A Tusk Situation (Closed)

Darkness seemed to seep into the world at a gradual rate as the sun descended from its throne in the horizon. The round, orange hued sphere appeared to fall in slow motion as the sky became a watercolor of varying hues of orange and pink, and it was clear that the light orb was doing its best to prevent its inevitable sink into sleep. It fell in slow motion, perpetuating its suffering and prolonging its defeat, simply so that it might shed its glorious rays of light onto the world for but a moment longer; it would not relinquish its influence so swiftly. To do so would mean its death, and the chance that it would not resurrect itself once again by the time the moon replicated its motions. This was quite the dilemma for such a celestial, seemingly immortal being that resided somewhere in the aether: who would have guessed that such circumstances would cause fear to grow in a seemingly inanimate star?

The sound of summer was all that one might hear in the forest, for the rhythmic beats of insect chirps and sighing winds echoed throughout. It was a glorious time for a woodland to be tainted with an orange glow, for the fireflies began to bumble up into being from their nestled hideaways. Naturally, the middle part of the year in which the heat was exuberant was T's favorite. The individual melodies the created a gorgeous and unique symphony could not be replicated in any other time of the year, and was thus quite admirable in his eyes. Though one might believe a Zoroark to be quite opposed to the idea of humid heat because of the density and length of their charcoal-colored fur, he found it tolerable so long as he might experience it first hand. This was often the time of year that he would take long strolls.

With his head tilted up towards the heavens and his arms folded at their elbows so that he might support his triangular cranium with his hands, he was the epitome of relaxation. There was an even tempo in his breathing as he nonchalantly walked through the dense woods, and his eyes were sealed shut so that he might solely take in the aura of that wondrous orchestra. He was graceful for a blinded Pokemon; the fox's feet knew exactly where to place themselves so that they might not become ensnared in the various debris that littered the forest floor. Undoubtedly his prodigy - and reluctant apprentice - Teru would be somewhere nearby so that his illusion might not falter and fade. The Zoroark had been doing his best to work on maintaining a concealment on the Growlithe's shiny pelt from a distance but to no avail: each attempt simply caused more irritation and frustration than the last.

Ah well, what did it matter? It meant that the boy was forced to enjoy summer strolls with him for as long as he desired! It was a blessing in that regard.

As the world continued to revolve upon its axis and T continued to meander, a light hum had been conjured forth from the pit of his vocal chords. It was a sweet sea melody born from a rather vulgar shanty, but nothing quite fit his mood better than it. "Ah," he would sigh, allowing his voice to linger on the air much longer than it should have, "Isn't this time of year quite magical, kid? Nothing quite makes me feel as alive as a prolonged stroll through the woods!"

For a fire type, Teru had gown surprisingly cold in a short amount of time. Resentment for the way his world was stripped from him sweltered inside of the pup, hatred and agony all bottled up like a molotov cocktail ready to explode. He hardly smiled anymore. He couldn't. The memory of his family's murder was still fresh in his mind, and the culprit was walking right in front of him. But if one good thing had come out of being thrust into business with these black-hearted assassins, it was that he had become stronger for it. It would be so easy now. So damn easy to take his revenge here and now.

These thoughts plagued the young Growlithe as he stalked behind his mentor, ears pinned and face taught with thinly veiled distress. Rugged and weary as he was, Teru still somehow managed to keep some trace of his heritage in the purposefulness of his gate and the shine of his deceptively orange fur. He'd made a promise to himself to keep his dignity in the company of thieves, outright refusing to interact with any but T. And even then it was out of necessity alone - there was no crook he hated more. Never mind that the crafty Zoroark had saved his hide again and again. Hell, maybe deep inside the Growlithe knew his feelings were unfounded. Beneath the sea of wrath, he had developed a curious respect for T.

He picked at the tuft of hair on his head, lost in thought; at first he didn't notice the sun was setting. When he heard T's voice, though, his head lifts up immediately, his eyes boring holes in the back of the pokemon's head with their usual intensity. He spat between his teeth, jerking his head to the side in defiance. "Tch! We're not here to enjoy the scenery!"

"Even if it is beautiful..." a small voice chimed in the back of his head.

Another snort to dismiss the pesky thought, and he picked up his pace. Apparently there was a dispute about who should inherit a father's fortune, and they were being dispatched to settle it once and for all. As much as he held onto his strong sense of justice, he could see why the mon they'd been assigned to needed to go. Ryujin the Fraxure was brash, thoughtless, and crude, with the maturity of a toddler to top it all off. The duo would be at the party where the murder would take place soon; Teru's sharp ears picked up the excited buzz of conversation through the trees.

The process was simple, and the poison had already been provided. All they needed to do now was find a way to slip it into Ryujin's drink without being caught.

T practically straightened up as he heard such a tone originate from his apprentice. His eyelids would slowly unveil his glossy eyeballs as the dilated pupils gradually slid over towards the Growlithe's direction, and it became quite apparent that he was experiencing a Zen moment. Though his overall posture and arc of his back would still persist, the rest of his body began to move in a fashion akin to someone having something rammed up their bum; it was rigid, restricted, and restrained. The fox couldn't help but allow such a comment to needle its way into his unusually thick skin, simply because he believed that some mentor-apprentice bonding time was necessary. A sigh rolled out of his throat once more as he analyzed Teru with a piercing gaze, momentarily allowing it persist before dismissing it with drooping eyelids. His gait would become fluid and graceful once more, and his head would once more direct itself towards the celestial sky. His Zen mode had successfully been spared.

"You know, kid," he would begin, allowing a slight tone of chiding to lace over his words like frosting upon a cake, "if you don't take time to smell the roses once in awhile, you're going to get an ulcer or something. We've been walking for awhile, so I don't understand why you remain so determined to ignore your surroundings! That's a key aspect in being apart of the Black Suns." T would allow a cheeky smile to flower upon his face, as if he were attempting to impart some sort of life lesson upon the youngster. Did he imagine himself as an aged old man and this dog as some sort of heir to his knowledge? Possibly, but such attachments naturally came when an oath of mentorship is given. You had to be willing to trust everything to your student so that they might one day live long enough to impart such wisdom onto their own. It was like survival in a different sense, in which a master's purpose was to perpetuate their own style and art.

T would allow a yawn to split his triangular maw into two different shapes, his tongue curling upwards as his small cuspids visibly protruded forth from his plum-pink gums. He had become so accustomed to the motion of walking that he no longer had to motivate or instruct his feet to do so; he had simply evolved to allow the rhythm to feel as natural as standing or sitting. "Anyways," the Zoroark would say, allowing his head to angle itself slightly towards the youngster, "you remember the plan, right? You know, so I don't have to make myself into a punching bag again? My ribs still ache from that Aggron!"

Ah yes, who could forget that time in which he had attempted to make himself into a seductive hulk of metal? Though he had been quite successful in the past in disguising himself as a woman, all of his subjects had been mammalian in shape and desire. Reptiles - particularly those that consisted of living metal - were a different classification, in which they were difficult. His mind was simply not hardwired for such likes and dislikes, and it was no wonder why their cover had been blown so quickly and they had to resort to impersonating a "plumbing crew".

The Zoroark's wisdom fell on deaf and very angry ears. He snorted his response, kicking his hind legs into the dirt in discrete defiance. The stubbornness was strong with this one. To an outsider, it was a sad scene; try as he might, T would never get through to Teru for as long as he carried the thorn left by his family's death in his heart. To him, it was only natural. He'd learned the hard way that you couldn't afford to trust anyone - maybe if he'd been more cautious he could have done something to prevent the attack. He could have noticed something was off, but he didn't. And who was the culprit? T. T and his friends. No, he wouldn't forget, and he wouldn't open up for as long as his pride was in tact!

"O-of course I remember!  But... it wouldn't hurt to go over it again. I rather like my life." Teru wasn't cut out for acting. He had no grace when it came to wearing illusions, and the last two times he'd tried ended up horribly. Unfortunately, his yellow-turned-orange pelt was too bright to sneak through the undergrowth. Eventually he'd find a way around that, but for now he would just have to follow T's lead as he always did. "And for the record, I didn't need your help back there. I had everything under control."

He stopped and crouched behind a bush as the mansion came into sight. It wasn't a typical Fireland mansion, and the architect was foreign to him. Instead of plated roofs and paper windows, the edges were straight and stone, and the doors heavy, painted wood. The courtyard stretched out in front of them, green and flowering, and populated with snobby looking pokemon - largely dragon type, but he failed to see the target no matter how he searched. Blue eyes darted across the courtyard to where a pair of Dragonair were making small talk with whom he could only assume was their client. She was graceful for a Haxorus, her carapace was sleek with constant waxing, and the curve of her beak was subtle and feminine. He glanced up at T with a scowl, "He's not here yet."

T, still stopped and stalled where he had been, allowed a slight sigh concealed as an exhale to be expelled from his lungs. The Zoroark couldn't help but feel the small claws of impatience and dissatisfaction embed within his skin, and yet he could never really bring himself to scold the kid. He could never really put his claw-finger on it: was it his hair or something? It certainly might not have been his disposition, for even the most forgiving of mentors and teachers might have snapped at such disobedience and disrespect by now. So what if T had been kinda-sorta responsible for Teru's clan's demise? So what if he had plucked the Growlithe up after attempting to assassinate him near his parents' grave? This was certainly no reason to act like a spoil sport - at least in T's opinion! He had to man up!

Fanning his hand in response to Teru's claims, he allowed a cheeky grin to smear itself upon his furred features. "Sure," he would muse, allowing his voice to trail and suggest otherwise, "because you were certainly going to get yourself up from underneath that Aggron's butt all by yourself. I forgot that you were capable of lifting something as heavy as a fatass." He sneered, and allowed his fanning hand to morph into a swift jab at the Growlithe's head. He aimed to playfully prod the canine's skull with his red claws in a manner that would only sting momentarily; it was akin to smacking someone on the back in approval or in a joking fashion.

Whether it was a hit or a miss, T wouldn't hesitate to crouch upon the ground and quickly draw up the plan. He swiftly grabbed twigs and sticks to construct the area that they would be sweeping, and obtained random knick-knacks from the undergrowth to illustrate the people. "Okay," he would begin, lifting up a rather disheveled looking pine cone, "this is the hit." He would then lift up a variety of objects, identify them, and place them where he had been told they would be located in the compound: rock - mama, nettle - brother, assorted leaves - guests that weren't important, gorgeous acorn - T, satisfactory acorn - Teru. He would continue, "We will wait for them to toast the new heir before we attack, and we have to be super quick. While some of them approve of the hit, there are those who still are in favor of the guy, and they won't be too thrilled for them to go. We throw the dagger, make sure it hits, and split. Got it? Good. Let's go."

Upon encroaching upon the mansion and witnessing Teru crouch behind a bush, T rolled his eyes and groaned. His apprentice didn't know anything, did he? "Teru," he would scold, "you forget that you're with me, and that you already look like a fabulous Dragon-type." Indeed, T had already worked his magic, wherein he appeared like a magnificent, noble Garchomp and Teru was reduced to the countenance of...

A Goomy.

Ow. T's claw clocked the side of the Growlithe's head, earning him another ugly look. Was it too much to ask for one day without being teased or belittled?! He hated being treated like a kid! Anger prickled hotly at the back of his neck, raising his hackles, and he had to fight the urge to have the last word. It'd be bad for everyone if they got too noisy, or they couldn't cooperate, even though he hated every minute spent with this jackass, so he shut himself up and turned his attention to the crude map on the ground.

Okay, so everything was pretty straight forward like he though and - wait. What? Teru blinked inquisitively up at his partner, then lowered his gaze to his now... really blobby body. "Oh, come on!" he groaned, jiggling in frustration. Of course he shouldn't have expected any different. Of course not. But this was just stupid. A Goomy? Really? Grumble, grumble. "I still don't see why we have to keep doing this acting thing. Hasn't worked out very well for us before." Okay, so most of the time that was his bad - Teru never considered himself much of an actor. Still bemoaning everything about this situation that he could, he trotted/slipped out from the undergrowth without looking back.

In front of the gates stood an impressive looking Golem, who leaned down to look at him. "Invitations." he commanded, lowering his stony hand, twice the size of Teru's head, expectantly. Finally something they could do without much trouble, thank Arceus; they'd been provided with invitations from the client beforehand. But of course he couldn't hand them out because he didn't have any arm, thanks. Teru didn't think he'd ever get completely used to working under an illusion. You had to move your body a certain way, talk a certain way, act a certain way, or the whole thing was pointless.