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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Nov 22, 2013 5:00:57 GMT -5
Aubre was scared.
Friends gave others people to hurt. They took little pieces of you, such as laughter, and began to hoard them.
That terror tempted her, in a somewhat sub-conscious manner, to crush any friendship before it truly blossomed. The redhead might have continuously called off nights out or picked up odd hours at work in order to avoid growing attacked. Shattered beyond recognition just a year prior, left shards of treasured memories, the broken girl’s heart had managed to piece itself back together; a tiny bit of pain might turn it into dust. When she had finally picked up the phone after her recovery, at her parents’ encouragement, she found pain of a different sort. All of the numbers were no longer in service. They were gone. Aubre knew what was happening with Victoria; she also, especially tonight, had no way to avoid it. I can’t ask her to leave! It’s a nice night! I promised. We’ll have a fun time. She won’t hurt me—she really can’t anyway.. Thoughts circled for a few moments. For some reason, while the reassurance resonated as true, it did not help the anxiety bubbling like acid in her chest. Only one thing scared Aubre more than being completely alone: rebuilding her life and watching it all shatter again.
Sometimes, laying awake at night, Aubre tried to figure out where her anxiety had come from. Had it always been there, just beneath the surface, like some undetected parasite? All she knew was that, before the incident, she had enjoyed everything. Naivety seemed to make the most bitter poison taste of candy. Staring into Simon’s eyes, seeing the fear and the injuries, those same questions began to circulate. Why? Why do this to him? What did this to him?, those thoughts would never be vocalized. Instead, giving her best reassuring smile, Aubre gave a nod. Displaying scars on its edges, which laid near the middle joint, her pinky lifted as if to support her promise. “My teeth are not sharp enough to hurt you anyway—not really. The human mouth is rather n-nasty.” Realizing this would have just made her feel more frightened, the smile just grew a it more.
Aubre had once wanted to be a gym leader; she had spent her entire life looking at her father’s profession with sheer awe. One little incident, besides the dismantling of the entire elite-four system, had changed all those dreams. The puzzle of the future seemed far more complicated than the rest; no pre-cut corner pieces could help her get started. Turning briefly to Victoria, offering a tiny grin, the daintier girl fondly remembered her battling days. Unsure how to respond to Tina, without mentioning she had once loved what some Pokemon considered a blood-sport, the reply was a quick incline of the head. The simple movement seemed jerky; she constantly questioned her body gestures. “Type-advantages aren’t everything. I might win. . .or maybe n-not.” The wink left her a bit off-kilter. It had been a while since she had realized someone was winking at her. Returning the gesture, in a much more sluggish and measured way, the redhead resisted the urge to giggle; Aubre knew she looked like an idiot. Hopefully, instead of being bothered by it, Victoria found something humorous in her awkward friend.
Her hands responded automatically. Aubre tried to reassure her new friend about the lack of public performance in her home, “You don’t have to worry! I don’t have a stage anywhere---you would still outperform me on stage almost any day. It wouldn't fit if I wanted one. . .” The tiny upturn of the lips seemed a bit more forced than before.
Memories were rearing their heads. Aubre was remembering the police officers that first found her after her family's death; the redhead was nearly positive, with her inability to answer, that she would end up locked-away. The fluorescent lighting had made her feel exposed; an interrogation room, for all the horrors it held, was Being put on the spot turned her into a skittish deer; the only thing missing, as the limelight showed in her emerald eyes, was the responsive shine. Her body froze. Her tongue turned to lead. Meeting someone’s gaze became impossible. The conversation at the moment, with someone she was hesitantly forced to admit was chipping at her shell, only made her resemble a slightly unnerved Deerling (instead of one in the middle of a busy highway).
When the redhead had finally given up (feeling ashamed), the entirety of her pale skin was a bright pink. Her fingers trembled slightly. Aubre was reminded, just slightly, of that day in the interrogation room. The ever-patient Arthur seemed to be afflicted with boredom; he gave a pronounced yawn. The request for help, before it reached her mouth, had to navigate a mental obstacle course. You can do it if you try a bit more— The machine gave a hopeful beep before it faded back into silence. or maybe you won’t. Feeling a bit defeated, as was outlined in every downward line of her face, the redhead finally gave in. Her heart pounded. She really did not want to be made fun of; depending on others, especially for something so simple, made her feel as if she was in the hospital all over again.
One steadying hand was held out as Victoria crouched beside her. If not for displeasure and impatience on her friends part, due to Aubre’s incompetence, the fight with the machine would have continued for hours. Instead of admitting that, likely making herself look bull-headed, the trainer forced herself to give a resolute nod. The poke just made the colors flare up more pronounced; Aubre wagered a flop of Flamingos would have accepted her at this point. “I’m s-sorry; it was just frustrating. I know how it works. I just used it . . . “ The player popped to life with a series of beeps and clicks. The screen remained empty. The question about remotes made her eyes go wide. Clutched in her hand as if it might save her life, made of simple black plastic, was the wrong one: “I really don’t usually do that. I haven’t had anyone over in a while—I’m happy to have you, of course! It’s just a bit different. . .“ Shrinking inside her clothing, nearly all of her, Aubre twisted her torso towards the cheap coffee-table. Swapping the thing in her hand for a newer model, one not covered in dust. A single button push allowed the television to give a patronizing welcome message.
Commercials began to play after the opening screen. Brushing aside her wounded pride, which was extremely sensitive, Aubre humbly offered some gratitude. “Thank you, Vi—Tori. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. . .”
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Post by Victoria A. Ashton on Jan 30, 2014 21:49:12 GMT -5
Tori would have told Aubre not to be scared. She wouldn’t want her to be nervous of these things. She also knew all the same things that Aubre would have got at. Friends were dangerous. Tori had always liked to joke to her grandfather, when the people in high school would be rude to her, or try to walk all over her, because she was ‘too nice’, according to him, that friends were also your worst enemy. People told them everything, with little thought of just why that might not be such a bad thing. Tori had never thought it was a bad thing. Sweet Arceus, she thought friends were the best thing—but she could make a few jokes herself, right? And she had faced her fair share of tough times at the hands of people she had once laughed with and thought she loved.
She wasn’t Aubre, however. She didn’t know Aubre, and she had most definitely not been through what Aubre had. They were two peas, but they were not from the same pod. As much as Tori might try to relate, to get Aubre to open up to her, there’d always be one single wall between them. She couldn’t kick that one down. It was called Aubre herself. Tori would just have to bet her luck on being able to climb over it—She was good at that. Some might call it getting under peoples skins—Tori just liked to call it one fun night where two friends stayed up till two am together. Nothing good ever happens after two am. Not true. People who lasted that long always got closer.
What had done this to Simon? The little Pokemon hated to talk about it. Tori never pushed when it wasn’t called for, because she really was a firm believer that time could heal. She would have told Aubre that, once she got her to open up, because she thought it was the truth. She would have taken her friends hand, and she would have said that anxiety could be caused, and anxiety could be there, but most of all, Aubre was bigger than it, and it didn’t change how much of a wonderful person she was. Tori would not have hesitated to help her through it, every step of the way, just like she had Simon, even if the fear, the nervousness, the anxiety still shone freely in his eyes—she saw him when there wasn’t strangers around, however. Tori heard Simon laugh, giggle, break into fits of mischievousness you wouldn’t expect from the Spoink.
She wanted to be able to see that in Aubre, and she only needed the chance. She wasn’t blind.
Simon, did, however, look a bit alarmed at that. It may have shown for what Tori had done for him that he didn’t bounce back behind her legs like he wanted to, ”A—a—a—okay. I’ll. Believe you?” Tori took a moment, in the back of her head, to avoid that saying with the Spoink from here on out. She did, however, think that Aubre was getting to him—in a good manner. He seemed more comfortable already.
Now inside the apartment, and ready to start the evening’s fun, Tori gave a bit of a laugh. Stage? She could remember looking at the drama programs where she had went to school and thinking of how fun it would be to attend, ”Maybe I’ll hold you to that one sometime, Aubre. Tina and I make great actresses, trust me.” A wave of her hand, meant to come off as flighty, really didn’t fit with the girl. Tina gave a small laugh herself, ”Correction, I’m the girl actor. You’re just the girl who likes to trip over her feet and throw in a bit of drama for the sake of it… And we’re back to you being a klutz?” A snort came clearly from Tori, and even Simon started to laugh—the evening might not be out before Aubre saw the Spoink give some of his famed laughter over a subject at hand.
None of Aubre’s worries over her need for help over the DVD player came to Tori’s mind as she crouched beside her friend, ”These things give me trouble all the time—One time Tina had to point out to me that I just had the batteries in the wrong way! Not my fault that the springy part is supposed to go against the flat side! I think that’s production error on the manufacturers part.” A knowing nod, and Tina gave a snort. Tori had been absolutely embarrassed that day—She felt no reason not to throw it out now. A bit of a self joke tended to work charms, or so she felt.
”You’ll get used to it, Miss Aubre. Unless you plan on turning me down at my next offer to hang out?” Another playful wink. She didn’t mean anything by it, and while she would have been hurt by any such thing, she would never hold Aubre to it. Friendship took time, after all, ”I do think I just found your next Christmas present, though! Universal remote, anyone?”
”They have some wonderful ones down at the mall! I saw them last time we were there.”
”Did you, Tina? That’s it! Simon, we’re going to the mall tomorrow!”
”O—Okay.”
(72 Hours before responding)
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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Feb 11, 2014 3:42:31 GMT -5
Fear was stubborn. It was more obstinate than the wall built around her core. Her nights were spent in a mixture of hell and heaven. Parents in one breath were loving and comforting. In the next moment, like flipping a switch, they contorted into monstrous parodies of themselves. Her father with fingers of burnt vines. The mother dripping burnt flesh, sarcasm, and smoldering anger. These sudden switches, which might seem ridiculous to some, had been experienced first hand—an angel had grew horns. A friend who had been laughing moments earlier, blue eyes sparkling with mirth, had hurt her. Would Victoria do it too? The fact that the girl was at her home, even if the invitation had been forgotten, spoke volumes about trust levels.
Then again, such actions just made something easily apparent: Aubre was lonely. Her urge to be safe was slowly being overwhelmed. What did her life, worthless and spent in constant terror, mean anymore? Was this even living? Those questions were hard to face when your heart pounded in her ears—what was alive?
She wished the wall would leave sometimes. The wall was stubborn; it was the interlocking scales of a little armadillo or the scarred shell of a turtle. Aubre had learned how to craft a strong barrier between herself and others. It had slowly been suffocating her. It was hard to see what was outside. Was it good? Was it bad? The old her would never have suspected a fox to coax her from the hole. This girl knew better. People were dangerous. Some knowledge you just couldn’t unlearn. She wanted it gone; the clock to turn back and return what she had lost: herself.
Kick it. Break it. Twist it. Turn it. Burn it. Trust. It would ultimately be putting herself in another’s hands and letting them pull upward. Victoria had managed to leave spidery little cracks in that barrier. The dark-haired girl just had to believe the wall would hold her weight. Aubre doubted it—she was weak after all.
Aubre could see it. The Spoink racing away to cower beneath something. It would end up stuck, pushed into the ground, and slowly die. It had been a poorly worded joke; talking to others without some sort of itinerary, like selling items at work or teaching children, was an uncertain process. When those dark eyes widened, reminding her of the iamge in a mirror, Aubre winced. Pink spread across her cheeks. Idiot. You scared him! Apologize—but you can’t say anything stupid. It’s a bit of an uphill battle, isn’t it? Her lips dropped back over her blunt teeth. The smile, which now had a hint of sheepishness, shrunk for a moment. “Sorry, Simon. I didn’t mean it like that—“ What civilized human would think of biting another creature—much less make a joke about it? “It came out wrong,” Rubbing at her arms, trying to generate heat, the redhead quietly continued. “Just forget I said that.” Do not get too comfortable with others; that was her mantra. She would understand if their little connection which might not even exist, remained intact.
The old her would have, after a few minutes of hesitant shuffling, thrust herself into that limelight. Each and every thing should be tried at least once. This woman had little intention of actually performing on stage (or trying poisoned food because it was only one time). “O-oh? I’m a horrid liar—“ Frowning, realizing that was insulting to a lot of those who took to the stage, Aubre hastily corrected herself. “Actress. I really can’t lie—or act—the two aren’t related, really. You t-w-o would be be great—you’re very charismatic..elegant…open.” Nodding twice, tentatively satisfied with that word, Aubre just watched the pair. Smiling, trying to remember a moment where Tori was clumsy, the younger trainer just smiled. “I—“ They are friends. You’re not a knight. Leave it alone. Her mouth snapped stubbornly closed.
Why did they make the ends so strange? Technology had come a long way. Phones could browse the internet, order delivery, and take fingerprints. Batteries couldn’t conquer being inserted in the wrong direction. “I don’t think that’s what I did—or would do—but..” She had used the wrong remote, she was far more idiotic than someone who flipped a battery around. “I think you’re right.” Would a battery, with its different ends blended together, still be considered such? Cheeks still flushed, hands still trembling, and eyes still full of embarrassment, it was hard to tell what impact the anecdote had. Aubre felt a bit better.
She will just get hurt. Why couldn’t that voice leave her alone? Would turning that half-empty glass upside down, allowing it to spill over, bring back any optimism? While the video began to load, the player giving aged groans of protest, the trainer had one thing to say.
A universal remote would be helpful. There would be fewer things to burn when he returned. Less clutter for flames to chew. Throwing away her other remotes, there were three of them, would be a bit cruel. They had not done anything wrong. “It would be more convenient. I mean, even if some of these are new, it can be a bit confusing...”
Frowning, as if pondering an important fact, Aubre felt her words tumble out. “It’s not Christmas tomorrow…” Idiot. The television decided it wished to loudly pronounce the movie’s introduction.
’Quiet down children.’ The younger girl felt like a scolded child. The Persian on the other paw, half-asleep and in the clutches of a dream, hissed and spat. Brown eyes stared, in a daze, at the screen. Aubre couldn’t help it: she laughed.
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Post by Victoria A. Ashton on Mar 26, 2014 17:54:03 GMT -5
Sometimes I need a little sunshine And sometimes I need you HAd she gotten an exact explanation for what had happened to Simon? No. Maybe the adopter had wanted to spare her. It couldn't have been anything good, after all, if it had left the little pokemon so terrified, and she had been young then. Young and more fragile than what she was now. She understood better now that she was older what the little Pokemon must have experienced, though the Spoink didn't often speak of it. Aubre was far from scary--but when you had seen and been through something traumatizing, that didn't always matter. Her apology did, even with Simon's slightly nervous gaze, help. The little Pokemon gave a nod, "I--I know." That little connection had something to do with how easily the Spoink was able to let it slide off--even if it rested at the back of his mind.
Stage life was not for Tori. Oddly enough, even if she was energetic and charming, the idea of being on stage in front of many people didn't sit well with her. When she was little, she'd jump up on the coffee table, remote in hand, and sing her little heart out--until her grandmother got angry and kicked her off. Television shows made it seem like being in that limelight was all you could ever wish for. Now she had a bit more of a realistic view on it--camera's flashing and fans fluttering wasn't her cup of tea, "Maybe! Once in high school I participated in drama and was a tree for the play! Does that count? Took lots of charisma!" She giggled. Tina rolled her eyes, the chubby Pokemon looking unimpressed. Tori had dropped the cardboard cut out on stage. The crowd had laughed. Victoria, unlike some people, had laughed with them.
Tori was pretty sure that at one point that had been explained to her in her High School physics class. Or was it chemistry? Something about how the electrons travelled and using up skittles. Except the skittles had just been part of the demonstration. There was a reason she had went into nursing and not one of the three big sciences, "I do it all the time, so I wouldn't be surprised! They might be dead too--Did you know that if you want to know that a batteries out of juice, you can bounce it off the flat end and if it stays standing up that means it's good?" A sudden burst of a little trick she had learnt from her grandpa--For some reason she had thought of it. Learning is as a small kid, it had been followed by weeks of her, annoyingly, bouncing batteries off their table.
Would she get hurt? Would interacting with this ginger, so innocent it seemed, and rather adorable in Tori's eyes, somehow end up with her getting hurt? It's not something that had crossed Tori's mind since she stepped through the door, and it was unlikely that, until the event happened, it ever would. She did not live her a toy shoe. She did not avoid life around her. She lived for the rush, the fun. She was no adrenaline junky, but she was definitely an optimist, "Haven't you ever heard of second christmas?" A moment. Tina snorted, and shook her head slowly, while Simon let out the smallest of giggles before Tori continued, "...Only joking!" A giggle herself followed, "Sometime, though! When's your birthday, anyway?"
The sudden exclamation made her jump, and when Aubre looked, a smile quite different than the one that had been on Tori's face since than appeared now--to put it simply, it was brighter. It was happier to hear her new friend give such an exclamation. Her own giggles came forth, and the black haired girl covered her mouth. The Persian spitting only made her giggle harder, and she rocked back slightly. Fear was stubborn. Tori had never been gripped in its stubborn hands--not really. Not like Aubre had. It was why she would have found it hard to understand. Maybe Tori had found a way to wiggle up through that stubbornness and really get up to Aubre--but it would take more time. It would take hours of whittling away at it. Tori was ready to put in that time.
"Now we're talking!"
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Feather
EXECUTIVE
Posts: 2,835
OOC Name:: Feather
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Post by Feather on Apr 4, 2014 0:08:54 GMT -5
Would talking about it help? The redhead herself was a closed person. The thoughts, on most occasions, were stored away. Those memories avoided at all costs. Sadly, as the university and her last few months with her parents bordered the, the tiny pieces of cheerful nostalgia were deprived as well. Aubre would never ask. She was much more likely, unless she felt a true need, to hammer someone’s secrets more securely into place than attempt to wrench them open. People, like Clamperl, needed to be tickled properly—or trust others. Then again, judging by the amount of pearls in museums, that was a poor idea. Simon had no worries from the redhead; the worst she would do, in the middle of the night, was mistake him for a shadow on the floor. “I am glad you know—though it was a silly thing to say.” You just need to sew your mouth shut. It wouldn’t look half bad. Use all sorts of string.
The limelight? Aubre had nevr truly wished to be the center of attention. She liked being involved, but even before the accident, the redhead had been a bit shy. It took her a while to warm up. The idea of a stage now was like her worst nightmare. What would she do? Stutter through some random thoughts in her head? The audience would likely chortle as they phoned the authorities. The horrorshow, or perceived one if the McKenna went on stage, was quickly stalled. Victoria had answered the question. A tree? The redhead found herself unable to resist a smile. Like an airborne virus, Tori’s laughter was hard to avoid and absorb. A few chuckles escaped from her lips too. “It certainly does—trees do all sorts of things—“ Aubre ventured with some admissions of her own. “I was one of the Pravus founders in an elementary play—“ The video was one thing, gratefully, that had burned. “Was it an oak tree? You were likely great either way.” Quit asking stupid questions. Idiot.
The redhead enjoyed science; chemistry and biology were fascinating. Sadly, as her teachers were rather dull, her laboratory had been free of Skittles. Growing up around Ethan and Lenore, she had admired some of their work. The field of research could save everyone—and the planet. Her lips curled up into a wider smile. The trainer could not remember the last time she had inserted batteries in wrng. Then again, whenever she inserted them, she read the labels three or four times. The redhead thought she had enough issues without ignoring directions. The idea of the trick was fascinating! Filled with curiosity, having the urge to gently bounce a battery, Aubre had to resist her natural inclinations. What if it bounced into someone’s eye? Could it spray what little acid it had across the room. “I didn’t know that—I do now. I am certain, in no time, my home wll look as if the elect-tronics finally won.” Fingertips stroked the smooth table. Did she need another launch pad for the little experiments to come?
Hook. Line. Sinker. It was a bit less painful than being a fish; at least Tori had few plans to garnish her in garlic and serve her for dinner. Long bags obscured her vision as she shook her head“I have not—I’ve had a bit more than two Christmases though—“ Emerald eyes widened. The Chansey laughed. The Spoink was giggling. She looked like an idiot “It would be nice if it existed—“ You are smoother than a Mankey’s bottom, keep it up. Hands angrily waved the bitterness away. Her birthday? Gaze lifting, to a calendar upon the wall, it seemed as if she had difficulties. “March 22. Yours?” She hoped Victoria didn’t attempt to buy her anything.
Victoria, at this rate, would soon become a mastferil carpenter and wood carver. The frigid redhead was stuck in ‘defrost’.
“I think the narrator said we should be quiet---“ The redhead gave a playful grin. She spoke seconds later. “I’m a bit of a terror for authority…” What did you do with friends? Dark eyes lifted to stare at the girl beside her. What fit the situation? The motion on the screen held her gaze—until the worry vanished. For now. “
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