A/N:

I have a note book that is filled with all kinds of small pieces of writing, usually just ideas or figments of my imagination. I sometimes work them out further, but I don't always feel like thinking of a plot or a well-running dialogue; sometimes, you just want to write. I didn't know what to do with all those pieces of work, but then I decided to create a new file just for those stories. The emphasis often lies on description (because I use it as a means to improve myself) and are different than my other stories - but then again, you might appreciate it. And at least I have a destination for the contents of my note book, haha.

That's all I have to say now... oh, and it probably will be mainly Oldrival what I write, but there might be some other things too. Just what I feel like writing. And I think the updates will be more frequent than my usual stories, since I don't let this proof-read, and it is usually just written without furher thoughts. That was the author's note for this time ;D

Disclaimer: These are purey fan-made pieces of work, I own nothing of Pokémon.

(K)nightmare

She was having a nightmare.

Again.

Creatures from the dark, hidden in shadows, advanced on her and closed her in; without being able to see (because it was so dark) she knew she was trapped. And that there was no way out.

Feet that didn't make a sound shuffled; teeth that remained silent clattered. A sudden dispersion of darkness showed an assembly of ice sculptures, as far as the eye could see. They gleamed and glistened, alight despite the absence of light itself.

Their presence was threatening. She didn't know why, because they were beautiful and delicately built; more translucent than the finest glass, more breakable than the frailest china. But she was choked with fear, eyes wide open and limbs petrified.

Her legs didn't move. Here arms didn't listen to her orders.

Her mind was shut out from her body, and no solution dawned; it was just her and the creatures of ice.

Again.

A wordless scream escaped her mouth as the sculptures moved towards her (she didn't know how - they were lifeless, they were cold - ) but it didn't help. Her shout for help seemed to dissolve in the frosty air, falling down on the ice tiles as crispy snow or hail. Cold engulfed her as winter filled the room. She knew she would be frozen before the sculptures would reach her; dead before help could even have come.

An end without compassion, an end without dignity. Still.

But then a sudden warmth pervaded her; hands closed around her waist, a body pulled her close. As comfort and love and blind relief flooded her, the ice sculptures retreated. She could see them melting, disappearing in a stream of ice-cold, ice-clear water; before the darkness lifted and all was light again.

All was well, too.

*

Green held her in his arms, almost like a mother would do with her child. But no words of comfort, spoken in soothing tones, escaped his mouth; and no tender, stroking gestures sprang from his arms. He just held her, still and silent. Because beneath the tiredness, the thick blanket of sleep that threatened to cover him, he knew that was what she liked best.

Someone to be there for her. Someone to provide solace and consolation. Someone who knew her better than herself.

Later, she would thank him; later, she would say it meant the world for her, his silence, his arms, his not-judging. He knew she would. Because that's how it always went. He was her knight getting her out of her nightmares, she said.

Knightmare.

-

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(And he didn't even mind the spelling mistake.)