#{sycamore.}

[iruludavare]

‘ f a i n t e d ‘ (amorfiducia) (shh I’m too lazy to switch accounts on mobile, so anon it is)

Send 'f a i n t e d' for my muse to find yours passed out || Selectively accepting

@amorfiducia

     How odd it is, that this very laboratory is almost akin to a third home of hers within the region. A place of comfort and safety, filled to the brim with bright minds of good faith in levels equal to one another. Lead by the professor, whom Serena wagers must work tirelessly to ensure the environment within these walls remains nurturing and open, free from the plights of academia and funding. A coffee in hand, Serena steps out from the elevator. A researcher greets her with a familiar nod and smile, wordlessly pointing off to the distance before returning to the pulsating screens before them. She rounds the corner, head first poking around the partition just to make sure that no work too pressing or vital would be interrupted.

     And in lieu of shuffling through scattered papers or the clacking of a keyboard, she instead sees both being used as some sort of makeshift pillow. Sycamore, still sitting in his chair. Head resting against by wood frozen in time. Arms sprawled across the desk. Asleep. Serena tilts her head to the side, ever so slight.

          "Professor?"

     She waits. Silence. Not even a tell-tale shift. He must really have overworked himself this time. Her steps are light, cautious— carrying the champion over to his desk so she might place the coffee atop it, but not close enough to be unceremoniously knocked over when he might awake with a startle. Hands dust themselves against the skirt of her coat. Then, Serena hastily returns to her prior spot. A sigh escapes, neither tired nor vexed, but in recollection of similar past occurrences. One more try, then she will leave a letter by the gramophone, so he knows that she did show up, and can still swing by again at a later time to talk about whatever it is he called her here for.

          "...Hello? Professor? Did you fall asleep again?"

[iruludavare]

The Star of Kalos would receive a letter, one that smells very lightly of rosewater.

*Dear Serena, I hope you're well. I saw your last performance, as always. Tres magnifique! You never cease to amaze me. I'm so proud of you and who you've become.

Pardon if this is sudden or unwelcome, but if you ever get a chance, could you stop by the lab? There is a matter I feel I must discuss with you.

~Professor Augustine Sycamore.*

@plataneprofessor

     If there is one thing that Serena knows about the professor, it is his love for reaching out to others via letter, as opposed to texts or emails, or even a simple call. Had the envelope itself, when held between the tips of fingers, not been a giveaway to the sender’s identity, then the faint scent of rosewater spoke droves in its place. The same perfume she recalls her mother speaking of both within their first few days of Kalos, and the day after that parade. And inside laid familiar contents-- a request for the blonde to come see him; that a matter sits upon his shoulders that must be discussed in one place or another. Unsurprising, but not unwelcome. Yet, ever the student fretting over her built up image of competency, Serena had wasted no time in heeding the words-- in leaving the comfort of her quaint home hidden among knee-length flowers, and trading it for the bustling cobblestone streets of Lumiose City. 

     Heading towards that same laboratory. Past that same receptionist. And into that same, old-fashioned elevator.

     Whatever it is he wishes to speak on, she thinks, it must be related to his research. A discovery or new hypothesis on mega evolution’s complex workings, or the effects on either party involved. Or perhaps it is instead to do with the energy radiating from the sundial? A recovered, ancient text? As cautious strides bring the heroine’s form along the partial wall diving his office from the rest of the floor, arms cannot help but embrace the form of a Leafeon closer to her chest. It must be important-- so much so, that Augustine would not dare put even the vaguest of descriptions in the letter, in fear of it falling into unintended hands. That must be it, right?

          “You wanted to see me, professor...?”

     She speaks, low and ever so slightly hushed, despite its intention to grab his attention. Head peaks out from around the wall, smile present and slight, but faltering. Air weighs down upon her shoulders, sinking, clawing at her sides. A coo sounds from the grass-type held close, whether to echo her trainer’s words or to simply bring Serena’s thoughts back down to reality, one cannot tell. After all, for what reason has she to be nervous? To feel anything but comfortable and safe in the presence of an individual who has shown her nothing but generosity and kindness from day one?

          “Is now a good time?”

[iruludavare]

" dreams are kind of funny like that!...it's odd how little we really know about them. pokemon have them, we have them. sometimes they seem like they can go on and on about future events, or feel like de ja vu, superstition or not it's interesting right? "

Augustine paused then let out an awkward little chuckle.

" ...or maybe i'm rambling! why do you ask about them? have an odd one? "

( @variiavi ; sycamore )

@variiavi

     Perhaps she had not been clear enough. Her question too vague-- too open to interpretation by one whom the heroine is uncertain could truly understand. Though a heart sinks, paving the way for a tightness to grip at the back of her throat and for nails to dig into the flesh of arms so subtly, Serena fights to keep her features in place. Years of miming, of exaggerating emotions to convey the emotions within a story, freeze well-trained muscles in place, digging into each fibre and holding its still. Of course he would not catch on-- she is nothing more than a perfect aide. The one who stood strong in the face of danger, the one who was approved for mega evolution, the champion, the heroine. She, whose life seems perfect from outsider’s look in. Whose smiles light up a room as much as they do a set on stage, and grace permeates each and every movement. No, with her façade, there is no way-- not a single, stray thread in her act-- that could dare tip off the professor to the fact that this assistant of his, why she has been plagued with nightmares of a kind so visceral, they leave her body thrashing and screaming.

     That the very same danger she opposed still has its claws dug deep into her skin.

          “Oh-- no... No. I haven’t had any odd ones lately...”

     Comes the blonde’s response after a sharp clearing of the throat. At the very least, it appears he thinks her question harmless, and not an indication for greater concern. Good. Now, the heroine can simply walk away and not have him mull on the encounter for more than a fleeting moment. It was a mistake to come here with the intention of asking for help. A mistake to think she could hold onto the courage that had taken days to build and nurture in the depths of a bleeding heart.

          “I was just... curious, I think. I wasn’t sure if you knew any more than I did about them.”

[iruludavare]

"You know, I...did study at the Tower of Mastey myself, once." A pause, and a smile that is nothing if not painfully polite. "It didn't quite work out, but it's a very fine place."

@amorfiducia

     So the story she was told happened to be true. Of course, Serena had not a single reason to doubt what was ushered to her in the tower’s stairwell. A simple conversation-- an exchange of backgrounds between two trainers studying at the heritage site-- turned into a brief mention of something that could serve as common ground between herself and the stranger. She, a student of Professor Sycamore who had been approved by the Guru, and he, someone who had seen that same man training at the tower once and overheard left well before completion. Should it be a topic she handles with the utmost care? Could it still be, to this very day, a sore spot for Augustine? Oh, but why would he bring it up in a manner so free, and smile in such a way, too?

     Perhaps it might be an attempt to relate to the heroine, knowing so well of her success in the training and occasional return to the tower to further refine it all.

          “It is,”

     The words escape from her as a mumble, soft and gentle-- a sort of tone familiar and so closely associated with the blonde. 

          “...But the training is also... very rigorous. Very demanding. I’ve heard during my time there that so many more people leave the tower than those who gain qualifications...”

     ‘Perhaps it is why his research could never quite shoot off as quickly as he hoped,’ Is a though that echoes in the depths of the young woman’s mind. Without the training, himself, and the sheer amount of people who leave before finishing it, little more could be investigated at a distance any closer than an arm’s length. In sight, but just out of reach. Shoulders lift in an amount slight, yet visible, attempting to balance the weight that settles upon them. Has she been doing enough? Writing enough reports? Describing her experiences with the right  amount of thoroughness?

          “It’s probably a good thing. Harsh but... fair. Mega evolution should not be wielded freely and by anyone who does not understand the risks. I’m sorry to hear it did not work out for you, though, professor.”

[iruludavare]

❛ you are my student- i chose you when you came here thinking it'd be a great way to see the world and make new friends. i remember going to sinnoh when i was your age, i remember how it felt and i wanted to make sure you didn't feel the same way i did. but if i knew what that would become, that innocent desire to help- i think about it every day. while i never pulled the trigger so to speak, i constantly still feel just as responsible as if i did. i am responsible for stealing your future and i can never make up for that.❜ // kalosial

@kalosial

         “Professor…”

    To some degree, perhaps Serena knew this conversation would happen. That the guilt from a situation entirely out of the man’s control would come back to haunt him so, and manifest in an expression of regret to the one impacted the most by it. The girl burned by someone she had trusted at his recommendation, who had been caught in that firing of the weapon, who now glows in the presence of the very stones he had asked her to research, thanks to a hypothesis he wished to test. Lips press themselves into a thin line as the blonde’s heart lurches—as a feeling so heavy and uncomfortable settles upon her bleeding heart. She could not blame him; not for anything. Augustine, why he has always been akin to that of a father figure, has he not? A guiding light in a time where she had been wandering around in complete darkness.     And after all, had it not been for him, would Kalos have had anyone to stop Team Flare on that fateful day?

         “You didn’t steal anything. Not my future, not my desire to help others… There was no way you could have known what fate had in store,”

    Her words are gentle and cautious, like the steps she takes closer to the grieving professor. There is no mind to place her hand upon his shoulder in a reassuring manner, or anything of the sort, but to simply express comfort in being near. That Serena is neither repulsed by nor upset with the man, and stands ready to discuss a topic that both ought to have had a while ago. A mug of tea, freshly made at his request, places itself atop a mahogany desk, and with an expression both calm but sympathetic, she continues to explain herself.

         “If anything… I’d say you gave my life purpose when it had all crumbled away. When I was moved here, I… I did not know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to recover what I had lost.”

    And there it is—the ghost of a smile. Her usual sort, subdued but reassuring, and hidden behind layers of thoughts and emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

         “—But you did. You sent me on my journey, gave me something to focus on other than mourning what I thought was the loss of a lifetime’s amount of work. And… eventually, it renewed my resolve—my motivation to pursue the right path for me and my dreams.”

    Has he seen the billboards, Serena wonders? Has the professor seen the snippets of her dancing on stage, having restored and gone well beyond the career the young woman thought she had lost? Perhaps, the blonde thinks, she ought to buy him a ticket to a performance some time, and let him see with his own eyes that she speaks the truth—that her success, her drive, why it is all thanks to the help he provided, even in ways the man might have been unaware of.

         “You helped me to realise that instead of sitting around and saying that I wish something would happen… I should be the one to simply just… do it. Make my wishes into reality. And for that, I can never thank you enough.”

[iruludavare]

@hikaruotanashi​ || Continued from X

     Oh. Oh no. And now he believes she has not made any progress, when such an assumption could not be further from the truth. Excellent, spectacular. There is surely no other way Serena could make this situation any worse.

          “N-No, it’s not that. I have made progress. It’s just...”

     The words die at the tip of the young woman’s tongue, uncomfortable as she attempts to think of some way to leave the situation. To retreat from something so very distressing and instead somewhere familiar and calm-- where meetings such as this could not sneak up on her out of the blue. Hands fiddle, releasing the pokedex from her grip so it might fall back into her bag in a subtle manner. Think-- think. There must be some way to excuse herself.

          “...I think I need to be somewhere. With someone. I’ll... email you about it instead. And send you the files,”

     A pause.

          “I’m sorry.”

[iruludavare]

"How is your Pokedex coming along?"

@hikaruotanashi

     A jolt shoots through the heroine’s spine, form flinching and shoulders moving upwards when the professor’s voice hits her ears. A feeling of slight dread is next to form-- of helplessness; of not having prepared herself to face such a question on this day. Giving updates on her progress, why never has Serena been the sort to enjoy them being spontaneous and without warning. Ever the cautious sort, who likes to have her cards in order, for Sycamore to approach her so casually and out of the blue, why it does nothing but make Serena nervous.

          “O-Oh, professor! You startled me,”

     What if, she thinks, her progress has not been good enough? Not the sort of information he is looking for? Lacklustre in any other regard? And what then, if the man starts to wonder whether or not she was worthy of having ever been given a pokemon in the first place? That his faith in her was misguided?

          “It’s... It’s coming along well. I’ve documented some behaviours of different species I saw away from towns and cities. And--”

     She pauses, hastily uttered words stopping in a manner equally as abrupt.

          “--... well, maybe it would be best to show you, instead of trying to explain it all...”

[iruludavare]

@llightofruin​ || Pokemon baby photos

          “You know, when Daphne was little, she used to love dressing up in outfits. Even if they weren’t, well... built to withstand the sheer speed of a Fennekin determined on surpassing the speed of light...”

     Goodness knows that those tiny fox pokemon could be completely relaxed one second, then frantically running around and leaping off of furniture the next. Between the screams and squeaks and endless energy, it is no secret that such a line of pokemon can be quite difficult raise, requiring so much careful attention and patience. Still, the heroine’s focus shifts from the screen of her Holo Caster, to the professor, and back down to the device once more, scrolling through a gallery of photos. And within seconds, it appears as though Serena has found something to show him, judging by the way the young woman places it atop the table, and turns the screen so that Sycamore could see.

          “How adorable is she? I think it is a look that would suit her, and be just as cute, even now. Don’t you agree, Daphne?”

     A glance over her shoulder-- one that is met with the mortified look of the pokemon in question, who has long stood as a Delphox. She would not mind adorning such things-- not around Serena, whom the fire-type views like a mother--, for Daphne does allow the blonde to bestow upon her an accessory or two before entering the Battle Chateau, but putting the idea in his mind, too? Out of the question. No, she has grown up. Matured. No longer that highly animated, naïve pokemon.

     And so the fire-type breaks her silence, words spoken through the mind to both the professor and his student, but still so firm.

          ‘No. Immediately no. Absolutely not,’