Rattata

He loves sleeping in his wooden crib (the same one his trainer used when he was a baby) because it smells of security and warm milk. When he's fast asleep, like now, he allows himself to do something he never does when he's awake: he purrs. It's a very soft noise, almost like a sigh, that you can only hear if you get very close. And if his trainer gently runs his hand down his back, the Rattata stretches a little, opens one bright purple eye for half a second… and decides that, for today, it's okay to keep sleeping peacefully.
It's a Pokémon that's still afraid of almost everything, but each day it chooses to be a little braver. And as it sleeps curled up in its cradle, with the sun bathing its lilac fur, it seems that it's finally beginning to believe that it doesn't have to run away anymore.

As for his personality… this Rattata is a bundle of nerves when he's awake. He was found trembling inside a cardboard box in an alley, so at first he was terrified of everything: hands approaching too quickly, loud noises, even the sound of the Poké Ball opening. For the first few days, he hid under the sofa and only came out at night to eat the kibble his trainer left for him on a small plate.
But little by little, he's discovering that the world isn't so hostile anymore. Now, when his trainer sits on the floor and speaks softly, the little Rattata crawls over, sniffs warily, and, if he's feeling brave, rests his head on the human knee for exactly three seconds before scurrying off again. Those three seconds are his confidence record.

This little Rattata is a violet ball of pure tenderness, barely the size of a baby rabbit. Its fur is a soft, velvety lilac, with a very light cream belly and the inside of its ears that seem to shimmer in the sunlight streaming through the window. Its ears, enormous in proportion to its head, are completely relaxed and droop to the sides, revealing the pale pink inside. It has long, thin whiskers, now still, and its rodent teeth (two very white front teeth) peek out from between its slightly parted lips as it sleeps, giving it the look of a baby who hasn't quite mastered its own mouth yet.
His tail, long and coiled like a spring, ends in a graceful spiral that rests on his back; every now and then it flicks a little in his sleep, as if chasing some imaginary crumb. His front paws are crossed over his chest, hugging himself, and the pink pads of his toes look plump and soft. On one of his hind paws, he still bears a small mark from when he lived on the streets: an almost invisible scar that his trainer carefully treated on their first night.