wurm (phineus) wrote in pokemorph,

Egg Hunt: multiple eggs

Participants are Emily and Shakespeare.

Powder Egg
An Egg lightly painted all over with small spots of yellow. It sits on a low shelf half obscured by things in front of it.
Prize Number 714
Tron Egg
An egg painted dark grey with green lines marked onto it in a mockery of a circuitboard the artist could really of done with more practice. At least it glows. This egg is hanging from the price board at the front of the shop..
Prize Number 66

Edge Comics
As you walk in, you will hear a muffled beeping sound coming from behind a large counter in the back of the room in front of a door that reads, "Do Not Enter". This is the only side of the room where you can see any bit of white paint on the walls. The other walls are covered by large posters displaying different types of anime and manga and comic books. To the left and the right there are shelves filled with assorted manga, comic books, and other books of interest. There is also a section of the store for the more intellectual type of person. There are thick novels, Encyclopedias, and other reference materials for those with a more "detailed" read, for lack of better words.

Emily has been out in the woods repairing her damaged garden for the past week or so. When she finally came into town again, the whole place was alive with "Find the eggs! Get the eggs!" and fliers and banners and people making such a fuss about it... Emily remembered back to the running to the hospital with Pink Emily and the Scyther and the egg. Her spore-addled brain reaches the only conclusion it can: These eggs are lost and in danger! They have to be saved and taken to the hospital! AND SHE IS A BAD ENOUGH BUG TO SAVE THE EXEGGUTOR. After several rounds of Agility (and some RageCandyBars she found in the trash) she has the speed and sugar high to go with this exact level of maniacal frenzy. She bursts into the comic book store carrying a duffelbag on her left shoulder, and starts crawling around on her three good limbs with fanatical devotion and frantic worry. "Eggs. Gotta find the eggs!"

Little known fact! Comic books are a guilty pleasure of Shakespeare's. He likes to keep the impression that all of his reading is devoted to intellectual pursuits; and when confronted about his stash of superhero stories, he'll wax philosophical about how he's merely keeping atop popular culture and investigating the societal impact of the archetypal hero ... but seriously, though, it's just fun fantasy escapism. And so the Vibrava-Morph is standing in front of a rack of the week's current comics, calmly flipping through the latest issue of Gligarman. Emily's somewhat dramatic entrance is greeted with merely a quick glance, but then her panicked search catches the lacewing's attention.
"Er..." Shakespeare starts, turning his head to stare at the girl, his antennae twitching. "... Eggs? What eggs?" This is the only bit of information that makes it through his confusion, and a blank buggy stare is levelled at the Paras girl.

Emily skids to a halt in semi-springy fashion, at first jerking forwards and then slowly her body recoils back like leaves blown in a breeze. It's the kind of movement a praying mantis makes when mimicing something innocuous as it walks. She looks over to Shakespeare, "The eggs! Lost eggs have to be found." She wriggles her way across the floor, right arm simply hanging as limp as it can without being dragged along the floor. "There was a Pink Emily, and a Scyther, and an egg, and Pink Emily was hurt and the Scyther had an egg, and they had to go to the hospital, and the egg hatched, and now there are more eggs and they are lost and I have to find them. Eggs aren't safe on their own! I know because I eat them sometimes! They are good with some bacon and maybe fish and you stir them and fold them over, but we are not doing that today because we have to save the eggs." She stares with wide and quite possibly crazy eyes through her whole explanation. Her smell is a heady pollen and ragweed mixture, making the edges of objects seem to have their own distinct sounds and buzzes if you get a good whiff of the spores.

Whoof! The Paras' odour hits Shakespeare, and he's suddenly very, very glad for his poor, insectile sense of smell. He's sure if he had the sensitive nose mammals are purported to have, he'd have just been knocked flat on his tail. His antennae delicately fold backwards into his hair and his wings flick across his back as he resists the urge to bolt. His torso pulses slightly as he tries to take shorter, shallower breaths, listening to the girl's babble.
Well, that ... /did/ answer his question. He thinks. Shakey waits patiently until she's done, and shakes his head slightly. It's hard to concentrate... did he inhale some of those spores? Fiddlesticks, that's not good. He slowly closes the comic book and replaces it on the rack with a deliberate hand; and leaves that hand on the rack for support as he rubs the spot between his eyes with his other hand. "I... Er. Yes. Eggs aren't safe on their own. You are correct." He'll let the rest go without comment right now. "Emily, that is your name, yes?" Wait a minute; a poster on the community bulletin board at the library swims through his mental fug- Something about eggs- And it's lost again. He feels a migraine coming on.

Emily nods firmly, a motion that shakes out several more green, purple, and yellow spores in delicate clouds from the mushrooms on her head. Fortunately they seem to fall straight down into her hair and onto her dress. "Emily is me, yes. I am Emily. That is my name." She takes a step back and tilts her head. "Oh. I smell funny, I know, and the smell will tell you how colors feel when they sing if you breathe too much. I try not to do that. Uhm... I have medicine to fix it if you get a big headache like I do sometimes. But we have to find the egg so help me find the egg." She starts looking under shelves and pressing her face up against the glass of display cases.

"Hi, Emily. My name is Shakespeare." He will never say 'I am Shakespeare,' because he's not, but it is his name. The Vibrava's mandibles quiver, the white 'fangs' unfolding momentarily into a pair of sickle-shaped structures before neatly tucking themselves back into a muzzle-shape; this action is in response to the bit about smelling funny, as if offended or embarassed the girl pointed this out. "Synesthesia? Your spores grant people synesthesia?" ...But, seriously, the eggs. Focus, Shakey! Something about eggs. She needs to find eggs and help them hatch. Or is there more than that?
"Erm, thank you, but I think I will be okay." He runs his claws over his hair and antennae and gives himself a firm shake. And tries not to breathe any more spores, if he can help it. The Vibrava steps back from the shelf and looks around the store, without really a clue as to where to even /start/ searching for an egg... and feeling all the more silly for it. "How big are these eggs?" That seems a prudent question.

Emily squints lidlessly. "Pink Emily and Scyther's egg was this big," and she holds her left hand flat a distance above the floor comperable to a pokemon egg's height. "I don't know if other eggs are bigger or smaller. Pink Emily looked a lot like Emily but was only pink, and so it is Pink Emily. But it is not really Emily. And Emily is too small to have eggs, so I don't know if that is the right size. Maybe snorlax has bigger eggs and we are looking for snorlax eggs? Maybe the eggs are small. But they have colors on them so we know the ones." She finds a model figurine of the Staryu Destroyer and the Death Starmie from Poke Wars, and then rushes past a collection of more questionable magazines in the back, peering skeptically as she tries to read the titles over the blacked-out plastic covers. "Hot Wailord on Skitty... no, that is not right." She moves on.

In his limited knowledge, the rough height she shows seems to be about the average Pokemon egg size. Assuming this Scyther was not actually a 'morph, especially. 'Pink Emily' gives Shakey more pause, but it must have been a shiny Paras or something. Too much to think about. Why is it so hard to think? The lacewing follows somewhat helplessly behind Emily, arching his neck to peer over the tops of magazines for... something. An egg, he supposes. Something roundish and anywhere from golfball to basketball-sized, right? The title read snags his attention like a red hot poker shoved into his eye, and his antennae snap upwards as he moves to flick the clothed tip of his tail between Emily and /those/ magazines. "I-I am quite positive, er, the egg is not /there/," he stumbles over his words, and his antennae droop in relief as the girl moves on. Whew. Well... maybe there's an egg in the figurines in the glass counter? Maybe? The lacewing steps over to the counter and crouches near the floor to peer at the lower shelves.

Emily practices her reading as she moves along the comics, looking behind some of the displays, scuttling partway up the wall to examine higher shelves. "Ninjaskroll. Kanto Mew Mew. Dugong Melody Pichu Pichu. AzurillManga Daioh. Poochyasha..." She falls off the wall and thumps to the ground, but gets up seemingly unhurt. "Abratar the Last Mindbender. Ah... I don't see one, just more books behind the books. Maybe there's not one here."
Emily hopes the fake comics keep you loling.

Shakespeare half-listens to Emily. She can read well, at least. That is good. Very good! More children should read. He's not at all biased in any way, certainly not... He makes a note to carry more manga at the library, and hopes he'll remember that later. He still can't remember what it was about the eggs in that poster. Maybe it was a notice for missing eggs! That would certainly explain this helpful girl so frantically searching for them. "Do you ... know where any of them are?" The Vibrava straightens up, twisting around to glance at the Paras girl. "Did you hear there was an egg here?" Hmm, did the search the superhero comics, actually...? He moved on /from/ there... Shakey walks back to the wall of the weekly comics and starts poking through issues.

Shakespeare says, "Oh yes. XD"
Emily shakes her head. "I don't know. Nobody said one was here. I'm just looking everywhere because they said they were all over. Some people found some inside and some people outside, and the eggs are hiding but we have to find them." She sounds honestly furstrated by her inability to properly explain. She's not sure she understands it properly herself. "But I know we have to hurry so I used the go fast now thing." She whips quickly to the other side of the store, showing off the Agility again. "But I can't go too much faster, it is tired. So I just look everywhere fast!" She squirms her way in between a stack of boxes, flattening sideways with her bad arm upwards. If there were a rug, that is how snug she would be.

"Oh," Shakespeare says lamely. So they are likely even looking for a thing that ... doesn't exist. Frustrating. He jumps in surprise as Emily suddenly ... appears on the other side of the store. His spore-addled brain has difficulty grasping the blur of motion his eyes just registered, and there even seems to be a faint afterimage of the girl in one spot, and now she's... over /there/, wedging herself into some boxes. Do Paras learn Teleport? Can non-espers even do that? He presses his hands against both eyes, rubbing them gently, then shakes his head. Just... look through all these shelves. The Vibrava crouches down to poke through lower racks. What's this? Seems one issue is flopped backwards, as if set in front of something. Could it be?? He picks up the issue, and reaches forward to delicately pick up the Powder Egg. "Emily? This is what you're looking for, right?" It is seriously much smaller than he'd anticipated.

Emily blinks. Without eyelids. Don't ask. "It is an egg and it has colors! Yes! That must be it. Okay, we take it and go find more. Then when we get them all, and can't find more, we go to the hospital, and they will all be saved!" She rushes up and tries to hug Shakespeare. "You are magic! Thank you!" Hugging range is plenty close to make the posters on the wall start humming showtunes. And for the showtunes to sound like flavors of ice cream. Thankfully Emily seems to be aware of this and backs away quickly with a somewhat apologetic look. The synesthesia fades quickly as well once she's out of range. "Sorry."

Maybe being a bug himself, eyelidless-blinking is a gesture somehow conveyed to Shakespeare. "More?" The Vibrava sounds slightly crestfallen. How many more /are/ there? The hug is a surprise, but he accepts it with as much grace as he can, reaching to gently pat Emily on the shoulder in return. Nevermind the mess of her clothing. His antennae flicker spastically as he listens to the sudden singing of vanilla and fudge ripple... And a several seconds to recover himself. "Wow," He says quietly. "That was ... new," Words fail Shakey. He makes a coughing noise like clearing his throat, then holds the egg at arm's length, dubious of more pictures singing at him. "You should take this, Emily."

Emily tilts her head and gives a quiet chitter "Paras?" "&lgt;Really?&rgt;" "Okay. Ah, wrap in cotton and put in my bag. Will keep it safe. I have a pouch for squishy things that has hard lining." She sets her dufflebag down and starts unzipping pockets. The central pocket is full of aluminum-foil-wrapped mineral rocks, paper-pressed leaves folded over, wax-paper-wrapped globs of goo, ziplock bags of powders and spores... she pulls out some cotton and gauze to wrap the egg in, using her feet to hold the egg and her good hand to do the wrapping. "Okay, should be safe." Another pocket of the bag has a tough plastic shell to keep it rigid and cushioned. There's a saran-wrapped tunafish sandwich in there too, and a tomato.
Emily takes Powder Egg.


Sky-High Pizzeria
The Sky High Pizzeria, a small but homely pizza parlour run by 'morphs who take advantage of their natural abilities to run a very profitable business. Namely, you've got your Fire-type pizza-chefs (they don't need matches for them pizza-ovens, and seem to've mastered the art of quickly and evenly cooking pizzas), and Flying-type delivery-boys (delivering to anywhere on the Isle in fifteen minutes, or it's free!). It's a mid-1990's-esque casual sort of place, with a few tables, a counter where one can go to order and pay for food instead of being served at a table, and behind that counter, an open kitchen where the customers can see their pizzas being made. It has large windows in the front by the tables, opening up towards the outside; large stone ovens in the back that the Fire-type pizza-chefs blow fire into for quick mass-pizza-cooking; and a sort of open area in the back (with two large outwards-swinging doors, so as to be locked after-hours) where the Flying-type delivery boys (and girls!) take off with their deliveries and land with the cash they get. The whole building is made mostly of brick of varying hues, and the tables are nought but cheap yet sturdy wooden-and-plastic affairs, with red plastic chairs by each one. There are framed, cartoony images of pizza-eating Pokemorphs - a little Magby, a Jigglypuff, a Snorlax, a Golbat, and several others - on each wall of the seating area.

At least Shakespeare was in fact able to catch up to Emily! And struggled to keep up with her in a dash across the city, it seemed; he eventually just took to the air, flying a few feet off the ground, and able to move much faster than on his awkward feet. And somehow they wind up in a pizza place... well, at least the fresh air seems to clear out his head and shoo off the impending headache. As long as he is careful to stay upwind of the girl, at least. "Pizza?" The Vibrava asks after they step into the restaurant, his head swiveling to and fro, taking in the cheesy pictures on the walls of the place. Sheesh, where would an egg be /here/? Maybe it got eaten?

Emily doesn't seem to have any rhyme or reason to where she's looking. She just busts into places, egg or not, and rummages through looking for eggs to save. Sure, not exactly superheroic, but most superheroes have better intel than is available to a teenager in first grade. Of course the expression on her face is still something of the wild-eyed mania one might expect from Haruhi Suzumiya after eating too much birthday cake and being told the pokemorph mothership is landing. At least until she has a good look around. Flying types flying off with pizza! Fire types blasting fire at pizza! Pizza with... with... MUSHROOMS ON IT! Emily's expression fades to a dull sickly look as one eye twitches. "Emily must be careful here," she drones to herself. "But I have to find the egg!" she complains. "Emily cannot find the egg if she turns to charcoal." The paras-girl whimpers and slumps back against the wall, both hands rising towards her head balled up into fists near her temples.
Shakespeare says, "great analogy XD"

Poor Shakespeare is just along for the ride, so to say... with an embarassed glance to shopowners and employees, he follows Emily in her hunt (if a bit recalcitrant). Maybe it's assumed he's taking his little sister out for the day; his ... gifted little sister. Either way, seems he's stuck helping her; he's far too polite to refuse now. "I am reasonably confident the egg would not be in the kitchen." (Anymore!) he reassures her. "Mayhaps it is on a table?" He notes her fright, and points to the booths nearest the counter, and thus, the place where there is Fire-types doing their fire thing. With a slight cringe, he tries not to think about that too much, "I'll look over there." Of course, if he'd just looked /behind/ him at the price board on the wall...

Emily seems to be of little help in this search, not simply from fear but from a crushing wince of pain she seems unable to shake. Her right arm drops limp again and she opens her dufflebag. She gropes through it uncertainly, awkwardly, until she finds a plastic bag with foil in it. In kid-scribble permanent marker on the bag is printed "HEDAKE MEDSIN". She struggles to open the bag without destroying it using only her one hand.

Nothing on the tables, nope. Just pepper, parmesan, and napkin holders. Unless there's an egg cleverly shoved into one of the shakers? But Shakespeare isn't going to go poking through other peoples' future food to find out, if there's an egg in there... it can stay there. There is probably nothing here, either. The lacewing turns around to see Emily struggling to open a bag, and hurries over. Hee-da-kay med...? Oh. Yes. "Let me assist," Shakey says softly, reaching to take the bag from her and hold it open for her one good hand. "Do you need something to drink with this?"

Emily answers with a quiet whimper. "Water helps. Sometimes." Earlier she was chattering a mile a minute in rambling. That's gone now. "Hurts inside." She reaches in and pulls out the foil package, pincher-thumb cutting through the top. She leans back and tilts the pouch, a white large-grained powder with gray speckles spilling out into her mouth. She swallows slowly, eyes unfocused, and then leans forwards to support herself on her left hand still clutching the empty pouch.

Shakespeare's mandibles grind together silently, now worried. Uh oh. Is he going to have to bring the girl herself to the hospital?? "I will get some water," He scurries up to the counter, clipping his hip on the edge of a table. "Ouch!" But the big ignores that, and manages to flag down an employee quite quickly and returns to Emily, with a small plastic cup full of ice and water. "Here..." He holds the cup out to her, half-expecting to even have to hold it to her mouth for her to help her drink. She /really/ doesn't look good. He tilts his head, watching her closely; his movements more twitchy with anxiety, and- Hey, what's that on the board there? The Vibrava turns his head away from the Paras to eyeball something on the board near him... an egg? Hm. He turns back to Emily.

Emily murmurs absently, "Worse today," and chugs the water. The ice crunches slowly in her sideways-clenching jaw. She sucks on it slowly until it's gone entirely. She takes slow breaths and her eyes come back into focus. "Sometimes... the headache comes and then I want to do things. My eye goes wrong and funny. My mushrooms hurt on the inside." She taps a clawtip to her skull. "Medicine helps. Makes the thinking not hurt."

The Vibrava hovers near Emily, concerned. He also makes a mental note to research her species and the mushroom interaction; he can't remember if they are parasitic or symbiotic. Are these kinds of things common for Paras? Is there a regular medication that might help? Shakespeare clutches his hands together as she crunches the ice, but he's visibly relieved as she seems to come back around. "Do... do you know what the medicine is? Is there something you think of..." Nah, maybe it's better not to go down /that/ road. "Do you think you will be all right, Emily?" His antennae quiver.

Emily nods slowly. "Happens lots. Yes, I make the medicine. For a long time. It is the white sap from the willow tree, and the chalk rocks from the mountain edge where the stream comes out, and a little of the oil of poppy flowers, and some red clay, and powder from everstone grinding. You have to make it right. I can show you how?"
Emily counts off things on her fingers as she recalls them. That's five. Where's six? "Persim juice. Last thing is persim juice."

Shakespeare listens carefully as she rattles off the ingredients. Curious! He tries to carefully tick off each thing mentally, to research those as well. The poppy flowers, at least, certainly make sense. Everstone might be particularly important, too. "I am curious, yes! Is it easy for you to get these things?" The Vibrava shuffles backwards a bit, giving her more space now that she seems to be recovering. He spreads his wings slightly as he does so, the tip of a wing brushing the egg dangling from the board, setting it to swing back and forth gently...

Emily doesn't quite look up, taking her time to recover, leaning back against the wall as solidly as she can. "Everstone is hard to get. Willow tree sap grows back if you cut the bark right and plug when done. Have to collect poppy for winter..." She shakes her head. "Takes time to get. Takes time to make. Eevee was nice and gave everstone. I make other medicine too, but I'm best at headache medicine."

"Did someone teach you to make these things?" Shakespeare's antennae stand on end, curious. Did she figure out all these things on her own? She must have a lot of apothecarial talent! He tilts his head, watching the Tron Egg as it slows to a stop... and just reaches out and plucks the thing off the board, then cradles it gently in his thin fingers and simply holds it out in front of Emily. "If you like making medicine, I have some good books on them at the library," he offers. He'll even show her the really nice ones in the reference section.

Emily shakes her head a little. "When small... I remember I was very small. I lived outside and did not remember there was a city. And I watch to see what pokemon eat, and what animals eat, and what makes them better and what makes them worse. And I taste the things. Very very small tastes. Very small so don't get sick if wrong. Very careful. Mix with water and taste. Let dry and taste. Absorb in clay and taste. I can taste it very strong and tell what it does and if it mixes or doesn't mix."

Well ... wow. Of course, Shakespeare is assuming she is far younger than she is, due to the way she acts and speaks (and spells). Still, impressive! "That is very smart of you, Emily! Especially to take small tastes of things you do not know. Perhaps you could learn more medicine and work as a pharmacist when you are older!" He withdraws his hands slightly, the egg unnoticed. "Hold out your, er-" well, one is disabled, so: "Hand, please." And he reaches out again to deposit the circuitboard-painted egg into her palm, if she complies.

Emily smiles a little. Which is to say she exposes the inner cthulhian mouthparts normally hidden behind those sideways-opening jaws. "I am not that smart," she murmurs. "I am very bad at maths and spelling." She nods a little. "Teacher says maybe nurse or doctor. I first said I wanted to be parasect when I grew up. But they laughed because that wasn't what they meant. So I said I wanted to be aluminum when I grew up but she said I could not be aluminum. So maybe I will be a farmer colleges, and people can learn to grow food from me." Egg. She blinks. Egg is there. "EGG!" she screeches happily, quickly repeating her routine of packing and wrapping it.
Emily takes Tron Egg.

Tags: event: egg hunt 2011, roleplaying log
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