Mommy won't you please come home?~

[pianokeys]

Who: the Other Father (pianokeys) & the Other Mother (otherisbetter)
Where: On way to New Bark, New Bark, possibly Cherrygrove?
When: Mid-day of the 4th September
Summary: Other Mother's finally arrived in Johto, but she's not coping so well with being human. Other Father's coming to take her home.
Rating: P/G?
Log:


He was scared, there was no doubting that; it was in his eyes, his thoughts- and whilst in the air, the Dragonite focused in front, it was in his expression too. He knew being human was hard, what with keeping your strength up, not over-doing it when looking after people and eating for a few things; she had always kept his energy in line when needed. He had known what fatigue was like when she de-powered him, but it never really felt the same as the fatigue he experienced in the Pokémon world. He knew she would be human, but he hadn't expected her to look so ill though; it was horrifying really, it made him feel guilty to think that might have been him that caused that in the long-run. And seeing the person you love break down hurt, let alone possibly being a part of it. If a person so strong and proud as the Beldam could be reduced to that, if his creator could be reduced to that...

He had thought on the situation of what would happen if Mother were ever to arrive in Johto, quite a lot. He had guessed that she would most likely no longer need souls to eat, refilling his cup of hope that had been emptying over the years; if she didn't need to eat then maybe, just maybe they could be a real family. He still liked to believe that she loved the children as more than just food, that she didn't like to eat them (although that too had been dwindling with time), so maybe if she could eat regular food to live, then they could be happy? Maybe his hope hadn't been in vain; he had hoped for so long, but when it's the only thing you had left to grasp on, when everything around you was false, you simply had to hope. He had expected she wouldn't like being human, that she would maybe be angry and he would get the blame as usual; he had expected he would try and calm her down, probably get threatened, use the idea of a home- of a family- as a method of resting her anger. He had never expected she would get ill.

Looks like the recent outbreak training could come in handy.

The light rain had arrived since yesterday, mixed in with patches of sunshine. The droplets hit at his coat, his arm up in front of his face to shield his eyes from the impact.
"How'ya copin', Snapdrag?" The Pokémon made an approving noise, eager to keep moving.

"My wife's in New Bark, Snapdrag; Now, I need an orange dragon who can go at high speeds... Think y'know one?' He had asked playfully. The Dragonite had seeming happy that it finally would get to meet her; all of Father's Pokémon had heard him speak about her and how fantastic she was, just as some of the Pokémon had occasionally seen how he would get when left alone to think about what he had done to her. He had had his own lows in his stay in Johto, not all too unfamiliar to that night in the Music Room back in the Otherworld.

He dwelled on all of this as they flew against the wind at high-speeds. They had been at the journey for a good twenty-nine hours now, already taking four or five breaks. They were both tired from the journey, but then wasn't the time to sleep. They would have to rest before heading back; the Dragonite personally wouldn't have been able to take the journey back to Goldenrod without going to a Pokémon center. If he picked her up, perhaps they could fly to Cherrygrove, see if a Doctor could look at the Other Mother- if she would even allow it-, stay at the Inn and rest... and try not to make her angry.

And then it came into vision.

Guess who's in town? Where are you, sugarpie?

They lowered to above the buildings, flying in circles until a response was had. "Never seen a Pokémon go so fast; I'm prou~d to say I'm your trainer." He petted the Pokémon's head in thanks, honestly grateful for how brilliant he was throughout the flight.

Comments

Short and terrible response is a go!

[otherisbetter]

Mother had no idea her husband was so far away. All she felt was the sick feeling that, as the hours rolled along, he may not be coming for her. He was leaving her, again. He was choosing someone else over her; the woman he claimed to love. The woman who made him more than just another pumpkin sitting in her garden. She gave him a home; a family. He owed her his life and yet, he was abandoning her, yet again. Her Drifloon, who after four or five hours of waiting she had decided to name Sprigtan, nuzzled her neck, it's string pushing hair off her damp forehead.

Her fever was spiking.

Sprigtan whined, frantically swiping at her forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat, only stopping when Mother grabbed its string, shushing it and rubbing a thumb over its heart like attachment. There wasn't any point in scaring her baby; she needed peace and quiet. A few moments of silence to let her focus and think up a plan.

The next town was at least a day away, and with the way her legs shook whenever she tried to stand, she wouldn't make it anywhere, not even back to New Bark. Nevertheless, there wasn't any other option; it was stand up and walk back to town, or sit and wait for a husband who had left her for dead once, already.

The opted for the first choice, and, using Sprigtan's kind offer of its string, pulled herself to her shaking feet.

It would be a lie to say that walking for half a day back to the house she had woken up in was easy. With every step, her legs threatened to give out, and it was thanks solely to her dear Sprigtan that she never, not even once, fells on her face. Of course, the woman who claimed to be her Mother (that claim bothered her far more than it should have) allowed her back into the house to rest, letting her and Sprigtan curl up on the couch with a glass of water and a thick blanket, the trainer and her Pokemon wrapped around each other like children.

She was awoken the next day by her Gear buzzing. Mother reached out to the glass coffee table in front of the couch, taking the device and raising it to her face.

It was a message from her husband.

He was searching for her. He never left her, at all.

With a tired smile, she texted back her reply, humming as Sprigtan brushed more sweaty hair from her face.

In Mother's house.

Hurry.

It is neither! *u*

[pianokeys]

And that he did; it took him a moment to remember where 'mother's house' was- it was strange to see her say that and not refer to herself- but the Dragonite swooped down once told.

Upon landing, he strode to the door, only finding it locked. Now wasn't the time for some of Johto's strange rules, but 'Mom' didn't usually let people back in- especially not after they had been there for a year; it looked like because he wasn't ill, he wasn't allowed.

Outside; my Other Mother won't let me in.

Now that was weird to say that, but his usual mechanism in these situations had always been to act like sunshine and shine on everyone else- when there were others around, of course, or at least when he really had the energy too.

Don't worry Mother, he'd never leave you behind.

Cease being nice, I say!

[otherisbetter]

Other Mother sighed, pushing the blanket off herself and carefully unwinding Sprigtan from around her waist. She was still exhausted, though at least the taste of bile no longer burned her throat and her migrane was beginning to fade, but her eyes were surrounded by dark rings, and her skin was still clammy and pale. She pushed herself to her feet off the lounge, threatening to topple over more than once as she took slow, awkward steps towards the front door. Sprigtan, who had woken during the small commotion, followed behind Mother, glancing over her shoulder and almost buzzing with excitement.

Her Mother-- Her Other Mother, raised an eyebrow at her from the kitchen, questioning whether or not her 'daughter' should be outside in such a poor states health. Mother offered a scowl in return, memories of her own, true Mother hitting her like a brick.

The looks. The scoffs. The raised eyebrows. The way she screamed when she was slowly buried alive by her own daughter.

Mother blinked, snapping herself out of her fantasy and quickly turning away to try a ignore the urge to beat the other woman until she was cold and lifeless and focus solely on her dear husband. Her sweet little pumpkin.

She smiled sdshe opened the door, immediately recognizing the man despite the numerous changes she certainly didn't approve of, but would deal with later.

"Hello, dear." She greeted, her usual elegance replaced with a foreign tiredness. "Did you have to come far?"

Never!~

[pianokeys]

When she opened the door, he couldn't help but instantly notice her new demeanor; it hit him like a ton of bricks to the face and he didn't like how ill she looked. She was still beautiful, but the state didn't suit her one bit. He had to put his hand into the pocket of his orange suit-jacket, pulling out and placing his glasses rightly back on his face to see her better.

"Never too far for you." He forced on a happy face, keeping it together to see if he could cheer her up and take her mind off of anything bad. The entire situation was alien to him; he could deal with her being angry or happy or agitated, but this was new and he didn't quite know what to do.

He decided stretching out a hand to take hers romantically might be a good move. Hopefully.

The large orange dragon shifted in the background, eager to get a peak at the woman.

Curse yoooou!

[otherisbetter]

Mother watches his extended hand for a moment, considering what may happen if she takes it. Surely it could be taken as some sign of submission or a promise that she'll release him from her spell, and while she may not be the exact imagine of kindness, she certainly doesn't want to completely crush her pumpkin husband. She gives him a look, though it's far weaker than usual, it still gets across the point that nothing will change between them because of this little hiccup. She's still the boss; she wears the pants; she still owns him.

But, once she's sure the point has been made clear, Mother takes her husband's hand, icy, trembling hand almost dwarfed by his own. It's an unfamiliar feeling of comfort. She may never want to be this weak again or have to rely on her husband to save her, but there's something about that instant she can't help but fall in love with. Just the way he holds her hand, treating her like she's glass...

It's enough to have her take a step forward and rest her head in the crook of his neck. Despite being away for who knows how long, he still smells the same. Like pumpkin and cinnamon. A smell that's just so him Mother adores it more than any other scent in the world. Her free hand trails down, resting over his heart, feeling the rhythmic pounding through his dress shirt. She never bothered with hearts when it came to her dolls; it honestly just seemed like extra work. Though, if all hearts feel so warm and soothing, she may reconsider her designs.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't come for me," she mumbled against his skin. "You proved me wrong, again, sweetheart."

But that would be mean and therefor not nice!

[pianokeys]

She may have felt his heart beat a little slower as she rests her head- not that it wasn't beating fast in panic anyway- but it calmed down when he knew she had accepted the gesture. It was always dubious on whether she would accept or take offense to gestures to him, when she was in a state like that.

It was funny really, that he would have been able to tell the look she gave him just as much even without the tell-tale emotions eyes add to the effect, but after a year of having them and being around them, he'd learnt how to read them and determine what the best course of fathering was. Not that he didn't slip up still. But he knew instantly that her look was one of domination; his look made it clear that he would still obey, still deeply, madly in love with her and- not above all, but getting close- scared of her... but perhaps a little less than he used to be, or perhaps that was just the sadness of seeing her in such a state, or maybe even just tiredness; he was ever so tired.

A nice mixture of shampoo and Conditioner at bath-time had helped him with that, having not taken comfort in the smell, but at least familiarity with home. He tried never to lose all familiarity with home, even though he had seemed to have gained a new one.

His hand stayed where it was, the other resting perfectly on her shoulder. He didn't want to take up too much of a possessive position, afraid she'd dislike it in such a time of weakness. He wanted to hug her and make her feel like it was all okay, like the world would be fine and he would stick by her as much as he could.

The feeling was far too foreign; it was frightening how many boundaries he usually wouldn't push were required obstacles in calming her. What was happening was happening all too quickly. He knew at that time though, more than anything, how much he loved her no matter what she was like, or was, or did: he loved her.

"What kind of husband would I be if I didn't?" o~hoo~

I am the Other Other Mother, and I feed on meanness!

[otherisbetter]

She snuggled closer, wordlessly giving him permission to hold her as he pleased. Mother would probably have to discipline him, later; just give him a quick reminder as to who was the true head of the household. Let him know that this state of weakness was one he would never se her in, again. But, until then, Mother was happy to simply let herself be engulfed by her husband and breath his scent.

"You wouldn't be my husband, sweetpea," she replied to his question, eyelids growing heavy as the soft fabric of his dress jacket warmed around her. There was an unfamiliarity soothing factor her husband possessed; one she'd never noticed until day. Whatever it was, she wanted to feel it, again. Preferably in private where the children couldn't watch their strong, confident Mother cuddling up to her husband like a stuffed toy. They humiliation would be simply too great for her to stand.

Nevertheless, she clung to him, content enough with their current isolation to tilt her head up and lay a soft kiss on Fater's jawline. The skin was softer than, before, and, whether it was intended of not, tasted vaguely of spiced apples.

"That's what I love about you..." She trailed off, mouth dotting kisses upwards until her lips were only a fraction a prt from her husband's own. Mother didn't move, merely stood there, almost daring Father to lean in and kiss her; to take charge mimply to test the boundaries; to not be so afraid of her.

"You always come back."

Then you won't be getting food from me, Other Other Mother! Only love and kindness and adoration.

[pianokeys]

It was times like then, the warmth, the love- how it should be- that made all of the times of anger worth it. He always wanted to believe that that was what she was truly like, to forget what she really was at her core. Maybe if he forgot about some things, life would seem better until the bad stuff peeked its head again?

He embraced her a little more, the smile genuinely returning to his lips at the kisses. He knew she needed his love right then; he didn't really want to think how starved of love she must have been since... well, he always hoped that Coraline had escaped; but she seemed it.

He wasn't sure whether it was how much he had missed her, or how much she seemed to tempt him, or even how much stronger he had gotten in his last year, but whatever it was it gave him the bravery to lean forward and kiss her on the lips- nothing much more than a loving lip-to-lip- finding his eyes gazing into hers as he did so. He could get used to those eyes as long as they were on a healthier looking Other Mother.

If his smile didn't show how much he loved her, his eyes would.