GSC!Rival (Nikolai | Silver) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
namesaquestion) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-08-04 02:49 pm
namesaquestion) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-08-04 02:49 pm
Entry tags:
Open! Nikolai is not having a good week.
WHO: Nikolai + you (open); one closed prompt to D33.
WHERE: All over Heropa
WHEN: August 2nd, after he learns of Red's arrival.
WHAT: Nikolai's pretty much throwing a tantrum because that is the correct response to everything, and looking for fist fights. Come fight him? Or try and talk to him? Or do both?
WARNINGS: Mentions of parental abandonment, one fourteen year old with issues all over the place, fist fights. Will be updated as needed.
[He barely resisted the urge to throw the communicator down the alley he'd ducked into, choosing instead to stuff it into a pocket, with extreme prejudice.
Red was here. Red, but older? Hmph, who cared. A brat was a brat, and it was the same brat who'd ruined his life. Who'd turned his father into a coward. If it wasn't for Red, the man he would never have up and left like he did. Nikolai was sure of it, and to hear the brat claimed to be sorry? No, never. He wasn't, and Nikolai was far, far too emotionally charged, too wrapped up in his own bitterness, and far too angry to even consider that it might have been the truth.
But he didn't want to think of it, didn't want to think of the memories the brief chat had dredged up. They were stupid memories anyway, and a shake of his head and a wipe of his eyes didn't help. Neither did throwing the metal barb he'd made during the 'talk' with Red at the wall. It only clattered to the ground uselessly, as if it dared to mock him. Useless like his pokemon, and there were no trainers here that were worth the effort of battling. Just wimps and weaklings and bleeding hearts, and he needed a distraction. Anything to take his mind off things he didn't want to think about. Thinking about them only pissed him off.
A walk, maybe. But a fistfight sounded a lot better, and it'd blow off some steam. He hadn't had a good rough-and-tumble in a while. Maybe he could start something. That sounded like fun.
Unfortunately, this means that anyone who seems even remotely in his way is going to be literally shoved out of the way as he walks aimlessly around Heropa.]
What are you, stupid? Move already, before I really make you!
CLOSED TO D33
[By the time he comes home, he'd been in at least one fight, and was still fuming over Red as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him, uncaring if it echoed the house. If his housemates were smart, they'd stay the hell out of his way.
He needed a sink. His knuckles were bloody and he probably didn't look that crash hot but whatever; the first sink he could think of was in kitchen.] Hey, wimp. Move.
[He needs the sink, and he isn't above literally shoving you out of the way to get to it. Which he'll be doing anyway.]
WHERE: All over Heropa
WHEN: August 2nd, after he learns of Red's arrival.
WHAT: Nikolai's pretty much throwing a tantrum because that is the correct response to everything, and looking for fist fights. Come fight him? Or try and talk to him? Or do both?
WARNINGS: Mentions of parental abandonment, one fourteen year old with issues all over the place, fist fights. Will be updated as needed.
[He barely resisted the urge to throw the communicator down the alley he'd ducked into, choosing instead to stuff it into a pocket, with extreme prejudice.
Red was here. Red, but older? Hmph, who cared. A brat was a brat, and it was the same brat who'd ruined his life. Who'd turned his father into a coward. If it wasn't for Red, the man he would never have up and left like he did. Nikolai was sure of it, and to hear the brat claimed to be sorry? No, never. He wasn't, and Nikolai was far, far too emotionally charged, too wrapped up in his own bitterness, and far too angry to even consider that it might have been the truth.
But he didn't want to think of it, didn't want to think of the memories the brief chat had dredged up. They were stupid memories anyway, and a shake of his head and a wipe of his eyes didn't help. Neither did throwing the metal barb he'd made during the 'talk' with Red at the wall. It only clattered to the ground uselessly, as if it dared to mock him. Useless like his pokemon, and there were no trainers here that were worth the effort of battling. Just wimps and weaklings and bleeding hearts, and he needed a distraction. Anything to take his mind off things he didn't want to think about. Thinking about them only pissed him off.
A walk, maybe. But a fistfight sounded a lot better, and it'd blow off some steam. He hadn't had a good rough-and-tumble in a while. Maybe he could start something. That sounded like fun.
Unfortunately, this means that anyone who seems even remotely in his way is going to be literally shoved out of the way as he walks aimlessly around Heropa.]
What are you, stupid? Move already, before I really make you!
CLOSED TO D33
[By the time he comes home, he'd been in at least one fight, and was still fuming over Red as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him, uncaring if it echoed the house. If his housemates were smart, they'd stay the hell out of his way.
He needed a sink. His knuckles were bloody and he probably didn't look that crash hot but whatever; the first sink he could think of was in kitchen.] Hey, wimp. Move.
[He needs the sink, and he isn't above literally shoving you out of the way to get to it. Which he'll be doing anyway.]
no subject
[Because he's starting to come to the conclusion that he's going to have to ask the other trainers with help re: training his pokemon, but it's not an idea he's comfortable with just yet.]
... Fine. I need ice anyway.
[His hand really freaking hurts.]
no subject
Hey, don't forget Crobat can still show Golbat a thing or two. It really likes Golbat, ya know. Wanted to help it hunt.
[and also just wrap it up in its wings and keep it safe, but that's neither here nor there.]
C'mon. [archie straightens up, holding his hand out.]
no subject
Blood's expensive. But you don't get the pokeball.
[When it comes to how much the species can drink one sitting. And he Does Not Trust Archie not to run off with any of his pokemon again.]
Not home. Somewhere else.
[He's still angry enough that he'd start fights with his housemates if he saw them.]
no subject
[he shrugs. he didn't expect to get the pokéball.]
Alright, there's plenty of food places nearby.
no subject
[He means it, too. He's not made of money, and as far he knows, he still owes you money.]
Anything that has anything like home.
[He might not admit it, but he's starting to get really, really homesick for food from their general world. Everything he's found so far has been bastardised or is Not The Same.]
no subject
[jokes on you niko archie just sends it all back to you under a different name.]
...Well, we're from different regions. What sorta stuff does Johto have?
no subject
He... hasn't figured that out yet.
The stuff they call Japanese, but also like, yadon-udon - yadon-stew is also good, but only if it's got cream from anything other than a miltank. Soba with pidgey too, and I think I had something out of a shellder shell once. Some sort of qwilfish dish or something like that. It was ok, but not the best. The place closed down soon after.
[He means slowpoke tail udon.]
Tarako onigiri too, but don't try the stuff here. It's... [He makes a face.] There's an ok shop in Johto that makes the best.
no subject
Part of me doubts we'll get anythin' made of a Pokémon here, unless Blue sacrifices that Pidgeot of his, ha!
[...god he can only imagine pidgey as being horrendously salty.]
We'll find somewhere, okay? Just-- take deep breaths.
no subject
Yea. I don't mind the stuff here - even if it is weird, but finding food that tastes like it should...
[He's more than a little homesick, but.] You know any ok places?
no subject
[he starts off, then stops and looks back at niko.]
How's your hand?
no subject
Hmph. Let's just get the food.
no subject
[he does not believe that, but leads the way.]