The Nightingale Conspiracy [IC]
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August 10th, 2013, 05:36 PM
Join Date: Dec 2010
Location: ...And I Dance
???-- wait, Felix Teufel
As far as he could tell, the Blaziken had woken up a small while before any of the others had stirred; it felt natural to be an early waker. His green eyes blinked several times until they'd adjusted to the light, his right hand reflexively reaching for his thigh. The lack of movement worried him; unable to move meant defeat at another's hands.
Don't panic. When's the last time you panicked?
Looking down revealed to the Blaziken that his arms, legs, and torso were strapped down to a chair he sat in.
Oh, and his feathers were half-gone in an uneven, patchy pattern, though the thought didn't bother him for some reason. Even as he watched, a small bunch just above the strap on his wrist smoldered and flared for a couple seconds, reduced to ashes.
Strap doesn't look singed at all.
For that matter, the chair itself didn't look flammable. Sighing, the Blaziken laid his head back to look around, but the movement made him look up, seeing the front edge of some sort of cylinder propped on his head.
"What?..." Now he was feeling a bit of panic creeping in. The Blaziken looked to one side and found a screen that stunk of 'hospital'. Which totally contradicted the grassy room with a few trees, which in turn denied the presence of the steel walls and a stained glass facing the Pokemon. Speaking of which, the Weavile was struggling. The Blaziken looked back down at his own chair, then flexed his arms. No luck there; the straps refused to give. Same with the leg-straps.
"You're conscious! You're conscious!" The sudden metallic voice rang in the Blaziken's eardrums, making him wince. "Joy! You don't remember anything, do you?"
"Ja, I do. I am..."
The Blaziken's brow furrowed as his mind scrambled for something, anything. Nothing. Panic.
Nonono, don't panic. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Don't need to panic, need to panic, WHY DON'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING?!
On impulse, he spat some fire at his wrist strap; the embers did nothing but burn more of his old feathers to a crisp. The Blaziken glared at the strap before looking up at the shadow behind the stained glass, breathing heavily.
Then the fire in his eyes banked as he relaxed. He'd already proven that he couldn't get out. Giving his screen a sullen glance, two words popped out at him: Felix Teufel.
Is that who I am?
"I'm sure... all of you are curious to know who you are, hm?"
The Weavile did not react well to the pressure of the situation; that is, the Blaziken was sure it couldn't have been an act. At least the Zoroark wasn't visibly freaking out. The Accelgor he could see was motionless.
Hm...a name isn't an identity in itself, in this case...
"Why the memory wipe, if we're being held captive anyway?" the half-shed Blaziken asked.
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