Lull

[Mallymkun]

A Gabite with a gun. Now I've seen everything.

Lane's dream is turning darker and more mightmare-y by the minute. And like the above poster pointed out, is Lance dead in Lane's eyes now? Is that significant? I think so, somehow.

Anyway, now I that I do think about it, Dawn in your story reminds me a lot of Galinda from Wicked. That's pretty cool.

 

[Breezy]

A Gabite with a gun. Now I've seen everything.

Lane's dream is turning darker and more mightmare-y by the minute. And like the above poster pointed out, is Lance dead in Lane's eyes now? Is that significant? I think so, somehow.

Anyway, now I that I do think about it, Dawn in your story reminds me a lot of Galinda from Wicked. That's pretty cool.

Tee hee. And if you want to think that ... er, Lance being dead in Lane's eyes. Depends on your perspective. =P I'll leave it at that.

I've actually never seen or read Wicked so I'm not sure what kind of character Galinda is, though after reading a short bio on her, I can totally see how Dawn is like her.

Thanks for reviewing!

Well, this was a very interesting read. ^^ I just love Dawn's personality. The whole analysis of how humanoid Pokemon came to be is some interesting insight. I like it, the comparison of Chansey to Lane's Mother is pretty cool too.
Very interesting dream sequence, Lance is now "dead" in Lane's eyes? I wonder. Very interesting choice in using a Gabite when you could choose so many other dragons... And I'm pretty sure a shotgun wouldn't be very accurate in killing Pokemon, at least at the height of Goldenrod department store. But it is an interesting weapon choice. But it could also be an important thing to the bigger picture.
Very interesting chap, gives me a lot to think about.
jirachiman out ;385;

I'm glad you liked the analysis of the humanoid pokemon followed by the comparison of the chansey to Alyson.

The gabite was kind of random. Well, not really. I wanted a pokemon that's from sinnoh and a pokemon that Lance would want to catch. Why I made it deranged, who knows? =P

Thanks for reviewing. =)

 

[Breezy]

I'm trying to deal with it. Arceus knows I'm trying.

I said earlier that I like to be alone. That's true. But I also know I'm better off that way. Everyone else is better off that way. Over dramatic? A little.

It's just ...

I know what I went through. It's taken me quite some time to understand what happened two years ago. In some ways, I still can’t wrap my mind around it. I still have a lot of issues to work out. I understand how detrimental other people can be. I don't want to do that to others. I refuse to burden them with my problems. I don't want to recreate the ill-effects the people I trusted did to me.

In a strange way, it's me caring for others by not caring for others.

...

Possible ability: Inner focus – the user is protected from flinching.

~ ~ ~
Chapter Nine
~ ~ ~

They lived in a house in a tropical location. It was either Hoenn or the Sevii Islands. All Lane knew was that he had to jump on the tops of large, flat stones that rested in the river to get to his house made out of shiny planks of dark wood. The water was freezing, making his toes turn into raisins.

... Not literally, of course.

He distinctly remembered the waterfall in the background complete with rainbow above as he went inside. The air was humid and hard to breathe. They were having some sort of family party. Aunt Beatrice was there (blech!) with her hairy mole on the right side of nose, and she went over, wrapped her arms around him, and smooched him on the cheek. He broke free and skipped toward the backyard's porch where his dad was preparing the grill for a barbecue.

“Your cousin is in the house. See if she has the meat ready,” he told him.

He ran back in and somehow ended up at a laundry room. He pushed the door open a little, hearing it squeak, and saw his older cousin crying and fussing over something.

“Is the food ready?” he asked.

“I can't do it,” she cried. “Tell Uncle that I can't do it!” She ran off, brushing past him.

Lane looked down the hallway toward the glass doors where his dad was flipping a few hamburger patties onto the grill. He walked into the laundry room, standing on tippy-toe to peer into the open washing machine. A ponyta was in it, folded and curled around the center. Two of its hooves stuck out above the top. He saw the horse's eyes, two brown, round things. They blinked back at him.

~ ~ ~​

“You go in first,” she urged.

He looked back at her. “Are you nuts?” he muttered, facing forward again.

“Chicken,” was her quick reply.

Lucas and Dawn stood in front of the rotting fence that bordered Harbor Inn.

“Well, you go in if you're so brave,” he retorted.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because in the movie of life, I am the wise character.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, that one girl who changes the life of the protagonist by pushing him to do idiotic things.”

“I'm the protagonist?”

“Yes.”

“You must have some sort of self-confidence issue if you diminish your role to supporting character in the movie that is your life.”

“Prolly.” She smiled.

“So you go in first.”

“I am 'l-o-l-ing' from your command. Really.”

“Please don't Internet acronym around me ever again.”

“Fine, as long as you don't turn nouns into words again.”

“Words?”

“Verbs. I meant verbs.”

“Then what about words like 'cook?' Or ' judge?'”

“You know what I mean. Stop being a meanie.”

He rolled his eyes, resting his hands on the fence's gate. He gave it a slight push, and the gate opened slowly with a squeak, the bottom getting tangled in the weeds as it scraped backward into the lawn. “What's the big deal anyway?” he asked more to himself than the girl next to him. “It's just some old building.”

“Supposedly haunted,” she added, crossing her arms. “With ghosts.”

“Compared to other spiritual beings?”

“I think ghouls haunt buildings.”

“Which are ghosts.”

“No, silly. A ghost is, like, the soul of someone departed that lingers around for the ‘lulz’.”

“I thought you were going to stop that.”

“I lied. Anyway, a ghoul steals bodies or something.”

“So why would a ghoul be in a building that is empty?”

“To wait for stupid people to go in. But like I said, ghosts. Not ghouls. No worries.” She gave him a thumb's up and clicked her tongue.

He sighed. “Come on.”

Lucas took a step forward, sneakers squashing ants. Dawn was on his heels, her head turning left and right in paranoia. Dandelions grew up between the cracks of the concrete pathway. He kicked one down, and the white seeds released themselves from the stem and twirled around his ankles. Dawn let out a small giggle.

“They tickle,” she said, bending over a bit to brush her bare legs.

The porch's wooden steps creaked as the two climbed up. Lucas examined the door, the jagged lines that zigzagged across the ancient wood. He focused in on the rusted knob. “Locked,” he assumed. He stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around it. A jiggle. A nudge. “Yep.” He gave the door a light kick, making it thud.

Dawn jumped off the porch to the side, standing ankle deep in weeds. She kicked them down with her heavy boots and approached the broken window. “Here. Maybe you can enter through here.” She brushed a broken shard off the windowsill and it fell near her feet, shimmering in Sinnoh's hot afternoon sun. She looked up, her eyes squinting, and gazed at the sky. It was a deep blue touched by a puff of white. The hot air was suffocating in a way, making her sleepy.

Lucas ignored her par usual as he fumbled with something in his pocket. She sighed. Another brilliant idea wasted. She looked back toward the window. The wind was light today, barely making the thick, red curtains in front of the window shift, so she moved them for nature, the cloth feeling oddly sticky and wet under her fingertips.

No ghosts. No motion. Nothing.

Inside was dark. From what she could make out from the sunlight that streamed in was old furniture – the form of a sunken couch, a kitchen table standing proudly on four legs, a wooden staircase with broken posts. Lots of broken glass. Lots of splintered wood. It smelled like a public bathroom.

And then there was Lucas. He blinked a couple of times, staring at her in bewildered expression.

“What the heck?” she asked more to herself than the boy standing inside the inn. “How did you get in?”

He nudged his head toward the entrance, the door wide and open, letting the cool ocean breeze blow in and out. It was like the inn's first exhale after a long time of holding its breath.

“You said it was locked!”

He held up a pocket knife and folded it back into its base, slipping it back into his pocket.

“You think something so simple would have been done by other people trying to enter and fix this place,” she murmured, an eyebrow raised up.

“Or maybe no one cares,” he replied.

“Something like that.” Dawn left the window alone and took one huge step to get back onto the porch. She tentatively approached the door, the hair on her arms pricking up, and entered slowly, one hand grasping the solid, wooden door frame. Her hair swung around her right shoulder as she leaned in, inhaling and exhaling in quick, short breaths. “See anything?” she asked.

He turned his head. “Dust,” he said.

“And?”

“Furniture.”

“And?”

“Rope.”

“The fiend.”

Lucas took a step back from the window and gave it a good look up and down. I saw him just when he was about to climb in. He couldn't have looked in for more than five seconds. His brow furrowed. He turned around, narrowed his focus. In direct line of sight, the view from the window to the back of the room was unobstructed. Nothing seemed ... odd, out of place. There was the long kitchen table that fed many a sailor; the lumpy couch used as a place for achy feet to relieve themselves; and the clock on the wall, long dead, its bronze roman numerals catching the light depending on what angle Lucas looked at it. They were your typical items seen in any bed-and-breakfast setting.

The floorboards under his feet groaned as he walked past the kitchen table. Soon enough he reached the other end of the Inn. He looked down. A collection of mold was growing from the bottom of the wall. There were droppings, dry, round, and hard, scattered here – everywhere really. Pokémon had taken habitat in the old inn but not for a while; they were most likely rodent types given the shape and size of the fecal matter. As far as he knew, rodents had limited attacks that used their eyes besides the common Leer to scare away predators and Foresight to help them see in the dark. Hypnosis wasn't one of them.

“Anything?” Dawn asked from the door. “Anything, you know, unusual?”

Lucas didn't like to be believe in the unusual. To be more specific, the truly unexplainable–rather, the answers to the unexplainable that are created out of thin air–are things that bug him the most. They tell him that the unexplainable answer–the myth–has a basis of logic, but do these answers truly appear for these people? Or do these people look toward anything for an answer?

Eldritch was so adamant about “eyes in the inn.” This was a man who, too, knew stories but did not necessarily believe in them, and yet he was sure that his boy and his mention of eyes had something to do with something.

He shook his head, his right hand tightly holding the brim of his hat. He turned his head, his chin resting on shoulder, and looked at the window again, its curtain slightly flapping, letting in the sun. Yawn, however accurate it may be, would be hard to see from such a distance and from the limited light. No, it couldn't be Yawn. And what about birds, pokémon that commonly use sound-based attacks to lull their foes? Well, it's not very likely they would take solace in such a cramped and damp area, especially if rodents were living here, too.

What the heck was he doing here? It's obvious that this location has nothing to do with Lane's state. He had to have done something else that day ... Heck, he had better things to do today.

“The Harbor Inn,” Dawn said as she slowly crept in, releasing the door frame from her grasp. The floorboard creaked and ached underneath her feet as she walked toward him. “You've heard about this place, right?”

He nodded.

“Were you around when it was open?”

He gave her a look, his lips in a small frown and his eyes rolling to the side.

“Oh, don't give me that,” she muttered. “Maybe you're actually fifty instead of fourteen. The bags under your eyes certainly tell me you're old.” She grinned and stood on tippy toe, patting his hat down, making him wrinkle his nose. “You know, sailors back in the day used this place as a makeshift home. You know, between trips.”

“Obviously.”

“And one day it just closed down.”

“Just closed down?”

“Like the owner died or something like that. He had no kids or a wife or any sort of family nearby, so I guess they just closed it.”

“Awesome.” Lucas shoved his hands into his pocket par usual his fidgety self and shifted his weight from the heels to the balls of his feet. The floorboards groaned with each rock back. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well ... Maybe it's because the building is so old and run down, but people believe this place is haunted.”

“You told me that earlier. We got into a debate about ghosts versus ghouls, remember?”

“I know, I know.” She waved this off. “But I was reading that myths book – stop giving me that look, Lucas. I was reading that book, and it went into the story about this place. I didn't finish it, but I read how when there is a new moon, people sense that there is some sort of spiritual thing inside.”

He sighed. “So?”

“Soooooo it went on to say that when people cross paths with this place around new moon time–like really close ... like look into the window close–they say funny things happen to them.”

“Such as?”

“I dunno. It never really detailed it. Just things. Kind of sounds like what Eldritch told you, doesn't it?”

“I'm sure he picked up that story from someone else, who picked up that story from someone else, and so on. It doesn't make it true that it's known throughout the locals.”

“Just sayin'. That's not my point. Both stories relate to the moon. Can you think of any pokémon that respond to different moon patterns? Maybe the pokémon that attacked Lane is active during the new moon phase which explains why we may not be able to find it now.”

He racked his brain. “Clefairy, but they are associated with the full moon. Same applies to the lunatone species in Hoenn. I'll have to look into it. Interesting development, though. It could help explain things.” Lucas looked at the girl and, with a loud exhale, said, “Nice find, Dawn.”

She beamed. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Well.” He turned around (out of embarrassment or because he was still looking for traces of pokémon, who knows) and examined the wall. There were scratch marks cut into the moldy, now brown, plaster. There was a pile of dead leaves and sticks in the corner that managed to remain relatively untouched by the sweeping winds – he thought too soon. The ocean breeze brushed through and stirred up the dirt and droppings in small circles around the floor. “At least we have a lead up on something. Let's go look out–” A loud creak caught his attention, so he snapped his head to the right, noticing that the girl was scurrying up the stairs. A sigh. “Get down here.”

Dawn looked back, one hand gripping the stair rail, and said, “No,” quite cheerfully before starting her ascent. Lucas lost sight of her when she got further up, her mud-caked boots the last he saw of her. He could hear her loud thumps from downstairs, the way she hurriedly walked to and fro from room to room without caring that she was disturbing something so ancient and sleepy. That and she could easily break something with her questionable (“I am not fat!” he imagined her screeching) weight.

You drive me nuts, he thought bitterly as he followed after her, noting how some steps seemed caved in and how the rails of the stairs were splintered or completely broken. Every step he took made the stairs below him groan, so he was careful, delicately tapping the step with the balls of his feet. He didn't bother holding the rail; it shook harder the further he got up, the wood-on-wood making a hollow sound, like plastic wind chimes.

He pitied her in a way. She was smart–kind of, in her own way–but still so incredibly naïve about everything. She trusted so much, she believed in so much; she thought the best of people. It truly was pathetic.

He made it upstairs and crept into the first room on his right, standing in the doorway. It was a bedroom filled with a pair of bunk beds. Between the two beds was a window with faded lace curtains, thick with dust. Dawn was there, one knee perched on the small mahogany dresser drawer between the beds. Her other foot was planted firmly on the wooden floor. Her hands were holding the curtains open as she gazed upon the outside world.

Her amusement in things was so simple – folk stories, the view from a window ... people. Why was she so interested in people? Why did she care about the bonds between people and pokémon, between people and people? What was the point of trying to get to know someone? They're bound to hurt you. You're bound to hurt them. Why do it? Why risk it?

She turned her head slightly and smiled. “I knew you'd follow, chicken,” she teased. She turned back around. He watched as she arched her back, her hair draping behind her, the sunlight casting her body in its radiance.

Most people are malevolent. That neighbor down the block who used to give the best Halloween candy is now on trial for attempted murder over something so unbelievably superficial. The doctor of a pokémon center stole pokémon from the trainers who trusted him to “heal, not harm.” Your best friend, who tried so hard to be the best he could be, had his spirits crushed down by a person he hadn't even met because “he was an annoying pest in the way.” And that woman–your supposed mentor, that one person you should be able to trust out of anyone–just ... just threw the world onto your shoulders so she could be concerned with other things. That pathetic girl, the one so stupidly staring outside the window, would tell him that woman meant well, that the woman had faith in him, that the woman knew he was responsible and powerful and smart. Dawn would tell him that the woman trusted him one-hundred-and-one percent.

Why couldn't she see that life isn't all smiles? Why couldn't she see that people are out for themselves? Why couldn't she see that the hidden motive behind action is selfishness, not the good of the other human?

It bemused him. He hated it.

“Come here, you. This place has an awesome view of the sea. You can almost see those islands.”

As he approached and stood behind her, breathing in a mixture of her sweet, flowery shampoo and dust, he couldn't help but wonder why she bothered sticking around. Try as he might to not get close to her–to be as repelling as possible, to be her antithesis, someone who she couldn't stand to be around–she was still here. And she still cared for him.

(Granted, he had only been back in the area for three weeks or so. That surely couldn't be enough time to fully repulse a person, right?)

He wouldn't do the same for her. He couldn't care for her. Things are better off that way. She needed to grow up.

The sea met the sky in glorious shades of blue, two vastly different things that looked like one individual piece sewed together. One was stable, the other dependent on wind and gravity. There were the islands, green and brown beacons that stood sturdy in the ocean's flailing waves. He figured there was symbolism (everything is symbolic if you try), but his thoughts were on other things. On her. Goddammit.

“One is Fullmoon. The other is Newmoon,” she said, her body rocking back and forth slightly, her hair brushing against his crossed arms. “I forget that other one near it.” She pointed, smudging the already dirty glass. “Named after a metal, I think.”

“Iron,” he replied.

“That's it.” He saw her smile in the reflection. “Why do people go there?”

“Training,” he answered. “I went there for training.”

“I think I read something about them in my myths book.” She patted her bag hanging from her shoulder. “I'll look when we're back at the library. Wanna leave now?”

“Yeah.”

She dropped her knee and stood back on her two feet, twisting around to face the boy and looked him up and down. Bags were under his eyes. His posture was slouched. His clothes were wrinkled. He looked so ... tired. “I'm ... sorry, Lucas.” She had no idea why she was apologizing. It just felt like the right moment to say it.

Of course he would ask, his head slightly tilted: “For what?”

“For ... I dunno. I just noticed how tired you look. I mean, just when you were about to leave for that battling thing after doing all of Rowan's work ... well, you know. I know you just want to have relax.” Her nose wrinkled. “I know you don't really like me.”

He stared at a few seconds. “I never said that,” he said slowly, carefully.

“No, but I know I'm not your most favorite person in the world either.” She gave him a weepy grin, forced and sympathetic. “So I'm sorry. And thank you. For staying, I mean.”

Another awkward, “Yeah,” came out of Lucas’s mouth after a few seconds of contemplative silence.

Never underestimate silence. It says so much without saying anything at all. For Lucas, it told the person he was talking to how awkward he felt ... which he was most of the time. In other instances, it was a forewarning of things to come. The tension in the air, the shallow breaths … Your sight somehow becomes clearer. All sounds are magnified.

And as her face came closer to his, her once sticky, lip-glossed lips now dry (though there were still remnants of glitter), he couldn't help but notice how freaking loud his heartbeat was. Could she hear that? He noticed how her head tilted slightly to the right, her eyes starting to close. Why was his head doing the same? Why was she leaning in?

Did time suddenly slow down?

What was going on?

“What.” Lucas quickly took a step back, making Dawn open her eyes, snap back, and regain her composure. What a stupid thing to say. What did that even mean, what?

The two stood there in silence for a few seconds, quietly reflecting on what the heck almost happened. For once it was Lucas who broke the awkward silence.

“Library?” he asked.

The look of disappointed she had last night flashed across her face again, and she blinked, and it was gone. “Yeah,” she said, once again uncharacteristically quiet. She gave him a weird face, something he couldn't really place a finger on–kind of worried, curious, and disgusted at the same time–and brushed past him, her shoulder hitting his, making him move back a bit. “Let's go.”

~ ~ ~​

She should have known darn better than that. You spend so much time studying a guy, and you know he doesn't like you (at least in the way you like him), but you, being the stupid girl that you are, think otherwise. You think, for some split second in a moment of weakness, that he's going to kiss you back. Dawn, what the heck? You just ... you just tried to kiss him, didn't you? Are you insane? What good would that do you? Oh, my god. You're ... oh, my god. But he was going to kiss back! You saw it, the way he leaned in, too, before quickly pulling away, alarmed. Isn't that more important?

She refused to look up from her book, the setting sun her reading lamp. The concrete was the only way she could tell if she was going to walk into anything. She guessed Lucas would say something but–

Oh, my god, you just tried to kiss him. Idiot!

The concrete underfoot changed from plain gray speckled with dry gum to cobblestone that felt pleasant underneath the soles of her boots. They were approaching the library (she could hear the water fountains that decorated the outside of the building). She heard the glass doors opening and someone walking past them. She felt the cold of the air conditioner mix in with the warmer autumn heat around her. She smelled the distinct scent of aged books with thick, yellowing paper in them. Ah, the library. A place of solace, quiet. A place to get away from your thoughts–

Dawn, why the heck did you do that? She mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Repeatedly.

At least the book was interesting. As they entered the library (she noted the rough welcoming mat followed by the library's polished wooden floors from underneath the book), she started to re-read that one myth she told Lucas earlier.

He almost kissed back, right?

She had to look up from her book, but only slightly, to make sure she didn't trip over her feet while climbing up the stairs. Lucas (oh, god, she made things more awkward between them now. Good job, Dawn) held back and let the girl climb up first, one hand lightly sliding up the handrail and her other hand held out flat so she could balance the open book on it. They skipped past the second floor and then the third before finally stopping on the fourth. The books Lucas (god, you're such an idiot for doing that, Dawn!) had pulled out were still on the table sitting in its nice, neat stack. She felt him move from behind her before walking past to take his regular seat, the wooden chair on the right. She let her eyes wander up, watching as he took off his backpack and hung it around the chair's back before plopping himself in the seat. And then ...

Sighhhhhh.

Okay, so she over exaggerated. Big deal. Still, the boy's sigh made her roll her eyes. “Look,” she said, “I'm sorry for that, too. Maybe I just wanted to create a situation in which saying 'sorry' was applicable.”

He said nothing to her obviously sarcastic comment as he twisted his body to open his backpack, pulling out the old red notebook he dragged around with him everywhere. The familiar sound of pages flipping filled the air. She watched as he pulled a pencil from his pocket, tapping it in the familiar beat he did yesterday. Two quick taps, then a pause, then another tap. Repeat.

Dawn tentatively walked to her seat to the left of Lucas, placing the myths book delicately on the table. “Do you not want to talk about it?”

“Not talk about what?” He looked up and raised an eyebrow.

It caught her off guard. “What just happened ...?” she said.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “It's not important.”

Not important. Right. That’s what she was to him. She frowned. “Well, I'm glad you're not ...” How could she phrase it? “... Bothered.”

“Yep.” His head went back down, continuing to flip through the pages of his notebook until he found the next blank sheet. He dug into the back pocket of his jeans this time and pulled out a red, square device. A pokédex, she noted, as he pressed the center button to open the device and reveal the shiny screen. He touched the screen and flicked his finger up. A series of quiet beeps followed.

It was so sudden, and she didn’t expect it. All she worked for came crashing back down the square one. Three weeks of trying to reestablish a friendship was just ... gone.

“Anything I can do?” she asked helpfully.

“You can be quiet,” was his familiar answer followed by the familiar smirk. He didn't look up, though.

Wish granted. She didn't reply and instead stared at the book, skipping over the myth her book was open to and toward the analysis at the bottom of the page. Get that stupid kiss–or almost kiss or whatever it was–out of your head. Concentrate.

Fullmoon Island and Newmoon Island are considered to be parallels to each other not only geographically but within legend, too. It is rumored that two legendary pokémon reside on each island. Cresselia, a pokémon that appears to be more active during the crescent moon phases (or is at least symbolized as such) supposedly makes home in Fullmoon Island, though there is no evidence to support this. The “pitch-black beast,” as the myth describes, most likely belongs to cresselia's counterpart, a dark-type named Darkrai. It is told that he is the most powerful during the new moon phase, thus ...

Wait. Darkrai?

Dar is watching me, she remembered. And then it clicked in her head.

“Darkrai is watching me,” she said out loud to no one, though Lucas heard her. She felt his gaze on her, so she snapped her head up and looked back. “Darkrai is watching me,” she repeated, eyes wide. “It's gotta be darkrai, Lucas. I know it.”

He gave her that same look from earlier. How slight his eyes rolled in their sockets and the nose flare that held back his sigh. “And what makes you think that?” he murmured.

“Well, the myths book–”

“Exactly.”

“Lucas, what else–”

“It's not darkrai,” he said firmly. She noticed that his fingers wrapped tighter around his pencil, his fingernails digging into the wood. “No one has seen darkrai in decades. There is very little research on it.”

“Of course there isn't because the myth says that it’s active when the new–”

“Dawn.” He didn't raise his voice nor did he sound annoyed, but the simple single-syllable pronunciation of her name made her stop talking.

Dawn frowned, fingers lightly resting on the pages of her book. “Why don't you believe me? You believed me earlier about that new moon thing I read. Even if the myth isn't true, surely it's based on something that is true.”

“It's just not.” Lucas stared down at his pokédex.

“Can't you just–”

“Stop.” He curled his toes in his sneakers to fight back the agitation building up inside himself.

“But look, Lucas.” Goddamn she was determined. “It says here that darkrai is powered by the new moon, and he's a dark type, and Lane. Remember what Lane was saying in his sleep? 'Dar is watching me.' That could be him trying to say 'darkrai,' Lucas. And look at this part!” She used her pointer finger to keep track of where she was reading. “'Darkrai is rumored to be fueled by nightmares.' It makes perfect sense.”

“No, it doesn't.” He slammed his pencil down and glared at Dawn. “Listen to yourself. 'Rumors.' 'Myth.' Do you not get how stupid you sound right now and how pathetic it is to resort to what most likely are tales told to children because, for some goddamn reason or another, we can't find the solution to what's wrong with Eldritch's kid? It’s not helping that you keep stopping me to tell your little riddle that you found to be 'soooo' interesting–” She looked about ready to kill him when he mocked her, her face in a scowl. “–and it certainly isn't helping Lane. Myths explain nothing except how unexplainable something is. People form myths, believe in them, research them, because they are too lazy to find the source of truth. The fathom any freaking reason so they can direct their fear toward something. So stop it, for Arceus' sake. You're not helping. I don’t need you.”

What was weird was that it was this little rant that finally got her. Forget him trying to ignore her for the past three weeks, then trying to brush her aside and treat her like useless crap the day before, then being a complete smart-ass to her last night, and then pulling away from her trying to kiss him less than thirty minutes ago. It was this, his little “myth on myths” (if that's not ironic in itself), that got her to stare at him bewilderedly, widen her eyes, and then, subsequently, cry.

Hell, that little “snap” of his wasn't even entirely directed toward her. She caused it, sure, but it wasn't toward her.

He didn't say anything as she scooted the chair back angrily, tears angrily building up in her eyes, as she swiped her bag off the table. He didn't even look up from his notebook when she stomped off toward the staircase and half-walked, half-ran, down them. There was no time for that. He had plenty of other things to occupy his mind. Dawn couldn't be one of them.

 

[Mallymkun]

Yay, a new chapter! Poor Lucas, with all that stress on him. And poor Dawn as well, but it's a good kind of bad, one that taught her some truth.

He noticed how her head start to **** slightly to the right

What did the filter catch? I don't see how any swear word could be used here.

Also, this "rope is evil" thing is recurring, but I'm not sure what the significance is. :/

 

[jirachiman876]

Rope is always evil. Nice chap Breezeh!!! Love the little argument between Dawn and Lucas, and the almost kiss. Things are getting interesting, especially cause I feel Dawn is totally right!!! Just need some proof. lol.
Anyway, cool little dream sequence here. I like it, very intereting how a ponyta can fit into a washing machine. Very dreamy.
Great chap, seemed a little short so not a big review. And of course nothing is wrong with short chapters.
jirachiman out ;385;

 

[Breezy]

Spoiler: Author's note

@Mallymkun: The censored word was a certain "c" word that could be ... a certain boy part, but I meant it in the "tilt your head to the side" sort of way. =P I'll fix it soon. The rope thing isn't really significant; it's more of a silly recurring theme. I do this a few times with other objects. You might notice another this chapter. Another one is whenever Lance is mentioned, a certain tag line follows after it. =P So some things are serious, some things are just for the lulz.

Thanks for reviewing!

@jirachiman: Glad you liked the chapter! The almost kiss was a fun scene to write. =) And the ponyta in a washing machine thing was just ... I don't even know how I thought of that.

Anyway, author note!

Longest chapter to date. Apologies. I'm not sure how it happened. The good thing is that it should be rather straightforward and a bit more interesting, if you're really into Lucas. The bad thing is that the structure may confuse you. My advice is not to read the scenes as linear besides the more obvious “real time” scenes.

Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

Common sense tells me that I should be mad at myself. Or guilty. Or both.

I'm not.

Possible ability: Run away – enables sure get away.

~ ~ ~
Chapter Ten
~ ~ ~

Nighttime is a time of solace. It is where you put all the stress from the day into a tight, neat thought and look over it, put away on a shelf, and try to forget about it, only to take it down, look over it again, get annoyed, put it to the side, turn your back to it, but continue to think about it even if you don't want to.

It was a confusing state, Lucas noted, his mind in a constant shuffle between articles on pokémon comatose and the stupid brat that ran off on him. No matter what he wanted to do, which was to go home and get lost in pokédex data under the flannel covers of his bed, some sort of invisible glue kept his butt cheeks planted firm in his seat. It felt like there was a magnet in his hand that was stuck to an opposing magnet in the book's page. It was like a tiny alarm clock beeping “WHAT DID YOU DO, WHAT DID YOU DO, CUCKOO!” in his head. He wanted to flip the book over and repel it away. He wanted to smash his head in with the flat of his palm.

Okay, not really.

Was it guilt he was feeling, that twisted, knotted feeling in his stomach? Was it this that made his breath shallow, his mind race, his brow lightly sweat? Was this why he couldn't go home? He felt, dare he say, bad for what he said earlier?

He scooted back, lifting his legs on the table and crumpling pages of his notebook beneath his calves. He looked toward the window. Black. The glass was starting to frost over near the edges. It is late, he mused, and cold. He took off his hat and threw it onto the table only for it to slip over the edge and fall to the floor. Where did she go? Why did he care? And goddamn, what the hell is wrong with this kid?

He leaned his head back, letting out a yawn while staring at the fluorescent lights above. He snapped his head forward back toward the desk, the wooden panels under him groaning tiredly. He contemplated. He was lost. He had no idea where to go, what to turn to. There was nothing he could use to connect to Lane's state? No other cases? Nothing?

Near his feet was Dawn's book. That myths book. Pardon, that stupid myths book. It was open to the same page she left it on. If he squinted, he could make out the small text from here. Darkrai, darkrai, blah, blah, blah. There was a small sketch of the dark-type on the upper left page. He pulled his legs off the table and sat up properly. And then, again because of the stupid magnets in his hands, he reached forward for the book only for logic to step in heroically and block him from doing the evil deed, making him pull his hand back to the nape of his neck.

“Psh,” was all he could muster, wiggling his cold fingers against the warmth of his neck.

It'll do you no good, said Logic.

But what harm will it do? questioned Guilt.

Don't. There's no point in it.

But what if you learn something?

You won't. You know that. We both know that.

He imagined Logic glaring at a sheepish Guilt.

With his hands tucked in the warm crevice of his stinky armpits, Lucas leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, letting out another yawn. His head soon followed, collapsing into his folded arms. He could feel the coldness from the air conditioner enter the opening of his t-shirt, creating goosebumps on his chest.

When you're finally able to lock away that tight package of thought, you're awarded with sleep. Or, at the very least, a half-dazed state where real life merges into something dream-like. You start to envision what you want to happen, or what you expect is going to happen sooner or later. He kept envisioning Dawn walking back in, sitting next to him. She would, while his head was still down, pull that stupid myths book in front of her, flip through the pages, and when he finally looked up, she'd give him one of those smiles that made him feel uncomfortable. He kept hearing noises – feet pounding, chair legs scraping, pencils tapping, pages flipping, but he knew it was all in the imagination.

Now to figure out what category to shuffle that particular thought in ...

He pulled his head up a bit to look at the bulky blue pokétch strapped to his left wrist. Almost eight o'clock. Holy hell. Had he been here that long? What was he doing?

You should look for Dawn, said Guilt.

She's fine, argued Logic. She's fourteen years old. If she can't take care of herself by now, then all hope is lost.

But imagine if something did happen to her, replied Guilt. Could you live with it?

Depends, replied Logic.

For example, what happens if she runs into that same bibarel? Wouldn't that be ironic? said Humor with a chuckle.

That's not funny, muttered Guilt, nor ironic. And who invited you into this conversation?

Yeah, butt out, chimed in Logic.

No, you butt out! yelled Humor.

Stop the maaaaadness! sung the rarely heard Drama.

Lucas sat up and rubbed at his temples. “Why does Drama have an opera voice?” he murmured, bending over to scoop his hat off the floor. He brushed the top of it for dust before throwing it back on his head, letting it sit crookedly. That stupid myths book caught the corner of his eye again. It taunted him. Read me. What are you, chicken? C'mon. You want me. You know I'm in your head.

He looked back and forth between his notebook and that stupid myths book. His notebook was glaring at him. If you touch it, warned his notebook, I'm not going to be your friend.

“Why do I keep filling in voices for things?”

Why not? his notebook replied.

He shook his head and closed his notebook (he imagined muffled groans) and, with hesitant fingers, reached forward for the book – er, that stupid myths book. The pages felt old and dusty beneath his fingertips, though it couldn't be older than a few years. The print was small, the spacing narrow. How Dawn didn't strain her eyes reading this, he didn't know.

“Darkrai,” he read out loud, “the pitch-black pokémon. Folklore has that on moonless nights, this pokémon ...”

~ ~ ~​

He turned twelve today. Veilstone City wasn't much of a city for a kid to celebrate his birthday in. He was too young to gamble at the Game Corner and shopping at a department store could only amuse someone for so long. At least he was here instead of some forgotten dirt trail.

But still, he thought, hands shoved deeply inside the pockets of his jeans, it sucks being alone on your birthday. He raised his head slightly, the brim of his cap protecting his eyes from the bright rays of sunshine. It sucks being alone period. He needed the break, though – no, his pokémon needed the break; they had worked so hard for so long. It would be nice to relax and maybe buy a small cake to celebrate his birthday with. Tomorrow he would run back to the chaotic world of pokémon battling. He was really getting into the whole pokémon battling thing. It wasn't about the flashy moves, or the glory that comes with winning. So many styles. So many moves. So many techniques. So many ... pokémon. (Yes, really.) All the different outcomes piqued his interest. What if this trainer used this move first? What is that pokémon was of an adamant nature instead of a timid one? Would a different ability help?

Ick. It wasn't the time to think of that. It's cake time! But where to buy cake ...?

He wandered about the city aimlessly though his eyes were observant. The cheery activity of Main Street was replaced with the eerie shrieking of whistling wind between tall, shiny buildings. He could hear the traffic of downtown and their meaningless honks and screeching, but none of that was here ... wherever he was. The business district, he assumed, slowing down to take a look at his surroundings. Most of the buildings were, well, tall and rectangle. However, one building across the street had its entrance covered in bushy but spiky planters. That's no way to grab attention.

Or maybe it was. Lucas looked back and forth for cars before darting across the street toward the building. He tucked his fingers into the palms of his hands, the leather of his gloves stretching over his knuckles, and tried to push the thick branches away to get a better view. The building looked kind of old from what he could make out. It had no windows. Maybe it was a warehouse? Oh, who cares? He wanted cake. Chocolate cake. He kicked it up a notch.

He stepped back, repositioning his hands inside the warmth of his pockets, and started to walk toward the corner. He heard something: the hurried footsteps of someone's shoes slapping against the concrete. The sound got louder the closer he got to the corner, and before he knew it, a girl, her eyes wide, would have rammed him down had he not quickly stepped to the side. The girl turned around and murmured a quick, “Sorry!” before running in the opposite direction, her hair streaming behind her. There was hesitation in her steps. She slowed down and stopped. She turned back around. Then she asked,

“Lucas?”

How do you respond to that? “Um, yes?” he replied tentatively, the corner of his mouth pulling upward so one eye was squinted.

Her eyes lit up. “You! I remember you! Remember me?” The crazy girl stepped forward with a grin that made his stomach grumble ... or maybe that was because he was hungry.

She did look familiar. He remembered the hat, some sort of beanie cap except white and girly, that was pulled over the top of her hair. “You're ...” He snapped his fingers. “You're also one of Professor Rowan's assistants. Right?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Dawn. It's nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” he replied immediately. During his journey, Lucas learned how to spit out after certain phrases out of politeness. He never really meant it, but maybe he did this time. Dawn was under the same apprenticeship that he was. That had to count for something, right?

Lucas looked up, admiring one of the tall buildings, the corner of it glinting in the sunlight. “What are you doing here anyway?”

The girl's smile started to fade. She stepped closer. “You promise not to tell the professor?” she whispered. He didn't know why she bothered whispering. No one was around.

He nodded.

“I think my pokédex got stolen.” Her face cringed, her nose wrinkling. “Of course my data is backed up on a computer back at the laboratory, but those devices aren't cheap, you know?”

He shifted the contents of his right pocket to feel for the square device that was currently pressed between his thigh and an empty pokéball. “Stolen? How?”

“I'm not sure. I was eating lunch at the department store, and I had my pokédex clipped to my bag's strap.” She lifted the yellow strap where some sort of black hooking device was clipped to it. “You know, for easy access?” She rolled her eyes at this. “Anyway, I hung my bag over the back of the chair. I did notice some ... some guy with a blue bowl cut walk back and forth behind me a few times. I think he did it. I guess I should have been suspicious but ... eh.”

“Why are you here if it happened at the department store?” he asked, pulling his hands out of his pockets along with a few coins that clattered to the ground. He bent over to pick them up before they could roll into the bushes. “Wouldn't you be better off ... well, not here?”

“Yeah, but I think that guy was ...” she trailed off, twirling a finger around a few strands of hair. “I think they're called Team Galactic. They've been all over the news lately for something. Dunno if you've been watching the news since you've been all over the place.”

“Team Galactic,” he repeated. It sounded familiar.

“They're known for that blue hair that I talked about earlier, and they all kind of dress alike. Uniforms, I guess,” Dawn continued. “Anyway, their headquarters are around here. I figure if that kid with the bowl cut took my 'dex, he has to be there somewhere.” She stared at him, eyes curious. “You busy?”

Hungry, he thought. Must get cake.

“Think you could help me out?” she continued.

“I ...” He was about to say no, tell her that he had things to do, people to see, pokémon to heal, any excuse he could muster so he could eat delicious slices of cake, and that he could help her later if she still needed help–maybe, if she was lucky–but her eyes suddenly snapped up towards his and quickly swept back and forth, reading his face. And like that, a light hope disappeared into heavy disappointment. “Yeah, okay,” he finally answered. The look on her face made his stomach twist in a funny way. “Why not?”

She squealed happily. “Goody!” She grabbed at his wrist and pulled him down the sidewalk. “C'mon! The headquarter is this way!”

~ ~ ~​

“According to one theory, Mt. Coronet is where the Sinnoh region began,” said the man.

Lucas wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy staring at the strange man who appeared out of nowhere in his long, black trench coat and fedora. Plus he had other issues to worry about, like peeing. God, he had to pee. He managed to finally find an exit to this stupid mountain after a hour or so, and of course some strange man had to come along and tell him some boring ass story about Sinnoh. All the small ponds and streams of water weren't helping alleviate his bathroom situation. Damn you, pleasant tinkling noise.

He struggled, slightly bouncing back and forth with his thighs pressing together tightly.

“In a newly created world ... A world where only time flowed and space expanded,” the man began, “there should have been no strife.”

Lucas nodded, legs still squirming, teeth biting the inside of his cheek. He had no idea what this guy was talking about. Mom said when dealing with the crazy, you let them do their thing and leave as soon as you have the chance.

“But what became of that world?”

Did he expect him to answer that?

“Um, lack of bathrooms?” he said half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“Humans,” the man growled, eyes narrowing, focusing on something behind Lucas's head. “Because the human spirit is weak and incomplete, strife has appeared. This world is ruined by it.”

He didn't get it. Without human spirit or humans period, he wouldn't even be here, right? And holy crap, did he just pee a little? He brought his closed fists to his face, digging his knuckles into his cheek, and bit his tongue lightly.

“I find the state of things to be deplorable ...” he trailed off in the same venomous tone from before. He held the brim of his fedora tightly and lowered it over his eyes. “Pardon me. Stand aside.”

Lucas didn't bother going after the odd man and his odder ramblings as he brushed past him. Although he wondered why the man bothered to stop him on his way out to speak about his feelings on the “horrible human spirit” (or whatever he said), he tried to push it out of his mind. He had encountered some weird people on his adventure–trainers that crawl alongside their pokémon, trainers that eat pokémon food, trainers in general, really–but that man ... that man had to be the weirdest.

Right. Bathroom. Right.

He darted out of the cave, running pigeon-toed.

~ ~ ~​

“This cave painting. It's always been described this way,” said the woman, pressing a hand against the stone panels and dragging her hand down lightly, feeling the bumps and the grooves.

“Uh huh,” replied the fourteen year old behind her. She didn't bother looking back. She knew the boy was slouching. She knew he was rolling his eyes. She knew he was trying to focus on anything other than what she was talking about. It was just the child's way. She had no idea why he acted like this around her. When they first met, he was such a sweet boy, but after the entire Cyrus fiasco, the poor thing had changed. He was so ... cold. Maybe it was a stage. The transition from simple trainer to champion of a region was a big jump. Maybe it overwhelmed him. Different people react differently to different things.

“The light in the center represents either dialga or palkia appearing at the Spear Pillar,” she continued thoughtfully. “The three lights around it were thought to be uxie, mesprit and azelf.”

“Fantastic,” the boy replied dully. She heard him scuff the flooring of the sacred cave with his foot.

“May I continue?” she replied back coolly, turning her head and brushing her long strands of blonde hair out of her face. She raised an eyebrow, her gray eyes sparkling even in the dim light of the ruins. Her hand remained on the stone panel.

“Whatever,” was the boy's blunt reply as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his right leg.

She turned back around, the folds of her long, black coat sweeping around her legs. “But, then, I realized that there may be another way of interpreting this. Could this triangle of lights actually represent a different trio? Could they be dialga, palkia, and giratina instead? And the large light at their center. Does it represent something else? Could it be what created this world of ours?”

“Cynthia, why are you telling me this? It's over,” he remarked bitterly. “I don't care.”

“May I continue for a little bit longer?” she asked. She didn't bother turning her head this time, focusing on the picture.

Lucas sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you for listening to my theory.” She did mean that, somewhat. He should know, after all, even if he didn't want to hear it. “Do you know of the ancient plates they find all over Sinnoh? One of them had this engraved on it. 'Two beings of time and space set free from the Original One.' I think this quote, too, points to the presence of another pokémon. A pokémon even more powerful than dialga or palkia. Does this sound plausible to you?”

There was a pause before he answered, “I guess.”

“I'm not quite sure how giratina fits into this scheme of things, but ...” She paused.

Another sigh. “But ...?”

“It's said that in the Distortion World, neither time nor space were stable.”

“Cyrus told me that. Why are you tell me things I already know ... and fixed? Kinda.”

“I think that tells us something about giratina, the only pokémon there.” She ignored Lucas's snide comments and focused on her theory. “It must be have been as powerful as dialga and palkia, the rulers of time and space. In some way, though, giratina has to have a power opposites of theirs.”

“Cyrus told me this, too. They're parallels. DNA strands. Without one, the other cannot exist.”

It was Cynthia that sighed this time. “I'm sorry this is so long.” She walked along the wall, her fingers brushing the dirt off the panels. “May I say one last bit?”

“Fine.”

She smiled wistfully to herself, her eyes creasing at the edges. “A long time ago,” she began, “I wondered what sort of person painted this. Dialga's Roar of Time ... Palkia's Spacial Rend ... To the people back then, those pokémon really must have appeared to rule over time and space. Seeing them must have shaken the people to their very core.” She felt the heels of her shoes sink into a particularly wet patch of mud, but she didn't care. “This painting represents those feelings of awe, wonder, and everything else. It passed that memory to countless people, eventually becoming a myth ...” At this, she turned around to face the boy who had a completely bewildered look on his face. It amused her; she finally snapped him out of his bitter state, even if it was for only a little bit. “That's what I believe as a researcher of myths.”

It was silent for a while. She watched his face carefully while fiddling with the fuzzy sleeves of her jacket. It went from bewilderment, to contemplation, to more bewilderment, before finally setting on anger. Distraught. Pure, unadulterated unhappiness.

“It must be nice to be you,” he murmured. He was physically shaking. “You get to observe phenomena that must have been eye-boggling but emotionally and physically draining from a safe distance, and in retrospect, all for the sake of 'preserving history.' All you get to do is look at it from someone else's perspective, and somehow people think you're an expert on it? Awe? Wonder? Those people were scared, Cynthia. They had no idea what was going on, or what to do, or if anything was going to be okay in the end, and you think you have the right to say how they felt without being there? Without having a first person account?”

She simply gazed back into his hurt-filled eyes as he raised his head. Her right hand raised itself to brush the blonde bangs away from her eyes. “You can try to imagine, you had the chance to figure out what these people felt – no, what I felt a few months ago, but you never came after me. So, no, Cynthia. I don't appreciate you dragging me here while I'm trying to goddamn figure out this whole 'pokémon champion' thing that you, for some reason, don't really want to help me with either.” He let out a laugh, short and resentful.

She raised an eyebrow, amused a little. The slight change in her facial expression seemed to anger the boy more. “I'm trying, Lucas,” she said calmly. “I'm trying to help you understand why I didn't–”

“Stop it!” he yelled, cheeks flushed. His voice echoed in the tiny but well-kept chamber. “You keep telling me that you understand, that you get me, that you know what it's like, but you don't! You keep relying on stories, on pictures, on myth, but how accurate are they? How can you really know what's going on from just that? You just ... can't. I don't get how you can do that. People's memories alter throughout time. How can you rely on something that is so fickle?”

“Mmm.” She pursed her lips in response. She wanted to really respond–badly, too–but it was better off if she didn't. “I think I let myself get carried away and talked for far too long. I'm sorry ... and thank you.”

He let out a weird growl and opened and closed his mouth, like he wanted to say something else but couldn't. “You can do your own thing,” he finally said, “and I'll do what everyone expects me to do. Like always.”

She gave him a small, awkward smile. “Let's meet again, Lucas.”

~ ~ ~​

As he sat in the lobby of the pokémon center waiting for his pokémon to heal, he couldn't help but reflect on what Cyrus told him. It was disturbing.

“I see. You must be the trainer I've been hearing about. The foolhardy one that's been trying to stand up to Team Galactic.”

All he wanted to do was the right thing ... whatever that meant.

He fiddled with the straw of his soda, making the bubbles from the carbonation pop. He didn't really understand Cyrus and his ideas. Heck, he barely understood what he was suppose to do. He knew that whatever he was against was something bad.

It all started in Jubilife, if he remembered correctly. He was heading back from Oreburgh, and he saw some freak in a space suit harassing his mentor. He wasn't sure why Professor Rowan wasn't able to take care of the freak himself; he was, after all, an excellent trainer. And then, a few weeks after that, some little girl came running into Floaroma, screaming about the Valley Windworks being taken over by the same freaks.

He supposed it was his fault that he got wrapped up into the entire mess. He didn't have to help the little girl, but no one else seemed to have the guts to investigate. It was this event, he believed, that caught the attention of Team Galactic. It made him something of a threat even though he only had a couple of badges at the time. And all the while he still didn't know who they were, what they wanted, or why they were here.

So when Cyrus told him that he was “the foolhardy one that's trying to stand up to Team Galactic,” it kind of ... offended him. That wasn't his mission. He didn't want to be a hero. He didn't want to vanquish the evil off the face of Sinnoh. It was just that no one else was doing anything. They kept telling him, “This is bad, Lucas! Someone has to do something!” ... but they themselves wouldn't do anything. It felt like he had to step in. He got so deep into it that people started to expect him to stop it without being told to do it, and he already knew that they wouldn't do anything about it anyway.

It shouldn't be this way. Thirteen year olds shouldn't be here, hoping for the best for the pokémon that almost died in battle against some man with a god complex. The most he should be worried about was whether or not he'd make it into the pokémon league.

He placed his drink on the floor and doubled over, resting his head in his hands, his fingers digging into the top of his hat. The ordeal and its aftermath left him sick it; his gag reflex was agitated and sore. Salty saliva was building up on the insides of his cheek and dripping down to the corners of his mouth, some of it escaping. He slurped it back up, provoking the back of throat even more.

He didn't know. Maybe he wouldn't mind being forced into these situations if he didn't feel so alone and used. People expected too much of him and do nothing for him in return. Why did he bother to keep pleasing them?

“Lucas, you may now see your pokémon,” he heard on the speaker system.

He got up, leaving his drink on the floor but picking up the backpack he placed next to him. As he swung his bag around his shoulder, another thought formed in his head.

“Such emotions are but mere illusions. And, like all illusions, they fade over time until death banishes them forever. That is why I have abandoned all emotions as useless sentimentality. But that doesn't matter. I doubt you will ever understand my position.”

Cyrus was a creepy man.

He walked down one of the barren hallways of the center, feet slapping against the plastic tile, and stopped in front of a wide window. He stared at his tired, slouched reflection before peering inside. Inside were rows of beds with pokémon sleeping. His riolu was one of them, the third bed to the right, hooked up to some weird, square, mechanical machine with lots of buttons that occasionally flashed. Even from here, the pain in his pokémon's face. From under the sheets, its tiny body was squirming. It was just a runt – it shouldn't have been in such a hardcore battle. But he needed all the help he could get.

He reflected on his position. He enjoyed being helpful. He enjoyed making others happy. He tried to be the most caring, compassionate, understanding kid because that's how Mom raised him. Rewards come to good boys, she told him.

What had he been rewarded with?

Quite grimly, he realized he would be better off if he did understand Cyrus's position a little better.

~ ~ ~​

“...Thanks,” she said meekly, holding her pink pokédex in the flat of her palm. She used her other glove-covered hand to rub the grimy fingertips off the glossy casing. Her piplup hopped at her heels and cheered, chirping his name repeatedly.

Lucas scratched his forehead, watching as the kid with the blue bowl cut retreated down the street. “No problem. Glad I could help.” He returned Grotle back into his pokéball and gave it a smile before re-clipping it to his belt.

Saying goodbye to someone you don't really know was something Lucas always found awkward, especially when he wanted to leave in a hurry to get cake. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, um ... It was nice seeing you?” Why did he say that as a question? Dumb. “I'll see you later?” Another question. Great.

The girl clipped the pokédex back onto her bag's strap with a satisfying click. “Thanks again.” Dawn smiled as she scooped up her piplup, petting his head with her free hand. She flicked out a pokéball and returned the penguin in a beam of red light.

He gave her a nod and turned on the balls of his feet, heading back in the direction he came from. He took a few steps, careful not to step on any of the jagged cracks (for the sake of his mother's back) or the dry, black bubblegum (because stepping on gum is gross period). Time for cake!

She let out a call after a few steps: “Is today maybe ... your birthday, Lucas?”

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. How would she know that? “It is ...?” he answered slowly, confusingly, questionably, to the weirdly-phrased query.

She giggled. “Congratulations, Lucas! And many more happy returns!”

“Er, thanks.”

She ran after him, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around her own. “I am sorry I made you stick around to help pathetic me.” Her eyes caught his, and it left him breathless for a second. “Come on. I'll make it up to you. I'll get all of us cake to celebrate, and I'll throw you an awesome birthday party!” She began to walk forward, causing Lucas to walk forward also. “What do you say?”

He stared at her, listening to their steps as they hit the sidewalk at the same time. They walked around the corner, facing the sunlight. His eyes squinted. He felt a tug at his arm.

“Well?” she questioned again. “My treat! It'll be fun!”

Here he was, alone on his birthday with no calls, no letters, nothing, and some girl that barely knew him wanted to spend time with him? And pay for the cake?

“Chocolate cake?” he asked hopefully.

“Whatever you want, Birthday Boy!” Dawn replied, patting his hand gently.

“I'd like that, Dawn,” he answered. “Um ... Thanks.”

She smiled wider. “Anytime.”

~ ~ ~​

Lucas drifted out of his thoughts and put that stupid myths book back down on the table. He had to admit (he guessed) that maybe this myth is onto something. Maybe you couldn't take what it said at face value but ...

“But why?” he asked to no one in particular.

The stupid myths book didn't really explain why Darkrai did what it did ... er, if it did it anyway. It is a dark type, so it doesn't really need a motive; it does whatever it can just because it can. According to myth, it has the ability to make people see horrific nightmares once it lulls them to sleep. Data from other sources told him that Darkrai has a move set that consists of sleep-inducing attacks. It did make sense ...

“But why?” he repeated, this time in a firmer tone.

It's the most powerful during new moon phases – or when it's “moonless.” The timing matched up, just like Dawn said. He tapped the eraser side of his pencil against the table, making it bounce. “But ... why?” Why pick on Lane? Why lull him into a sleep that lasted days? Did Harbor Inn have something to do with it? Did he gain energy somehow from it?

Is it something like Mega Drain? he thought. Maybe Darkrai is using Lane as a source of energy. Since Lane is just a kid, he would be an easier target.

Lucas leaned back in his chair, making it creak. “Can Darkrai do something like that, but with his opponent sleeping? Or is it the nightmares that he's interested in?” He thought back to Lane. His parents told him that he was stable, albeit the whole sleeping thing. Maybe it wasn't draining energy from Lane. “But why do it?”

He turned the page and focused on the illustration before him, exampling the sort of nightmares that Darkrai would (allegedly) broadcast in the minds of his prey. Bones, skulls, streams of blood ... cliché nightmare things. Not everyone dreams or fears this stuff. What would an eight year old dream of?

Of course – becoming a pokémon trainer. That's what he dreamed of at that age. It made him grin, but he frowned soon after. If they really are nightmares, then it must be the complete opposite, like not getting your license or ... something.

He flipped the page again, but there was nothing more on Darkrai. That couldn't be it ... could it? Even the storytellers couldn't think of a solution to their made-up problem?

You need a break, he thought, yawning again, running his tongue over his teeth.

No, you need to find Dawn, said Guilt.

“Yeah, yeah ...” He rolled his eyes. Quickly shoving both his notebook and that stupid myths book into his bag, the boy got up, almost falling over since both feet seemed to have fallen asleep during his reading. He stumbled over to the staircase, grabbing onto the greasy metal handrail to stabilize himself.

“You're here awfully late,” said the librarian at the front desk as Lucas stumbled to the ground floor. She looked up from the book she was reading and pulled her reading glasses down to the tip of her nose to get a better look at the champion. “I thought you would have left by now.”

“Have you seen Dawn?” he asked, ignoring the librarian's earlier statement and heading over to her. He placed both hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit.

“Dawn?” the librarian repeated. “Oh, that one girl you came with earlier? I haven't seen her since she left hours ago, dear. I remember her looking upset, though. How come?”

“No reason,” he murmured, shifting his eyes to the side. “Thanks.”

Lucas darted toward the exit, the automatic doors sliding open, and was greeted by the cool night air. He adjusted the straps of his backpack around his shoulders and wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. He looked left, then right, then left again, glancing at the marble water fountain. He stared at the statue on top, an ampharos whose tail was lit up and changed different colors every few seconds.

“Where could she have gone?” he asked the wind. “Home?”

“You looking for me?”

Lucas turned his head quickly, his neck whiplashing painfully, and saw the girl sitting on a bench nearby, her legs tightly crossed. Next to her thigh was a cup that was slightly wobbling in the wind. Cringing with one hand wrapped around the back of his neck, Lucas made his way over and stood in front of the girl. He didn't look at her but the street post above her head, the light catching his eye and making them glint. “Yeah, I was,” he finally muttered after a few seconds of silence, dropping his hand and letting it swing by his side. A particularly strong bout of wind blew, followed by the loud crashing of a wave hitting the cliff, sending up ocean spray that made both researchers shiver.

Dawn used the ends of her scarf as makeshift sleeves, wrapping them around her lower arms and holding the frays between her fingers. “What a stupid idea to come here without a jacket,” she murmured, her legs trembling. She used the top of her left boot to rub against the back of her right leg, trying to generate warmth to her lower half.

Lucas pulled his hat down firmer over his head. “Why are you still here, then, if it's so cold?”

“I don't know. I didn't know Canalave was this ridiculously cold.”

“Try going to Snowpoint then. Going over there told me a few things about being prepared for any type of weather.” He was about to sit next to her, but she glared at him, making him snap back up. “Well?”

“Well what?” she murmured, eyes looking past him.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. I don't know. I just am, I guess. It was nice sitting here and staring at the moon until the weather started acting up.”

He paused. “Were you waiting for me?” he asked delicately.

“No,” was her quick, agitated reply, frowning. She sighed. “Okay, maybe. I wanted to see if you would come after me. You kind of took a while, so I got hot chocolate and stuff.” She motioned toward the cup that was now laying on it side, rolling back and forth on the wooden, flaky bench. “But, well, here you are.”

“Yeah.”

“Yep.” Dawn turned her head to the side, staring at the lit up homes down the street. She bit her lip, trying to fight back the cold, her left boot rubbing harder into the back of her right leg.

Lucas finally built up the courage to drop his eyes from the street post and down toward the shivering girl below. “I ... I read that stu– that myths book you were carrying around lately,” he said, pulling his backpack to the side and unzipping the back pocket. “I brought it with me.”

This raised her eyebrow, though she kept her head pointed toward the houses, watching smoke spiral from the chimneys and dissipate with the sharp breeze.

“I think it might have something useful. I'm not going to take it word-for-word, but ... maybe it's onto something. Some of the things it says makes sense,” he continued, digging around his backpack. He sat down next to her, still digging around, but Dawn refused to face him, her back turned toward him.

“I told you,” she murmured.

“I know. I should have trusted you.”

“I've given you no reason not to.”

“Yeah,” he said.

She picked up the cup rolling near her thigh and set it up straight, running a finger around the plastic rim. “I guess I did overreact,” she said after a while, staring at the empty cup. “Just, you know, with earlier today–”

“Yeah.”

“–plus the last few days have been pretty stressful–”

“Yeah.”

“–I just ... I don't know.” She tugged at her scarf and sighed. “I wanted to help you so badly, and for you to push what help I did have back in my face made me upset at both me and you. Rowan is so proud of you, Lucas. I don't know if you know that. I know he's happy for me, too, but ... I only wish you could hear the things he says about you when you're not around. I hope he says the same stuff about me when I'm not around.”

Lucas gave whatever he was pulling on a final tug and successful got it out with a grunt.

“I don't know where I was going with that,” she continued. “I guess I wanted you to know. I know life's been hard on you lately. I'm trying to understand what it's like to be you, but I don't think I ever will. We're not all bad, Lucas.”

Dawn felt something soft and warm drape around her arms and upper torso, making her turn around to face the boy. “I know, Dawn,” he replied, looking her straight in the eye, one hand still holding onto the jacket he covered her with. “And I'm sorry.”

“Um ...” She looked back and forth between the jacket and Lucas who was still intensely gazing at her. “No worries, Lucas,” she replied, gently touching and wrapping her own hand around Lucas's. “And thanks ... for your jacket, I mean.”

“Yeah,” was his reply. “Come on. I'll walk you home.”

Dawn stood up and pulled the jacket over her shoulders, its length longer than her entire outfit. It was still a bit cold; the wind managed to slip into the jacket since it was so big on her. Lucas, being the mind-reading fiend that he is, comfortingly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close, sharing his warmth.

“So you really read that book, huh?” she said, grinning, looking up at him.

“No, I read the page you left it open on,” he corrected, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

“I knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself.”

“If you say so.”

“I'm always right, Lucas. You should just learn to deal with it.”

Her smile widened at the boy's snort. As they walked, admiring the nighttime life, Dawn heard something crinkle next to her hip. She looked down to where her bag swung gently back and forth and noticed the pastry she bought earlier, still wrapped in its plastic wrapping. “You didn't eat dinner, huh?”

“Just lunch from earlier, yeah.”

“Yeah, me neither. Maybe you can stay awhile and I can make us soup or something, yeah?” She used her free hand to pick up the pastry. “Anyway, I bought this earlier, but I forgot about it 'til now. Want it?”

“What is it?”

“Chocolate cake.”

 

[jirachiman876]

yay!!!! I love the ending scene! It's really awesome. Hooray for insane backstory. We got a good look at Lucas' character too. I'm pretty surprised he actually went with Dawn's theory considering how opposed he was to the idea, but obviously he's going through personality change like all MC's do(more or less). So yay! Very good chap Breezeh!
I saw a couple typos in there, but I don't exactly have the time to go and point them out. I'll get to it eventually. Maybe.
No Lane dreams this chap, but that's ok, got some Lucas stuff, which is just as good. He's got such a complex personality (at least to me). But it's understandable knowing what he had to go through. I did figure out what the order was in the middle scenes, you did a good job at clarifying it.
Can't wait for the next chap!!!
jirachiman out ;385;

 

[Breezy]

yay!!!! I love the ending scene! It's really awesome. Hooray for insane backstory. We got a good look at Lucas' character too. I'm pretty surprised he actually went with Dawn's theory considering how opposed he was to the idea, but obviously he's going through personality change like all MC's do(more or less). So yay! Very good chap Breezeh!
I saw a couple typos in there, but I don't exactly have the time to go and point them out. I'll get to it eventually. Maybe.
No Lane dreams this chap, but that's ok, got some Lucas stuff, which is just as good. He's got such a complex personality (at least to me). But it's understandable knowing what he had to go through. I did figure out what the order was in the middle scenes, you did a good job at clarifying it.
Can't wait for the next chap!!!
jirachiman out ;385;

The main reason I did a chapter devoted to Lucas' memories was to show his relationships between a few of the people that have impacted Lucas' current view on life. I won't elaborate on it, but I will say there is one huge factor that makes Lucas experience with Dawn a lot more different than his experience with Cynthia and Cyrus. That one reason is why Lucas seems to be more ... friendlier with Dawn, especially since he seems to be remembering what the two had done together.

With that said, he's not going to really go with Dawn's theory. =P He's still skeptical of it and taking the idea with a grain of salt, but since he has had a better relationship with her than other characters, he figures he at least owes her that.

Thanks for the typo remark; I'll look over it if you don't find the time to look yourself.

I do feel bad that I haven't been devoting as much time to Lane as I have to Lucas and Dawn. When I originally planned this story, I planned to have two sets of protagonists (Lucas & Dawn being one, and Lane the other, obviously), but Lane is slowly becoming a supporter. =( His dreams never seem to fit into the scheme of things, though, and I haven't really figured out a way to mix in Lane's new nightmare with the real world. I want the major dream to mirror real time events in the fic so the two can compliment each other. Just haven't figured out how. Might have to do the same like I did with this chapter and dedicate a chapter to Lane without mentioning Lucas and Dawn. But we'll see. =P

Thanks for reading and reviewing, jirachiman! =)

 

[Breezy]

I'm taking a break today.

I'm also taking her out to lunch later.

Crap.

...

Type: Psychic/Bug

~ ~ ~
Chapter Eleven
~ ~ ~

You are lost, aren't you?
I have been watching you for a while.
Follow me.

~ ~ ~​

Night. Day four. Lane had a soccer game today. They didn't go, of course. Lane certainly wasn't playing, and by the time Eldritch and Aly realized what time it was, the game was already over. Eldritch sometimes helped coach. Aly sometimes baked cookies for the team. Not today. Everything ordinary, everything normal, was put on pause until this abnormality–to put it lightly and in one, neat word–was settled and solved.

All Eldritch knew now, besides his unshaven beard and bloodshot eyes, was the hospital. Once you enter through those sliding glass doors, you're greeted with the information desk where a couple of nurses or receptionists or nurse receptionists were working. Then there were multiple hallways. One hallway led to patient rooms. The other led to the E.R. Another to surgical wards. One was pediatrics. So many facets of life were contained in the hospital's hallowed halls. Life, death ... and the things in between.

Eldritch knew the cafeteria well (God, he must have gained some weight digesting all the crap he couldn't help shove down his throat) snug between the information desk and one of the gift shops that sold stuffed animals. It wasn't that he was hungry all the time, but it was somewhere to go that wasn't Lane's room but was still nearby. For a few minutes every few hours, Eldritch wasn't that troubled father worried for his son but ... nothing. He was nothing except a man staring at a jiggly cup of orange Jello.

Alyson had joined him tonight. She rarely did; she was often in the hallway on her cellphone, talking to relatives, friends, other doctors–anyone, really–and if she wasn't there, she was guaranteed to be in Lane's room, sitting. Waiting. Hoping. But she joined him tonight, a mug of coffee in front of her. It had lost its steam a long time ago. He didn't question it – er, her being here.

“I'm tired,” she began as he poked his plastic spoon into his dessert. Alyson rubbed at the corner of her eyes, smudging the tips of her fingers with black eyeliner. “It feels like we've been here for years now. Did you know it's the twenty-first?”

“I know it's Monday. Does that count?”

She gave him a light but awkward laugh, staring down at her coffee cup and rubbing her eyeliner-smudged finger along the white ceramic rim. He stared at the side of the cup. “Canalave General Hospital” was what he read in the dark red print. “You're not in trouble with work for taking so many days off, are you?”

“No. They're pretty understanding about the situation. It is taking away my vacation days but ...” he trailed off. “But even if I did get in trouble, I wouldn't want to leave you and Lane alone to deal with this.”

He noticed her staring at him for quite a while, almost alarmed (he thought of stantler), before snapping her head back down, wavy, brown hair falling over her face and hiding her eyes. She tucked the rogue strands behind her ears. He saw tears build up in her eyes, making watery blues more watery.

“What's wrong?” he asked tentatively, reaching across the table to place his calloused hand over Alyson's slimmer, smoother one.

Her hand retreated into the folds of her jacket at his cold touch, wiggling her fingers against her stomach. “Nothing,” she replied, sniffling and shaking the tears away. “I'm just on edge over ... you know.” She pointed her head up, staring at the dim fluorescent lighting. The cafeteria had closed shop for tonight, though the dining area had remained open. She sighed, switching her attention to the vending machine filled with brightly-colored snacks. “I wish this whole ordeal was over with. I wish someone knew something. Four days. Four days and we have nothing?”

“Lucas says he might be onto something,” Eldritch murmured. “He's going to investigate it tomorrow. That's what he told me anyway.”

“Our hope resides in another child?” she chided.

“He ain't your typical trainer, Aly. He's sharp. I trust the kid.”

“I suppose I have to, too.” She sighed again, picking up her spoon and dropping it delicately into her mug, letting it clink. “God, I hate this.” She propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands, digging her fingernails into her scalp. “What did we do wrong? Could we have prevented this from happening to him?”

“These things happen, Aly,” Eldritch replied, staring at the top of her fallen head.

“They shouldn't,” she grumbled back. “Not to us. Not after all we've been through. Mortgages and shaky work schedules and–”

“You say it like we're the only people in the world with these problems.”

“I know we're not. But we finally seem to have come to something that resembles a stable livelihood, and to have this thrown in our face after we settle in is just ... it's just bad luck. All we get is bad luck.”

She lifted her head. “And I get it, Eldritch,” she interrupted as Eldritch opened his mouth to speak. “I get that ... that this sort of stuff happens to everyone, but I'm always reminded about how unfair it is anyway. I'm not trying to blame anyone for our current predicament, but ... there must have been something we could have or couldn't have done. What if I didn't yell at him that one afternoon? What if I came earlier before he even got close to that inn? Or what if I talked to him about it instead? I knew he was mad at me, but I should have at least tried.”

“Aly, come on. Blaming yourself isn't going to get you anywhere.”

Alyson dug her fingernails into her palms, imprinting crescent-shaped marks on her skin. “Or ... was it you? Maybe you were too rough with playing with him or something.”

“Blaming me won't get you anywhere either,” he replied coolly, scooping up a small bit of Jello onto his spoon and slipping it in his mouth.

She ignored him, staring past his head, the low light from the vending machine reflecting in her eyes. “Maybe if you were around more, he wouldn't need to go out and try to find 'adventure.' Or maybe he wouldn't want to be so adventurous if you weren't so adventurous.”

“This again?” He suppressed his urge to glare at her, channeling his energy into his grip on the plastic spoon. He heard it start to crack. “You know I have little control on when I'm shipped out and where. And I never know how long I will be out at sea.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “I can't help how I feel, though.”

“That's always your reasoning. 'I get what you're saying but I'm going to be irrational anyway,'” he mocked while his eyes rolled, placing his spoon in his half-eaten cup of Jello. He wrapped his legs around the metal legs of the chair. “Please.”

“Please, what?” she asked dryly.

“Please nothing,” was his quick retort. He turned his head to the left and stared at the counter where lunch was served, school-style. Slanted glass protected the food from the people – or was it the people from the food? “What do you want me to do about it, Aly? I can't do anything about my schedule. And it hasn't bothered you before, not for a while. Why is it bothering you now?”

“It's not,” she lied, drumming her long fingernails on the table. Her left eye twitched a few times.

“Really.”

“Really what? I'm fine.”

“No you're not.”

“I just said I am.”

“Well, okay.”

She huffed, nose wrinkling. “If I have to tell you what my problem is again, then I'm not sure what the point is in telling you again.”

Eldritch gaped for a bit but quickly regained composure. “When did you ever tell me ... anything?”

“All the time! Every time we talk!”

“Now you're just being contradictory. We don't talk about this all the time.”

“You know what I mean!”

Eldritch rocked back and forth a few times in his chair out of frustration, hearing the plastic seat from his chair squeak and crack. He rubbed the sleeves of his polyester jacket against his chest. He was putting on a musical, an annoying musical of squeaking and cracking and rubbing and scratching. “Look, we both know you're here for some reason other than lecturing me about work.” He stopped moving, the symphony coming to an abrupt end. The silence surrounded them with its tension. He stared her straight in the face. “So why don't you come out and say it?”

She dug her teeth lightly into her bottom lip, red lipstick tinting the tips of her front teeth as her eyes darted left, right, anywhere that avoided the vicinity of his face. He watched her hands as they played with the sleeves of her jacket, the ends of the table, before finally resting around her lukewarm cup of coffee. She let out a small sigh, inhaled sharply, then released slowly. “I'm pregnant.”

He just ... stared at her after that. He heard her right, right? This wasn't a dream, a trick of the mind, right? He asked her a dumb question: “With what?”

“With a ... child?” she replied, dumbfound, blinking rapidly a few times.

The onslaught of dumb questions continued: “Is it mine?”

“For the love of Arceus, yes.”

He sat back in his chair, bending the back a bit, and crossed his arms, rubbing his fingers against his chin. “Another kid ...” he said softly, slowly. “What does this mean?”

Alyson raised an eyebrow. “That we're going to be parents for the second time? That we're going to have to go through diaper duty again? That we get to wake up at three in the morning after one hour of sleep to tend to a crying baby? What do you mean by, 'What does this mean?'”

“Well, what are we going to do, Aly? We are already cramped in that house as it is. I mean, imagine our apartment a few years ago but two times as worse. We can barely afford our current lifestyle as it is – and you're bothered by me being gone for long periods of time because of work. And then we still have Lane to worry about – granted, he does want to go out on a journey once he earns his license – why am I even thinking about that now when he's still in that coma or sleeping spell or whatever the hell it is?” He exhaled deeply, eyes alarmed.

“Shit,” he summed up simply.

Alyson stared down at her coffee, barely making out her reflection in the brown liquid. The conversation sounded oh so familiar. “In normal families, people rejoice about pregnancies,” she murmured quietly.

“It's not that, Aly. I mean, I'm hap–” He paused. “Well, I just ... I thought we were ... 'careful' this time. We both knew we couldn't afford another kid, even with my recent promotion.”

“It's been eight years, Dan. Things happen.”

“It's not like ... we've been ... you know.” The poor sailor was fully stammering now, and if Aly looked close enough, she could see the sweat starting to form on his forehead. “We haven't ... yeah lately.”

“Well, we did have 'yeah' a month or so ago. It's still early enough for it to be a possibility.”

“So ...” Eldritch scrolled his eyes back and forth across the ceiling. He always wondered why most major facilities–schools, hospitals, what have you–always had those tiny holes in their tile ceilings. “You're positive you are?”

“I took a take-home pregnancy test a few days ago, and it tested negative–” She suppressed her snort as she heard Eldritch exhale loudly in relief. “–but I really think I am. Womanly intuition, I don't know. You know my luck with those tests.” She sighed this time. “I scheduled an appointment with the OB/GYN tomorrow afternoon. I know you missed a bit with my pregnancy with Lane, but since you are around now, I thought you might like to find out with me.”

Eldritch stared at her so she continued. “I know it's bad to think of Lane's ... 'illness' like this, but I think it's a blessing as well as a curse. Of course I want him to get out of it as soon as possible, but at the same time, it's been nice to have you around knowing that you'll be here tomorrow. You know?” Alyson released her death grip on her mug and reached out toward Eldritch, placing her hand on the table. “Are you going to say anything?” She waved her hand across Eldritch's face. “Dan?”

He didn't respond and continued to stare. At least he didn't faint this time.

“I ...” Eldritch opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again only to close it slightly, running his tongue against his bottom lip. “I ...” He grunted, shaking his head a few times before gazing into Alyson's distraught face. “Look, I know things will work out, and I will try to be there for you when you need me. I know I'm being a complete pussy–” He ignored Alyson's cringe. “–right now, and I'm sorry for that.” Eldritch scooted his chair back, the metal legs scraping against the polished linoleum, and stood up, pressing his hands against the table and leaning his weight into them. “But can you just ... can you just give me a minute to process all this? I need some fresh air.”

It was Alyson's turn to say, “I ...” before trailing off. She nodded. “Yeah, of course. I suppose it is getting late. I should go see Lane before heading home. I'll see you there?”

“At home? Yeah.”

“Aaand ...” she looked up at him, tucking her hair behind her ear out of nervous habit, “you're coming with me tomorrow?”

He didn't ask why she asked it so breathlessly. “Yeah,” he said, trying to hide the unsureness in his voice. “I'll ... see you soon.”

“Yeah,” she replied softly with another nod. “I'll see ya.”

~ ~ ~​

Do you know what an abyss is, child?
It is bottomless, the gulf of chaos in the ancient cosmos.
It is space; it is nothing but, at the same time, everything.
It is also endless.
Do you understand, child?
This is before your time, of course.
Before the Creation.
Before intellect.
And morality.
Some call it hell.

~ ~ ~​

“Why are we here tonight?” asked Lucas briskly, pocketing his hands in the folds of his jacket, shifting his head so the brim of his cap wasn't blocking his vision. “I thought we were taking a break from all of this today.”

Dawn had to skip a bit to keep up with Lucas's long strides. “Well, yeaaaah,” she replied with an eye roll, slipping her hands into the sleeves of her red pea coat to protect her nimble fingers from the nippy cold. The frays of her scarf blew past her shoulders. “But if we plan to get to Crescentmoon–”

“Fullmoon.”

“–Fullmoon Island tomorrow night, we have to have some idea about how to get there – ew! I think I just stepped in gum!” She immediately stopped walking and headed over to the railing, wiping the bottom of her boot against it, a disgusted look twisted on her face. Lucas headed over toward her, hands still snug in the pockets of his jacket, and looked up toward the moon, the silver glow casting his skin in a pale, peculiar light. The people of Canalave were quiet tonight, though maybe that was because of the sea. The waves were crashing loudly into the wooden pillars of the docks and sending up a light, salty, ocean spray.

Lucas was glad for the stop as Dawn continued to grumbled about the gummy substance that was half on her shoe, half on the railing. His stomach was still full from lunch earlier. Apparently a restaurant in Sandgem was holding an open buffet, and you can't take buffets for granted. You just can't. It's the law ... at least for a boy. Dawn, watching all twenty pounds of her weight, only ate two plates, one of them being completely desserts. The shame! The shame!

He shook his head and focused his attention on the ships past the railing. They, too, reflected the pale moonlight, reflecting the light back at him. They were bobbing rather wildly, the ropes– evil fiends–that anchored the boats to the docks stressed from all the manic tugging. “I suppose we could charter a boat,” he answered. “There were sailors that use to ship trainers back and forth between here and Iron Island.”

Dawn gave her boot one final scrap against the railing before dropping her foot. She grabbed the cold railing in her covered hands and pressed her body against it, looking at the bobbing boats. “A boat, huh?” she repeated. “Guess that would be the best way. Was thinking we could use our pokémon or something ...”

“Yeah, let's go swimming in freezing cold water in waves that will surely rip us apart to an island that is an unknown distance away.” Lucas grabbed both ends of his scarf and pulled on them, trying to warm up the back of his neck.

“It sounded like a good idea in my head!” she whined.

“Even if it were calmer weather and the water wasn't so icy,” he replied dully, “you only have a piplup for a water-type. He wouldn't be able to carry your weight for long.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, I'm calling your piplup scrawny.” Lucas immediately sidestepped after this comment, missing Dawn's swinging fist with a small smirk. “I have a few water-types that may be able to make the journey, but it's too risky. You know, the whole freezing-your-balls-off thing.”

“Lovely imagery,” murmured Dawn with a grimace, releasing the railing from her grip to pull down on her hat. She rubbed her legs together, trying to rid them of goosebumps. “Gah. This weather. Why is it so chilly here but not back home?”

Lucas looked the girl up and down. “The ocean,” he said. “Plus you're wearing a skirt still. What is the point of bringing a jacket if you refuse to throw on pants?”

“I have fabulous legs that need to be showed off,” she answered as if it were obvious. She motioned toward her legs. “Helloooo? Besides, it wasn't that cold earlier.”

“Ah.” He pursed his lips and nodded a couple of times, eyes rolling to the side. “Right. Anyway, boat it is.”

Dawn flipped over and leaned her back against the rail, Lucas following suit. “So how do we get someone to take us there? Do they ship there?”

“I figure not en masse since it's not a popular destination.” Lucas sighed, catching sight of a wooden building that was snuggled between the sets of docks that dipped down toward the sea. He slowly walked toward it, stepping into a puddle and kicking water into his shoes. It was hard to ignore the mushy feeling that seeped through his socks and into his toes. He heard Dawn follow him, stepping in the same puddle and kicking droplets toward the back of his jeans much to his dismay. They stopped in front of the booth.

“Hmm,” he said, stepping closer and lightly pressing his finger against a board that had an engraved list of names on it. “... Yeah, Fullmoon isn't on here.” He looked toward the glass of the booth, noticing the sign placed inside it. Closed.

Dawn spotted the sign as well and scuffed her boot across the concrete. “Now what?”

“I guess we wait until tomorrow and ask around.” Lucas ran his tongue across his dry lips and turned around, facing the girl. “I can't believe you talked me into this.”

“Hey, we have no other leads except this,” she argued, poking him in the chest, which made him step back. “You told me that cresselia is the counterpart of darkrai, and the book says she's protector of those who fall under darkrai's spell, and according to the 'dex, cresselia is rumored to take rest at Fullmoon Island, so if we want to have a fighting chance of curing Lane, we gotta at least investigate it.”

“Use more than one sentence to speak,” he muttered.

She ignored his snark. “Besides, what can it hurt?”

“Even if cresselia is supposedly there,” Lucas brushed past Dawn, and Dawn walked beside him, “what do you except us to do? Talk to her and tell her about Lane's situation?”

“Don't be stupid. This isn't a fairy tale.” Dawn sighed, noticing that it was cold enough for her to see the water vapor in her breath. “You're going to catch it!”

Lucas made a weird choking noise before coughing a few times, his eyes starting to water up. “You want me to what?” he asked, bewildered, rubbing at the corners of his eyes.

“Catch it.”

“Are you ... Woman, you are insane.”

“Are you not pokémon champion, pokémon champion?” She nudged her elbow into his arm, sneering. “Come on, pokémon champion. Be a pokémon champion for once, pokémon champion.”

“Stop saying that, and no, I'm not catching it. It's powerful, according to data, and there's only a few of its kind. Either way, I wouldn't feel right about catching something near extinction ... even if I could. You look into your little Fairy Tale Book,” he nudged his head in the direction of Dawn's bag that swung from her shoulder, “and see if there's another way to use cresselia without her actually being there. This is your brilliant scheme after all. I'm just being your bitch for now.”

Dawn pouted. “Fine. But you find us a way to get to Fullmoon.”

“Fair enough.”

The two walked down the sidewalk that lead toward the bridge and stopped, listening to the cacophony of screeching wingull and crashing waves. Dawn gripped the strap of her bag and looked in the direction of the library, its four-story height a dark silhouette against the moonlight. A few of the windows were lit gold; people beside her and Lucas stayed in libraries past eight o'clock? Freaky stuff.

The scent of something burning made her nose crinkle, and she turned her head, her hair whipping around her shoulder. It was a man smoking a cigarette while he leaned against the railing, the smoke from the glowing orange tip rising hazily into the night before being swept away with a sharp breeze. The man was fiddling with his lighter, opening and closing its lid with a click. He must have felt Dawn's disdained look on his side as he turned his head, stopping.

“You two are here awfully late,” the man said gruffly, shifting the cigarette to the side of his mouth so he could speak. He pocketed his lighter into his jacket. “I thought you were taking a break today.”

Dawn looked at Lucas, confused. The streetlights cast the man in awkward shadows; she could make out his shape but couldn't see the details of his face. “Yeah. We got a little worried about how we would continue tomorrow, though,” replied Lucas, unfazed by the smell of smoke. “We need to get to Fullmoon, so we were looking around for ways to get there from here.”

The man pulled the cigarette out his mouth and threw it on the ground, stomping and grinding it into ash against his heel. “Fullmoon, eh?” The man walked closer, and Dawn recognized him as Eldritch, his dark hair tousled from the wind. Brown eyes directed themselves toward the boats before redirecting themselves at the duo. “Yeah. Not a lot of people go there. Maybe for the occasional wedding. Gorgeous place. Desolate, though. Why do you have to go there?”

“We think darkrai had something to do with what happened,” answered Dawn, “and Fullmoon is the host island of cresselia, darkrai's counterpart.”

Eldritch rubbed his chin, feeling up his five o'clock shadow. “Ah, right. I heard stories about darkrai. Fearsome beast, ain't he? Induces nightmares or something like that. And cresselia tries to protect those who are inflicted by his attacks. Popular tale at Halloween around these parts. Of course, I thought it was just a story ...” He shrugged, directing his attention toward Lucas. “What about you? How do you feel about this?”

“As skeptical as you, sir,” replied Lucas, shifting his weight between his feet, “though I suppose data can support it. Darkrai has been reported to use hypnotic-type moves, though I've never heard it using its attack on people. I figured it was a solitary breed. Can't say I know much about cresselia either. But why not? I'll just blame her if we're wrong.” He nudged his head in Dawn's direction.

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, do you think we'll be able to find someone to ship us there tomorrow afternoon?”

“Why tomorrow afternoon?”

“I have a battle presentation in Jubilife in the early afternoon,” Lucas piped in. “I also figured cresselia would be more active at night. Though maybe it would be better to find her if she were dormant ...” He shook his head. “Either way, doesn't matter as I won't be able to get out until at least three or four.” His brow furrowed together in thought. “Hey ... Uh, I know you're busy with Lane and all, but I remember you shipping me out to Iron Island years ago. Do you think you could help us find someone who can take us to Fullmoon tomorrow?”

“I'll give you one better, kid. I'll ship you both there myself.”

~ ~ ~​

“Heck,” he corrected.

Pardon?

“Heck,” he repeated. “Mom told me that the h-word is a bad word, so she tells me to say 'heck.' Even when I use 'heck,' she gets mad at me. She tells me there's no reason for me to use that word. Maybe I have a real reason to use it now.” Lane smiled, scrunching his cheeks so the dimples in his cheeks showed. “But, um, I guess she's not here. So ...” He looked around the dark space. “Hell, hell, hell, hell!” His voice echoed, and he laughed.

Child?

“Lane,” said Lane. “Call me Lane.”

It means nothing to me.

“What?”

Lane. The name. It means nothing to me.

“I thought nothing was everything here,” he said, spreading his arms out and spinning. “Isn't that what you told me earlier? So I am also everything to you. I think I'm the only thing here from the looks of it.” He stopped spinning and looked up. Black. Down. Black. Left and right. Black and black. “How come you're here, whoever you are?”

I have been since the beginning, since time started ticking, and perhaps even before. This is how it should be.

“Oh.” The child's voice was simplistic; it held no pity, no fear. “You don't get sad from that?”

What is the meaning of this word, sad?

“You know! When you feel ... I don't know. Sad?” Lane brought his hands up to his face and inserted his fingers into the corners of his mouth, tugging down on them to the point where he revealed the inside of his lower lip. “Like this.” He took his fingers out. “When you get a frown on your face. That's when you're sad usually.”

Then no, child. I do not get sad.

“What about happy? Do you know what happy is?”

No.

“Mad?”

No.

“Lonely?”

I do not know.

“Oh,” he said again. Lane did back flips in the dark open space, spreading his arms wide again. “Have you run out of things for me to think of?”

This bemuses me, child. Are you aware of where you are?

“Not really. I know all the weird stuff suddenly stopped happening. I know it's not home. Can you let me go home?”

No.

“Oh. Mom, always gets me for this. May you let me go home?”

No.

“Why not?”

I do not know the meaning of this word. Home. Describe it for me.

Lane stopped flipping, flattening his hair back down to his scalp. “I live in Canalave on Dark Water Drive. It's, like, three blocks away from the library on the west side of the docks. Know where that is?”

I do not. Continue.

“Canalave is in Sinnoh. Sinnoh is north of Kanto. Kanto is where Lance is. Do you know who Lance is?”

No.

Lane grinned. “He's the greatest. He has three dragonite and a charizard. Isn't that nuts?”

I am not sure. Continue with your definition of this “home.”

Lane wrinkled his nose as he thought. “I live with my mom and my dad. Mom stays at home and Dad's a sailor. He brings me back neat stuff from his trips! One time he brought me home a moon stone from the Kanto region! It was awesome! I lost it, I think. Don't tell Dad.” He paused, resting a finger on his chin.

“Mom is bossy,” he said thoughtfully. “She tells me to not do this, or do that, or eat this, or don't eat that, or stop being so noisy, or speak up, or sit down, or stand up.” He sighed, hooking his thumbs on the belt loops of his jeans while looking down at his untied shoes. “But she does make the best chocolate chip cookies! And she taught me how to blow bubbles out of bars of soap! One time she took me to Kanto to meet Lance!” He paused, looking around. “So where's home for you?”

Child, if I were to use your definition of “home,” then I do not believe I have one.

“No! That's my home, stupid! Everyone's home is different! Is this your home?”

Perhaps.

“You must get bored here. You don't have any TVs or video games! What do you do for fun?”

I read into others.

“Read?” Lane's face twisted in disgust. “Bleh! You should get a TV. What good do you get from reading others? Sometimes me and Julie sometimes go to Francis' house because he has this big TV, and we watch pokémon battles. It's awesome. I think it'd be funner than reading others.”

Who are they?

“Who? Francis and Julie?” Lane blinked a few times. “They're my friends from school. Julie lives next door. Francis is a few blocks away. Francis sometimes bugs me because he calls me short and 'Dumbo', but he has the best pokémon cards, and he keeps the bigger, older kids away from us. Julie is cool. She always has her hair in these two pigtails. I tug on them when I want to make her mad.”

Continue.

“We have lots of fun. One time we had a water balloon fight, and I hit Francis so hard with a balloon, he fell backward into some mud.” He laughed again, keeling over and clutching onto his stomach. “It was funny.” He recomposed himself, containing his laughter. “Do you have friends?”

No. I have no idea what those are either.

“So you must get lonely sometimes, right? Is that why you do it? You pick pokémon or people and poke around in their head so you're not alone?”

I do it for energy, child. It sustains my health. It keeps me going. I harbor no feeling toward my prey. I do this because it is how it should be. It was how I was created.

“You know, I can be your friend,” Lane said, tilting his head to the side. “I have no idea who you are, but you sound sad – even if you don't know what that means. I'm lonely here, too. But if we're together, we're not alone anymore, right?”

Enough of this, child. You have amused me far enough. You are nothing but an energy sack. Go back from where you came.

“I'm trying,” Lane replied sadly, lowering his head to stare at his feet. And then he was gone.



* Note: Part of the “abyss” definition came from Merriam-Webster. Lulz. Also, narrative for everyone else's scenes were more straightforward since I think it would have been too much with Lane's scenes. Or maybe I was lazy. One or the other. Thanks for reading. =P

 

[Mallymkun]

Darkrai's personality reminds me of Cyrus' goal, since he has no knowledge of emotions. Lucas is obviously still doubtful, but he's opening up a bit. Dawn seems to be more aware of others as well. Nice bits of character development there Breezy.

 

[Breezy]

Darkrai's personality reminds me of Cyrus' goal, since he has no knowledge of emotions. Lucas is obviously still doubtful, but he's opening up a bit. Dawn seems to be more aware of others as well. Nice bits of character development there Breezy.

Kind of based it off Cyrus a bit, yeah, without being power-hungry. You'll see more of it (or at least his narrative) later.

Yeah, I'm working toward less extreme versions of their previous selves, though Lucas is still pretty cynical about the whole thing and Dawn a little less ... annoying? Lol. Got some fun stuff to work with later on.

Thanks for the r&r! =)

 

[jirachiman876]

Very good chap breezy. I like Eldritch's reaction to the whole might be pregnant thing. Very awesome. ^^ I kind of liked that conversation in general. I think mainly because I'm totally in Eldritch's shoes most of the time. You women are so damn irrational. -.- lol.
Anyway, I did enjoy the bit of Dawn and Lucas (those evil ropes again, I almost laughed out loud, and I'm in class). Not too much happening there, though it seemed to me that in the conversation with Eldritch it sounded that Lucas more gave in to Dawn than anything, instead of him kind of thinking that the idea sounds at least a tiny bit plausable. Because I know he deosn't exactly believe it, but in the previous chapter or something, he seemed to actually think it could be possible. But that's just my thinking on the idea.
I did enjoy the little scene with Lane though. Totally what a child would do in that type of situation. Very well done.
Anyway, didn't find any typos so I got nothing in that front.
Well, I anticipate the next chapter.
jirachiman out ;385;

 

[EonMaster One]

So, apparently, I missed a lot.

I didn't think it was possible for this story to get any better in the time I was away, but apparently, it did.

I have come to the realization that I am astonished at your ability to tell so much story in seemingly so little space. I've gotten just barely good enough to do some of the things that you do, and yet I always write chapters that average 30-35 pages a pop and sometimes get as high as 60. Yes, you're reading that correctly, 60 pages. In 10-point font, no less.

Sometimes you read a story and you leave with that feeling that whatever you read was skinny, bony, didn't have enough meat on it...

Or perhaps, too much fat. And fat's bad for your arteries and all that.

But your writing is lean and efficient.

Maybe it's my bias as a sucker for romantic subtext, but that one scene in Chapter Ten managed to be really cute and really heartrending at the same time, if that makes any sense.

I'd like to find out more about either Dawn or about Eldritch himself, but I'm sure that'd happen in due time, and if it didn't, I'm sure there'd be a reason.

But you have a gift for character psychology, and as good as HLBMA was - definitely the best reinvention/novelization of a game world that I've seen by a long shot - I'm not sure that gift ever got the chance to really throw its head back and roar to the degree that it does here. I know you said at one point that Lull was more or less invented as a break from the focus on the HLBMA characters, but I honestly think that it's your best work yet. Keep it up.

- ;196; EM1


P.S. Everything you have here is part of the reason that your writing has become a major influence in a lot of things that I do. Would you mind much if I picked your brain a bit at some point in the future?

 

[Breezy]

Very good chap breezy. I like Eldritch's reaction to the whole might be pregnant thing. Very awesome. ^^ I kind of liked that conversation in general. I think mainly because I'm totally in Eldritch's shoes most of the time. You women are so damn irrational. -.- lol.

Psh! Are not! ;P Glad you liked the convo, though. Always liked creating those type of back-and-forth convos.

Anyway, I did enjoy the bit of Dawn and Lucas (those evil ropes again, I almost laughed out loud, and I'm in class). Not too much happening there, though it seemed to me that in the conversation with Eldritch it sounded that Lucas more gave in to Dawn than anything, instead of him kind of thinking that the idea sounds at least a tiny bit plausable. Because I know he deosn't exactly believe it, but in the previous chapter or something, he seemed to actually think it could be possible. But that's just my thinking on the idea.

I would say it's a little of both. More like he ran into a brick wall with his own research and decided to give in and try Dawn's. I would say he's skeptical (I think I even said that in the chapter lol =P). You'll see a bit more later on and how he tries to logically explain things (and may or may not fail in doing so). Yeah, not a lot happened with that scene. It wasn't there originally, but I needed something to break up Eldritch/Aly's scene with Lane's scene, and I kind of exhausted Eldritch/Aly. I wouldn't say Dawn's/Lucas' scene was unimportant since I don't have to bother with the "finding a boat" scene next chapter (lulz). It also connects to the earlier Eldritch/Aly scene. Won't say how, but it'll be explained soon enough.

I did enjoy the little scene with Lane though. Totally what a child would do in that type of situation. Very well done.
Anyway, didn't find any typos so I got nothing in that front.
Well, I anticipate the next chapter.
jirachiman out ;385;

Yeah, fun stuff to write. =P Thanks for reviewing!

So, apparently, I missed a lot.

I didn't think it was possible for this story to get any better in the time I was away, but apparently, it did.

I have come to the realization that I am astonished at your ability to tell so much story in seemingly so little space. I've gotten just barely good enough to do some of the things that you do, and yet I always write chapters that average 30-35 pages a pop and sometimes get as high as 60. Yes, you're reading that correctly, 60 pages. In 10-point font, no less.

Hmm ... I'm not sure it has more to do with writing ability than what is necessary for your plot. Some stories might have a lot more action going on and require more writing; likewise, some stories, like Lull, are more character-centric. I think HLBMA had a 10-20 page per chapter ratio since it was more action-orientated. It also might just be the way I split it up. First two chapters were actually one chapter, but after re-reading a review, I realized the story would have been better off in shorter increments that covered more days than huger increments that could go through a few days. I could have combined a few chapters, but I guess I felt that would be too much information to take in or something.

Thanks for the compliment, though. =) I hoped the story wouldn't be too boring in places but not too overwhelming with detail either (though I figure it may be a little dry with transition scenes. I at least hope it's somewhat amusing to read lol).

Maybe it's my bias as a sucker for romantic subtext, but that one scene in Chapter Ten managed to be really cute and really heartrending at the same time, if that makes any sense.

Yeah, I loved writing this part as well. It was a bit interesting to write both Lucas and Dawn in a semi-different light with feelings that are semi-reciprocating. It was at least interesting to write Dawn as the one that was closed off and Lucas trying to initiate conversation.

I'd like to find out more about either Dawn or about Eldritch himself, but I'm sure that'd happen in due time, and if it didn't, I'm sure there'd be a reason.

There was a bit on Dawn, at least in the reasons why she chose her field of study (chapter 5) and her thought process when analyzing things (chapter 8), and what she wants her family to look like (two boys, one girl, two years apart in age, with the girl being the youngest, and so on =P), though I have some stuff stored for Dawn later. I'm still not sure how I'm going to go about it, but we'll definitely get to know Dawn better.

Same goes for Eldritch. I didn't type that scene in chapter 11 with him and Aly for no reason after all. ;P

But you have a gift for character psychology, and as good as HLBMA was - definitely the best reinvention/novelization of a game world that I've seen by a long shot - I'm not sure that gift ever got the chance to really throw its head back and roar to the degree that it does here. I know you said at one point that Lull was more or less invented as a break from the focus on the HLBMA characters, but I honestly think that it's your best work yet. Keep it up.

Thanks for the HLBMA compliment! I do miss that story. It gave me an entirely different sort of headache compared to the ones I get when trying to write this one, lol. I do agree with you, though. I like to think of this story as what I always wanted HLBMA to look like (but unfortunately lacked the skills to do so all those years ago back when I started).

P.S. Everything you have here is part of the reason that your writing has become a major influence in a lot of things that I do. Would you mind much if I picked your brain a bit at some point in the future?

Picked my brain for what? D: Experiments? No hamster bodies, please. I am flattered, though, so pick away. =) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

 

[Breezy]

I like the word “maybe.” It's a nice word.

...

Diet: Sweets

~ ~ ~
Chapter Twelve
~ ~ ~

Lucas was a fantastic battler, Dawn realized. Actually, she always knew that, but today was the first time in a long time that she saw him battle, and darn he was impressive. It was the only time the guy opened up. Dawn didn't think he was aware of it; he was too caught up in the excitement of battle. It was the only time Lucas was, well, Lucas. Not Lucas the champion, or Lucas, Rowan's apprentice researcher, but Lucas, the original Lucas that got him where he was today. It was here that she saw him smile on his own, a smile that wasn't forced. She wished she could make him smile like that. Sometimes she saw something glimmer in the guy's eye whenever she did something stupid (so rude. Amused by her clumsiness), but it was far from the look on his face when he battled.

Now they were walking back to Canalave from Jubilife, Lucas staring down at his pokéballs and Dawn staring at him, unclipped hair brushing against her cheek. She tossed it behind her, which was in vain as the strands came back to taunt her again, then said, “You were awesome, Lucas.”

This caught the boy's attention. He looked up from his pokéballs. “Hmm?”

“In your battle demonstration, I mean. You're an amazing trainer.”

“I try,” he replied honestly. “It wasn't a real battle. Just a demonstration of moves.”

“Still. Why must you fight my compliments?” she groaned, scuffing the ground with her boot and kicking up dust, letting it swirl and dilute the air in front of her.

Lucas wrapped his hands around each backpack strap and shifted his attention from the girl to the mountains past her, their peaks capped with snow. “It's true. That wasn't even close to my real style,” he said, hands roaming down and gripping the loose ends, swinging them back and forth in timing with his walks.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “And what does your real battle style look like, oh great one?”

“If you're lucky, you might be able to witness it one day.” Had Dawn not known Lucas for a while now, she would assume the boy was being a cocky smart-butt. But no, he was being truthful. A cocky truth teller ... or something.

Dawn skipped a bit, pebbles grinding underneath her feet. Canalave was nearby; she could already see the library from here, its windows reflecting the glint of the afternoon sun. “It's not late to go, is it?” she asked worriedly. “I mean, we are heading out late in the afternoon.” She motioned toward the sky. The sun was heading for the western hills in a brilliant orange blaze, fading into the crisp night the further east she looked. She could already see a few stars, flickering and winking – or were those airplanes?

“Cresselia is a nocturnal pokémon according to reports. I figured we'd spend the rest of the today trying to find where cresselia rests during the day while its out and approach it in the morning when it's dormant. Now, I'm trusting you with this; your stupid – er, myths book may have some info on cresselia that we can interpret into something plausible. Have you looked into it yet? It might have ...”

Lucas hadn't notice that Dawn had stopped in her tracks a while ago, not only amazed that the boy had spoken for more than three sentences straight (and apparently was still babbling) but by what he said. Afternoon until next morning had a nighttime thrown in there, right? They were going to stay overnight? Together? In the same five foot radius? Together? She ... together?

The boy finally stopped talking and turned around once he noticed Dawn wasn't next to him. He raised his eyebrows, pocketing his hands into his jeans.

“So we're staying overnight?” she voiced her thoughts.

“I said that last night, remember?”

She tried to. When did he tell her? Was it when they were getting ice cream? She popped her hip, placing her weight on her right leg, and rested a finger on her chin. Yes, that must be when. She remembered him babbling about the boat ride, and it caused her to daze out. Or was it because she was trying to pick the toppings she wanted on top of her cake batter ice cream? Gummy bears were good, mmm ... So were sprinkles. Ooh! White chocolate chips! ... Oh, he was talking again.

“... bring anything, did you?” was all she heard once she snapped out of it.

“My what?” she repeated.

He sighed. “Figures. I should have known given how light your bag looks.” Dawn patted her bag, feeling the hardcover of her myths book and nothing else.

“You could have reminded me,” she argued feebly.

“You're not four years old. You didn't bring anything?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “Well, besides the stuff I drag around daily.”

“You have ... nothing?”

“I have a ...” she looked down at her bag and grabbed her jacket, waving it in the air, “jacket!”

Dawn heard him sigh and turn back around, heading toward the city. Dawn hung her jacket on top of her bag and chased after him, inhaling the sharp air that almost make her gag. “Well, what am I suppose to do?” she asked once she caught up with the boy, the strong scent of wet grass leaving a burning sensation in her nostrils.

“Stay behind.”

She gaped. “I can't stay behind! You need me! You just told me you did!”

“I told Eldritch we would leave at four. It is a quarter 'til four. You think you have time to go back and get stuff?” They hit a concrete path; Canalave was close.

Dawn sighed and looked at the pokétch wrapped around her bag's strap right above her pokédex. The bold font told her it was 3:47 P.M. Oh, if only she could had a hidden teleport power. Then she could teleport to her room, race around, and gather her sleeping bag and other stuff. After, she would teleport back to Canalave at the docks waaaay ahead of Lucas, much to his chagrin. Oh, perhaps she could find some sort of power that slowed time. Yeah, that's it. Actually, wouldn't that slow her down, too, making the power pointless? So she would have to have the power of speeding ahead of everyone else ... or something. That's just the teleport power, isn't it? This is why all powers should relate to chocolate, darn it!

He wasn't going to leave her behind, was he? She had all the answers. Without her, he wouldn't know what to do. Technically, she didn't either; the book had little – okay, no information on how to “wake” someone up from darkrai's spell. Cresselia had something to do with it, though. Did cresselia have to be there in order for Lane to wake up? Or maybe just a part of her? Would she do a move or something they could copy later? Was it like ... spores? Some sort of sound byte they could record?

Dawn brought both her hands up to her hat and tugged down on it in frustration, letting the material rub against her forehead. There was a slight stamp in her step, her stomps making loud thunks against the concrete. She gazed at the buildings of the seaside town, shops with walls embedded with sand and seashells. They were particular beautiful now; the setting sun was able to catch some sparkle in the grains, making them glitter like diamonds.

“You're really gonna leave me behind?” she whined.

“I can't make you do anything,” he replied airily, eyes set forward toward the wooden docks where resting boats bobbed up and down in the water. “That's up to you. But let's see how long you last without supplies because I don't think I can support two people with what I brought.”

“Please. It can't be that bad.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I've gone camping before,” she added.

“I'm sure you had supplies then,” he muttered.

“Nuh uh! Well, besides a sleeping bag. We caught fish and everything!”

“And I'm sure you brought fishing rods for those fish.”

Dawn wrinkled her nose. “It's true! We were there for two whole days.”

“Only two days?” he asked, eyes glistening in amusement. “We might be on that island for much longer. Overnight was just an estimate. Could be a week for all you know.”

“Excuse me?”

Lucas laced his hands together behind his head and placed them against the nape of his neck, extending his elbows out. “We don't know if cresslia is even there. It could take a while to find her, depending on her big the island is and how fast we travel.” He stopped at the railing, releasing his grip to take hold of the cold metal. He gazed onward. Down the wooden ramp were a few of the ships, their sails lowered. Dawn opted to lean against it, resting her chin on her collarbone.

“I'm not saying this to scare you out of it,” Lucas continued. “I'm just trying to warn you ahead of time. Even if you were thoroughly prepared–” He turned his head slightly to look at her near-empty bag. “–or prepared at all, there could be things you might not be able to handle.”

She crossed her right leg over her left and folded her arms, pressing them against her chest. “Such as?”

“Wild pokémon attacks, hunger, thirst, lack of privacy, tall heights, low heights, dark caves, open spaces, the list goes on.”

She remained quiet, watching people walk by. Her eyes rested on a mother-daughter duo. The mother was holding the hand of her little girl, and clutched in the little girl's hand was a red balloon. It hovered above her at a tilt as it dragged behind. A strong bout of wind blew. Dawn flinched, squinting, her hair brushing against her face and obscuring her vision. Through the dark strands, she saw a ball of red fly by and take toward the skies, followed by a high-pitched yelp.

“Mama!” she heard. “My balloon!”

With one hand, Dawn gathered her hair in one clump, watching as the mother got on her knees to get to her daughter's eye level, gently cupping her face while she said something that made her daughter hug her. Dawn suddenly missed her mother, and then her heart leaped to her throat and made her eyes water as she her thoughts derailed toward Alyson and the scared but protective look on her face as she stood near Lane, holding his hand.

She got the both of them into this; she'd be damned if she didn't follow through. “I don't care. I'm in this until the very end,” Dawn said firmly, nodding.

“Well, okay.” She heard the skepticism in his voice. “It's not too late to change your mind, though.”

“I'm not going to.”

“All right then.”

Lucas turned around and hoisted himself up onto the railing, sitting on the top bar and resting his feet on the middle bar. He looked at his pokétch to check the time before gripping the railing tightly with both hands. Dawn was tempted to push him backward, but they were a good few feet above the sea, and there was a chance he would hit the docks below instead of the water, and if he did hit the docks, he could land head first, breaking his neck, and that would kill him (or something), and she would wind up in prison; and let it be known that she looked absolutely, one-hundred-and-one percent horrible in an orange jump suit (she wouldn't know by experience; she just assumed); and if, by chance, he did hit the water, he would be pissed at her, and that's no way to get a boy to like you (or is it? She could pull it off as a joke. Then she would help him dry off (because that's what the girl character does in romantic comedies (or was this a plain romance? Lucas wasn't that funny (well, not intentionally). Maybe romantic suspense? Will they end up together or not?), which consists of, but is not limited to, poking fun at the guy protagonist), and as she would reach up to wring his hat of water, she would brush her dainty fingers against his cheek, and he–yes, he–would grab her hand gently and pull her in for a kiss – and oh, my goodness, this is just too cute. She should write this down somewhere once she had the chance. And several, several, SEVERAL years from now, they would get married and have kids, two boys, one girl, two years apart in age, with the girl being the youngest. Also, she wanted to live near Hearthrome, and it'll be the most amazing thing ever!) because who likes to get wet? Definitely not her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“3:55.”

“Oh. And he's coming at four?”

“Around there, yeah. Change your mind yet?”

She huffed. “Do you not want me to come or something?”

“It's not that,” Lucas argued. “I just ...” He pursed his lips and looked to the side shiftily. “Never mind.”

She smiled cheekily. “What? Are you worried about me?”

“No,” he quickly replied, his voice in a higher pitch for some reason. He cleared his throat with a grunt. “I could give two shits about you. Three of them, even.”

She nudged him in the arm with her elbow, smirking. “Admit it. Admit you care about me!”

“No. I don't.”

“Fine.” Her grin widened. “But I know you do even if you're too manly to say it. And you know what? I care for you, too!”

“Lord,” he murmured. He looked at his pokétch again, pressing its buttons to flip through its many screens. “Look. I just don't want to deal with your plethora of whining.”

“I don't whine!” she whined.

“Okay.”

She huffed. “You're so infuriating. You know that, right?”

“Flies catch more honey with vinegar or whatever you said that one night.”

“It's 'you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar,' and that idiom isn't even applicable to this conversation.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Him and his stupid “okays.” Ugh, she hated that word with a passion now. How did he get her so riled up with a stupid four letter word in that stupid, dull tone of his? “Is Eldritch here yet?” she asked, annoyed.

Lucas looked down the sidewalk. “Not from what I can see,” he said, looking at the people.

Dawn lowered her head and focused her attention on the gum on the ground, trying to connect them together to make a picture. “I could have ran to the store and bought stuff,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, but you didn't.”

“You said I didn't have time!” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I asked you a rhetorical question. 'Do you think you have time to go back and get stuff?' was what I said. I remember because I was there.”

“That's pretty much saying what I said!”

“No, it's an entirely different thing.” He picked at the dirt in his fingernails and flicked the dirt off his thumb. “One is a question. The other is a statement. Punctuation is key.”

She felt her nose wrinkle in anger, the back of her throat rumble, and her cheeks start to flush. “I'm going to smack you I swear.”

“Okay.”

She had to fight back the urge not to, gripping the metal railing behind her and taking a few deep breaths. She twisted the ball of her right foot back and forth, listening to the gravel crunch under her feet. Why did she have to like the most annoying, most vexing, most cynical boy on the face of Sinnoh – no, the entire planet? Good question. Why did she? Dawn looked the boy up and down, the way his hat always seemed to sit askew on his head, slightly cocked over his blue eyes. His scarf, the ends gently swaying with the breeze, was wrapped tightly around his neck. He was slightly slouched over, relaxed.

She guessed she liked him because he was smart, and, on occasion, nice, but he had to be a complete jerkwad before that. Maybe she liked the challenge of trying to pry open and enter through the boy's tightly guarded mind.

Dawn grabbed for the frays of her scarf and twisted them around her pointer fingers. She did like Lucas when they were younger–not in the same way now, of course–and, as strange as it was, she liked him the way he was now, too. She didn't know why. She always pegged herself as someone who would go for the sensitive type who liked to talk and have fun and watch romantic movies with her. Lucas was, like, the exact opposite of that, blunt but quiet at the same time. He was a riddle that didn't want to be solved. It's weird. She wanted to solve it, of course, but leave it untouched so he'll remain the same Lucas that she started to feel funny toward a few weeks ago. That's impossible, of course.

God, he made her brain hurt.

She never answered her question, though. Why did she like Lucas? Was it really just for the challenge? What a terrible reason. Or maybe because she just ... did. Some things just are, like he said. It was unexplainable–lots of things are–but she felt it, that warm feeling in her stomach. It wasn't cliché, the beautifly that would flap in her stomach when a cute guy would talk to her; it was just ... warm, and different, but nice. It didn't make her giddy like her other crushes. She just ... She just knew she liked it. She knew she liked him, but don't tell him that. He probably secretly knows, the jerk, and he's probably waiting to use it against her because that's what jerks do. They do jerky things. That sounded funny.

Lucas looked at Dawn who was still staring at the ground. “Hey,” he said softly. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked back at him, curious. “Ask me something?”

“Yeah.”

“If it allows me to ask you anything once I think of it later.”

He groaned. “Fine.” He paused, licking his dry lips. “Why are you still ... here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean in Sandgem. You've been a trainer for years now. Longer than I have been, I think.”

She started to fidget uncomfortably, still playing with the ends of her scarf. “Well, yeah,” she replied quietly, looking down.

“So why are you always around here whenever I come back home?”

She had been asked this so many times before, and her answer had remained unchanged. “I don't really need to go all over the region to do my study,” she said monotonously, the answer sketched in her brain. “Jubilife is nearby and is a central town for people and pokémon alike. If I want to observe people and pokémon in interaction or get interviews, I can think of no better place. And, you know, Professor Rowan needs me.” Dawn laughed lightly, awkwardly. “When you're not around, who else will get him coffee and run his errands?”

The boy didn't seemed amused as she looked at him through the corner of her eye. “Yeah?” he finally responded, head tilted. “Well ... okay.”

“Mm.” Dawn turned her head. “There's just no need for me to go around the region like you do. I was never interested in being a battler and competing in the league. There was a time I was interested in being a coordinator but ... I don't know. I suppose that was short-lived.” She felt her throat tightening up, tears on the verge of spilling and messing up her make-up. “I like what I do, honest. I love my study. I love what I do.” She had to pause, trying to straighten out her shaky tone. “It's like you, Lucas, the way your face lights up when you battle. That's how I feel when I'm doing what I do.”

She heard the boy clear his throat, state a, “But,” before closing his mouth.

“Why do you ask?” Dawn questioned, trying to discretely bring a hand up to her face to wipe at her eyes.

“Curious, is all. Was wondering if you, you know, leave.”

There was the bluntness again. It was one of the first insults Lucas picked up whenever she was getting on his nerves. You COULD leave Sandgem, you know. Of course she knew that. But she couldn't. She didn't have to. She didn't want to.

She guessed he picked up on the harshness of his tone was and quick to tack on a, “Not that there's anything wrong with that” in that same airy tone from earlier. He didn't mean it.

“I know.” She managed to blink back the remaining tears and straightened her head once she felt Lucas's gaze bore into the back of her head. “It's not like I haven't thought about traveling. I mean, really traveling. Not taking a train or a bus from one major city to the next.” She snapped her attention toward him, startling the boy. “And say it.”

“Say ... what?”

“What you were going to say earlier.”

“I wasn't going to say anything.”

“'But,''” she quoted. “But what?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “But okay,” was his simple reply. “I don't believe you, you know. 'I don't leave because I don't have to; everything is here for me.' Unlike you, though, I don't pry into territory where I know I'm not wanted.” His face had remained stern which made Dawn mad for some reason.

“It's none of your business,” she said.

“Same goes to you when your prying into my life.”

“That's different!” Dawn glared back at him, cheeks scrunching up. “That's totally different! I do it because I worry about you and want to be your friend! You're doing it to me because you're a jerk!”

“I'm doing it because I was curious,” he replied in his usual calm demeanor. “Like you.”

She huffed, squeezing her folded arms with her hands.

Lucas lifted his arm to check his watch: 4:05. “It's fine doing what you're doing. If you're comfortable with it, then, well, okay. But I think you could learn so much if you do travel around a bit more and throw yourself out of the box. Understanding concepts mean nothing without application. And ...” he sighed. “You're a ... nice–” She saw Lucas's face crinkle, “–person. It's not like you would have trouble meeting people outside this area.”

“I'm not scared of that.”

“So you're scared of something.”

“I never said that either.”

“I won't pry. I just thought it would be a thing you would have adored doing, going out and meeting people from all over the region.” Lucas kicked his legs out to stretch them, staring at his shoes before putting them back on the railing. “But okay.”

Dawn twisted one of her golden barrettes out of her hair, letting her bangs tease her forehead, and rolled the clasp in her hand, smudging the sheen with her fingertips. Something was burning inside her chest. It wasn't the same warm sensation she got whenever she thought of her and Lucas together. This was entirely different; this was an entirely new sensation that she hadn't felt in a while. Pain, humiliation, guilt. It had bubbled up to her throat, like vomit – or was it really vomit? She hated it.

Lucas had good intuition; all brilliant trainers do. So when Lucas told her that he didn't believe her, she wasn't surprised. Everyone has a sad story inside them; some are just sadder than others. She knew better than to feel bad, especially when compared to Lucas's history. Perhaps that is the sad part about it – her life is so mundane that it's not worth mentioning to others.

Tell a story. Make it more interesting.

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who had a loving father, a loving mother, and a loving younger sister, and they all lived together in a loving home. When she turned ten, she managed to pass the exams to obtain her trainer's license. Afterward (yawn), she skipped right on over to Professor Rowan's laboratory to see if she could sign up as an apprentice. More boring tests (more yawns) later, she managed to get accepted after an interview. She was his shadow for a while; she followed him constantly, and she helped him the best that she could. Eventually, inspired by the professor's own evolution studies, she decided to branch out and figure out the connection between pokémon and humans and how these relationships sometimes trigger a pokémon to evolve. Yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn. There's an interesting plot point thrown in there somewhere. What, though, she didn't know.

Why didn't she leave home? Why didn't she try to find more adventure if she knew her life was pretty dull compared to everyone else's? Well, she liked the comfort. She liked knowing that everyone around her liked her.

So you're scared of something. Maybe she was. She knew she did well here, but to put yourself on the line once you leave the safety of home ... She didn't get how Lucas could do it on a day-to-day basis; he obviously has issues–big ones–from doing so. And maybe it was pressure from others, pressure to please or whatever, but he was always out there, getting into trouble, getting into adventure. He didn't want to talk about it, but he at least had something to talk about once he did.

She could go into dramatics, this fear, and concoct a reason plausible for her situation. She could say she was attacked by a wild pokémon while walking outside the city one day that made her scared to leave home, though everyone is attacked at least once in their life, and she wasn't scared of that. She had no money. Not true, either. Her family would support her, like they do in all aspects of her life. Professor Rowan needed her. No, he has the great Lucas on his side.

Dawn likes stories, but you should already know that. The beginnings, the characters, the morals, but she always liked the endings the most. The happily-ever-afters. Or the empty, lonely feelings you get after a particularly sad story. But you can never get there if there's no climax, no plot-turning moment where everything falls into place – or more rattled than ever. She didn't know. Maybe one day she'll finally leave, but she was happy and content now. Most people spend the rest of their lives looking for that. Why look for something you already have?

“Why risk it?” she accidentally said out loud.

“Risk what?” Of course he would question back.

Dawn turned her attention toward Lucas (his gaze was intense that it left her breathless for a second), gathering her hair and clipping it behind her golden barrette. “When you're out there traveling, aren't you scared?”

“Of what?”

“Failing.”

Something thoughtful crossed his face. “Honestly, no,” he said after a while, lifting his hand to rub at the corner of his eye. “To your question ... 'Why risk it?' I ask that about a lot of things. But failure? I'm not afraid of failure.”

Dawn nodded. He continued. “I guess I don't think I'll ever fail. It's cocky to say that.” She saw a grin twitch on his face. “There's too much pressure on me to fail. I'd be angry with myself if I did.”

“Boys.” She sighed.

“Maybe.” He gripped the railing tight in his hands and leaned back, letting the afternoon sun rays soak through his shirt. “Is that it? You're scared of failing?”

“Yes–no. I don't know. I'm happy with where I am,” she said, the wind lifting her hair and grazing it softly against her cheek.

He looked at her so thoughtfully, so curiously, so sympathetically, and she felt her stomach twist again, this time in complete astonishment that the boy actually took genuine interest and concern with one of her problems. “Hmm,” he finally said, his voice pleasantly vibrating near the end of his statement.

She paused, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn't. “Is that all you're going to say? 'Hmm'?”

“I'm not sure what else to say.”

“You were doing so well.”

He rolled his eyes, swinging his legs back and forth. “You're happy?” he repeated, his voice a bit jittery from his leg movements.

Dawn smiled. “I like to think that I am.”

“I'm jealous,” he replied plainly.

“Same,” she said.

Dawn saw his left hand release its grasp around the railing, and she saw him reach out toward her tentatively, but he quickly redrew it, clasping it around the back of his sweaty neck instead. “Maybe one day we'll both get what we want.”

She wanted him.

“Maybe,” she said, eyes alight.

Lucas noticed the short, stout figure of Daniel Eldritch walking toward them. In between the fingers of his right hand was a lit cigarette, ashes from the tip escaping its confines and floating toward the earth. He jumped off the railing, readjusting the backpack straps on his back. “But anyway, what are you afraid of risking?”

Dawn pushed herself back up as well, quickly grabbing her jacket before it could slip off of her bag. “Happiness,” she said quietly, thoughtfully, as the two of them began walking toward the hefty sailor. “What about you?”

He blinked at her a few times. “The same.”

 

[jirachiman876]

Yay!!! Another chapter, and so quickly. Very interesting, we finally get a look at Dawn and some of her issues. Which I'm glad she has. Obviously she has some, but we finally get to really know them. Anyway, I'm rambling again. Great Chap. I noticed a couple typos (actually more than I usually see), but nothing too major and that's not so important anyway. I really like these chapters about Dawn and Lucas, I really like seeing the relationship progress throughout all these little scenes. Even though both of them are pretty screwed up anyway. lol. But hey, who isn't nowadays?
Anyway, not too much plotwise has happened, so I don't really have much to comment on that.
Can't wait to read the next installment.
jirachiman out ;385;

 

[Mallymkun]

Loved the ending to this chapter. I don't know if I've ever stated this before, but I really like Dawn's character. She shows the most growth out of all the rest. Can't spot any mistakes except for maybe this one:

Why did she have to like the most annoying, most vexing, more cynical boy

I believe that's supposed to be "most."

 

[Breezy]

Yay!!! Another chapter, and so quickly. Very interesting, we finally get a look at Dawn and some of her issues. Which I'm glad she has. Obviously she has some, but we finally get to really know them. Anyway, I'm rambling again. Great Chap. I noticed a couple typos (actually more than I usually see), but nothing too major and that's not so important anyway. I really like these chapters about Dawn and Lucas, I really like seeing the relationship progress throughout all these little scenes. Even though both of them are pretty screwed up anyway. lol. But hey, who isn't nowadays?
Anyway, not too much plotwise has happened, so I don't really have much to comment on that.
Can't wait to read the next installment.
jirachiman out ;385;

Yeah, t'was fun to write in Dawn's perspective for an entire chapter instead of small sections of it. It took me awhile to plan out her background, though, for some reason. I always knew what I wanted to do with Lucas, but Dawn was (and still is, to an extent) a mystery to me. In a way, I made that her problem. =P

Yeah, this chapter was sloppy. Think I was too eager to post it. I'll go around and edit it after this examination period.

I like 'em a little messed up. Makes the story more interesting and kind of more believable, too.

Thanks for reviewing! =)

Loved the ending to this chapter. I don't know if I've ever stated this before, but I really like Dawn's character. She shows the most growth out of all the rest. Can't spot any mistakes except for maybe this one:

Why did she have to like the most annoying, most vexing, more cynical boy

I believe that's supposed to be "most."

Writing the ending to this chapter made me feel weird. More pensive than usual. T'was odd. But I like it too (if I'm allowed to say that about my own work, lol).

I actually never thought of Dawn as the one that's growing the most, but you are right. Lucas is pretty stagnant now after all he's been through, but Dawn has changed quite a bit from the start of this story ... well, she seems to have laid off interrogating Lucas a bit anyway. =P At the same time, she seems to have trouble changing seeing as she's afraid to venture onward. Then again, she's able to change pieces of her in order to adapt. Then again ... Ugh, never realized how complex I made Dawn. Lucas' is more obvious (even if he doesn't want it to be) which makes it slightly less complex, but the mystery around Dawn is what seems to make her more complicated. Rawr. =P

Thanks for catching that typo. Will fix it soon! And thanks for reviewing! =)

 

[Breezy]

Have you ever thought of your life in seconds? How if you were five seconds ahead or five seconds behind, you would be drastically different? I think the consensus is things are up to fate, an undetermined destiny waiting to be found. But I think it's up to timing. I'm not sure what my point is. I think it's interesting how some things are because you were at the right place at the right time. Or wrong. Or whatever.

Barry tells me it is up to decision, the smaller events that turn into significant ones. Of course Barry knows no other time than being late. Maybe it's both. Timing and decision.

Do both of those make fate?

...

Habitat: The city/suburbs

~ ~ ~
Chapter Thirteen
~ ~ ~

The streets were gold that night. It rained earlier, and it was still raining albeit in drizzle, so the asphalt was wet and reflected the lights. Lane remembered because it was one of his rare nighttime drives with Dad. Dad sometimes had to run late night errands, and if it was the weekend, and if he finished all his homework, and if he ate all his dinner, yucky asparagus and all, he would get to go with him. Sometimes they got ice cream. He liked ice cream, specially chocolate with chocolate chips in a waffle cone.

“Dad?” he asked as he reached over to adjust the jeep's air conditioner vents. Hot air blasted him in the face, warming his cheeks and tingling his nose. “What are we gonna get Mom for her birthday?”

Dad let out a soft, “Hmm,” through pursed lips, reaching over to turn down the radio. “What do you think is a good present for her?” Lane saw him shift his left hand to flick something up, and the right blinker turned on, sounding a pleasant “click CLICK” for a few seconds. It turned off when they turned right into a business district, tall buildings that bordered the streets.

Lane didn't answer right away. He turned his head and looked out the window, the lights of the street posts flying by in streaked blurs as they drove past them. It was raining lightly, and the streets were wet, and it reflected the gold lights. It made him dizzy if he stared too long.

“A gold necklace!” he shouted.

Dad let out another gruff, “Hmm.”

“One that has a M!” Lane continued excitedly, turning toward Dad, the leather interior crunching underneath his rump. “For 'Mom!'”

“How about 'A' for 'Alyson?'” replied Dad as he ran his hands down to the bottom of the leather steering wheel, both pointer fingers resting lightly in its groove. “Or how about one of those,” Dad lifted his right arm and shook it back and forth, “you know. Those ... charm bracelet things? One that has both letters?”

Lane beamed. “Yeah! Let's do that! And L, too! For Lane! And D! For you! Er, Dad! Uh, you!”

Dad laughed, and it made Lane smile wider. “Or E, for Eldritch.”

“We should put the entire alphabet on it!” Lane yelled, bouncing in his seat. “And numbers!”

“How about we just stick to 'A' and 'L' and 'E,' Lane?” Dad eased on the brakes as they approached a red light, breaking the streets of gold.

Lane scrunched his face up, tying the letters together. “That spells 'ale,' Dad!”

He saw Dad grin. “How 'bout that?” The light turned green. Dad stepped on the gas, and they passed the stoplight, and the streets were gold once more. “We'll just mix the letters around.”

They continued driving, him and Dad. He wasn't driving in case there's confusion. He couldn't reach the stupid pedals yet, but he liked to pretend he could – er, drive, not reach the pedals. Or maybe both. He would sit in the driver's seat, and he would grip the wheel and go “Vroom!” which made his lips vibrate and saliva splatter. But that wasn't the point. What was the point?

They were driving down the business district tonight. Lane liked how the streets looked gold because of the streetlamps and rain, and he was gonna comment on them, say how fun it would be if the streets were frozen instead of wet so they could ice skate on them, but there was an abrupt stop. His seat belt did that annoying thing when it latches onto something and pulls you back and chokes you. It probably did it for Dad, too, 'cause he heard him groan.

Lane looked ahead and noticed they were on a single set of train tracks. The single red-and-white plank that served as a barrier between cars and trains was lowered, barely touching the jeep's hood. The bells were chiming, the loud “DING DING DING” ringing in his ears and making his head rattle. Red lights flashed before his eyes.

He heard Dad cuss and saw him turn his head to look out the foggy back window. He repeated the same cuss. “Just drive through it,” Dad whispered. “It's only one small track, and if you don't, you might get killed.”

“Dad?” Lane asked worriedly, gripping the top half of his seat belt and trying to loosen it from its locked grip-of-death.

“Don't tell Mom,” was Dad's reply as he floored it. The engine roared, and they broke the wooden barrier into pieces. The jeep rattled as it crossed the two metal railings.

Then more train tracks. They came out of nowhere–there were at least five more sets–and Dad angrily gripped the wheel, gritted his teeth, and sped up. As they were about to pass the last set of train tracks, there was a flash of gold–the streets of gold – wait, no!–and Lane turned his head toward his wind– DAD, WE'RE GONNA GET HIT BY

~ ~ ~​

“It's not too late to go back, you know.”

Dawn stood still on the grassy hill, watching Eldritch's small motor boat leave the shore, its engine rumbling loudly and kicking up water before fading away the further the sailor got. All left was her, Lucas, and the jacket she was so proud of carrying around after that one freezing night in Canalave. But now they weren't in Canalave. They were some on random island.

Alone.

Together.

Wait. How does that work?

The girl shivered, sliding the strap of her bag off her shoulder and placing it on the floor so she could throw the sleeves of her jacket around her bare arms. “Well, he's gone. I think it would be,” she replied dryly.

“He's not that far out. One quick phone call away.” Lucas waved his cellphone in the air before pocketing it. “Up to you, though.”

She picked her bag back up and crossed her arms. “I'm not leaving. I'm sticking through with this.”

“Fine.”

He turned his back toward her and stared at the trees, most which he identified as olive, their trunks thick and twisting. Despite being in the occasionally heavy gale, the trees had most of their tiny, green leaves, though rotten fruit was resting around its base. Swarms of tiny gnats were flying around them. His eyes swept back and forth across the windswept terrain, the grass long and waving gently in greeting.

Figuring out if a unknown terrain was safe or not to travel through was something Lucas did quite often being a traveler and all. The first rule was to figure out if an area was safe. The second rule was never to talk about the first rule. Or was that only for fight club? Either way, he deemed the island practically desolate given there was enough fruit to rot. The island seemed fertile enough with how fresh everything was (and in such windy weather, he noted for the second time). It left him wondering why pokémon weren't here in the first place. Of course, maybe it was too early to judge. Maybe there were pokémon within the heavily-shaded forest, trying to protect themselves from the winds. (Did Lucas mention it was windy?) So that's where they would be staying, somewhat tucked into the forest but still near the border, like a person sleeping with one leg outside the blanket and one leg in. You're still getting warmth, sure, but if, for some reason, you need to kick a person down, you're more than prepared. (Also, it's windy. Swear to god.)

Lucas doubted Dawn thought of such things when she was admiring the scenery. While his primary concern was the safety of him and her, hers was how pretty the wild flowers were and ooh, look at the birds above, Lucas! And wow, those trees are HUGE!

“Look at them!” she urged, pointing. “You could build such an epic tree house in those things! And the flowers!” She bent down and plucked up a dandelion, the stem oozing sticky goo onto her fingers. She pressed the yellow petals in between her fingers before throwing the weed behind her. “So many flowers!” She balanced herself on her left leg and moved her right leg in small circles, twirling the dandelions and long grass around her ankles.

“Dandelions are weeds,” he muttered.

She ignored this, like he assumed, as she stretched her arms above her head and breathed in deeply, taking in the salty air that tingled her nostrils. “So where do we start?” Dawn asked, dropping her arms and letting them swing by her sides, her knuckles brushing against her thighs.

Lucas began to head toward the shelter of trees up the small hill's incline, and Dawn quickly followed after him like the good puppy she was. “We start by finding a safe place to make camp before it gets too dark while Honchkrow evaluates the island,” he replied, one hand wrapping around the strap of his backpack. He turned his head to look at the girl. She was already breathing heavily, and the space between the two of them was growing wider; her short legs were no match for Lucas's long strides.

“Honchkrow?” she managed to breathe out.

“The evolved form of murkrow,” he explained. “An average height of two feet, eleven inches, weighing fifty-five to sixty pounds, and a dark and flying type, honchkrow are a usually ruthless, terrifying breed of pokémon known to–”

“I know what a honchkrow is!” Dawn snapped. “But what is it going to do?”

Lucas stopped, much to Dawn's relief as she scurried like a squirrel to stand by his side. He shrugged his backpack from his shoulders, pressing it against his chest. With a free hand, he reached around to the small, front pocket, the one that had the pokéball emblem stitched into it, and unzipped it, digging around until he pulled out a black case. He handed it to Dawn as he threw his backpack back on. “Open it.”

Dawn blinked a few times and curiously ran her hand down the fine leather case, feeling the cold, metal hinges on the back before working her way to the front and smudging the silver latches. She opened them, the action leaving the tips of her fingers with a stinging sensation, and peered inside. The carefully kept item looked like a collar, also made of black leather, and it had some sort of half-sphere object connected to it in the middle.

“What is it?” she asked, cautiously picking up the collar by the end and staring at the sphere. It glimmered in the bright orange gaze of the setting sun.

Lucas's head was down, gazing at the pokéballs clipped to his belt. He picked one up and pressed the button, letting the ball enlarge in his hand. “Long story short, it's a camera. I can set it to take a picture every minute or so from my 'dex and it uploads the pictures to it. It's pretty handy when you're in areas you don't know. I hook the collar around Honchkrow's foot, and he flies around while the camera takes photos.”

“How neat! It takes pictures? How? Show me.” Dawn held both ends of the collar in front of her, her nose inches away from the red sphere. “Take a picture!” she exclaimed, noticing her distorted reflection in the glass.

“You heard nothing past, 'It's a camera,' huh?” he muttered, pulling his pokédex from his pocket and flicking open the cover. He held down a button on the side, and the device turned on with a fizzle and crack. He pressed a few more buttons, each press emitting a beep. “There. Now the camera is on 'manual' mode with auto focus, so all I have to do is press this button here and it takes a–”

“Gimme!” Dawn held the collar with one hand and swiped the pokédex out of Lucas's hand with the other. She pressed the button, smiling. The camera on the collar twisted around a bit before it took a picture. Quickly, she looked down at the pokédex's screen, watching as the picture uploaded. “Omigosh, that's a cute one. Send it to me later.”

She turned her head and caught the end of Lucas's eye roll. “One more!” she said, wrapping the arm holding the pokédex around Lucas's shoulders and stretching her other arm out. Before Lucas could react, and by react he meant pull away, Dawn had already taken the picture. She released him from her grasp, knocking the pokédex against the back of his head and knocking his beret askew.

“So adorable. You better not delete this,” she warned as she closed the lid of the pokédex and handed it and the collar back to the boy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, readjusting his beret. Lucas flicked the 'dex back open with his thumb while thrusting the pokéball in his hand into the air. The colors on the ball blurred together as it spun around, releasing the creature within. It reshaped itself into the formation of a bird, its two, wide wings spreading out and flapping as the pokémon flew above them.

“Good day, Honchkrow.” Lucas gave the crow a nod. “Hope I'm not bothering you.”

Lucas found this particular honchkrow–actually, murkrow–late at night in the Eterna Forest. It was the first pokémon he caught on his own, and the first pokémon, out of many, that drove him batshit insane. It didn't strike him as odd that he found his murkrow alone at the time (apparently murkrow like to stick together and follow after a leader honchkrow), but the more he researched the breed, the more he realized that his murkrow was a rebel, a freethinker who liked to disobey the will of his leader and did whatever the fuck he wanted, mostly for the giggles, but the bird was damn loyal when he needed to be.

Today, Honchkrow decided to rest on Dawn's head, his claws digging into the girl's white hat, and no matter how much she nudged her head to get the bird to fly off (or maybe it was so she could see him), he didn't budge. He instead cawed, clicking his beak and staring at Lucas through his beady, red eyes.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Honchkrow nodded, lowering his head, the crest of feathers preened into the shape of a fedora hiding his eyes.

“Get him off me!” Dawn complained, raising her arms and trying to swipe at the bird. Honchkrow raised his head and smirked (how the hell do birds with beaks smirk? Dawn's piplup gave him that same look days ago), taking a step back and digging his feet deeper into Dawn's hair. “He's pulling my hair out!” she screeched, dropping her arms and tugging at her bottom strands.

Lucas pocketed his honchkrow's pokéball and stepped toward the two. “Stop moving and he'll stop moving,” he said, raising his hand and gently brushing his knuckles against the soft tuft of white feathers that adorned the crow's chest. “I have a favor to ask, Honchkrow.”

Honchkrow responded by lifting a heavy wing and digging his beak underneath it.

“I need you to fly around with the collar for a while. I haven't been here before, so it would be nice to have pictures to evaluate the island.”

Honchkrow lifted his head and dropped his wing, tilting his head to the side. He cawed three times. Sharply, too.

Lucas sighed. “Don't ask me why. Or why we're not at the Battle Frontier.”

“GET HIM OFF MY HEAD!” Dawn shouted, rolling her eyes up to get a glimpse at the bird. “He's hurting – ow! Stop digging your stupid feet into my – OUCH! LUCAS!”

The boy ignored her. “Anyway, want to help me? I really need it.”

Honchkrow raised both wings and flapped them a few times to fly from Dawn's head to Lucas's shoulder. He felt the crow press the side of his head against the top of his, watching Dawn take a step back and sharply exhale. She looked startled for some reason, her eyes wide, her mouth partially open as the tips of her front teeth scraped lightly against her bottom lip.

“Croooow ...” the bird said slowly, his tongue rolling. He clicked his beak and whistled, looking Dawn up and down which further confused her.

“I ...” Lucas hesitated. “I'm glad you do, I guess. Not that I need it. Why do you even care?”

The bird cawed again.

“I am not. I have you guys for that.”

A high-pitched whistle and two sharp caws.

“No.”

Another caw.

“No.”

The following caw was angrier.

“I'm not – no. You're being ridiculous.”

“Um, what's going on?” asked Dawn, taking off her cap and examining it for possible holes the bird could have created with his sharp claws.

Again, Lucas ignored her. “I'm not going to do that. I don't even like – ouch!” Honchrow dug his claws into the boy's shoulder. “Okay, okay. Fine. After this entire thing is over, I will. Happy?”

The bird let out a cheerful caw.

Lucas sighed and lifted his right arm which the bird hopped onto. He clipped the collar around Honchkrow's left foot. “Now get outta here, you stupid bird. You drive me nuts.” He thrust his arm up, and the bird took off, circling around the researchers' head before taking off, crying out his name a few times. Dawn didn't take his eyes off him, holding her hat tightly between her fingers. Even when she couldn't see him anymore, she didn't take her eyes off the sky, admiring the soft pinks and oranges that made up the sunset at the horizon and the sharp purple that took over the sky above her head.

She looked back down. After finding her hat undamaged, Dawn placed it back on her head and pulled down on the edges firmly. “What was that all about?” she asked curiously as Lucas toyed around with the settings on his pokédex.

“I guess a picture every twenty seconds should be enough,” he muttered to himself before he closed his pokédex and pocketed it. He felt Dawn's gaze on him, so he looked up. “What?”

“That conversation with your honchkrow. What were you talking about?”

“Annoying stuff,” he said with an eye roll. “C'mon. Let's find somewhere safe to make camp for the night before we head out. It's going to get dark.”

Dawn nodded in agreement, and the two took off, entering the safety of olive trees.

~ ~ ~​

Today was the big day.

Correction. Today was the day before the big day because today was the day Lane would finally take the terrifying, horrible, but awesome pokémon trainer's license test. School had been preparing him for this day for years on the basics of, like, everything. How to take care of a pokémon, basic battle skills, and much, much more, (plus shipping & handling), and he was totally prepared! He studied for once! And once he passed, tomorrow would be the day he'd finally get his long sought after trainer's license!

The test took place in room 305, the one room closest to the boy's bathroom on the third floor that always flooded because the rule was that the urinals should never be flushed, even if they were filled to the brim. The room was busy and antsy as people were waiting for the test examiner to enter. Julie was sitting next to him, organizing her pencils with pokémon-shaped erasers into neat lines. One hand was twirling a brown pigtail around her pointer finger. Francis was behind him.

“Hey.” Francis tapped him on the shoulder, and Lane turned his head. “What berry cures paralysis?”

“Four,” said Lane.

“Ah.” Francis quickly scribbled the answer down on a scrap piece of paper while nodding. “Right. Thanks, Dumbo.”

“I don't think you need to know how to bake leppa pie, though,” Lane added.

“I figured, but just in case,” muttered Francis. “If I don't pass ...”

Lane turned toward Julie who was weirdly quiet. “Hey, Julie! You nervous?”

It took Julie a while to notice Lane was talking to her. “Oh. Yeah,” she replied, not ripping her eyes away from her study sheet, still twirling her hair around her finger.

Another tap on the shoulder. Lane turned away from Julie to look at another girl with long, blonde hair that hid the right side of her face. “Is anyone sitting in this seat?” she asked, gesturing to the seat on Lane's right side.

“Not that I know of.”

“I'm actually saving that seat for someone,” said another girl in the seat behind the empty one.

Julie finally lifted her head. “Says the girl eating the apple,” she scoffed.

There was a loud slam, and everyone jumped, shut up, and turned their attention toward the white board in front. Mrs. Hall was giving the test. She was such a witch.

“Seats! Everyone seats!” she barked, dropping a heavy manilla folder on the front table, making the picture frames on it rattle.

The blonde girl next to him quickly took the empty seat despite the other girl's protests, and Mrs. Hall started to pass the exams down the long rows of desks. Lane took one, a heavy packet that was at least two hundred questions long.

“You have thirty minutes to complete the exam,” explained Mrs. Hall as she continued to pass out exams, walking in front of the class. “If you miss more than three, you automatically fail.”

Lane flipped through the packet. All the questions were short answer.

“This is easy,” he heard Francis mutter.

Everyone's heads were bent down, pencils scribbling, erasers squeaking. Lane looked down at the first question. A piplup and turtwig are resting in Professor Rowan's laboratory in Sandgem, he read. Assuming these two, for some reason, start to fight, how fast is the train going if powered by the Valley Windworks generator?

Next question. Explain the benefits of the steel type pokémon when fighting a poison type. How would this help if your house was on fire?

Third question. Your parents are fighting again. Why? Use rope.

It was at this point Lane heard someone “psst!”-ing him, and he snapped his head to the right and glared at the blonde girl. “What?” he whispered back furiously.

“Lemme see your test. I have no idea what number four is,” she replied quietly.

“No. We'll get in trouble,” he hissed back.

“Lane!” yelled Mrs. Hall from the front desk, slamming a book shut that made the class jump again. “Are you cheating?”

“No, ma'am,” Lane denied, wringing his pencil in his hands. “This stupid girl here keeps buggin' me about–”

“Up front! And bring your test!”

He had to. So he did. She ripped the test in front of him.

“Try again next year,” she said with a wicked grin.

~ ~ ~​

“Let's not think of this as a day of failure. Let's think of it as a day of ... of ...” Dawn bit her lip and wrinkled her nose. “A day of ... something that isn't failure.”

Lucas didn't reply as she sat on the opposite side of the campfire, the flames illuminating his face in a warm, orange glow. Dawn sat cross-legged in a patch of long grass, the blades tickling her calves. She was fiddling with something in her hands, watching as Lucas, with his head lowered, flicked through his pokédex, examining the photographs his honchkrow had captured with the camera.

It certainly wasn't a day of failure for her. It was such a pretty day. It was such a pretty island. The colors were vibrant. Wild flowers were everywhere. And there were these pretty pink, blue, and yellow feathers scattered across the island, some stuck in bushes, others dancing with the breeze. She caught a few for herself, and she was busy trying to tie them together so she could clip them to a key chain ring. It would make such a lovely accessory for her bag. The colors of the feather matched it nicely.

If Lucas was too busy examining the pictures, she would spend her time examining the forest. Trees. Lots of trees that towered over them. They found a nice clearing where the thick canopy didn't block their vision from the night sky above. The moon was partially hidden behind some clouds. The stars were bright. She connected a few together. She knew nothing about constellations and what they were called when they were connected together, but she knew stars were pretty. And that's all that matters, isn't it?

The thick trees managed to block out most of the chilly wind, which was good, though it still managed to make the flames from the fire flicker, sending up bright cinders that floated away freely before dissipating into nothing. They reminded her of lightning bugs. She remembered trying to catch lightning bugs in empty jelly jars when she was little, but then she felt bad when she caught a few. Her favorite part was releasing them and watching them fly out of the jar in a tizzy as they scattered across the field and tricking her eyes into believing that they, too, were the pretty stars.

She wasn't sure what Lucas was expecting out of today. He didn't seem to have high hopes of doing anything today, though she knew he didn't want to stay here long either. They were wandering, walking about with no idea of where to go, what to do, or if even being here had importance. They also flew in tizzies. They were the lightning bugs.

She knew it bugged him, this aimless wandering, this vague idea, this almost pointless expedition. She could tell with his constant nagging of, “Are you sure there's nothing more in that book?” and, “There has to be something more.” But there wasn't. They were here on a whim. A fairy tale. A myth. And god, that bugged him. She knew this well.

Dawn connected the feathers to her keyring while licking her lips. “Lucas?” she asked tentatively as she gently petted the set of feathers in her hand. “Are you busy?”

She heard him mutter something to himself. He finally looked up, the flames reflecting in his blue eyes. “What?” he asked over the crackling.

Dawn stretched her legs out, staring at the tops of her boots, and pulled her bag onto her thighs. “Remember how I said you could ask me anything if I could ask you anything back later?” She hooked the key chain to her bag's zipper, admiring the feathers as they swayed. She placed her bag back next to her and leaned back on her hands, gazing into the fire. She could feel the heat burn her eyes (or was that from fatigue?), but the heat the fire gave off felt so good on her skin, especially after wandering around in the cold for so long.

It took him a while to respond with a reluctant, “Yeah.”

“I would like to use it now.” She grinned, sitting up, drawing hearts in the dirt with her pointer fingers. The grains started to roll up and get caught under her nail beds.

Lucas turned his attention back to the open pokédex resting in his lap, using his finger to flick through the photos lazily. “Fine. Ask.”

She took her time, trying to phrase her question properly as she continued to draw hearts, sometimes initialing them with D's and L's. “How come you don't like stories?”

“Stories?” he repeated, not looking up, his neck strained. He shifted his legs to get comfortable, wrinkling the sleeping bag underneath him.

Dawn's noticed a longer feather she had found on her exploration next to her thigh. She held it up by the shaft. It had the same colors as the ones she had connected to her key chain ring, but something in this feather's barb glimmered whenever light hit it at a certain angle. “Yeah. Remember that one night you freaked out on me in the library when I first discovered the darkrai story?” she replied, her eyes starting to cross over the closer she brought the feather to her nose.

Lucas placed his pokédex next to his thigh and uncrossed his legs, letting his socked feet rest closer to the fire to warm up his toes. “That day was rough for both of us,” he said, “in different ways.”

Dawn dropped her hand and carefully placed the long feather in a side pocket of her bag. “I know. But you just seemed to ... snap when I brought it up. So why? Why do you not like myths?”

Lucas dug the heels of his feet into the dirt, not caring that he was dirtying his white socks. He found an odd pleasure feeling dirt grind underneath his feet. “I don't think it's that. I don't think I dislike myths.”

“No?”

“I mean ... Well ... I guess I do. But not for the reason you think, I think.” He frowned, brow furrowing. “They cause trouble. For everyone. They dilute the truth. But people are more apt to believe stories. It bothers me in a way. You spend all the time with your study, and you try to get it published, and you try to educate others in your study, but they're quick to refute it with some story, some rumor, that they heard from their neighbor. 'I heard this, Lucas. So that can't be right.' Things like that.”

“I don't think you can blame storytelling for that.” Dawn pulled the ends of her jacket's sleeves over her balled fists to keep them warm. She pulled her legs back toward her body and curled them underneath her rump. “Stories are one part telling, the other part interpreting.”

“I get that,” he murmured, carefully placing his pokédex next to his backpack behind him. He fumbled with the latch of his belt–his fingers were a bit numb from the nipping wind–but he managed to unclasp it, pulling the belt off and holding it up in the air, the six pokéballs clipped to it gleaming in the firelight. He placed it on top of his bag, letting the balls hang over the side. “I also get that they are important in telling a history that none of us were there to witness, so you can bypass that argument as well.”

“I doubt that's why you get so antsy about them,” she said skeptically.

“Twenty questions time is over,” he replied, unzipping his sleeping bag and pulling up the cover so he could slide in. His head hit his pillow as he lay down. After throwing the cover back over his body, Lucas pulled his hands out and laced them behind his neck, staring up at the stars.

“C'mon!” she whined while swiftly moving her hands forward, erasing her hearts. “You said you would answer anything if I answered what you asked earlier, and you didn't answer what I asked even though I answered what you asked, and that's not fair! I want my answer!”

“Mind unscrambling that tangent for me?”

“Answer me!” she demanded again. “Be honest! And truthful!”

Lucas heaved out another annoyed sigh. “'Why do I dislike myths?'” he reiterated slowly. He paused. He thought. He answered. “I dislike how ... simplified they are.”

He didn't expect her to respond, so he continued, his gaze focused on the sky. “I dislike how people–people who have no idea of what actually happened–are able to take an event and simplify it into a condensed version for the sake of storytelling. There are always parts missing, questions unanswered, feelings unaddressed, in order to make a tale more compelling ...” He rolled over to look at her. “And instead of objectivity, you end up with half-truths that ignite some extreme form of emotion for the sake of emotion. It's usually fear, and that fear gets passed on, and no one ends up doing anything about the subject matter. It makes people lazy. They become stagnant, fulfilled with what they were told.”

He watched as Dawn brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “And that is why I dislike myths,” he finished. “'Honestly and truthfully.'”

Dawn stared back, their eyes locked in battle. He lost; he blinked away, awkward. “So if that's true, why did you decide to go along with my idea?” she asked thoughtfully after a few seconds of silence.

He rolled onto his back, pulling his arms into the safety of his covers. “You seem like you want to do something about it,” he said quietly. “Do I believe it? I don't know. I don't think I do. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why we're here. But you're determined, and you honestly care. You're trying to change things, and I respect that even if I don't like it.”

“And how could you say no to this face?” she teased.

He groaned. “Good night,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Good night, Lucas,” she said with a smile as the boy settled into his sleeping bag. She couldn't help but stare at him enviously. It wasn't the best looking sleeping bag. Years of travel managed to rough it up, and she had no idea if Lucas washed it at all with all the dried mud caked on top of the blue, waterproof material. She could make out the flannel insides from here, a checkered pattern of green and red, and it, too, looked pretty worn down and flat. Still, it was better than having a coat as a blanket and a bag as a pillow. But she was a tough girl! She could rough it for a night ... or two. God, she hoped they wouldn't be there for a week.

She moved her bag a little and started to lay down, resting her head on the top of it. The back of her head could feel its contents: there was her brush to her left, the myths book on the bottom. The empty bag of chips she had devoured earlier crinkled with each move of her head. Whose bright idea was this? Why did she come? Sure, the stars were pretty. The forest was pretty. She found pretty feathers. And she was all alone with Lucas. But darn it all. This wasn't what she had in mind. She didn't like the itchy feel of grass under her legs. She didn't like that she had to take off her boots every half hour to empty it of dirt. And she definitely didn't like the leaves that got tangled in her hair – or her hair being tangled period. The back of her mind (stupid conscious) kept telling her it was worth it, though. It's for Lane, it's for Lane, it's for Lane, she repeated in her head. It's for Alyson, too, and Eldritch. It's for the entire family. It is worth it.

It is not, she argued back. I am tired, hungry, and cold.

But it could help Lane!

Says the thing in the warmth of my mind. Or brain. Head. Somewhere.

It's actually pretty cold and empty in here.

... Did I just insult myself?

Lucas had shifted himself so he could look at Dawn through squinted eyes. She was lying on her back, face scrunched up in cold. Or was that her annoyed-while-thinking face? They both looked the same. Her scarf was wrapped around her arms, the ends tied around her fingers. Her palms laid flat on her stomach. He could see her legs were crossed at the knee, her thighs shivering with cold. Good. It was her fault for not listening to him yesterday and not heeding his warnings earlier today.

You're such a jerk, said Guilt.

Fuck you, said Logic. Still, Lucas. Do the right thing.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his eyes. “Ugh. Fuck me,” he said out loud. Too loud.

This made Dawn sit up, her eyes wide, her hair a mess. “Excuse me?” she asked incredulously.

He quickly sat up. “Nothing,” he replied, agitated, his cheeks flushing. “Sleep with me. You're cold.”

“I'm not doing that to get warm!”

“I don't mean it like that!”

“Oh, and this is some clever way to get up my skirt?”

“No!” He fought the urge to slap his forehead. “I just don't want you to be cold and unable to sleep. It'll bug me, and I won't be able to sleep either. My sleeping bag is big enough for two. I won't touch you. Not purposely anyway.”

Dawn pulled down on her skirt, her legs clenched tightly together. “Well ... okay. As long as you don't do any funny stuff, okay,” she said tentatively, standing up slowly and leaving her bag on the opposite side of the campfire. She stood in front of Lucas, who had remained sitting, and looked down at him. “Do you have to watch me so creepily like that?” she complained after a few seconds of staring.

“I'm not doing anything,” he argued.

“You're staring at me funny!”

“I'm not doing anything,” he repeated.

“It's like you're just sitting there. 'Come hither, girl' is what you're saying by just sitting there.”

“I am just sitting here. I'm not sure where you're getting that message from. I'm not going to do anything.”

She bit her lip. “Well ... All right.” Dawn kicked off her boots and stood in her long, black socks. She used her leg to kick up the corner of the sleeping bag and rested her foot inside the covers. Lucas shifted as far as he could to the other side of his sleeping bag as Dawn sat down, her knees digging into the flannel fabric. She pulled off her hat and barrettes, her hair free to roam across her face. “Okay,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears and placing her hat above the pillow. “Ready?”

“Sure,” he muttered, falling backward, his head hitting the pillow.

Dawn stretched her legs out and pulled the cover over them before snuggling next to Lucas, her head next to his, her hair spilling onto the pillow. She zipped up the sleeping bag to keep the warmth in. “Let's make things a bit more awkward,” she said jokingly, turning toward him as Lucas lifted a hand out of the covers and pulled his beret over his eyes. “Wanna make out?”

“Go to bed.” He groaned again.

Dawn smiled. “Sweet dreams, Lucas.” She closed her eyes. Her breath tickled the side of his neck.

So stupid idea was stupid, he realized, pulling his hat back up. He cast his eyes up, watching the leaves rattle in the wind. He wasn't uncomfortable–the back of his mind kept reminding him that sharing a sleeping bag with Dawn was a necessity ... at least for her sake–but it was definitely weird. Lucas traveled alone for years, and having someone traveling with him, let alone in the same sleeping bag, was an idea, a place, he figured he'd never get to, at least not for a while. It was enough to keep him awake, this strange feeling. It felt a lot like hunger, actually.

He felt something nudge up against his left shoulder, and he turned his eyes toward the girl. Her knees were starting to curl up toward her stomach, and her arms were pressed tightly against her chest: fetal position. He knew the position well; he did it often when he was cold. Despite her heavy jacket and the body heat of two contained in a small space, she was still cold? Lord, people could not rough it these days.

“My nose is cold,” she murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed. She nuzzled her nose against Lucas's shirt sleeve, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

“You don't say,” he muttered back, his hand roaming outside the sleeping bag, feeling the ground for his pokédex. He hit something hard and plastic and picked up the device, scraping dirt into his fingernails. “Need my jacket?”

“No,” she replied in the same sleepy tone.

“Lying?” He flicked open the cover of his pokédex and opened the photo application. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well use the time wisely.

“I'm not,” she murmured. “I'm fine.”

Without looking to the side, Lucas's slightly numb fingers managed to find the zipper of his backpack. He opened it, digging around while trying not to move his left side in order to leave the girl undisturbed. He pulled out his jacket, throwing it on top of the girl.

“Thanks.” She sighed peacefully, starting to uncurl, her arms more relaxed. Her forehead continued to press against Lucas's shoulder.

“Mhm,” he said, using his hand to flip through the pictures. Pictures of the shores, pictures of the tops of olive trees, pictures of clearings, of sand, of puddles, of sand in puddles (or was it puddles in sand?). On occasion, he saw a pokémon – wingull, mostly, sometimes crawdaunt. The wide clearings were the most suspicious to him; the branches were crushed and foliage littered the ground, stamped on. Something big made those.

Then there was the picture of Dawn and him. He was bewildered, his eyes wide and looking at something to the side of the camera while Dawn was staring straight into it, beaming. The wind lifted her hair up and behind her shoulders, the strands twisting together. Both of their eyes were alight with the sun.

You better not delete this. Dawn's warning echoed in his mind.

Lucas gave the picture a final look–the strange feeling inflating in his stomach and forcing him to burp quietly–before clicking shut his pokédex and placing it next to his bag. He looked at the moon. The silhouette of something fast flew above them. A bird most likely. He saw it fly by again, this time slower and this time radiating an electric blue from what Lucas assumed to be its eyes. Foresight, he thought, in order to help it see through the dark and look for food. Perhaps it was attracted by the campfire.

Readjusting his jacket so it spread further across Dawn's body, Lucas closed his eyes, and fell, quite quickly, into a deep slumber.

 

[Air Dragon]

OK, this needs more reviews. Seriously...

SO, after saying I'd read it... after saving the first eight chapters for later perusal... it still took me close to a year to get around to reading this. Wow... I suck.

As writing a review for each chapter would seem a little over the top, I think I'll go about this the old fashioned way:

GRAMMAR

Well, here was your most lackluster area, although that was mostly due to slight typos here and there. Despite this, they did nothing to interrupt the flow of this piece of art.

Rank: A-

PLOT

Unique is an understatement. This is only so different from HLBMA, but you lost next to nothing in the telling of a totally new tale. The scene may be focused on the Eastern Sinnoh side, but you make it so refreshing to read. The universe of the fic just seems to expand slowly,and each end brings as many questions as it solves.

A+

DESCRIPTION

For the win. No, for the ULTIMATE WIN. Whether it's Lucas's feelings of being overused to the extent of depression, or Lane's wild dream scenes, Lull pulls this to a new level and perfects it beautifully. I could go on, but there's been enough over-the-top praise going on here.

A*

CAST

You take characterization really seriously, don't you? And even beyond that, you manage to keep everyone in a character that's not only unique, but so realistic one would expect to see a Darkrai in their closet every evening. You either watched a lot of TV growing up, or have a serious calling to performing arts: you pulled off each member of Lane's family, Julie and Francis (even when they didn't appear that often) epically.

Dawn and Lucas deserve another round of applause. I love how Lucas handles his business: cool as you please, rational and professionally. He may be lacking a bit in the acceptance of being wrong area, but that makes him all the more enjoyable to read. Dawn's being a polar opposite makes for quite the dynamic, both in their close moments (End of Chapter Thirteen = D'Awwwwwww!) and in their friction-filled ones.

You can't say their Pokemon are left out, and the way you bring each one out is awesome. Piplup the Tiny Pervert, Honchkrow the rebel, Grotle/Torterra the reliable sloth, and Riolu/Lucario the loyal all carve a niche for themselves whenever they appear. I have a lot to learn.

Cynthia and Rowan also show how the world seems to believe you can handle all the world's problems and hold your head high regardless of how little help they offered. I fully support Lucas in his approach to Cynthia. I only hope it doesn't spread too far and settle too thick. But there seems to be hope...

A*

LENGTH

Not the tomes that keep me motivated, but you never really relied on that. You've always favoured the "quality over quantity" motif, and boy, you make it an almost-universal truth.

A

OVERALL

Wow. I've said all that needs to be said in the post title. Seriously, this is top notch, Bree. Top. Notch.

;120;;120;;120;;120; and a half ;120;

Keep at it. I'm so gonna be following this more avidly! Although expect future review to be a lot shorter...

Happy new year! L@er!