Breezy
Eee.
- 454
- Posts
- 19
- Years
- Is there a Treeland? If so, there.
- Seen Mar 13, 2013
Hi! This chapter really needs warning, hopefully without me blurting out what's up ahead. The Lucas/Dawn scene in this chapter is … Let's just say I took full advantage of the PG-14 rating, specifically the sexual material/innuendo part. It's nothing super detail and doesn't go too far, but I know that stuff can make people uncomfortable, if not giggly with awkwardness. I promise it'll make sense once you get over that initial … bump (you'll know it when you see it, trust), especially if you hit puberty.
AND AFTER THAT, wear a helmet, ahoy! It's definitely the "violent imagery" part of the rating. Likewise, it's nothing too detailed but it can be upsetting. That or I'm really sensitive. Something. There is blood but nothing gory.
Oh, and it's more cuss happy than usual. Blame Eldritch. And Lucas.
Thanks for reading!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Fight or flee. When your life and the lives of others are on the line, your brain–or is it your gut?–gives you little time to process the situation before presenting these two options. In retrospect, the people who flee tell us they were able to weigh out the pros and cons before deciding to run. For example, some state that they are trained in first aid. Surely if they stayed, they could have gotten seriously injured, and what good will they be then? Others know when a fight is futile; I don't blame them for that. When you ask why the people who fight, well, fight, the most common answer is something like, "It felt like the right thing to do." People call them heroes. Or maybe they're morons. Lucky morons. Lucky, heroic morons.
I don't say this to insult others, the fleers or the fighters. What you do is up to you. I say it to sympathize with those who left me alone to fight when they knew I desperately needed help. I understand why now, but I'm still angry. I know I'll forgive them one day – I have to. It just might not be soon.
...
Behavior: Careful but quick to action when under threat. Often pries into dangerous or unwanted territory but with good intention. At times, forgetful. Smarter than she appears.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Fourteen
~ ~ ~
He wasn't expecting her to still be awake, let alone awake and still dressed in her daytime clothes, sitting on the couch. Her legs were crossed at the knee, her right foot shaking, her sandal making a "THWACK THWACK" noise when it hit the back of her foot. The television wasn't on, and the only light on was the hanging lamp above the kitchen table. She wasn't distracted by the mundane right now; her sole focus was on her husband.
Alyson leaned back into the leather couch, raising her eyebrows for a second. She poked her tongue against the side of her cheek, her mouth partially opened. "Where were you?" she asked, forehead wrinkling.
"The pub," he muttered, stamping his shoes on the welcome rug outside before entering the quiet house. He closed the door behind him and locked it. "I needed a drink. It's only thirty minutes past one."
"Where were you this afternoon?" she specified, uncrossing her legs, pressing her thighs together tightly. She wrapped her fingers around her thighs and squeezed.
"I took Lucas and Dawn to Fullmoon." He shook off his coat and hung it around his arm. "You know the darkrai myth? They think – actually, I think it's only the girl. But, uh, they think that darkrai may have something to do with Lane's condition. Cresselia is darkrai's counterpart, and it is rumored she lives on that island, so ..."
She gave him a look of disbelief.
"Well, c'mon," he muttered. " At least it's a trail. I'm wary about it, too, but at least it's something."
"It's not that," she replied after a sharp exhale.
Eldritch strode across the room to sit in the armchair next to the couch, sitting at an angle so he could look into Alyson's face. He placed his coat next to him. He didn't respond.
"You don't remember what we were suppose to do this afternoon?" she said after a few seconds of silence.
He opened his mouth, front teeth scraping against his bottom lip as he let out a deep sigh.
"My appointment," she answered for him. "Remember now?"
Eldritch closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair, the leather crinkling underneath his grasp. A knot built up in his throat, and he tried to swallow it down, resulting in him producing a phlegm that he choked back down with a few coughs. He let out another deep breath. "I know."
"You knew?"
He nodded, and she began to yell. What the heck, Dan? You knew this was important to me – it should be important to both of us, but nooooo, you were too busy trying to be young and an adventurer. Our kid is in the hospital, Dan, and no one knows why, and you just go off on some little adventure? I mean, for Arceus' sake, we're not twenty anymore. We have a family now. I ask you for one little thing, and you can't do it? I need your help sometimes; I need your support. I can't ...
Alyson's voice grew higher in frequency and speed, and the original point of the argument–him walking in late, him getting drunk instead of meeting her at the hospital, whatever the fuck it was–merged with her weekly bitchery that listed all of Eldritch's problems. It would be so easy–at least in her opinion–if he followed her solutions. Everything, essentially, was his fault. And she was always right. ALWAYS (apparently).
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry. I guess."
Alyson inhaled deeply, held it, and exhaled slowly. She looked down, a finger wrapping around a loose thread on her skirt. "That's it?" she murmured.
He leaned back in the armchair, hearing it groan under the pressure. "What else do you want me to say?"
Her eyes rolled to the side, staring at the empty kitchen rather than her husband. "I dunno," she said, staring at the fruit basket that stood as the center piece of the kitchen table. "I figure what's the point? One of us always has a problem with another, and the other one says they'll try to work on it, but we always end up here, you stumbling in like a drunk or me freaking out on Lane." She turned her head back toward her husband, not smiling but not angry either. "You don't get it, do you?"
Brown eyes flicked themselves up, staring at the ceiling fan that circulated air throughout the living room. "'I wish you were home more,'" he repeated. "'It's hard to be by myself. I miss you. I never see you anymore.'"
Her nose wrinkled. "You really don't get it. This isn't about you or me anymore."
"Yes, I've heard that before, too." He sighed. "'This is about our family–'"
"Stop. No." Alyson held an arm up and closed her eyes. "Look. You're a great father. You love your son, and the kid loves you so much. But do you even know him?" She crossed her arms. "I get it. You have to go out and work – you don't know when you're going to be called or how long you're going to be out at sea. I appreciate all you have to sacrifice in order to provide for us. It's just ... You being gone, sometimes without him knowing, is hard enough. He's not stupid – he knows we've been fighting. That's just making things worse."
Eldritch stared past Alyson's head and toward the hallway.
"I mean, he doesn't keep his door open because he's afraid of the dark, Eldritch. He's afraid that he might not hear you leaving. And when you are gone, he wants to know as soon as possible when you come through that front door. It kills me to see him like that."
"I wasn't expecting to be here." He couldn't look Aly in the eye. "Things happened too early, too fast. But I fucking try my best, Aly. I want to see him."
"But not ... me."
"Aly–"
"It's time one of us addressed the elephant in the room," she murmured, running her fingers up and down the leather cushion. "We're both ... different. Well, we were always different, but those differences used to work together so well. We both want vastly different things now. We're both in different places."
"Different," he mocked.
"Great time to be a wise-ass," she muttered.
"Sorry."
"I am, too." Alyson stood up and straightened out the wrinkles in her blouse, Eldritch's eyes following her. She put her hands on her hips. "You were always an adventurer, Eldritch, and nothing I can say or do will ever change that. It's why I love you and hate you at the same time." At this, she bit her lip and gazed at her husband uncomfortably. "I don't think this is working out. Do you?"
He paused, still sitting in the chair, his throat dry. He knew what she meant with this vague statement, but he didn't want to agree. He didn't want to beg, or fight, or yell, or cry, or ... anything. "I ..." His voice was hoarse and almost cracked as he saw tears begin to build in Alyson's eyes.
"I ... I feel like you're leaving us behind. I feel like we're holding you back." She wiped at her eyes, moistening her fingers. "That's how you feel ... isn't it?"
Tied down with wife and child ... Wasn't that the reason he became a sailor, to travel? To escape that? He knew that would bite him in the ass.
"He loves you so much, Dan. I just wish you were here more for him. And now that you're actually here for him, he's not even aware of it." She shook, head bowed down. Tears streamed down her cheeks, making strands of brown hair stick to her face.
"Aly." He stood up, but Alyson backed away, standing behind the couch. He wrung his hands together, legs shaking. "I love you. I really do."
"I know you do. And I love you, too." She looked up after sniffling loudly, her teary eyes strangely fierce and fiery. "But I really think we need to think about this. Like you said, things happened too fast, too early. I know this, and so do you. Life doesn't work out the way you hoped it would." She walked toward the hallway and stood at its entrance, gripping the corner where the two walls met.
"By the way," she added, not turning around. "I'm not pregnant." She released the wall from her grip before heading down the hallway.
He stood there, staring down the empty corridor.
"... Oh."
~ ~ ~
The sound of a twig snapping in the forest awoke Lucas. His eyelids flicked open quickly, eyes straight up toward the night sky. His vision was hazy around the borders; it felt like he had just dropped to the ground after spinning in circles for a minute straight. He turned his head–god, why did his fucking head feel so heavy?–and glimpsed at Dawn. She was still curled up next to him, her mouth partially open as she breathed in and out softly. Her forehead was pressed up against his upper arm, one of her hands squashed under her head and the other pressed against her chest. Her legs were curled into her, her calves pressing against Lucas' thigh.
He tried to remain still, part so he wouldn't wake Dawn but mostly because he was sure something–someone–was out there, watching, waiting, and ready (to kill him, to bake pie, to knit sweaters, fill in your own verb-noun combination. Life is a list of Mad Libs). Pressing his entwined hands against his stomach, he listened intently. There, the crackling of a dying fire. Here comes the whistling sea breeze, sweeping through the trees. Hoot, went the watchful noctowl. More focus, Lucas. There's the sea, rolling back and forth across the shore in a lulling motion. Push, and pull, and push, and pull ...
Sleep, dear child. Close those pretty blues, lovely child. Let Mother Nature and her tender breath cool your hot brow. Think of your past, those delicious memories. Think of your mother. Remember when the two of you used to bake cookies for your class when you were younger? Remember how you loved licking the spoon that stirred the batter? Ah, my child, I see it. I see you smuggling chocolate chips into your pockets only to realize they melted later that night. Let me taste them. Give me a little lick, a small bite. I need this. I need you. I am not asking for much, sweet boy. I have nothing against you, dear boy. I just want a taste.
It's not like I'm going to KILL you or anything.
Lucas inhaled sharply, his eyes opening again. Another snap – the sound of a twig breaking in half, followed by hurried footsteps. It was this, the sound of crunching foliage, the scattering of feet, that finally made Lucas pull his hands out of the warmth of his sleeping bag, grab his pokéball belt with his left hand, and roll over on top of Dawn to grab the bucket of water, throwing its contents onto the remnants of the fire. Smoke spiraled up lazily from the pit.
This awoke Dawn who snorted then let out a few coughs. "What are you doing?" she hissed once she composed herself as Lucas placed the bucket back on the ground. She tried to roll onto her back, but Lucas' weight had pinned her down, his chest pressing against her arm. She managed to push her shoulders back, causing Lucas to lift himself up, his hands on both sides of her head. He pulled himself up onto his knees, the top half of the sleeping bag pressing against his lower back.
"I heard something earlier and it woke me up, I think," he whispered. "Actually, I'm not sure. That could have been a dream. But I heard it again." He curled his fingers, scraping dirt back into his palms. "You didn't hear it?"
"No ..." she said slowly as she rolled onto her back, staring him straight in the face. She pulled her arms out of the sleeping bag and let them rest above her head, bent at the elbow with her palms skyward.
"I threw the water on the fire just in case it was attracting wild pokémon," he explained as Dawn raised her right hand and lifted the brim of his beret. She ran her fingers softly down his cheek before wrapping them gently around the back of his neck. It sent shivers up his spine, whether it was from the cool touch or Dawn touching him period. She didn't seem to notice his nervousness, lowering her eyes so that all Lucas could see was the top of her eyelids and her long eyelashes.
Dawn started to rub the back of Lucas' neck in small, circular motions. "You look so tense," she said, fingers gliding down toward his left shoulder and squeezing it. Her other hand trailed down the front of his shirt, feeling his chest through the thin material. "Stop worrying. Nothing's out there. Relax." Her gaze shifted upward to peer into his bewildered face.
He had to focus, but it was hard to do so. He was butter under Dawn's fingertips, melting under the warmth of her touch, the intensity of her fiery gaze. Reality was in his left hand, the leather pokéball belt he was slowly losing his grip on the further Dawn massaged his shoulders. It was awkward–tenfold more than usual–with him hanging above her, elbows straight, knees to the side of her thighs, and her kind of just … lying there, eyes, bright blue, alight from the moon. Her hair was sprawled out across the pillow, messy, strands twisted and tangled together. He had the urge to stroke her hair and brush it off of her face; and he almost did so, releasing his belt from his grip, only to realize what he was doing. He thought quickly, playing it off like he had to scratch his nose.
Focus, he reminded himself, placing his hand back on the ground. For Arceus' sake, focus. Something might be nearby, and he needed to listen, not be attracted by Dawn's squirming body underneath him, the slight pout of her full lips, the power of her bright blues – FOCUS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. If you don't, you might die, and dying isn't good. (And if you die, you can no longer play Mad Libs.)
A cold wind, carrying the scent of the salty ocean, swept across his back and entered the forest, rustling the foliage with a pleasant clattering noise. It was a relief, this cold wind, not because Lucas was feeling uncomfortably hot but because cold, as he learned, was Dawn's weakness. He felt her hands start to weaken, her massage in slower rolls. For a few seconds, he thought he was in the clear as she pulled her hands away. She's retreating, was his thought, retreating into the warmth of the sleeping bag. Yes. He was going to win.
... Wait, why is that a good thing again? Dawn is ... decent looking, no? Plus she was comforting, admittedly, and he liked massages. (The blunt translation: You idiot, there's a hot chick underneath you that seemingly wants to do something. Are you five shades of stupid?)
Another noise sounded, this time from within the campsite. Something was unzipping – slowly, too, where it creaked and ticked. There, again: the sound of rustling, the movement of legs. There was another quick puff of wind, this time man-made. Dawn had thrown open the cover of the sleeping bag. His back was exposed to the wilderness, and it left him feeling – holyshitholyshitholyshit. Her leeeegs. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him down roughly. His hips crashed into hers and hers immediately lurched up.
"Fuck ..." he breathed out.
She brought his face close by lacing her hands behind his head, crossing her legs at the knee. "Hi," she said sweetly, her breath hot on his clammy skin, before kissing him. It was gentle at first, her bottom lip snug between his, but he wanted more, and apparently so did she, so it got hotter and heavier. He licked her lips, urging, begging her to part those sweet lips, and she complied, her tongue meeting his and battling for dominance. Her legs wrapped around him tighter – god, she was so fucking hot right now, and he could tell she was just relishing in the attention he was giving her. He rolled them over in a wild tangle of limbs and hair so that she was on top of him. His arms wrapped around her lower back. She pulled away and looked down at him, hair draping around the sides of her face.
"Say it," she said, pulling off his hat to run her hands through his hair soothingly. She pressed her forehead against his, their lips brushing together. He felt his heart leap when she stared into him.
"No," he replied, squirming, legs shaking.
"Say it," she demanded again, gripping his hair tighter, which made him yelp. She loosened her grip a bit as she kissed him on the lips, then on the cheek, before sliding down to kiss him on the side of his neck. She stayed there, her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck, her forehead pressed against the side of his face. She flicked her tongue softly against the skin, once, twice, then there was a particularly sharp nibble–
"Daaa ..." he managed to choke out.
She lifted her head. "Say it," she ordered, an eyebrow raised. "All of it."
"No," he argued. "I'm not ... I'm not weak." He glared at the night sky, trying to avoid her gaze. "I'm not a little kid. You gotta do better than that."
She continued to lick and nibble at his neck softly, his breath getting caught in his throat before releasing itself in a low grumble. "Say it," she whispered into his ear seductively before gently biting his earlobe.
It took all of his willpower to stay calm, his body shaking. "No," he breathed out heavily.
She brought her head up and glowered. Her eyes were blinding and blue.
You stubborn brat. SAY IT.
"I told you." He grinned at something. Why he was feeling so goddamn smug all of a sudden, he didn't know. "Make me."
The girl smirked back. "I'll make you freaking scream it." She kissed him hard again, her legs wrapping around one of his, and grinding into his thigh, and he let out another audible groan through the kiss. Her tongue pushed its way through his lips and overtook him. Her hands released their grip from his hair and trailed down his chest, sending an icy hot sensation running through his veins and concentrating in a particular area below his waist. More unzipping sounded. She pulled away from the kiss, and he stared at her pleadingly as she brought her hand up, licked her fingertips, and brushed them against his lips before moving her hand back down, pushing back layers of denim, then cotton, then–
Another urgent cuss as her hot touch met something that was equally hot, his body lurching forward, and from his mouth he uttered:
"Daaarkrai."
"What?" asked Barry as he swallowed his mouthful of apple. Juice dribbled down the sides of his mouth. He wiped at it with the back of his hand and proceeded to wipe his now wet hand against the front of his pants. Barry threw the remaining apple core into a nearby metal garbage can. He swung his legs forward, gripping the fence tightly in his hands, staring at his worn-down sneakers.
"Huh?" Lucas replied, scratching the side of his nose. "I didn't say anything."
"I swear you did."
"I didn't say anything," he repeated.
"Right. Well, let's get on it then." Barry hopped off the fence, feet sinking into the snow. He flung one end of his scarf around his shoulder. "Why did we stop here again?"
Was it a little pathetic to say that he missed Barry? The kid was impatient and got distracted easily, but that's the reasons why the two of them worked so well together. They balanced each other out. Lucas was calm and quiet; Barry was eccentric and loud. Even with these differences, Barry was the only kid that really got him. They had been best friends since they were in grade school, for crying out loud. They started their journey on the same day, pretty much. They were both trainers, bound together by that simple fact, but it was more than that. Barry was pretty much his brother. (He couldn't figure out who was the older one. Lucas appeared to be the more mature one, and he was born a few months before Barry, but Barry was the one that gave Lucas advice, whether intentionally or not.)
He used this to his advantage, Barry's ability to get distracted by nearly anything, in order to stop time for a little bit. Literally, all he said was, "Holy crap, it's snowing!" and it dived into some snow war. Later, they got hungry and decided to eat apples Lucas had produced from his bag. Admittedly, it probably wasn't the best time to stop and get distracted – shit was going at the lake, and Rowan demanded them to get there ASAP.
Life had been giving Lucas the short end of the stick lately. Actually, it was more of a give-and-take situation. For everything good that happened in his life–new gym badge, new pokémon, what have you–something bad happened. He tried to avoid it, sure, but someone would drag him back down. Hell, he was only dropping by Canalave for a gym battle – he wasn't expecting to run into Rowan and that one girl that hung around him all the time. And he definitely wasn't expecting there to be a big explosion that set off a new series of events.
But here they were, somewhere cold. Lucas had to constantly move his fingers to make sure they didn't freeze over. He looked up; it was snowing lightly, adding to the already thick blanket on the ground. A flake landed on his nose, and he stared at it, going cross-eyed.
"Um, hello?" Barry waved a hand impatiently in front of Lucas's face, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Let's gooo already!" He ran ahead, leaving footprints in the snow, leaving Lucas far behind. He continued to watch Barry as he ran through a grove of pine tree. Lucas shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walked after him, following the trail of footprints.
A burst of flames came from the grove, and Barry and his infernape were sent skidding back, blasting up snow. Barry hit the fence posts hard, though Lucas could still see him moving, one of his hands rubbing the back of his head. The top of Infernape's head melted the snow surrounding them. The two of them stuck out against the white snow with Barry's white-and-orange striped shirt and Infernape's flames.
"Barry!" Lucas cried. "Are you okay?" He started to run over, one hand stretched out, but something locked around his legs and pulled him down. He fell onto his stomach, his arms spread out to his sides, and he felt them get locked down as well. He looked. Ropes had sprung from the ground and tied him down.
Where do you think you are going, child? You think you are in control here?
Lucas struggled against the bindings, but it was to no avail. All he could move was his head. "Barry!" he called out again before gritting his teeth. "I'm still here, Barry!"
He cannot hear you.
Barry let out a loud groan, running a hand through his blond locks, shaking out snow. He slowly got up, his pokémon following suit, and glared into the snowy thickets where a curvy woman with purple hair appeared.
"How silly," she said, heading toward the shaking Barry, her hips swinging as she walked. A skunktank followed after her, growling, her tail partially hiding her eyes. "I have no idea why you're here, child, but I sure as hell will make you regret it! Skunktank!" She snapped her fingers, and the pokémon jumped ahead of her. "Flamethrower!"
Barry, despite his efforts, had fallen back into the snow, kneeling with one hand pressed against his chest. With one eye twitching, he managed to pant out a command: "Dodge and Blaze Kick!"
The skunktank, while running and kicking up snow in her wake, opened her mouth. A jet of bright orange flames streamlined toward Infernape, but Barry's pokémon quickly jumped into the air, dodging the fire. His right foot was ablaze in flames as he descended toward the ground and his opponent. Skunktank had stopped in her tracks and looked up to watch the infernape fall.
"Poison Jab!" was her trainer's command. Skunktank raised herself onto her hind legs, her two forelegs glowing in purple energy.
The two attacks collided, and although the kick was enough to scorch the skunktank's fur, the power behind her Poison Jab was enough to throw Infernape off and toward the side in a heavy heap. The pokémon rolled over a few times, snow caking around him, before stopping, unmoving, the flames on his head retreating into his body.
"Infernape!" Barry managed to choke out before coughing up blood and phlegm, spitting it onto the ground. The blood sunk into the snow, but the red was still quite visible. Barry had dropped onto all fours, his head bowed down.
He had to try again, still struggling against his bounds. "Barry! She's coming!" Lucas shouted, his throat vibrating. His hands were frostbitten; it felt like thousands of tiny needles were poking at his fingers, but he didn't care, fighting and squirming and grabbing the snow in his hands. "Let me go!"
You brought this on yourself. No one asked you to come here.
The woman had returned her skunktank and walked toward Barry, not before giving his fallen infernape a kick to his stomach. This made both Barry and Lucas yell loudly. She seemed to get a thrill from their reaction, so she kicked the pokémon again.
"Stop it!" Lucas shouted.
You do not seem to get it, do you?
"Barry!" he cried out again. The woman was closer, inches away from his fallen friend.
Everyone needs to survive. This is what I do to survive. It is how I was designed. People think I bear ill will. No. I am simply trying to live. Not everything is pretty. Sometimes you have to do ugly things in order to survive. Everything is layered. Things are not simply bad or good.
I thought you of all people would understand that.
"No ..." Lucas felt tears well up in his eyes as the woman pulled a handgun from behind her back. The white sky made the metal gun glint. It was almost blinding to look at.
Perhaps I was wrong.
She squeezed the trigger, and he squeezed his eyes shut. There was a loud bang, and he heard a flocks of starly fly from the pine trees, chirping in fear.
It all started with starly. I know this well.
Lucas refused to open his eyes even though tears were squeezing their way past his eyelids and dropping into the snow.
I can take this away. All you have to do is say it.
He opened his eyes. Through his tears saw the dead form of his friend and the shades of red deepening the white snow. From his mouth he uttered:
"Darkrai."
"Hi!" said Lane with a smile.
"Lane?" Lucas asked, confusion in his eyes.
"Detective Lane," Lane corrected, lowering the brim of his tan hat over his eyes. He smirked as he strode down the supermarket aisle, his long trench coat trailing behind him. Around his shoulders was a black cape tattered at the end. "We're detectives!" he shouted, throwing both of his arms in the air as he walked. "We're doing detective stuff! Remember? WE'RE DETECTIVES!"
Lucas jogged to catch up with him, pushing up the sleeves of his own trench coat that was two sizes too big for some reason. "Why did you have to yell it?" he asked.
"WHY NOT!" Lane spun in circles, his cape swirling around him, and let out a loud laugh. His hand almost knocked over a bottle of dishwasher soap, so he quickly stopped and grabbed the bottle before it fell to the floor. "You remember the mission?"
"Someone's stealing the floor cleanser in aisle nine," Lucas replied, rubbing his chin. He cocked his own hat over his eyes and grinned. "But why?"
The two of them exited aisle eight, which was the dishwasher aisle apparently, and into the open space, standing next to a bunch of purple candles in boxes. The fluorescent lighting was dim; some bulbs were complete blacked out or cracked. Still, it gave enough light for Lucas to examine the dusty old market: the floors were stained with something red and sticky, and the shelves were close to bare (except for the heavily stocked dishwasher aisle, where there was so many brands of dishwasher soap that it took up two entire aisles). Lane and Lucas stepped forward and hid behind a few boxes of cereal as they peered down aisle nine. The only person down the aisle was an elderly woman standing near an empty cart. She was short, wearing tattered brown clothing. A hood covered her head, though straggly strands of brown hair poked out, like twigs.
"I think she's one of them," Lane whispered. The elderly woman, with her wrinkly hands, grabbed a large bottle of Mr. Mime Floor Cleanser™, and placed it in her cart. She grabbed another bottle of Mr. Mime Floor Cleanser™ and stacked it on top. "C'mon!"
Lucas nodded. "Excuse me, miss," he said as he took wide strides to walk down the aisle. Lane had to half run, half skip to keep up with him. The elderly woman looked up, her arms wrapped around a big bottle of Mr. Mime Floor Cleanser™. "Do you mind if I take that bottle? I need one, and you seem to have plenty." He made a grab for the bottle, but the woman pulled away. She raised her hood a little, her pink eyes glaring at the two detectives.
"I know who you two are," she said in a creaky voice, hands laced together in front of the bottle of the Mr. Mime Floor Cleanser™. Lucas noticed her nails, a pattern of pink, blue, and yellow. "And you both need to get out of here before it gets too late. Go home."
"Give me the bottle," he demanded. "Give me the bottle of Mr. Mime Floor Cleanser ... er, TM." He made another swipe for it, but the old lady pulled away. She threw the bottle in the cart, turned around, and proceeded to bonk Lucas on the head with a closed fist.
"Stupid child. Don't say I didn't warn you," she murmured as she wheeled the cart in the opposite direction. She turned the corner, leaving behind a dazed Lucas and a giggling Lane.
"She got you good," Lane said with a wide grin.
"I think she's using the bottles to smuggle out–"
"Shh!" Lane warned, pointing up to a purple cup on the upper shelf. "I think we're being listened on."
Lane was too short to reach the shelf where the cup was, so Lucas grabbed it, kneeling over a bit so Lane could hear, too. They both held their ears to the cup.
"There's two of them in the aisle this time," they heard the elderly woman say. "The bigger, uglier one tried to take one of my bottles."
Lane stifled his laughter as Lucas rolled his eyes to the side. He placed the cup back on the shelf.
"Come on. She couldn't have gotten far," Lane said, brushing past Lucas. "We can catch up!"
I see you have met this child before. When you dream, you sometimes dream of people you have not met but only seen. He is interesting. His imagination is vivid and light. He is not tainted. He has not the experiences that you, dear boy, have had. I tried to sustain my need off of his darker energy–his fears, his worries–but he has none. What he dreads is nothing unusual for someone of his age. But my search continues; I will find something that will feed me.
"Lucas!" Lane was at the end of the aisle, waving at him. "This way!"
You are trying to save him. Is that correct?
Lane had turned the corner by the time Lucas had taken off behind him, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. His trench coat swished behind him.
I am sorry.
Lucas turned the corner and felt his breath get caught in his throat.
I cannot allow that to happen.
"Cyrus," he whispered, taking a few steps back as the older man advanced forward. Instinctively, Lucas reached for his belt, his hands roaming his side for his pokéballs. He couldn't find any. Alarmed, the boy took a few more steps backward before turning around fully and running for it. He turned his head. The Galactic leader, with his menacing stare, his furrowed brow, his mouth in a frown, ran – no, glided behind him.
He is MINE.
The walls of the supermarket somehow disappeared, and he was running up a steep incline, pebbles grinding beneath his feet before rolling down the hill. He almost tripped, his hand scraping the ground, but he quickly picked himself up, gasping for air. The land began to level out; the dirt path had turned itself into cobblestone. Tall, stone pillars surrounded him, though they weren't holding anything up. His foot kicked a rock, letting it skip across the cobblestone until it collided with a pillar.
The end: he had reached a cliff. Lucas turned around and backed into a pillar, pressing against it as if he would somehow sink into it. The wind had picked up, blowing wildly and loosening Lucas's scarf from around his neck. It twisted and turned in the air until it got stuck around another stone column. Cyrus had stopped gliding and was walking toward him slowly, hands behind his back. His eyes were shining in the daylight, a bright, icy blue.
"What do you want? You took everything from me already!" Lucas yelled above the whistling wind, gripping onto the pillar. "I'm as messed up as you!"
Cyrus said nothing, continuing to walk toward him. From behind his back he pulled out a red chain that glinted and glared in the sun; it was almost blinding to look at. When he approached Lucas, he swung the chain in front of his eyes.
Is this him?
Cyrus walked behind the pillar and grabbed Lucas's hands. Lucas heard something rattle and snap. He tried to pull his arms away but found that he couldn't. Cyrus had chained him to the pillar using the red chain he had sought to make for so long. Lucas turned his head; his pokémon were there, clinging onto his heavy torterra. Honchkrow was flapping his wings against the wind as his claws dug into the tree that sat on top of the beast's back. Magmortar had slammed his feet into the ground in order to keep himself from falling over in the heavy wind, though one of his claw cannons was pressed against Torterra's side. The flames on his shoulders and head danced wildly. And there was sweet baby Riolu grabbing onto Torterra's right foreleg, his eyes clenched shut. He was the smallest, of course, and the most apt to be blown away. Cyrus had noticed them.
This is he who causes you the most distress to you, correct?
"Get out of here!" Lucas's voice was hoarse; he had to swallow a few times to build up saliva.
Honchkrow was the first to leave, spreading his wings and allowing the wind to take hold of him. Magmortor was next. His claws transformed into cannons, and he blew a bright ball of orange energy into the ground, creating a hole and jumping into it. Torterra, the lazy daydreamer, refused to move, beady eyes staring into him. Riolu was still gripped tightly around his leg.
"Get out of here, Torterra!"
The torterra glared back.
"Forget me! Leave! That's an order!"
The torterra blinked rapidly a few times and lifted a heavy foot, making Riolu squeak and let go. The heavy beast slowly turned around and walked away, fading away into the dust.
I see you have nightmares about him.
Riolu fell flat on his rump, red eyes blinking back tears. He said his name a few times before wiping at his cheeks and scrambling onto his feet, dirtying his black paws. His ears peeled back. Riolu noticed Lucas's scarf tied around the pillar. He smiled, dashing over to it and pulling it free, wrapping it around his arms.
"Riolu," he begged, pulling at the chain, but the chain held fast. "Forget me. Leave."
But I am not sure that he is what you fear the most.
Riolu only grinned and held the scarf out. He began to totter toward him, walking on the balls of his feet. He stood at Lucas's shoes and held his arms out, trying to give back the article of clothing Lucas had worn throughout his journey.
"I ..." Lucas pulled at the chain again, still unable to free himself. Since Lucas didn't reach out toward him, Riolu wrapped the scarf around Lucas's right ankle and curled himself on top of his shoes, closing his eyes and sighing peacefully despite the situation. "Thank you, Riolu."
Cyrus is what made you think about it, yes, but he is not the cause of it. I know what you are afraid of. You try so hard to hide it. That only makes it easier for me to find.
Something sharp bit at Lucas's ankle and stayed there, making him yelp. He looked down, and Riolu wasn't there; instead there was something gray and shapeless. The being turned his eyes–blue, wide, and cold–toward him and grinned. Blood oozed out between the castform's teeth, and Lucas felt himself being drained of energy. His back slowly slid down the pillar, and his vision was starting to get misty. The gray being released himself from Lucas's leg as the boy's bottom reached the ground. Lucas breathed heavily, taking in the heavy dust that coated the insides of his mouth.
You are afraid of losing them, the only beings in this world that stayed by your side no matter what. You are afraid of what you have been trying to seek out ever since you became champion.
You think you want to be alone.
The castform had transformed itself back into Riolu's shape, though his mouth was still bloody. He smirked.
"You're not scared, are you?" the riolu-castform being asked tauntingly.
No, child. That is not correct at all.
Lucas shook his head, panting. The blood from the being's bite had pooled around his leg and was slowly creeping toward him. It took most of his energy to raise his head and look toward the cloudy sky. The clouds were moving fast, like time was passing at a high speed.
You are AFRAID of being alone.
"I'm not scared," Lucas said slowly. He coughed a few times; he saw specks of blood fly out with his saliva. He took in a few deep inhales of dusty air and exhaled once, loudly. Through his blurry vision, he saw Cyrus stand before him. He knelt to the ground so he could see eye-to-eye with the champion.
"I'm not fucking scared of you," he repeated firmly. "YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!"
You are going to regret that, you stupid child!
Cyrus' body contorted, twisted, and his mouth opened and peeled back until fire burst forth and a demon released itself, white wisps of smoke surrounding his shapeless body. It opened its mouth, revealing its jagged, sharp teeth before zooming in toward the restrained trainer.
~ ~ ~
"Dream Eater!" she cried. "Again!"
Dawn's clefable fluttered her wings and raised both of her arms. Her eyes glowed a bright gold, and she brought her hands up. The energy traveled from her eyes to her hands and shot out, surrounding Lucas's head. It seemed to be working for a minute; the boy's distraught face started to relax and his limbs, pinned down by Dawn's hands and legs, stopped struggling against her hold. But then a black energy snapped back, crackling in the air and shooting back at the clefable, knocking her off her feet. Once more, the boy started to shake and murmur.
"Darkrai ..." he murmured through dry lips. "Darkraiii ... watching."
"Myth! Are you okay?" Dawn looked up worriedly from Lucas's shaking state to her pink pokémon. The clefable hopped back onto her feet and nodded firmly. She exhaled deeply, blowing up the curl on her forehead.
"Piiiip!" Dawn's piplup chirped frantically as he tried his best to restrain Lucas's flailing feet.
Dawn turned her head. "Oh, Pip. Myth, help him, please."
The clefable waddled over toward the penguin and pinned down Lucas's left foot with her hands as Pip used all of his weight to pin down the other foot. Dawn turned her attention back toward the boy beneath her, his arms pinned under her hands. His face went through a series of emotions, more than she had ever seen the boy expressed ever. Anger, happiness, sadness, confusion ...
"Lucas, wake up," she begged, collapsing on top of him and sobbing into his shoulder. "Please ... Please just wake up ..."
Something above her cried out, but she couldn't make heads-or-tails of what it was nor did she really care at the moment to try and distinguish it. Still, Dawn had pulled herself together and raised her head, staring into the night past the trees. There was another battle cry (this time, she could make out a flourished "Liaaa!" at the end), and she saw something overhead.
It was, dare she say, beautiful ... whatever it was, with the crescent moon as its backdrop. At first, she thought it was mesprit because of the pink, blue, and yellow color scheme, but the thing was too big to be mesprit, and this was one weird place for mesprit to be anyway. No, this thing was almost swan-like with long, slender features that curved together to form wings and a long neck connected to a pointed head. She didn't know; she couldn't really tell from down there. It seemed to be glowing, but Dawn figured that was a trick of the moon's eerie lighting. Something pink glinted. She figured that was the being's eyes. They were staring straight at her before resting on Lucas's body.
And like that, it took off, not before exclaiming another, "Liaaa!" Feathers. Lots of long feathers spiraled down toward Dawn, their bright colors visible in the moonlight. For a moment, everything was still except for these dancing feathers as they descended toward the campsite. Dawn felt her breath get caught in her throat as she watched them fall ever-so-gracefully, some getting caught in the tops of trees and some flying out toward the sea. Some of them managed to settle into their cozy campsite; a couple even fell on top of the sleeping bag. Dawn reached out and caught one with her hand. She observed it, holding it by the shaft. These were the same types of feathers she had collected earlier.
"Cresselia?" she questioned.
Her query went unanswered; no more battle cries echoed themselves through the trees, and no more feathers spun dizzily toward her. She sat up, looking toward Lucas, one hand still clutching the feather. Lucas groaned, and his eyes flickered open lazily.
Now, if this was one of Dawn's romantic fantasies, Lucas would have said something much more romantic. Something along the lines of, "Dawn, my love! Why are there tears in your eyes? Don't cry for me!" And he would sit up, wrap his arms around her and press his forehead lovingly against hers. But no. What was the first thing he uttered?
"Why are you sitting on me?"
She groaned. Lucas lifted his head but flinched and settled back down on the pillow. Dawn quickly scrambled off of him as Myth and Pip jumped off his legs and ran toward his head. The boy looked up toward the sky through half-opened eyes. Dawn could tell he was ready to crash again. She pulled the cover of the sleeping bag over the tired boy's body and sat next to him, legs curled underneath her. She ran a hand soothingly through his hair.
"Sleep," she whispered. The boy obeyed, closing his eyes. "I'm here. I'll take care of you. I promise."
Last edited: