The last thing Armin remembers is settling down for bed, closing his eyes, and then suddenly he had been here. Wherever here might be.
For a moment he wonders if this is what it feels like to go back to your own world, but no, that can't be. This looks nothing like the world he hails from, and in any case, aren't you supposed to not remember your stay in the pokemon world? Armin can remember his perfectly clear, the people he had met, the pokemon he had befriended. So... he can't be home. But if he isn't home, where is he?
Shaking his head, he tries to refocus. He seems to be in a little wooden... hut? There is something strangely familiar about it, the itch of a forgotten memory at the back of his mind. It feels like he has seen this place before, but where? Not back in his own world, but somewhere during his time in the pokemon world, perhaps? He frowns to himself, chewing his lip as he tries to dig through his memories, trying to find something familiar. He trails his fingers over the edge of a wooden workbench, glancing around him. The little hut he is inside of is rather cluttered. Each wall seems to be covered in racks and storage units, tons of little drawers drawing the eye. The desk is equally cluttered - sheaves of parchment and a kettle and strange leaves and odd little plants in little pots. There are more odds and ends hanging from the ceiling - large feathers in various colours and an odd horn, pieces of wood and what might be cages.
Turning, he tries to find something that'll jog his memory, but in the cluttered little space, his elbow knocks into a wooden broom, sending it to the ground with a loud clatter.
The clatter of the broom seemed to be the trigger for some commotion outside the small shack Armin had found himself in, strange sounds such as scurrying and the clatter of hooves audible followed by the strange screech of what was most likely a bird of some sort and then a voice.
"Yes yes, I heard it as well. I promise you it was nothing," the voice said, setting something down and moved another thing--a wheelbarrow perhaps?--before footsteps drew closer to the small shack. "It was probably the Niffler getting into something--"
The door was pulled open and Armin would find himself face to face with someone he'd recognize, someone that looked rather confused for a moment before recognition seemed to set in for him as well.
"A-Armin?" Newt stammered, the wizard looking much more disheveled than normal as he'd been in the process of cleaning various habitats. Pickett was perched on his shoulder and the Bowtruckle scuttled closer to Newt's neck as he peered at the blonde as well as he chirped curiously. "Wait but..but you.."
Someone had forgotten about his adventures in the Pokemon World until this very moment. Thanks for that memory jog, Armin.
Armin shot around when he heard the door open, his arms full of the broom and the various odds and ends it had knocked down. He had intended to put it all back into place, or at least what he thought was the proper place, though the moment he saw who exactly was standing in the opened door, he forgot all about that. It was only reflex that still had him holding onto the items rather than just dropping them to the floor in shock.
"M- Mr Newt?" His voice rose high in questions, his eyes blown wide in surprise. This was not-- he hadn't-- Was this a dream? Just something thought up by his brain while he slept? Would he be waking up any minute now, tucked inside a warm mess of blankets, right in time to turn off his alarm before it started its infernal chirp?
At least now you know why this place looked familiar, a small useless part of his brain insisted on pointing out. It was not particularly helpful.
Magical assistant
For a moment he wonders if this is what it feels like to go back to your own world, but no, that can't be. This looks nothing like the world he hails from, and in any case, aren't you supposed to not remember your stay in the pokemon world? Armin can remember his perfectly clear, the people he had met, the pokemon he had befriended. So... he can't be home. But if he isn't home, where is he?
Shaking his head, he tries to refocus. He seems to be in a little wooden... hut? There is something strangely familiar about it, the itch of a forgotten memory at the back of his mind. It feels like he has seen this place before, but where? Not back in his own world, but somewhere during his time in the pokemon world, perhaps? He frowns to himself, chewing his lip as he tries to dig through his memories, trying to find something familiar. He trails his fingers over the edge of a wooden workbench, glancing around him. The little hut he is inside of is rather cluttered. Each wall seems to be covered in racks and storage units, tons of little drawers drawing the eye. The desk is equally cluttered - sheaves of parchment and a kettle and strange leaves and odd little plants in little pots. There are more odds and ends hanging from the ceiling - large feathers in various colours and an odd horn, pieces of wood and what might be cages.
Turning, he tries to find something that'll jog his memory, but in the cluttered little space, his elbow knocks into a wooden broom, sending it to the ground with a loud clatter.
no subject
"Yes yes, I heard it as well. I promise you it was nothing," the voice said, setting something down and moved another thing--a wheelbarrow perhaps?--before footsteps drew closer to the small shack. "It was probably the Niffler getting into something--"
The door was pulled open and Armin would find himself face to face with someone he'd recognize, someone that looked rather confused for a moment before recognition seemed to set in for him as well.
"A-Armin?" Newt stammered, the wizard looking much more disheveled than normal as he'd been in the process of cleaning various habitats. Pickett was perched on his shoulder and the Bowtruckle scuttled closer to Newt's neck as he peered at the blonde as well as he chirped curiously. "Wait but..but you.."
Someone had forgotten about his adventures in the Pokemon World until this very moment. Thanks for that memory jog, Armin.
no subject
"M- Mr Newt?" His voice rose high in questions, his eyes blown wide in surprise. This was not-- he hadn't-- Was this a dream? Just something thought up by his brain while he slept? Would he be waking up any minute now, tucked inside a warm mess of blankets, right in time to turn off his alarm before it started its infernal chirp?
At least now you know why this place looked familiar, a small useless part of his brain insisted on pointing out. It was not particularly helpful.