[attr="class","text"]
The doctor’s lips pressed together in disbelief. She watches as he walks away. What’s he doing? Did I offend him somehow? Up went a brow. “Why would I be alarmed?” Aubre doubted he was going to perform open heart surgery.
[break][break]

Any questions disappear when he draws the knife. “O-oh.” Her throat is suddenly dry. A hand reaches up to her neck where a similar weapon once rested. It’d come courtesy of her husband’s cousin—a firebrand jealous that some brat was taking over the family.

[break][break]

Telling her not to be alarmed is useless. It just makes her worry more. But it’s not like telling her to panic would be any better, would it? He’s a doctor, Aubre. Just like you. Which wasn’t that reassuring.
[break][break]


Violence isn’t exactly her forte, and it’d not be a stretch to say she won’t even look at her husband’s guns, though he had asked her to learn how to handle them.
[break][break]


Her hands wrung in her lap. She isn’t sure why his title means he has to pull that thing out in public. “Right.”

[break][break]

The question draws a moment of thought. She counts months under her breath. When they’d moved here, Mikky had only been a baby. The region’s war had been in a temporary lull. “Almost three years." In that time, her daughter had gone from crib-bound to walking and talking. Had it really been that long?
[break][break]


She nods. “I have.” There’s a soft smile on her face. Perhaps a hint of flush. “I've run into Eva once or twice.” Who, even after knowing her identity, seemed like a real person.“But I never saw her patron.”

NOTES

✦ Let's see how her hope goes

[attr="class","text"]
The redhead laughs, but it’s stilted and awkward. “Not too much, no.” An apology bubbles to her lips but different words come out. “I have a three-year-old.” She read what her phone pushed her way. And was happy to research things that applied to her. But out in the country—away from the war—the avatar news rarely affect her day-to-day existence.

[break][break]
A privileged fact that the doctor—determined to take up everyone’s burden—felt guilty for.
[break][break]


She knows Rayquaza’s lack of presence makes sense. It is a being made to cruise through space. It wouldn’t exactly fit in at any of their meeting places. Nor was it sized to fit comfortable in a residence. “I don’t think they would pass weight restrictions, no.”
[break][break]


At his next words, Aubre nods. Green eyes drop worriedly to the knife.She had heard of an avatar with his name once, but there were so many people named John that it seemed silly to assume. “!?” A startled gasp tore from her throat as his palms lit up red. “Arceus!”
[break][break]


Aubre stood. Her initial instinct was to help. Her hand grabbed for a doctor’s bag that wasn’t there. But, just as quickly as it’d opened, the wound closed. Half standing, the veterinarian just stared at the wound. “I—I see.” She managed to sputter after she’d calmed. My problems aren’t as clean as that knife cut.

[break][break]

Eager to be acknowledged, the scars hiss with a demonic violin strum of pain. She can imagine the scent of burnt flesh and the acrid, toxic scent of Houndoom flames.
[break][break]

Doctors told her it’d take an Act of God to heal the damage that’d been done. To stop the pain that keeps her up at night. And, now, in this mad place, she’d seen one.

[break][break]

Though there is a hunger in her eyes, it’s stymied by nerves. She’s heard of avatars gone mad with power. Tales of their curses and problems. “And you think that your power can—” The tense ginger jumps as her phone goes off. Her lips press into a thin line as she clambers for it.

[break][break]

Aubre’s eyes turn to John’s—desperate and apologetic. She could just let it go. But then she’d spend this whole time focusing on the missed call instead of what mattered. “I’m sorry.” She lifts the phone to her ear but covers the microphone. “It’s my daughter’s babysitter.” Mikky didn’t spend much time apart from her parents, but there were times when both were indisposed. Like today.
[break][break]


If John thought she’d been alarmed earlier, he’d have a hard time describing what expression came next. “She—she did what!?” Her breath escaped in a clamor as she tried to figure out what words came next. “No, no! I’ll be right there. I’m so sorry, he’s not—no, no. I understand.”

[break][break]

A few nervous, Deerling-like steps carry her past the edge of the bench. She turns big eyes back to John. She smiles apologetically, the gesture somehow both relieved and desperate. “Duty calls.”
[break][break]


Her daughter came first. Everyone else came first. Always.

NOTES

✦ Let's see how her hope goes