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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@preciousdollie
Dahlia Hawthorne ❥ Ace Attorney
girlboss gatekeep gaslight
lace, grace, and butterflies
pretty in pink & permanently retired
literature major at ivy university
hair as soft as silk, tongue as sharp as glass
petite poison dispenser with a parasol
people pleaser, princesscore
petty? oh darling, that's just the payback talking
よろしくお願いします～❤︎
app ❥ stats ❥ tags ❥ navi ❥ rules
alas, poor yorick!
L'inferno (1911)
" No biggie! We're in this together. "
" Oh right the book gave me away huh? But wow, and you let a treasure like him go? Since you said old... " Eiden laughs, " sorry though, you're right so I can't become a replacement I'm afraid. "
Clueless, bright laugh rings in the air.
" Oh huh that important huh! I've got no accolades...former corporate slave haha ? "
"Oh, I don't doubt I might've ended up one of them if I ever graduated."
"The job market's just that brutal these days, especially for liberal arts majors. You've quit since, I assume?" He did say former corporate slave.
"I'm going to guess you went for a creative field instead. That's usually where the burnout finds new sparks."
It was honestly an enticing concept- existing in a world wholly detached from her previous mission. Stripped of most of her power, all of her resources, faced with an almost entirely ordinary life. Even when she’d had such a thing before, it was never real. No matter the connections made, Cyn- the Absolute Solver, rather- was always lying in wait, its own purpose it had filled her with underlying every action taken, whether in the open or in the shadows.
Now, though…it all seemed much less feasible, at least for now. So what to do? Should she form a true, honest connection just for the heck of it? Could she really have someone in her corner on a basis that didn’t involve brainwashing or hopelessness in resistance?
Probably not. But she sure wants to find out, and this girl might just make a good test run of that! Speaking of, she stops to survey the spot the other had chosen for them, taking note of the beauteous tree and the ample shade it provides.
“This? Will work Just-Fine!” With a clear attempt at elegance, the drone teeters over to the spot by her new acquaintance and slumps unceremoniously into it. She rights herself and focuses on the young woman, giving a smile. “Oh there are. so many! People to make friends with here. May-maybe even…people you know, which I am, not one of. You can ju-just call me
Cyn!”
Sin?
It's hard to guess the spelling without context. Perhaps it was short for something else, like Cindy. Seeing the hand(s) proffered her way, Dahlia's gaze rested curiously on both. It was a little revolting, but the owner of them did have a certain odd charm.
Besides, when it came to the grotesque, she had her fair share of the disgusting to her name. It was just packaged better.
"I'm glad to hear that, truly," she concludes and takes a napkin to wipe her own hands—the skin faintly wet with condensation from the cups—before grabbing a fresh one to take the drone's as well while completing their handshake.
"I haven't had much luck with my human friends."
"I'd like to think the alternatives are better. You're a very promising start."
There's a lot of excuses you could give. You could say you're a good person and you don't want to hurt people, even if they might not be real. You could say that you're weak, and you can't actually hurt someone with your body like this. Or you could say that you just don't know how, because you aren't really the kind of person who gets into fights in the first place.
And there's a bit of truth to all of those things. But they all mask (haha) the larger truth, which is that you're just scared. Scared of too many ifs, ands, buts, and what ifs to list. Not that you're going to admit that.
"People like that... usually get bored after a while," you shrug. "Things are different where I come from, so I don't really see the point. NPCs despawn, you can't die, and you're stuck with the same people forever, so... why bother?"
You didn't really expect such violent encouragement from a girl like this, but you appreciate the contrast.
"Unless... Maybe if it was easier," you say, bringing a hand to your chin. "One of my friends back home told me they used to own weapons for stuff like this... Do you think you can just buy... I don't know, a tommy gun in this city?"
"I can't say I've tried," Dahlia replies brightly. "If it came to that, I'd rather borrow one or get it as a gift. It's a lot more subtle that way, don't you think?" And less easier to track.
"Besides, there's plenty of other props you can use in its place. The key is to be simple but creative about it. Lack of imagination pushes you to a dead end—unfortunately, I've learned that lesson the hard way."
She trails off a bit, twirling a lock of red hair around her finger. Then Dahlia leans in, thoughtful.
"It's less about waiting for them to get bored and more about seizing initiative by the reins. If we're all stuck in the same Hell, I'd rather be the one deciding how pleasantly my time passes in it."
"All very whuh?"
Blinking once from her spot at the café table, Frye's words came out muffled, mid-bite through a morning cupcake with sugary pink frosting stuck to her lips.
The eel trainer took a moment to swallow hard, leaning back on her elbow to stare up at the sudden stranger with a sharp golden gaze raking her up and down. Sheesh, this was a fancy one, huh? Bold move to approach her out in the open like this with so many frilly and lacy knickknacks to grab. And coupled with a weird comment like that to boot, too?
"Whaddaya mean?"
The metal chair scraped against the concrete as she shifted back upright in her seat, jabbing a thumb to gesture towards her coffee. Which, in true Frye fashion, was topped to the brim with far too much whipped cream and chocolate drizzle to ever be appropriate.
"It's not even close to lunchtime yet. I still gotta get my sugar rush in! Fuel my power for the day!"
Sushi wasn't a bad idea for a snack later, though!
This was a dessert before dinner kind of gal, was it?
Dahlia feels her nose wrinkle, both from the combination of noise and frosting stains as well as the stranger's loud and confident declaration. It only lasts briefly before her characteristic placid smile returns, however.
"I was thinking how sweets and entrées shouldn't mix," she replies simply. Her earlier jab had clearly flown over the eel trainer's head, so it was a little moot continuing the joke at her expense.
"Sugar highs have never worked out for me. I'm impressed you haven't died from glucose poisoning yet, with the amount of sweet things you're stuffing down your craw."
She's got a point there! She probably wouldn't want mustard on her clothes and stuff like that. Eiden turns to the kiosk holder.
" Sure thing, make that two of those? Strawberry and whatever she wants, thank you. "
Soon enough they're served those and an ice pack as promised.
" A newbie eh? It's been long from my arrival now but believe me I know how that feels..."
" I'm Eiden Itadori. Sorry to meet you like this though. "
Holding the ice pack to her forehead in one hand and her cranberry-chocolate bar in the other, Dahlia is nothing but smiles as Eiden speaks to her.
"I see, so there's new people coming in all the time."
"Thank you for looking after me. I know you might not swing that way, but it reminded me of my old boyfriend, teehee."
Nice and a little stupid.
"It's nice to meet you, Eiden. I'm Melissa Foster, a former junior at Ivy University."
"Apparently the one who made it first called it a "Pretty Woman", but a bunch people started complaining since we already had a Piano Man. So they went out and made a Piano Woman just for that certain case."
For some reason Jill thought it was a lot simpler the first time she heard it. "A pianist wanted a drink and they needed a name" simple but really once the others told her about the true story it made a lot more sense. At least without jumping through a million different hoops.
"Though I suppose you can listen to music too. Doesn't hurt regardless of what you are drinking."
Dahlia smiles over the rim of her drink, her lips framed by blue beneath and dim bar lights above.
"All right," she agrees.
"Why don't you recommend me a song? I've had good experiences with your taste so far." She brushes her fingers over the glass, before adding, "I think I'd like something a little more savage, to offset this drink. I like things with contrast."
One pickle jar was fine, maybe two, but ten more?
The Batter is... unmoved, really. Helping children isn't really motivating for him. In fact, he'd rather stay away from them. He really considers telling her to find someone else.
But he's also... got nothing else to do.
This is really stupid.
"Fine."
Make himself useful in some way, since his other... talents... don't do much here. He looks at her, eyes narrowed, and then strides over to the table. The kids don't seem to pay him any mind. Thankfully. He's never been good with them.
Dahlia trails after him like her butterflies trail after her—light and fluttery, hovering just out of sight. She watches with satisfaction as he deals with all the jars, then sticks a plastic fork in each one so the children can access the pickles in them more easily later.
"Thank you," she chirps at the end.
"The children and I both appreciate it. Would you like a hot dog?"
She gestures to a table over, where another volunteer is grilling sausages next to a plate full of buns.
"It's not much, I know, but they're freshly made. Oh, or do you have any dietary restrictions?"
There it was. Enough needling, and the layer of darkness came gushing through like the world's messiest form of bloodletting. She was a little demoness after all! Which meant it was time for Rosebud to do what she did best*: hyper-psychoanalyze! (*This is not what she did best.)
"Aha! I totes knew there was a gold-digger in there somewhere." Rosebud remarked, halting her bouncing. "I'll admit, you definitely have the looks to pass as a good bride. I can't imagine how many men you've scammed with that sweet face and girly smile."
"If I weren't so perceptive, smart and pretty, I'd almost be one of them! Just, as a girl of course. And still pretty. But that's besides the point." Hey, Rosebud was open to the idea. If this woman were anything other than who she was, she'd be more than willing to ask her on a date. "Ignoring that horse comment for a sec, that sounds like a pretty sad life to be leading. Is money worth never finding true love? Auntie here thinks not!"
And more importantly... what happened to the men afterwards? Did they just wind up flat broke after the fact? Rosebud could only hope that they managed to bounce back from the financial ruin.
Flat on the ground was more accurate. It was a little hard to bounce back when you were dead (!). Dahlia's brows wrinkle slightly at the flower's idealistic views before she's exhaling a sigh in distaste.
"I doubt you've ever fallen in love yourself, petal-pincher."
"Only someone so inexperienced could be so naive about romance."
It was striking how terribly clueless some people (plants?) could be about the world. Judging from the flower's large, luxurious petals and cute sugar-pink hair, she'd bounced back enough times to stay some form of winning in life.
"Love is a feeling—and like any emotion worth its weight, unsustainable in the long run. The human heart would give out from beating a mile a minute just to process those sensations, understand? I'd rather use the money I get from bagging a man on expensive spa treatments. It'd last longer and keep me looking better, darling."
"There's nothing to do in this city."
"I think I should've just stayed dead."
The tap on the arm snaps him out of... whatever he'd been doing (watching two birds squabble by a fountain), eyes snapping toward the woman who approached him.
Ignoring how the way she dresses and how she carries herself brings back nauseating memories, he just furrows his brow and takes the jar from her hands.
"Okay."
The lid pops off for him without any real effort put into it. The Batter passes the jar back to her.
"There."
"Thank you." She cradles the open jar between her hands before smiling at him encouragingly. "You're quite dependable. Are you free at the moment?"
"We have a few more jars to open over there—they're holding a picnic today, you see, for the children. Hot dogs and pickles are on the menu."
She gestures behind her towards a different section of the park, spread out with tables full of food and kids running on the grass behind them. Notably, at least 10 more pickle jars lie sitting in wait.
"You're the SECOND person I've met who's accused me of eating people. Carnivorous plants wished they looked as good as me!" Rosebud firmly stated. "I only call them as I see them, dearie. And if anyone here's a feral man-eater, it's the girl with the honey trap smile!" The flower woman had seen more than her fair share of brides with less than savory intentions. She developed something of a sixth sense for women who could take advantage of the men they're being married to. It's part of the reason she wanted to become a master wedding planner in the first place! But that wasn't the big issue here, surprisingly enough.
"In fact, I'm not even here to judge you for it! I'm more offended that you're pretending to be someone you're not. You should own your nasty side, sister." There was nothing that Rosebud hated than a woman who didn't stay true to herself; even if that "true self" was a harlot with a dangerous side. After all, without honesty, there was no such thing as true love!
"Just don't be surprised if it scares the boys away, teeheehee!" Rosebud joked, bouncing up and down like a goofball on her goof ball.
"I wonder which one of us has the bigger appetite."
"You look like you could fit a horse in there."
So much for appearances. Dahlia combs fingers through her hair before her expression drops, indifferent arrogance taking its place. Practice makes perfect, but there was no need to play nice for a bud without a single carat of semi-precious stone on its body.
"You've already answered for me, haven't you, dandelion-head? The men I target prefer women who play nice. It isn't as if I'm even interested in them in the first place, so it doesn't matter what I am, only what they see."
"..." She didn't know why but... something about this girl just seemed wrong. Like, if Rosebud were to marry her off to some unfortunate man, his family might never hear from him again. THAT kind of wrong.
Maybe it was the devilish red hair, or the stereotypical innocent look she was putting on, but Rosebud was not swallowing it.
"Well, 'the flower' thinks those butterflies smell something nice. Maybe it's your perfume? Smells like you've thrown on a lot." Rosebud pointed out, giving the woman a look of suspicion. "How many coats did you need to cover up the stink of evil?"
"Well! Aren't you a surprisingly venomous flower."
"I don't suppose you attract any bees with that kind of attitude. Let me guess, you're carnivorous too?"
Wrapping her silken shawl tighter around her shoulders, Dahlia plays with a lock of hair while studying her latest opponent. She had thought they could get along as friends, but it seemed Miss Perky Petals was one stem short of pistil-whipping her to peat moss and back.
"Quite frankly, someone should plant that potty mouth of yours into a fresh new pile of compost. The weeds would love it, I'm sure."
" It's fine... It happens. "
Has happened before in fact. What kind of curse was it that had been cast over him with how many incidents related to the fictional hottie he'd went through. Dutifully he pays the volume and the new one he got - and thanks for the sun shelter.
" Right here around the corner... "
He then knocks on the hatch right at the corner.
" Excuse me... You sell water right ? Or if you've got ice I'd like some bagged? I'll pay whatever. "
It can't be that expensive after all. The cornerstore - or rather, kiosk, has been there a long time apparently.
" Anything else? They don't sell wonders in here but I can buy some small snack maybe? Like hot dog? "
"Mm..."
"It might be nice to get an ice cream bar? It is a little hot today."
Everything is going well, so naturally Dahlia goes with the flow. She can even forgive this man for his unfortunate taste in literature if he continues playing his part.
"What's your name, by the way? I've only come to this city last week, so I've hardly met a soul."
