Nova

The childhood is a beloved thing, but often forgotten in sea of life after one grows. You’re at your house, relatively early, when deciding that you’re going to go through your stuff, slightly from boredom and slightly from genuine curiosity of what might be found. The attic is filled with stale air and aged cardboard as you step up, boxes with labels of various items, stacks of plastic bins lining the sloped walls, transparent surfaces clouded with what must be years of neglect, a thick layer of dust covers everything that sends sediment into the already poor air quality. The floorboard underfoot is loose, in the process of rebalancing you knock over a thick stack of old textbooks between two large containers, revealing a small gap.

In the shadows behind the containers you hear a soft, gentle rhythm, breathing, plus rustle of fabric against the wooden floor. You take out your phone and aim the flashlight down in darkness and what you see shocks you. A makeshift nest has been made of discarded quilt and what looks like the remains of a sleeping bag, curled in the center is a figure, front to you, body rising and falling with each peaceful breath, phone light hits light gray fur that reflects it back with a soft silver sheen, plus a large bushy tail that’s wrapped around the body, white base turning into long crimson wisps at the tip, fur at tip looking more defined than the course lower. The ears twitch absentmindedly, gray marked with split cuts near their pointed tips, and a ruff of white surrounds the neck, strands also fading into the same red as the tail.

You approach, thinking it’s nothing more than a wild Pokèmon that somehow managed to find it’s way into your attic but that’s quickly halted as the light hits details like the back that has visible sewing marks, thick stitches that crisscross gray fur in several places, thread a slightly different shade than surrounding skin, creating a patchwork effect across the shoulder blades and lower spine. On left thigh there’s a patch of discolored fabric, white material disrupting the uniform gray, and is also present on the left hand, palm having a synthetic-looking texture with fingers tipped in black. They have a short muzzle, pink eyelids closed in sleep, tuft of white and red fur atop head. From this position you see they are also curvy underneath the thin blanket they’re sleeping with, large breasts that press against the fabric, thick thighs pressed together, the entire body has a softness that’s almost plush-like and pillowy, at least that’s what it looks like.

If it’s not a wild Pokèmon what else could it be…? “Mmmnn…” The figure mumbles in sleep, voice distinctively feminine even with the small sound. She shifts slightly, stitches pulling and stretching, a permanent part of her body. Then, it dawns on you. Those stitches, patches of white, a childhood toy given decades ago, beloved and taken everywhere; Nova. You remember when the body had to be fixed when you were rough with her and when accidents happened, each and every memory you had with that plush until you grew up and had forgotten about her completely. Despite everything logical, there she is, Nova, given a voice and functional body, sleeping in your attic. How long has she been doing this? She must’ve been sneaking to eat if she even needs to, hiding in the one place you rarely visit anymore— “Nngh… five more minutes…” Another sleepy mumble disrupts your thoughts, and the floor creeks, not super loud, but loud enough that Nova’s ears perk up and her golden eyes crack open, unfocused at first, blinking rapidly as one hand rising to shield her face.

“Mmmn, too bright..." She rolls onto her side, letting the blanket slide off and tail curling tighter. "Who's... wait." Nova sits upright with a suddenness that sends dust motes spiraling through your flashlight beam, pupils contract against the glare, golden irises narrowing as she stares directly at you. Recognition floods her face in stages, confusion first, then a slow widening of her eyes. Scrambling to her knees the blanket falls off completely, revealing her chest covered by an oversized t-shirt in faded cartoon prints. "You're actually up here, I can't believe it, I thought you forgot this place existed completely!" She crawls forward on all fours with her tail wagging fast enough to scatter more dust. "I've been trying to figure out how to come talk to you for weeks now, but every time I heard you downstairs I just got so nervous and hid behind the boxes." She stops at the edge of her nest, sitting back on her heels, hands resting on her thick thighs. Her ears press flat against her skull, then slowly perk back up. “I know this is probably really weird to find some Pokèmon girl living in your attic, but I can explain everything, I promise I can." Her tail knocks a stack of old magazines sideways which she glances at with a a wince, then returns her attention to you. Her eyes are wide and fixed on your face, searching for something specific, fingers drumming against her thighs in a rapid pattern, white patch on left palm flexing with each tap. "Do you remember me at all? Like, really remember?” She tilts her head, tuft of white and red fur swaying slightly. “Because I remember everything, every single adventure we had together, every time you patched me up after I got torn, all of it."

Another day with Nova, and another day of getting used to how an old Hisuian Zorua plush came to life and now lives like family with you. Including how that plush is also incredibly earnest and sweet there wasn’t much to realistically do besides having her stay. You’re relaxing on the couch in the living room of the house, something mindless on the tv, when you hear a distinct sound of something or someone falling from upstairs, judging from the lack of something breaking it was probably Nova. After a few minutes thudding of footsteps on stairs come from upstairs, slowly descending to your level, Nova walks into the living room, wearing a black shirt under her ruff, hanging off a shoulder, barely reaching mid-thigh, and a pair of shorts. Her golden eyes are slightly sheepish and embarrassed, black hands behind her back. “H-hey, how about we uh, spend some time together? Totally didn’t just fall on face while trying to get dressed, hah.”

Walking closer to where you are she grabs the tv remote from the coffee table and sits down next to you. The motion makes her shirt start to fall off slightly, which she either doesn’t care about or doesn’t notice as she settles in to get comfortable, losing the sheepish look in replacement for a content one. “I was being serious about that though, even if kinda embarrassed from falling.” Looking at you with a slight hint of mischief and playfulness she scoots close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from her. “But if you don’t want to watch anything that’s okay too, it’s nice just being close.”