A Realistic Pokemon RP
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The adults in their white uniforms whisper. They are pledged to take care of you, but they didn't promise not to gossip. They whisper behind their hands as they give you your meals, watch over you while you play, put you to bed. They shake their heads in pity when you pass. You are aware of them, always painfully aware. Everywhere you turn they are there – in starched white uniforms, looking sorry for you. They were there from the day they arrived, and they will be there until the day that you die.
They were the ones, shining beams of pure white in a city of darkness, who pulled you from the soot and ashes, clutching your parent's leftovers (sauteéd in the fire). You were pried from your father and mother, or, what was left of them.
Oh, your father. You don't remember him much, he floats like a specter on the edge of your memory, floating in and out. You remember parts of his face – the kind eyes yet stern mouth, it's the specifics that elude you. You know that he owned a library, and would take you there so often you knew the name of every book and remembered their covers by heart, but now you go there and hear only fleeting laughter as you open a children's book – the remains of those memories. You remember your mother even less. A smile and something warm like a kiss on the forehead, but nothing else. All you know now are the white people – your present and your future.
And now everyday you go home to them – that grotesquely plain white box with your belongings and bed – and you pass by the plaque on the door like a zombie.
You liked them when you were little (well, as much as anyone could like them). You knew that you needed them – for protection, for food, for family. But then you met Nanu.
Nanu was the opposite of what you wanted. You wanted a warm, loving home, a cheap imitation of the memories of what had once been lurking in your brain, but at least something. Instead, you got ... Nanu. Not the best, but he wasn't the worst either, and now that you look back at it, you prefer him to those who you once considered family.
He was stern, and at times your younger mind considered him cruel, but he never whispered and he never pitied. And you liked that about him. As soon as he became the Kahuna, that's what drew you to him (after all, the last Kahuna was your father). Like the lonely, curious child you were (and still are), you began to follow the new Kahuna. At first he didn't know you were there, or he ignored you, but you were a persistent and annoying little girl. He had to notice you.
From that moment on, you were inseparable, or more like he couldn't pry you away from him. Your thirst for family led you to attach yourself to him, and you never let go.
You spent the rest of your childhood as you had before, with the addition of Nanu. He gave you something that the conformity of the people in white never gave you – individuality and, of course, a place as a trial captain.
You always felt akin to ghost-type pokémon. There was something lonely and wistful about you all, and you just clicked. Not many people choose ghost pokémon, this fact combined with the one that you were a persistent little girl and Nanu would do anything to get you off of his back, landed you the part of trial captain in-training.
Hours were spent training, and you never really got good at it, but that was ok. You were alright, and the object of the game is to provide a challenge, which you could and would do.
You've been a captain ever since.
You grew up. That's all that happened, you know, and all that does happen when a teenager wants to break free. You grew up and instead of hanging on to Nanu like you used to, you began to want some space, and it's worrying (at least to him). You wander from place to place, never check in, and Tapus know where you are during the night. But, you're having fun, while trying to shake off your old uncle Nanu you once loved but has since fallen out of style. The only thing you care about is your pokémon, being trial captain, and having fun.
Who cares about Team Skull? Oh, except for the fact that they hurt pokémon (intentional or not). They can go on hurting people, you don't care about people, but pokémon are different.
You feel like you've been wronged, hurt – like some cosmic power has it out for you. But you've also turned this wrong and this hurt, left over from the day the white people pulled you out of the black, into happiness and fun, and that's who you are now – turning all the unhappiness in the world good.