[ You can be a bit of a pain at times but I do and will always care for you, Cynthia. Thank you for being my best friend throughout all of these years. I know you say that these are cheesy and nerdy but it is how I express my feelings. I love you very much. You're like a sister to me, who never fails to cheer me up or look out for me if I do anything reckless. Happy Valentine's Day. I do hope these won't get mixed up with your admirers ] - attached is a palm sized box filled with chocolates
“What a big softie you are! Don’t worry, chocolates from admirers may come and go but best friends are eternal! Happy valentines, lovely Riley! I hope you got some chocolates from someone other than me and your mother this year - One day you’ll gossip with me about your love life!”
The sky, tinted with hues of blue, white and grey signalled an early winter. As he steps out into the front porch, he sees the first falling snow hit the ground. The balaclava is wrapped tighter around his neck and he exhales. Today, he’s free to do as he pleases. So he steps out into the crowds and walks into the city centre.
He wanders aimlessly, for today no work could bother him. It was far from Christmas, so he did not have to daunt himself with strenuous shopping. He heads, instead, to his favourite haunt in the city, a famous shop located near one of the gates leading out of the city - the same shop that sold the everlasting Lumiose Galette.
He reaches the shop, picks out a few choice notes and exchanges them for a sweet treat, and then he turns around and his eyes catches a foreign face; few were out due to the cold. He eyes the man curiously and stops to observe. There is a certain air about him that seemed...different.
Sycamore does not say anything and continues to watch the man. His foreign air would mean that he was a tourist of some sort, but what sort of tourist hangs around during such freezing temperatures? So he continues to watch the man go about his business and though nothing is said, he knows the man is well aware that his gaze is boring into his back.
So Sycamore turns away, averts his gaze and sits by nearby bench a little ways away from the man and enjoys his treat. Perhaps the man would come over, speak to him. Whichever way, it did not matter. He began to chow down on his dessert but his eyes never leave the man.
[ I'm not too used to this, but I'd like to say Happy Valentine's Day Barry. Thank you for being my friend. Your bright aura never fails to make me smile. Though you're training in using aura still has a long way to go, so long as you don't give up, I too will try my best to help teach you. Also, I hope these are satisfactory ] - attached to the card is a palm sized box of homemade chocolates
“Hey, thanks...!” Barry mumbled to Riley through a mouthful of chocolate, peering in the direction of the distant Iron Island. “Ol’ Riley came through--that’s a pretty cool message, right? We’re gonna work on my training until I become a total Aura Master!”
Infernape nodded halfheartedly, grousing as another piece of chocolate melted in his hands. Being a Fire-type had its disadvantages, to be sure.
“Riley, wherever you are, happy V-day,” Barry proclaimed, thumping his chest. “One day I’m gonna bust you outta that cave and set you up with a good date! Sinnoh’s finest matchmaker, back in action!”
It’s a trip overseas to Canalave. He finds the local haunt and places himself firmly in the centre of it all. Still sober, he finds himself chatting with the barkeep, who slides him one ‘on the house’. It’s good, the local liquor, a portent sweetness, and he drinks with abandon. He now thinks the chatter annoying and reminiscent of his father’s blabber.
He loves the rush that the alcohol brings to him; sends his mind to another realm and his veins with the fires of passion. When he finds himself outdoors for a smoke, he eyes three young men heading out of the bar, clearly intoxicated as he. Allen lights the cigarette with an unsteady hand and puffs, filling his lungs with the toxic perfume.
The three men are chatting wildly, and Allen, the fool, mumbles, rather loudly: “Shut it.”
The next thing he finds himself pinned against the wall. “Say that again, darling,” the youngest of the group, and the clear leader of the pack says, hissing and smiling dangerously.
Allen spits in his face.
He does not notice a younger man walking up to the group with their fists raised. Allen feels the blood drain from his face, and his already pale face is paler still. He soon tastes blood.
“One more thing, darling. Next time, I won’t go easy.” As they walk away, he spits in their direction. “Easy?” he shouts after them, “The only thing easy about this is you three!”
He finds the men turning on their heels and as quickly as they left, they surround him with their fists raised once more. Allen, whose cigarette had long stubbed out, braces himself for impact.
“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.” c:
“I’m not half-asleep,” he mutters dozily, lying by the campfire.
Which isn’t true, of course. The warmth is lulling him to sleep, not that he would ever admit it. It’s only the occasional plume of smoke that catches the wind and causes his eyes to water that keeps him awake, but there’s no way he’s going to retire to the tent.
“If I fall asleep now, then that’ll mean less time with you. What if I don’t see you in my dreams? I have to stay awake as long as you do in order to maximize the… the…”
His eyelids droop.
Roark buries his head in the pillow.
“And what’s this about bein’ endearing? Ain’t I always endearing to you?”
“Or am I no longer cute since I’m not a kid no more? If it takes that, then I’ll never fall asleep again. Unless you sleep first. But the best-case…” Yawn. “… Scenario would be us both stayin’ up. Work hard to keep me only half-asleep, all right?”
Its becoming more frequent-- his need to run away from it all; to lose himself in his own hobbies; to forget for a little while all that currently plagues him. He runs to Sinnoh this time with every intention to throw himself into exploration. Everything was going to be ok then, just so long as he could enjoy some time outside of his current worries. Devon plagues him, its responsibility and representation looming over him even more prominently than he likes. He seeks resolution to the issues at hand, but is not quite ready to accept all it stands for-- not yet at least. He’s not ready for the responsibility, or for the consequences.
He arrives at the Iron Island a few days after he sets out from Hoenn, and while he knows his arrival will be unannounced and sudden he feels it’s simply the right thing to do. It’s been some time since he’s seen Riley and while he doesn’t wish to trouble him with his own problems he does intend to bring him to his real destination: Snowpoint City. It will be good for both of them-- a break from training and a break from a normal routine. He hopes Riley will see it that way at least and already prepares to keep things well under control. As long as he doesn’t think about the problems that trouble him it should be alright. It’s easier said than done of course and he realizes it as he steps off the boat and makes his way up to the house stationed there.
It’s a long walk to the house and one he uses to calm himself down to the best of his ability. On the outside it’s easy enough to feign a neutral expression, a false smile, or other feelings, but when your friend can read past that due to their fascinating abilities it’s another matter entirely. He’s never been able to outfox Riley but this time he’s ready to try. He’s sure if he can keep his thoughts off what’s bothering him then it will work.
He keeps a lookout for Riley as he approaches and when he doesn’t see him he assumes he’s inside. He sets his bag down before the building and draws up his hand to knock on the door and waits for Riley to answer. I hope he’s not in the cave. He mulls over it and looks off towards the cave in question, and in light amusement wonders how surprised Riley would be to stumble upon him in the caves. Luckily that’s not the case, as the door opens and he sees his friend standing there.
A calm yet genuine smile eases its way to his features as he takes the other in. He hasn’t changed. Are his first thoughts and that makes it easier to smile, to relax and know that this was the right choice to make in coming here.
“Riley, it’s good to see you! I was in the area and thought to stop by.” It’s evident by his bags that he’s planning to stay for awhile. “May I come in?”
Sycamore does not say anything and continues to watch the man. His foreign air would mean that he was a tourist of some sort, but what sort of tourist hangs around during such freezing temperatures? So he continues to watch the man go about his business and though nothing is said, he knows the man is well aware that his gaze is boring into his back.
Taking a bite of his treat, he savored it for a moment before turning to the stranger, a soft smile on his lips. “Excuse me but I couldn’t help but notice that you were staring at me. I’m not offended, just curious. Did you need something from me?”
[ ♚ ] — It’s the dawn of the second semester. The students’ faces still remain hopeful and bright as an aftereffect of the much-needed Christmas break — glowing with youth and the disappearing eye bags. Surprise! They’ll be back to their familiar lifeless exteriors once their facades of joy begin to fade (which should take around less than three days).
The fact that Atticus managed to earn a bursary from Hearthome University still remains a curiosity to him. He honestly doesn’t think he deserves it, but seeing as the sleepless nights in Lumiose Public Library paid off and granted him a perfect score, it’s no wonder that Boy Wonder Atticus is back with a somewhat clearer path and the slightest hint of direction in his life. Honestly, he doesn’t intend on sticking to his major, Pokémon Physiology. But the sense of security and sureness that a declared major leaves no room for him to change his mind — which he thinks is a good thing. It may be restrictive and binding, but it’s also warm and welcoming all the same.
He’s made his fair share of friends (perhaps not really friends but mates, who are mostly there for fun and stress-relief) and an unofficial fanclub of which he is unaware of. Some of them were kind enough to take him in for Christmas as he refused to go back to Kalos over the break. (It’s not like he actually had the choice; he doesn’t have the money, but he’d like to think that he wouldn’t have gone back even if he was still the rich boy he used to be). Though it seems that they mostly keep him around not out of genuine interest, but because of his polished demeanour. Because of his magnetic allure to the girls they were infatuated with. They’d hope that the girls would realise that Atticus had a sharp tongue and that he wasn’t afraid to let it loose. He doesn’t know why he sticks around with those boys, anyway. Perhaps it’s the comfort of not being alone.
As per usual, there’s the routine “good morning” from a group of girls that Atticus never replies to. At first he thought it was strange and slightly creepy, but on good mornings he’d give them a nod or a muttered “morning” (to which they gossip about for a good four minutes). Heck, it’s the first day of the new semester.
“Good morning,” he speaks, this time crisply.
‘Pokémon Biopsychology 201’ is scrawled across the blackboard in large print.
He prepares for the lesson, unlike the other students, setting his ring-bound notebook and pen down neatly on his desk. He flings his coat off and onto his chair almost resentfully burdened by the extra piece of clothing that winter forces upon him. This is a two-semester course, which he doesn’t mind because he actually likes the course, with familiar faces from last time. He doesn’t know their names, nor did he bother asking. He just knows them as “the girl who's always looking at memes” or “the dude with funny patterned socks”. But he does know one person in the class.
Except he isn’t here yet, which is strange. He’s usually the earliest. He’s the only person, besides Atticus, who actually does work and pays attention in class.
