Jean Kirschtein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notvaljean) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2016-09-10 06:24 pm
notvaljean) wrote in victory_road2016-09-10 06:24 pm
one; video in New Bark Town
Okay, seriously, this is just stupid.
[For someone who had never seen a camera or a video until a couple of hours ago, Jean has taken to both rather quickly. He always did enjoy fooling around with things and learning about them through experimentation, and while the angle of the camera is distinctly unflattering—somehow stretching his long face out even longer while simultaneously giving him six chins—the sheer indignation in his eyes comes across perfectly.]
Everyone else gets something cute, or useful, or sweet or whatever. And I get this.
[The camera swings around, jittering wildly out of control for a moment, and then focuses on a round, red and white ball with glaring eyes. The ball’s eyes narrow further when it realizes the camera is on it, and it lunges forward with a crackling sound. Jean yelps and jumps backwards, making the camera swing wildly for a moment.]
See! He’s crazy!
[The Voltorb crackles ominously but doesn’t try to come any closer, watching Jean from where it hovers.]
So how am I supposed to make friends with this thing? Because that’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Make friends with them?
[Jean sounds almost condescending about the idea of befriending the Pokemon. Anyone listening very closely might notice how his voice is trembling the tiniest bit, betraying all his uncertainty that he will vehemently deny if he gets called out on it. His hand stretches into view, pale with callouses across the palm, and he extends it towards the Voltorb.]
You want to be friends, asshole?
[The Voltorb lunges forward again, and the camera falls to the ground, pointing upwards towards the sky, capturing cheery blue and recording the sounds of electricity crackling and Jean shouting.]
Ow! OUCH! You dick, what was that for?!
[For someone who had never seen a camera or a video until a couple of hours ago, Jean has taken to both rather quickly. He always did enjoy fooling around with things and learning about them through experimentation, and while the angle of the camera is distinctly unflattering—somehow stretching his long face out even longer while simultaneously giving him six chins—the sheer indignation in his eyes comes across perfectly.]
Everyone else gets something cute, or useful, or sweet or whatever. And I get this.
[The camera swings around, jittering wildly out of control for a moment, and then focuses on a round, red and white ball with glaring eyes. The ball’s eyes narrow further when it realizes the camera is on it, and it lunges forward with a crackling sound. Jean yelps and jumps backwards, making the camera swing wildly for a moment.]
See! He’s crazy!
[The Voltorb crackles ominously but doesn’t try to come any closer, watching Jean from where it hovers.]
So how am I supposed to make friends with this thing? Because that’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Make friends with them?
[Jean sounds almost condescending about the idea of befriending the Pokemon. Anyone listening very closely might notice how his voice is trembling the tiniest bit, betraying all his uncertainty that he will vehemently deny if he gets called out on it. His hand stretches into view, pale with callouses across the palm, and he extends it towards the Voltorb.]
You want to be friends, asshole?
[The Voltorb lunges forward again, and the camera falls to the ground, pointing upwards towards the sky, capturing cheery blue and recording the sounds of electricity crackling and Jean shouting.]
Ow! OUCH! You dick, what was that for?!
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[Jean looks down at the ball, whose attitude has completely changed; now it's all sunny and delighted, waiting at his elbow to turn the communicator on or off again.]
How do you know it's a boy?
[He'd rather not answer that, since... yeah, he just called the ball by a name.]
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I don't think there is any way to tell. [Do balls even have sexes? At least on horses and dogs and cats it is always very very obvious.] It just... sounds nicer.
We're getting distracted though.
[They still have bigger fish to fry! Like why they are here. And how. And if anyone else is here.]
Maybe we should split and look for information separately. We'll cover a lot more ground like that.
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[Jean isn't too sure about the idea of separating, especially without their gear, but this place seems pretty safe. He also wants to fool around with the communicator a little more, and the ball is nudging at his elbow, eager to help.]
I want to try and figure out how this thing works. Maybe you could go and find out more about where we are?
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It is true that they are unarmed --though unlike Jean, Armin doesn't really consider his 3DMG skills high enough to make much of a difference-- however the people here seem peaceful. And in any case, if there were enemies around, they must be the ones who had been able to kidnap and bring them here, despite them being inside of the barracks. Armin doesn't really understand their reasoning for doing so, especially not when they have released them here like this, but he figures that if people who are capable of doing that intend to do them harm, even staying together and being armed wouldn't even out the odds. Rather what they really need is information and standing around here like this is not going to get them that. Splitting up and gathering that is the best possible course of action in his mind.
It is almost a pity Jean doesn't argue with his suggestion. He wouldn't have minded letting him in on his thoughts.]
All right. It's best to meet back here. If you end up having to move, leave me some kind of sign.
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Okay. I'll probably stay around here.
[Jean plunks himself down under a nearby tree, his ball floating at his side, and starts playing with the communicator. The ball moves in close to investigate, and Jean offers it the controller.]
How does it work?
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The town they are in is tiny, barely more than a hamlet. It was easy, even for him, to walk all across it and see everything there was to see. There wasn't a single indication that any of the other were here --and, lets be real here, they stand out enough even without their gear that someone would've noticed-- and Armin isn't entirely certain what to think of that. Certainly he is glad that not more of them had been brought here, not when they have such important things to do back home, but at the same time, he can't help but have to admit a part of him would feel more confident with Mikasa or Eren here.
Well, at least he is not entirely on his own. He has Jean, after all.]
Jean.
[Yo, he is back, have you gotten electrocuted by your ball yet?]
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It's called a Voltorb. This one is a boy, and his name is Blitz.
[The Voltorb opens one eye, looks up at Armin, and then goes back to sleep.]
He showed me how to work the communicator.
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[Armin glances curiously at the ball. Whatever it may be, it does seem to be pretty smart, perhaps smarter than a dog even if it could work the device they had been given.
Armin sinks down in front of Jean, his knees tucked against his chest and his arms resting on top of them. The little owl is still sitting on his shoulder, though Armin hasn't made a move towards naming it yet.]
Did you find out anything about how we got here?
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No. No one seems to know. And some people have been here for a long time. One guy I talked to said he's been here for almost five years.
[Which sounds like an impossibly long time to be somewhere, especially when those five years would account for a third of Jean's life.]
I don't think anyone knows how to get home, either.
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Armin listens with rapt attention, filling away every detail. He makes note of this person that has apparently been here for five years as a potential source of information later. Later, he should ask Jean for his name. After all, someone who has been here for more than five years must understand their situation better than anyone.]
That matches with what I've been able to find out in town. [He frowns a bit as he thinks.] No matter who I asked, they all told me roughly the same thing. I found one guy who wasn't pleased by us being here, told me we were taking their jobs and pokemon [Armin sounds bewildered; he certainly hadn't voluntarily come to take anyone's job or pokemon.] but nobody had any advice on how to get home. Mostly everybody just wished me luck on our journey.
[He chews his lip for a moment as he thinks.]
I don't think we'll find out anything else here.
[At this point there are two possibilities: either the people of this world really don't know how they got here or the knowledge is there but held by a select few. In any case, he doesn't think they'll figure out more here.]
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[Blitz opens an eye and rumbles, and Jean absentmindedly pets his head. Don't worry, you'll always be his number one ball.]
And then fight them. That's supposed to be the big thing to do here. And they can talk to each other!
[Blitz had a long conversation with a blue dog, for example.]
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That seems like the only thing people around here are really interested in.
[Discussing how and why strange people from strange world show up? Naw son. Talking about the tiny animals they make to fight each other? Right on.
Armin points at the small bird resting on his shoulder. By now he's already gotten used to its weight there.]
This is a Hoothoot. Apparently it's both a flying and a normal type.
[Armin had run into one old man who apparently had started out his own pokemon journey with one of these little owls and he had been very intent on talking Armin's ear off about it.]
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[No one else had known anything about sentient balls, and rather than be discouraged by that, Jean kind of likes it. It makes Blitz feel special, somehow, like he's a unique Pokemon that only Jean has. It even soothes the inevitably ruffled feathers that occur every time Blitz shocks Jean.]
The people I talked to said that once you give them names, they get friendlier.
[Not that the Hoothoot seems particularly unfriendly to start with, but it's not exactly doing much either.]
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[Compared to Jean's ball-- no, Blitz, is it, the Hoothoot is already very companionable. Good, perhaps, because Armin is no star with animals. If he would've had to deal with a round little asshole like Blitz right from the start, he probably would've given up on his pokemon journey before it had even started.
Armin glances at the Hoothoot for a moment, his expression uncertain.]
I'm not really good with names.
[He has never named anything before in his life. And he has that bad habit of overthinking things.]
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Well, he's an owl, and owls are supposed to be smart, right? What's a smart name?
[He knows that, if given the chance, Armin will think this to death and never actually come up with a name for the poor beast.]
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[What's a smart name even, Jean? Names are names. And it's not like Armin spends lots of time reading those baby naming books.]
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[C'mon, Armin, Jean knows you read all the damn time. Surely you've read at least one book by or about someone smart, right?]
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[Have patience with him, Jean. Armin never even had an imaginary friend cause that would've involved naming them. It's a good thing he'll probably die before he is 30 being in the Survey Corp; if he ever had children, he'd fail at naming them.]
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[Jean personally thinks there's no reason this should be this hard, but he keeps his peace for once. Blitz opens an eye and looks at Armin before rolling his eye and going back to sleep.]
I mean, he's pretty good-natured already; it's not like you need to calm him down or anything.
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That's true.
[Really, the hoothoot is such a relief compared to Jean's voltorb. Armin wouldn't even know how to deal with that level of douchebaggery.]
It really looks like they have their own personalities. I wonder if it is a species thing...
[Are all voltorbs assholes or is Jean's special?]
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It could be. Or maybe Blitz is just special.
[The Voltorb buzzes sleepily in Jean's lap. Yeah, he's special, and in only the douchiest of ways.]
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[Armin allows the conversation to lapse into silence. That is something Jean is going to have to get used to. Armin doesn't feel the need to fill every second with chatter. Sometimes he is very content to just sit there, listen and think.]
... Amadeus.
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What's that?
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[Armin hunches over a little. Drat. Is that a dumb name? Must be.]
Just forget it.
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[Jean considers it, setting his communicator aside and leaning one elbow on Blitz's head.]
That sounds good. What's an Amadeus?
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