exeggutorhead | 63rd Transformation [text

When Envy wakes up early Saturday morning, it's to an empty bed.

It isn't an unusual thing; France has work most mornings, or gets up first to cook breakfast. There are plenty of places he could be. Except Envy doesn't remember France getting out of the bed to begin with, which even these days usually wakes him up at least a little. With a barbed feeling of unease tugging at his gut, he decides that it's nothing. He'll just go downstairs and find France and feel stupid for worrying.

France isn't anywhere in the house. Or the yard. Or in sight on the street.

Nobody else is awake yet to ask. It's half an hour of turning the 'Gear over and over in his hands before Envy finally hits Send on the short text that he'd deleted and re-typed five times.

Error: This number is not registered.

Must have dialed wrong.

Error: This number is not registered.

Ha, he can't believe his fingers are so clumsy this morning. He must be really tired. There's a roaring in his ears.

Error: This number is not registered.

---

Envy doesn't entirely remember walking out of the city and onto the route south of Goldenrod, and heading into the woods that run alongside it. He's still holding his 'Gear in one hand, and he must have grabbed his bag on the way out of the house because its weight is digging into his shoulder. Vaguely, he remembers that these were the same woods he'd gone to after Nanao had vanished the first time, years ago. France had come to get him that time. Stopped him from trying to break a tree down with his fists and talked to him and calmed him down. France was always the one to come find him when people vanished.

When was the last time Envy'd said he loved him? He suddenly can't remember, it never was very often. France had said it yesterday.

Something in him finally snaps underneath the numb disbelief, and he swings the bag as hard as he can at the closest tree. It makes a satisfying sound as it slams against the bark and the fabric tears. So he keeps at it until the strap breaks and the bag falls to the ground, spilling cracked-open Potion bottles and bright packages of trail mix all over the dirt. Satisfying, but not nearly enough because the moment he stops everything comes rushing back.

The rest of the house would be awake by now. He could call them, tell them where he is. But as soon as he thinks it, he realizes that he's not going to.

This time, Envy doesn't want to be found.

--

[It's just after dawn on Tuesday morning when Envy finally creeps back to the house. He doesn't want to be alone anymore. He probably would have come back the night before...but he's still self-aware enough to know that he doesn't really want anyone to see him like this. Right now, he looks like HELL. Just about like what you'd expect someone who just spent several days in the woods during a rainstorm, barely sleeping and having violent fits against nature.]

[If nobody catches him on his way in, he's going straight to get cleaned up. He's not okay, not by a long shot, but even in this state he can only stand being covered in mud for so long.]

[Later on in the morning, he sends out a text to the network.]

France is gone, for whoever knew him. If anyone got a Pokemon from him, tell me.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[She knows what he means. It's different when it's someone really important. She doesn't have quite the right basis for comparison-- Envy and France had been a couple for years. But she can guess that it's just as devastating as when she lost her father.]}

I want him back too.

He... he was really good for you.

_{[They all could see it.]}

But you don't know, man.

He might come back. Even years from now, he might.

He could.

Or he might show up on those weekends.

[But the weekends aren't the same, and him maybe coming back eventually...Envy doesn't want to dwell on the questions about that for long right now, doesn't want to consider the frightening not-so-good possibilities that come with it.]

[But the tears are coming under control at least, and he swipes at his eyes to clear them, straightening up more as he absently runs his hand over the rough beard, muttering.]

I've got to get rid of this.

[Although there's scrapes and bruises on the back of that hand, the reds and purples standing out in angry contrast to pale skin now that it's not covered by mud. He's clearly been hitting things that he shouldn't have been.]

_{[... Yeah. Some of the possibilities ARE frightening. And Heather can't rightfully ignore those, so she doesn't say any more on that topic.]

[But it at least looks like he's gotten himself a little more composed, which allows Heather to focus on the next order of business.]

[Brow furrowing, she stops the back-rubbing and reaches out to gently grab the colorful hand. She knows THAT look better than most, and she can tell EXACTLY what happened out there.]}

... Let me bandage that for you first. Okay?

[He winces slightly when she takes his hand, more out of embarrassment than pain. But it isn't as bad as it could be; nothing's broken, and the damage is mainly superficial.]

[A good thing about working for the circus is that even when he's not really thinking, it's becoming automatic to take care of his hands.]

...okay.

[He scoots around her to sit on the toilet seat...and holds up his other hand to show her. It's got similar injuries.]

_{[After the previous soul-baring conversation they'd had up here in the bathroom, now she at least knows where the first-aid kit is. Not that she doesn't have her own QUITE extensive one packed up with her other things, but it doesn't look like he's done anything to his hands that some disinfectant and bandages won't help. Plus whatever grime might have gotten on them got rinsed off already.]

[She tugs the kit out of the cupboard and opens it up, unraveling the guaze as she eyes the damage. Then she takes one of the hands and starts to carefully wrap it.]}

... What were you hitting, out of curiosity?

[Envy holds still while she wraps his hands, unusually still for him. Normally he'd fidget or complain about how human bodies get hurt so easily or something. But he doesn't move a bit, eyes focused downwards on his hands instead of meeting her eyes.]

...trees, mostly. I wasn't--I didn't punch them straight on, I know better than THAT. But I hit them enough for all that, I guess. I didn't really notice.

_{[Unlike his rather clumsy work on her war wounds awhile back, Heather is clearly very used to this sort of thing. She makes quick work of Envy's hands, tight enough to pad the wounds but not so tight as to cut off the bloodflow.]

[She nods as he 'fesses up to the irrational violence, tying the ends of the bandage in a neat little knot.]}

... Trees, huh.

Well.

Better than brick.

_{[With a humorless smirk, she holds up one of her own hands, curling her fingers to show the mottled white scarring on her knuckles.]}

[He just puts his hands back into his lap when she's finished with them, letting them sit there.]

[He doesn't look too surprised when he sees the scars all over her knuckles; he's noticed them before, after all. But he hadn't known the how or why of her getting them.]

What happened?

_{[Her work done, she leans back against the sink.]

[She virtually never talks about the first time Harry Mason had come to Johto. To be honest, there's never really any REASON to. He had returned, older and wiser and more up-to-date on the situation back home, and most of the people who'd been there back then were gone.]

[But it's kinda relevant, right now.]

[In truth... it had never stopped being relevant.]}

Remember when my dad left? You flew out to Mahogany and we had pizza on the roof. I was pretty low, obviously, but... all things considered, I got over it okay, and pretty quick, too.

That's because it wasn't the first time he'd come to this world and then disappeared.

The first time was... a lot worse.

And I didn't... exactly handle it well.

63rd Transformation [text | action for Shark House]

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