the first time mother catches you in a lie, she wraps a wooden spoon across your knuckles. you are five, and she's told you several times not to climb the desk to get writing materials from the top shelves. you don't listen, and the self collapses. you're lucky to get away with a few bumps and scrapes.
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mother tells you that those will be accurate reminders to tell the truth and have patience to wait until someone can help you get what you need.

the first time you cook your own eggs on the stove, you show your mother proudly. she pats your head and smiles, because you are ten, and it brings tears to her eyes that you're her little ms. independent. you beam because even though they taste awful, they can only get better from there.

you're assigned schoolyard duty one morning. making sure that everyone's uniforms are tucked in properly, and assuring students that they need to be more proactive when it comes to looking presentable.
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one of your friends thinks it's funny to hang his tie out of his pants and wiggle it at girls. you don't quite get the joke, but you wrinkle your nose and tell on him because he's being rude to the other students.
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your impartial attitude gets you a shining review for your next grade, and you're put on schoolyard duty more often. you get labeled an over-achiever. who cares? you're just being fair and treating everyone the same.

you have an opportunity to publish an risque expose in your high school newspaper. it involves a multitude of students, and will most likely ruin a couple of last-year lives. as your finger hovers over the send button, you draw back. ctrl + a. you delete it.
[break][break]
you're a journalist, not a monster.
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you console the people involved when someone else breaks the story, glad that you're not the cause.

you find out that your father is still alive. that you have a half-family. that literally everything you've ever believed in about your lineage is nearly wrong in it's entirety. your mother cries as you pack your things, taking a job in hoenn. you cry as you say your goodbyes.
[break][break]
but someone needs to know you exist.
[break][break]
someone needs to be held accountable for their actions.

- galar native[break]
- half-sister to florian laurel[break]
- part-time coordinator[break]
- journalism intern[break]
- (glorified coffee-bringer)[break]
- looking for her lineage, and her father