Elliot
They/Them
19
April 12th
Lavaridge Town
Pansexual
Ranger-Coordinator
Cadet
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El Sunderland
Lost Woods [Mission/Gracidea]
POSTED ON Jun 2, 2023 3:10:25 GMT
El didn't respond to 'Lisa's words; they found themself agreeing with Bibidi's urging and Heidrun's unease. So, they initially had every intention of leaving atop the Gogoat's back. Perhaps they could enter this place from a different direction - avoid this strange woman, and find some clues elsewhere? That, or maybe leave completely, and find someone else to accompany them and back them up...
... But before Heidrun could so much as take her first steps away, Lisa had approached.
And all it took was the softest brush of her hand against El's own, for the young ranger to drift off into another world completely. From an outside perspective, El froze - their eyes glazing over, as if in a trance.
Neither Bibidi nor Heidrun appreciated whatever it was that Lisa had done - simply knowing that something was wrong. The Gogoat let out a frightened bleat, making to gallop away from the woman (with El in tow,) and the Alakazam attempted to push her away from the three of them with psychic energy.
But El wasn't cognizant of it. Instead, they had been swept up in a sudden surge of emotions, thoughts, memories... It was unbidden, and yet theirs all the same - their grip on Heidrun's horns subconsciously tightening with tension at the thoughts that came to their forefront. . .
. . . It was hard to say exactly where those first feelings of true resentment began. It wasn't an emotion that El felt easily - really, anything adjacent to anger or hatred sometimes felt foreign for how rarely it'd ever raise its ugly head for them. At best, they became frustrated. At best, they became upset. But it was rare that they ever got to the point of wanting to curl their hand into a fist, of wanting to furrow their brows, of wanting to raise their voice and yell.
Of course, that wasn't to say that El was incapable of feeling things like anger or hate. But, with how ugly and hurtful of an emotion it could be, they didn't like to acknowledge or dwell on it. Each time that it sprouted up like the weed that it was, they attempted to get rid of it.
They uprooted it.
They cut it.
They burnt it.
They stomped it down, down, down - down into the deep where they could forget about it, where it wouldn't bother them as they resumed going about their day. And usually, that was enough. They'd starve the fire that wanted to light up in their chest - and once they had a cooler head, they could sort out what was left behind.
But for all the effort that El put into smiling for others, there were those rare few weeds that kept regrowing. Those rare few flames that kept smoldering, waiting for kindling.
And for as much as they usually refused to acknowledge it, well... The biggest issue came in the form of a certain man they called their father.
Terrence Sunderland was an ambitious man with high hopes for the future, an unerring drive to see things get done, and a keen eye for even the littlest detail.
Terrence Sunderland was a high strung man with an obsession for fame, a difficulty in accepting 'no', and a need for perfection - for everything to be just right.
He had tried to become a gym leader, once upon a time - and made a rather honest attempt, all things considered. But when said endeavors did not work out, and he ended up in an office job with a wife and children instead, well... Even if he couldn't chase those dreams anymore - he could easily push it onto his children.
Particularly, golden child El.
A shame then, that they wanted none of it - neither the pedestal that they had been put on, nor the dreams that their father wanted to see them fulfill. Especially not when it came at the expense of those they loved - namely, that of Isaac Merlo . But regardless of how they felt, they lacked the courage to actually speak it.
Perhaps that's where the resentment began, then. Perhaps if things had been limited just to the occasional lesson in pokemon battles - even if it involved being dragged along to watch two pokemon fight, wincing and grimacing with empathy at every landed strike - it would've been okay. They would've been able to view it the same way one does when being dragged along on boring errands, even if this was less boring and more stressful. They loved their father back then, after all.
But to spend evenings pretending that they didn't hear the snide remarks, scolding, and rare arguments between their father and Isaac... To grow up knowing they're teetering on a pristine pedestal - a poisoned chalice - and fearing what might happen if they were to say that they wanted off... It wore on one's heart after a while, especially with the pressure on their shoulders, didn't it?
Especially when it reached the point of waking up one day, to see that neither Isaac - nor Kiryu - were home anymore. And in Isaac's absence - where he had once acted as a distraction and escape for them - the pressure of these unwanted expectations grew heavier.
Though with that being said... There were lingering feelings over Isaac leaving, too. A vague, distant, selfishness - a desire for that feeling of a whole family, denied by his absence. Why couldn't he stay, that selfish part of their mind asked? Or, why couldn't they have gone with him, instead?
But, they didn't tend to dwell on it - nowadays, it was a feeling that faded in lieu of their feelings towards their father. "Well, he said it best." They remembered the Isaac on the screen saying, when they had played his route during the hey-day of that strange otome game. "'If you get my son hurt again . . .' "
... Safe to say, even if the otome didn't prove to be accurate... It put things into perspective - and only served to reinforce those feelings of resentment that grew, deep down.
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"My, don't you seem distressed."[break][break]
