Char (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rivalkidneypunch) wrote1999-05-22 03:09 am
rivalkidneypunch) wrote1999-05-22 03:09 am
Entry tags:
[Log summary/narration: March 18 - May 22]
Funny how often this stupid armpit of a school gave Char way too much to think about.
The first thing weighing on his mind had been the death of the other-him, months ago. He still had yet to move on past the immature urge to act out when bad things happened, to transform inner pain into the far easier to understand external kind, and so he'd fallen into the predictable pattern of picking fights for a bit. It had culminated in him seeking out his killer, but in the end, even that hadn't brought him the closure he'd hoped for - after hearing what she'd done, Sasha refused to fight him, and a Charizard could gain no satisfaction out of an opponent that wouldn't acknowledge them. He hadn't wanted to sink to the level of the Blastoise who had slain a creature that wouldn't fight back, nor would his pride allow him to play along with someone trying to hand him a win: he damn well earned what he had. In his stubborn pride, he'd left unfulfilled.
Surprisingly, that hadn't lead to a more drastic method of punishment-seeking. The reason for that had been simple: Bulba needed him. Had needed him since that weird other-self week had ended, really, but... Char and brotherhood didn't gel too well. His first attempt, he wasn't sure he'd been able to accomplish anything. It wasn't until time (and a hint of self-harm) had taken the edge off Bulba's torment that things maybe began to look up. He could breathe easier knowing the crisis was calming down, but that had left an unsettling void for his own stupid shit to come crawling back in. Recent conversations had done nothing to help that, Sasha's baldfaced lack of remorse - annoyance at the very suggestion that Char had yet to forgive her for something so obviously not really her fault - just shoving that unresolved feeling back to the forefront.
That weird week had been hovering in his mind for a while since then. That Charmander he'd been was different from the Charizard he was in this version of the story, very different, but the reason behind it was what unsettled him: one little split-second impulse was literally the only thing separating this Kerosene from that weak, needy Kerosene. Was that the kind of person he really was, underneath that quiet quest to change himself into something he thought Green would rather have? In both worlds, he knew that Aiden had accomplished his dream without his starter. Was it only the hardship of the feral years that had turned that frantic dependency into resentment?
Maybe the only thing that had saved him from weakness was evolution. It was natural for a Charmander to crave the security of a group; even in this childhood, for a long time, it had been hard for him to tell whether being without a pack was so bad because of his sheer incompetence at hunting alone, or because of the loneliness. That, however, had faded as he'd grown stronger; by the time he'd become a Charmeleon, just like that, he'd been totally confident that he could get by all on his own power. As he should be, really: in the end, maybe the one single foundation of his identity was just pure and simple instinct.
If that was the case, then it made this strange new pressure people were putting on him all the more unsettling. At first it had just been Vinnie giving irritating lectures at every opportunity, for some unfathomable reason. But then Professor Oak had joined in on it - not just telling him that he was a disappointment for insisting on adhering to said instincts, but laying the blame for the bullet Raikov put in Char's tail on that very adherence. He'd gone on to add that Char's determination to act like a Charizard actually made Green a worse trainer: an accusation that had stung far more than Char was willing to let on.
It was strange: for all the years Char had been spending with a human form, he'd never actually thought of himself as a human. No matter whether he had scales or skin, the most important part had stayed constant between forms, always a burning distinction separating him from the humans. It made it difficult to sleep, even moreso to shower, everything he wore had to be custom-tailored, and the halls had more than their fair share of scorch-marks, but he'd always kept his tail. Nor had he ever once felt that the things his gut told him were right could actually be wrong. How could he, when after his most dangerous loss, Green had simply told him "that's just how it goes"?
...Yeah. That's just how it goes. There was only one human whose opinion had ever been powerful enough to convince him to change, and that same human understood him perfectly. He couldn't get why Oak thought letting Char be a Charizard made him such a poor trainer. In Char's mind, what Green was doing actually made him a better trainer. Maybe it would be more convenient to force Char to let go of his self-respect, lend his subservience to every human who came his way. But Green was willing to take the bumpier road if it meant his Charizard could be what his nature asked him to be. He was willing to put what was best for his Pokemon before what was easiest for him. If you asked Char? That made Green the best damn trainer there was.
Definitely funny. When he just took it back to Green, it was funny how quickly he got okay with himself again. His obedience had a high price - the highest. Maybe others didn't care for it, but refusing to bow down to them was what made him a Charizard, wasn't it?
Kerosene was somebody who lent himself very well to being buried. Lent himself very well to self-loathing and shame, too. But somehow... he was getting a little sick of that. No more hiding away what had happened, trying to pretend it wasn't really him or twist it into something a bit more tolerable. If that restless ghost wasn't going to get any peace from Sasha, if the living Charizard's wild ways were never going to have acceptance from the people around him, then it was just gonna hafta come from within.
The first thing weighing on his mind had been the death of the other-him, months ago. He still had yet to move on past the immature urge to act out when bad things happened, to transform inner pain into the far easier to understand external kind, and so he'd fallen into the predictable pattern of picking fights for a bit. It had culminated in him seeking out his killer, but in the end, even that hadn't brought him the closure he'd hoped for - after hearing what she'd done, Sasha refused to fight him, and a Charizard could gain no satisfaction out of an opponent that wouldn't acknowledge them. He hadn't wanted to sink to the level of the Blastoise who had slain a creature that wouldn't fight back, nor would his pride allow him to play along with someone trying to hand him a win: he damn well earned what he had. In his stubborn pride, he'd left unfulfilled.
Surprisingly, that hadn't lead to a more drastic method of punishment-seeking. The reason for that had been simple: Bulba needed him. Had needed him since that weird other-self week had ended, really, but... Char and brotherhood didn't gel too well. His first attempt, he wasn't sure he'd been able to accomplish anything. It wasn't until time (and a hint of self-harm) had taken the edge off Bulba's torment that things maybe began to look up. He could breathe easier knowing the crisis was calming down, but that had left an unsettling void for his own stupid shit to come crawling back in. Recent conversations had done nothing to help that, Sasha's baldfaced lack of remorse - annoyance at the very suggestion that Char had yet to forgive her for something so obviously not really her fault - just shoving that unresolved feeling back to the forefront.
That weird week had been hovering in his mind for a while since then. That Charmander he'd been was different from the Charizard he was in this version of the story, very different, but the reason behind it was what unsettled him: one little split-second impulse was literally the only thing separating this Kerosene from that weak, needy Kerosene. Was that the kind of person he really was, underneath that quiet quest to change himself into something he thought Green would rather have? In both worlds, he knew that Aiden had accomplished his dream without his starter. Was it only the hardship of the feral years that had turned that frantic dependency into resentment?
Maybe the only thing that had saved him from weakness was evolution. It was natural for a Charmander to crave the security of a group; even in this childhood, for a long time, it had been hard for him to tell whether being without a pack was so bad because of his sheer incompetence at hunting alone, or because of the loneliness. That, however, had faded as he'd grown stronger; by the time he'd become a Charmeleon, just like that, he'd been totally confident that he could get by all on his own power. As he should be, really: in the end, maybe the one single foundation of his identity was just pure and simple instinct.
If that was the case, then it made this strange new pressure people were putting on him all the more unsettling. At first it had just been Vinnie giving irritating lectures at every opportunity, for some unfathomable reason. But then Professor Oak had joined in on it - not just telling him that he was a disappointment for insisting on adhering to said instincts, but laying the blame for the bullet Raikov put in Char's tail on that very adherence. He'd gone on to add that Char's determination to act like a Charizard actually made Green a worse trainer: an accusation that had stung far more than Char was willing to let on.
It was strange: for all the years Char had been spending with a human form, he'd never actually thought of himself as a human. No matter whether he had scales or skin, the most important part had stayed constant between forms, always a burning distinction separating him from the humans. It made it difficult to sleep, even moreso to shower, everything he wore had to be custom-tailored, and the halls had more than their fair share of scorch-marks, but he'd always kept his tail. Nor had he ever once felt that the things his gut told him were right could actually be wrong. How could he, when after his most dangerous loss, Green had simply told him "that's just how it goes"?
...Yeah. That's just how it goes. There was only one human whose opinion had ever been powerful enough to convince him to change, and that same human understood him perfectly. He couldn't get why Oak thought letting Char be a Charizard made him such a poor trainer. In Char's mind, what Green was doing actually made him a better trainer. Maybe it would be more convenient to force Char to let go of his self-respect, lend his subservience to every human who came his way. But Green was willing to take the bumpier road if it meant his Charizard could be what his nature asked him to be. He was willing to put what was best for his Pokemon before what was easiest for him. If you asked Char? That made Green the best damn trainer there was.
Definitely funny. When he just took it back to Green, it was funny how quickly he got okay with himself again. His obedience had a high price - the highest. Maybe others didn't care for it, but refusing to bow down to them was what made him a Charizard, wasn't it?
Kerosene was somebody who lent himself very well to being buried. Lent himself very well to self-loathing and shame, too. But somehow... he was getting a little sick of that. No more hiding away what had happened, trying to pretend it wasn't really him or twist it into something a bit more tolerable. If that restless ghost wasn't going to get any peace from Sasha, if the living Charizard's wild ways were never going to have acceptance from the people around him, then it was just gonna hafta come from within.