FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

---Morrigan---

I saw it all through her eyes. Old memories felt faint and distant to her, but she hadn't forgotten entirely. The day she left. We'd been arguing, all week. She wanted to go explore where the mudslide happened. Curious young girl, excited to see something new. It was still rainy, I didn't want her muddy, or hurt. But she had been determined, and snuck out when I was asleep. I thought I knew where she went, and spent all day searching through the downed trees and hip deep loose mud. But she wasn't there.

She had found her way to the road, and followed it for miles. Hungry, tired, but for the first time in her life, she felt like her footsteps were her own. She didn't feel afraid of being away from me. She felt free. She felt bitter about me. She hated me, back then.

She hated being weak, having to run away. She hated not being able to tell me. To face me. Hated being afraid of me. My daughter was afraid of me.

The day she was first captured, she could have run, could have hid, but the man was gentle, sat down next to her, fed her and told her all about the trainers he wanted her to go with. If I was an old woman, he was ancient, to her. The way he spoke, the fact that he understood her, she'd never felt anything like it. He gave her a sense of purpose. A meaning to it all. She felt proud when he extended the pokeball, felt proud of the idea of it. Of looking after someone who was even smaller, and weaker than she was.

She pushed the button herself. She accepted it, against every warning I had ever given her. She accepted it, and for the next few months, waited patiently, every day, for the trainer she would be a partner to. She worried towards the end, that he'd never come. That he'd never get there. That something had happened, or that she'd been lied to. But the man reassured her, told her stories about himself. About his time as a trainer. About life on the road, and the energy of a league tournament battle. About excitement, and adventure, and a whole world to explore.

She knew a day in advance that her trainer was coming, and was so nervous she couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. She had no idea what to expect. Only that the old man had promised her that she would mean everything to him. She only had that hope, and no idea what it would mean.

He was bigger than she thought he'd be, her trainer. Her partner. Her new friend. He met her with sitrus berries, and spent the day just talking to her, playing with her, getting to know her. He was bigger than she thought, and she felt a bit of sadness at the idea of him not needing her to protect him. Not needing her to look after him.

That faded as he looked after her. She'd been told to expect a lot of traveling, a lot of testing her, seeing her strengths, accepting her faults, learning by doing. But he wasn't actually like that. Her nervousness faded as he showed her, taught her everything he could in those few weeks. Taught her to dodge, and fight, and mostly to think. To pay attention. To not be distracted, and to never give up.

Her first fight... that burned bright in her memories. The pidgey was faster than she had expected and tried to swoop down on her, again and again. She couldn't do half of what she wanted to, didn't know how. But she could dodge, and she could watch. If she couldn't crane her head up high and fast enough to see him, she could watch his shadow, and guess at the rest.

She was so proud of having won, so proud of being strong enough for him. But mostly, she was relieved that he called the fight, didn't ask her to keep going, didn't ask the other trainer to. They both learned, laughed, commiserated, shared tips. He was gentle, and taught the younger trainer a few little things, and celebrated afterward. He was humble, and kind, and he looked after her, made sure she was alright. Not just the scrapes and bruises, but that she felt alright. That she wasn't afraid, wasn't unhappy.

As they traveled, he took a lot of time, walked everywhere. Often left the road, just to see what was beyond it. Kindred spirits in that, I realized, as he held her in his arms and carried her up the hills and over the rough terrain. She saw the world with him, and anew through him, and he to her. They were friends, first and foremost, and she adored him. Looked to him like she had never looked to me.

It hurt to know that, and it was a bitter taste in my mouth when I saw what came next.

Sand, the beach, the ocean. She'd never seen anything like it before. The way the waves crashed against the shore. The sound of all the sea birds. The crowds. He spent the day playing with her there, in the sand. Took her swimming, stayed close, and held her, and dried off in the sun with her. He was distracted half of the day and she didn't understand why. He'd never been like that before, and it worried her. That night, he'd had a room, they almost never had a room, and never one so nice, but he did.

He was going to shut her away. She didn't understand, but I did. He was a man, after all. I felt a creeping sick sense of disgust welling up in my throat as she convinced him otherwise. Felt my sorrow, and bitterness as he lay beside her. Her innate curiosity, his scent, the unusual way he'd been behaving.

In her memory, he had almost fallen asleep. She'd felt strange, his scent, unusually warm, earthy, good. She wanted more. She had begun to understand, because she was feeling the same things. The same want for closeness. For touch, and contact. She was still so little, but even she understood what it was to desire. His accidental brush against her felt better than anything she'd ever known before. She bucked into his fingers, pushed against him, invited more. Wanted more, and he didn't stop.

It shouldn't have been him. I couldn't have stopped it, I couldn't stand watching it, seeing it through her eyes. The way he touched her, the way he probed her, and licked her. He was going to hurt her! I saw it through her eyes as he knelt on the bed, rubbed himself against her. She wanted it. I felt sick. She was too small! Too small!

But no... he stopped, he touched her all over, and kissed her and held her, and he found satisfaction, and filled her with the evidence of it... but he didn't hurt her. He was careful. He was so careful with my daughter. She wanted more than he gave, but he held back, knowing she'd have taken everything, even if it hurt, he held back. And she loved him for it. She understood without him saying anything that he wanted even more, that he wanted more and she couldn't quite give it to him. So she gave him what love she could. Pleasured him, willingly, eagerly. It didn't hurt. Not her body, not her heart. It affirmed every choice she made up to then.

Her evolution didn't matter to her at all... except for one thing, that she could give him what he wanted that first night. And she did, and it ached and felt good and was too much and not enough and it overwhelmed her but she only wanted more, and it confused her but in a good way and all of her thoughts were in a rush as he filled her, flooded her. He didn't hold back, didn't hold anything back. He accepted her. He accepted her!

The first time he heard her thoughts, their first brush of true union, she saw the tears in his eyes, the joy, the wonder. I saw them. Felt his heartbeat through her fingertips, felt the way she had stunned him, in the best possible way, when she told him for the first time that she loved him. When he understood how sincerely, how deeply and thoroughly she meant it. For all the times he told her, and showed her and cared for her, to be able to tell him that she loved him meant more to her than anything ever had in her life.

I didn't have words, as I broke contact, broke down, sobbed, fell to the dirt. All this time, I had been so afraid, so angry, so wrong... he had been nothing but good to her, if those were the memories she kept, he was the opposite of what I had, and she had all the happiness I wished I had. All the joy I'd been denied.

I wanted to find fault. I wanted to find a reason to be right. To show her again that I knew best, but I came up empty. I had nothing to defend myself with, because the only thing I had to begin with was my own hurt and fear. My daughter was a brave girl, she faced me, head on, because she believed in him that much.

He was more a parent to her than I had been. She had changed so much with him. In so many good ways.

All my anger, all my hurt, it felt ridiculous. Clinging to all of it for so long, when she was able to go see the world, to enjoy it, every day with fresh eyes. Not clinging to yesterday, but reaching for tomorrow... It made me feel like our roles had reversed, and she should be admonishing me like a mother.

But for a moment, she just looked at me, and I felt hurt radiating from her. For my intrusion, for my anger, for my lack of understanding. Hurt and a sense of nothing having changed. She didn't say a word, and I realized she didn't need to. Until that moment, nothing had.

I had shamed her, in that moment. Disgraced her. Abused her. I was cruel, I was hurtful. I was every terrible thing she ever thought of me. I saw it in her eyes before I felt it in my mind, and in the agonizing truth of it, there was no defense. I didn't deserve defense.

---Claire---

I wanted to kill her. I wanted to absolutely kill her. For hurting Tempest. For intruding on my thoughts, my memories, my privacy. For treating me like she owned me, like I owed her answers, owed her my existence. Owed her anything. I wanted to kill her.

As she withdrew from my thoughts, and I felt myself flush with the lingering arousal at the memories she'd rifled through, I felt betrayed. I felt furious. Livid. Those were my memories. Those were my precious moments with him. They weren't for her! She wasn't supposed to experience any of that with him! He wasn't hers!

I wanted to scream, I wanted to spit. Mostly I wanted to grab her by her cold, dead eyes and smash her into the rocks until they, or she were reduced to dust.

It was Tempest that stopped me from doing just that. I didn't know what I said, I didn't know anything except I was halfway there, and she tackled me, held me. Pinned me down with all her might and made me look at her. Made me see her loving eyes, instead of that creature masquerading as a parent.

It was like a dam breaking, anger and pain and fury and a wash of negative space drowning out sound and color, and light. I felt my mother's pressure, her psychic force buckle beneath mine, and the reverberations of my lamentation brush aside her every feeling, burn into her mind the memory of how badly she hurt me, and how little latitude she had left to do anything but beg forgiveness and hope she was still breathing tomorrow.

She was not my mother. She was a foul, despicable creature who had long lived an empty life with a dried up husk of a heart incapable of emotion. She was not superior to me. She had never been stronger than me, and if it weren't for Tempest, reminding me why I had come in the first place, I would have ripped that cold visage off of her skull and fed it to the murkrows.

Every one of my thoughts was on full display. No. More than that. I was actively pushing them into her psyche. Actively crushing her down, further and further with every breath. Cursing her name. Cursing everything she was.

And then I felt her. The truth of her, behind the mask. The frightened girl, opposite of me. Little more than a fennekin.

I felt her enthusiasm, her exuberance at being a trainer's pokemon. The exhilaration of battle, of victory. The way he looked at her. The way he encouraged her. Getting closer, and closer, and then one night he just needed a little push.

"It's just a kiss, just a lick. Don't you love me? I'm so close, I can't do it without this."

"You're going to do it again. You love me, right? What's that look for? Come on."

"We're doing something different tonight. I'm tired of your tongue."

"What, all these battles and you're crying about that? I thought you were tough. Come on, you can take more."

"Well maybe if you'd evolve, it wouldn't hurt so much. Lay there and be a good girl. I'm going to finish, so you might as well get used to it."

"My friend heard all about you, you little slut. He wants a turn and you're going to give it to him."

"Embarrass me in front of him? Tonight, it's your ass. No. You know what? For the rest of the week you'd better get used to how this feels. We're both going to be using it."

"I'm sick of the way you look at me. I thought you loved me, but you know what, it's fine. I don't need you. Hold her down, I'm taking one last turn before you let him breed her. I'll bury her pokeball after she gives us a new toy to play with. Maybe this one will appreciate how much trouble I go to."

I felt sick. I was going to be sick. There was nothing I could do but roll and heave, the disgust, the humiliation. The fear. The sickening fear of being trapped in a pokeball, buried in the ground, hidden away forever. Nobody to save me. Nobody to know what he'd done. Nobody to stop it from happening again.

I heaved and shuddered and for a moment the whole world spun, and all I could do was cry, lost in the disgust and horror. The scent of her trainer, as fresh in her memory as the day it happened. The scent of blood and dirt and sweat. The disgust, the shame. I threw up, again. Bitter bile and acid, as I sobbed and shook.

Morrigan understood, she saw what Tempest didn't. Knew all too well what I'd just experienced. It had been a moment for me, and a lifetime for her. Her hand on Tempest's shoulder, she moved to pull me into her arms, rocked me in them like I was a child again, held me while I cried. Her tears and mine falling to the dirt, while I trembled and apologized to a phantom of her horrible memories, begged for another chance, anything but that.

She ran away, and kept me. Stole me away from them and kept me safe. All that time she never said a word, never told me how it happened. Only that she loved me and wanted me to be safe. Despite it all, she treated me like I was hers, and cared for me as best as she could.

Morrigan was stronger than I had ever had to be. More compassionate than I could ever understand. My mother... she was a great woman, and she was better to me than I'd ever understood. Braver than I ever knew.

"No. I made mistakes... " She said, running her hand over my head. "You're my daughter, not my possession. I should have understood that sooner. I made so many mistakes. And I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry you had to find that. I'm sorry for everything. For all of this. The whole mess. I'm so sorry!"

I tried to find words, but there just weren't any. For the first time in my memory, I held her. Held my mother, and not the other way around. She sobbed, after a while, her shoulders shaking with the tension she was carrying. I was still angry, I was still so furious, but it was hard to direct that at her. Despite it all, I couldn't... wouldn't let myself stay angry. I was there with a purpose. He'd done everything he could to get me there. She was my best chance, and I knew it.

If not for her sake, then... for his. For mine. She and I could figure things out later. We'd have to. For now, all that mattered was finding the strength to move forward. It was with no small dose of reality that I understood her in that moment. I understood much more than I had before. For her sake, for mine, all that mattered was her finding the strength to move forward. That much, we both could understand.

"Mom... I want you to meet him. I want him to meet you." I said, as I finally found the strength to stand up, pulling her up with me. "So... I need your help, please? I can't close myself off to him, and he can't stop me, at all. It hurts both of us to be apart, and being close is even worse." Morrigan took my cheeks in her trembling hands, and closed the distance, kissing my forehead before she turned to Tempest. "It might take some time, but... you're welcome to stay as long as it takes. I want to hear about how you two met. I can tell you're more than friends."

Tempest nodded mutely, and took my hands, pulling me into her arms as Morrigan... as my mother stood up. She waited patiently, as I wept in Tempest's embrace. Shielded her from everything I was feeling, let me feel the warmth of my best friend, my lover. Let me have time to escape the horror and the pain.

Tempest more or less carried me down the hill, to a quiet spot with a little stream. My mother followed behind, just watched, waited. I was still struggling to escape it all. The thoughts, the sounds, the smell, the feeling of it. Tempest's strong, steady hands washed me, washed away all of it, the whole mess. Pulled me out of it, one gentle reassuring touch at a time.

I didn't remember standing, those first shaky steps leaning heavily on Tempest, her strong arms guiding me into the cave, following my mother, to sit in a comfortable spot, padded by matted grasses, in the fading light that filtered through the openings in the top of the rocks.

For a long time I didn't remember anything, but the sick feeling in my stomach, and being held by my mother. Her tears, and mine, both fell to the ground freely, for very different reasons.

I had been a very foolish girl. I had also been very lucky.

I didn't take any of it back, never. But I appreciated him so much more in that moment. I appreciated everything he was, and everything he wasn't. I loved him, and I was so lucky to have him.