─── ҉ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 : life after repeated severe trauma / the effects of obsession on yourself and those around you / turning horror into beauty and artwork / learning to walk the path of good after having been dealt some dark cards.
" heh. someone here has to have something for the other to grab on to ... " despite himself, he's smiling as he shakes his head. " just so happens mine is - that. and yours is ... " silver takes a hand, and vaguely gestures to the top half of his partner. his smile grows in its mirth, impish even.
this is such a fucking bother. hospital beds are the worst. being loopy on pain medications is even worse. surgery sucks. post-op recovery sucks. everything sucks.
he also feels so immensely bad for what happened in general, silver almost wishes he could sink into the mattress regardless. and on fucking camera, nonetheless, on fucking academy grounds, as an alum -
one of the most he beloved activities on academy grounds ... a tournament only newly introduced that had swept the campus and caught on to the rest of paldea, as if it had become something equivalent to a regional sport.
the academy ace tournament ... something silver found himself enjoying beyond measure within naranja, something he still frequented whenever allowed. something he personally requested to clavell that he would be allowed to partake in, that all alumni in general should be allowed to sign up for. a way of bridging generations of students, from here in the present 'till years in the future - each graduating class getting the chance to battle and learn from both teachers, classmates, and alumni.
this tournament round was no different than the dozens already that silver has competed in.
the first match passed with ease, a poor student's reckoning with facing off an otherwise elite battler ... perhaps silver felt somewhat bad for wiping out the kid's team like he did.
but, hey. he learned a lot of hard lessons at that age, too. a loss or two never hurt.
atleast, never hurt like the way his knee's been feeling lately.
it popped weirdly twice during that match, even with silver mindfully attempting to hold back from moving with his pokemon as much as he normally does. he plays it safe, a promise made to his beloved that he'd listen to his body's warning signs - staying back more, yes, and sitting in between matches when it isn't necessary to be on his feet.
he contemplated, and settled on, the solution in the event should his knee feel any worse or pop once more, he would forfeit out of the tournament and rest.
there would always be another day.
but as much as he hated to admit it, this kind of pain had become so wildly normal throughout his life since being petrified. so much so that silver almost doesn't even register the severity of what it really was that day, and that led to decisions made, even with this in mind, without fully taking consequence into account.
so he rose to his feet again. he moved, albeit somewhat even more less, during the battle. ( it was still a promise made. ) the battle was won, his knee cooperated and it looked as if perhaps it would settle the rest of the day.
he sat again, whilst weavile handed him an ice shard. semi-finals next.
ah. he'd be going against a teacher. jacq, it seems ...
silver can't help the smile that pulls across his face, however small. the teachers always provided a higher-tier challenge than those of his former-classmates, and the prospect of a more intense battle brought him some welcome distraction for the frustration that often accompanied a day such as this.
and the battle went well. it was going well.
he was light on his feet, yet kept his movement restrained and careful ; all of this and still silver could not prevent the following moment.
it was a jump. backwards, as to avoid the sudden maneuver backwards that feraligatr had to take in order to avoid a direct blow - silver's foot would connect down on the court ground, it was as if his knee simply gave with only a breath's whisper of force. as if there was nothing to it at all, the last frayed strand of a rope simply pulling away from its counterpart.
no grand and dramatic snap that could be heard from feet away, just one big pop! within his knee, and the next thing silver could feel was the floor and his lungs on fire - absolutely winded.
winded ... until his nerves caught up to him, and the adrenaline dared to give way for him to feel what had just happened. immediately do silver's hands fly to his knee as he brings it up, face screwing itself up in pain and he hisses, curls in to himself, and then flattens out - curses, curls into himself and his knee again, flattens out - curls into his knee, and stays ; breathless and panting from the assault on his nerves.
this was new. silver wasn't used to this, anymore. his body didn't have it in itself to muster up the strength from residual adrenaline to get himself up, to gain a hold over his breathing and will the waves of fiery pain to a dull throb.
he simply lay there with his intermittent gasping to break up the agonized paralysis of his lungs, hissing as he did so, sound fading out around him to the fringes of his consciousness.
silver did not feel as if he was on the verge of passing out - albeit he almost wishes he could, to be momentarily spared from the embarrassment and the chaos that ensued all from his dumb fucking tendons and knee joint- not that much could be felt other than the stomach-flipping pain that shot through his leg and body every other second - but that was just it.
there was no registering of the sound and happenings around him. even as nurse miriam rushed in, her heels a normally familiar and comforting sound, something merely just far away now.
he was just nerves-on-fire and desperation. desperately holding on to those that helped pick him up, to the lugia-forsaken stretcher that would surely be his escort to the nearest hospital ...
...
... ...
... ... ... just his luck, huh? after this many years ...
after so long of having a knee that had almost been destroyed in its own regard after petrification and the position he had been frozen in ...
...
this was really it?
...
... ... ( oh, depths swallow me whole - what about grusha? )
fucking goosebumps from the level of amazement of this artemis livestream guys. actually got a little misty eyed from the majesty of this entire trip from the crew, space is gorgeous. earth is magnificent. i can't wait to see all the pictures that come from this flyby, i've got the livestream on until they close it 😭
i... i missed you, mother. and i'm sorry. but what i've realized, now, is just how much i want you - need you back in my life. if we can rebuild... if we can be... a family again... ?
Five years of silence and distance has scabbed over the raw, weeping wound of Silver’s absence. At the ringtone, one of only three she's set on her phone, that still healing wound is ripped wide open. Sol’s phone slips through her fingers, clattering against the plate she’d just set out. The sound draws a sharp look from N, tending to their lunch on the stove, and he calls her — endearment first, then her name.
“ I’m fine, ” she answers on reflex. Flexes her fingers, then picks up her phone to check the caller ID. Her ringtone doesn’t lie; good to know @rcguish hasn’t changed his number. “ It’s Silver. ”
“ Ah, ” N says, in a tone that suggests he thinks she’s very much not fine. At Sol’s glance, lips pursed and brows flat, he raises his hands palms out. “ Okay, okay. Yes — Auntie. You’re totally fine. ”
“ Stop talking so much. Why are you acting so free? You’re going to burn the curry, focus on what you’re doing. ” Irritation threads through her words as she pulls out a chair, easing into it, N’s grumbling like white noise in her ears. For a moment, her thumb wavers over the screen. Sol closes her eyes. Hits the button and puts her phone to her ear. “ Hi Silver. ”
“ …Hi Mother. ” She can see his face; fear flickering in his eyes, shoulders weighed down by shame. Sol takes a slow, deep breath. Listens to Silver’s shaky ones in the static clouding the line.
Right on cue, Sneasel leaps into her lap, claws drawing blood as he kneads her thighs. One might think, from his abysmal yowling, that he might be subject to an acid bath. The pain (and the noise) pulls her from the nausea gnawing at her gut, (where is he? where has he gone? has he been taken again? have i failed again? is he safe? where is my son — ) back to the here and now. Sol scritches the demon under the chin. When this serves to only prompt increasingly deafening yowls and aggressive kneading, she begins smacking his lower back firmly enough she’s certain it can be heard through the call. Naturally, the unholy creature ceases its torment. Sol pulls her phone far away from her face.
“ You bring me nothing but misery and dead rats, ” she informs Sneasel, who purrs like a chainsaw. Sol clicks her tongue. The phone returns to her ear.
💬 Clothing rustles, masking the tremor in her son’s words. “ I... I missed you, Mother. And I'm sorry. But what I've realized, now, is just how much I want you — need you back in my life. If we can rebuild... if we can be... a family again... ? ”
“ Ball’s in your court, Silver. If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do. ” She takes a breath. Steadies her voice. “ I’ve always been here. I’ll always answer your calls. ”
I love you. It sits in her mouth, untongued.
“ Have you eaten today? ” she says instead, trapping her phone between cheek and shoulder. Arms loop around Sneasel, hosting him up, and the demon’s resulting yowl is loud enough to send static shrieking through the call. Sol adjusts her hold. Turns Giratina’s apostle upside down and shakes him vigorously — Enough, hooligan. Your abuse is intolerable. — nodding to N as she moves to her bedroom.
His hand alights on her shoulder, squeezing gently. (If you need anything…) Though it doesn’t extend past her eyes, Sol finds a smile for him. (This is my cross to bear, but thank you.) His grip tightens, momentary assurance, then releases, and she feels the weight of his gaze on her back as she retreats.
genuinely makes me unwell just how much paldea has grown on silver.
johto was his home, his personal rise and fall, and it has a lot of context to him that he just can't ever ignore or turn his back fully away from - but no place was every truly "home" to him. he came to prominence in johto, yes, but he also lived with blue in kanto and eventually came to visit her frequently wherever he caught her at the time. he even lived with steven and his mother, sol, on and off for a while, coming to know hoenn and (wherever goblin decides to put sol geographically). even unova was a place he began to grow familiar with as he chose to live there for a short while post-scratch.
but all of these places, all of this roaming throughout his life, and no place has ever fully, entirely felt like "home" to him. he was even starting to come up on the question if he truly cared about paldea at all during his studies, chalking it up to be something he'd also eventually leave when he graduated. but then grusha happened, and slowly paldea became a place he genuinely started to feel like he'd been rooted in to. longer and longer it went on that they dated, and more and more did the promise of a future together seem less of a promise and more of an unspoken reality. soon, it really did become home.
all because he realized that home was less of a region, a place, and more of a person that he put his everything into... and his person also happened to already have their roots ingrained into paldea.
and when he moved in with them, when the both of them started becoming a little more adventurous and daring to go further than montenevera or levincia, silver really started to associate paldea with the extension of "home" in his mind. visited cascarrafa again, and then medali... still goes to mesagoza for some of the tournaments, but this time might linger for a little longer. takes in the artwork and the architecture again, but with a freshly renewed sense of respect. maybe even some degree of pride.
paldea is only home because his person is there. or atleast that's how it started... now, silver has truly learned how to see and appreciate its beauty just like he had in other parts of the world. a different sense, though; deeper. genuinely feels like he's living there, rather than just making it through each day.
