[ooc: narration] Expect the Unexpected
Falkner had only been a part of this school for a night and little over half a day. Last night had been a difficult one for him to sleep through, and so had the night before that. Because of those slips in sleeping patterns and all of the odd bits of information that had been stuffed inside his brain in such a scant amount of time, he had unintentionally fallen asleep on the couch before he could properly assemble his new living arrangements to suit his preferences. Now that was tired.
Uh-oh! He was in for a rude awakening.
A booming charge of particularly loud thunder rattled him from his dreams and he was up before you could say scrambled eggs. Since when did it get cloudy- since when was he this short- since when did he have flippers- SINCE WHEN DID HE SQUEAK?!? "Pi-pi-PIPLUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
His wings flew to his beak, immediately silencing his outcry. Just... Just what was going on here?! This wasn’t really happening. It couldn't be, because it was definitely impossible and absolutely ludicrous to think he had actually turned into a... wait, a Piplup? Flipper-like wings, beak, stumpy feet, white spots on his down- yeah, that looked about right.
... A PIPLUP?!?!
Nnnnno way this was actually happening- oh god it was actually happening- he dove off the sofa and rolled into a series of somersaults before his backside collided (un)gracefully with the low table. He cheeped in grimacing and flopped over onto his belly. His vision swam in hazy stars before he stacked himself back upright, only to ram his plump head against the wooden edge and go sailing back down to his face.
“Pi...” his dizzy voice murmured, which could be directly translated to a form of “ow”. This was ridiculous... How was he not dreaming?
Another peal of thunder sent him back to his feet (only to bump his head for the third time, damn it!) Full of clueless trepidation, he peeked around the room and recalculated his whereabouts. Right, he wasn't home. He wasn't anywhere near Violet City, let alone the entire region of Johto. Frankly put, he felt horribly lost. Think Falkner, think! Remain calm! Do something about this!
His Pokegear! He left it on an end table by the window in the kitchen. Falkner fumbled on the clumsiest feet he had ever known (falling over a total of four times) and leaped for the table, flailing his feet and pushing his flippers down hard on the surface to boost himself up. He scooped it up with names of potential numbers he could reach flipping through his mind but forgot to anticipate his ungainly Piplup grip. The device went soaring out the open window much like a renegade pancake off the flick of a spatula. Falkner squealed in despair and nearly tripped along with it to an uncertain doom.
My Pokegear! His beak hung open and his eyes stared blankly out at the raging storm. His wings were still outstretched in front of him as if he could still catch it. Ruined, that’s for sure. His Pokegear was done for.
Panic sent his little heart thumping as hard as the raindrops. He couldn't contact anyone. He was helpless up here. A new feeling washed over him that firmly asserted he didn't need anyone's help. He could figure this out all by himself. Rising to his feet, he brushed his frontside off and flapped his stubby wings to aid his landing off the table, a determined look on his face. He waddled over to the door and figured that nothing would be solved by just moping around his apartment as a Piplup. What would he eat? How long could his birds wait? What kind of class could he run as a baby penguin Pokemon? It took quite a few attempts at hopping and grasping at the knob, but eventually it did the trick and he was on his way to freedom- and to find an impossible solution.
Falkner entered the maze.
Uh-oh! He was in for a rude awakening.
A booming charge of particularly loud thunder rattled him from his dreams and he was up before you could say scrambled eggs. Since when did it get cloudy- since when was he this short- since when did he have flippers- SINCE WHEN DID HE SQUEAK?!? "Pi-pi-PIPLUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
His wings flew to his beak, immediately silencing his outcry. Just... Just what was going on here?! This wasn’t really happening. It couldn't be, because it was definitely impossible and absolutely ludicrous to think he had actually turned into a... wait, a Piplup? Flipper-like wings, beak, stumpy feet, white spots on his down- yeah, that looked about right.
... A PIPLUP?!?!
Nnnnno way this was actually happening- oh god it was actually happening- he dove off the sofa and rolled into a series of somersaults before his backside collided (un)gracefully with the low table. He cheeped in grimacing and flopped over onto his belly. His vision swam in hazy stars before he stacked himself back upright, only to ram his plump head against the wooden edge and go sailing back down to his face.
“Pi...” his dizzy voice murmured, which could be directly translated to a form of “ow”. This was ridiculous... How was he not dreaming?
Another peal of thunder sent him back to his feet (only to bump his head for the third time, damn it!) Full of clueless trepidation, he peeked around the room and recalculated his whereabouts. Right, he wasn't home. He wasn't anywhere near Violet City, let alone the entire region of Johto. Frankly put, he felt horribly lost. Think Falkner, think! Remain calm! Do something about this!
His Pokegear! He left it on an end table by the window in the kitchen. Falkner fumbled on the clumsiest feet he had ever known (falling over a total of four times) and leaped for the table, flailing his feet and pushing his flippers down hard on the surface to boost himself up. He scooped it up with names of potential numbers he could reach flipping through his mind but forgot to anticipate his ungainly Piplup grip. The device went soaring out the open window much like a renegade pancake off the flick of a spatula. Falkner squealed in despair and nearly tripped along with it to an uncertain doom.
My Pokegear! His beak hung open and his eyes stared blankly out at the raging storm. His wings were still outstretched in front of him as if he could still catch it. Ruined, that’s for sure. His Pokegear was done for.
Panic sent his little heart thumping as hard as the raindrops. He couldn't contact anyone. He was helpless up here. A new feeling washed over him that firmly asserted he didn't need anyone's help. He could figure this out all by himself. Rising to his feet, he brushed his frontside off and flapped his stubby wings to aid his landing off the table, a determined look on his face. He waddled over to the door and figured that nothing would be solved by just moping around his apartment as a Piplup. What would he eat? How long could his birds wait? What kind of class could he run as a baby penguin Pokemon? It took quite a few attempts at hopping and grasping at the knob, but eventually it did the trick and he was on his way to freedom- and to find an impossible solution.
Falkner entered the maze.