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[Voice / Potential Action]

[The sound of rushing waves is not something Guzma expected to hear as he slowly came into consciousness. For a moment, even through the haze of his still waking mind, he almost expects to have come home, back to Alola, but the blazing sun above, the hot sand at his back, and the cool lick of clear seawater at his feet tells him otherwise. It's too quiet to be anywhere in Alola... Tourist line the beaches even in the early hours - exercising, walking, enjoying the stunning views of the rising sun...

This is different.

Yet...familiar.

Rolling over to his side, Guzma picks himself up, and isn't at all surprised to find a backpack with his name etched into it. Haha...well now. Guess this place still had some need of him. He searches not the backpack, but first his pockets, and spits a curse all over again. Two...just two. Of course he wouldn't be lucky enough to keep the third, like in Havenwell. Not here. Nothing here ever comes easy. He'll see who was kept and who was left behind in due time, but he knows the weight of Golisopod's pokeball, it's always with him. His partner through thick and thin....inseparable through everything the multiverse throws at them. Hah.

He dusts the sand out of his hair and clothes, sighing as he shoulders the bag and picks out the familiar stone, giving it a tap with his finger before he clicks his tongue. What time is it? Who the hell knows? Guzma doesn't give a damn - he's been woken up by this thing time and time again, so it's high time he repaid the favor.]

Yo, yo, yo - it's ya boy. Guess me n' them islands not done our song and dance, yeah? Roll call, public of Enso - chime in what who's still living the ding dang dream.

[And as he walks, beelining for the mana pool to head to his old islet home (and evict anyone who may have taken up residence), he's keeping an eye out for...certain people.]

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[Did anything happen?]

[Well, they might as well answer that. It's an easier question to handle than the emotional discharge they just opened up on this conversation. And it's the least they can do.]

yes
last thing you remember?

[Oh boy, that is a good question, isn’t it? Guzma hums thoughtfully, trying to suppress all the memories past of what he learned in Havenwell, all the names, faces, people he’s met and things he’s done, trying to fight through the mire of this memories to reach back to a world he left however long ago.]

I think...dragons? There was that island that pitted up against one another. [He growls softly, grip tight on his stone as he remembers it. Fuck that island. It was definitely top shelf of the worst ones he’s experienced, and that’s saying something.] Then there was that water dragon thing? Is that still around? Boy...been through so much, I don’t even know anymore what’s from this world and what’s from that other place and what’s from home.

This janked up world-hopping is spinning my head ‘round, yo.

water
still here
they are a god

[Just to...you know, lay the groundwork there.]

have started bringing other islands back

Yeah, yeah...knew that much. [About the godhood thing, anyway, though he clicks his tongue to the islands coming back, humming thoughtfully as the splash of water fills the stone before there's a soft exhale and the swift shaking of fabric. Seems someone made it to, and through, the mana pool.]

Islands coming back is new though... Why're they being so chummy all'a sudden? How's ol' Cottontail doing 'bout that?

do not like it
have not spoken to them

[The Drifter...doesn't tend to bother them very often. In their experience, if gods have something that they genuinely and vitally need you to know, they come to you.]

water and storyteller are opposed
do not know how much
or why

[He grumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose, sighing and shaking his head. So the Storyteller and Water are still at each other's throats, hm? That's not surprising, they were fighting like cats and dogs, so...]

Kinda weird, though, isn't it? This Water thing showing up all'a sudden, bringing islands back for whatever reason. Why now? What's it want outta all this? Tch...I never bothered with this sorta crap b'fore, and I don't know if I wanna start now. Too much work, and I got 'nuff of that to worry 'bout now that I'm back here...

[He sighs again, scratching at his chin with his free hand.] Hope some'a my cooking gear's still 'round...

don't know

[But the Drifter hasn't asked very many questions of any of the gods. That's not really their style.]

can check house
some may have kept it

[The Drifter ought to have considered it...they hadn't before. They should have. It's just that they didn't know when he vanished.]

[That is entirely fair. Guzma hadn't expected anyone to really offer, or even take up what he owned - he had few friends here, and less that were still around as far as he knew - but the offer does make him smile a bit, despite himself. Those aforementioned few friends...the Drifter certainly is one of the closest he's had. They're a good sort, and he missed them. It's good to know they're safe, and doing well.]

Hey, don't sweat it. If it's gone, it's gone. I can ask the rabbit for more stuff if'n I need it, yeah? N' I ain't so noble as to not eat my hands, yo.

have stories to share
if needed

[It's not like the Drifter's using them for much. They seldom have. Most of their stories have been to the contribution of bettering everyone else's standards of living. The library, for one. They haven't needed much beyond those group efforts.]

[So helping him get his stuff back with some of their stories is a worthy endeavor.]

[He sighs, shaking his head as Guzma takes a break from his walk to enjoy the shade. Man...how has he forgotten the Drifter's such a rad dude? He chuckles quietly, a hiss through his teeth, and leans back against one of the many bent palm trunks of the island.]

Fine...doubt I could stop you if y'all made up your mind. I'll let y'know what I need and what I could probably get'a hold of myself, yeah? But don't think you're giving me this stuff for free, homie, I got your back. An eye for an eye, yeah? You ever need a favor, I got you.

you always do

[As if his loyalty was ever in doubt. It never was, and never has been. The islands may have separated them, but that does not mean they are not still capable of reaching out to one another. Particularly now.]

[There's a pause, as Guzma reads that one line, and he can't help but smile. Actually smile - a rarity for the surly giant. But he meant what he said, and so did they, clearly. A bond, unshaken and unbreakable, despite the time apart. It's...nice. Nostalgic. Feels almost like home again, when he was surrounded by his brother and sisters, his 'family' who loved him unconditionally, despite who he was and how he acted in his anger. Who saw past that.]

Always.

[What else is there to say about that? They've never been very good at sentiment, even when they are making this small, fragile effort. So. Moving on - ]

current location?

[In case, you know, you wanted to catch up in person.]

[Give him a minute, it's...been a while since Guzma traveled via the mana pools. Plus, there's a whole lotta mess wherehis usual home used to be (and a whole lot of cursing on Guzma's part). It takes several minutes for him to respond - well after he's calmed down. Most stuff was taken, of course, but...woof. The mess.]

Back at my old place. Just arrived. Tch, s'worse than my old joint in Po Town... Uh, hate to be that guy, man, but if'n y'got nothing better to do, I could sure use a hand cleaning the place up.

can be there soon

[He doesn't know that they're on the islets, more or less living there, does he? Or maybe he does, and isn't mentioning it. Either way, it's a small price to pay to see him again. They can more than handle a bit of mess.]

Don't rush, homie, I got no where else to go.

[For real, this is..well, as close to "home" as he can get in this world. Guzma sighs, turning the stone off as he begins to tidy up. Thankfully, not everything was taken, but...what wasn't was damaged significantly. He's going to have to request new kitchenware, a new storage device...the cooler had some, uh... gifts left behind by the slypers, as well as each handle bitten off. Not to mention an enormous crack running from the bottom of it up one side. The fuck were they doing with it?! Jeez...

At least his hammock was untouched, mostly. There was fur all over the blankets and pillows, as well as stuffing and the rancid smell of...ick all over them, but he can at least scrub it raw and toss the pillow and blankets.

His door is wide open, and Guzma is tossing broken pieces of debris out the front door, also sweeping with a large palm frond. A trick he learned from the older folks in Alola, when he was super duper little. It's not the best broom, but it works in a pinch. Keeps his hands clean of most of the dried dung the slypers left in their wake. Must've been using this place as a den for a while before moving on... Little fuckers.]

[Is the Drifter ever not in a rush?]

[...not so much these days, actually. The month they spent in a period of forced stillness has more or less required that they grow more accustomed to tranquility whenever it is foisted upon them. But on this occasion, they haven't seen Guzma in a while. It's because they haven't seen him that they do rush a bit - and they're there in about ten minutes, give or take.]

[It's nice to see him in person. Real.]

[Their companion sprite chirps once they stand in the open door to signal their presence, so as not to take him unawares.]

[Is it nice? Is it really?

Perhaps in some instances, maybe, but boy howdy...there's a growing pile of trash outside Guzma's house, and if not for those shit-eating (literally) bugs that he knows exist in this world, it'd probably smell a whole lot worse on the inside than it does. When he said the Slypers made a den here, he...wasn't kidding. Thankfully, Golisopod was able to drown the place with a much more, erm....tame version of a Waterfall attack, but...woof. Some serious scrubbing is going to have to happen at one point soon.

That is, after Guzma shouts from inside, before the poor sprite has a chance to beep at him.]

--CKERS TOOK MY BOOMBOX! I'MA STUFF AND MOUNT THE NEXT ONE I SEE!!

[Oh, dear. The Drifter hurries in faster, because Guzma sounds apoplectic in there and while they're relatively certain that it's not because he's under attack, it does no one any good to see their friends in distress. It might not smell terribly great in here, but the Drifter has a cowl covering most of the lower half of their face. It's not a problem.]

[They peer inside, at the disarray, and then at Guzma.]

[Hey, bud.]

you ok?

[He is not in any danger, no, but he seems...frustrated. Irritated? It's a mixture of many emotions all bubbling and brewing under his skin as his teeth grind together. He's...sans a shirt, pants rolled up and sweating from the work he did up to this point - it's hot as balls on these islands, and no less cool inside when you're cleaning most of the morning - but blinks when he sees the Drifter enter into where he was just about to exit.

The door of his room is wide open, and perhaps the "cleanest" of the bunch so far. It's where he started first, considering he, uh...would like to sleep in there, perhaps. If he can stomach it. Maybe the Storyteller can gift him with a bucket, mop, and 4 gallons of rubbing alcohol...and a six-pack Lysol wipes. That'd be grand. Anyway, Guzma wipes his brow and, uh....w-well. He hesitates now, just about to clap his buddy on the shoulder. May not want to do that right now.]

Oh...hey. [...Hope you haven't been there long.]

[Only a minute or two, bud. Don't worry. They're not about to tell anyone about your explosive temper about the cleanliness of the place.]

a mess

[The Drifter notes it with the same clinical, matter-of-fact air that they use for everything. No judgment. He clearly wasn't responsible for this.]

may take time to make livable

[They're here to help, but then...it might take more than a day's work or so. The wildlife has had its way with the place, it seems. If they'd known this would happen, they would have stepped in to take care of the place in his absence. Anything.]

...Dang, dude, y'don't gotta call me out like that.

[Fair though, it is a...complete mess. Guzma is normally used to messes - the Team Skull hideout wasn't exactly the cleanest of places, broken glass and debris, spray paint smattering the walls and floor, boxes and random furniture strewn every which way and in places they don't belong...but this? This is on a level far above just a gang of misfits coming in and wrecking the place.]

The whole place doesn't have to be perfect - just my room so I can, y'know... sleep tonight, but the rest I can just scrub a bit and really, uh...deep clean some other time. [He mumbles something a bit, about making an SOS on the network for maybe people with magic. They can do stuff like that, right? Clean with magic? He's pretty sure there was movie about like...a Raticate wearing a pointy hat and making some brooms come to life or something.]

do not need to sleep here

[The tacit offer is out before they can take the time to contemplate the wisdom of it. Living in one static location had been a frustrating adjustment, and even if now they've grown relatively accustomed to it, that doesn't mean they're familiar with spending the days and nights with company. Even temporarily.]

[But if it comes down to it, they'd rather Guzma spend the place somewhere clean and dry than a place like this one, if it can't all be cleared out in time.]

[There's a swift pause as Guzma was going to continue cleaning with a rag (really, just a cut up shirt he snagged from the clothing pile before coming straight home), but he turns his head towards the Drifter slowly as his one eyebrow lifts up nearly to the rim of his sunglasses. This is...new and extremely unexpected.]

Are...are you inviting me to crash over? [People don't usually do that for him? Not often, anyway, all things considered, and he needs a moment to really weigh that. It'd be....well, it'd be a lot easier on him. He could sleep comfortably, rise early, then take a full stab at getting together anything and everything he needs to deep clean, and the pros heavily outweigh the cons here. But, uh--]

Do you even have a place to stay? [No offense meant, Guzma just always thought the Drifter like...traveled. It's in their name, after all.]

[The Drifter tugs at their cowl, the closest thing they come to a self-conscious display. They're aware it's a strange request, but their view on it is that it's simply stranger that they're the one making the rest - not that Guzma is the one the request is being made to. He's been nothing but kind to them.]

[But they nod.]

been watching a friend's place

[Something they're more comfortable saying now. A friend.]

did not know to watch yours too

[Voice / Potential Action]

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WTF DREAMWIDTH ATE THIS??

GOD DW RUDE

SERIOUSLY it's been doing that a lot lately. >:\

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