Post by Milo on Jun 16, 2016 7:25:10 GMT
PMD ; EXPLORERS OF FOG
Milo
age YOUNG ADULT | gender MALE | class OUTLAW |
TEAM N/A, SEEKING | SPECIES MINUN | LEVEL 5 |
PERSONALITY,
Milo is a charmer. Not in the debonair, suave stylings of a gentleman, or the flirtatiously aggressive manner of a cassanova; rather, Milo has a simple, boyish, naive honesty to him that quickly endears him to others. Hailing from a village where he had no other option but to make himself known if he wanted any attention, Milo finds himself having no trouble approaching strange Pokemon or volunteering himself (for the right work) with confidence in his adulthood.
Somewhere along the line, however, Milo recognized his talent for getting in good with others. Disenfranchised as an outcast from his home, Milo began to cease caring about the impact of his actions on others, taking advantage of his magnetic personality in his current lifestyle as a con man.
Milo has a distinct lack of faith, disbelieving in forces like luck or tradition. He staunchly believes that life is purely what one makes it-- and therefore, he's well within his rights to do whatever it takes to get what he wants out of life. As much as he tries to be a realist, however, deep within Milo is an optimist, holding onto the hope that someday, he'll find whatever piece it is that leaves him feeling so empty.
Despite Milo's lack of remorse and morally questionable world view, the Minun takes a genuine interest in those around him and makes an effort to be a decent personality. He takes care to treat others with respect and patience, even in the face of particularly rude Pokemon. Milo runs on a clean-slate policy for everyone he encounters, and tries his best not to harbor any preconceived notions of anyone and remain impartial.
It takes a special combination of button presses to work Milo's temper. The only time you'll hear a rude word escape his mouth is if you have the audacity to come between him and the spoils of a job. Even then, Milo vents purely in snarky, passive aggression-- he'll won't call you an idiot, but he will heavily imply that you are one.
At the end of the day, nowhere is home for Milo. The perpetual vagabond isn't comfortable settling anywhere or around anyone for too long-- possibly a manisfestation of some trust issues. Not that he would ever talk to you about them. Ambiguous and evasive to a fault, answers from Milo about his past or his emotions tend to rest somewhere between the truth and a lie. He's a master a dodging personal questions.
Somewhere along the line, however, Milo recognized his talent for getting in good with others. Disenfranchised as an outcast from his home, Milo began to cease caring about the impact of his actions on others, taking advantage of his magnetic personality in his current lifestyle as a con man.
Milo has a distinct lack of faith, disbelieving in forces like luck or tradition. He staunchly believes that life is purely what one makes it-- and therefore, he's well within his rights to do whatever it takes to get what he wants out of life. As much as he tries to be a realist, however, deep within Milo is an optimist, holding onto the hope that someday, he'll find whatever piece it is that leaves him feeling so empty.
Despite Milo's lack of remorse and morally questionable world view, the Minun takes a genuine interest in those around him and makes an effort to be a decent personality. He takes care to treat others with respect and patience, even in the face of particularly rude Pokemon. Milo runs on a clean-slate policy for everyone he encounters, and tries his best not to harbor any preconceived notions of anyone and remain impartial.
It takes a special combination of button presses to work Milo's temper. The only time you'll hear a rude word escape his mouth is if you have the audacity to come between him and the spoils of a job. Even then, Milo vents purely in snarky, passive aggression-- he'll won't call you an idiot, but he will heavily imply that you are one.
At the end of the day, nowhere is home for Milo. The perpetual vagabond isn't comfortable settling anywhere or around anyone for too long-- possibly a manisfestation of some trust issues. Not that he would ever talk to you about them. Ambiguous and evasive to a fault, answers from Milo about his past or his emotions tend to rest somewhere between the truth and a lie. He's a master a dodging personal questions.
History,
On the fringes of the Quiet River lay a small, derelict community village, where the shadows of the wild children of the fog can be seen to dance when dawn breaks through the haze. Frantic sparks betray their identities-- a colony of Plusle and Minun, young and old, devestating the still with their excited banter and play. A clear, red-eared matriarch stomps into the middle of the fray, firing a Charge Beam into the sky as a two dozen young rodent-like children immediately fall into an entranced silence, their illuminated faces gazing upon her intently. The sovereignly Plusle grins: "I think it's about time. Let's find your soulmates."
This particular band of wild Plusle and Minun boasted a long-carried tradition of finding one's life-mate once they had come of age. The unique, unseverable bond of a Minun to a Plusle is like that unrelatable to any other-- beyond platonic and romantic, and dwelling somewhere much more vital. Old legend whispers that whenever a Minun is born, another Plusle is born at that moment in turn; the two are each other's direct complement-- their literal other half. It's for this reason that, in Plusle and Minun society, a Minun or Plusle without their soulmate is a Minun or Plusle imcomplete.
At the matriarch's word, the clan contracted inwards into a frantic circle. Blue and red cheeks glowed furiously with the gentle, amateur sparks of inexperienced young Pokemon who've yet to learn their power-- in and out, back and forth-- cheek-to-cheek. They were testing one another with the tool mother nature kindly provided them with to learn who held the key to the other half of their spirits. Building static in their cheeks, the Pokemon Nuzzle together; when their cheeks met that of their soulmates, they would find themselves bound like magnets and forever changed.
"My soulmate would know I was their's, just by looking at me," dramatically declares one young, red-eared lady, nose curling at the crowd of Nuzzling rodent Pokemon in ardent disapproval. Overwhelmed by the huddle, she removes herself-- though, she soon found herself propositioned anyhow.
A feathery-eared young Minun grinned a lopsided smile at her, affectionately patting the plus-shaped electricity pouches on her cheeks with a gentle gaze playing in his eyes.
"Well, I see you."
Young Milo, particularly diminutive amongst the Minun, had been taken special note of by the matriarch-- not for his honest, charming tongue and wisened, bold demeanor, but because of his apparent difficulties in finding his place in the village. He wasn't necessarily ostracized from the group of children-- the others simply seemed to not notice him. In the closely-knit community of the Plusle and Minun, it was unusual for a member to go so unnoticed and have to work so diligently to be paid mind. The invisibility of Milo was of great concern to the matriarch on this gravely important day.
"Tut! I'll not have this!" The elder Plusle missed not a single beat, descending upon the pair as if from thin air. "I'll not have tradition be broken by your whimsy," she glowered, sending a nervous jolt through the two while she stood in wait before them expectantly.
Milo breather a soft, shuddering sigh, looking down to his feet briefly before he returned his eyes to those of the Plusle before him.
'It was worth a.. shot.'
His baby blue cheeks began to hum with energy, light shining along the perimeter of the minus-sign adorning them. Unlike the other rodent Pokemon participating in the hunt, Milo seemed only capable of producing the faintest buzz from his cheeks. The Plusle before him fired up her own electricity-- her cheeks brimmed with an energy so powerful that sparks showered to the left and right of her frame, causing brief bouts of ignition to the air around them. Milo swallowed.
'I guess I knew that wouldn't fly, though.'
Slowly, the two pressed together, cheeks rubbing together softly, briefly. The unfriendly friction burning from their faces told the story: it was quickly apparent to all involved that this was a no-match.
'If only all it took was looking into someone's eyes.'
Milo had exchanged brushes with half of the village children, finding himself coming to the same results. The young female Plusle eyed him awkwardly, but sympathetically, before another Minun lady approached her and locked cheeks.
"Ah! You're magnetic! You're mine! My soulmate!"
They babbled joyously having found one another. Milo watched on, a sincere grin playing on his face to act against the melancholy working in his eyes. He silently congratulated them as he turned once more towards the fray-- "Wow, such energy.. I'd be sure lucky if you would be mine,"-- undaunted and determined to fulfill the one purpose lying dormant in the hearts of all of his kind.
Dusk quickly threatened to descend into night, and the ruckus of the morning had fallen into a contented, warm hush. As their ancestors had done before them, the Plusle and Minun of the Quiet River had discovered a piece to themselves they would hold onto forever.
But elsewhere in the forest, two bodies shuffled through the haze. The heavy angst between them lingered on the air denser than the fog itself. The shadows trudged in a deafening silence, stopping only when the cloudy frontier gave way to a lazily cobbled path-- Andalusst Town, a haven free of the shroud that plagued the rest of Parai, but in a literal sense only. The duo stepped out at once into the open air-- Milo and the village matriarch.
The elder Plusle, for once in her life, wore a look of conflict on her face as though she had suddenly questioned the rightness of every decision she ever made to this point. When she opened her mouth to begin, Milo cut her off with a beguiling grin and salute.
"You don't have to say anything, grace. This is an opportunity. I'm grateful. I promise." His words parted his lips with the same bold intention he always spoke with, but the matriarch felt her heart crumble all the same when she failed to hear the same sincerity she came to expect from Milo. She took a step backward.
"I'm sorry, Milo, but it's out of our hands. It would be cruel to keep you home in the village when you... have no soulmate there." Her voice quietened, eyes shifting towards the town. Certainly, her villagers would be asleep in the safety of their homes, but these strange townfolk are so restless that even now various denizens can be seen wandering awake.
However, this was Milo's world now.
Milo never found his soulmate that night. Though he never gave up, and never let his disheartened spirit leave tracks on his face, he seemed to carry the misfortune of being the Minun that mother nature broke her promise to.
The matriarch encouraged him to abandon the village. There was no happiness for him there-- 'Or anywhere else,' she admitted in her private thoughts, 'but, at least on his own, he won't have to face the constant reminder of his own poor luck.'
Without much ceremony, the two parted ways. Milo watched with an indiscernible expression as the matriarch disappeared into the fog and, with her, his heritage, culture, family, and the only life he ever had known.
When he no longer could make out her shape, he turned around and peered hard, through the dark and into the heart of Andalusst.
"This is an opportunity. There's no such thing as luck."
This particular band of wild Plusle and Minun boasted a long-carried tradition of finding one's life-mate once they had come of age. The unique, unseverable bond of a Minun to a Plusle is like that unrelatable to any other-- beyond platonic and romantic, and dwelling somewhere much more vital. Old legend whispers that whenever a Minun is born, another Plusle is born at that moment in turn; the two are each other's direct complement-- their literal other half. It's for this reason that, in Plusle and Minun society, a Minun or Plusle without their soulmate is a Minun or Plusle imcomplete.
At the matriarch's word, the clan contracted inwards into a frantic circle. Blue and red cheeks glowed furiously with the gentle, amateur sparks of inexperienced young Pokemon who've yet to learn their power-- in and out, back and forth-- cheek-to-cheek. They were testing one another with the tool mother nature kindly provided them with to learn who held the key to the other half of their spirits. Building static in their cheeks, the Pokemon Nuzzle together; when their cheeks met that of their soulmates, they would find themselves bound like magnets and forever changed.
"My soulmate would know I was their's, just by looking at me," dramatically declares one young, red-eared lady, nose curling at the crowd of Nuzzling rodent Pokemon in ardent disapproval. Overwhelmed by the huddle, she removes herself-- though, she soon found herself propositioned anyhow.
A feathery-eared young Minun grinned a lopsided smile at her, affectionately patting the plus-shaped electricity pouches on her cheeks with a gentle gaze playing in his eyes.
"Well, I see you."
Young Milo, particularly diminutive amongst the Minun, had been taken special note of by the matriarch-- not for his honest, charming tongue and wisened, bold demeanor, but because of his apparent difficulties in finding his place in the village. He wasn't necessarily ostracized from the group of children-- the others simply seemed to not notice him. In the closely-knit community of the Plusle and Minun, it was unusual for a member to go so unnoticed and have to work so diligently to be paid mind. The invisibility of Milo was of great concern to the matriarch on this gravely important day.
"Tut! I'll not have this!" The elder Plusle missed not a single beat, descending upon the pair as if from thin air. "I'll not have tradition be broken by your whimsy," she glowered, sending a nervous jolt through the two while she stood in wait before them expectantly.
Milo breather a soft, shuddering sigh, looking down to his feet briefly before he returned his eyes to those of the Plusle before him.
'It was worth a.. shot.'
His baby blue cheeks began to hum with energy, light shining along the perimeter of the minus-sign adorning them. Unlike the other rodent Pokemon participating in the hunt, Milo seemed only capable of producing the faintest buzz from his cheeks. The Plusle before him fired up her own electricity-- her cheeks brimmed with an energy so powerful that sparks showered to the left and right of her frame, causing brief bouts of ignition to the air around them. Milo swallowed.
'I guess I knew that wouldn't fly, though.'
Slowly, the two pressed together, cheeks rubbing together softly, briefly. The unfriendly friction burning from their faces told the story: it was quickly apparent to all involved that this was a no-match.
'If only all it took was looking into someone's eyes.'
Milo had exchanged brushes with half of the village children, finding himself coming to the same results. The young female Plusle eyed him awkwardly, but sympathetically, before another Minun lady approached her and locked cheeks.
"Ah! You're magnetic! You're mine! My soulmate!"
They babbled joyously having found one another. Milo watched on, a sincere grin playing on his face to act against the melancholy working in his eyes. He silently congratulated them as he turned once more towards the fray-- "Wow, such energy.. I'd be sure lucky if you would be mine,"-- undaunted and determined to fulfill the one purpose lying dormant in the hearts of all of his kind.
Dusk quickly threatened to descend into night, and the ruckus of the morning had fallen into a contented, warm hush. As their ancestors had done before them, the Plusle and Minun of the Quiet River had discovered a piece to themselves they would hold onto forever.
But elsewhere in the forest, two bodies shuffled through the haze. The heavy angst between them lingered on the air denser than the fog itself. The shadows trudged in a deafening silence, stopping only when the cloudy frontier gave way to a lazily cobbled path-- Andalusst Town, a haven free of the shroud that plagued the rest of Parai, but in a literal sense only. The duo stepped out at once into the open air-- Milo and the village matriarch.
The elder Plusle, for once in her life, wore a look of conflict on her face as though she had suddenly questioned the rightness of every decision she ever made to this point. When she opened her mouth to begin, Milo cut her off with a beguiling grin and salute.
"You don't have to say anything, grace. This is an opportunity. I'm grateful. I promise." His words parted his lips with the same bold intention he always spoke with, but the matriarch felt her heart crumble all the same when she failed to hear the same sincerity she came to expect from Milo. She took a step backward.
"I'm sorry, Milo, but it's out of our hands. It would be cruel to keep you home in the village when you... have no soulmate there." Her voice quietened, eyes shifting towards the town. Certainly, her villagers would be asleep in the safety of their homes, but these strange townfolk are so restless that even now various denizens can be seen wandering awake.
However, this was Milo's world now.
Milo never found his soulmate that night. Though he never gave up, and never let his disheartened spirit leave tracks on his face, he seemed to carry the misfortune of being the Minun that mother nature broke her promise to.
The matriarch encouraged him to abandon the village. There was no happiness for him there-- 'Or anywhere else,' she admitted in her private thoughts, 'but, at least on his own, he won't have to face the constant reminder of his own poor luck.'
Without much ceremony, the two parted ways. Milo watched with an indiscernible expression as the matriarch disappeared into the fog and, with her, his heritage, culture, family, and the only life he ever had known.
When he no longer could make out her shape, he turned around and peered hard, through the dark and into the heart of Andalusst.
"This is an opportunity. There's no such thing as luck."
OTHER,
NATURE ; Careful
CHARACTERISTIC ; Highly curious
MOVESET ;
+ Play Nice
+ Entrainment
+ Nuzzle
+ Sweet Kiss (Egg Move)
ABILITY - Minus
Log Link: Milo's log
OOC Name: Doll
CHARACTERISTIC ; Highly curious
MOVESET ;
+ Play Nice
+ Entrainment
+ Nuzzle
+ Sweet Kiss (Egg Move)
ABILITY - Minus
Log Link: Milo's log
OOC Name: Doll
PROPERTY OF EXPLORERS OF FOG, © SUNDANCE
TEMPLATE MADE BY SIFR © 2014
TEMPLATE MADE BY SIFR © 2014
