((OOC: Pretty far behind, but if anything needs clarified, I'd be more than happy to explain it away))
"So weird," said Jed softly as the others introduced themselves. They all seemed friendly enough. "I'm Jedidiah, by the way. Jed works. I go by James in Flames on PC, but I'm new there too…it's weird that Mewtwo would pick me. Probably a prank of some kind." Jed shrugged and took out the Net Ball, Bruce giggling all the while.
"He gave you the ball for a freaking fish, dude. To hold me in. I'm pretty sure even I would screw with you, that is, if I was given the chance." Bruce wrinkled his nose. "God, I'm going to have to live in that thing. I'd appreciate a different ball as soon as possible, bro."
Jed sighed and took out a pair of headphones, jamming the tiny speakers into his ears. Then he took out his iPod, clicked play, and walked along with the others in silence.
It was awkward for Jed, in a sense. He was so used to being the one that was super talkative, eager to find a new friend, but in this strange situation with people he sort of knew? When truly he didn't at all? It was awkward as hell. Might as well capitalize on the silence.
"What are those things?" asked Jed's Sneasel, its nose twitching curiously. It took him a moment to realize the Pokémon was talking about the headphones and iPod.
"It's a way for me to listen to music," he responded, glancing back down at the screen. "It's pretty sweet to be able to –" Jed yelped as he was interrupted. Bruce scrambled up to perch on his shoulders, digging his claws in occasionally.
"Don't whine," said the Pokémon reprovingly, reaching out and nudging my ear. "Mind putting one of those in my ear? Kind of tough to listen to it otherwise, seeing as I don't have…well, opposable thumbs."
If it's all about ice and gems, I wonder "where does your soul go when your life should end?" Do you come back as a Maybach, maybe a Rolls Royce…I wonder how many kids I'd have if not for pro-choice. I had no voice until the beat came, I wonder how many black men in America these streets claim. Enough to fill the NFL with, like, three teams. I wonder why Atlanta rises to sh*t when they should seek change. I wonder what my friend's mom felt when she was asked to identify his body and she could not tell if that was him or not, because they filled his heart with a billion shots.
"This is," started Bruce, bobbing his head unknowingly. He paused for a while. "It's interesting. Great beat, great rapper and all. The subject matter's a bit too depressing for my tastes, though. Ugh."
"Reef takes a while for people to get into usually, that's alright," said Jed. "He has some beautiful lyrics at times, though. Sick freestyler too."
Jed snapped out of his reverie as the group came up to an albino cave.
"That's it," said Bruce, his voice lower than before. He seemed anxious. "Well…I guess we've got to go ahead, don't we?"
"You guess," responded Jed, taking out a joint, tapping it against his palm to pack it lightly. He took out a small black Bic lighter and flicked it against the rolling paper carelessly, inhaling deeply. "If it all goes to sh*t in here, I'm going to die with the taste of good greens in my mouth. Let's get on with it."
He walked forwards into the cave along with a few adventurous people. Sneasel stayed on his shoulder, glancing curiously at the paper in his hand.
"And that is…?"
