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"NOOO no no, I'm Very Concerned."
@interpolt
“Th-There’s no need to be concerned, father-- really,”
What can she do? Go to another room, put the mega stones causing this reaction on the far side of the room, and come back? Perhaps. But how could she do that without raising more questions?
“It’s... It’s just make-up. You know... those very fine glitters that reflect brightly under certain light...? I... need it for an upcoming role. I can make it stop by washing it off.”
“Would it help if I stayed?” (Looker, @eternallyrisen)
Nightmares & sleeping || Accepting @eternallyrisen
She never intended for him to find out-- not like this. Not with her, deep in the clutches of sleep, suddenly breaking into a fit of screams and thrashing about, to the point where her father understandably assumed that the worst was happening. He had woken her up in a way that had caused more fear, more anxiety, and yet, she cannot blame him in the slightest. There is no way he could have known about any of this-- not when the heroine has gone to such drastic lengths to ensure Looker would be none the wiser to her sleeping issues.
So now, Serena lays in her bed, sheets back up around her form, resting on a side in a way that would obscure her features from his view entirely. She wants him to stay-- more than anything, she yearns for some kind of support; something to ground her in reality if not to calm her racing heart, then help her fall back asleep. Yet it would mean confirming to him what he likely has pieced together himself-- she is hiding something. Some horrific, deep-rooted experience that impacts her in such a painful way, despite the way the heroine acts.
And thus, not a single sound escapes the young woman when she finally responds-- aside from the occasional whimper and sniffle as she attempts to will her tears back into slate blue eyes. An arm unravels itself form the mass of blankets and moves behind the heroine’s form, blindly searching for her father’s hand.
A wordless plea for him to stay-- just a little bit longer.
"So!"
He's sipping coffee, offering her a conspiratorial look.
"Do I get any more information about this hypothetical partner of yours? Or do I get to play Secret Agent Dad and figure it out?"
@interpolt
As hands place a mug atop the table, it takes little more than a second for her to realise what is going on. Those words, that look, that tone. He wants to know more. And there is so much Serena wants to tell him, but what if she comes across as mindlessly throwing herself into something? The last thing the heroine wants is for her father to think poorly of this mysterious individual who has managed to win over her bleeding heart before even meeting him. Yet, to not say anything, or too little-- even as a playful jest-- would mean giving up her right to tell Looker about it first. No, for she is certain he would then find out about it all through gossip-related articles and magazines, given that both parties happen to be public figures in their own ways.
What a vexing little line she chooses to walk on.
“Now, where would be the fun in telling you everything right away?”
She matches his tone, keeping it light-hearted and whimsical as slate blue eyes flicker over his features, and Serena offers him a knowing smile.
“...This hypothetical person is-- he’s from Unova. Around my age. Very handsome. A champion. Maybe played a role in dealing with Team Plasma. So... You might have heard of him already.”
The sound of chair legs scraping the floor hits the air for a moment, the young woman so cruelly using the act of sitting down at the table as a break between statements. Then, an elbow places itself atop the wooden surface, and Serena rests her chin in the palm of her hand, smile brightening.
“He can come across as loud and headstrong at a first glance, but... he’s really sweet and understanding. The sort that... can make your stresses melt away without dismissing them or their importance. Like you can be yourself, without judgement.”
Just kinda. Hugs her from behind. Tight. Resting his chin on the top of her head.
"I love you kiddo. Y'know that?"
@interpolt
It is an unexpected gesture-- one that she meets with the slightest of flinches. But that voice, the way he rests his head atop of hers, it takes less than a moment for Serena to relax. It is her father-- ever a source of comfort and support. Someone she would go to the ends of the world to see happy and safe, but know that he would do the same for her. Someone she is so very proud to call herself the daughter of.
“I do. I’ve always known that. And you know that I love you, too,”
Their situation is not the sort that one would find in those movies or books with perfect, functional families, and yet, she speaks the truth-- the young woman cannot recall a time in her life where she has questioned if her father truly loved her. No, in fact, the knowledge of their bond had been a comfort; a means to quell intrusive thoughts, when the complicated, almost non-existent relationship between the girl and her mother began weighing on her mind-- when Serena started wondering if she was even wanted. For Grace, it had always been a question of if she loved her to begin with, or ever could. For her father, such uncertainties never existed.
Hands rest atop his arms, perhaps in the only way someone could return a hug such as this, and her head turns ever so slightly-- to try and catch a glimpse of his features. Nothing about this seems too out of the ordinary, but given the nature of his work-- how stressful and horrifying the heroine has heard some cases can be--, she ought to check. With, of course, that usual, gentle smile of hers.
“Is everything okay...?”
BURSTS through the door holding what feels like fifty balloons--
"Happy birthday kiddo!"
Birthday asks || Accepting @interpolt
A wave of surprise shoots through the heroine’s form when she hears the door practically fly off of its hinges, the most obvious of flinches pushing her shoulders upwards and seizing her heart. Yet it is quickly-lived when Serena’s form turns towards the entrance to her quaint, tucked away home, and slate blue eyes fall upon an too familiar, all to beloved, figure. One that the Leafeon at her feet also takes note of, and does not hesitate to trot over to, leaf-like tail upright and swishing in a demanding fashion.
Of course he would make such a grand entrance on a day like this.
What escapes from the young woman first as she follows the grass-type is a light set of laughs, and then an expression of gratitude. All while the Fiora nuzzles her head against the side of his leg, and sits herself down, so paws might swat at the strings tied to the balloons. She only dares to continue speaking after a bringing his form into a quick hug.
“I’m so glad to see you, but... that is a lot of balloons. How did you manage it...?”
A question that is, perhaps, best left unanswered, if only to spare her sanity so preoccupied with the thought of how chaotic the place will be, once her Drifblim sees the mass of balloons.
“Can you stay for a little while, or do you need to get back to work? I can make us lunch or tea.”
"There are three kinds of people, kiddo. People who can't finish lists...." (He's trailed off, trying no to laugh at his own joke)
@interpolt
Oh. Oh no. Had it not been the way he approached her, then the ever so subtle way his features flicker after his words trail off screams to the heroine that her father is, in fact, armed with some kind of joke. Elbows rest themselves atop the table before her, hands tenting so that she might rest her chin atop them.
“...And those who can?”
She answers, a light laugh lacing her response.
“You know... I have wondered... If a child refuses to nap, are they guilty of resisting a rest?”
@interpolt replied to your post:
"For the record i did not start the conversation--" open mouth. insert foot.
“I know. I didn’t think you would have,”
A small sigh escapes through her nose. Perhaps she should try ease the mood.
“...If your relationship with anyone is serious though... I would like to meet them. To test them. See if they’re good enough. No ifs or buts-- they are required to pass it. It’s the law. You are only allowed to act as their emotional support.”
Happy Mewmas, Serena! Looker has gotten her a necklace with her birthstone on it, a basket of skincare products and a box of Alolan malasadas.
Holiday asks || Accepting @eternallyrisen
“Sorry,”
She seems to say that a lot around him. Yet, as a hand moves up to wipe away a stray tear that has somehow escaped from her eyes, Serena feels as though she has to. It is not his fault, after all, nor the man’s intention to bring her to such an emotional state. By all means, this is a normal thing. A normal experience. But to the heroine, it is utterly foreign. The first gift from the father she had taken so long to find, and for him, the first gift given to the daughter he neer knew he had.
“I, um... It’s beautiful. All of it. Thank you.”
Hands move to put the necklace on properly, if not to ease the burden and lighten the load, then to show beyond mere words that the young woman adores the gift. She then fumbles around in the depths of her bag in a desperate search for what she had picked out for him. It is nothing half as expensive, but just as heartfelt-- a little photo album, containing what little photos exist from the day of the heroine’s birth, up until her move to Kalos. Candid, ones in Floaroma Town, performances, graduations, competitions-- a physical way, perhaps, to make up for lost time.
“H-Here. These are for you.”
