She doesn’t speak very often because she doesn’t need to, and she grew up not really needing to either. She is surrounded by psychics with telepathy and fighters who use body language from birth. Her parents are kind and loving but always busy and a little neglectful–they are specialists whose skills go beyond just training and collecting psychics and fighters. Her mother helps rehabilitate those who had been injured, rejuvenates and reassembles her patients with physical therapy. Her father helps catch criminals, can profile the perpetrator and prevent their next crime. They bring hope to the city, and she would never want to deprive the city of them. Speech is a small price to pay for their happiness and the city’s safety.
And it’s not like she can’t communicate through other ways. She has no psychic ability, unfortunately, but even if she’s not a fighter she has a body and that’s enough. Tapping feet means impatience, a roll of the shoulder is nonchalance, head tilting means confusion, physical motion can correspond easily to a multitude of concepts. Why speak, when she can dance?
~
Whenever possible, he sleeps in a giant, literal dog pile with his team. Their furry bodies are warm and soothing pressed against him during the cold nights, and if he’s going to be honest, it reminds him of home. Having five siblings in a two bedroom apartments meant that space was a luxury. He remembers waking up in the middle of the night to his little brother’s bony elbows jabbing into his side. He remembers sliding his half-full plate over to his sisters, deciding that “not hungry” was good enough for him in exchange for his sisters being “not malnourished.” He remembers the tight, forced smile on his mother’s face as she went over their bills and their financials again and again and again. He remembers her barely muffled sobs when she thought everyone was asleep.
His pack haven’t met his family, which creates a dissonance in his head. Both are important to him, and he is part of both groups, and yet they are separate pieces of his life. But not entirely, for he likely would never have gotten his dogs were it not for his family. He had searched for a way to contribute, had come upon the deal the city’s scientists were making to any volunteers old enough. Journey and record as much phenomena as he could–they’d given him the necessary equipment and the first dog–and he’d get a regular salary as well as the chance to make more money during his travels. It was an opportunity too good to refuse, so he didn’t. And he definitely doesn’t regret it.
~
A/N: Ugh, I feel bad because I was going to do a third part but I honestly could not think of what to do. So… this is sort of fanfiction for Pokémon featuring two OCs–one whose parents specialized in fighting type and psychic type. And one whose team is entirely dogs.
JackSGreyson Says 