Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or its characters. Nor do I want to own it for the amount of hate that the designers get for their Pokemon designs from generation to generation.

Rosa's POV:

My fingers seek out a low chord on the old upright piano, rattling against the wood as I jam my fingers into the keys. It reminded me of the thrum of wings and the low growl of Mom's now-deceased Liepard, bless his soul. But it's not quite right yet, I think, and I adjust one note. The chord is mildly discordant and clearly ugly, so I slide my pinkie down a half step, onto a black key. It's still in minor but it doesn't sound half as disturbed as it did before. Perfect. I hum a low note and play the same chord again. Meanwhile, rain drums against the windows. It's a chilly, rain-dappled spring, but I'm in a stormy, middle of summer mood, and my piano playing reflects upon it. I adjust my fingers, changing the tonality of the chord, and work on a moody chord progression. Humming another note, I let my fingers go to town, tapping out new harmonies for the melody inside my head.

I play these chords…and I think.

I've written a few songs before, but they were impersonal and cutesy at best. They were pop tunes, honestly, and the words were silly and without meaning. However, this song, this intertwining of slightly clashy notes and smooth transitions, feels like it could mean something. If I derive lyrics for this melody, I know for a fact that it'd mean something beautiful and moving.

But writing lyrics isn't my strong suit. It's infuriating, knowing a thousand melodies and not a single decent word to put to them.

Mom walks through the room as I pound out the piano harmony, humming the melody without words, rocking back and forth to the pulse. I can hear her Audino's plopping footsteps. "Rosa," Mom starts to ask, "are you writing another song?"

"Yes I am," I reply, quickly playing a chromatic scale up into a new key and continuing my chord progression.

She chuckles and responds, "I hope you figure out what you want to do with all these songs."

"I hope the same thing," I respond and swoop down to my ending notes and swivel to look at Mom and her Audino. Mom is pretty and looks like she isn't old enough to be my mother—people literally do ask if she's my older sister in all seriousness. She has all of three gray hairs on her head that aren't too noticeable, and I know those are from Dad's sudden and harsh exit. She has sandy hair always pulled into a knot at the crown of her head and warm brown eyes. Likewise, she has a proclivity for zany clothing and tries to make me dress similarly when I really have no clothing preferences. I realize she's won at her latest attempts to dress me in wild clothes; I'm wearing a blue and white baseball shirt and ruffled yellow shorts over black leggings with my long hair tied partially into twin buns.

Mom gives me a gentle smile. "I don't want to interrupt, but I have a very cool surprise for you."

A tune-up for my piano or a new amp for my bass? I think hopefully. Knowing Mom, there is something a little wilder and less understandable in store. She pats her Audino's head and says, "I heard from Aurea while you were playing piano."

She realizes that there's a blank look on my face, and she elaborates, "Aunt Aurea? Professor Juniper?"

Oh. The leading Pokémon Professor in this region. Mom's friends. I ask, "What did she need?" I know for a fact that the Professor, my mother's old friend and former neighbor, hasn't spoken to her since a week after Dad's disappearance two years ago. She's a busy woman who made friends with another really busy woman, my mother, and so they very rarely saw each other or spoke.

Mom replies, "She needs someone to complete a Unova Pokedex for her."

"Who?"

"She wants you to do it, of course!" she responds cheerily. I nearly fall off of the piano bench. Me? Why? Never in my life have I had a Pokémon. Audino, who is the sweetest Pokémon I've ever met, has no love for me. Mom's Liepard never had any fondness for me, either. Anyway, if I can't get an Audino to like me, how am I supposed to get any other species, all of which are far more violent, to like me and listen to me?

Mom seems to see the worried expression on my face and she reassures me, "You have my genetics, and you have your father's as well. Your father might suck as a parent, darling, but he was a great Trainer, and I almost defeated the League before I started working in the Pokémon Center, so I think you have a very good possibility of being an apt Trainer." She pauses, regaining her breath after her speech, and continues speaking. "Now, she said to go find a girl in a big, floppy green hat, and that she gets lost easily, even in small cities like our Aspertia City. Her name is Bianca. She'll give you your starter and your Pokedex."

My head seems to be spinning, but I don't believe that Mom notices.

She tosses something at me, and after I catch it, I realize it's a duffel bag that converts into a backpack. "Go out there. Find her. Get a Pokedex. Have fun."

I blink. "Right now?"

"Aurea likes to jump the gun, what can I say?" Mom says, ruffling one of my bun/pigtails affectionately. "Now GO ALREADY!" she booms, and I stumble away from the piano bench to exit the house.

I walk up the street, glancing back at my house. It's one-story and adorable—there aren't many like it in this city filled with multiple families living in an apartment complex. I'll miss it, even the tomato garden. Tomatoes are gross, but Mom sure loves growing them, forgetting about them, and then making me care for them instead.

The light rain is tapering out, leaving me slightly damp as I hop out of the gutter. My fingers itch to play the harmony I'd figured out on the piano. A lot has changed in such a short period of time, and I don't know what to think of it yet. I'm a musician on a good day and a capricious pencil-tapper surrounded by paper scraps while overdosing on hour-long symphonies and bluesy rock with heavy bass on a bad one. Pokémon aren't part of the composition of my life. I appreciate them and admire them, but I never even thought I'd see myself with any until just a few minutes ago.

"Rosa!"

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice. Walking down the street toward me is my friend Hugh with his younger sister, Taylor, holding onto his arm. Hugh has yet to hit a serious growth spurt, standing only two or three inches taller than me when he's nearing his seventeenth birthday, though his spiky, blue-black hair gives him some extra height. He has dark red eyes and wears a red and white jacket to match. In short, he can be a bit intimidating, even if he hasn't grown much yet. His sister Taylor contrasts him greatly. She can't be much older than nine, with pale, mousy hair, huge russet eyes, and warmer skin than her brother. Today, she's decked out in head-to-toe pink.

Presently, Hugh smirks when he notices my bewildered expression. "Spaced out, were we?" he asks, turning to walk towards me.

I nod, still wrapped up in both the melody of a wordless song and the fact that I'll suddenly be a Pokémon Trainer…as soon as I find this Bianca person. Taylor looks at me oddly; it's as though she knows what's in my head. Shooting her a meaningful glance, I say, "It looks like I'm leaving."

"What?" Hugh gives me a furtive look. "Why are you leaving? You just moved here like three years ago."

I throw up my hands defensively. "It's been, two, Hugh. But not like that! I'm going on a journey!" I say, pushing my sleeves up over my elbows.

Hugh's eyes brighten. "You mean you're actually getting a Pokémon?"

I give a nod and he fist pumps. However, he dampens down his excitement when he notices Taylor's expression. Why does Taylor have such a glum expression, anyway? She has always been so naturally light and chirpy, if not particularly talkative. Hugh says, "Well, good for you, Rosa. I thought you weren't planning on being a Trainer, though. I thought you were going to be a 'musician,'" he says, putting air quotes around the word.

I scowl at him. He's never been supportive of my idea in the two and a half years I've known him, but he's also obsessed with the idea of finding a rival and traveling the region. I chide, "Don't hate on my dreams."

"Just saying, considering the fact that you don't play in front of anyone aside from your mom. That isn't going to help you," he says matter-of-factly.

I respond sharply, "Maybe it's because no one else cares, Hugh. I'm going to go find the person who has my starter and my Pokedex." I continue walking, feeling cut by Hugh's words.

Hugh and Taylor trot after me, but I spare neither of them a glance. Have I ever made fun of his dreams, even if they're even more juvenile and colorful than mine? No. I think I have the right to be offended by what he said about my goals and dreams in life. Unlike Hugh, I've never vowed to be the best or the strongest. I just want to play my music. "Rosa, slow down," he calls, "I didn't mean to be rude."

"You're setting a bad example for Taylor!" I chime in a singsong voice.

I can almost hear the burn of Taylor's glare on Hugh's face. She murmurs, "You were mean, big brother."

Hugh sighs. "Okay, fine. Sorry, Rosa. Didn't realize I was being such a butthead. And don't copy big brother, all right, Taylor?"

I'm actually smiling now. At least his sister has given him some conscience over the years. When I first met him, he'd remark on everything with about as much tact as a starved Lillipup seeking food scraps. "Taylor, should we forgive him?" I ask.

Taylor replies, "I guess."

"That's a good enough answer for me," I say, shrugging melodramatically. If music doesn't work for me, I could always be an overly theatrical movie star, working for PokeStar Studios in Virbank City.

"You guys GUESS?" Hugh thunders. Then he sighs. "Look, Taylor, I'm going to drop you off at home when we walk by it, and then I'm going to go with Rosa while she gets her Pokémon."

Within two minutes, we're in front of the building Hugh lives in with Taylor and his mom. Their mom is outside. She's a formerly pretty woman who aged quickly when her husband took a job on an oil rig to the southeast of Humilau City. Her hair is ruffled and dark (albeit graying) like a toned-down version of Hugh's, and her eyes are russet like her daughter's. Up close, she has Pidove's feet in the corner of her eyes and more lines around her mouth than what was normal for her age: the signs of an anxious woman.

Taylor trots obediently over to her mom. Watching us closely as she embraces her daughter, Hugh's mom asks, "Hugh, Rosa, where are you two going?"

"On a journey!" Hugh yells, grabbing my arm. "But Rosa needs a Pokémon first."

She sighs, leaning on a broom she'd previously been sweeping with. It was rare that she wasn't cleaning; it was her nervous habit. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

I raise one hand awkwardly as I say, "My mom kicked me out of the house to work for Professor Juniper and complete a Pokedex."

"And this means I finally have a rival to help me get stronger," Hugh says to himself, but more loudly he says, "So don't worry about me. I'm leaving now." With my arm still in a death grip, he waves to his mom one last time before dragging me out of eyeshot of the house. I doubt his mom is going to be very happy with him if he doesn't return to explain things to her.

"So the only reason you're leaving is because I'm leaving?" I ask incredulously.

Hugh gives me a pointed look and retorts, "Yeah. I need a rival who isn't a twelve year old trying to mimic that Kanto Champion Red's style. Problems?"

Hugh stops suddenly, and we're standing on the street corner about a block past his house. The Pokémon Center is visible from here; two young Trainers with a pair of Lillipups are battling each other just outside of it. "Hey, Rosa, where's this green hat lady at?" he asks, gazing at me with questioning mercury eyes.

I give a helpless shrug. "I was just told to go look for her. She gets lost a lot, I guess."

"Fantastic," Hugh mutters. He sweeps his arm out to the side. "Lead the way, then."

I sigh. It's going to be a long afternoon with Hugh if we don't find Bianca, isn't it?

"Well, Hugh, we can conclude she's nowhere near your apartment building, the Pokémon Center, or in front the Gym that'll be opening soon."

"We can also conclude that we, as trainers, are screwed if the professor of this region sends someone into a city she's never been and doesn't tell her where to go…because then that means they're both idiots."

"Oh. I called my mom. Apparently, Bianca was given directions to the Pokémon Center."

"…but she wasn't there. There wasn't anyone in a green hat there."

I sighed. "I guess she's really lost, huh?"

It's past three in the afternoon, and Hugh and I have scoured a good chunk of the city. There's no one in a green hat around, nor does anyone look particularly lab assistant-y. We're sitting on a curb directly across from the Pokémon Center. If the growing silence between us means anything, Hugh's at a point where he'll soon be pissed beyond words. I'm not particularly angry about being unable to find Bianca; Hugh, on the other hand, will probably hold a grudge against her for the rest of his days unless we find her in the next fifteen minutes.

I think for a few minutes, trying to shut off the music in my brain and simultaneously decide where Bianca could've gone to. We hadn't checked some of the apartment complexes earlier, but I doubt that we're going to find some professor's assistant in an apartment complex.

"We could go up to the lookout," I suggest, nodding up to the top of the large hill that shadowed the town. "We could look for a green hat from up there, you know."

"Don't want to," Hugh mutters, but we still get off the curb, anyway. Doing something is better than doing nothing, knowing him. I've heard stories, from some of the friends he'd had in grade school, about how he used to get in trouble in class for drumming his fingers, tapping pencils, and playing roughly out at recess. After spending a lot of time with him since I moved to this city, I know he isn't trying to make trouble when he does things like that. He's just filled with somewhat volatile energy and constantly feels so caustically impatient that some people can't really put up with him.

Reaching the base of the hill, Hugh's spirits seem to lift. "I'll race you to the top," he suggests, a wry grin warming up his cool features.

I nod…and take off. "Hey!" Hugh barks, but I'm flying. If there's anything aside from music that I love deeply, it's running. I have long legs for my height and a natural love of movement. Hugh struggles to gain on me as I dash, laughing, up the hill, my bag bouncing against my thigh.

"You little twit!" Hugh yells at me, not unkindly. I bark with laughter again and sprint to the top of the lookout, leaping to the top of the hill.

"I beat you!" I exclaim, hands on my hips, and Hugh growls as he comes in second, not at all closely.

That's when a new voice interrupts Hugh before he can as much as snap at me. It's female and chirpy, probably only our age or a few years older. "Hey, are you Rosa?" this voice asks as I turn around. Standing behind us is a curvy young woman with fluffy blonde hair and wire-frame glasses…wearing a floppy green hat. She's Bianca.

I smile. "Yes, and you're Bianca with the green hat," I say, gesturing to her hat. She adjusts it and trots over, carrying a case in one hand and an oversized bag on the other. Stopping in front of me, she looks at Hugh questioningly.

"Not here for a Pokémon. I already have one," he says tersely. He backs up and walks partway down the stairs, leaving Bianca and I alone.

She blinks. "He's an intense boy, huh? Totally like Cheren in that sense," she murmurs to no one in particular and then holds out the case, dropping the bag to the floor. "Pick a Pokémon, Rosa. Aurea spoke highly of you; she tells me you have almost as much potential as my best friend did…" she trails off, her eyes darkening a little, but then she brightens up and says, "So! Pick a Pokémon."

I open the case and see three Pokeballs sitting in the case. "What can I choose from?" I ask.

"Snivy, the Grass-type, Tepig, the Fire-type, and Oshawott, the Water-type," she says, smiling brightly, pointing to each one as she names off the species.

Ah. I picture each. Snivy is a stuck-up and serpentine; I can't picture myself with one. Plus, Hugh already has one. He'd make remarks about how we had the same Pokemon constantly. Then, I imagine Tepig. It's energetic, long-eared and hog-nosed; a Tepig would be all right. But as soon as I think of Oshawott, I know it's for me. An Oshawott is a sweet little thing with a round face and dark eyes. It might grow up into something fierce, but in the meantime, the Water-type could take some time getting adjusted to me and vice versa. "I'll take Oshawott," I say, taking the Pokeball. I tentatively press the button on the ball and release the little Pokémon.

Blinking in the sunshine, the Pokémon looks up at me. "Osh?" it asks. It must've wondered how it came to be here with some strange brunette girl.

I find myself smiling at it. "Hello, I'm Rosa!" I say, crouching to its level. I hold out a hand to it, and Oshawott pokes it tentatively with a paw.

Bianca says, "Your Oshawott happens to be a female, by the way. Would you like to nickname her?"

I'm silent as Oshawott—my cute female Oshawott—continues poking at my hand before deciding to nuzzle her face against it. Her actions surprise me. How kind of you, I think, and I stroke my hand along the side of her face, earning a gentle noise of happiness from her. "You're pretty sweet," I murmur, "but you evolve into some scary things. Like Samurott."

I hear Bianca laugh. She comments, "Samurott is pretty fierce-looking, I'll give it that."

"I wish you could tell me what sort of name you'd like," I say to Oshawott, who is now cuddling against my legs.

She looks up at me with dark, glossy eyes that hold a spark of life so brilliant that she inspires words instead of melodies inside my mind for once. Snippets of lyrics string themselves together in my brain, and I make sure to shove them in with the music in my brain as to not forget them. But this tells me one thing: this Oshawott is an inspiration for me. A muse…that's it! "Muse," I say sharply, startling Oshawott for a brief moment. "Do you want to be called Muse?"

Oshawott ponders on this for a moment and then gives a nod. I smile and pick her up—I have a muse named Muse, or so it seems. This excites me. Never before have I had a muse, let alone a Pokemon, and I'm not quite sure which aspect of Muse is more exciting to me. "Bianca, thank you," I say sincerely as Muse curls into my shoulder, seeking warmth.

Bianca scratches the back of her head. "Oh, don't thank me. I just delivered the Pokémon. " Then, she tosses me something, and I catch it with my free hand. "And here's your Pokedex." I look at the gray and pink device, and I stuff it into my bag. I'll play with it later, but for right now, I need to adjust to the idea that I have a Pokémon when I was concerned about how to make the piano part for the song in my head sound smoother just a few hours before.

"Hey, have you picked your Pokémon yet?" Hugh has picked an opportune time to reappear. He sees me with an Oshawott and laughs. "Arceus, Rosa, I thought you were going to pick Tepig, since it's strong against my Snivy."

"I don't care what you have. I like Muse, and she's the right choice for me," I say. Muse chatters something in response and butts her head under my chin. She actually seems fond of me!

Bianca walks up to Hugh, who seems to raise his eyebrows (you can't really tell under all of that dark, spiky hair) as she studies him closely. Then, she shrugs and steps back. "If we blended you and Rosa into one person, you'd be exactly like White. You, mister, are like the cool, calculating part of her, and Rosa is like the doting and reasonable part."

Hugh's jaw drops. White is the renowned Champion and Hero of Truth…or, at least, formerly the champion. The general public doesn't know this for sure, but she either gave up her post or lost to a challenger and then left Unova. Some say she's searching for something or someone—not that it's really anyone's business.

Anyway, Hugh is completely delighted at this knowledge and turns to me, pointing at Muse and me. "Well, guess what, Rosa? If we're both like Champion White, then let's who's really more like her!" he roars, grabbing his Pokeball from his belt. I wonder if he realizes how lame and jumbled he'd just sounded. Regardless, he releases his Snivy. With garnet eyes and a smug, snobby expression, he looks used to a life of luxury and glamor, even if Hugh's family doesn't really possess any of that. Hugh gives a savage grin as he adds, "I raised this Pokémon from an egg. There's no way some greenhorn like you is going to take us down."

Bianca sighs. "I'm not sure you're the best opponent for her first battle—"

Hugh cuts her off. "I'm not that much stronger. I hatched Snivy all of six months ago and there's no one to battle around here. I'll bet they're even at the same level," he says, and before I can protest, he calls for Snivy to use Tackle on Muse.

Snivy charges at Muse. She braces herself as I blurt, "Muse! Dodge that! Uh...you use Tackle, too!"

Muse seems to relax at the sound of a command and spins easily out of the way before ramming into Snivy. The smug-looking Pokémon doesn't look as smug as he did a few seconds prior to the attack and growls.

Hugh doesn't take the blow lightly. "Don't take her crap, Snivy. Leer!" Muse shudders under Snivy's red-eyed glare, and I can't blame her. The Grass-Type starter has mean eyes, even if he isn't so despicable outside of battle.

Instinctively, I know her other move. "Tail Whip!" I cry. Muse waggles her tail adorably at Snivy, and he stops a moment, gazing at her with gentler eyes. Without a verbal cue from me, Muse uses Tackle again and nearly floors Snivy.

Hugh is losing confidence. He doesn't like that someone who's never taken a clear interest in Pokémon is doing better than him. "Snivy, use Tackle!"

Snivy charges Muse again, but we're both prepared. As I call her to Tackle him back, she's gotten the same idea, as she charges headlong into his Tackle even as I order the attack, ramming him back. Snivy struggles to get up as Muse smirks, straightening the scalchop on her stomach. "Wott, osha," she says proudly.

"Snivy, come on! We have to be stronger than them! Tackle her, Snivy! I know you can!" Hugh cries, desperate. Snivy's eyes brighten at Hugh's encouragement and he charges at Muse again.

I smile. This odd sense of aggressiveness has risen in me, but it's cool and calculated, unlike my erratic and fluctuating musical side. "Muse. Tackle him," I say calmly. She gives me an assertive nod over her shoulder and gracefully swirls out of Snivy's path before shoving him over almost gently.

Snivy doesn't get back up this time.

Hugh stands there in total shock, gazing at his KO-ed Pokémon with hazy eyes. Shaking his head, he returns Snivy to its Pokeball. Then, he looks up at me with eyes that are clear and fierce and he says, "I really underestimated you. You're going to be a good rival, but don't think I'm going to take it easy on you ever again." He pauses, and then focuses on Bianca. "Hey. You have the Pokedex, right?"

"I guess I have a second one, if you want it. I'm sure Professor Juniper will understand if I give a devoted Trainer a Pokedex," she says, and before Hugh can answer, she tosses him a blue and black one. He catches it and stares at it for a few moments, seemingly shocked by the sudden turn of events.

Hugh nods to Bianca. "Thank you." He turns to me. "I'll be seeing you around, but I have to battle and become better than you so I can beat you next time." He shoots me a rare smile and shoots off down the steps

I smile back, feeling some warmth in my cheeks against the bitter wind as I crouch down to congratulate Muse. "That was a good battle," I praise, and she is thrilled that her new Trainer is pleased with her. She butts her head into my hands and nuzzles her nose into them.

"You're a natural!" I hear Bianca exclaim. "You should check your Trainer Card and see how much money you won from your battle."

"Trainer Card? I—" Muse moves to my side and nudges my pocket. I stick my hand into it and find a hard piece of digitized plastic in it. "What the heck?!" I yelp, drawing out the Trainer Card. On it is a full body shot of me wearing gray skinny jeans, a turquoise tank-top and my hair combed into two low pigtails, looking bored. I recognize the photograph. It's one from about two weeks ago, when my mom said she wanted a picture of me standing by her favorite tomato plant. One might ask why I didn't question why my mother would want to do that, but she is not a normal woman by anyone's standards. I'd grown used to her strange ways.

I think my mom was a little more aware of Bianca's coming than she let on. Bianca laughs at my facial expression. "Enjoy your journey. Your rival's gonna encourage you to get much better."

She starts to leave, and I have a sudden feeling. Scooping Muse into my arms, I say, "Bianca, I have to be honest. Before I saw Muse, I didn't really want to do this, and being Champion or any of that isn't my dream. I want to become a musician."

Bianca turns and gives a shrug. "Who says you can't have it all?" she says, and then trots down the stairs, humming a military march under her breath.

Muse gazes up at me, looking a little sad. She must be worried that I don't actually want her, since I'd rather be a musician. I do something strange and kiss the top of her head. "Don't worry. I think you're fabulous," I tell her, "and you're such a good little warrior. We're going to be good friends, even if you're the first Pokémon who's ever actually shown any love."

Muse bumps her nose against mine. The gesture says, I really like you, and I'll stay with you no matter what you do. I find myself grinning as I say, "We're going to the Pokémon Center. We'll get you healed up, and then let's leave this town, why don't we?"

If I have Muse with me, I think traveling and battling won't be so bad, even if I don't have an ounce of experience under my belt.

A/N: Hello and welcome to "It's not exactly Soulsilvershipping, but Soulsilvershipping isn't everything...right?" *hears crickets chirping in the background* "Well, anyway, no one can write JUST Soulsilvershipping." If you aren't catching my drift, my first fic on here was It's Been A While, a Soulsilvershipping fic, but I digress. I sound like I'm self-promoting, and that's pretty lame. Plus, y'all are probably busy reading fics about the characters of Kalos (I haven't been able to get the game yet because I'm broke AND I already owe people money, darn it. TAT)

So, as a student of music and the arts, I just had to write a story with heavy musical influences. Plus, if we're going to make anyone a musician, doesn't it make sense to make Rosa a musician? The zany clothing, the wild cities in the Unova, the cool music in the games...it couldn't be ignored. I saw a vague connection, and I jumped on it.

I've obviously taken some liberties here. After much searching for Hugh's sisters name and asking my friends for advice (the common consensus was that I call her Brunhilda and so I decided that this was a shitty thing to ask my oh-so-clever allies in the game known as life), I came up dry and decided that Hugh and Taylor sounded nice paired together, and so henceforth, the sister shall be Taylor. Plus, the Unova was a really Western region-it was based off of New York City, anyway. So, western, Americanized names for this one, if at all possible.

For the most part, this story follows the events of the game plot, but-again. I'm taking some liberties. Since Rosa is a very musical and artistic young woman, there will be a lot that happens with her that aren't part of the game, thought it won't alter the basic storyline of doing some Team Plasma ass-kicking and whatnot.

Unlike my first fic, IBAW, I will not be updating every couple of days. My first five priorities are: music (I had an audition for an upper-level jazz ensemble with my tenor sax three days ago, my last marching show of the season tonight, and I'm currently embroiled in some last-minute memorization for a very challenging choir concert on Monday), school (no idea how I'm keeping my GPA up this term), family/friends (social lives are hard work for antisocial musician/writers who don't have nearly enough time to be musical or literary), sleep (?), and getting caught up on various series so I don't get killed by my friends (I can't believe we have to wait another year for the next book in the Heroes of Olympus series...and Homestuck is ENDING?).

Thanks in advance for putting up with a single chapter of this for now. I might put up the second chapter (which is complete) by the end of the weekend, but I can't promise anything there, either.

Please review! The author thrives of the words of other human beings...