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Description
DUE WARNING. Annabelle's history ended up being quite long

Name: Annabelle

Nickname: Ann, Anna, Bells, Bellbell

Age: 19

Birthday: March 3rd

Gender: Female

Nature: Careful

Species: Shaymin (Land Forme)

Habitat: Meadowlands

History: She was born, one among many, as a child of the flower. Said to be the breath that slips between the petals, Shaymin were heralded as the keepers of their grove, and the bringers of gratitude and good fortune. Into a valley Annabelle was brought into this world, the sancturary surrounded on all sides by protective, icy cliffs. Snow gathered at the tip throughout the entirety of the year, though deep in the valley, far into the meadows, the weather was always pleasant. Herds, flocks, of Shaymin congregated and lived there, growing beautiful gardens of fragrant, magnificent flowers. It was, truly, a garden of Eden.
Two groups of Shaymin dedicated their lives to Eden. The first, and, perhaps, the oldest, was the Land Shaymin. To these, the charge of caring for the grove was given, their eternal existence sworn to maintain and perfect every last flower. The other Shaymin, the Sky formes, were to be the heralds of their species, sent off in periodic bursts to search the skies, the world, for places to plant new gardens.
Annabelle was of the land Shaymin, and, therefore, a keeper of Eden. Every day, from dawn until dusk, out into the fields she would go, over the hills and through the valley, into the meadows of green and pink, to where she would care for, lovingly, each and every flower. To this path she was diligent. Every day, the same thing; the same path, the same flowers. The same morning, the same night. The same air. The same smells. Covering only small distances of flowers each day, she paid particular attention to every petal, careful to ensure that they remained at the brink of perfection. Finicky down to her core, disliking the taste, and feel, of dirt inbetween her fingers, Annabelle took extra care to keep such white fur of hers clean.
With the way they settled the total area of Eden, Annabelle was placed with a group of nine other Land Shaymin. They became a family of sorts, and, to this family, their charge was, only, a sector of the northwestern meadows. Their homes situated upon the forest's floor, doors always facing the meadow, only small rooms were given to allow each Shaymin privacy. Flowers brushing right up to their neighbors plot, they settled in with practiced ease, growing and tending the flowers of which they had been charged. Annabelle was of the slowest, disliking the dirt and sweat that accompanied hard work, tiptoeing where others found it better to crawl. Back and forth, to and fro. Everything had to be perfect. Everything had to be the same.
Only every once in a while would a challenger dare break the monotony. Shamans, Druidic folks, priests and elders, people and Pokemon of a religious and studious nature, would journey to Eden. Into the magnificent grove they would come, seeking enlightenment, answers, thinking that, perhaps, it existed in one of the most beautiful places on earth. These travelers fascinated Annabelle. They carried with them a wisdom, a history. Travelers cloaks, covered in the dirt of a thousand lives. Only tales that the Shaymin themselves brought back were limited, halting records. About only a particular good patch of dirt here, a mountain there. Perhaps a polluted city, or maybe a small town, filled to the brim with gratitude. But, no. These travelers, those not of a Shaymin origin, held such stories and tales of adventure. They wooed Annabelle with their recounting (for, in such a timeless and free place, the Legendaries sought fit to mingle with the mortals), filled her head with romantic tales of lore and glory. One such an elderly man, named Father Marsh, took a particular liking to the younger Shaymin, one who would peek around the edges of his vision as he sat in the flowered groves. He was a frequent pilgrim to Eden, seeking, above all else, a place in which to feel closest to the Gods. But the inhabitants he loved as well. To Annabelle he gave the gift of reading and writing, telling her stories from afar, and giving her books to discover with herself.
It was with these books that Annabelle found her wonderlight struck. Romance novels closest to her heart, up into the night skies she would often stare, long after the other Shaymin and the flowers had gone to bed. Those stars, sitting up there in the black ink... They stared back. In her books, in her stories, the skies sounded so much prettier. So much brighter. They sounded like... They were filled with so much wonder, so many curious things. They weren't.. They couldn't, be the same stars that overlooked the same valley of Eden night after night.
The world was bigger then this. The Sky Shaymin were proof to that.
But, indeed, Annabelle wasn't the bravest little hedgehog in the bush. She couldn't run off on her own. She wouldn't dare. So she waited, watched, and wondered, there in Eden, keeping her fur clean from dirt, and polishing every petal. But ever would her eyes follow as the Sky Shaymin would return with news, then depart not long after. Her gaze would follow them to and from the mountains, mimicking with her glance. She'd stare as the pilgrims made their way down the well worn path, burdened, but lightened as they smelled the promised meadows.
What was it that brought the humans and Pokemon here, but sent the Sky Shaymin away?
It took many years, much planning, several rethinkings, re-psyching, and a few hypothetical situations shot in the way of the other Shaymin, before Annabelle was ready to act. Her petite size, coupled with the fact that a few pilgrims would bring flower carts to Eden to collect the fringes of the Shaymin's harvest, allowed a quick and easy stowaway situation. Sliding in beneath the carts, hiding herself where her own coloring and flowers could protect, carrying with her only a small pack of precious items.
By the time the others had awoken, and noticed her absence, the pilgrim had long since departed.
Out into the world Annabelle was carted, far over the lands and hills, beyond the mountains, through the swamps, and past the rivers. Her intent, as she had overheard this particular pilgrim mention, was to depart the cart at it's first stop: a rather small quaint town with few villagers, and fewer distractions. She thought, perhaps, to start her new life here in the smaller vestiges, before into the grand adventure she'd leap.
The night when the cart stopped for good, when the wheels stopped their turning, locked up, Annabelle took it as her chance to escape. Slipping from beneath the petals that she knew so well, holding that bag of hers so tight. Out from the darkness of the shop she slipped, turning and..
Finding herself facing directly into a light. It wasn't a village. It wasn't a small town. Into the heart of a smog covered city the Shaymin found herself dumped.
Confused, terrified, and growing sicker with every passing moment as every last drop of air pollution pulled itself into her cleansing body, she bolted. Shoving past and around the milling inhabitants, drawing quite a few bemused and amazed looks with every pass, her fur grew darker and darker with every breath. Running, fleeing, mindlessly for hours upon hours, shouts and followers attracted and lost with a many pass, eventually, mercifully, Annabelle found her salvation in the center of it all.
It was in this park she stayed. Constantly sick from the pollution, feeling the weight of an unfamiliar feeling of terrible homesickness, she found herself unable to leave. She was lost, she was alone, and she was scared. Never in her stories was this world ever mentioned. This world of shouting and angry creatures, of greed and deceit. They lied and cheated with one another, hurt and beat eachother. She saw, every night, all manner of unholy things take place in her tiny refuge. Purifying the air inside the park, though at the cost of drawing all the heavy air into herself, left the faux scenery with a strange amount of brilliant flowers and greenery. The city was credited, but a weakening Shaymin, hiding forever inside the foliage, was to blame. Annabelle looked, and read, day in and day out, for any hint to where she was. To any hint to what had happened. And to any hint to where Eden was. She even managed, after much inner peptalking and watching, to question the regular, kinder, visitors to the park.
But, even with this new wealth of information, all Annabelle received was, she was in a city she had never heard of before, and Eden didn't exist.
Annabelle lost track of the years she spent in that city. Always lethargic, she would wander about in the twilit hours, slipping from building to building when almost all of the inhabitants of the great city were asleep. Borrowing food, reading her single book beneath the flickering light of a lamp post. Avoiding the dark corners and Pokemon, where greedy eyes would follow her every move.
That pilgrim she never heard from again, many words from her sources telling that he never existed. There was no flower shop around the corner, and no Gracedia flowers were ever brought in again.
But Annabelle couldn't lose the last of her hope. She knew Eden existed; the problem was finding it. The Sky Shaymin knew the way; if she couldn't find that pilgrim again, then she would search for one of her own.
Quite a while later, the Shaymin found herself headed out into the wilderness, hiding in the tree of a rather supportive Torterra. The vastness of the world she sought to search, looking for any of the places the Sky Shaymin would, perhaps, had visited. An open meadow here, a slightly gratitude filled village there. But, for all her searching, all her wandering, all her questioning, Annabelle never found them. She never found a Sky Shaymin from Eden, nor ever was she able to find her way back home.
Tired, so very tired, disheartened and lost, it was with a stroke of spiritual fate that brought the Shaymin to the Border.

Summary characteristic: Very finicky

Hobbies: Reading romantic novels; flower care and arranging; weaving (flower crowns, flower bracelets, etc); frolicking and general merrymaking; dancing.

Moveset:
Sweet Kiss
Seed Flare
Healing Wish
Aromatherapy

Extras/Fun Facts:
She absolutely cannot stand being dirty. Any dirt that gets on her fur/clothes must be washed off immediately.
Annabelle can't stand pain either.
She dreams of a wonderful friendship and romance, like those in her books.
She has a slight OCD. Annabelle will tend to straighten things that are crooked, and organize colored pencils into rainbow order.
Annabelle will sometimes sit alone in fields of flowers and make little flower crowns for herself.
Annabelle absolutely refuses to watch horror movies.

Description
DUE WARNING. Annabelle's history ended up being quite long

Name: Annabelle

Nickname: Ann, Anna, Bells, Bellbell

Age: 19

Birthday: March 3rd

Gender: Female

Nature: Careful

Species: Shaymin (Land Forme)

Habitat: Meadowlands

History: She was born, one among many, as a child of the flower. Said to be the breath that slips between the petals, Shaymin were heralded as the keepers of their grove, and the bringers of gratitude and good fortune. Into a valley Annabelle was brought into this world, the sancturary surrounded on all sides by protective, icy cliffs. Snow gathered at the tip throughout the entirety of the year, though deep in the valley, far into the meadows, the weather was always pleasant. Herds, flocks, of Shaymin congregated and lived there, growing beautiful gardens of fragrant, magnificent flowers. It was, truly, a garden of Eden.
Two groups of Shaymin dedicated their lives to Eden. The first, and, perhaps, the oldest, was the Land Shaymin. To these, the charge of caring for the grove was given, their eternal existence sworn to maintain and perfect every last flower. The other Shaymin, the Sky formes, were to be the heralds of their species, sent off in periodic bursts to search the skies, the world, for places to plant new gardens.
Annabelle was of the land Shaymin, and, therefore, a keeper of Eden. Every day, from dawn until dusk, out into the fields she would go, over the hills and through the valley, into the meadows of green and pink, to where she would care for, lovingly, each and every flower. To this path she was diligent. Every day, the same thing; the same path, the same flowers. The same morning, the same night. The same air. The same smells. Covering only small distances of flowers each day, she paid particular attention to every petal, careful to ensure that they remained at the brink of perfection. Finicky down to her core, disliking the taste, and feel, of dirt inbetween her fingers, Annabelle took extra care to keep such white fur of hers clean.
With the way they settled the total area of Eden, Annabelle was placed with a group of nine other Land Shaymin. They became a family of sorts, and, to this family, their charge was, only, a sector of the northwestern meadows. Their homes situated upon the forest's floor, doors always facing the meadow, only small rooms were given to allow each Shaymin privacy. Flowers brushing right up to their neighbors plot, they settled in with practiced ease, growing and tending the flowers of which they had been charged. Annabelle was of the slowest, disliking the dirt and sweat that accompanied hard work, tiptoeing where others found it better to crawl. Back and forth, to and fro. Everything had to be perfect. Everything had to be the same.
Only every once in a while would a challenger dare break the monotony. Shamans, Druidic folks, priests and elders, people and Pokemon of a religious and studious nature, would journey to Eden. Into the magnificent grove they would come, seeking enlightenment, answers, thinking that, perhaps, it existed in one of the most beautiful places on earth. These travelers fascinated Annabelle. They carried with them a wisdom, a history. Travelers cloaks, covered in the dirt of a thousand lives. Only tales that the Shaymin themselves brought back were limited, halting records. About only a particular good patch of dirt here, a mountain there. Perhaps a polluted city, or maybe a small town, filled to the brim with gratitude. But, no. These travelers, those not of a Shaymin origin, held such stories and tales of adventure. They wooed Annabelle with their recounting (for, in such a timeless and free place, the Legendaries sought fit to mingle with the mortals), filled her head with romantic tales of lore and glory. One such an elderly man, named Father Marsh, took a particular liking to the younger Shaymin, one who would peek around the edges of his vision as he sat in the flowered groves. He was a frequent pilgrim to Eden, seeking, above all else, a place in which to feel closest to the Gods. But the inhabitants he loved as well. To Annabelle he gave the gift of reading and writing, telling her stories from afar, and giving her books to discover with herself.
It was with these books that Annabelle found her wonderlight struck. Romance novels closest to her heart, up into the night skies she would often stare, long after the other Shaymin and the flowers had gone to bed. Those stars, sitting up there in the black ink... They stared back. In her books, in her stories, the skies sounded so much prettier. So much brighter. They sounded like... They were filled with so much wonder, so many curious things. They weren't.. They couldn't, be the same stars that overlooked the same valley of Eden night after night.
The world was bigger then this. The Sky Shaymin were proof to that.
But, indeed, Annabelle wasn't the bravest little hedgehog in the bush. She couldn't run off on her own. She wouldn't dare. So she waited, watched, and wondered, there in Eden, keeping her fur clean from dirt, and polishing every petal. But ever would her eyes follow as the Sky Shaymin would return with news, then depart not long after. Her gaze would follow them to and from the mountains, mimicking with her glance. She'd stare as the pilgrims made their way down the well worn path, burdened, but lightened as they smelled the promised meadows.
What was it that brought the humans and Pokemon here, but sent the Sky Shaymin away?
It took many years, much planning, several rethinkings, re-psyching, and a few hypothetical situations shot in the way of the other Shaymin, before Annabelle was ready to act. Her petite size, coupled with the fact that a few pilgrims would bring flower carts to Eden to collect the fringes of the Shaymin's harvest, allowed a quick and easy stowaway situation. Sliding in beneath the carts, hiding herself where her own coloring and flowers could protect, carrying with her only a small pack of precious items.
By the time the others had awoken, and noticed her absence, the pilgrim had long since departed.
Out into the world Annabelle was carted, far over the lands and hills, beyond the mountains, through the swamps, and past the rivers. Her intent, as she had overheard this particular pilgrim mention, was to depart the cart at it's first stop: a rather small quaint town with few villagers, and fewer distractions. She thought, perhaps, to start her new life here in the smaller vestiges, before into the grand adventure she'd leap.
The night when the cart stopped for good, when the wheels stopped their turning, locked up, Annabelle took it as her chance to escape. Slipping from beneath the petals that she knew so well, holding that bag of hers so tight. Out from the darkness of the shop she slipped, turning and..
Finding herself facing directly into a light. It wasn't a village. It wasn't a small town. Into the heart of a smog covered city the Shaymin found herself dumped.
Confused, terrified, and growing sicker with every passing moment as every last drop of air pollution pulled itself into her cleansing body, she bolted. Shoving past and around the milling inhabitants, drawing quite a few bemused and amazed looks with every pass, her fur grew darker and darker with every breath. Running, fleeing, mindlessly for hours upon hours, shouts and followers attracted and lost with a many pass, eventually, mercifully, Annabelle found her salvation in the center of it all.
It was in this park she stayed. Constantly sick from the pollution, feeling the weight of an unfamiliar feeling of terrible homesickness, she found herself unable to leave. She was lost, she was alone, and she was scared. Never in her stories was this world ever mentioned. This world of shouting and angry creatures, of greed and deceit. They lied and cheated with one another, hurt and beat eachother. She saw, every night, all manner of unholy things take place in her tiny refuge. Purifying the air inside the park, though at the cost of drawing all the heavy air into herself, left the faux scenery with a strange amount of brilliant flowers and greenery. The city was credited, but a weakening Shaymin, hiding forever inside the foliage, was to blame. Annabelle looked, and read, day in and day out, for any hint to where she was. To any hint to what had happened. And to any hint to where Eden was. She even managed, after much inner peptalking and watching, to question the regular, kinder, visitors to the park.
But, even with this new wealth of information, all Annabelle received was, she was in a city she had never heard of before, and Eden didn't exist.
Annabelle lost track of the years she spent in that city. Always lethargic, she would wander about in the twilit hours, slipping from building to building when almost all of the inhabitants of the great city were asleep. Borrowing food, reading her single book beneath the flickering light of a lamp post. Avoiding the dark corners and Pokemon, where greedy eyes would follow her every move.
That pilgrim she never heard from again, many words from her sources telling that he never existed. There was no flower shop around the corner, and no Gracedia flowers were ever brought in again.
But Annabelle couldn't lose the last of her hope. She knew Eden existed; the problem was finding it. The Sky Shaymin knew the way; if she couldn't find that pilgrim again, then she would search for one of her own.
Quite a while later, the Shaymin found herself headed out into the wilderness, hiding in the tree of a rather supportive Torterra. The vastness of the world she sought to search, looking for any of the places the Sky Shaymin would, perhaps, had visited. An open meadow here, a slightly gratitude filled village there. But, for all her searching, all her wandering, all her questioning, Annabelle never found them. She never found a Sky Shaymin from Eden, nor ever was she able to find her way back home.
Tired, so very tired, disheartened and lost, it was with a stroke of spiritual fate that brought the Shaymin to the Border.

Summary characteristic: Very finicky

Hobbies: Reading romantic novels; flower care and arranging; weaving (flower crowns, flower bracelets, etc); frolicking and general merrymaking; dancing.

Moveset:
Sweet Kiss
Seed Flare
Healing Wish
Aromatherapy

Extras/Fun Facts:
She absolutely cannot stand being dirty. Any dirt that gets on her fur/clothes must be washed off immediately.
Annabelle can't stand pain either.
She dreams of a wonderful friendship and romance, like those in her books.
She has a slight OCD. Annabelle will tend to straighten things that are crooked, and organize colored pencils into rainbow order.
Annabelle will sometimes sit alone in fields of flowers and make little flower crowns for herself.
Annabelle absolutely refuses to watch horror movies.