[Gladion hums noncommittally, mentally orbiting the memory of Ingo exploding into blood on that very day. And the thought that he should say something about that. But it's hard to pick one thing to say about it.]
Could have been worse.
[But. You know. Anyways. His ears flick very slightly, as if to listen, at the cue.]
Hmm. That's the biggest problem with it—it's hard to describe exactly what I'm sensing. They don't make words for this. [...] Every plant has its own...signal, you could say. And that signal changes when something happens, like...someone walks past, or a storm rolls in. But—for me, anyways—I never automatically knew what those changes meant. Some things are obviously good, or bad, and the rest have just been a matter of paying attention over time.
[He looks up at the canopy, and then off towards the downward slope.] Right now it's all just...about the rain. Living out here for a while, I got used to all the background noise. You tune out what's normal.
no subject
Could have been worse.
[But. You know. Anyways. His ears flick very slightly, as if to listen, at the cue.]
Hmm. That's the biggest problem with it—it's hard to describe exactly what I'm sensing. They don't make words for this. [...] Every plant has its own...signal, you could say. And that signal changes when something happens, like...someone walks past, or a storm rolls in. But—for me, anyways—I never automatically knew what those changes meant. Some things are obviously good, or bad, and the rest have just been a matter of paying attention over time.
[He looks up at the canopy, and then off towards the downward slope.] Right now it's all just...about the rain. Living out here for a while, I got used to all the background noise. You tune out what's normal.