chasinglosses-blog

[chasinglosses-blog]

“Look pal, it’s just like I said,” thick arms cross over an even thicker chest, an exasperated sigh leaving Balthus’ lips. At his side and half a pace behind, his ever faithful companion Inceneroar mimics his stance at the exact same time. “I have no idea who you are, or who you’re talking about. I’m just passing through.”

The... What did this guy say they were called? Zerkies? Zorkos? Whatever, sneers at him, lazily tossing a pokeball into the air and catching it in his palm a few times. “That’s exactly what one of his lackeys would say.” There’s movement to his left and right. Surrounded, and isn’t that just great? “Well, you’re outta luck. Boys, let’s show this clown what happens when you try to stomp through our turf.”

 Out of luck, huh? Oh, if only they knew.

See, it’s down to a string of bad luck that he’s even in this mess to begin with. A failed venture here, a little stowing away there, only to get thrown off at a stop off rather than at the Hoenn region like he’d planned. Then came the problem of not having the cash to buy himself a room, he’d thought his luck had finally turned when he overheard the locals talking about Spikemuth. Sure, it didn’t exactly sound like a nice place, but what it did sound like was cheap.

Only, apparently that meant unwittingly waltzing into the middle of a turf war or something. He thought that stuff only happened on TV.

Hisses sound around him, spat from between sharp toothy grins of the weird, gremlin-like critters he’s never even seen before. Are they really related to Meowth? Inceneroar flexes one arm, the other reaching out in a taunt, and Balthus grins. The odds are against him, but he’s never cared for those anyway.

“Sheesh, if you wanted to brawl, all you had to do was ask, pal. Lets-”

“Boss!” Balthus blinks, one of the goons to his right looks suddenly unsettled, face visibly pale, “we got company!”

— ✧ EYE FOR AN EYE : pkmn au

          revenge is an aesthetic. the people living in the undesirable underbelly of spikemuth wear it like jewelry, wield it like knives. it’s been almost a decade since he first arrived here, and he’d like to say it’d been a different place back then, but to tell the truth, not much has changed. it’s still the cheapest gym area to live in, which is what had brought him here in the first place as an adolescent with a handful of poké to his name, and it’s still as rundown and seedy as it’s ever been.

          if anything, the only part of this town that really thrives is the underbelly, and the rest is just a thin veneer hoping to pass as respectable enough to keep its league title.

          a couple years ago, he thought he’d finally gotten out of this place and its dead end gym, scraped enough together to move onto somewhere better. turns out there were some loose ends he needed to wrap up first.

          ❝ zerks are closing in, boss. we ready yet? ❞ anxious energy brims like the room is holding its breath; everyone’s ready for a fight, have all been chomping at the bit for one since the confrontation a few days prior when the zerkers ( so named for their love of perrserkers ) had decided to get bold. this isn’t just about the insult to his appearance, although some misattribute it to that. this is about what they did to constance. and he isn’t about to let them mess with one of his people and get away with it.

          but even the hottest blood requires a cold patience to temper it, shape fury into a knife that stabs deep. he’s been biding his time, knowing that the leader likely expected him to strike back.

          and he would. once he was good and ready.

          ❝ boss! something’s going on outside! ❞ his gaze lifts, along with almost a dozen hungry others, some starting like coiled springs. he’s having a harder time keeping them calm with every passing minute. a questioning look invites further explanation. ❝ there’s some big guy. doesn’t look like he’s from around here. he’s caught up with the zerkies out there. think we should cut in? ❞

          it doesn’t sound like it involves them… but if some unfortunate fool is getting wrapped up in his fight, then it’s worth at least taking a look into. ❝ all right, we’ll go, ❞ he relents. ❝ they’ve strutted around these streets like they own them for long enough. ❞ he gets up from the chair he’s been waiting in, and at that motion, several others follow. the gleam of teeth as his mawile’s jaws open like a grin match the play of savage, violet light. ❝ let’s show them how we have a little fun around here. ❞

@chasinglosses

#thread: an eye for an eye #pokemon au #hgjfdhgjd sorry I took forever! #lemme know if you need me to change anything!

[chasinglosses-blog]

For Hearth and Home

Starter for @flowerofgoneril

See, here’s the thing. Balthus had been sure that this assignment from the church would have been a walk in the metaphorical park. Accompany some students and faculty to the Locket, keep his head down, don’t get himself into trouble with the locals – difficult but not impossible – and then back to the monastery. Routine and simple, not even he could screw that up.

Though the invitations to some dice games had been tempting, there was always someone watching, someone who would no doubt be more than happy to report back that he wasn’t on his best behaviour. He doesn’t fancy being thrown back into the jaws of debt collectors the moment he gets a taste of freedom thank you very much.

But, and here’s the kicker, there’s those rumours floating around about the suspicious fellow who may have been carrying weaponry from Kupala. Considering he only knows one person who ever left the village, and they’re definitely not male, the only conclusion he can draw doesn’t sit well in his stomach. There’s much too a high a chance they’re one of his stepmother’s hired hands, and if they found the village…

He can’t let this slide. He’s gotta get out there and see for himself, and there lies the problem. Going alone is sure to make his watchers think he’s up to no good, which leaves him with only one option.

“Holst will kill me if he hears about this…” Balthus mutters to himself as he lifts a hand to knock upon the door of the quarters Hilda had been given. “Hilda? It’s me,” he says, louder this time, “wanna do me a solid? I swear it’s not about money.”

#thread: for hearth and home #this took 1000 years #I'M SO SORRY FHSKF #me making a Kingsglaive reference in my titles? #more likely than you'd think!

[chasinglosses-blog]

Sweet Moves

Starter for @crestcurse

Now, see, Balthus has been around long enough in the world to know that it doesn’t need to be as overly complicated as a lot of people make out. It follows some very simple rules, after all, for example, if you fall over, it’s going to hurt somewhere. Fall on your face? Broken nose – ouch. Save yourself from that by catching yourself on your hands? Skinned palms – also ouch but not as big of an ouch. Punch a giant monster in the face? If you do it wrong, you might become lunch and that’s not a good time for anyone. But do it right and the monster will make whatever sound translates to ‘ouch.’

See? Simple.

The other simple rule that he’s – tragically – learned (over and over and over and over and-) is that luck, by its whimsical nature, cannot and will not last forever. To date, every one of his winning streaks have been cut woefully short, his empty wallet reminds him of such frequently, as do his often-swift exits when the other players at the table realise that he can’t actually pay up.

Karma taking a swing for him is exactly why he finds himself spending the last of his coin on candy, of all things, rather than a mug of ale. While he offered to perform a few extra duties here and there for the church in exchange of not having to hide away in Abyss, he didn’t expect to be given any of those duties so damn soon. Well… The task itself isn’t all that soon, but…

For around the seventh time that day, give or take one or two instances, Balthus drags a hand down his face and curses Lady Luck. Chaperoning for a bunch of kids at the ball next month sounds dreadful. And dancing? With little to no chance of a stiff drink to excuse his utter lack of finesse? Ugh.

Still, the look he was given when he opened his mouth to protest told him that gritting his teeth and getting on with it was his only option. Which now means he has to learn to dance, which meant going through a quick mental checklist of who could possibly teach him and vetoing pretty much every single one. Except for the pale haired girl he’d seen stuffing her face with candy when she thought no one was looking, giving him the grand old idea of maybe she can be bribed.

He finds her in the courtyard, thankfully on her own, and strides towards her, beaming wide and toothy. “Hey there little lady!” He greets, the bag of candy still hidden in his pocket for now, “don’t suppose you could do me a biiiig favour? I gotta learn to dance by next month, and you look like the type of girl who knows a lot about everything. What do ya say?”

#Thread: Sweet Moves #Balthus goes bribing #how successful will he be? #Who knoooooows? #(also fhdjsk sorry this took so long!)