“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Written in the Fates!” Bass was ecstatic! No more than ecstatic! He was ecstaticastic! (If that’s even a word!) The poor Torterra had been scared to death at the possibility of making an enemy of another survivor. With the Swellow acknowledging his presence, Bass started off for the direction that would lead to their safety, prancing along in a leisurely manner. It was odd just how comfortable he felt with such interesting characters. ‘I have yet to make of the Ninetails, but I feel that I am surrounded by such kind, forgiving peop-pokemon. Oh~ I just wonder how my journey together with these three will play out.’
“Where exactly will we go from-” Bass stopped dead in his tracks as he turned back to witness a grizzly scene that had nearly driven the colossal grass-type, to tears. “Mau-Maura?” To most, it simply looked like an act of justice by the Gabite, but to him...To him, it dug up unwanted memories filled with grief and anger....In his mind’s eye, all he could see in that one instant was death of his beloved master, Dr. Maura Isles.
As Rocket had begun to start back towards them, Bass took off, running down the path that had been directed to them much earlier, by Written. ‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Maura! I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you...you and Jane...’ Minutes had passed before the Torterra had finally noticed that the others had long since caught up to him...And apparently one, particularly the Ninetails, thought it was time to break the silence that seemed to have settled between the group. "I never received your name, Comrade. Would you be so generous as to announce yourself to me?" “Excuse me, but could you please repeat the question? I couldn’t quite catch that.” Bass knew it wasn’t polite of him to have not been listening, but what could he do? After all, the Ninetails had pretty much popped out of nowhere, along with that question. But, being the ever-so childish, zealous, Torterra that he was, Bass, decided to engage in a conversation with the one pokemon in their group who decided to strike one up with him.
“Actually, friend, my name Is Bass. Bass Isles, to be exact.” And from there the Torterra had decided to lay down some random facts for the Ninetails named Vladimir. As his google-mouth ran, so did Rocket, further along the trail until they had stopped before a bridge...A bridge that would lead them into Route 45 and places like New Bark Town, or Cherrygrove City.
"We'd better go one at a time. You guys go ahead, I'll stay here and keep watch..." “I agree. This bridge may look strong, but it is probably pretty weak, so, maybe, Written, Vlad, you two could run across first, then Rocket and I will follow after. Sound good?” Despite the rationality of the idea, Bass just couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was to come and was going to happen.
Last edited by An Optimistic Pessimist on Tue Jan 03, 2012 9:21 pm; edited 2 times in total