(no subject)
[In a quieter area of the CMA, there is a Silver. He's sitting underneath a tree, alternatively reading or scribbling in a battered notebook he has balanced on his knees. He looks tired and tense, with dark circles under his eyes and a stiff posture.
Occasionally, as he flicks through pages of his jittery, cramped handwriting, he will murmur to himself lists of dates and times. Rarely, he will absently reach down to pat the head, or, even more rarely, scratch behind the ears of the Typhlosion napping at his side; as it's not sleeping deeply, it sighs in contentment.
If one were to look closely at them, however, they would notice something odd: their outlines seem hazy. Flickery, almost. Or do they? It's hard to tell in the shade of the tree. But it would be harder to ignore the soft hiss of static around them: it's not noisy or harsh, but it never stops.
In summary: come bother a tetchy AU Silver. you know you want to.]
Occasionally, as he flicks through pages of his jittery, cramped handwriting, he will murmur to himself lists of dates and times. Rarely, he will absently reach down to pat the head, or, even more rarely, scratch behind the ears of the Typhlosion napping at his side; as it's not sleeping deeply, it sighs in contentment.
If one were to look closely at them, however, they would notice something odd: their outlines seem hazy. Flickery, almost. Or do they? It's hard to tell in the shade of the tree. But it would be harder to ignore the soft hiss of static around them: it's not noisy or harsh, but it never stops.
In summary: come bother a tetchy AU Silver. you know you want to.]