littleroot is really a nice place. thomas wishes that he could live here or someplace similar. or, well, maybe in the past he did. before the mind wipe. sometimes he refers to it as his "past life", sometimes "before", or "a long time ago". no matter how many times he talks about it though, nothing ever really comes that tells him that he is possibly right or possibly wrong. nothing clues him any closer to the truth. he frowns as he sits on a dull blue bench; his cheeks resting on both of his palms, his elbows resting on his thighs.

banette is outside his ball today, sitting beside him with his ghostly appendages resting on his sides, touching the metal bench. it's people watching today, thomas muses, as he is staring at nothing in particular. as he sees a happy family pass by him, a sharp pain digs into his chest. jealousy, envy, but he can't miss something that he doesn't remember having. the young man lets out a long, drawn out sigh.

banette does not react. the ghost pokemon is actually mode idle than his trainer at times, but he follows him anyway, like a doll with an invisible chain. they wait for something, anything to happen.

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tags: none
notes: doing this right before rollover lmao