Pokémon: Forever Wounded

Adjusting

Aurora Sycamore wished that Prina would leave her alone. The comments about her height, her weight, her hips, the fact that her chest was flat until less than two years ago, the fact that- well you get the point, don't you? Rory was just tired of feigning everything. She wondered if anyone would be nice to her if she presented herself as anything but the crazy gremlin act she put on. She wondered if- she wanted to scream but her words no longer gave way. She hit the floor in anger, tired of waking up like this. She'd just laughed at Florian. Why was she so, so stupid? Rory was masking more than Ogerpon on a good day. What time was it now? She didn't want to know how much of the day she had wasted. She got herself up.

 Where was Snow? Where was Tomāh-Tō? She wanted her sister, she wanted her best friend. Just being in their company was enough, she didn't even have to speak, in fact she preferred not to in situations like these. She crawled into the vents as she sometimes did, because she was small enough. She trudged through them until she was above the clubroom, and fell down. She walked over to where Snow was, and just sat there, in Snow's company. Snow nodded, and patted her on the head a bit. Aurora didn't say anything, or do anything. She just stared on. What did she even want? She looked at a photo of a grey eyed, middle aged man in her hand. Black hair, white coat, blue shirt. Sure wish you were here right now.

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Kieran practically collapsed into his childhood room once he had arrived. That was a long, long plane journey, and he was happy to be home. The painkillers he'd been given for his stab wound were starting to wear off, but he hadn't even needed a sleeping pill to just collapse in his bed. He hadn't even greeted Zari, he'd gone straight upstairs to his room and crashed on the bed. He was semi-conscious throughout that walk, and he didn't care that he wasn't in his pyjamas, he was that tired. Fuzz the Furrett, part of Kieran's Kitakami team he left behind to help around the house, guarded his room as fiercely as a Furret could, which wasn't very much. 

Drayton, Lacey, Crispin, and Florian stayed at the Community Centre, while Paul slept on the couch, at Carmine's insistence. Paul was also tired, and had crashed straight onto the couch, leaving only Carmine and Zari awake in the house. Carmine sat at the table with her brother.

"How's it been, Zari?" Carmine said in a neutral tone. She always sounded slightly angry in her neutral tone, as if anger was her natural feeling. Zari responded with a neutral face, hands running through his red and purple hair. He took off his maskmaker's apron, and stretched. 

"Making masks, or-" Zari glanced to see if Paul was listening. Zari had a similar view of Paul to Carmine, if less extreme. He accepted that Paul and Kieran were close friends, and he accepted that Kieran would see Paul as an older brother figure, a stepbrother of sorts. Zari, however, didn't have to like that. Zari understood that Paul probably wasn't trying to replace him, but that didn't mean that Zari didn't get a bit uncomfy whenever Kieran introduced Paul as his stepbrother. Zari glanced at the sleeping Paul, and fumbled with his hands, before looking back at Carmine.

"When exactly did we take him in?" he asked, in a tone without malice.

Carmine closed her eyes, trying to remember, "it was before our parents died, I think. I don't remember much, I think they just found him someplace, and our parents took it upon them to just... unofficially adopt him." 

Zari nodded, "huh. Yeah, oldest memory I have of him is you three heading off to Blueberry."

"That's not even that long ago. That was, what..." Carmine did the maths in her head, counting on her fingers, "2023, it was. He was 14, he's 17 now, it's only been three years. Less than three years. Two and a bit. He's a November boy."

"Yeah but-" Zari shrugged.

Zari was the middle child between Kieran and Carmine. Not by long. Carmine was born in February of 2005. Zari was born in November. Only a little over nine months apart. Their parents had wanted to have three children, and three children they got. Unlike Kieran and Carmine, Zari had not been sent to Blueberry. He had chosen to carry on the family legacy of maskmaking, and had been trained by his grandfather how to do it. Zari, as a result, had not spent much time with Kieran or Carmine in the past few years. He glanced at Paul with a suspicion laced with the slightest tint of jealousy, before shrugging again and changing the subject.