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GUESS WHO GOT PHOTOSHOP FOR CHRISTMAS? AND GUESS WHO DECIDED IT WAS LONG OVERDUE TO REDRAW THIS FOX? It's been a long time in coming. Well over a year (ho geez). I figured, what better way to break in the new program then to draw the reason for all these good things and all my friends here on DA. A'course, I'll probably end up redrawing her again when I understand the program better, but YAY REDRAWN EVELYN WITH NOT SO HERMIT CLOTHING.

NAME: Evelyn Hawthorne

NICKNAME: Eve, Mapleleaf, Willow, Evvie

AGE: 28

BIRTHDAY: Dec 18th

GENDER: Female

NATURE: Quiet

POKEMON / HUMAN: Ninetales (Special- pure white)

HOMETOWN: Lavender Town

HISTORY: “We'll just have to make due.”
Those six words were the story of her life, the tale of her adventures. Evelyn, an albino Pokemon in almost every right, was born the second child of three to Ninetales fair. With not much to their family name, her youngest years were spent in a modest home on the outskirts of Lavender. Raised as a lady by her caring, though, at times, a bit strict, parents, she was born atop a legacy of Priests that spanned back quite a few generations. Though, while her father's vocation by choice was indeed his beloved career, something about the dead was dearly unsettling to the pure white Vulpix.
So, she adapted. Her little paws wandered off one particularly sunny afternoon, abandoning the little fenced of yard that was her entire world. Massive, giant wooden shapes came to swallow her up, trees of which she had never seen before. They reached right up to the very heavens, their branches spanning across the sky, seemingly to have been holding it up forever. Crimson eyes wide with wonder, like a sylph she danced and played among the undergrowth, twirling amidst the bushes, dancing with the branches, conversing with the trees. This... This new, wonderful place. It wasn't simply a forest. It was an entire new world; a world with heroes and villains, a place where, honestly, she could do anything she wanted.
It captivated her.
Words became her art, her song. Words upon a page, in her mind, they consumed her. Like a book her memories became, tellings of stories that were not hers, wrapping about her in a wonderful fantasy. She gave names to everything, giving them their own tales of adventure and woe, giving them purpose, giving them life. Her white fur became a common place in the outlying woods, her tales reaching new heights as her mind began to mature. Stories jumped alive at her touch; the bark of a many trees suddenly molding into a massive, brick wall of an ancient castle. Bushes became tapestries, and saplings became the Pokemon. She lived out her own stories, then, lost completely in a world that was entirely her own.
But, as all things do, she eventually had to stop; to come back to the real world, to become mediocre once more.
With all honesty, however, it just didn't quite add up, this loving, caring family. She loved them dearly, wonderfully, so. But it was... boring. No adventure in their daily lives. While her elder brother of twenty years and her younger of five could disagree, quite content were they with their quiet lives, Evelyn, herself, wished that she could bring her stories home...
So why didn't she?
It didn't take long for her stories to follow right along like obedient dogs. They nipped and danced at her paws, soon melding over the walls of her family home, turning a quiet meal into a banquet fit for a queen. The simple, metal fork in her father's hand became a scepter of power, the braids in her mother's hair a crown of a thousand jewels.
Stories, words, tales; they became her daily norm. Everyday, when she awoke, it would be a new tale, something different to join the day, her mother coming to wake her a demon one morning, and a pauper the next. School, as tiny as it was, became a battle field, where Evelyn danced and played with other maidens like herself amidst the tragedies of war. She would read her own stories to herself at night, falling asleep with the latest installment of her world dancing about in her mind.
Some of those in Lavender thought she was possessed, some thought she was cute. It was a mixed reaction, really, but everywhere was the spirit of adventure seen seeping through her daily life. Her parents, loving as they were, supported her, though they found the placing of fantasy over the omnipresent threat of reality not the best of situations. Her talent was encouraged, indeed, but it was also focused. Word smiths they were not, not like their daughter, but the laws of language they knew well. They taught her to write her stories down, to write books, encouraging to keep the worlds of new inside pages of a book, rather then clouding over her eyes.
Eager, and entirely entranced by this new form of storytelling, Evelyn took it up without difficulties. Quiet by nature, she had always preferred to sit back and watch while the other children played. This new discovery fit right along with it, allowing her to put tales to their games. She still, of course, joined in, loving a good playtime romp as any of them, but her forte wasn't quite with those who actually existed. Tales were told, lives lived out, and Evelyn became the story-keeper.
Years passed, and Evelyn matured. The young Vulpix evolved into a magnificent Ninetales of snowy white, beautiful by all standards, but modest and kind. Her world, as charmed as it was, just wasn't quite what she wanted. Something was missing, though she couldn't quite place her finger on it.
There was really only one course of action to be taken, as far as she was concerned.
Packing up what few earthly belongings she had, the newly evolved young woman bid farewell to her family, and struck out a course to the wild world of Kanto. Her paws trekked along the many routes, avoiding, when she could, the hustle and bustle of the cities, taking the natural route of the land, wandering amidst the world she knew so well. The new forests and landscapes brought about new tales, her mind beginning to swirl with adventures she had never even considered.
It was wonderful, really, but, still, that nagging something persisted in her mind. This wasn't what she was meant for.
A little defeated, her wanderings meandered back on themselves, taking the white Ninetales back from whence she came. Perhaps this whole endeavor was merely a mistake.
Her meandering paws, though direct they had been originally, diverted her on a course that she had never taken before, heading south just before Lavender was near enough to glimpse, instead placing her gentle paws into the brilliant lights of Saffron.
The city was overwhelming, frightening. Her first instinct, of course, was to flee back to her quiet, lonely world in which she knew she was safe. But, that something, it felt satisfied, at least, for now, here. Renting out an apartment in the quietest part of town she could find, Evelyn, then, began searching for a way to support herself. Out in the wilds, money was obsolete, her knowledge of the forest able to keep her alive indefinitely. But, here, with all the other Pokemon and humans wandering about, she needed an income of sorts to be able to keep afloat.
It took several odd jobs about the city, and several weeks, before she finally managed to get a job in which she was actually proficient.
It started out slow, rather pathetic to be honest, but her newest life was in that of journalism. While her creative license was tampered by their need to report only what was necessary, her ability to write was still put into play. It was good enough, at least, for now, and she was able to keep her tiny little apartment on the checks that they sent her. She wrote from inside the building, staring out to the city beyond, fearful of the lights and sounds, not familiar, at all, with the machinery of man that took constant root.
But, she was persistent. Though they insisted on her writing only what was necessary, Evelyn couldn't help but add her own little touch, her little flare, to the stories, making mediocre days sound like wonders of great and masterful adventure. A car accident became a horrible tale of life and death, the fate of a single Pokemon held in the hands of firemen that worked, tirelessly, to free him from the clutches of his burning, demonic car. A robbery became the tale of that man's life, how he, indeed, had no other means of supporting himself, selling his soul to the devil in order to feed what remained of his family.
Some liked it, some did not. Evelyn hardly minded. She was getting her name out there, a previously unknown albino Pokemon, telling romanticized stories of the everyday mediocrity. She still felt that nagging sense of something, be it whatever her mind could conceive, but, at least, here she could make a difference.
And it was noticed.
On a routine trip about the land, a Pokemon of no small name himself happened upon a newspaper on which one of Evelyn's articles was written. He was smitten, then, by her ability to weave and pull the words to her whim, entranced by the lives she managed to elaborate. He sought her out, determined that this time he would not fail.
As fate, or luck, would have it, this Pokemon was, in fact, a scout for the magazine, National Pokegraphic. He had been about Kanto, looking for means of supporting his boss and his business, but nothing ever worked out. The writers didn't know what they were doing: they were inexperienced, their words bland upon the pages.
He was taking a leap of faith, but, with what he read, Evelyn would be the cure to this plague.
It was a brief meeting, the two of them introducing themselves and discussing a possible future in front of a local coffee shop. It's said that the Ninetales' cry of enthusiasm was heard by a sleeping Arceus that day, when she happily accepted the offer.
The offer to travel the world.
She was entirely ecstatic, now able to see the planet from an entirely different view, her adventurous spirit soaring, her mind working overtime to compensate all these new tales. Her land-loving butt was plopped onto a private boat, and shipped about the seas, her one and only task being to find the ancient civilizations of the world, and tell the people about them.
Sea sick at the drop of the hat, Evelyn spent most of the voyages beneath deck, doing her best not to vomit.
They traveled about for many months, seeking something, anything, to tell the world of. Their endeavors were wasted, the planet hardly unyielding it's secrets easily.
So, she threw them for a loop. Adding one disastrous oceanic storm into the mix, the crew was wrecked upon a beach of which they were unfamiliar.
Evelyn took up the first call, being at the front of the column as they searched the woods for a way to sustain themselves. Within only a foot inside the unfamiliar world, their group was attacked, captured, and taken. Blindfolded and gagged, they were dragged along the winding paths of the woods.
There, to her absolute surprise, they found an entire civilization, completely and utterly unknown to anyone before. Druids, the people of the Oak, a religious sect of grass Pokemon that upheld the order and tranquility of the land.
Their Arch Druid, a Sceptile entirely consumed by an ancient tree, questioned them, drilled them, and rewarded them. His people were isolated, cut off from the outside world. For thousands of years, he and his successors had watched the world die away, helpless, doing their best to uphold their forests. They were only the Guardians; and the peoples of the world abandoned them. Now their forces were dwindling, their way of life fading away. Only Nine Circles remained about the world.
He wished for his story to be told, the tale of his people recorded before it was too late.
And Evelyn was ready for it.
She spent the majority of four years with the Druids, learning their ways, their customs. She fell in love with their complex system, infatuated by their different beliefs and ways of life. It was like her stories, those worlds she had created for so long, had suddenly sprung up to life before her, taking physical form, becoming entirely real. They danced at night as though they had walked right off a page of her many unfinished books, their words matching a pattern of speech she could only dream of hearing. They were so complex, so different. So perfect.
She was inducted into their order before long, becoming one of them, willing to spread their teachings to a world of which they could no longer understand.
But, all too soon, their time with the Druids came to an end. With pages upon books upon manuscripts upon atlases of information, they departed, converting the many, many tales into a series of stories of which the whole world could read.
The boat that came to take them home, however, diverted Evelyn's attention from her newly discovered life. A chivalrous man was he, with shining red eyes and a charming smile. William, a massive, hunky, Arcanine, was the one to pick them up, his expertise handling a boat quite odd for someone of his type.
Evelyn, now terrified of the open ocean, stuck around the powerful fire-type for the long voyage, talking with him, laughing with him, and falling for him.
It didn't take long. Soon, so very soon after they returned, Evelyn and William were wed. Her parents, intent on keeping their bloodline pure, were disappointed at her choice in a partner, insisting that she should, instead, seek for a Ninetales like herself, someone with whom she could spend her thousand years of life.
Ignoring their council, perhaps, like a fool she did so, Evelyn and William set off to find a place to call home, eventually settling for a quaint little place in the heart of Pewter. There they stayed, where Evelyn, now great with child, could continue to write her books, while William himself took up a position at a local bar.
To the couple twins were born, two healthy little eggs, though small they were. They set about the task, then, of building the nursery for their new family, Evelyn's work being put on hold, wanting to focus entirely on their children, her series put on hold.
But, then, something changed.
Awoken in the dead of night, Evelyn was assaulted by a sudden dread, her pure white coat soaked in a dripping, chilling sweat. Something was so very, very wrong. Out from her bed she slipped, careful to not wake her husband, sliding along the hallway to their completed nursery beyond.
What escaped her lips was the cry of purest agony.
There, in their little beds of soft down and her own fur, her eggs lay shattered, the little bodies of her cubs stillborn.
William was awoken to her scream. He came pounding down the hallway to where she stood, his own maw pulled back into an agonized wail as he saw what had transpired.
Something inside him snapped.
No evidence was left, no trace uncovered. The police, sadly, declared this a case of simple miscarriage, and left it at that.
Evelyn, desperately, tried to return to a normal life, tried to maintain things as they were, but her broken heart wouldn't obey. Things became colder in their house, distant, William himself avoiding the shattered mother. He stayed later and later at his bar, oft times returning home dizzy with spirits. His anger began to boil over easier, his bloody eyes always glaring in Evelyn's direction.
She began to fear for her marriage, fearing that, eventually, things would boil over. She tried to calm William, tried to reason, to talk, but he would have none of it. His drunken rage could not be tamed, an explosive outburst striking her down, his snarling, screaming breath declaring her as the cause for all their heartache, her incompetent body the reason their children were dead. She was the cause of all his misery, lying to him, leading him on. All these blatant lies he spat in her face, his rage completely explosive.
That very night, he packed up his bags, and out of her life he went forever.
Three months later, an official looking letter came in the mail. Evelyn, so very heartbroken, hardly able to keep her home afloat, finally shattered under the weight of it all as she opened the leaflet to find a letter of divorce inside.
Her own body simply could not take it. In a single, massive, explosive outburst, all her emotions ripped from her body in an angry Psyshock attack. Her house was decimated, destroyed, completely obliterated. Fearful, at an entire loss, she fled, fled from the wreckage of her destroyed home. The news of the incident was spread far and wide, the young mother thought to be dead inside the wreckage (there was no other way).
Evelyn didn't correct them, never declared that she was indeed alive. She kept running. Running away from her past life. Running from William.
Exhausted, beaten down, and thoroughly broken, the white Ninetales happened upon the quiet town of Pokette. Seeing the inherit goodness within the very bowels of the village, there she decided to say, setting about the task of creating her new life. Hollowing out an ancient tree, the Ninetales created a home for herself within the bowels of her oldest friend, with absolutely no bells to her name. The guardian was rich in herbs, however, heralding the start of her own shop. Selling the herbs as medicinal remedies, Evelyn began to slowly carve out her own niche in the town, but ever was she looking over her shoulder, fearful that, one day, her past would catch up with her.

HOBBIES: Write, garden, paint, read, basically anything she can do on her own.

JOB: **TOWN** Owner/operator of her own herbalist shop. Located in acre B4, it rests on the bottom most floor of a massive, wider-then-it-is-tall, tree. The tree itself is an elder specimen, a mixture of a hardy Siberian elm and an arching globe willow. Meticulously maintained gardens form a semi-circle all about her tree, complete with winding, cobbled pathways, wind chimes, and reeds that blow a special tune when the wind picks up. During the wintertime, Evelyn will transplant all the herbs she can managed into the greenhouse that rests at the top of her tree; a dome of sorts that is normally covered by the canopy of leaves during all the other seasons. Her main focus is in that of medicinal herbs: poultices to cure infection, salves to heal wounds, teas to soothe a headache, etc. She still writes her books, though those remain on quite the prolonged hold; her writing talents, now, are spent aiding Richter with his own job, editing and critiquing articles of his own that he writes for a local newspaper.

FAVORITE FOOD: Waffles

FAVORITE BERRY: Passho Berry

CATCHPHRASE: “Dear”

ACCESSORIES: Leather threads looping around her ‘sidebangs’. Silver wedding ring. Occasionally wears a red gem necklace. She sometimes puts the dyes of different berries/herbs underneath her eyes to form pseudo tattoos.

- Evelyn can't swim- She's afraid of the open ocean.

- Often she bakes cupcakes or cookies, leaving them out for anyone to take who enters her shop.

- Evelyn is quite the polite Ninetales- she never interrupts anyone, always waiting until a quiet lull in the conversation before speaking (Usually meaning she never gets to talk at all)

- Loyalty is very dear to Evelyn. She takes her time in getting to know someone.

- Though her trust is hard to come by, she's a sucker for gentlemen.

-- Evelyn has five books published at the moment; two have made the Saffron City best seller list

-- Evelyn can't sing competitively- her soft voice is never very loud or intrusive. She does, however, sing lullabies. She can often be heard at night singing softly to herself.

-- Evelyn's shop doesn't have any indoor plumbing or electricity.

--- On a recent trip to visit her Druidic teachers, Evelyn obtained a tattoo on the back of her neck, starting on that little bumpity bump and going in between her shoulders. It's usually hidden by her hair. Looks like two skeleton keys placed ontop of each other and facing the opposite direction.

---- Evelyn is happily married to the Persian, Richter. (Richter belongs to ~1wordinsane ) Evelyn considers this to be the single best thing that has ever happened to her.

---- The ring that once was on her ear is lost. Evelyn tore it off herself, leaving that gap on her left ear.

----- Learning the piano from her husband; she's gotten pretty good at it.

Evelyn's moveset
-Confuse Ray
-Flamethrower
-Will-O-Wisp
-Psyshock

Description

GUESS WHO GOT PHOTOSHOP FOR CHRISTMAS? AND GUESS WHO DECIDED IT WAS LONG OVERDUE TO REDRAW THIS FOX? It's been a long time in coming. Well over a year (ho geez). I figured, what better way to break in the new program then to draw the reason for all these good things and all my friends here on DA. A'course, I'll probably end up redrawing her again when I understand the program better, but YAY REDRAWN EVELYN WITH NOT SO HERMIT CLOTHING.

NAME: Evelyn Hawthorne

NICKNAME: Eve, Mapleleaf, Willow, Evvie

AGE: 28

BIRTHDAY: Dec 18th

GENDER: Female

NATURE: Quiet

POKEMON / HUMAN: Ninetales (Special- pure white)

HOMETOWN: Lavender Town

HISTORY: “We'll just have to make due.”
Those six words were the story of her life, the tale of her adventures. Evelyn, an albino Pokemon in almost every right, was born the second child of three to Ninetales fair. With not much to their family name, her youngest years were spent in a modest home on the outskirts of Lavender. Raised as a lady by her caring, though, at times, a bit strict, parents, she was born atop a legacy of Priests that spanned back quite a few generations. Though, while her father's vocation by choice was indeed his beloved career, something about the dead was dearly unsettling to the pure white Vulpix.
So, she adapted. Her little paws wandered off one particularly sunny afternoon, abandoning the little fenced of yard that was her entire world. Massive, giant wooden shapes came to swallow her up, trees of which she had never seen before. They reached right up to the very heavens, their branches spanning across the sky, seemingly to have been holding it up forever. Crimson eyes wide with wonder, like a sylph she danced and played among the undergrowth, twirling amidst the bushes, dancing with the branches, conversing with the trees. This... This new, wonderful place. It wasn't simply a forest. It was an entire new world; a world with heroes and villains, a place where, honestly, she could do anything she wanted.
It captivated her.
Words became her art, her song. Words upon a page, in her mind, they consumed her. Like a book her memories became, tellings of stories that were not hers, wrapping about her in a wonderful fantasy. She gave names to everything, giving them their own tales of adventure and woe, giving them purpose, giving them life. Her white fur became a common place in the outlying woods, her tales reaching new heights as her mind began to mature. Stories jumped alive at her touch; the bark of a many trees suddenly molding into a massive, brick wall of an ancient castle. Bushes became tapestries, and saplings became the Pokemon. She lived out her own stories, then, lost completely in a world that was entirely her own.
But, as all things do, she eventually had to stop; to come back to the real world, to become mediocre once more.
With all honesty, however, it just didn't quite add up, this loving, caring family. She loved them dearly, wonderfully, so. But it was... boring. No adventure in their daily lives. While her elder brother of twenty years and her younger of five could disagree, quite content were they with their quiet lives, Evelyn, herself, wished that she could bring her stories home...
So why didn't she?
It didn't take long for her stories to follow right along like obedient dogs. They nipped and danced at her paws, soon melding over the walls of her family home, turning a quiet meal into a banquet fit for a queen. The simple, metal fork in her father's hand became a scepter of power, the braids in her mother's hair a crown of a thousand jewels.
Stories, words, tales; they became her daily norm. Everyday, when she awoke, it would be a new tale, something different to join the day, her mother coming to wake her a demon one morning, and a pauper the next. School, as tiny as it was, became a battle field, where Evelyn danced and played with other maidens like herself amidst the tragedies of war. She would read her own stories to herself at night, falling asleep with the latest installment of her world dancing about in her mind.
Some of those in Lavender thought she was possessed, some thought she was cute. It was a mixed reaction, really, but everywhere was the spirit of adventure seen seeping through her daily life. Her parents, loving as they were, supported her, though they found the placing of fantasy over the omnipresent threat of reality not the best of situations. Her talent was encouraged, indeed, but it was also focused. Word smiths they were not, not like their daughter, but the laws of language they knew well. They taught her to write her stories down, to write books, encouraging to keep the worlds of new inside pages of a book, rather then clouding over her eyes.
Eager, and entirely entranced by this new form of storytelling, Evelyn took it up without difficulties. Quiet by nature, she had always preferred to sit back and watch while the other children played. This new discovery fit right along with it, allowing her to put tales to their games. She still, of course, joined in, loving a good playtime romp as any of them, but her forte wasn't quite with those who actually existed. Tales were told, lives lived out, and Evelyn became the story-keeper.
Years passed, and Evelyn matured. The young Vulpix evolved into a magnificent Ninetales of snowy white, beautiful by all standards, but modest and kind. Her world, as charmed as it was, just wasn't quite what she wanted. Something was missing, though she couldn't quite place her finger on it.
There was really only one course of action to be taken, as far as she was concerned.
Packing up what few earthly belongings she had, the newly evolved young woman bid farewell to her family, and struck out a course to the wild world of Kanto. Her paws trekked along the many routes, avoiding, when she could, the hustle and bustle of the cities, taking the natural route of the land, wandering amidst the world she knew so well. The new forests and landscapes brought about new tales, her mind beginning to swirl with adventures she had never even considered.
It was wonderful, really, but, still, that nagging something persisted in her mind. This wasn't what she was meant for.
A little defeated, her wanderings meandered back on themselves, taking the white Ninetales back from whence she came. Perhaps this whole endeavor was merely a mistake.
Her meandering paws, though direct they had been originally, diverted her on a course that she had never taken before, heading south just before Lavender was near enough to glimpse, instead placing her gentle paws into the brilliant lights of Saffron.
The city was overwhelming, frightening. Her first instinct, of course, was to flee back to her quiet, lonely world in which she knew she was safe. But, that something, it felt satisfied, at least, for now, here. Renting out an apartment in the quietest part of town she could find, Evelyn, then, began searching for a way to support herself. Out in the wilds, money was obsolete, her knowledge of the forest able to keep her alive indefinitely. But, here, with all the other Pokemon and humans wandering about, she needed an income of sorts to be able to keep afloat.
It took several odd jobs about the city, and several weeks, before she finally managed to get a job in which she was actually proficient.
It started out slow, rather pathetic to be honest, but her newest life was in that of journalism. While her creative license was tampered by their need to report only what was necessary, her ability to write was still put into play. It was good enough, at least, for now, and she was able to keep her tiny little apartment on the checks that they sent her. She wrote from inside the building, staring out to the city beyond, fearful of the lights and sounds, not familiar, at all, with the machinery of man that took constant root.
But, she was persistent. Though they insisted on her writing only what was necessary, Evelyn couldn't help but add her own little touch, her little flare, to the stories, making mediocre days sound like wonders of great and masterful adventure. A car accident became a horrible tale of life and death, the fate of a single Pokemon held in the hands of firemen that worked, tirelessly, to free him from the clutches of his burning, demonic car. A robbery became the tale of that man's life, how he, indeed, had no other means of supporting himself, selling his soul to the devil in order to feed what remained of his family.
Some liked it, some did not. Evelyn hardly minded. She was getting her name out there, a previously unknown albino Pokemon, telling romanticized stories of the everyday mediocrity. She still felt that nagging sense of something, be it whatever her mind could conceive, but, at least, here she could make a difference.
And it was noticed.
On a routine trip about the land, a Pokemon of no small name himself happened upon a newspaper on which one of Evelyn's articles was written. He was smitten, then, by her ability to weave and pull the words to her whim, entranced by the lives she managed to elaborate. He sought her out, determined that this time he would not fail.
As fate, or luck, would have it, this Pokemon was, in fact, a scout for the magazine, National Pokegraphic. He had been about Kanto, looking for means of supporting his boss and his business, but nothing ever worked out. The writers didn't know what they were doing: they were inexperienced, their words bland upon the pages.
He was taking a leap of faith, but, with what he read, Evelyn would be the cure to this plague.
It was a brief meeting, the two of them introducing themselves and discussing a possible future in front of a local coffee shop. It's said that the Ninetales' cry of enthusiasm was heard by a sleeping Arceus that day, when she happily accepted the offer.
The offer to travel the world.
She was entirely ecstatic, now able to see the planet from an entirely different view, her adventurous spirit soaring, her mind working overtime to compensate all these new tales. Her land-loving butt was plopped onto a private boat, and shipped about the seas, her one and only task being to find the ancient civilizations of the world, and tell the people about them.
Sea sick at the drop of the hat, Evelyn spent most of the voyages beneath deck, doing her best not to vomit.
They traveled about for many months, seeking something, anything, to tell the world of. Their endeavors were wasted, the planet hardly unyielding it's secrets easily.
So, she threw them for a loop. Adding one disastrous oceanic storm into the mix, the crew was wrecked upon a beach of which they were unfamiliar.
Evelyn took up the first call, being at the front of the column as they searched the woods for a way to sustain themselves. Within only a foot inside the unfamiliar world, their group was attacked, captured, and taken. Blindfolded and gagged, they were dragged along the winding paths of the woods.
There, to her absolute surprise, they found an entire civilization, completely and utterly unknown to anyone before. Druids, the people of the Oak, a religious sect of grass Pokemon that upheld the order and tranquility of the land.
Their Arch Druid, a Sceptile entirely consumed by an ancient tree, questioned them, drilled them, and rewarded them. His people were isolated, cut off from the outside world. For thousands of years, he and his successors had watched the world die away, helpless, doing their best to uphold their forests. They were only the Guardians; and the peoples of the world abandoned them. Now their forces were dwindling, their way of life fading away. Only Nine Circles remained about the world.
He wished for his story to be told, the tale of his people recorded before it was too late.
And Evelyn was ready for it.
She spent the majority of four years with the Druids, learning their ways, their customs. She fell in love with their complex system, infatuated by their different beliefs and ways of life. It was like her stories, those worlds she had created for so long, had suddenly sprung up to life before her, taking physical form, becoming entirely real. They danced at night as though they had walked right off a page of her many unfinished books, their words matching a pattern of speech she could only dream of hearing. They were so complex, so different. So perfect.
She was inducted into their order before long, becoming one of them, willing to spread their teachings to a world of which they could no longer understand.
But, all too soon, their time with the Druids came to an end. With pages upon books upon manuscripts upon atlases of information, they departed, converting the many, many tales into a series of stories of which the whole world could read.
The boat that came to take them home, however, diverted Evelyn's attention from her newly discovered life. A chivalrous man was he, with shining red eyes and a charming smile. William, a massive, hunky, Arcanine, was the one to pick them up, his expertise handling a boat quite odd for someone of his type.
Evelyn, now terrified of the open ocean, stuck around the powerful fire-type for the long voyage, talking with him, laughing with him, and falling for him.
It didn't take long. Soon, so very soon after they returned, Evelyn and William were wed. Her parents, intent on keeping their bloodline pure, were disappointed at her choice in a partner, insisting that she should, instead, seek for a Ninetales like herself, someone with whom she could spend her thousand years of life.
Ignoring their council, perhaps, like a fool she did so, Evelyn and William set off to find a place to call home, eventually settling for a quaint little place in the heart of Pewter. There they stayed, where Evelyn, now great with child, could continue to write her books, while William himself took up a position at a local bar.
To the couple twins were born, two healthy little eggs, though small they were. They set about the task, then, of building the nursery for their new family, Evelyn's work being put on hold, wanting to focus entirely on their children, her series put on hold.
But, then, something changed.
Awoken in the dead of night, Evelyn was assaulted by a sudden dread, her pure white coat soaked in a dripping, chilling sweat. Something was so very, very wrong. Out from her bed she slipped, careful to not wake her husband, sliding along the hallway to their completed nursery beyond.
What escaped her lips was the cry of purest agony.
There, in their little beds of soft down and her own fur, her eggs lay shattered, the little bodies of her cubs stillborn.
William was awoken to her scream. He came pounding down the hallway to where she stood, his own maw pulled back into an agonized wail as he saw what had transpired.
Something inside him snapped.
No evidence was left, no trace uncovered. The police, sadly, declared this a case of simple miscarriage, and left it at that.
Evelyn, desperately, tried to return to a normal life, tried to maintain things as they were, but her broken heart wouldn't obey. Things became colder in their house, distant, William himself avoiding the shattered mother. He stayed later and later at his bar, oft times returning home dizzy with spirits. His anger began to boil over easier, his bloody eyes always glaring in Evelyn's direction.
She began to fear for her marriage, fearing that, eventually, things would boil over. She tried to calm William, tried to reason, to talk, but he would have none of it. His drunken rage could not be tamed, an explosive outburst striking her down, his snarling, screaming breath declaring her as the cause for all their heartache, her incompetent body the reason their children were dead. She was the cause of all his misery, lying to him, leading him on. All these blatant lies he spat in her face, his rage completely explosive.
That very night, he packed up his bags, and out of her life he went forever.
Three months later, an official looking letter came in the mail. Evelyn, so very heartbroken, hardly able to keep her home afloat, finally shattered under the weight of it all as she opened the leaflet to find a letter of divorce inside.
Her own body simply could not take it. In a single, massive, explosive outburst, all her emotions ripped from her body in an angry Psyshock attack. Her house was decimated, destroyed, completely obliterated. Fearful, at an entire loss, she fled, fled from the wreckage of her destroyed home. The news of the incident was spread far and wide, the young mother thought to be dead inside the wreckage (there was no other way).
Evelyn didn't correct them, never declared that she was indeed alive. She kept running. Running away from her past life. Running from William.
Exhausted, beaten down, and thoroughly broken, the white Ninetales happened upon the quiet town of Pokette. Seeing the inherit goodness within the very bowels of the village, there she decided to say, setting about the task of creating her new life. Hollowing out an ancient tree, the Ninetales created a home for herself within the bowels of her oldest friend, with absolutely no bells to her name. The guardian was rich in herbs, however, heralding the start of her own shop. Selling the herbs as medicinal remedies, Evelyn began to slowly carve out her own niche in the town, but ever was she looking over her shoulder, fearful that, one day, her past would catch up with her.

HOBBIES: Write, garden, paint, read, basically anything she can do on her own.

JOB: **TOWN** Owner/operator of her own herbalist shop. Located in acre B4, it rests on the bottom most floor of a massive, wider-then-it-is-tall, tree. The tree itself is an elder specimen, a mixture of a hardy Siberian elm and an arching globe willow. Meticulously maintained gardens form a semi-circle all about her tree, complete with winding, cobbled pathways, wind chimes, and reeds that blow a special tune when the wind picks up. During the wintertime, Evelyn will transplant all the herbs she can managed into the greenhouse that rests at the top of her tree; a dome of sorts that is normally covered by the canopy of leaves during all the other seasons. Her main focus is in that of medicinal herbs: poultices to cure infection, salves to heal wounds, teas to soothe a headache, etc. She still writes her books, though those remain on quite the prolonged hold; her writing talents, now, are spent aiding Richter with his own job, editing and critiquing articles of his own that he writes for a local newspaper.

FAVORITE FOOD: Waffles

FAVORITE BERRY: Passho Berry

CATCHPHRASE: “Dear”

ACCESSORIES: Leather threads looping around her ‘sidebangs’. Silver wedding ring. Occasionally wears a red gem necklace. She sometimes puts the dyes of different berries/herbs underneath her eyes to form pseudo tattoos.

- Evelyn can't swim- She's afraid of the open ocean.

- Often she bakes cupcakes or cookies, leaving them out for anyone to take who enters her shop.

- Evelyn is quite the polite Ninetales- she never interrupts anyone, always waiting until a quiet lull in the conversation before speaking (Usually meaning she never gets to talk at all)

- Loyalty is very dear to Evelyn. She takes her time in getting to know someone.

- Though her trust is hard to come by, she's a sucker for gentlemen.

-- Evelyn has five books published at the moment; two have made the Saffron City best seller list

-- Evelyn can't sing competitively- her soft voice is never very loud or intrusive. She does, however, sing lullabies. She can often be heard at night singing softly to herself.

-- Evelyn's shop doesn't have any indoor plumbing or electricity.

--- On a recent trip to visit her Druidic teachers, Evelyn obtained a tattoo on the back of her neck, starting on that little bumpity bump and going in between her shoulders. It's usually hidden by her hair. Looks like two skeleton keys placed ontop of each other and facing the opposite direction.

---- Evelyn is happily married to the Persian, Richter. (Richter belongs to ~1wordinsane ) Evelyn considers this to be the single best thing that has ever happened to her.

---- The ring that once was on her ear is lost. Evelyn tore it off herself, leaving that gap on her left ear.

----- Learning the piano from her husband; she's gotten pretty good at it.

Evelyn's moveset
-Confuse Ray
-Flamethrower
-Will-O-Wisp
-Psyshock