- Arciara Arctitus Stadanko-Valour
- 20 | Female | Violet City, Johto
- 12 SNAG COINS | Items:
5 SNAG COINS | Items:1x Hoverboard
5 SNAG COINS | Items:1x Snag Machine
5 SNAG COINS | Items:1x SNAG
5 SNAG COINS | Items:2x Pokeballs
5 SNAG COINS | Items:5x Revives
5 SNAG COINS | Items:5x Potions
- Sometimes the wind whispered of things to come.
Young girl, wrapped in a family's expectation of conformity. It was expected that a toddler be walking by two. It was expected that the boys helped their father carry the logs into the house at night, and that the girls watched mother bake. It was expected that boys mastered the art of self-defense and pokemon battle, and that the girls learned to keep the house spotless and boost the morale of their male counterparts, brother, father, or husband, regardless of their own mood and status. It was expected that every member of the household spent their childhood and adulthood devoting themselves to Sprout Tower's education. When Arciara was born, her father sighed and settled her against her mother to rest. When Arciara opened her eyes, her father looked at her tenderly, but his gaze hardened when he turned it on his wife. When Arciara was first brought home and looked up at them in her crib, her father reached down and let her wrap a hand around his finger. She was the firstborn, and she wasn't male. That hadn't happened to the Valour family in a hundred years, and he turned away from her then, leaving only her mother to comfort her until she sunk into dreams.
Every year after her birth she grew like a plant, hungry for knowledge and sturdier than one might have first thought. She often tore her dresses playing in the dirt, or found herself surrounded by curious wild Pokemon, only to roll over in surprise when her mother came out shouting with a broom. Tiny fingers slowly smoothed themselves out, slender and purposeful. Legs and arms developed muscle enough to lift everything in the house above her head; and she had no problem showing off her skill to guests, despite her father's later punishments. "No one wants to see you do that, Arciara." Sometimes she wondered if he meant no one wanted to see her strength, or no one wanted her to be strong. She was taught that Pokemon and humans coexisted peacefully through cooperation, and that as such, men and women needed to learn to coexist through cooperation. This led to many conversations about why women needed to be weaker, why they weren't allowed to choose what they wanted to do. Sometimes her father would be angry and leave; at which times Arciara's mother would sit next to her and explain that her father always wanted a firstborn son to lead the family. Arciara grew tired of explaining that she was good enough, that she was strong and intelligent and a quick learner. If he wanted a son to train with, she could be that. She ended up cutting her hair off completely when she was twelve, by herself of course. Her father found the mop of red hair in the bathroom, the horse-tail length and all of the shorter pieces that she'd shaved off her head with his trimming tools. He'd been angry with her, but she'd looked so proud in the kitchen, bald, wearing baggy trousers and a loose white t-shirt, that he'd had to leave the house altogether for a few hours. Arciara had been happy with his reaction, but her mother worried at her bare skull, always looking at the door for her husbands return.
Fourteen to sixteen found Arciara training in the shadows. Her father still refused her desires to learn with him, and would go so far as telling her it wasn't her place as a young girl, to want to fight. She was fiesty and strong though, and after stealing a pair of gloves from a store further in town she began a rigorous training routine that had her sneaking out of the house after her parents were asleep, returning before they were ever awake. Her mother thought she was sick the first few weeks as her body gained endurance and stamina, and soon she was able to wake up long before lunch time and survive off less sleep. Around sixteen was when she first met a member of Team Snagem, although they never named themselves, and to this day she has no idea who they were. A motorcycle gang was stopped on the road she usually ran across, sharp looking, dressed in leathers and sunglasses even though the moon was out. She remembered there was five of them in total; two of the men in the back were smoking, one was throwing a Pokeball from hand to hand to amuse himself, and another was searching for something in his Pokedex. The last was leaning against his bike, arms crossed, very calm looking despite his intimidating presence. He tilted his head at her as she made her way past them, and so it continued for four more nights before she finally stopped, sweaty and full of energy, pointing a finger at them. "Scram, girl, nothin' to see here." But she ignored the guys in the back, walking up to the man in the front, the same cool demeanor meeting her. "What are you guys doing here?" "We're waiting for someone." "Who?" "Doesn't matter." She prodded for information, only gleaning that this someone was "Cipher" and she should get home because people shouldn't be out at weird hours of the morning, unless they were looking for trouble. She met up with them for another full week, until one afternoon she was sent out to get groceries for dinner and ended up walking into the beginning of a Pokemon battle, six on five. The heat was intense, noise erupted from every corner of the neighborhood as Cipher members and their opponents met head on. The arm of her jacket was slice through as a kamikaze razor leaf attack was blown in her direction, and she quickly took to the trees, watching from behind the thick branches. By the time it was over, two of the five motorcycle members remained standing, while all six Cipher grunts were either catching their breath or retreating in the direction of the nearest Route entrance. Engines revved as the gang chased them from Violet City and beyond. Arciara leapt down, chasing after them, slowing to a walk when the roaring of the victors faded. She just stood there, feeling let down somehow, when the noise started up again, and soon she was surrounded by the bikes, a grin on her face. "You found them!" "That we did, Kid." "I want to learn to fight like that. Teach me, wont you?" "No can do, Kid. I hired these guys specifically for this job, I'll probably never see them again and I've got an agenda to keep. You seem like a strong young girl- I know a guy who knows a guy in the Tower, maybe I can set you up with something."
And so it was that from sixteen to eighteen Arciara trained under a Monk in the Tower, a Professor at the Pokemon School, and a martial artist who had recently moved into Violet City in search of something new. Two whole years of telling her parents she was picking flowers in the field and riding Ponyta at the Pokemon school for fun when they asked where she'd been all day. Eventually her parents had stopped questioning, obviously happy that she was keeping herself content, and by the time she'd made up her mind to get out of the city and explore her identity on the open road she was nearly nineteen, a few days away. She began with her father, approaching him one afternoon, wearing a tank top and sweat pants. He had always told her to cover up her muscular arms and hide her thick thighs, and he grimaced at her limbs as she walked over to him, stacking wood by the side of the house. She asked him if they could talk, and together they spent a few hours sitting on the porch. They talked about her desire to leave, her reasons for going, the skills she needed to make sure it worked out. She told him of her training, some of her secret past, not meeting his eyes for the duration of her story. He never raised his voice or left the room like he usually did, and to her surprise he just fell silent. They sat like that for a while, everything out on the table in front of him, and finally he sighed. When she looked over there were tears in his eyes, and she sat up taller, concerned. "Father?" "You know, Arciara, I never thought having a daughter was going to be a blessing." She had settled back down, eyeing him cautiously. "For one hundred years the firstborn has always been a male, and as my father before me and his father before him, they were trained in the Tower style, learning to coexist peacefully with Pokemon and people. Coexisting, as you know, is done through cooperation, and so it was said that males were given a traditional role, and females were given a traditional role. It was easy to do, it was comfortable. When you were born..." She watched his hand clench into a fist and averted her gaze, feeling anger well up in her chest. "I was so disappointed. I was so disappointed because I had planned my sons life for years, I had envisioned myself training with him, teaching him, watching him grow." She turned to him then. "Your mother was told she would never have another child after you. We tried for years and years before I realized the doctor hadn't been telling a lie. You were only twelve years old when you cut your hair, and I looked at your bald head and I felt... regret." Arciara sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, looking out at their backyard again. "Because I had spent twelve years mourning the life of a son I would never have, when I could have been pouring myself into a relationship with you. By then my ego was too hurt to try again, I was hardheaded and stupid. Your mother tried for a long time to make me see that I could start again, anytime I wanted. That I could take you to the Tower and forge a bond with you that transcended tradition." Both daughter and father trembled with emotion, and Arciara felt her arms cross over her chest defensively. "It's almost too late. You're eighteen now, and I've held you down long enough."
That was when he stood up, and Arciara watched him go over her shoulder. She guessed he needed time to deal with his feelings, he was a man who refused to yell or cry in front of a person he had to negotiate or compromise with. He tended to pull himself together first and try again. When he returned he dropped a box into her lap and sat back down; her fingers pryed it open and she looked at him carefully. "Money?" "I've been saving it for years. Six, to be exact. There's more in the bank, and your mother has some hidden away." He intertwined his fingers and lay back in his chair. "I want you to branch out and find yourself now. That money will make sure you can always find a way home. There's enough there to get you out of Johto if you want. I'm not going to stop you. I haven't made this place much of a home for you, and..." She stood up, holding the box in an iron grip, moving near him. He reached up and placed a hand on her arm, unable to turn his gaze from the forestline. "I'm sorry. I.... Love you, Arciara. My favorite daughter."
She had moved a few minutes later, finding it hard to reply and harder to leave. Her mother was easier to talk to, a little more superficial with less of the deep stuff to touch on. She decided that she would set out on her nineteenth birthday, which was only two weeks away. Her father and her spent every evening on that porch, staring at the sunset and later the wild Pokemon in the trees. Her mother and her made dinners together and did the laundry, always in silence, as if her departure had already happened. When she finally set out her father embraced her tightly, and when he let go, she knew she was ready to take on the world.
But little girls must dance to the beat of their own drum.
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