The days been long and the pokeballs weighing down Calla's threadbare hoodie have filled him with... something. A wandering sense dissatisfaction, maybe, or some type of craving for more than what he has now. Cassiopeia will be just another memory come the morning. Sore feet will travel down well worn paths to reach Ara; he thinks, anyway, if the map he has is anything to go by.

But all of that is for tomorrow. For now, he's tired and the Joy at the Pokecenter won't turn anyone with Pokemon away. For tonight he can have a quick shower, wash his grimy clothes, get a warm meal and sleep in an actual bed. It's not the Ritz but it's better than the nothing he had before so he looks forward to it.

The demon in the back of Calla's head still roars. Tonight won't be easy, tremors already in his fingers from going too long without a fix. He's glad the rooms are private and so far none of his Pokemon seem the type to burst out of their balls. He doesn't want them seeing this.

He's making his way back towards the center of town, towards the center, when a soft peeping cry rouses Calla to glance up. Under one of the trees lining the sidewalk is a little Taillow, he thinks that's what it's called, crying softly as it lays on its side. Frowning, Calla knows against his better judgment he can't just leave it there. So, he kneels down and tries to still his breathing before he speaks.

"Are you okay?" His voice cracks, but the bird doesn't seem to care as it picks itself up on wobbly feet- or, foot. The little blue bird is balancing on one foot, the other twisted in some gnarl of what a foot should look like. His frown deepens as two and two are quickly out together. A glance up at the branches overhead confirms it, too. This bird is very young and fell out of the nest.

Calla considers picking the Taillow up and seeing if he can stretch up enough to plop it back in the nest, but isn't there something about not touching baby birds? Or wasn't that a myth? Plus, what if this wound is too much for a wild pokemon and it dies? He can't just wash his hands and let nature take it's course, especially since he's heading towards a pokemon center anyway.....

He feels bad about taking a baby from it's parents, but they should have been around to help anyway. Careful to pull the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingers, he picks up the chick like he's made of glass and holds hi against his chest carefully. The chick cries and struggles for only a second before the effort is too much and he calms down, but Calla knows his little heart must be ready to beat out of his chest.

"It's alright. I got you." It feels kind of hollow to say since he doesn't even have himself, but Calla hopes the words at least sooth a little. Maybe the Joy will know what to do. Just maybe. Maybe if she does he'll just take this poor creature for himself, too.


Taillow is just a baby. He fell out of his nest and was destined to perish on the street before Calla happened upon him. His leg was broken and the healing is going slow, but he'll be okay as long as he doesn't push himself too much. Taillow is shy and quiet, unused to being far from his nest but warming to his new Trainer quickly. He sees Calla as a parent, someone to rely on and take care of him. He's not developed enough to do much talking, but sometimes he likes to chirp and sing simple melodies when he's feeling like being loud. So far his favorite this to do is nest in Calla's pockets with just his little beak sticking out.