it's as they enter the restaurant that a hush seems to fall over the already-quiet establishment, its patrons' conversations falling off unexpectedly & even the sound of silverware scraping into porcelain dishes halting. ( jeez... ) the ice specialist does their best to shake off their observations, part of them somewhat exasperated with the level of response their presence received. this was larry's town; surely they were accustomed to a gym leader?! a small bow of head offers greeting to the hostess, who's quick to indicate where the one they (hopefully hadn't kept waiting long) sat.
grusha approaches the booth kai had selected, and drawing up alongside it, offers a likewise bow to their former trainer. "hey," they take a seat, subtle motion hooking a hand beneath their right knee as they use their left foot to push themselves toward the table's center, assisted by the same hand & forearm against the wood. once settled, they unwind the light blue scarf from around their neck & face, folding it neatly beside them. hands rest upon the table courtesy of forearm's balance on the perimeter, and fingers are able to interlink through black leather gloves.
"its, uh, been a few months... ?" they're pretty sure it hadn't hit 'several' yet, anyway. "how're you doing?"
[ grusha?! what're you doing here? it's really late - ]
the shocked confusion had been met with a one-shouldered, even dismissive shrug, "my gym, my key." the trainer had fallen silent, as though humbled by the reminder -- and grusha's demeanor seems to soften slightly in response, a slow inhale melting the ice they'd greeted the younger employee with. "sorry... hope today went okay. can you gather everyone up? i want to talk to you all."
they'd taken a seat to wait.
the sound of the east quad's door closing prompts the leader to swallow their nerves, a sense of dread ripping through their diaphragm & making the feeling of air taken into lungs like that of icewater. they feel tension wire their muscles like coils twisted 'round each other so tightly the fibers begin to push through their allotted seams, no longer smooth & instead bunched / messy / imperfect. lips part behind the scarf covering their face to allow a quiet exhale as footsteps approach, and quiet murmurings of their gym trainers becomes the ambiance over the common area. grusha's gaze shifts from where it had rested upon the ground to the half-open pizza boxes they assume to be evidence of their trainers' choice of dinner for that night... it's enough that all are able to be drawn within grusha's sightline, periphery or more direct.
they don't speak just yet, and instead only begin by looking over each of their trainers in-turn once the hushed murmurs faded & the trainers grew still. four had elected to sit on the couches opposite the armchair grusha had rested in, one sat on the floor / elbow propped on the edge of the center table, and one - kai - remained standing behind the couches. their eyes linger upon kai's own a heartbeat longer than they had all others & the wound inflicted darkens aqua-amber heterochrome to that of the seawater-honey.
it's as their gaze pulls away that grusha's eyes close & they allow themselves a long, steadying inhale. they feel their heart beginning to accelerate.
"i... am not good with sugar-coating things," paldean leaves their tongue in a tone equal to the straightforward manner of statement's delivery, "so i will own my behavior for the past month and a half outright: i've been a pretty sh -- ..." ( damn it, ) "... sh...itty excuse for a boss, in terms of interacting with you all." the curse burns their tongue, and they glance downward toward the pizza boxes once more. they didn't miss the hushed gasps from two of the trainers, nor the fist clenched of another. they force themselves to look up again / finding a central point among their trainers to best 'look at' them all, simultaneously. "i do my best to keep my professional life separated from my personal life. you know me as grusha, glaseado's gym leader; i've always tried to make sure that's it. 'cause that's all that's needed for us to do our best jobs." a small shrug's given, "but these past six weeks, you've seen more of grusha, the former snowboarder."
silence meets the statement.
they can't tell if it's confusion, or an urge for greater explanation.
"i'm sure you've noticed my mood has been... uh," a hand lifts, fist curling against their forehead as they think of an apt descriptor --
[ fucking terrible? ]
"language --" the chide comes quickly, and as they see past their hand, grusha realizes there's smirks meeting them. had getting that from them been on purpose...? "-- but. yeah. basically." their hand falls, and their posture shifts: they lean forward, left elbow against their knee as fingers push back through their bangs & eyes are cast downward. their right hand sits overtop jeans which fall against their socket. fingers clench slightly & they desperately cling to what little nerve that brought them here remains, hopes that it doesn't fade like the rest. "um. reason for that..."
they're starting to feel lightheaded.
they draw a slow breath - six seconds in - and release it just as slow after holding.
"you know by now i became a gym leader after i was in an accident, 'cause it..." they're grateful for the scarf, hiding the purse of lips as anxiety begins to gnaw at their resolution, "... it left me disabled. couldn't board anymore by a long shot." lips are drawn inward, and they bite sharply against their upper. their hands feel cold & as though they're starting to go numb. their right moves, sliding against their socket 'til the end's reached, and the palm of their hand lays against the side of their knee's hinge. their fingers clench as their eyes tell them that the true shape of the joint is visible -- that which wouldn't be accomplished by flesh-and-blood. they can see their hand shaking from here. "th... i --" the lightheadedness persists, and grusha swears the oxygen they're breathing isn't reaching their brain. clenching fingers finally shift, curling into the baggy denim as a fist. their hand moves, taking in more denim before they finally pull sharply enough to hoist the hem of their jeans out of their boot & above the nylon gaiter to keep snow out.
their eyes close, tight, and grusha's chin lowers toward their chest / lets the scarf ride up the front of their face, while the heel of the palm which remained planted against their forehead sees its fingers clench through silken hair against their scalp. shame.
for the truth, yes.
but also for the lie they'd kept up so long.
the first instance of 'the public' learning, seeing... that's what it is.
no matter that the setting is private.
no matter that these were people they'd hand-selected.
their secret, at last, was no longer... even in the smallest way.
they can feel their hand shake as their wrist rotates, taking up straggling denim from their grip in their pinky, and letting trembling fingers curve over the upper portion of their shin / just below their knee. they took the pants no higher. when grusha exhales, it's audible & shakes like a willow's vines in the wind -- they can't bear to look at their trainers, for they fear what they'd see in their faces. so they just talk.
"my accident... did this..." inhale. exhale. "s-six weeks ago, i fell comin' to work. that day you got a text, like, mid-morning saying i'd be out for a couple days? long story short: the prosthetic i'd had was irreparable, needed a new one." talking makes it slightly easier. they don't feel their body wavering, anymore, as the world around them spun. still it moved, but at the very least they were no longer mere seconds from everything around them going dark. "whole process and all the parts... takes about that long. had a temp in that time; low quality and generic, ill-fitting. knee wouldn't bend on its own -" they finally release their jeans, letting the denim fall before stuffing the excess back into their boot "- that's..." they swallow, and allow the hurt they've held onto since kai's statement to come through as a knife only one person could perceive, "... why i walk weird," it kills them to say it & it shows, "and recently was walking weirder than normal."
there's a quiet stir among the trainers.
the leader doesn't bother to try & deduce its reason.
they take a breath, and finally - almost mechanically - draw their hand down from where it had existed as a barrier in addition to their scarf. slowly, rigidly, grusha at last lowers the limb to rest atop their thigh, and their right hand's quick to grasp the left & gently squeeze its opposite. there's pain from misshapen digits, yes, but moreso there's the ability to move their thumb against their skin in self-soothing.
" 'grusha, the former snowboarder'... living without boarding has been one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. learning how to do everything with a prosthetic leg is up there, too. but not having a leg to call 'mine' for the last six weeks? that sucked, and it made my mood straight up rotten 'cause of how it impacted my daily life. it's 'cause of that my mood was... ... ... what you said."
sounds of amusement are enough to prompt the leader's gaze upward, and three trainers have hands lifted to their mouths / eyes averted. it's as though they didn't think laughing at their leader's refusal to swear was appropriate. strangely, that brings grusha some much-needed ease. swallowing, heterochrome's able to take in all of their trainers at last -- and they find no faces worth fearing -- before they speak. "i... am telling you all this 'cause you didn't deserve how much of an awful person to interact with i had been, especially as your boss." they slowly allow themselves to sit back, and though they don't relax, they feel they're able to breathe & that oxygen finally begins to make it to their brain once more. "i was pissed, among other things, and was taking it out on you guys. and there was no way for me to really explain why i was behaving that way without..." their eyes lower to their right leg, "... telling you the truth."
just as quickly as they'd thought they found some kind of relief, they begin to feel strangled once more.
"i just ask that... you honor the fact i've done everything in my power to keep this a secret for the last six years. it would mean the world to me, honestly --" they force themselves to look up, and let their eyes linger on each trainer for several (rapid) heartbeats individually, "-- if the truth never left this room. even in digital format. you know i'm not on social media anymore, so it's not like i'll go hunting for it. but..."
( i'm trusting you with this. )
( i don't know what i'd do if it did get out. )
"maybe i'll feel ready for the world to know, in my own time. but 'til then... uh..." they glance downward, "... i'd get on my knees to beg but that's... a way harder task for me than it is you." a weak puff of amusement leaves them, and their eyes return to their trainers. the same three had returned their hands overtop their mouths. "you're allowed to laugh at that... that was a joke. from me. true, but... a joke still."
throat's cleared, and grusha uses the opportunity of not feeling as though they'd fall over if they move to do so: they push themselves to stand -- and when a trainer moves quickly, too, with a hand extended, grusha's own flies sharply in front of their face as refusal. they'd stopped it from being a wave of outright rejection.
the something-close-to-ease which had come to exist in those last few shared moments is now fractured by tense stillness. grusha swallows, and slowly straightens as they had been. "please," they lower their hand, but their eyes remain fallen to the seat on the couch the trainer had come from, "don't treat me any different than you have been. my leg -- it's been gone for six years, not the six minutes since i showed you." it takes a push, but they're able to let their gaze meet the trainer's...
( he's... just trying to help. ) they talk themselves down from the initial wave of offense, and their posture begins to relax as they let their arms fall easily by their sides. "but... i also showed you all 'cause i got a new leg. it's got better technology than the other one so..." they shrug, and look to the rest of the trainers, "... hopefully, i'll be doing better in multiple ways. including as your boss." it's only after they step out from the 'gathering' space they'd sat at the head of that grusha pauses -- after a moment's thought, they turn & let their head lower in a small bow of gratitude.
... and when beartic arrives back at the house, he lets out a distinct grunt at the porch / into the window that shows silver sitting within. it was a noise that said something to the effect of, "come get grusha."
what do grusha's gym trainers say to challengers about grusha if they beat said trainer(s) to make it to them? what do they say if they defeat the challenger in the process?
[no slope] in this drabble i indicated grusha had six gym trainers at the time of writing. even though kai (@heavenbled) departed since, they're going to be included as a treatᵀᴹ.
in that drabble i also alluded to the personalities (sort of) of their gym trainers, so they'll be labeled by their basic identifiers for this...
as a general reminder of grusha's gym policy: not only do challengers have to participate in the downhill time-trial featured in-game, but they also have to challenge two trainers. it can be any two trainers, and in any order.
trainer #1 -- fairly young(~20), newest; jumps at a chance to help & currently thinks of grusha as "the boss i can't fuck up around" while also very distinctly putting grusha on some type of a pedestal Very Much Apart from them for the same reason (which is why they were so surprised to see grusha after-hours)
upon defeating the challenger: when you're on thin ice, safety is in speed.
upon being defeated: chill out... don't burn yourself down yet. you still have to face grusha.
trainer #2 & #3 -- twins (mid-twenties), been there about 6 months and very much grusha's (sometimes unwanted) dose of frick and frack. they're the ones who always try to lighten the mood, make jokes, but also have undeniable synergy. they are, amazingly, most conscious of grusha's disposition+mood and for that reason try to time and articulate their humor carefully so it can be received well and as-intended by their gym leader. they are challenged together (counting for the two trainers) in a double battle.
upon defeating the challenger (#2): well, your heart was definitely on fire...
upon defeating the challenger (#3): ... but i think your brain was on ice.
upon being defeated (#2): take that strategy to the top...
upon being defeated (#3): ... 'cause you'll need it for our leader.
trainer #4 -- mid-life questioning (mid/late thirties), been there 2 years. although initially applying for the position as an interlude while they figured out what they wanted to do with their life, this trainer has found they enjoy the daily rituals required by keeping the gym up & running and its pokemon cared for. the office-worker life burned them out fairly early on, but they're beginning to find themselves once more. they're typically quieter than others, and exerts responsibility in the form of divvying up the chores for the living area among all current trainers -- arguably a bit more of a soloist among the trainers than a team player, but has no issue working with others. they're also trusted by glalie.
upon defeating the challenger: to appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it is necessary to stand out in the cold.
upon being defeated: well, look at that... you're a full-fledged snowflake, aren't you?
trainer #5 -- serious & dedicated (mid-twenties), approaching 1 year tenure. so tired of #2 and #3 on principle, but also the one to laugh at the same things they do. she's not afraid of being admonished, so she'll typically speak up and give voice to what many are collectively thinking. she'll also volunteer first for a less-than-glamorous task and (lowkey) talk shit for nobody else stepping up to the plate. she's most interested in research regarding ice-types and the continuous development of facilities appropriate for housing them.
upon defeating the challenger: slow down a little and enjoy the snow; winter forms our character and brings out our best.
upon being defeated: i still have some growing to do...
kai -- the first gym trainer grusha ever hired, having accumulated a 4 year tenure before leaving to continue with their own path in life.
upon defeating the challenger: get better soon, sweetie. you need to learn a thing or two before you come back here.
upon being defeated: don't celebrate yet; in fact, you probably shouldn't celebrate at all. good luck.
💭 hit me... one for pokeverse kai, and one for fantasy verse nighthawk
ft. kai
"i, um..." a hand lifts to the top of their head, mitten stroking across silken hair pulled back into its bun thoughtlessly / likely doing more harm than good. "i... kinda can't believe the extent of their tenure is up. partially just in general, partially 'cause i can't believe i've been a gym leader that long..."
"... well. mmh --" they'd had their ups and downs, but even so, "-- they'll leave big shoes to fill. i hope they found their years here beneficial, and that what they're moving into long-term brings them fulfillment."
ft. nighthawk (fantasy)
"i owe everything to her... to both of them."
"i just want to make her proud, i think. i don't know if that means staying my course, or more properly mingling with humans, but... we both know it's safest if i stay at arm's length. she's bent over backward to make sure i don't get hunted by her 'coworkers' on-sight, and i wouldn't risk that for the world."
the words that silver had left kaifeng with were plenty for him to realize just how much he had actually screwed the pooch in this situation, how much damage he had inflicted without realizing properly. so ... walking up to grusha feels like walking on sharp and pointed-up icicles, hands decorated in gloves ungraciously picking at nails underneath fabric at both of his sides. ( gods how much he hated feeling like his stomach had been lodged in to his throat. )
" grusha? can i talk to you? "
though he hears the steps approach, grusha doesn't look up / the quiet scraping of harsh-wire bristles against the sandslash's claws resumes as the gym leader rotates the mouse pokemon's paw to get better view of the built-up grime after a month's use. it's been made abundantly obvious grusha's in no mood to entertain any of his trainers today (nor have they been for the past couple weeks), and as a result there's been an unspoken agreement among gym trainers to avoid bothering their supervisor at all costs -- something grusha feels guilt for, but ultimately appreciates.
-- so the initial election to not even look at their trainer does not so much speak volumes, as it does underscore the fact they're in no mindset to entertain the whims of adults who know their duties inside and out by now. but with the insertion of a voice to the equation, grusha pauses.
the sandslash's ears twitch as he looks up at the arrival, and grusha inhales before glancing over in proper acknowledgement. brows creep a millimeter closer to one another as they properly look upon the trainer, but one would be hard pressed to prove as much.
the painful sting from three days prior is not gone, and certainly not forgotten. thus, after blinking in a manner which conveys acceptance of both his trainer's presence & insistence on conversation, grusha looks back to the sandslash's paw. he dips the wire-bristle toothbrush in the bucket between them before he pushes it betwixt digits to scrape off baking soda & the grime beneath it.
"you already are," words are murmured into the scarf which thankfully covers the lower portion of their face / the displeasure of their expression is largely obscured rather than made obvious. "what is it? glalie not eating?"
" if anyone asks, kosmo and i are going for a walk. even if in reality i'm going to be trying to find some kind of outfit for him for the holidays. speaking of which, you don't happen to know the pet stores in the vicinity? you know... ones that provide outfits large enough for a space wolf? "
[ shiro to pidge! <3 ]
𝑼𝑵𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑫 ➙ always accepting!
EVERY SINGLE YEAR her parents made the family dress up for Christmas cards, donning ugly sweaters and all. It's torturous. This year will be no different. At least shopping for Bae Bae is somewhat entertaining, and she can imagine the hilarity of finding outfits for Kosmo. Pulling out her phone, Pidge is already sending the address to Shiro. ❝ ... There's one about a half hour from my house. They sell ones for really big dogs, but no promises anything will fit him. Send me pictures when you manage get him in something. ❞
UNDER LOCK & KEY , EMOTIONS RAW ; breath was quiet as hues travel to the other pilot once again. words spoken earlier while trying to rescue & then succeeding still burned heavy on tongue. it was the truth, nothing but the purest and simplest way to put hearts desires into spoken form. he didn't know if shiro remembered anything a clone experienced. keith didn't know how to ask afraid he did remember it all & did not approve of what's been happening. of the confession in most dire moment. keith had been ready to die then and there. ( fall together. ) united in their last moment and never let go of shiro. just as he had promised.
he'd never give up & always find him. that was a given, a natural thing to the raven. ( it felt right. ) releasing another silent but strained breath raven haired has been holding, keith sat back. eyes traveled to the ceiling. shiro was still resting. he didn't dare to disturb him in the slightest, careful not to make a noise & simply bask in the presence of the man he'd follow to the ends of every universe.
❛ oh shiro . . . ❜ 'twas more a soft exhale, than spoken; hands fidgeting in keiths lap. the chair was getting uncomfortable but he'd wait until the now white haired had recovered enough to wake up & mayhaps eat.
