Stranded (rated M for possible adult themes)
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August 8th, 2012 (11:22 AM). Edited August 8th, 2012 by Claire*.
Here's to the crazy ones.
Join Date: Jul 2012
Victoria had noticed the mysterious boy and Kelsey collapsing in exhaustion. Any semblance of an idea of what to do, quickly escaped her head. There was no hope for her to move both of their bodies over to the shelter that Vincent was now calling her over to.
The shelter was certainly impressive, all things considered. Victoria made a mental note to praise Vincent’s craftsmanship. She settled in a corner opposite of Vincent and recalled Bubba, who was still plodding along at his merry pace. The previous event’s of the day, not seeming to bother him in the least. “You’ll be warmer in there little guy.” I promise,” she said affectionately to his Pokeball as it was being fastened to her hip.
Looking out of the hut, Victoria could still see where Kelsey and the man were rested. Completely exposed to the elements, and unsheltered from any wild Pokemon that might get curious. Trying to get Vincent’s attention, she cleared her throat and whispered for him. “Vincent...Vincent...are you awake?” No response came. “Hey, maybe we should use your Kadabra to lift them into the shelter?” Peering through the darkness, it was evident that Vincent was already asleep. “Uh, never mind,” she said exasperatedly.
Kelsey’s Cyndaquil was still tucked under her right arm, the faint warmth of his body was amazingly comforting. Using her left, she reached up to her hair and pulled out the goggles of her father’s. The goggles being integral to the structure of her hair, once removed it fell down into it’s natural position, draping over her shoulders, releasing sand as it fell. The hair now slightly frizzy, and unruly in the tropical humidity.
The damp sand and sweat that still stuck to her body, made for poor insulation on her skin. Although the hut was lined with leaves on the ground, the effect was still freezing. A shiver ran through her to the bone, the temperature continuing to drop in contrast to the comfortable daytime conditions. The tank top that served as a blessing during the day, now doubled as a curse at night. Victoria snuggled with the little Cyndaquil as best she could, trying hard not to hurt him as she curled into a partial fetal position.
The exposed skin of her body turning to goosebumps. She looked out at the entrance of the hut. The sky was remarkably clear, unlike anything she had ever seen. The heavens truly profound and expansive, every star seemed to be in reach. Her nightly ritual of counting them began anew. “One, two, three, four, five...” Exhaustion overcame her, drifting off into the escape of her dreams. It was the first time she never made it past five.
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