Alarice<.:.:.:.:.:.>Porfirio
(Pickle)<<^^^^>>(Fire)
"Come on, Fire. You haven't been out of the Valley in way too long. Neither have I. Plus, I can't make Meggan do everything."
"Well, that's because I never wanted to go out of the Valley... there are... people here."
"Not all people are bad. You're a person."
"Partly..."
It was a bright and sunny day in Terrace Park when Alarice had finally dragged Fire out of the Valley. They were taking a stroll in the park, Alarice adoringly watching as the little children ran about. There were a few clouds in the sky, but none seemed stormy. It was the perfect day to go on a hunt. Alarice absolutly adored the Mr. Wilsons, and she was determined to find one.
"Do you think we'll find one?" she asked Fire.
"Probably. After all," he said, cracking his fingers, "You taught me everything I know."
"That's what I'm afraid of..." she mummbled.
They continued their stroll, and began a conversation about one of the only things they had in common: Forms.
"So... what mood do you have to be in to be a Penticorn?"
"Depressed."
"Well, how about a... um... a Battleheart?"
"Angry."
"Rengosett?"
"Curious, I think."
"What mood are you in now?"
"I don't know."
"Well, that's not very helpful."
"I think you're scaring those little kids with your eyes and your teeth."
"I think your scaring those big adults with your hair and your clothes."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"What's wrong with my teeth?"
"..."
"That's what I thought."
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