- 1023
- #1
'Hey Mom, safe and sound,'
The sound of pen on parchment mingled with the slow push and pull of the nearby waves. It was a familiar, comforting sound. One of his favorites, really. The young man smiled as he wrote the first line of his letter back home. He always led with that, safe and sound, just like his father had taught him—right to the point, concise, succinct. Farren raised his piercing blue eyes from his page and looked out onto the distant horizon, where the sun was beginning to set on his first day here in Nauwill. A small, low growl from beside him drew his attention, and, looking at the small mound of sand beside him, he watched with amusement as a tiny reptilian nose released a sigh of contentment. His new partner was enjoying the sand, still quite warm from the day's sun. The auburn-haired man chuckled and returned to his letter.
'It's better than I imagined. From what I've learned so far, nearly the entire island is unexplored. And from what little has been found, I can tell you, save these letters and I bet you'll have a great adventure book by the time I come back! They gave me a Pokemon, Mom, a Totodile. I've named her Brook. As you can see, she's nothing like the Johtoan variation.'
He continued on, scratching away at his letter, filling the creamy paper with details of his new home. He recounted the meeting where he officially acquired his job as an explorer, glossing over the mountains of boring paperwork and highlighting the ease of his decision over which starter to choose. The Torchic had been adorable, with its thick coat of fluffy feathers and its ornery attitude, and the Bulbasaur was mysterious with its fae-like antennae and strange misty bulb, but ultimately, the water spoke to him, just as it always had. He wrote of the Enrichment Center, the not-daycare where the starters were bred, and the helpful people there. He told her of his dorm room, simple now, but he and his mother both knew that soon enough it would be cluttered with the random things he was likely to find about the island. Now that he had space, for a 300ft dorm room was still larger than the cabin he had been living in for the past ten years, he wrote about perhaps framing his feather collection. They would make for a beautiful display, he mused to his mother, especially if there are new feathered Pokemon to be discovered here. He put the end of his pen between his lips and thought as Brook's steady, sleeping breaths rumbled gently beside him. He would have to find someone who had received a Torchic for their starter and ask for some. Trade, if they would prefer. He always had something for barter.
He let his letter rest in his lap and, pen bouncing against his bottom lip, he leaned back, pushing his long fingers into the sand behind him. He would have to make friends. He would be able to make friends. He grinned to himself. How long had it been? Ten years he supposed since he'd left behind Seafolk Village, left behind his childhood friends. His bright blue eyes closed and for a moment, he could feel the salt-worn boards of the floating town's piers beneath his feet, feet much smaller than they are now. There was a pang, an echo of a dull, faded pain deep inside his chest.
Farren sat back up, bringing himself back to the present, back to the sounds of Nauwill's first settlement rumbling in the distance behind him. He took the pen from his mouth and returned it to the paper. He would not write about that, about missing home. No point in wasting ink on something like that, he thought. Instead, he would fill this letter with hope and excitement, both two large feelings that were welling up inside of him. The thrill of the beginning of a new chapter in his life. The hope of finding new friends and, maybe even putting down roots of some kind. Doubtful, but the thought was still there. There were so many possibilities. Maybe he would discover a brand new Pokemon. Or maybe his expedition notes would be published and used for PokeDex research. He would leave his mark on this region in some way, of that he was sure.
'Don't worry, mom, I won't forget you in my excitement. No adventure will keep you from my thoughts. I send you my love and hope to see you again soon.'
He signed the letter with a bit of flourish and blew gently on the shining black ink, watching with satisfaction as it dried beneath his eyes. With the letter done, he folded it into thirds and reached for his satchel, looking up to the sky as he did so. He still had a few minutes of light left. He pulled out a sketchbook with filled with heavy paper and bound in soft leather as well as a small box of pencils and got to work, finishing up the work he had started earlier that day. Once completed, the letter would include two sketches; one of Brook and the other of the slow-rising town along the shoreline, drawn from his father's boat earlier that day, each signed and dated. He gathered the drawings and the folded letter and put them into the sketchbook for safety. He'd seal the letter back at his dorm.
The sun hesitated on the edge of the horizon now. The darkening sky was laced with the sharp, bright gold edges of the lingering clouds. Far above, a few of the first few stars had begun to light up the evening sky. Farren smiled and looked down at the slowly shifting mound of sand beside him. He gently let his long fingers brush the fine grains of sand away, exposing the rough scales of Brook's snout. She shook herself off and raised her head, looking up at him with those jewel-like green eyes, waiting, expected.
"Come on, girl. Let's head on home, yeah?"
1022w
The sound of pen on parchment mingled with the slow push and pull of the nearby waves. It was a familiar, comforting sound. One of his favorites, really. The young man smiled as he wrote the first line of his letter back home. He always led with that, safe and sound, just like his father had taught him—right to the point, concise, succinct. Farren raised his piercing blue eyes from his page and looked out onto the distant horizon, where the sun was beginning to set on his first day here in Nauwill. A small, low growl from beside him drew his attention, and, looking at the small mound of sand beside him, he watched with amusement as a tiny reptilian nose released a sigh of contentment. His new partner was enjoying the sand, still quite warm from the day's sun. The auburn-haired man chuckled and returned to his letter.
'It's better than I imagined. From what I've learned so far, nearly the entire island is unexplored. And from what little has been found, I can tell you, save these letters and I bet you'll have a great adventure book by the time I come back! They gave me a Pokemon, Mom, a Totodile. I've named her Brook. As you can see, she's nothing like the Johtoan variation.'
He continued on, scratching away at his letter, filling the creamy paper with details of his new home. He recounted the meeting where he officially acquired his job as an explorer, glossing over the mountains of boring paperwork and highlighting the ease of his decision over which starter to choose. The Torchic had been adorable, with its thick coat of fluffy feathers and its ornery attitude, and the Bulbasaur was mysterious with its fae-like antennae and strange misty bulb, but ultimately, the water spoke to him, just as it always had. He wrote of the Enrichment Center, the not-daycare where the starters were bred, and the helpful people there. He told her of his dorm room, simple now, but he and his mother both knew that soon enough it would be cluttered with the random things he was likely to find about the island. Now that he had space, for a 300ft dorm room was still larger than the cabin he had been living in for the past ten years, he wrote about perhaps framing his feather collection. They would make for a beautiful display, he mused to his mother, especially if there are new feathered Pokemon to be discovered here. He put the end of his pen between his lips and thought as Brook's steady, sleeping breaths rumbled gently beside him. He would have to find someone who had received a Torchic for their starter and ask for some. Trade, if they would prefer. He always had something for barter.
He let his letter rest in his lap and, pen bouncing against his bottom lip, he leaned back, pushing his long fingers into the sand behind him. He would have to make friends. He would be able to make friends. He grinned to himself. How long had it been? Ten years he supposed since he'd left behind Seafolk Village, left behind his childhood friends. His bright blue eyes closed and for a moment, he could feel the salt-worn boards of the floating town's piers beneath his feet, feet much smaller than they are now. There was a pang, an echo of a dull, faded pain deep inside his chest.
Farren sat back up, bringing himself back to the present, back to the sounds of Nauwill's first settlement rumbling in the distance behind him. He took the pen from his mouth and returned it to the paper. He would not write about that, about missing home. No point in wasting ink on something like that, he thought. Instead, he would fill this letter with hope and excitement, both two large feelings that were welling up inside of him. The thrill of the beginning of a new chapter in his life. The hope of finding new friends and, maybe even putting down roots of some kind. Doubtful, but the thought was still there. There were so many possibilities. Maybe he would discover a brand new Pokemon. Or maybe his expedition notes would be published and used for PokeDex research. He would leave his mark on this region in some way, of that he was sure.
'Don't worry, mom, I won't forget you in my excitement. No adventure will keep you from my thoughts. I send you my love and hope to see you again soon.'
He signed the letter with a bit of flourish and blew gently on the shining black ink, watching with satisfaction as it dried beneath his eyes. With the letter done, he folded it into thirds and reached for his satchel, looking up to the sky as he did so. He still had a few minutes of light left. He pulled out a sketchbook with filled with heavy paper and bound in soft leather as well as a small box of pencils and got to work, finishing up the work he had started earlier that day. Once completed, the letter would include two sketches; one of Brook and the other of the slow-rising town along the shoreline, drawn from his father's boat earlier that day, each signed and dated. He gathered the drawings and the folded letter and put them into the sketchbook for safety. He'd seal the letter back at his dorm.
The sun hesitated on the edge of the horizon now. The darkening sky was laced with the sharp, bright gold edges of the lingering clouds. Far above, a few of the first few stars had begun to light up the evening sky. Farren smiled and looked down at the slowly shifting mound of sand beside him. He gently let his long fingers brush the fine grains of sand away, exposing the rough scales of Brook's snout. She shook herself off and raised her head, looking up at him with those jewel-like green eyes, waiting, expected.
"Come on, girl. Let's head on home, yeah?"
1022w
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