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04 September 2013 @ 09:06 am
Lavender Stains in the Doll Court [2] [Steven/May] [Riley/Dawn]  
Title: Lavender Stains in the Doll Court [2]
Pairing: Steven/May, Riley/Dawn
Fandom: Pokemon Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald and Pokemon Diamond/Pearl/Platinum
Genre: Satire, Parody, Angst, Romance(ish)
Rating: PG-13 to R
Summary: She is his dirty little secret.

Chapter 1

It is indeed in many ways more comfortable to belong to that section of society whose action are not publicly canvassed and discussed.

Genji Monogatari

[2]

Dawn greets him with a flourish of lanky limbs and maddening hugs. As he wraps his arms around her thin waist, he can’t help but marvel at how beautiful and ingenuous she is. She smells of lavender and wisteria (inhaling deep, he also detects the elusive entrapment of white chocolate bonbons).

In purple-hearted socks, she stands barely as tall as his chest. Gazing up, she drowns him in tides of bright, blinding smiles. Agilely, Riley retreats so not to be burned in this incandescent sea. Releasing her, he wipes the smidge of flour that mars her cheek.

“Cooking?” he asks.

She shakes her head coyly, tugging at him to follow. “I was making glue.”

“Glue,” he repeats flatly.

Affronted, she spins around (catching him off-guard) to deliver her sermon. “Yes, Riley. Glue. I’ve been experimenting to find the finest, sturdiest glue.”

“And how did this adventure arise?”

“Because you didn’t have any glue, Riley,” she states plainly. “It’s a household necessity, like teakettles and ironing boards.”

He chuckles, is amazed by her dauntless creativity and intrepid whims. Obediently, he trails after her to assess her perfect formula for glue. She is right: it’s a household necessity.   

Something to bind together disparate parts—much like them.

--

Roughly, he seizes strands of her moonlit hair. His fingers are long and skinny (almost emaciated) and obscured by night, they resemble spider-legs. She attempts to escape, but her effort proves futile (he is far too masterful at predicting her moves).

She looks at him with large, bewildered eyes as his hand skims down her back. Immediately, she remembers her disadvantage. It’s not fair that he could read her—penetrate with consummate clarity—and she is left bereft in the shadows. 

Dawn.

Cringing and squirming, she pulls away. But his grip is firm, tenacious, and he is strong. And she will lose, has resigned to that. With a sigh, she lets him drag her down. Deep into the muddied waters (the darkened sheets).

--

Iron Island is formidable and haunting and embraces them with sea-swept harrows accrued over centuries. As the boat prepares for docking, Dawn shivers against the brackish air. It’s colder here, more desolate and beautiful than the visions of her memories.

She shrugs into her coat. Riley beams at her, holding tight onto his fedora as the winds thrash and assault its fine silken edges. And cheerfully, she returns the smile, entwining an arm with his. Pained, his face nearly looks: furrowed brows and a frown ghosting over.

“It’s been a while,” he says. “I forgot how peaceful it can be here. I stopped coming regularly after my father died.”

“When was the last time you were back?”

Pausing, Riley turns to face her. “Since I met you.”

Austere and deadpan like the final testimony of a eulogy.

Behind them erupts the low bellowing of a foghorn. A soft mist is rising, thick and impervious and closing in. Silently, she follows him down the narrow path, past the familiar, chipped rocks and gnarled pines. She starts counting the number of steps to reach the house waiting at the end.

--

He hates it here.

Hates that there is nothing left for him (but a goddamn legacy).

Hates that he’s bound to this place, shackled by ties so bloody and visceral (can never break free).

He especially hates that she loves it here. With her tousled hair and buoyant grins, Dawn runs fast, ecstatic, frenzied. She skips over mountains and plunges unrestrained into waves. She can’t thank him enough for bringing her here. And so, dejected, Riley grants her control over the island.

While she showers him with gifts of wildflowers and oddly shaped Moon Stones, he can scarcely recall why he came here. And then the phone rings (Steven Stone) and the reason crashes down all of a sudden and hard.

“Dawn, I apologize for not mentioning this earlier. A friend of mine will be joining us for dinner. Is that okay?”

--

It is eerie how similar they are. They brush their glasses with the same stifled grace and speak in the same soothing, distant tone. Even their suites unroll from identical cloth, sharply cut and unburdened by wrinkles and lint and the hazards of travelling.

The man introduced himself as Steven Stone. Amazed, Dawn struggles to believe that this is—was—the Champion of Hoenn.

Hoenn.

The name is so foreign and exotic on her tongue, invoking sweet, ripe fruits and white, empty beaches. The weather is hotter there than in Sinnoh. A cluster of islands atop foamy seas (not like the steely waters from which she sailed).

“I’m terribly sorry for imposing. I should’ve called earlier, but there was difficulty locating a stable signal up on Mt. Coronet.”

“Not at all. So what brings you to Iron Island?”

“I was hoping to see some of the caves. I’m a collector of rare rocks. The last time I was here, your father was kind enough to show me some of the hidden caverns.”

“Ah, of course. How could I forget? Right, in any case, I’d be happy to show you around. However—I must say your timing is less than impeccable this time—I’m here on business and my schedule is rather tight.”

“Perhaps Dawn could act as my guide. If that’s all right with you.”

Surprised, Dawn glances from one man to the other. Whereas Steven’s mouth is quirked into a slight, wry smile, Riley looks grim. Foreboding.

“I—I’d be glad to, Mr. Stone. But I’ve only been here once myself. I don’t know I’ll be of much help,” she answers hesitantly.

“Please, call me Steven. And why don’t we find out together?”

His small grin explodes into a Cheshire cat’s. Across the table, Riley regards him with narrow, keen eyes (daring him to proceed).

Finally (both holding in breath) Dawn relents. “I suppose that’d be fine. Okay, I’d like that.”

“Great. Thank you, Dawn. And thank you, Riley, for your hospitality.”

Gritting his teeth, Riley nods.

Dinner continues.