from their hideaways underneath the ground and layers of snow. Wild pokemon scurry along the ground, dashing behind the safety of leafless trees, and a few of the plants that haven't lost their greenery to the severe cold. The heavy wind blows past the growth, and pulls a few blades of grass from the ground, ripping up dying weeds by their roots and tossing them into the air, sending them on an airborne journey. While the freezing temperature outside might be good incentive for snuggling, the bite of the cold isn't persistent enough in getting Flame to be cuddly with anyone. Instead the black furred pup sits in his usual corner, his expressive emeralds open and alert, and his ears pricked and attentive. One of his front paws is crossed over the other, and he thinks to himself as he watches the goings ons of the barn with his usual intensity. <No fair.> he grumbles, looking at the Rattata, and longing to hunt once again.

Briska is a simple little puppy, and at this moment he's using the most of his brain power. To do what, one might wonder? ..Well, it's not entirely clear. It doesn't even involve playing with his siblings, which is something a bit uncommon for the pup (though, considering he finished off a fun game of 'burrow into the straw the fastest' with Karen not an hour ago, he's not lacking in that activity). He's toddling in the straw a few feet from the wall, staring intently at the ground by his form. A particularly harsh gust hits the barn, and Briska peers at the straw as it lifts upwards, the wind ruffling the large poof of his tail. "Grr..the," the orange-furred pup mutters to himself, moving over the sniff the formerly wind-tossed straw. It doesn't /smell/ any different...but something about it has to be different if it moved, right?

Peppy most likely wants to reply to Flame. And in any other circumstance, he probably would perk up an ear, smile at his son, and calm him. Unfortunately, right now, Peppy seems only inclined to draw flies. Idly gnawing on a bone, the Growlithe seems to have focused more of his attention on that than he has on Briska. Aurora, wisely, has retired to bed, sensing that her mate's not going to be in the mood for talking, more like lying there. Sniff, sniff. Peppy lifts his head slightly (though not too much, as it involves too much effort) as he goes through a quick check of the puppies, making sure they're not causing trouble. His green eyes stray over the little Growlithes, each of the pokemon absorbing about a second of his time. All, that is, except for Briska. Peppy's black nose twitches, and he raises his head higher, though not without a "Grrr-owth!" of a grunt. He separates his jaw to speak, thinks twice, snaps it shut, and continues to watch his son in silence.

Flame turns his gaze from the Rattata to his younger brother, and he cants his head to the side quizzically when he spots Briska sniffing at the straw in such a bewildered fashion. Hay can't be that confusing can it? Keeping his eye on his sibling a moment or two more, the puppy opens his mouth wide, yawning broadly, flashing his tongue and a few rows of pointed milk teeth. Things can get awfully dull when you're cooped up in a barn with nothing to do. Slowly, he stands to his feet, and he stretches the sleep from his muscles, stretching out his hind legs first, and thrusting his rump into the air as he pulls the muscles in his back and forequarters, dragging his claws into the wooden floor beneath him. Smacking his lips as he rids the last of the stiffness from his body, he saunters over to where Briska is, and he plops down beside his brother, staring at the straw his sibling is sniffing with such vigor. He remains silent a few moments, watching Briska's every move, and keeping his attention on the other Growlithe, moving it to the hay every now and again. <What'cha doi'n?> he asks, standing on all fours and thrusting his own nose into the hay, trying to figure out what's so exciting about it. To him, it looks like a pile of dried straw and nothing more.

Briska's head jerks upward when his dad grunts, ears flicking to his pa. After a second or two of looking his father's way, Briska turns back to his task. A few more pieces of straw flutter in the barn, this time a few feet from the voluminously furred puppy, the yellow strands settling to the ground undisturbed once the wind subtly changes direction. Briska's eyes jerk to the straw, his gaze as immovable as a stone as he looks the straw over. Now his eyes narrow and his head tilts to the left side - though an ear flicks to Flame when the dog approaches. "Rrr?" he questions...of the dead plant matter that had previously moved. He lifts his lip when the plants don't get up and answer back, the slightest hint of frustration showing. "Ow," he wuffs, tail drooping slightly. This 'wind' thing is complicated. However, now he has pack matters to attend to. Briska turns to Flame. And blinks, brow furrowing in confusion. Then he looks to his left, then his right, then takes a second to look behind him. Oh. Flame's talking to him! He's used to Flame talking to mommy or daddy, not him. "Rowli!" Briska yips, grinning broadly at his brother, tail perking and wagging. ..Flame also might not talk to him because Briska isn't the best conversationalist around.

Uh oh! The Rockets are scheming! Better save than sorry! (Saving)

Peppy is perfectly content to watch Briska and his curious little inspection of the straw, especially since it involves using hardly any energy at all. He does, however, frown slightly when Flame comes sauntering along. His body stiffens, from his ears to the tail, almost as if feeling slightly threatened. Now, Peppy's been trying to be nicer to Flame (really! He has!), but the black pup's presence is just looking to stir up trouble. "Rrrr..." he growls very, very softly to himself as he (none too pleasantly) pulls himself into a more ready stance, teeth clenched and face hard and determined, as though it's a long and ardeous chore. He focuses back on the puppies just in time to see Briska turn back to the straw. The corners of the adult Growlithe's mouth pull back into a warm smile, and he opens his trap to speak to Briska. Again, he snaps it shut once he sees Flame. To Peppy, the question is not weather or not a fight will start, but, rather, how long Flame will take to provoke his brother.

Flame, conversing with his own kin? Impossible! Maybe Peppy's little talk, that show of affection, had kindled some warmth in his cold and unfeeling heart. Perhaps, the loner is ready to make some friends with his family members! Briska's lighthearted reply carries little meaning, and the impatient Growlithe pulls his nose from the straw, dubbing his brother's excitement uncalled for and frivolous. Sitting back on his haunches again, he regards his brother levelly, his gaze a mix of indifference and disgust. The one time he tries to get a conversation going, his brother has to sit there and yip like an idiot. He sighs in agitation, rolling his eyes at Briska's hyperactive personality. Well, if he -has- to be in the company of his brother every now and again, perhaps he should attempt to educate him, as it appears Peppy hasn't taught him much about wind yet. Standing back up, and trotting back to the straw, a look of determination on his canine features, Flame woofs for Briska to follow him. <Come' ere.> he ruffs, his voice losing its richness for one of gruff impatience. Crouching down on all fours, he purses his lips together like a kid blowing a bubble, and he blows the straw, pushing a small pile of it forward. <See?> he inquires, blowing on the straw again, and hoping that his dim-witted brother will catch on to the idea that he is trying to convey.

Briska's excitement is for the reason it usually is - the pup loves his family, and perhaps he can even tell that Flame isn't someone he associates with too regularly. This is good, quality brother-bonding time. Even when Flame's eyes frost over with negative emotions; Briska's head does tilt slightly in confusion and his grin shrink just a bit, but the smile is still on his face and love dances through his green eyes. Flame's gruff tone causes Briska's ears to flatten closer to his head, and for a second he hesitates, but he soon follows Flame, leaning in close to avidly watch his brother. The black puppy's demonstration forces a confused "Ii--?" from Briska, but he cuts himself off as soon as the straw flies, courtesy of his brother. His ears perk forward and he frowns. "Iiii.." he murmurs thoughtfully. He still appears a bit confused, though, and he glances to his brother as if asking him to explain more.

So far, no bites, no baps, no whapping, no pouncing, no scratching, no general unnecessary attacking on Flame's part. Peppy blinks, that fatherly smile faltering slightly. His tail ceases wagging, content now to droop over and nearly touch the floor. A chill runs down the Growlithe's spine, sending his orange fur jutting up on end. Is he cold, or is it something else? Peppy gives the Rattata a flicker of attention, as though maybe it's giving him hallucinations. Or maybe he's dreaming. The pup is silent for a couple moments. His green eyes roll up at his forehead as he realizes what he must do. Get up. And indeed, it's no easy task, given his stuffed belly and lazy attitude, but nobody ever said being a father was an easy task. Grunting, growling, and groaning all the way, Peppy pushes with all his might, his forearms practically wobbling with the effort, and inch by inch gets up to all four paws. His teeth are clenched the whole while. That is the -last- time he consumes four times his body weight in one sitting. (And this time, he means it!)

Sitting back up, the dark furred puppy watches Briska intently, eager to see if his lesson has had any effect on his brother, hoping that something will click, that somewhere in his simple mind the other Growlithe will become enlightened and understand why the straw had moved. Flame's lips are pressed tightly against his maw, and he tries to fight off the disappointment that comes with Briska's lack of understanding. <Hmmmph.> he grumbles under his breath, gritting his teeth to contain the anger that is welling up inside him. A breath of air is sucked in between pursed lips, and he lets it out in the form of an agitated sigh, scratching at the ground with his back leg, and pinning his own ears against his head in a show of pure impatience. <Okay,> he hisses, suppressing a snarl that threatens to burst out at any second. This simple task is turning out to be more of a frustrating chore than he had first predicted. Somewhere in the depths of his soul, he dips into his reserves, and he musters up some patience to deal with this annoying task. Leaning forward, he blows on Briska's tail, and then he blows onto the hay a second time. The movement that the tail makes, and the hay makes is relatively similar. <Wind...move...stuff...> he explains slowly, half out of his own difficulty with communication, and half to help Briska understand. Will he be able to make the connection?

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west, along with the wind. The sunlight on the snow is dazzling, and it gleams on the ice.

Briska knows about being able to blow straw. He's done that before. But the wind doesn't come from the breath of any pokemon in the barn. And pokemon are the only things able to create wind, in Briska's limited experience. Hence the problem. The solution? Well, Flame tries to explain that. Briska's green eyes flick to his brother's ears when they flatten, his own ears lower when Flame hisses. He flinches in surprise when Flame blows on his tail, staring at the straw his brother moves next as if his life depended on this information. He looks to his tail, then to the straw (yes, he knows pokemon breath can move things, but the wind doesn't come from a pokemon! the problem still persists!) before turning to the clever one. More talking. How helpfu--wait! Briska's ears go up. Talking. His jaw drops slightly. It all makes sense now! Flame is trying to get him to talk. Now, Briska has no idea what Flame just said, but he's going to prove to his brother that his brain can move his mouth. He puffs up his chest proudly and parrots back Flame's words, in an attempt at the same tone. <W..Wii..iiind... ... moooo...stuh.> Briska frowns momentarily before his face bursts into cheer and he adds the final phomeme: <Ff.> His tail wags as if wagging is going out of style.

Do Peppy's ears deceive him? Something is definitely suspicious here. Not only is Flame not hurting Briska, but he's actually going out of his way to help his brother. Peppy doesn't know whether to be filled with pride or suspicion. He takes in a deep breath of the crisp air through his nose, smiling slightly as his chest expands. It goes well with his full stomach. Letting it out in a loud sigh, the Growlithe shakes his head, the fluffy tuft on the top of his head wagging back and forth as he does, before he starts forward. His pace is slow and lazy. He's only halfway there, however, before he comes to a stop, one paw remaining suspended in the ground, eyes widening slightly, his entire body frozen in place. <... Briska?> he asks quietly, a whisper that carries on the wind. Then, a little louder, a little more excited, <Briska, was that you?>

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

Briska's posture, facial expressions and movements all seem to say that his brother understands him. Has he really succeeded? Could it be that his lesson has actually produced fruit? Flame listens to his brother mimic his words, and while he doesn't pronounce them quite as clearly and understandably as he does, Flame gets the gist of his siblings drawn out sentence. Yes, maybe Briska has finally learned something! Flame smiles briefly, proud not with Briska, but with himself for having taught him so well. Unfortunately, that frown quickly fades when he spies the unintelligent expression on Briska's face, and he spots the frequent wagging of his tail. Lifting up a paw, he face palms himself, and mutters something unintelligible under his breath. He's losing his patience fast, and Briska is quickly wearing away at his will power. If he has to take much more of this, he's going to slap him across the face for sure! <Yes,> he agrees with the pup's parroting, lying down and putting his face between his paws. The little guy is hopeless. Rolling onto his side, he watches as Peppy heads in their direction, and he nods to his father's question. <Wasn't me.> he grumbles, letting his cheek rest on the wooden floor as he watches an ant crawl across the floor. Squish! Flame smashes the ant with his paw, and shuts his eyes. What a day.

While Briska may be looking at Flame, his mind isn't on the lord of darkness at all. The fuzzy one has more. And he barks it loud and clear with a grin on his face, his wags so powerful that his tail slaps his haunches. That small attempt at talking has burst a dam in the pup's mind, and all the words his memory stored up are trickle onto his tongue. <Brisga! Fame! Dusk! Kayen! Dagaba! Stop! No! Imakay! Caaaarrrreful!> And now, the coup de grace. Application of his knowledge. <F-Fame!> Briska yaps, motioning with his head to his brother. He spins around, peering this way and that before finding his father's form (yes, his gaze passes Peppy by a few times before finally noticing him, but give the kid a break - he's excited). <Poppa!> he belts, his green eyes dancing. Well, it's easy to see who he learned that word from; only Dusk calls their father that. Now Briska's tongue dangles out of his mouth and his well of words dries up, his fluffy chest heaving. Wow. That was exhausting.

Uh oh! The Rockets are scheming! Better save than sorry! (Saving)

Peppy remains still, that halfway bewildered look still evident on his face, his paw still floating around in the air. His chest expands and deflats at a far slower rate, as though peering at Briska consumes so much of his concentration that he forgets how to breathe properly. The realization sinks in, and, relaxing his rigidness a little, Peppy begins to grow the tiniest smile on his face, and it only expands further and further as Briska expells the names of every word he can possibly say. The father's tail is wagging furiously, his own excitement pretty easy to see as he breathes faster and faster. <B-B-Briska!> Peppy's practically at a loss for words as he watches his son bark and yip and -actually make sense-! This is the greatest day of his life! <... Briska, you're... -talking-! Saying... -things-! Your first words!> The pride is so obvious in his tone and in his eyes, even the young ones will be able to detect it. Peppy doesn't think to approach his son or anything, however. That requires -not- being shocked.

Flame watches Briska, and his bottom jaw drops at his sudden flood of speech comes as a surprise, and for once Flame is the one that's baffled, not the other way around. Of course, Flame doesn't notice that his brother is talking relatively for the first time, and that he's reciting all of the puppy's names. No. You know what he does notice? <No, not Fame.> he calls to Briska, unsympathetic of the tired pup's exhaustion, <F-> he pauses here, drastically flicking out his tongue as he makes an "L" sound, <Flame.> he corrects the puppy with annoyance, irritated by the fact that while he can get his stupid sister's name right, he can't pronounce -his- name properly. While the pride is filling Peppy's eyes, and likewise restricting his movement, this is not the case for Peppy. All this mushy stuff is too much, and he's not really in the mood to be surrounded by all this much longer. Getting up on all fours, he shakes himself off and begins padding for the quiet seclusion of his corner. This is probably going to be the last time he tries explaining anything to Briska.

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

Briska looks at his father, bouncing a bit on his paws to match his wriggling tongue. At Peppy's words, Briska squirms from back to front, pieces of his head-puff flopping on either side as his head moves. And then he spins in a circle and yips joyfully, because his body just. Can't. Contain. The. Excitement! Briska stops his Dakota impersonation a few seconds after Flame speaks to him (did he hear his brother's command from on high? Hmm...). He slows to a stop and peers around, looking woozy but still upbeat. All this praise from his father is making Briska generous with bestowing familial affection (not that he isn't normally). His tongue, ready to slurp Flame's silver cheek. He begins to chase after his brother...but fortunately for Flame, Briska falls to the ground. He's a /bit/ more dizzy than it appeared. The little pup blinks. "Row?" he murmurs, raising his head and blinking in surprise. After all, he doesn't know the word for 'what?' yet.

Well, Flame's reply sort of kills the scene, and Peppy's glare darts over to the black pup, who has already began to head back to the corner. The sight of movement out of the corner of Peppy's eye, however, pulls his attention back to Briska, and the adult Growlithe... blinks at what he sees. Briska lying on the ground, a blinking heap of fur. The larger dog snorts out of his nose, an amused sound. He approaches his son slowly, head very slightly lowered, and one he's close enough to the little puppy, he will lower his head very low to the ground, resting his chin on his paws if he has to. <You okay, Briska?> Whether the answer is yes or no, Peppy will almost immediately follow it up with a much more excited, <Aurora's going to be so happy for you! -I'm- happy for you!> Should Briska allow it, Peppy will attempt to give the puppy an affectionate slurp up on his cheek, and should the puppy not have gotten up on his own by then, will lean over him, and attempting to grab him by the scruff of his neck with his teeth, lifting him back up to all four paws.

Flame has disconnected.

Using 'yes' or 'no' to answer a question? Hey now, let's not try to explode poor Briska's mind! The little puppy looks up at his dad, his tongue slipping out of his mouth and his lips lifting in a smile, as he's a bit too tired for an all out grin. His tail thumps against the straw he'd been so preoccupied with before - wind gusts through the barn and Briska doesn't even notice it. His eyes are fixed on his father's, and they are bottomless pits filled with a sparkling mixture of awe, gratitude and caring. The slurp is given by Peppy, and Briska barks in pleased surprise. He begins to get up, but he moves a bit slowly (to be fair, his feet let him down a few minutes ago), so Peppy will likely help him to his paws. Briska looks at the ground for a second, before craning his head upwards to stare at his father. The furry pup opens his mouth and inhales. "Lii," Briska woofs softly. What, he forgot Peppy's name already? Maybe he just doesn't realize now would be a perfect time to say it. He's new to this speaking thing. And he also doesn't know the word for 'love'.

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

Dad is more than happy to help Briska up, and though the little puppy's comment isn't something Peppy can actually translate, he at least has some idea of what his son's trying to say. Peppy lifts his head back up to a more comfortable position now, looking aaaall the way down at Briska, smiling the whole while. <There'll be plenty of time for talking later,> he woofs, his tone of voice understanding and very warm. And something takes him over as he watches the little Growlithe there, struggling to speak, his eyes so bright and charming and... innocent. And Briska might not know the word, but Peppy sure does. <Love ya, Briska,> he woofs, now a little more quietly. The fur on his face begins to blow slightly in the breeze, the white furs tickling his nose. He strips his green eyes away from the little one to peer at the door. His ear flickers in annoyance. He turns back to Briska, lifting his chin slightly. Perhaps he's looking to see if the puppy is cold as the night sets down outside.

Uh oh! The Rockets are scheming! Better save than sorry! (Saving)

Briska is good at noticing body language. It's how he's been communicating all this time, and how he likely will in the future. He knows the names of his siblings, the titles of his parents and a few words that his parents have told their pups repeatedly. There's still so much more that he has to learn. He smiles at Peppy's warm voice, his tail flopping in a wag that's rapidly losing energy. His ears perk towards his father when his name is mention. <Brisga,> he repeats softly. The breeze spikes and ruffles the fur around Briska's face. He blinks. And turns his head towards the door, eyes narrowed. ... Hmm. Wind. The door. Wind. Briska would follow up on these thoughts, were it not for the yawn that cracks his jaws open wide for five whole seconds. They shut with a snap and the puppy looks to his father, and then to the corner where the Growlithe family usually sleeps. He smiles once again, and this time it is a dopey, sleepy smile.

A cold wind blows from the west, driving charcoal clouds before it and blotting out the stars in isolated patches overhead. The air is clear and elsewhere the stars shine brightly.

Peppy ignores the cold for a few moments as Briska repeats his name, and that proud fatherly smile reemerges on the dog's face. <That's right,> he replies softly, tail swish-swish-swishing happily. <That's you.> Briska's long yawn, unfortunately, was apparently another one of those Peppy genes he received, for he, perhaps inspired by his son's actions, also raises his head high to the ceiling and stretches his mouth wide, eyes squinting shut, giving off a great big yawn that lasts even longer than little Briska's. It's the domino effect. As Peppy starts to trot back to his family, making sure the puppy follows, he swears he can hear a couple of the other pokemon yawning themselves, but Peppy, only now aware of his tiredness, can only grin slightly. Making sure all five pups are safe, sound, and sleeping, he paces around in a circle a couple times to prepare for sleep. It's something he hasn't done for months; maybe his full belly reminded him of it. Whatever the case, it's not long before Peppy himself has curled up into a ball, and he's fast asleep only moments later.