~I don't want to be known as 'His' Kid. I want to make my own head way as a Trainer. We've never seen eye to eye. I'm not living in his shadow, living up to his expectations to take over the Gym. You always said I could do anything 'I want'. Well how bout 'I don't Want'? I 'don't want' to disappoint you.
'Wounder if my letter reached-'
Satisfied with the attention obtained, Storm purred. She turned down below, pointing a spot out to relax. Brendan eyed the the surroundings, next to a creak within the forest. Nodding, he held on tight as Storm descended. Hoping off the Altaria's back, five other Pokeballs in hand, calling out team members. Today was going to be a lazy day. Brendan laid in the grass, under the shade of a tree as each of the Pokemon spread out taking their own lazy pleasure.
LockJaw dug the creak wider to hold his massive form, creating a small muddy pile along the way. Joined by RoadKill, another duel type, Tropius. Together making a large mess an getting dirty. Gathering up a small mud pile, higher, higher, then sliding down in size, RoadKill brought his foot down stomping on top. LockJaw coping him, brought his own forearm down splattering his. RoadKill repeating, sending the mud further and further form the bank of the creak.
Alarmed at their playing Ifrit, team wrecker, Rhyperior, moved further away. The water an mud looking unpleasant, taken a spot near their Trainer he followed suit, taking a nap, along with Storm. Ignoring the ruckus of Diesel, as the Macargo sizzled through the trickles of the creak, While Nova, the ghost bug Shedinja, whistled past branches.
Brandon alone with his thoughts, the sounds his Pokemon making ignored. The letter he had sent surely having reached his mother by now. How had she reacted, he didn't feel guilty for the choices he made. Should he? He didn't want a path carved before him. He wanted to break away form said path and form one of his own. Following footsteps of the old man would surely lead to expectations high enough that he wouldn't be able to reach, thus leading to failure. He wouldn't live it down. But should he care, it wasn't like the old man was around much to set an example. Why care about his thoughts when he refused to listen.
What would she think? Many a time, she claimed Brendan her pride and joy. On his own, on his terms he would do her proud. With that in mind, rising form the grass, the only child joined the marry making of LockJaw and RoadKill. Covering all in mud for the fun of it, away form high noon. Finally tired form mud stomping, RoadKill took Brendan's spot among the grass. Trainer and Starter throwing mud balls at one another, with the Starter winning.
Covered head to toe, Brendan scrubbed RoadKill and himself off, with the help of extra water form LockJaw, who refused to be scrubbed himself. Shaking dry Roadkill used his winged leaves as a fan to help dry his Trainer in return. Shivers ran down the boys spine as the cool wind blew. Jerking his shirt off he hung it up to dry on it's own, leaving his bag next to it as he climbed a near by tree. Said tree having fruit in it.
The Shedinja caught the balls of orange, passing them here and there to each of the members of the Team. Each enjoying them in turn, eventually stripping the tree of the delicious fruit. Full Stomachs, free of dirt, maybe it was time to head back to the Battle Barge. Maybe continue his winning streak of 17 battles so far. Maybe go for a few more? Maybe train awhile longer? Camp out? The possibilities where endless. If so...Then why did his mind stray to his parents?
"HA-OW!! Storm!! Quiet it!!"
The Altaria having pulled at his hat again, purred. Keeping said hat out of his reach, going so far as to fly up into a tree. Mocking him by waving the object back and forth just out of reach. Jumping as she lowered her head, his fingers barely touched the fabric of it, before jerking it back away.
"Enough Storm, Drop it."
An she did just that, right unto Nova's waiting form. He fly up also just out of reach. The antics earning them a face palm from their Trainer. Brendan's ears burned a red to match.
Shedinja rose to the challenge his Trainer's voice presented. It was time for a game of keep away.
The beam shot forth searching for it's target, missing as the target flashed outta the way. Each and every time, Nova was just to fast, not returning unless he wanted to. Storm purred happily as this old game started anew. She had done as told. Plain and simple, just not to hand it over. She knew he was fighting a battle they couldn't win for him, but could help even if it annoyed him.
Deisel still played by the creak, left to his own devices, watching form afar. He always was a little aloof, even though he knew the same as Storm. Surely they all knew. So he helped in his own way. Brendan followed Nova across the creak, switching sides constantly out of reach. Passing Deisel along the way, who hand left small still cooling magma crusts form his little journeys across. Brendan's foot catching one, sailed him back into the mud pile from earlier. Covered once again. LockJaw join in, decided pinning his Trainer down in said mud would be even more helpful in the game of keep away.
"Keep it!! Get off LockJaw!!"
The Swampert was met with a smack and a shove to his side as the Trainer's voice rose in volume. It did nothing to his tough exterior, didn't even budge him. His not physical emotions were, the sound of Brendan's voice was not unheard of, just not very use to. It only came out when he was frustrated, they hadn't meant to upset him, only to try an help. They knew something weighted heavily, they couldn't lift it for him, but they could lift himself, giving him the strength to do so. Plans backfired, LockJaw stayed where he was, refusing to move.
"LockJaw, Get Off."
The others circled round, each one of them would have moved when told by that voice, none would understand like the Starter. He stared back into the glaring eyes of his partner, returning the favor. Brendan still struggled under the heavier Pokemon, refusing to let up this time.
Brendan slowly wiggled out, LockJaw not helping, nor trying to keep him pinned either. He was even more tired when he did finally get out form down under, not getting up he stayed laying in the mud, caking himself. He sighed, growled even. This day was off, his thoughts where off. He was thinking to much. Defining his actions by some stature he refused to acknowledge. Yet he was doing it to himself. Comparing himself in the same way if he had followed the old man. That wasn't him, yet he was becoming what he hated.
He sighed again, his face meeting palm.
Out of no where a mud ball found itself planted on Stormed face, splattering as it hit home. Brendan, the culprit, fired a few more at the others. Letting him hit them, giving a 'victory', they scattered. The war back on. Everyone Vs. Everyone. Then it was the way it always was. Nothing was to matter, but in the moment. They all would carry him, an he would use their strength to over come his own ordeals. Together they'd carve their own path.