Analytical Dynamics, for abarero
Title: analytical dynamics
Author: rhubarb_tart
Rating: pg-13
Verse: games [gen V]
Characters: n, hilda
Summary: “he missed her,” he says. for abarero.
Warnings: n/a
Note: I listened to this while I wrote; I think it fits the story well. ♥
She’s never left Unova.
She’s battled, battled for badges and titles and truth, battled for her pokémon and herself and the Pokédex, and she’s earned her place as Champion. She’s saved the world. She’s saved people and pokémon. She’s a hero.
She’s attracted to power.
(Yet she doesn’t mind when, years later, she relinquishes her title.)
☯
She moves to Lacunosa.
The residents don’t mind her presence. Quite the opposite, even; she’s their hope, their protection from the legend that haunts them. She’s never done anything to fuel this belief but she was a champion and a hero and her own legend is great.
They still refuse to leave their houses at night. She prefers the isolation, anyway.
☯
Reshiram slowly fades from the mighty, beautiful dragon she once was.
A million questions run through Hilda’s mind. Is it her fault? Do they not battle enough? Do they battle too often? Is her pokémon sick, or not eating the proper food, or not sleeping well enough? Reshiram calms Hilda’s fears as best she can but their connection only goes so far, and Hilda searches day and night but can never quite pinpoint the problem. She can only make her best guess and wonders if maybe, just maybe, Reshiram is missing something.
(Because Hilda is missing something, too.)
☯
She’s returning from the grocery store, nearly overhead Lacunosa with bags resting atop Reshiram’s back, when she realizes something is wrong. The town is barren: No one is outdoors, neither people nor pokémon, and there’s an eerie silence that makes her worry.
When she finally spots a lone figure near her house, there’s a flash of black and suddenly she knows.
Reshiram lands gracefully between buildings, lowering her body to the ground for her trainer. Hilda slides off her back, careful to land on her feet, not once taking her eyes off N. She feels lightheaded.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hello,” she says.
And that is that.
☯
He takes his tea with a drop of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar. She opts for coffee, black.
They remain in silence in her kitchen, Hilda resting against the counter, N seated at the table. She studies him, the subtle changes, the lighter tint of his hair, the black jacket, the extra inch or so on his height. She studies the similarities, too: the way he sits, his posture tense, long fingers wrapped around his mug, tracing circles along the rim. It reminds her of their battles, of the way he would stand before her, pokéball enclosed in hand, fingers trailing its curves.
She grips the edge of the counter a little tighter.
There’s a single pokéball resting next to his mug and she doesn’t miss that it’s the only one in his possession. She has a similar one nestled at the bottom of her pocket, but then she also has others in her bag, and she wonders if he has others at home. She doesn’t even know if he has a home.
A laugh from outside startles her and she leans forward, peering out the window, smiling faintly when she sees a group of children running between the two dragons, Zekrom playfully nipping at Reshiram. She glances back to N, his gaze trained on a blank spot on her wall.
“He missed her,” he says.
☯
Lacunosa seems brighter with N and Zekrom around. The residents listen to N’s tales of foreign lands with fervor, eager to learn about the places named Hoenn and Sinnoh, about the pokémon that reside there. He finds a particular niche entertaining the children with his stories of gym leaders and legendaries and languages, and Zekrom soothes the fears of those afraid of the old legends that haunt them. Even Reshiram regains her energy, elated at the presence of a familiar companion, one that is her equal, her past, present, and future.
(No one would know the feeling better than Hilda.)
They battle for the first time in years, her and N, no longer a battle of conflicting ideals and obscure truths. His fingers wrap around Zekrom’s pokéball and Hilda falls back into her memories, of fighting against N and his pokémon, of making her way to the top, through the badges and chases and tears. She feels like a naïve little girl again, mesmerized by the way he speaks his ideals and commands pokémon, fights for pokémon. She feels as if she’s back in his castle, N standing before her with Zekrom looming overhead, challenging her to their final battle. She can barely breathe. There’s no longer the pressure, the burden of saving an entire world, but she’s never been able to separate those feelings from N, even now.
She doubts he even realizes what he’s done (is doing) to her.
He calls forth Zekrom, commands the dragon with power, the power of a(n ex-) king. It resonates throughout Hilda’s body, his every word sending a shiver down her spine, stealing her breath. He tells her of the legend, of Reshiram and Zekrom and the two brothers, and though she’s heard it a million times she’s never heard it from N. His voice is strong, stronger than before, dictating a power of his own, of Zekrom’s, and her knees weaken.
One dragon, torn into two. Two parts of the same whole, yin and yang, lightning and fire, ideals and truth. And she watches, watches the dragons battle, not out of hatred but respect and felicity and completion, and when she looks back to N, she knows.
I missed you too she shouts, voice cracking over Reshiram’s final blast, over the smoke and electricity and N’s voice, and when the air clears, when N returns Zekrom to his pokéball and turns toward her, a smile playing across his lips, she knows that he knows, too.
(When she kisses him he doesn’t seem surprised.)
Author: rhubarb_tart
Rating: pg-13
Verse: games [gen V]
Characters: n, hilda
Summary: “he missed her,” he says. for abarero.
Warnings: n/a
Note: I listened to this while I wrote; I think it fits the story well. ♥
She’s never left Unova.
She’s battled, battled for badges and titles and truth, battled for her pokémon and herself and the Pokédex, and she’s earned her place as Champion. She’s saved the world. She’s saved people and pokémon. She’s a hero.
She’s attracted to power.
(Yet she doesn’t mind when, years later, she relinquishes her title.)
☯
She moves to Lacunosa.
The residents don’t mind her presence. Quite the opposite, even; she’s their hope, their protection from the legend that haunts them. She’s never done anything to fuel this belief but she was a champion and a hero and her own legend is great.
They still refuse to leave their houses at night. She prefers the isolation, anyway.
☯
Reshiram slowly fades from the mighty, beautiful dragon she once was.
A million questions run through Hilda’s mind. Is it her fault? Do they not battle enough? Do they battle too often? Is her pokémon sick, or not eating the proper food, or not sleeping well enough? Reshiram calms Hilda’s fears as best she can but their connection only goes so far, and Hilda searches day and night but can never quite pinpoint the problem. She can only make her best guess and wonders if maybe, just maybe, Reshiram is missing something.
(Because Hilda is missing something, too.)
☯
She’s returning from the grocery store, nearly overhead Lacunosa with bags resting atop Reshiram’s back, when she realizes something is wrong. The town is barren: No one is outdoors, neither people nor pokémon, and there’s an eerie silence that makes her worry.
When she finally spots a lone figure near her house, there’s a flash of black and suddenly she knows.
Reshiram lands gracefully between buildings, lowering her body to the ground for her trainer. Hilda slides off her back, careful to land on her feet, not once taking her eyes off N. She feels lightheaded.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hello,” she says.
And that is that.
☯
He takes his tea with a drop of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar. She opts for coffee, black.
They remain in silence in her kitchen, Hilda resting against the counter, N seated at the table. She studies him, the subtle changes, the lighter tint of his hair, the black jacket, the extra inch or so on his height. She studies the similarities, too: the way he sits, his posture tense, long fingers wrapped around his mug, tracing circles along the rim. It reminds her of their battles, of the way he would stand before her, pokéball enclosed in hand, fingers trailing its curves.
She grips the edge of the counter a little tighter.
There’s a single pokéball resting next to his mug and she doesn’t miss that it’s the only one in his possession. She has a similar one nestled at the bottom of her pocket, but then she also has others in her bag, and she wonders if he has others at home. She doesn’t even know if he has a home.
A laugh from outside startles her and she leans forward, peering out the window, smiling faintly when she sees a group of children running between the two dragons, Zekrom playfully nipping at Reshiram. She glances back to N, his gaze trained on a blank spot on her wall.
“He missed her,” he says.
☯
Lacunosa seems brighter with N and Zekrom around. The residents listen to N’s tales of foreign lands with fervor, eager to learn about the places named Hoenn and Sinnoh, about the pokémon that reside there. He finds a particular niche entertaining the children with his stories of gym leaders and legendaries and languages, and Zekrom soothes the fears of those afraid of the old legends that haunt them. Even Reshiram regains her energy, elated at the presence of a familiar companion, one that is her equal, her past, present, and future.
(No one would know the feeling better than Hilda.)
They battle for the first time in years, her and N, no longer a battle of conflicting ideals and obscure truths. His fingers wrap around Zekrom’s pokéball and Hilda falls back into her memories, of fighting against N and his pokémon, of making her way to the top, through the badges and chases and tears. She feels like a naïve little girl again, mesmerized by the way he speaks his ideals and commands pokémon, fights for pokémon. She feels as if she’s back in his castle, N standing before her with Zekrom looming overhead, challenging her to their final battle. She can barely breathe. There’s no longer the pressure, the burden of saving an entire world, but she’s never been able to separate those feelings from N, even now.
She doubts he even realizes what he’s done (is doing) to her.
He calls forth Zekrom, commands the dragon with power, the power of a(n ex-) king. It resonates throughout Hilda’s body, his every word sending a shiver down her spine, stealing her breath. He tells her of the legend, of Reshiram and Zekrom and the two brothers, and though she’s heard it a million times she’s never heard it from N. His voice is strong, stronger than before, dictating a power of his own, of Zekrom’s, and her knees weaken.
One dragon, torn into two. Two parts of the same whole, yin and yang, lightning and fire, ideals and truth. And she watches, watches the dragons battle, not out of hatred but respect and felicity and completion, and when she looks back to N, she knows.
I missed you too she shouts, voice cracking over Reshiram’s final blast, over the smoke and electricity and N’s voice, and when the air clears, when N returns Zekrom to his pokéball and turns toward her, a smile playing across his lips, she knows that he knows, too.
(When she kisses him he doesn’t seem surprised.)