[attr="class","minicharh"]

memory and sacrifice

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

here she is again, looking to the regal pokemon. she's unsure if this one is the one who took her scarf, although she'll assume, since she can't see it anywhere. [break][break]

she didn't expect to get it back. [break][break]

"i've returned, your majesty." she gives the pokemon a bow, and marisol has to admit, this sort of act is a little entertaining when you factor in the monotonous movements of each day. the pompous pokemon lets out a satisfied cro-crown! before a chuckle follows the woman's lips. "your topic are certainly interesting, your majesty, to be asking for a story of memory and sacrifice.." perhaps it was deliberate, because she can imagine that the pokemon has obtained so many special, interesting stories from the people. [break][break]

"i supposed i could tell a brief story of the monstress..?" she ponders, knowing that this is a story close to her heart, and yet one that she's forgotten since the memories have faded. still, all stories originate from somewhere. so, with a smile on her lips, she'll sit herself down with the king and speak her tale. [break][break]

"the monstress was doing her best," she starts, stifling a chuckle "from becoming more of a monster. she treated others, offered medicine, did so much learning to be able to help the people around her. those around her loved her, because she always went out of her way, helping people both good and bad. she wasn't great with people, but she always went out of her way to make sure that someone was healthy, or feeling okay." maybe that describes her well enough, but she'll insist that she only does what is necessary as a nurse. [break][break]

"to become a human, however, the monster had to sacrifice a lot. she had to sacrifice a part of herself, and sacrifice some of the friends who believed in her, for so, so long." marisol pauses, the memory and faces of those few passed cross her mind, then she shakes her head to push the images away. "the monster hated herself, knowing that's what it took. one day, as she's trying to help the people around her, she falls into what felt like a long, long slumber." what felt like ages, what made her feel disorientated and fatigued, and what still frustrates her when the constraints of amnesia block her from a dream once upon a time. [break][break]

"when the monster woke up, she was still the same, but something was missing." something important, something that she can't put her finger on, and something that gnaws at her mind. "when she woke up, she felt like something was missing, like there was a hole in her heart, and a hole in her mind. she couldn't understand, and couldn't figure out why she felt the way she did." there was the confusion that settled in, followed by the fruitless attempts to remember. "so, because she couldn't remember, she immediately fixated on the one thing she could remember; another monster." [break][break]

"she latched onto it, spiraled, and obsessed over it, knowing the rabbit hole she was beginning to spiral into." the woman hums, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh "... and because of that hole in her memory, she's starting to go down a dark path. she knows she is, and it scares her to a degree, but she's searching for anything to fill the void in her mind, and the emptiness of something that was once there." [break][break]

she ends the story, though it looked as though the king was not satisfied with the ending. it was evident with the tilt of his head, and the trainer can only chuckle. "i apologize, your majesty. the story is still being written." marisol sighs, however, and the better part of her prays that it ends soon. "thank you for listening this week. should you wish to hear another story in the future, i'll happily update you on the monster's ending."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]

[attr="class","minicharh"]

dreams and/or legacy

[attr="class","minicharentry"]

she thought they were lying. [break][break]

thought they were lying when they said there was an odd pokemon sitting at the tree, listening to stories like a delibird during christmas. lo and behold, marisol is wrong, and there is indeed an accursed creature at the tree, ready to take in the stories. oh, she remembers the creature well - she only barely remembers the dream that it put her in. she doesn't recall, much as she would like to, but she knows that something in her changed after she woke up. [break][break]

there was a longing for something. [break][break]

and she can't quite describe it. it's the itch she can't reach, and it frustrates her. it frustrates her. [break][break]

but what use is it ranting and venting to the pokemon? [break][break]

she looks at it, it looks back at her, but there's no recognition. no, rather marisol is tired when she's reminded. she'll take a deep breath, and sit herself down by the regal pokemon. "you wished for a story?" she asks, putting on a practiced smile, like it's a reflex. she, of course, bows to the royalty like the peasant she is.[break][break]

"there was a woman." she starts, eyes closed whilst hugging her knees closer to her chest. "she was beautiful, wonderful. incredibly smart, loving, and a prodigy. she used her talents to help others, and studied medicine." marisol only pauses, briefly, to chuckle "although, everyone said she worked too hard, and that she'd never find herself a partner at the rate she was going.." [break][break]

there's a brief pause, but marisol takes in the slightly chilly air, and reaches to take her scarf from her neck to place on the ground - something of an inviting blanket to the pokemon. it's up to them to take it, if it pleased. "she worked hard, and in the end was able to make a lot of money. she had a lot of money, a lot of friends, and a lot of what.. a lot of people thought was happiness." the breeze blows, sending ripples in the blades of fauna "she was happy in the moment, but when the lights were off and she was alone in the bed, she wasn't happy. she was lonely." she had everything, and was still lonely. [break][break]

"until she met someone she loved, who was a man who had the same goals as her." now she leans towards her knees, the smile warmer, but it never reaches what looked to be dead eyes. "he treated her well. he treated her family well. he treated children well. he was the doctor who worked in the hospital she was a pharmacy for, and they got along well. he was charming, whispering sweet nothings and tenderly holding hands in the night. when she was scared of thunder, he'd wrap her in a blanket. when the nights were too dark, or the winters were too cold, he'd share his warmth and be her light." she's speaking words, and she's rambling more than she should. there's a part of her thinking that she should have told this story like she did with the sick children in the hospital, but this is a tragedy, and not a romance.[break][break]

"those two prodigies have a child, and the woman is happy." she was the happiest she had ever been, "... she finally had happiness that could not be bought, and she loved her family very much." another pause, as marisol adjusts herself where she sits. yes, she tries to maintain eye contact with the pokemon, and she forces the smile - it's just starting to get harder to do. "the child is very smart, and she's growing well. the woman loves her daughter a lot, even though she's busy a lot of the time. even after a long day at work, her energy is restored when she gets to see her husband and daughter. everything was perfect." [break][break]

it was perfect. [break][break]

"until one day, the bubble is popped. she finds her daughter with red stained hands and streaks on her face. her daughter, happily, hugs onto the woman with those filthy hands. the woman is concerned, fretting, pushing the girl away to look for wounds. she finds nothing, and the reality dawns. she asks: "honey, why are you all read?" in a soft tone, trying to disguise the terror." marisol does her best to replicate the voice, though the quiver comes a bit too natural. [break][break]

"the child, with a smile on her face, claims that she was helping her father. the blood in her face drains, asking her daughter to go take a bath and wash it off. when she does, she marches to her husband in anger. when she reaches him, the kind, warm eyes that always looked at her with affection were gone; they were dead, and empty, and icy. they were devoid of the man--... no, the human she fell in love with."[break][break]

the next words are stuck in her throat, but she pushes through. [break][break]

"he was a monster." [break][break]

she was a monster. [break][break]

"so the woman took her daughter and ran away from the monster. the man she loved was eaten by the monster, who only wished for flesh, and blood, and bone. the woman took her daughter to so many doctors, and so many people to help her, but no one could help her because she forgot. the woman wanted to do everything to help her lovely daughter, and she still loved her." [break][break]

she still loved her. [break][break]

"the daughter looked like she was getting better, and the woman was happy enough. she was glad that her child was okay, and she wasn't scared, until she smelled something bad coming from her clo--"[break][break]

the words are caught in her throat for a moment, and her brows furrow in slight disdain at the memory. [break][break]

".. closet. there, she finds a small animal, dead, cut open and rotting. the woman covers her mouth and nose, and she's mortified. so she puts the animal in a bag, digs a hole in the backyard, and buries it. when the girl comes home, she's exhausted, and looks to the cheery girl who holds up a pretty picture she drew." [break][break]

she pauses, again, just so the story processes. [break][break]

"but what the woman saw at the door wasn't her precious daughter, so eager to make her mother happy, no." [break][break]

"what she saw was a monster." [break][break]

"a monster she couldn't save." [break][break]

uncomfortable silence befalls her, recounting the story. maybe telling it something so close to her wasn't such a good idea, after all. [break][break]

"the woman, who couldn't save the disease of a monster from eating the man she loved, or the daughter she adored, fell into despair. her story ended quickly, with hatred in her heart and a bottle on the table. what she leaves behind is hatred, confusion, and a monstress with the world as her oyster." it's painful when she recounts, but she masks it with a chuckle "and the story of the monstress is still being written." [break][break]

when she finally finishes, she takes in a deep breath to steady her mood. yes, she's okay. it's quite nice, she has to admit, being able to talk freely about her own story the way she has. "thank you, your majesty, for listening to this peasant's tale." her speech is flowery, perhaps, for someone who she can't even understand. "the scarf is a gift for your majesty. may you stay warm whilst gracing the rest of us humble subjects with an offered ear."

---

[attr="class","minicharf"]