No Time For Niceties!

Playing a less-than-willing nanny to a 'pride wounded' avian, one that nearly marred your dashing good looks with a lethal permanence no less, wasn't how you had wished to spend your first evening abound. Initially, there had been a knot of guilt tugging at your stomach after your cheap shot, which then panged all the harder at the unintentional shaming of his body's unexpectedly amorous response. Each sorrowful whimper from your fallen adversary was like another condemnation of your wicked actions…

That, however, was fifteen minutes ago.

Currently, the slowly softening whines only add to your growing annoyance. Despite your own actions, dishonorable as they were, at the very least they were made only in a **** attempt to preserve your life. This idiot's caterwauling, on the other hand, has likely alerted every mindless meal-seeking denizen of the forest for miles of your exact location. That is to say nothing of his original screech of agony brought on by your bid for survival. Yet here you stupidly sit to keep watch over the fool, his sobs accompanied only by the ever loudening smacks of the tree’s bark meeting the back of your head.

Eventually, the vocal **** or the constant bashing of your skull (most likely a combination of the two) becomes more than you can bear. The fresh headache forming from whence there was naught but a soothing calm in preparation for sleep spurs your forth to see this bird's tirade to an end, one way or another. After one particularly forceful reverse headbutt, your frustrations bubble over and you’re soon up and stomping over to the source of your present woes. Drawing within a few steps of the sniffling flier, you silence his self pity with an angry stamp of your paw, shaking the bough beneath you both.

“I think that’s enough.” You harshly proclaim, your icy tone causing the hooded cowl to creep open just enough to catch sight of those teary violet eyes within. Another tinge of guilt jabs your chest when those misery filled orbs peer up into yours. It is quickly snuffed out, though, as you’ve finally captured the bird’s attention and won’t be giving it up so easily. With a deep breath to relieve some of the angst pent up inside, you crouch low, hoping to put to bed this day's strangeness.

“Feeling better?” Your question is terse, delivered with what's left of your annoyance at being so rudely ambushed. The laid low Pokemon flinches, reminding you that a softer touch might be best with this one. Trying to put the frantic guy at ease, you plop down on your behind, each leg over opposite edges of the branch, with your arms propping you up to the rear. The relaxed posture seemingly does some good, the cowl retracting mostly back to where it was and the feathery lad sitting upright; one fluffy wing hand cupping his now thankfully penis sheltering sheath protectively.

“N-not really..” Comes the shaky response. His eyes never leave you, even as he scootches back a few inches, clearly not in the trusting mood. You just sit there with a blank expression allowing him to collect himself. “Still hurts…”

You can’t suppress a sarcastic smirk as you open your mouth. “I imagine it would. Wasn’t exactly planning to ‘play nice’ with the guy who disrupted my peaceful evening and aimed an arrow at my face...” And once more, you can’t help yourself.

“...Twice.”

The man didn’t appreciate the jest as much as you had hoped; the deep flush of his cheeks burning though his face feathers. It did, however, cause him to look away from you, something you’d never think to do with someone you considered a threat. More progress. You do think it wise to avoid embarrassing him further if you want any answers, though, and change up the conversation before his tears begin to well up once more.

“So… since we’re both kinda done with the whole ‘trying to kill each other’ thing, how about something more productive? I have a few questions; likewise, based on your screeching earlier, you are seeking a few answers of your own.” The lone feather atop his head perks a bit at this, betraying his interest in your proposal. Taking his silent regard as an agreement, you continue, “Explaining your **** on my makeshift camp would be a good starting point, I think..”

“Drop the act.” There’s some unexpected fire in his retort, the words themselves spat more than spoken. More worryingly, you can see the muscles in those arms tense as he calls you out. You half expect him to resume the conflict before he proceeds, “You know damn well your presence alone is a violation of terms!” Puzzled at this claim, you plead your ignorance of these so called terms, the loud mouthed bird waving away your confusion with every word.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Sneasel…” This time, his tone is low and threatening. Even in the face of your sincere obliviousness, he presses on. “Your kind are masters of deception; saying or doing anything to achieve your nefarious ends. Which is it this time, eh?!” His voice raises in volume as his form likewise raises to a wobbly stance. Now with him towering over you, thoughts of acting first begin to cloud the more peaceful notions you originally held. He was starting to go off again, but you weren’t willing to let this devolve back into useless ****. You stamp down the instinctive urge to meet his aggressive stance, choosing to remain seated as he levies the last of his vitriol at you.

When at last his tirade peeters out, you again affirm that you are who you say; that you left the oppressive clan to find your own way and gave up eating eggs or meat of any kind even before that. By the look on the flustered rangers face, he isn’t so sure of your story, likely even now thinking of ways to get the upper hand in a second clash. Unfortunately for the both of you, he wouldn’t get the chance.

As the uncooperative archer prepares another, equally fruitless stream of insults and accusations, the rapid approach of a dark figure over his right shoulder steals your attention. Your eyes widen as you gauge the speed of the flying creature as it increases its wingbeats whilst lining itself up for a vicious tackle into the distracted avian. As your fluffy assailant begins to chastise you for ignoring his scree, you realize that you’d never get out a warning in time.

“Is it so hard to pay attention?! Your kind are so arrogaaaAAAHHHH!”

Deciding that damaging the goodwill you’ve garnered is better than losing the fool altogether, You swipe out with a hindpaw, catching him in the leg and hooking the back of his knee. With a surprised squawk, the man falls to his back just seconds before the soaring Pokemon blisters by in a blur of purple. You’re up in a flash and facing the new threat, watching as it slows its failed charge to turn and face the both of you whilst hovering in place.

Sharp fangs snap within their maw as violet wings flap at a feverish pace behind the Venomoth. The woman, as indicated by the two generous breasts bouncing to the rhythm of each pump of her wings, glares hatefully at you through glowing purple eyes. In denying her first choice of a midnight snack, it looks like you’ve volunteered as an alternative.

Guessing you’ve only seconds to come up with a course of action before her next charge, you take stock. The bird would be a valuable asset in an airborne fight such as this, though it doesn’t look like he’s fully recovered from his run in with your hindpaw. Additionally, you doubt there is any trust to be had with the stubborn bird so counting on him could be disastrous. You could attempt to fight off the feral by yourself, but that would be tricky considering the obvious disadvantage of being land bound. There’s also the chance that engaging the woman solo would leave the wounded ranger as an easy target for the moth or any other ferals lurking in the area. With little time left before her ****, you choose to: