[attr="class","illie i"]memories can be a double edged sword sometimes. while they can be comforting and warm, they can also be unforgiving and cruel. which ones will she have first? the painful or the blissful? somehow, she has an inkling that in the weeks to come, she'll awake from nightmares of clay pieces chipping apart, screaming back into reality when the chance to rescue slips through her unconscious fingers.

"i don't think i can handle that, yet," she whispers and it's true. while she wants to believe that custos is still here, still held within shadows, it's too fresh. too new for her to consider entertaining.

his grip tightens in response and she's letting out a shaky breath she hadn't known she was holding. lips press into her hair, affectionate and warm. and yet, despite the way he holds her closer, nothing but loving and comforting, she still finds herself giving in to her fear. it latches into her skin, into the way she glances up at him. hundreds of possibilities keep her from accepting that she won't lose the ones she loves, that she won't end up losing him. "you don't know that."

[attr="class","illie i"]maybe it's the experiences with promises she has beneath her belt that force a slight laugh from her lips. bitter and almost sad, it echoes between them and she's wincing at the implication. but can one really blame her? promises are fickle things, always filled with some sort of heartbreak. they're made to be broken, made to be forgotten. her grip tightens on him until knuckles turn white and numb before unfurling.

"you shouldn't make promises you might not be able to keep," she mutters and as she glances at him, as fright solidifies in her eyes, she's aware of how ridiculous she really sounds. a sigh escapes, eyes fluttering shut. "i'm sorry. i just -- i don't want to lose another." she omits a specific part, one that is still understood regardless of not being breathed between them yet.

[attr="class","illie i"]visibly, she relaxes. hands ease up enough for a tight clutch of fabric to become a gentle hold, body melting into their shared contact. he understands, perhaps more than the average person. it always seems to escape her that loss has touched more than just her, has done more than just darkening her world. and when he reminds her of his experiences, she falls into a careful sort of silence as if he'll close back up if she speaks before he's finished.

her eyes drift up to find his and there's mixed feelings lingering in the expression she wears. empathy, sadness, curiosity. he's never fully divulged what happened to his father, not yet. perhaps in time he'll be able to talk about it but she doesn't feel any inclination to pry. his business, his past is his, not hers to pick apart.

and then his voice drops in volume, hushed tones barely escaping the confines of their makeshift bubble. sinnoh. why this region specifically? what's lurking in the shadows of their home that they need to exist another world away to be able to feel safe? her brows furrow at the thoughts and while she doesn't want to pick everything he says apart for clues and evidence, it's that innate curiosity that does her in. "why there?" she murmurs and there's a pause, a hesitation, before her voice continues. it matches his in secrecy, barely rising above a whisper. "why are they unable to be safe here?" as the question leaves her mouth, she realizes too late that she's prying but she has yet to figure out a way to take back words once they leave.

[attr="class","illie i"]connections in sinnoh, people that can be trusted... does he not have the same in hoenn? she stays quiet, tucking the information away in case it comes back again. for now, she doesn't question it, doesn't offer nothing more than her undivided attention. her hold on him tightens slightly in response to what comes next, to the implications it can apply. weaknesses are always inevitable but to have them exploited by an outside force almost seems expected. people that hold power have this way about them that makes them seem invincible... until they're hit where it hurts. and yet, it pains her to know that he is not exception to that rule.

i -- i'm sorry," she stumbles through the apology because emotion and fear root themselves in her. while she expected his father's demise to be something that's painful and upsetting, she didn't expect the actuality of it. the concept that those closest to him will perish is something he's unfortunately already been forced to accept. and again, her grip tightens, her voice dropping to a whisper, soft and reassuring. "there's no real way to know that time is running out," she murmurs. the idea brings little peace, however. "have these enemies been taken care of?" the real question she wants to ask is toed around, touched upon but not in such a way that satisfies her. did they pay? is what wants to fall from her mouth but it's a dark path to go down and she wants to avoid the darkness a little while longer.

death threats. the very thought leaves an odd taste in her mouth, not quite bitter and not nearly sour enough. she realizes the familiarity of the taste anyway as it's something she's come to grow accustomed to. dread, she decides. there's dread and it shouldn't be there. her body presses a little closer for comfort, although whether it's more for him or her or the topic at hand she can't be sure. "it's logical to take them to a place where enemies can't hurt them," she replies. out of reach, out of harm's way. a better solution than the painful alternative. "i hope they're safe now, happy..." she's at a loss for what to fully say now, as if understanding that those she views as strong and sturdy are plagued with the same insecurities she is. somehow, it brings little comfort and more sadness than she imagined. "i'm sorry, alex."

[attr="class","illie i"]implications lay laced between syllables, waiting until they're picked apart and analyzed. his statement is no different. from the way he offers nothing more than two words to the tone he uses. each implication is noticed, marked, filed for later. and somewhere between noticing and understanding, a thought rises. is it retribution or revenge? the line is thin, barely there differences keeping morals in check. a path that's dark versus a path of moral justice... she knows which she would choose but the same cannot be said for him. and so, she offers nothing more than a hum and the pressing of a cheek against a collarbone. there's no need to press, to question the intentions he has. there's only comfort and being there to relieve the ache in his chest.

"of course," she mumbles, voice half muffled by the skin of his clavicle. and when he draws her closer, when he squeezes her hand, she responds with a feathery kiss to skin before drawing back enough to look at him. a smile rises, soft and a little shaky but genuine. silence falls and settles as she tucks back into him. her head rests a little too easily on him and it could be so easy to fall asleep...

in fact, she almost does. his chuckle draws her out from the alluring beginnings of slumber and she blinks a few times before glancing up at him. the moment his words hit her ears, however, it's like cold water being splashed onto her body. "wait," she squeaks. apparently don't panic means definitely panic to illeana reyes. her eyes are wide as saucers, halfway between surprised and confused. "they do? since when?" silence takes hold of her for a beat, a pause, and then laughter follows. it's a giddy kind of laugh, the one that she can't contain no matter how hard she might try. "i'd love to meet them, too."

[attr="class","illie i"]the kiss pressed to the side of her head barely succeeds in lulling her into a state of half understanding. her lips quirk up into a smile for a moment before she's letting nerves get the best of her. he's come to know that she's filled to the brim with questions and really, he did just drop a little bit of a bomb on her.

"since then? really? wait," she has to pause to breathe instead of rapidly firing off questions like the speed round in a quiz show. "she knows about that? how much have you been saying?" an eyebrow rises as if she's expecting him to give her a full report. and part of her feels bad for asking so much, for prying into their conversations, but he deserves it.

especially after dropping that last piece of information and then letting it linger in the air instead of

her fingers shift to pinch at his shoulder, lips moving into a pout. "hey, rude! don't laugh!" and yet, she laughs with him, panic easing away at the sound of his chuckle. "i'm glad she was impressed," she sighs, a small fraction of high expectations falling away from her shoulders. while it's not the expectations she wants to exceed, it somehow feels better, as if the approval of a parent is enough even if it's not her own. her face wants to falter but the pout stays rooted in place, even if her lips want to shift into a frown. "i hope so." she doesn't want to say that it's in better hands with others but the thought still crosses her mind. it even lingers, settling right beside the notion that she needs to be stronger in order to make that sentiment correct.

[attr="class","illie i"]the pout only deepens with the sound of laughter but it wobbles. it gives away the concept that she's struggling to keep it in place. and perhaps that's why it cracks a moment later, dissolving into a soft smile and an airy giggle. it's difficult to even fake being mad at him sometimes.

it's easy, however, to pinch a little harder with the next comment, the next dramatic pause. really, he's asking for it now.

"hey!" her cheeks are flushed a soft pink by now. "you could have stopped me. instead, you encouraged me so it's your fault we had cake for a week." how could anyone deny her cake for dinner, however, when she reacts to sweets the way a child does a dog. it settles a moment later that he was surprised she made a good impression and the flush deepens, embarrassment shifting further into her skin. "wait, no, that's definitely rude now! you were surprised i made a good impression? i'm offended."

her fingers slowly release his skin, easing away as he offers an explanation. and as if to make up for it, she presses a light kiss to skin.

an evolution researcher... there's a sparkle in her eye that isn't just because of bright ass florescent lights. it's one thing to be one herself but to know of another and to be informed that they think her own work is impressive? there's nothing quite like it and it shows. she leans a little closer, lips widening until an excited grin makes the muscles of her cheeks ache beneath the pressure. "she was a researcher too? focused on evolution, no less?" one minute she's a pouting toddler and the next, a child in a candy store. "what kind of opinions did she have? oooh, i'd love to pick her brain about picking another research topic." the next pause has her quieting, stilling as her head tilts slightly to the side. it's not as drawn out as the others, not nearly as dramatic. and yet, it holds more weight than those before it.

both. it's odd enough for her to recognize that someone actually believes in her but to add another to the list? she's not used to it if she's being honest. how does one even react to such a thing? and could they teach her? "really?" she murmurs and it's a little softer than before, a little more hesitant. the weight of failure creates cracks in the bones of her shoulders with each mistake she's made and yet, they believe anyway. "why?" and maybe she just wants to understand it, to see it from his point of view... but she knows it's because she's prepared to refute all of his claims beneath the pretense that in order to be useful, she has to be strong, capable, everything that's been expected of her since the beginning.