Search results

The Shadow of David Ambrose trembled a little in Sombra's limbs. She kept hold of him, and hoped that perhaps if she held him long enough, he would be less afraid. Less in pain. Didn't he want that for her, in turn? If she held him long enough, maybe she would be less scared and hurt, too...

Sombra sought level eye contact with the Shadow-mightyena. "Some people are better at carin' fer others than themselves. I think you an' I are like that. Don't forget that I wanna see you happy, too." She pressed her forehead to Shadow's brow. "I love you, Dad."

Sombra put her nose to Shadow's head and kept hold of him. "We all want each other t'be happy. Shit's always more complicated than that. But you know that. An' speakin' of you... You'll be loved, in time, I'm sure. Y'just gotta meet someone who understands you an' doesn't turn away . . . an'...

Sombra's face contorted into a grimacing scowl that she didn't let Shadow see, though he may have felt her grip on him tighten. "A gal who promised she trusted us an' then never reached out after somethin' went wrong. A gal we protected from the anger of the townsfolk, who hightailed it once...

Sombra let Shadow stay there, clinging. She clung back, and her exhaustion seeped out of her continuously in that dry, warm, moving air that felt so like a sigh. "You've got twice the years I have, if our years ain't too different. D'you really think it's so simple as lovable and unlovable...

"We love you too, y'know," whispered Sombra. "We know you care. Sometimes it don't make sense to us that y'do. Sometimes y'remind us of Pa. But we always know." Sombra beckoned Shadow over for a hug. He accepted, and Sombra pulled him close, and thought it a little strange that she should be...

Sombra turned to fully face Shadow and looked at him through tired, melancholy eyes. "We will always care about others. The fantasy is that we might learn a way t'survive never expectin' t'be loved in return. To love others silently, painlessly, needin' nothin' from them t'feel whole."

Sombra gaves another of her breathy, ethereal sighs. "We want t'not be in pain. I wind up contemplatin' any means of not bein' in pain, in the end. Not wantin' t'be loved is . . . a weirdly comfortin' idea that ain't ever happenin' fer real. It ain't a real goal."

Sombra perked her ears as she loped through the corridor between the neighbouring dormitories, aware that she was being followed. She let Shadow keep after her until she returned to Brisa's room. Using doors was . . . grounding. She felt real. "Got somethin' on yer mind, fella?" she asked...

"I'll speak with Brisa, an' try to get her to talk to friends, or therapists, or whoever the hell she'll agree to tell. Thanks, partner. I appreciate yer time." She turned to leave. "An' good luck." <><><><><>

"Brisa hates the idea of someone scrutinisin' her private thoughts. It's a visceral reaction. Her perspicacity, an' her luxray vision, an' her insight into the Radiance an' Shadows folks display... Those're all forms of scrutiny. Her resentment of what her pa did don't extend so far as resentin'...

Sombra cupped her cheek and rested her head in her paw. "'Course she has. Plenty, in fact. Fer instance, why d'ya think her familiar looks like that? Brisa dreamed as a kid that she might one day be a zeraora, a wanderin' champion of justice who'd protect the innocent, strong enough to depend...

Sombra listened, nodding along until the Shadow-charizard mentioned Starr, and that earned a bout of dry, hacking laughter. "Y'know, I bet she would talk t'Starr about her crushes. In fact, I'm certain of it. By sky an' stars, that'd be a conversation to witness." She pinched the bridge of her...

Sombra laughed properly at that. "Interests. Funny way of puttin' it. Ah, but I'll let it warm me all the same. Owen's 'obligations' an' Brisa's 'interests' aside, their friendship is more meaningful than y'might even realise. I've though of him as a brother fer a while now, an' even Brisa seems...

"Our heart bleeds fer others," breathed Sombra, and the final syllable became a chuckle as dry as bleached bone. "An' fer ourself. Brisa feels such love, an' scarce ever seeks reciprocation. It is . . . a painful way to live."

"Sounds like yer sayin' I oughta try to persuade her to acknowledge her own heart," whispered Sombra. "I can only try. An' if she pushes me away... Well, perhaps you an' yer host can get her t'see th'truth if I can't. I couldn't say." The illusory wine-red stain on her chest grew a little larger.

Sombra nodded, her mind – if it was her mind – filling with memories of past pain and imagined future hurt. She ran a paw down one side of her face, her claws tugging at her shadowy fur, "I am afraid," she whispered. "That by seekin' out what we want, we'll be hurt worse. Waitin' in hope is...

Sombra's face twisted darkly. "I resent him fer representin' the concept of a world where the best outcome one can hope for is survival, bleak an' tainted by the blood spilled to achieve it. We ain't got... We will always fight fer a victory worth achievin'." She sighed. Her chains shifted in...

Sombra made an expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "Are we alive, Wishkeeper? I can think and act as if I were a person. Is Brisa doin' my thinkin' an' feelin' as she dreams, or is it the Shadow energy itself?" She shook her head. "Losin' love an' loved ones is a cruel agony...

"If'n we can't be loved or it's unhealthy somehow, is it possible to just . . . stop carin'? Harden our heart an' live without seekin' affection returned." Sombra looked at the sleeping forms of Owen and Dave. They'd give different responses, she was sure. She didn't want them. She wanted to...