Post by orioncayge on Nov 22, 2022 21:11:07 GMT 9
Two days had passed since the felling of the Briarbeast on the edge of Asper's settlement, the finale to quite the raucous party. A perfect end to such a...wild string of events, there had been booze, puzzles, and even murder? The party had been a blur, but the beatdown afterwards? Orion could never forget a good brawl, and what an unforgettable and harrowing brawl. A titanic beast that threatened to swallow all of Asper back into the throes of corruption. A sickness that spread like a plague to pokemon and player alike that robbed them of their agency, twisting their desires and forcing them to dance to it's wicked whims.
It was enough to bring a shiver down his spine.
Couple that with the fact he'd pushed himself to his breaking point mentally and physically, cascading his health into negative's he'd never thought possible, and surely this was all something for the professor to hear about. He'd spent the better portion of day one letting his support bugs pepper his injuries with healing booboo kisses, the fight having shattered his fingers into twisted body horror and leaving hairline fractures throughout his arm, injuries brutal enough to bleed through to the real world as throbbing echoes after his headset had been removed. His buddy had warned him that this sort of thing came with the territory of bootleg VR. They called it Phantom Nervous Injury Syndrome, or PNIS for short, and while there hadn't been any observed cases of it being lethal, it was enough to give him pause.
Even now, his fingers were wrapped up in white bandages like some rad main character from an unrealistic fighting anime as they clutched the manila folder filled with neatly written text detailing the events of the previous night. He hadn't had time to get them stapled, or clipped together for that matter simply because he'd used all of the staples and binding office supplies from mom's house in order to help build some sort of fossil revivivication machine (Results pending). Surely a trip to the store was in order, but he was on a short timer. The longer he wasted, the more likely it was that a certain someone would beat him to the punch, that her notes would wind up on the profs desk before his and he'd be left looking like a chump.
He couldn't let that happen.
He was so intent on not letting that happen that he'd even skipped time honored tradition of bringing the prof her coffee. Instead he found himself quickly strutting down the hall, rounding a corner with great speed and momentum, so focused on the task at hand that he'd forgotten that perhaps there were others afoot. Then, tragedy struck. He'd bumped into someone, his injured hand wincing with the contact and letting folder drop and scattering his unbound pages across the cold tile floor.
"Oh shit!" The fighter yelped. "My Bad!"
It was enough to bring a shiver down his spine.
Couple that with the fact he'd pushed himself to his breaking point mentally and physically, cascading his health into negative's he'd never thought possible, and surely this was all something for the professor to hear about. He'd spent the better portion of day one letting his support bugs pepper his injuries with healing booboo kisses, the fight having shattered his fingers into twisted body horror and leaving hairline fractures throughout his arm, injuries brutal enough to bleed through to the real world as throbbing echoes after his headset had been removed. His buddy had warned him that this sort of thing came with the territory of bootleg VR. They called it Phantom Nervous Injury Syndrome, or PNIS for short, and while there hadn't been any observed cases of it being lethal, it was enough to give him pause.
Even now, his fingers were wrapped up in white bandages like some rad main character from an unrealistic fighting anime as they clutched the manila folder filled with neatly written text detailing the events of the previous night. He hadn't had time to get them stapled, or clipped together for that matter simply because he'd used all of the staples and binding office supplies from mom's house in order to help build some sort of fossil revivivication machine (Results pending). Surely a trip to the store was in order, but he was on a short timer. The longer he wasted, the more likely it was that a certain someone would beat him to the punch, that her notes would wind up on the profs desk before his and he'd be left looking like a chump.
He couldn't let that happen.
He was so intent on not letting that happen that he'd even skipped time honored tradition of bringing the prof her coffee. Instead he found himself quickly strutting down the hall, rounding a corner with great speed and momentum, so focused on the task at hand that he'd forgotten that perhaps there were others afoot. Then, tragedy struck. He'd bumped into someone, his injured hand wincing with the contact and letting folder drop and scattering his unbound pages across the cold tile floor.
"Oh shit!" The fighter yelped. "My Bad!"
