TEEN: Obsession

[Zephy]

*jaw drops*

I..it's a Jirarudan fic. An exceptionally well written one. It has d...depth and grace. What twisted parallel universe am I in? Don't pinch me. This is too cool.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Holy crap, today must be an awesome day for Jiri fans. Well you know, tenth anniversary and we get a website and...yeah.

Well, as you can see, there's a lot of history here. I'm so happy that people are reading it! And that means I'll probably have to work on chapter 20 sometime soon.

 

[Legacy]

Wow I didn't even know I was a Jirarudan fan until I read this XD

I still remember him from the movie, and this is a very good look into his life. I especially love your attention to detail and way with words to make the story seem real.

Hard to explain, but here's an example of what I'm talking about:

My earliest memory is a simple enough one. I was looking through my mother's heirloom chest with her, and came across a small envelope. With her permission, I opened it.

The contents of that envelope changed my life forever.

Inside was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Even in the dim light of the attic, it shone with its full magnificence and splendor.

Entranced, I turned my eyes towards my mother, who smiled. "That's the Ancient Mew card, dear. You can have it if you want. But be careful with it, it's very valuable."

If it was important enough to merit a warning, I knew it had to be very special. From that moment on, it was, and still remains, my most treasured possession.


Just little things like: "with her permission, I opened it" and "if it was important enough to merit a warning..." really help make the story complex and more enjoyable to read.

I have only the read the first few chapters, but it's very very good so far. I'm sorry I've been missing it for so long.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Aww shucks! Thank you!

Oh man...oh man...oh man...this is so freaking awesome.

 

[Android raptor]

It's almost 2AM so I can't make a detailed reply at the moment but... holy shit. This has got to be the best fanmade character backstory I've ever read, and one of the best fics I've read period. Far too many fanfic backstories (especially for villains) fall into the depths of OOC, melodrama, ridiculous cliche, and the always-dreaded woob, but this... yeah, it's dark and angsty, but it's definitely not your average thing about Heero or Sephiroth or whoever being beaten as a child and bawwwing while cutting his wrists to Linkin Park or some shit. It's far more mature, refined, and though fanmade completely possible with what we were given in the film (though admittedly that's not much).

Admittedly I haven't read anywhere near as much fanfiction as some people, though when you come from a fandom as small and neglected as mine your options are pretty limited. Plus I don't read books like I should, so I dunno. Maybe I just haven't read enough, but reading this feels like reading a serious, published novel. Not a fanwritten story about a franchise typically thought of as silly and kiddie by most people.

I feel like I need to finally start taking steps to write my backstory for Ghinius Sakhalin. Because he's in need of some explanation for how he ended up as he did just as much as Jiri, and now I see how I can not make it suck ass.

Though I think Asaph needs to have a talk with this man:

That is all.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Awww shucks!

(I have no idea who the man in the picture is, btw)

 

[Aladar]

I read your fic recently Blackjack and although the chaps are short, I really liked it. And yes, one can easily noticed it's written by a mature writer... it's creepy and angsty... and the creepyness is so hidden in context it creeps me even more...

Me predicts a love thingy between Lawrence and this girl....

And now, let's get some things out of my system:

ASAPH IS A CRAZY CREEP! His relationship with Lawrence aside but the way he treats Pokemon... Not for training? Not for battling? He rejects the opinion of Champions, of trainers and coordinators! Pokemon should be punched? WTF... Paul's worse capable treatment of a Pokemon is infinity times more gentle than this... Not for battling? I mean, this Asaph guy must be sick!

Grab the pitchforks, flamethrowers, swords, axes whatever you have! Let's hang him high... let's cut him time and time again and than let's heal him so we could cut him some more...

Phew... Me bettah now

*cracks knuckles* And what was that about LP again?

 

[Android raptor]

Awww shucks!

(I have no idea who the man in the picture is, btw)

Chris Hansen. Investigative reporter most famous for being the host of Dateline NBC's "To Catch a Predator" mini series thing. And also his status as a bit of an internet meme, because he's pretty much the anti-thesis of Pedobear.

Though in this case, maybe it would be Shotacat *hides*

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Aaah, I see.

*cracks knuckles* And what was that about LP again?

Hmm? LP?


Alls I can say is this--Asaph isn't going to do anything illegal...for that world.

 

[Aladar]

I was reffering to Android Raptor's comment about Linkin Park (LP)...

And no jail for Asaph...oh, shucks! Maybe a death scene?

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Only two characters die in the fic. One of them, Gloria, died in the first chapter. Another is a very minor character (although it'll have a fair sized impact. No it's not Helen).

 

[jlc]

Wow! As a mom I must say your 'obsession' message was beautifully written and a delight to read. Thanks, jlc

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I actually finished this at about 15 minutes to midnight on New Years Eve, but I was at a con and my friend's laptop was being super slow because it was on hotel wifi and for some reason Bulba wouldn't load at all. But finally! Over a year later, Obsession 20! This is, I tell you now, probably the longest chapter so far, and it's mostly character building. There's seeds of a few future plots but at least one of those I bet you won't pick up on until the next chapter. After 21, the pace will pick up.





The year ended and the year began, and soon after it was time for the Tonio exhibit. The night before, my father took me to Asaph's place. The drive was horribly boring and terribly embarassing, as he elected to do so in his pickup truck. Having to take the way there while hearing him blather on about how mature I was becoming was bad enough, but to venture down the long driveway in such a vehicle was nothing short of mortifying. Two servants had already come to the turnaround, and the second we came to a stop in front of them, I threw open the door and scrambled down, instructing them that my bag was in the bed.

At least then I had the cold as an excuse. I brought my hands to my mouth and exhaled over them, although I had thick gloves, as a means of covering as I darted to the door.

My father didn't try to follow me, simply called after me to have a good time, and even that sounded like an insult.



The night passed without incident. Asaph returned from Saffron, we dined late in the evening, and after a pleasant night's sleep in the guest room that was far more opulent than Asaph's personal room, we headed to Viridian to fetch Veronica.

We touched down in a field of snow, powdering out under us in a magnificent ring. A small colony of Nidoran scurried back into the tall grass at the edges, disturbed by the noise and sight of the craft, but they had ample time to have done so before our landing. Silly things.

Veronica awaited us nearby, the same red dress she had worn when we first met poking out from underneath a thick red peacoat. Her parents waited with her--she had described them to me at our previous meeting. Once embarked, I was met by her father, who thrust his hand out simply and insistently. But protocol demanded that I bow first, as he was a social better. Such a misleading term, but there was none other to use.

Impatient man. He grabbed my hand the moment I arose. "So you're Jirarudan." I had to be amused and a bit impressed by the fact that he pronounced it correctly. "Veronica told us so much about you. You're some sort of prodigy, she says." He patted me on the back as he said that and my brief respect faded. "And you're from Seafoam and your father makes ships...you wouldn't be Corbin's boy, would you?"

Would everyone I met ask me that? I nodded hesitantly, trying to make my disapproval at such a question apparent, but he was oblivious.

"I knew it! You've got his strong chin and broad shoulders. My business CEOs use his helicopters. Nothing but top of the line, you know." He thumped me on the back and laughed. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be interested in art. Always seemed so blue-collar to me."

"Franklin, leave the boy alone," Veronica's mother ordered as she fussed with her daughter's coat. "He's obviously not like his father if he's going to a gala like this." She smiled at me, face unnaturally tight. "We'd love to go, but both of us have conferences in the morning. Putting the finishing touches on the summer line by next week will take some long meetings." Turning back to Veronica, she kissed her forehead. "Tell me how it was. Oh, and I took that thing out of your luggage; you don't need that."

"All right, mother..." She returned the kiss, to the cheek, and turned towards me. A porter had taken the bag next to her, something she seemed surprised at when she reached down for it, for her eyes were slightly wide and her mouth was parted.

I held out my hand for her, bowing slightly to kiss her hand when she took it, but I was startled by her father's sudden laugh. "Tierney, I think someone's got designs on our little girl!" And there was the hand impacting with my back again.

Veronica winced for me, grabbing my hand as she turned red. "It's not like that!" she muttered. This man, I figured, had no sense of decorum. I was simply following the rules of society.

"Now now," her mother chided, "Veronica's far too young for that sort of thing. Besides, he looks like a gentleman."

I bowed to her as well. "Madame. I promise that your daughter will have a brilliant and enlightening trip." It sounded sufficient.

Tierney smiled again, but this time something lit up in her eyes. "Oh, how formal," she cooed. "How nice to meet such a distinguished young person. You'll learn a lot from each other, darling. And from Asaph, of course."

Asaph hadn't left the ship yet. But that was all right; he had to program the route to Goldenrod and ensure that we would have transportation from the airship dock to the museum, so he was quite busy.

After further parting words, Veronica and I boarded the ship. She waved as the door sealed shut before her, then scurried to the window to continue as we took off.




It had been a few hours and the sun was starting to descend ever so slightly. Asaph had more calls to make so Veronica and I were alone in the observation room, she watching the ground and I the sky.

It was so beautiful that day, and although I would come to see that glorious view, the heavens surrounding my shell of metal and glass, daily in the future, back then it was far more outstanding. We handily passed through towering cumulus clouds, the vapor trailing against the window like a fine veil.

For what I thought would be a moment, I glanced over at Veronica. She was staring down over the land with an intensity I'd never seen from her, so I moved to her window to see what she saw. But there was nothing there but the Indigo Plateau, the Pokémon League Village that would spring to life once a year now covered with a thin dusting of snow.

"There's nothing down there," I told her simply. "Why are you frowning?"

She pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head. "You know, they consecrate the competition to Moltres. But where they get the flame is a closely guarded secret."

Another bird I'd heard of in conjunction with Lugia--the passionate flame. But it didn't matter. "Seems like a waste to me."

"...yeah," she whispered, correcting herself with "yes" as Asasph came back in.



Time seemed to pass us by as we spoke of whatever we pleased. Soon enough, the mountains surrounding Goldenrod came into view, and the outlying city soon after. Beyond that the ocean, only a faint ribbon of silver past the steel and green. Moving in to land, it was lost entirely.

As we disembarked and a porter for the airfield took our luggage, Asaph chuckled to himself. "The two of you...what a wonderful experience this is! I envy you, you know. To be young again, to be doing all this for the first time...You're not sullied by those things that hound everyone else, and you won't be."

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked as the chauffeur held the door of the sleek black sedan open. She had to wait for Asaph to take his seat, but instead he turned back to us.

"Most of the people there can't appreciate things like we can," he told us, adjusting his coat almost as an afterthought. "They come because they want to be seen, to have their pictures on the society page. But the two of you aren't like that." That hand suddenly thrust upwards towards the clouds in an oddly dramatic gesture. "You're better than them, you're above them, like stars in the night sky. And you'll outshine them all."

Veronica had laughed when he made the motion, but now she only smiled thoughtfully. "You really think so? I look forward to it. You hear that, Jiri? We're better than them."

"It's a nice feeling," I said, but bit back that his gesture was thoroughly undistinguished. Did this mean we were better than him as well? That was a very nice feeling indeed.




The car wound through the city, past countless houses and apartments inhabited by people who lived unaware of our purpose, of what higher things existed in the world, of what was possible. It was almost sad, but I kept it inside.

Veronica watched out the opposite window, head turned away and hands folded in her lap. Asaph, in the passenger seat, was silent and took deep breaths. He had been speaking of this event for some time and I knew how eagerly he anticipated it. That calm, not just over him but over all of us, was settling and wonderful, and for a moment I thought we could well be the only three people in the world. Or four, if the driver was considered.

Goldenrod's downtown was magnificent, rows of trees adorned in white lights, and the odd storefront still displaying their Christmas decorations. I hadn't dared speak of my holiday, spent with my father trying to force cheer and presents on me. I had gotten him a pair of cufflinks, simply as a gesture of goodwill, and he commented on how they were so ostentatious and he prefered things plain. He later claimed he had been attempting to be playful, but it was too little, too late. But when Helen came in from the factory and he announced he was treating the both of us to fried chicken, it was enough to send me scurrying to my room. Days like that are best unspoken to better people.

The sun was already almost gone from the sky as we turned down another street, and Asaph told us we weren't far from the museum. I smiled in anticipation and turned back towards Veronica, who still occupied herself with her view. "This should be exciting," I commented.

She started, shaken from her distraction by the sound of my voice. "It should!" she agreed as she returned the smile. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Wait no longer," Asaph said, hushed.

We looked out again to see the museum beside us, the car slowing to a halt in front of a stone double stairway leading to the giant building. As we fully stopped, I unbuckled my seat belt a moment earlier in my eagerness.

Finally we were out, the chauffeur heading off to fulfil his complete contract with Asaph and check us into the hotel. Most didn't have such services, Asaph said, so we had to know where to look.

Up the stairs we went, past the ancient-looking stone Arcanine flanking the stairwell, through the magnificent glass and steel doors to the lobby. The entry hall wasn't as magnificent as the one in Viridian, but still quite beautiful, with stone columns leading up from the marble floor to the intricately carved ceiling adorned on all sides with a row of white lights. Perhaps left over from the holiday, or perhaps to set the mood for the evening.

People in their finery were already milling around around the coat check. I recognized Lucrezia and the man I had spoken with in the factory not long ago; oh yes, her son. I would have to recall that. As I passed them, I heard her tell him not to talk about his job. At least that would free me up. They would be unlikely to mention my father then.

We turned our coats over to the attendees, and Veronica tucked the tickets in her purse. Finally, Asaph led us past the clusters who merely wished to be seen to the premiere hall.

We were right on time; the doors had just opened and we were among the first in. And I was grateful for that, as it afforded us an unhindered view of the exhibit as it had been arranged. Paintings in a timeline of Tonio's work, encapsulating his earliest known sketches to his final masterworks, wound through the hall and past several dividers. A waiter passed with a tray of wineglasses, and the scent in the air told me that some fine Loirian cuisine was waiting for similar treatment.

I started to examine a painting, but Asaph caught my attention. "Jirarudan, there is someone I want you to meet."

He was standing with a woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties, black hair short-cropped and matching the overall look of her dress. She was shaking Veronica's hand, and turned to me for the same. "Hello," she said in what I could already tell was a very thick accent, "I am Amalie, the artist Tonio's descendant. You care for his work?"

Oh yes, she was the guest of honour. I nodded, although I said "To be honest, I haven't seen many of his works before. Although I've loved what I've seen and I look forward to seeing more tonight."

She smiled and continued to Veronica and me. "It's wonderful seeing young people engaged in art. Everyone wants to be trainers nowadays that it's all they care about. They forget there's more to life."

"Madamoiselle Amalie, did you have a good flight?" Asaph asked, although I was certain that Veronica was about to say something.

"Oh, I'm used to it." When she turned to face him, I saw a red mark on her neck that I hadn't noticed before.

He chuckled. "We're all glad you could attend. He was such a powerful painter, the way he brought the world to life."

"Now Asaph, don't monopolize her," an older woman with a museum identification said with a laugh.

Bowing to the both of them, he excused himself and sheparded us into a corner. "Truth be told, she knows very little of Tonio's work. She doesn't care for the art world herself."

"Is she a trainer then?" Veronica asked, a bit faster than usual.

"Only casually. She made her independent name as a race car driver."

Veronica giggled, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Are we starting soon?"

"Of course." People had started to flood the room, and he took a wineglass from the waiter passing by again.

As we approached the line of servers that had emerged holding silver trays aloft, Asaph spoke to us in a hushed tone. "Now, remember your manners," he reminded us. "No wine; you're too young. Keep to no more than two of each of the hors d’oeurves. It will be light, but you'll be able to order from the hotel when we go there."

Veronica giggled ever so slightly. "We've covered this. There's no need to worry."

He let out a sigh. "This is the first major social event for the both of you. A man frets for his children, or his students in this case." His smile seemed forced. So did his calm. "But I'm sure you'll do fine."

"We will. You forget that she and I met at a society event," I reminded him, leaving out the part that we had been in a room away from the main party.

"Yes, yes...As I said, I know you will both do fine. Any decent artist is nervous before a grand unveiling." He patted us on the backs, a far gentler gesture than Franklin had put us through earlier. "Now go. I'll be watching the both of you through the night, but don't let that hinder you. You must learn independence as well, my little treasures."

Weren't we surrounded by treasures?

She smiled up at him, face devoid of those worry lines that marked his. "We'll find you if there's any problem."

"That's a good girl," he sighed, but perked up almost immediately. "Oh, there's Monsieur Vien. I've been meaning to speak with him. I'll see the both of you later."

After some parting words, he headed off, and so did Veronica, although I was never far from them.



I started my way around the room, making small talk with several of the attendees as I went. I spoke of things I knew and learned of many more, but nothing of Lugia.

The paintings were attractive, but not to my taste. He had come to Kanto to learn the styles here and to teach the technique of his native Loire region, and before then, his works were mostly pastoral scenes; shepherds, farmers, and so on. But before I could delve much into his later works, after his shift in interest, something unusual stood out as I turned a corner.

Owing to Tonio's fascination with the natural history of Kanto, a string of paintings covered the excavation of several fossils from a quarry along the Vermillion coast. That, of course, was the spot where Omanyte was first discovered, and so the museum board had brought in quite a rare specimen to oversee the exhibit. An Omastar watched happily from the corner, a safe distance from the paintings depicting the cautious removal of its ancestors from the cliffs where they had laid interred for millennia.

The parallel between the ancient creature and where it was contained was incredible. Such a clever device! Glass or metal confinement would have only distracted from the openness of the exhibit, so the Omastar was kept in place via a simple force field. My father had books on these sorts of things; although they were impractical for construction, they were quite useful for testing mechanisms.

The note said that the field had been specially calibrated for Omastar's strength and level, and I wondered about the mechanics behind that. What a beautiful thing! The machine's simple elegance far eclipsed anything I had seen in the exhibit.

But I would have to research it later. Now was for the art, and it was indeed a lovely exhibit. Simply not as lovely as the shimmering field that contained the pokémon.

The Omastar waved its appendages at all passersby, some of whom waved back. Veronica did, but Asaph didn't, so neither did I.



After circling the room a few times, I returned to something I had been distracted from earlier. The painting had caught my eye more than the others, a landscape of a north Kanto mining town that would later become Pewter City. This was the turning point in Tonio's career, the small building to the right of center being the beginnings of the Natural History museum. When Tonio traveled through the region, objects of interest unearthed in the mine had only recently been displayed, as a means of attracting minor income to what had otherwise been a place of outside interest only as an overnight stop for travelers heading to Viridian or Cerulean.

Building up the area was a slow process, but the museum endured. And Tonio found his interest there, in the fossils and shells on halfhearted shelves in a dusty building. I couldn't help but consider my finding the Lugia figure in the basement exhibit of a distant museum; even though the parallel ended there, it was amusing just the same.

I examined it for a while, taking in the details of things. While it was the same style as his later works, the difference in subject matter was still jarring. He would do very few works of everyday life after this, instead taken with the world that the regions had been long before human life. And that had no interest for me, for without humans, you have no art. Not that landscapes were any better. So dull and boring. I could see those rolling hills only a few miles inland, with the precision and clarity of my own eyes rather than filtered through someone else.

Art was supposed to be something new. Something special, something sacred, something irregular. To only show what we see every day is a waste.

Someone laughed next to me, and for a moment I thought I had said the last thought out loud. But it was only Amalie, with Lucrezia's son behind her. They were muttering to each other, and likely deluding themselves that they were being subtle. But how obvious it was with his hands on her arms and her neck tilted in the very image of Makoto's famed painting of the Camaranian queen and her knight! Asaph had spoken of the innate sensuality of their posturing, and to see it before me was strange.

As I turned to examine another work, I could hear their words, in her native tongue, and he was quite bad at it. I shook my head. At the age of nine I understood the language better than he could at what had to be over three times that.

She laughed again and said something that I couldn't make out, but unlike him, not for lack of understanding. I was simply too far away by then, and left them to their own devices.




By the time I met up with Veronica again, I was quite exhausted and so was she. She subtly threw out a toothpick that had held a bit of Loirian sausage and cheese as she approached me, and indeed the cuisine had been delectible. But the evening had run together for me, as the art failed to affect me. The most impressive thing I had seen in the time was the containment shield, and overall I was disappointed. I had looked forward to the event, and felt let down.

Asaph, on the other hand, was upbeat and cheerful. "What a fascinating exhibit!" he enthused as he approached, hands clasped in a pose reminiscent of multitudes of portraits of saints in ecstasy. "How incredible! And I was pleased with the both of you. Veronica, Jirarudan; people spoke highly of you both."

"Great..." Veronica muttered, her head drooping. Fortunately we had left the hall by that point and it went unnoticed. She rooted around in her purse for the tickets and it took her far longer than it ought to have to find them.

"The hotel is a block away," Asaph said. "I'll take you there, but then I'll be off to a party. You two can manage on your own, right?"

I nodded, feeling a bit tired myself.

"As I said, you can order room service if you want," he reminded us. "Keep it under 7500p, though."

"Jiri can get something. I'll just go to bed," Veronica sighed.

It was after ten and very cold, wind tearing between the buildings and forcing the three of us to tighten up our coats in unconcious unison. Asaph seemed quite warm once settled, in his new hunter coat from his sojourn to Lopatin. Perhaps I could obtain one, or a better one.

By the time we reached the hotel, we were shivering, Veronica and I hunched over with our hands to our mouths, breathing through our gloves. I could hardly pay attention to my surroundings, although I saw Amalie and Lucrezia's son getting in the elevator a few moments before we arrived there.

On the way up, we warmed up considerably. The hotel was rather old, but had been kept up-to-date with things like heating and power, which was always a wonderful thing. Veronica had perked up a bit from the cold, and was humming something to herself.

"Now," Asaph double-checked as he unlocked the door to our room, "I'll be back in a few hours. You two call the front if you need anything. And you can stay up until I get back, but then I will need to retire for the night."

"We'll be fine. You have fun." Why was I sounding like my father? It was just late, that was all. I'd be far less pithy in the morning.

"Goodnight!" Veronica called after him. He waved as he closed the door, and I swear there was a skip in his step.

I was going to ask Veronica if she wanted anything, but she had already turned away to the washroom. Our bags were in the bedroom, I knew, and I wondered if it was all right for me to retrieve anything from it while she was in the adjoining room. In the end, I stayed in the sitting room to listen to the radio until a few minutes after I heard the shower turn off. Some jazz set from a concert decades earlier in a city I had never been to in a club that no longer existed played, and I realized that I wasn't quite listening to it. I was focused on watching the sky instead, the brillant lights of the city below giving a new aspect to the cover of dark.

That was the view I would never quite be able to see from my ship later on, that magnificent illumination in the thick of human congregation. But there were so many other things to see that it didn't matter.

Veronica said my name and it broke me from that reverie. Eventually we decided against a late dinner and that we would simply go to bed. After my shower and change, I laid down next to her. "When we get older, this will be quite improper, you realise," I remarked with a chuckle. "But we're still quite young so no one will think it strange."

"...Yeah..." was all she said. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before she turned the light on her side off. "Get that one."

It was unusual for her to be so blunt, but I acquiesced. Hmm, I was more tired than I had thought. I started to drift off, but Veronica was shifting on the mattress. After a few minutes, I'd had enough. "Veronica, please go to sleep."

"I can't." It was simple and direct.

"You're exhausted. You can sleep now."

"I can't...! I can't sleep with the light off! Aah, when's he getting back? Turn the lights on, I'm not tired, I'm not tired! Turn them on!"

"I don't have to do what you tell me." She was being obstinate, her rudeness sudden and unexpected. "If you had any of that wine, Asaph's going to have your head, you know."

Then she grabbed me, and I could feel she was shaking. It was inappropiately hot in there, so I knew it couldn't have been that. "Please...Turn the lights on...I can't stand this..."

Fine, I decided as I pulled myself up to a sitting position, which fortunately she dislodged for. Perhaps Asaph had brought a sleeping mask I could use. I would, with any luck, be asleep when he returned. A click of the lamp later and the room filled with light.

Veronica had turned to the centre of the bed, sitting on her knees. And she was crying. "...thank you..." she said, quiver of her body distorting her voice slightly.

Had that been it? She was upset? "Veronica, I'm sorry...I'm just tired..."

She waved her hand, the corners of her mouth tensing up. "I get so scared at night..."

"Being in a new place can be uncomfortable," I told her, biting back the idea that I was positive my father had said the same thing to me at some point. "But there's nothing to be afraid of. It's only a hotel room."

"I'm not afraid of the dark."

"Oh?" I patted her hand, as had been discussed in one of my comportment lessons, but it seemed far too little a reaction. "Then what--"

She cut me off before I could ask it, but it was unnecessary anyway. "I get so lonely! Being in the dark terrifies me because I can't *see* anyone! I can't see Ralts...Ralts isn't even *here*..." As she was talking, she grabbed my arm. "That thing my mother said she took out of my luggage, it was my night light. I'm twelve years old and I still sleep with a goddamn nightlight..."

"Oh..." There wasn't much else in it. I worked my arm out of her hold, and drew her close so she leaned against me. "Veronica, you can tell me anything..." I knew I couldn't do anything for her, but it was something suitable to say.

"You're a real friend..." she sighed. "I need someone I can go to...God, that sounds like I'm using you or something..." A sniffle before she said anything else. "I'm sorry. I've just been up for way too long. I had to get up at the crack of dawn to get all made over."

"You did? I woke up about an hour before we left."

"No, see, you look nice when you're all dressed up. I look like some fancy doll," she scowled as she ran a hand through her hair. "You look natural. You just brushed your hair, put your suit on, and dashed some cologne on, right? My parents kept on me all morning--Jiri, they hired a makeup artist!"

I furrowed my brow. "I couldn't tell you were even wearing makeup."

"Exactly! Two hours of skin treatment because I have a few pimples." I almost chastized her for her blunt language but decided against it. "Every person there was twelve once...well, except for you, of course..." She suddenly quieted, staring at the mattress, and I noticed tears welling in her eyes.

"Well, you looked lovely today," I assured her as I handed her a tissue from the bedside table. "Miss Amalie has her own visual flaws and she's spoken of as a beauty. She certainly didn't have any trouble making company," I added with what I hoped was a disarming chuckle as I rose from the bed to open the windowshade. She wouldn't be alone, not with a whole city out there.

"Yeah...but that's different. Birthmarks are considered 'exotic.'" She made brief quote marks with her fingers and I had the impression she did it unaware. "Acne's far too common. It's 'normal' so they can't stand it." After wiping her eyes, she laid back again, setting her head on the overstuffed pillow, the action puncuated by a long sigh. "It would't be so bad if they let me get a word in edgewise. They keep treating me like an infant."

I turned off the light and laid down as well, the new falling snow out the window illuminated by the city around us, the streetlights twenty floors below. "My father's the same way," I muttered, despite Asaph's instructions. "Always trying to force me to live by his rules. He thought I wanted to be a trainer! Can you imagine something so inane?"

She shifted position to face the window.

I continued. "Anyway, I'm just glad that I liked these lessons. He didn't give me a choice." I certainly knew I was leaving out key details, but I didn't particularly care.

"Was your mother the same way?"

That took me off guard. Although it was most ungentlemanly of me, I rather enjoyed the tack I had taken. Perhaps an odd thought, but expressing my distaste for him was almost comforting. By that same gesture, the thought of speaking of my mother made me ill at ease. The thought of describing someone so dear to me and wonderful; why would that be such an uncomfortable thought when complaining about someone I hated came with such ease? "What a strange dichotomy," I mused aloud. "I despise my father but I don't mind talking about him as we were. I love my mother but I can't find the words for her."

A chuckle from Veronica's side. "With all your words, you can't find any for her?"

"Hmm?" I yawned.

She yawned as well before saying "most nine-year-olds don't say things like 'dichotomy'."

Smiling, I reached over to pat her shoulder, but she had already fallen asleep. I remained awake for a bit after, considering the day, but was asleep before Asaph returned.

 

[Legacy]

Awesome chapter. Your prose and complexity in your character's dialog makes the whole chapter seem very smooth and free flowing. I loved it.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Dialogue is what I find easiest. Describing things, on the other hand, is my worst enemy.

I'm glad it came across as smooth. This is the first chapter I wrote in bits as opposed to straight through.

 

[Legacy]

Well very good. I could learn a thing or two about dialogue and character speech from you. Look forward to the next installment!

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Well, my secret is acting out scenes as some of the characters.

Also that I have no life, but shhh.

 

[Dr. GM]

Well Blackjack, it's fine doing that. I mean, when I write, I think of myself as the main character, so acting it out should be a thinking strategy rather than a secret to good writing. So kudos to you...

(P.S. I don't wanna read your stuff anytime soon cuz it looks too long and intimidating, so this isn't a comment, really)

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

It's really not that long. 20 chapters in an 11-page thread? I've got some parts that are less than a page long.

 

[Dr. GM]

Either way, pretty intimidating...

...maybe in Spring Break when I have a ton of time... XD