Nemona. Nemona, Nemona, Nemona.
It seemed like that was all she could think of as of late. At least, ever since the incident in Area 0 a couple weeks before. The treasure hunt was beginning to wrap up proper, as it did every year. Florian had gone back to attending classes regularly, as did the student council president (to maintain her perfect attendance). Even Arven managed to drag himself from his dorm to class more often than before. So what was she doing in here, staring up at her ceiling as the afternoon sun poked through the small opening in the curtains? Thinking about that same council president, of course.
Sylveon lay curled up on the floor beside the bed she rested upon, with Umbreon laying parallel on the bed staring with intense eyes. Her alarm for class had gone off 15 minutes ago. There was no point in going to math at that point. Not that it mattered to her anyway. She never needed the class for anything other than credits in the first place. She didn’t have any other classes set for that day; she could go back to bed right then, right there. But she doesn’t. Instead, she keeps staring at that ceiling hanging above her as her thoughts wander back to…
Nemona.
What was it about her that made her come to mind so often? She’d never been particularly close with the girl. Being in the student council, she figured she associated with those higher up the social hierarchy… like the other council members, the sports players, some of the major clubs. Y’know, things nowhere near where a loner nerd would fall on the grand pyramid of school popularity. Barely anyone even knew she existed, let alone cared enough to talk to her. If they did, they’d be the ones bullying her. Those scoundrels long since dropped out, at her own doing. Through it all, the fact she ended up in her little group far surpassed her expectations. Though, she has Florian to thank for that. Even still, it was Nemona who had pulled her from Florian and Arven that day when they’d been backed into a corner. It was Nemona encouraging, insisting they battle the monsters within the depths of the area together. What did she do to earn this attention? She didn’t see herself as a particularly interesting character. She worked more behind the scenes, running situations hands-off. This couldn’t be more evident in the fact her team’s training left something to be desired. Her Eevees (or Veevees, as she lovingly calls them) were nothing more than pets, really. Penny was not a battler whatsoever, much to the student council girl’s dismay. Penny couldn’t count the times she’d asked her to let her train her team. She hadn’t necessarily declined this offer, but results were yet to be seen… which wasn’t much better. It was odd, though. What did she see in her? What was so different about her in comparison to Florian? Florian, the champion ranked trainer. Florian, rising to the top of the ranks with ease, fighting alongside Meowscarada through and through. Florian, with a passion for battling far greater than hers, a burning perseverance through it all. He’d quelled the crazed AI remnants of the professor, commanding Miraidon in a fight to the finish. And yet… she still drew the attention she never really asked for. She’d never understand it. Unless she asked. Which, no. She is not going to ask Nemona about this. She’s not going to ask Nemona about anything. She’s hard to talk to, and loud, and extremely passionate, and… She’s let her thoughts wander again.
She doesn’t particularly like these thoughts, and their constant cropping up whenever she gets herself going about her… friend? Acquaintance? What really was she to her? They have mutual friends, they have each other’s contacts, they see and talk to each other basically every day. “Friends” seems right, but she doesn’t really have friends outside of the former bosses of Team Star. Or, at least, people she’s considered friends proper. Florian is her friend, thinking about it. She’s fairly certain that there is a rivalry between her and Arven with all their bickering… So what was Nemona? What did she mean to her…?
Time dragged by, making minutes feel like hours. Penny felt weighted to her bed, chained to her thoughts, pressured to press on her own mental rabbit hole. She could be doing productive things right now. She could be doing her indebted league work to Greeta, which she graciously did not give her any sort of deadline for. She could be refilling her partners’ food bowls, giving them pets, feeding them treats. Or… She could be in class, acing a quiz right now. She could be walking out of the classroom, greeting her friends waiting there for her with a grin displayed proudly on her face. She could be walking to lunch with them, talking about how their days had gone. She could be listening to Arven’s rambles on the book he carried around so dutifully before, as well as all its mystical contents he’s studied that proved more real than tale. She could be laughing with Florian about how he so confidently answered that question in Ms. Tyme’s class, only to be dead wrong. This is not the first time these ideas have come to surface… They crop up whenever she’s allowed time to herself. They’ve restrained her in a near miserable state, and have no intent on leaving her. She knows this well, as the idea of getting herself out there having haunted her ever since Operation Starfall was an overwhelming success. She still rarely manages the confidence to hang out with her fellow Star Boss friends beyond watching from afar with Florian. Which didn’t happen. That is a hypothetical way of interacting with her friends that never actually happened. Totally.
Embarrassed at the thought of her own picture perfect life, she grabs a pillow and puts it over her head. Unbelievable. Fantasizing about a reality so within reach, she could accomplish it with a single action? A single step out the door, and it could be hers. Neglect of her own feelings for a small escape. And she remembers. Her grandiose plan lacks a constant in her life she cannot shake. It lacks…
Nemona. Nemona, Nemona, Nemona. Hold your own, Nemona.
And it loops back to her. The student council girl, talented beyond her years. Brilliant, top of her classes, champion rank at only 16 years old, and attractive to boot, hanging around a reclusive tech guy like her. It made no logical sense and yet… What made even less sense was the thought process she’d been brought to. Attractive? Since when did she feel that way? It could be taken literally, as she seemed to make friends in just a conversation. But also… She lit up a room like the sun peeking through the foggiest days in Galar. It was almost magical the way she could uplift those around her. There was no way to be gloomy with the sun next to you. Though she knows about Icarus, and will not be one to fall. These feelings and thoughts could only be put into strange assortments of words, metaphors from books she’d read. Ways to comprehend and fit them into the puzzle. Ways to…
She’s been stuck in her head for far too long already. She can tell. It’s gotten metaphorical, and it only spirals from there. She pulls herself out of her commentary. Her phone projects a soft blue onto her face in its low brightness as she pulls it from her hoodie pocket. Disabling the “do not disturb” setting she’s turned on after being awakened on-time for her class, notifications streamed in as if digital floodgates had been opened. Minutes may have felt like hours, but her class was at noon. It was 1:54, and the notifications scrolled endlessly with texts and missed calls. Some from their “sandwich gang” group chat, others from the Star group chat. Most of all there were texts and missed calls from… Nemona. There was one 20 minutes after her class began. Another 15 minutes later. Another, another, and another… Nemona had called so urgently she would’ve thought someone had died. It seemed like everyone had tried to contact her when she didn’t show up to class, but hadn’t bothered to stop by. She sunk back into her comfortable spot, reconsidering pulling herself out of bed at the thought. Another call rings before she finds herself getting too comfortable. The contact ID hangs over her, shackling her with an odd sense of guilt. She stares at the screen, unmoving. It rings. And rings. And rings.