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[As Gladion decides on his words, Lusamine watches him in turn—still quiet, still studying. Her thoughts follow the same path as his, at about the same time. Though she still senses a wariness in him, she's sure of it: he is different. He's different in just about every way.
Changes in memory. That is what she'd seen, too, isn't it? What he's observed. Like he's reporting to her the results of an experiment, echoing his father.
Snagged by hope, her heart leaps ahead of her, too quick into the conclusion she wants—and fears—the most.
She could answer his unspoken question and they could compare what they remember, but that just isn't fast enough for her in this moment. Gingerly, but without much forethought, she reaches out a hand, brushing it through the glow radiating from him to find his hair with her fingertips. Even her Gladion never much appreciated her coddling him, but—she can't help it.
She's sure that the Gladion of the past several months wouldn't be able to bear her touching him at all, and she could hardly tolerate it either, after her first few attempts led him to react with much worse than just embarrassment. Will he do the same now?]
Gladion... Is it you? [Her voice is a bit strained, but soft.] Have you... come back to me?
[He doesn't shove her away. Neither does he go dead still, as if the safest thing to do is nothing at all, when any errant twitch could become evidence of spite and conspiracy.
All this Gladion does is gape, with a little catch of breath, an aborted laugh. Caught off guard—but recovering swiftly, because it's not how he imagined some hypothetical reunion playing out, but he finds he's not surprised. Reeling at the mere fact that this happened, but if it really did, then of course the first thing his mother would have to say would be like that. Making it about herself.
Her worst tendency: in hindsight, merely frustrating.]
That's what I should be saying. I've been here. [He closes his eyes, as if to pretend he doesn't notice her messing with his hair so that he doesn't have to do anything about it. It's a very teenaged gesture, to match the very teenaged twist in his tone, an unsteady facade of an incredulous scoff. Then, forced-neutral, an addendum:] ...In my memories. [A sticky note slapped over his feelings, messy pen scrawl reading I'm being rational about this. There was another you.
[He's had to pack away his homesickness, like every other idiot here, and now suddenly it's tumbling out like poorly-stacked boxes leaning up on the closet door.
He missed her.
He misses Lillie, and he misses his father most of all (but that's not news). All of them, all of it, all of his stupid ordinary and extraordinary problems from before. Everything he's tried to make peace with never seeing again.
But here she is. Bearing absolutely no answers as to how she—as to how the other her acted, as if none of that ever happened. (Because, if his observations thus far are pointing to the obvious conclusion, it very likely didn't.)]
[Another her. She had presumed as much, loathe though she was to think of it. With reluctance, she admits,]
Yes... I met... another Gladion as well.
[When he reacts to her touch by not reacting much at all, she brushes his fringe briefly away from his face—a long-neglected habit that returns to her easily now. To her credit, that's all she allows herself, wary of overwhelming him. After all, this talk of another her paired with his caution leads her only to unpleasant conclusions.
How long has he been away from her, enduring who knows what from a stranger bearing her face? Well over a year now...
She swallows, eyes full of pain—and then steels herself, expression hardening, so she can speak with conviction.]
But—you must understand. This... person you call another me. She was not me. You know that, don't you?
[Just as the other Gladion was not him. Her heart had gone out to him, and she naturally considered him to be under her protection. Yet she couldn't think of the two as one and the same, lest she accept all the ugly implications that came with doing so. If he was hers, then she and that other Lusamine, too, could be...
She can't bear to give it more thought than that. Too much time has passed, in any case; there's too much she needs to say. Before Gladion can respond to her first question, another tumbles out of her, in a voice that holds as much barely restrained anger as it does anguish.]
[Where does he begin with any of that—the "another Gladion" whose place he's walking around in, or how she goes right back to messing with his hair, or how sorely out of practice at talking to her he's finding himself to be. Or the. You know, the underlying storm surge of grief that's risen from his ankles to his waist in the last few seconds.]
Mother, [he mumbles out, barely audible and exasperated and only a little strangled. Mother, honestly. He could answer that first question in about five different ways. Does he have to get into it right now, though?
Eyes about to close, as if against a headache, go wide again at the second question. A moment of surprise—intensifies—recedes into a pensive frown, Gladion glancing down for a moment and back up as a line of thought chases itself silently across his face.]
No, she...mostly she just scowls and says to get out of her sight. We've barely spoken. [There's more to that, of course, but does he have to get into that right now, either? That anger of hers was a shock then, a smaller surprise now when it's pointed away from him, and what he remembers still isn't adequate to help him chart a course around it, but—right now, confused as he feels and as aggravating as all the alternatives are, he's willing to tuck himself under the wing of it. If that's what she's offering.]
[Though no physical harm came to him, thank goodness, she can't say she's entirely thankful for that answer; that anyone would speak that way to her son—with her mouth, no less—still sends another surge of bright-hot fury through her. It's clear in the way she tenses up, eyes and mouth taut—but, ultimately, she's able to rein it in and redirect her attention to where it ought to go.]
Oh, Gladion... You must have been so frightened. [And confused, and angry, even if he might not show it now. She wonders: he hadn't been alone all this time, had he? Grief makes her voice shake.] I'm—so terribly sorry that I wasn't there for you...
[She takes in a breath.]
But—none of that matters now. That woman is gone, and... [She wants nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him like she did when he was still small. But time has built up a wall between them; just as he feels unpracticed speaking to her, she fears that too much affection from her might overwhelm him, make him think of the other her. Still, she dares to reach out her hand once more at least, to touch his cheek, as she gazes up into his face, despite the way his light threatens to sear her eyes.] I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you...
[It's cruel, too—hideously unfair, that they should reunite here, so far from home, when she imagined him still with Mohn, Lillie, and all their Pokémon—but, selfishly, she can't help feeling happiness all the same.]
[He had wondered, as a matter of fact. After a certain number of months here, having so much of what he thought he knew taken apart and put back together, of course he wondered what it meant that his mother was capable of the things he saw from her. Wondered about the things he didn't see, because she wouldn't let him get close enough for it, so that all he had were secondhand stories and memories of character flaws that might have blown up into caricature. And wondered how much the wondering was worth, in a world where all his closest friends are murderers anyways. But still—
He hadn't quite known how the real her would react, to any of it. Nothing but his own cynicism had really tested their relationship before. Losing Father, apparently, could render her completely unpredictable. What else might?
Not this, evidently. She keeps talking and continues to be utterly recognizable: the laser-focus on what matters to her, the pictures she paints in her head, the cloying affection that she presses on you to...balance it out, to make up for her carelessness. Next comes the part where he brushes it off and scolds her, for willfully ignoring something important. (The implications of their mismatched memories, in this case.)
But he thinks he's figured something out about her in these months. Through other people, funnily enough.
Gladion doesn't move away from the touch. He watches her, attentive in a gentler way than the other him—looks her in the eye, and believes she means what she's saying, in her own way.
(It is so weird to be taller than her.)]
For now, [he mumbles around the lump in his throat, unable to let it go completely unmentioned.]
[He glances over his shoulder, surreptitiously. It doesn't quite work because his wings are in the way. Faces forward. Folds his wings in tighter. Tries again, motion quick, looking flustered.
Then he lifts his wings, just a little, like he's fidgeting with the hood of a parka. They take up a little more space behind him, blocking out a little more of the view though the door.
At the same time, he holds his hands out, palms up, elbows at his sides. The gesture is small and thoroughly awkward.
[For now. Those words make her heart sink. Intellectually, she knows that what he's implying is correct—that at any moment, this happiness might be snatched away from her—but she refuses to accept it.
Her wait is over; she will make sure of it. She'll fix it, as she always does.
When Gladion attempts his wordless, awkward gesture, she knows exactly what he means to tell her, because of course she does. Finally, a fracture appears in her composed expression; a broad smile spreads across her face, then starts to tremble as her eyes glisten.
She encircles her arms around him then and holds him close—tightly, betraying her fear that he'll slip away from her again (she hopes he can forgive her).]
I've missed you so, so terribly... My beautiful boy...
[Being able to hold him again makes her heart flutter and wrench, taking her back to simpler, happier times, while simultaneously reminding her how long it's been, how much she's missed. He's so tall, and over his shoulder, her vision is filled with feathers and the glittering of stars. His height forces him to bend down a little just for her to properly embrace him. While this is only due to his Naphil form, she knows, it feels symbolic of more.
Eventually, a fragmented laugh escapes her, at once relieved and painfully sad.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2023-09-21 06:54 am (UTC)Changes in memory. That is what she'd seen, too, isn't it? What he's observed. Like he's reporting to her the results of an experiment, echoing his father.
Snagged by hope, her heart leaps ahead of her, too quick into the conclusion she wants—and fears—the most.
She could answer his unspoken question and they could compare what they remember, but that just isn't fast enough for her in this moment. Gingerly, but without much forethought, she reaches out a hand, brushing it through the glow radiating from him to find his hair with her fingertips. Even her Gladion never much appreciated her coddling him, but—she can't help it.
She's sure that the Gladion of the past several months wouldn't be able to bear her touching him at all, and she could hardly tolerate it either, after her first few attempts led him to react with much worse than just embarrassment. Will he do the same now?]
Gladion... Is it you? [Her voice is a bit strained, but soft.] Have you... come back to me?
no subject
Date: 2023-09-22 12:11 am (UTC)All this Gladion does is gape, with a little catch of breath, an aborted laugh. Caught off guard—but recovering swiftly, because it's not how he imagined some hypothetical reunion playing out, but he finds he's not surprised. Reeling at the mere fact that this happened, but if it really did, then of course the first thing his mother would have to say would be like that. Making it about herself.
Her worst tendency: in hindsight, merely frustrating.]
That's what I should be saying. I've been here. [He closes his eyes, as if to pretend he doesn't notice her messing with his hair so that he doesn't have to do anything about it. It's a very teenaged gesture, to match the very teenaged twist in his tone, an unsteady facade of an incredulous scoff. Then, forced-neutral, an addendum:] ...In my memories. [A sticky note slapped over his feelings, messy pen scrawl reading I'm being rational about this. There was another you.
[He's had to pack away his homesickness, like every other idiot here, and now suddenly it's tumbling out like poorly-stacked boxes leaning up on the closet door.
He missed her.
He misses Lillie, and he misses his father most of all (but that's not news). All of them, all of it, all of his stupid ordinary and extraordinary problems from before. Everything he's tried to make peace with never seeing again.
But here she is. Bearing absolutely no answers as to how she—as to how the other her acted, as if none of that ever happened. (Because, if his observations thus far are pointing to the obvious conclusion, it very likely didn't.)]
no subject
Date: 2023-09-24 10:24 pm (UTC)Yes... I met... another Gladion as well.
[When he reacts to her touch by not reacting much at all, she brushes his fringe briefly away from his face—a long-neglected habit that returns to her easily now. To her credit, that's all she allows herself, wary of overwhelming him. After all, this talk of another her paired with his caution leads her only to unpleasant conclusions.
How long has he been away from her, enduring who knows what from a stranger bearing her face? Well over a year now...
She swallows, eyes full of pain—and then steels herself, expression hardening, so she can speak with conviction.]
But—you must understand. This... person you call another me. She was not me. You know that, don't you?
[Just as the other Gladion was not him. Her heart had gone out to him, and she naturally considered him to be under her protection. Yet she couldn't think of the two as one and the same, lest she accept all the ugly implications that came with doing so. If he was hers, then she and that other Lusamine, too, could be...
She can't bear to give it more thought than that. Too much time has passed, in any case; there's too much she needs to say. Before Gladion can respond to her first question, another tumbles out of her, in a voice that holds as much barely restrained anger as it does anguish.]
Did she hurt you?
no subject
Date: 2023-09-26 03:47 am (UTC)Mother, [he mumbles out, barely audible and exasperated and only a little strangled. Mother, honestly. He could answer that first question in about five different ways. Does he have to get into it right now, though?
Eyes about to close, as if against a headache, go wide again at the second question. A moment of surprise—intensifies—recedes into a pensive frown, Gladion glancing down for a moment and back up as a line of thought chases itself silently across his face.]
No, she...mostly she just scowls and says to get out of her sight. We've barely spoken. [There's more to that, of course, but does he have to get into that right now, either? That anger of hers was a shock then, a smaller surprise now when it's pointed away from him, and what he remembers still isn't adequate to help him chart a course around it, but—right now, confused as he feels and as aggravating as all the alternatives are, he's willing to tuck himself under the wing of it. If that's what she's offering.]
no subject
Date: 2023-10-04 02:42 am (UTC)Oh, Gladion... You must have been so frightened. [And confused, and angry, even if he might not show it now. She wonders: he hadn't been alone all this time, had he? Grief makes her voice shake.] I'm—so terribly sorry that I wasn't there for you...
[She takes in a breath.]
But—none of that matters now. That woman is gone, and... [She wants nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him like she did when he was still small. But time has built up a wall between them; just as he feels unpracticed speaking to her, she fears that too much affection from her might overwhelm him, make him think of the other her. Still, she dares to reach out her hand once more at least, to touch his cheek, as she gazes up into his face, despite the way his light threatens to sear her eyes.] I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to see you...
[It's cruel, too—hideously unfair, that they should reunite here, so far from home, when she imagined him still with Mohn, Lillie, and all their Pokémon—but, selfishly, she can't help feeling happiness all the same.]
no subject
Date: 2023-10-07 12:33 am (UTC)He hadn't quite known how the real her would react, to any of it. Nothing but his own cynicism had really tested their relationship before. Losing Father, apparently, could render her completely unpredictable. What else might?
Not this, evidently. She keeps talking and continues to be utterly recognizable: the laser-focus on what matters to her, the pictures she paints in her head, the cloying affection that she presses on you to...balance it out, to make up for her carelessness. Next comes the part where he brushes it off and scolds her, for willfully ignoring something important. (The implications of their mismatched memories, in this case.)
But he thinks he's figured something out about her in these months. Through other people, funnily enough.
Gladion doesn't move away from the touch. He watches her, attentive in a gentler way than the other him—looks her in the eye, and believes she means what she's saying, in her own way.
(It is so weird to be taller than her.)]
For now, [he mumbles around the lump in his throat, unable to let it go completely unmentioned.]
[He glances over his shoulder, surreptitiously. It doesn't quite work because his wings are in the way. Faces forward. Folds his wings in tighter. Tries again, motion quick, looking flustered.
Then he lifts his wings, just a little, like he's fidgeting with the hood of a parka. They take up a little more space behind him, blocking out a little more of the view though the door.
At the same time, he holds his hands out, palms up, elbows at his sides. The gesture is small and thoroughly awkward.
Hugs allowed.]
no subject
Date: 2023-10-22 11:48 pm (UTC)Her wait is over; she will make sure of it. She'll fix it, as she always does.
When Gladion attempts his wordless, awkward gesture, she knows exactly what he means to tell her, because of course she does. Finally, a fracture appears in her composed expression; a broad smile spreads across her face, then starts to tremble as her eyes glisten.
She encircles her arms around him then and holds him close—tightly, betraying her fear that he'll slip away from her again (she hopes he can forgive her).]
I've missed you so, so terribly... My beautiful boy...
[Being able to hold him again makes her heart flutter and wrench, taking her back to simpler, happier times, while simultaneously reminding her how long it's been, how much she's missed. He's so tall, and over his shoulder, her vision is filled with feathers and the glittering of stars. His height forces him to bend down a little just for her to properly embrace him. While this is only due to his Naphil form, she knows, it feels symbolic of more.
Eventually, a fragmented laugh escapes her, at once relieved and painfully sad.]
It's so strange... How much you've grown...