catherine lewis

NAME — Catherine "Cat" Lewis
AGE — 18
GENDER — Female
SEXUALITY — Heterosexual
TRAINER CLASSES — Ace Trainer | Brutalist | Type Expert [Ghost]
Given her inexperience with pokemon, it will take practice before she can really take advantage of these classes.
AFFILIATION — Unaffiliated
OCCUPATION — Former artistic gymnast, now a trainer


HEIGHT — 5'0"
WEIGHT — 98 lbs
HAIR COLOR — Light brown
EYE COLOR — Brown
SKIN COLOR — Pale or sunburned, there is no middle ground
ABNORMALITIES —

• Pierced ears
• Right elbow extends a few degrees farther than normal from an old fracture, and is prone to hyperextension and fractures
• Right ankle can be inverted more than normal thanks to repeated twists and a fracture, also prone to reinjury
• Scars on either side of her left knee from two ACL surgeries

reference (petra ral, attack on titan)

Cat was a gymnast for fifteen years and her body was built for the sport. Long limbs and high centers of gravity make balancing and tumbling difficult, and Cat doesn't have either. She has short legs, even for someone her size, and a petite frame. It was a tremendous advantage back in her competitive days.

Her body was also molded by the sport. Countless hours in a gym means low body fat and lots of muscle are the norm for her. It was always about function rather than form; she doesn't give a single solitary fuck if you find muscular women attractive or not, because aesthetics weren't ever the point. She's not in the gymnastics world anymore but she's still in decent shape. The intense musculature of a gymnast is slowly giving way to more of an, "I can probably outrun you," sort of physique, but Cat still carries herself like the professional athlete she almost was.

Squeezing long hair into a bun on a regular basis was more hassle than it was worth so keeping her hair short is a habit now. She veers towards athleisure and comfortable clothing on ordinary days, and reserves dressing up for special occasions. "Special occasions" have always meant trials and competitions, not dates or parties or graduations. She and her teammates went all out for them: expensive leos, faces full of makeup, glitter in their hair, the whole shebang. The same will likely be true now that she's in the pokemon world.

Hopefully she'll invest in some... regular-people fancy clothes, instead of waltzing up to a gym leader in a leotard. But, y'know, time will tell.


Cat had one coach from the time she was toddling around the gymnasium until the bitter end of her career. He had little sayings he repeated ad nauseam and the one that stuck with Cat the most was his perspective on competition days. He told all his gymnasts to never, ever look at the scoreboard. Don't look at the apparatuses unless a teammate is on one of them (in which case, you better be on your feet, cheering like mad). Don't listen to the crowd cheering or booing for your competitors and don't listen to the crowd when you're up, either. Tune all of that out. Don't focus on who the judges are, or what they like, or what they look for.

All of it, he said, came down to one thing: your mental energy is precious, and it should only be spent focusing on things in your control. You can't control how nitpicky the judges are or how clean your competitor's routines are, but you can control how focused you are. You can control how precise your movements are and how prepared you are. So focus on that.

Cat isn't a gymnast anymore but the mentality of only focusing on things you can change will undoubtedly follow her to her (attempt at a) pokemon training career. Though she may not be fussing over everything her competitors are doing at any given moment, she's still an intensely competitive person. She'll get up at four in the morning every day for months - for years, really - and work out for eight or more hours before switching to home schooling, where she'll keep her grades up so she doesn't get an academic disqualification, all for a chance at winning. She wants to be the best and she will work her tail off for it; from the time she was three years old, it's all she's ever really done.

That single-minded focus has its drawbacks. She always did well enough in school but never took much away from it; that would've taken valuable time, which was better spent on gymnastics. She also never had a chance to get into games or books or TV or anything. Any sort of reference, from pop culture to politics, is likely to soar right over her head. Gymnastics is also not a terribly cheap sport and it's led to a bit of a sheltered outlook on life. Her parents weren't wealthy by any means but poverty is a big ol' question mark to her. The idea that there are things people can't afford, as opposed to things people just don't feel like buying, is a foreign concept to her. (She thinks she understands budgets because she saved up for a passport and plane ticket and other miscellaneous small- to medium-ticket items before beginning her journey. But she was also living with her parents at the time, so take that with a grain of salt. She'll learn soon enough, though, once she's an unknown trainer living in a foreign region.)

Growing up around athletes and coaches stunted her social development a bit, as well. She doesn't really know how to interact with people unless they share her passion. She's quite jealous of people who can carry on conversations with ease because she's never been able to. She's always been a better performer than a public speaker. She did a few TV interviews as a gymnast and those were fine because she knew the questions they were asking in advance. But out in the real world... What are you even supposed to talk about with strangers? She has no idea. The best shot at getting her out of her shell is by goading her into a competition. After all, that's what got her to Stellara in the first place. She may not be an aspiring pro athlete anymore but who doesn't love a chance to win?

In other words, she's very likely to be pulled into the competitive world of pokemon battling very quickly. Setbacks (mostly smaller injuries) and losses never bothered her as a gymnast because her parents and coaches and teammates always told her she could come back and be better than before. They were always right, too. Failing and coming back stronger from setbacks were all she knew. But then she faced the setback and learned a new way to go about life: by not going about life. She stagnated for the two years she was in high school, letting herself coast by with as little friction as possible. There is no middle ground with her. She's all in, or she's nothing.

She's never faced anything in life at a reasonable pace; her trip to Stellara was just another example of her charging in headfirst without stopping to think anything over. She's still got the drive to succeed and fight and win, but the resiliency to power through problems is just not there. Without her parents and coaches there to hold her hand, she's likely to stumble and fall over the simplest of obstacles. It doesn't help that she's only ever been the athlete. A lifetime of being the one giving up her blood, sweat and tears as the competitor has led her to believe taking on a "coaching" role will be easy.


Catherine Lewis was born in Verdanturf Town, Hoenn. From the time she could crawl, she only had two modes: sleeping and moving. Whether she was waddling or walking or running, she was never one for staying still. A set of twins (Alexander and Andrew) came along when she was three, and the added distraction of twins gave her new chances to escape parental supervision just long enough to do something incredibly stupid - flipping off the back of the couch, doing handstands on the highest part of the jungle gym, attempting hands-free cartwheels over parking lots, and on and on it went. If it could give a parent a heart attack, she did it on a regular basis. Any reprimand went in one ear and out the other.

When the boys were six months old, Mrs. Lewis saw an ad for a Tumbling Tots program. She enrolled her nutty little firstborn without a second thought. Catherine started gymnastics the next day and she never looked back. Cat loved gymnastics with the same intensity that her younger brothers (and most kids her age) loved pokemon. She powered through the shin splints and callouses and rolled ankles for the chance to feel absolutely free and absolutely in control all at once. And she was good at it. She didn't know which came first - the talent or the desire. Cat was never a big fan of philosophical, torchic-or-the-egg dilemmas. The academics of the world could fuss with all that. She just wanted to learn, to compete, and to win.

Her parents took her out of public school when she was ten. Homeschooling offered a more flexible schedule and her weekly twenty five hours in the gym evolved into forty hours plus conditioning. Outside of the Chanseys who helped her with her injuries, she rarely interacted with pokemon. Pokemon were sort of like modern plumbing or public transportation as far as Cat was concerned; the world was certainly a better place for having them, but she wasn't interested in learning about them or working with them.

She won a spot on Mauville City's Elite Team and she began competing in events around Hoenn shortly afterwards. She won her first real gold medal (as in, at a competition that wasn't just against people from the Mauville area) in Lilycove City a month later. Her first three elite-level medals were all from the uneven bars; slowly but surely, medals from the other events began to trickle in. Her progress stalled at fifteen when a bad vault left her with a torn ACL. It was her first major injury and it kept her sidelined for months. Physical therapy wasn't fun but she followed the therapist's plans to a tee. She knew she'd make a comeback in a way she'd never known anything. And she was right. She got competition-ready in time for Hoenn's annual region-wide competition as a sixteen year old, where she qualified for the Hoenn National Team.

The Hoenn National Team was the end-all be-all of gymnastics in Hoenn. The girls on that team were the ones who traveled to international events. They were the ones who competed against gymnastics from regions all around the world. They were the ones who wore Hoenn colors, who had custom leos decorated with Rayquaza's trademark yellow rings. And for a few short months, Cat was one of them. And she was phenomenal. She peaked just in time to really rake in the medals at those international events. She won the coveted all-around gold in Lumiose, and was the one to beat when they arrived in Castelia a month later. Two days before the competition started, she misjudged the dismount from beam. Her ACL gave out once again.

The doctors said the injury would keep happening if she kept stressing it. They said she was favoring that leg and the other was weaker because of it. They said her ankles and wrists were in bad shape from injuries that hadn't healed properly; they were in danger, too. And the doctors kept talking and her parents kept listening. When the doctors left, her parents were adamant. No more gymnastics.

Injuries stopped gymnastics careers all the time, that wasn't a secret. She'd seen it happen to dozens of teammates over the years. She'd never pictured it happening it to herself. She watched her old teammates compete from a hospital room in Mauville while her parents filled out paperwork for her to attend public school.

As it turns out, entering high school midway through junior year as a depressed, aimless, ex-homeschooler in a leg brace was not a great way to make friends. And Cat was almost as bad at academics as she was at being social. She wasn't dumb (she'd always done well enough at the whole homeschooling thing), she just didn't care. She flew under the radar, keeping her hand down in every class while rarely getting a grade higher or lower than a C. Everyone at school, her younger brothers included, talked about their plans for the future. And everyone's plan was either college or pokemon. (Sometimes both, like the kid in her chemistry class who wanted to go to college to be a pokemon researcher.) Cat, it seemed, was the only one her age without a goal.

She ended up spending lunchtimes with her brothers and their friends. Was it weird for an older sibling to tag along with the younger ones? Probably, but she didn't care and if anyone else did, they didn't mention it. She stayed quiet while they all talked about their inevitable upcoming journeys, all the rare pokemon they'd catch just because they could (Kecleon, Whiscash, and all sorts that Cat knew nothing about) all the powerful pokemon they'd raise, all the gym badges they'd collect. Her brothers in particular were keen on beginning in Hoenn and then transitioning to other regions. They didn't want a lousy eight-badge collection. They wanted dozens, Andrew and Alex both. They wanted to race. They wanted to compete.

That desire for competition had all but vanished for Cat, and it certainly didn't exist for pokemon. But gradually, she began contributing to the lunchtime conversations about pokemon. Why do you like this type? and why not use this pokemon instead of that one? and what would you do if your opponent did this other tactic? and other basic questions were really all she ever asked. Her brothers saw her getting involved, though, and an idea took shape. At graduation, her parents and her brothers presented her with the standard graduation gift: a little red and white pokeball that had Congratulations! inscribed on the red half and her graduation year on the white.

It was a Drifloon, her brothers explained, because a balloon shaped pokemon seemed perfect for a graduation. And it was an imported pokemon so, by definition, it would make all the other Mauville West High graduates squirm with jealousy. But they were adamant about one thing: Drifloon was not a fighter. "We know you aren't built for all that," Alex'd said. "She's just a companion for ya, so you don't miss having lunch with us."

Their sneaky little plan worked. Hearing someone doubt her lit that old competitive flame. But first, she had some learning to do. So after graduation, she stuck around Verdanturf for a few months, hanging out with her Drifloon, whom she'd named Lily. She got a job at a little retail store and worked overtime whenever they let her. She'd never worked that hard in school - she hadn't felt like she was working towards anything. But now was different. Now she had a plan. She was going to prove that she was built for "all that" training stuff. As soon as she could afford it, she applied for a passport. (Her parents would have helped her financially if she'd asked, Cat knew they would. But they'd already spent her whole childhood funding her first plan. Now that she was on plan number two, she wanted to do it on her own.)

Cat and Lily didn't talk much but they spent almost every one of Cat's waking moments together. If Cat was on a jog, Lily wrapped her tendril-y arms loosely around one of Cat's arms and went along for the ride. If Cat was reading a book, Lily was in her lap, looking at the page right along with her. The ghost hadn't actually learned how to read, but that didn't bother either of them. They only time they were apart was when Cat was at work. Neither had any firsthand experience with battles but Lily did teach Cat about what breeding ranches were like. If they were both feeling brave, Lily practiced her moves by using them on Cat. (It was helpful for both of them. Like Cat's old coaches said, you couldn't coach effectively if you didn't know what it was like to be down in the trenches. Surely that applied to trainers, too, right?)

On days when they weren't feeling quite so daring, they stayed up to watch professional battles and tournaments online. (They never stayed up past 11, though. Lily was adamant that Catherine stay on a regular sleep schedule. Humans were fragile, she said, and they needed routine.) It took a few months for Cat's passport to arrive and by the time it did, she had enough saved up for everything else: some basic outdoors-y supplies, standard trainer gear, and a plane ticket. She'd considered just starting right away in Hoenn instead of traveling but honestly, she'd already done Hoenn as a gymnast. She wanted a new challenge. So she said goodbye to her family and boarded a plane to Stellara.


NAME — Lily
LEVEL — 5
SPECIES — Drifloon
TYPE — Ghost/Flying
EGG GROUP — Amorphous
ABILITY — Unburden
HELD ITEM — N/A
GENDER — Female
HEIGHT — 1'06"
WEIGHT — 2.6 lbs
MOVE LIST — Tailwind (egg), Constrict, Minimize, Astonish
PERSONALITY — Lily was born on a ranch in Sinnoh. She was the eldest sibling to three dozen brothers and sisters and found herself in a nurturing role at a young age. She worries about the health and happiness of those around her - so much so that she often forgets to take care of herself, too. She has a special level of concern for bony creatures (humans and non-ghost types alike) because they all seem to be so terribly fragile. The stories she's heard about gymnastics-induced injuries make her stomach churn and she's especially prone to fussing over Cat because of it. She doesn't care so much that Cat's technically her trainer or whatever; Lily's compassion doesn't discriminate. She's just determined to not let anything like that happen to the thoroughly breakable human again.

She's never been a terribly competitive or athletic pokemon but she has taken it upon herself to join Cat on her morning runs. (What if Cat fell over on those spindly little legs, or got hit by a car, or something else went wrong and no one was around to help? Lily would never forgive herself.) Though she started tagging along for Cat's sake, she actually rather enjoys moving at a brisk pace. Exercise is one of the few things she's found that calms her anxiety-riddled brain. Lily is still quite young and, until arriving in Stellara, had never been in a single battle. She's not opposed to it, per se, but she's got quite a strong moral compass. She will only fight pokemon who want to. Going after an unsuspecting target, or someone who was only fighting because a human wanted them to, wouldn't sit right with her.

PLAYED BY CLOVER