Hey, I'm back!

I've been using all this extra time granted by COVID to start my dream story, this tale I've had trapped in my skull for years now, but I'm stuck right now so I figured might as well use my creative juices for SOMETHING while I try to figure that out in my other story.

Also the sooner I get through this arc the sooner I get to the stuff that I am very very excited to write about.

Chapter 15: The Facade's Shadow

Marlun

It appears that Iris's dragon parents are fully capable of understanding her words, but the moment I open my stupid mouth, they're staring at me with their sharp starry yellow eyes. Their bodies are massive, tangled heaps of three-headed fury, navy blue and black like the night sky, and their red violet ruffs have been braided up and down by their human child at some point or another.

Iris's small brown fingers tighten around my hand when she tells her parents, "Yes, this is my new girlfriend Marlun. Sh-She wanted to meet you." Her mouth brawls itself, tumbling into this big tidy smile, but anyone with eyes can see it wobble, threatening to fall right off her face.

The dragons make low, guttural sounds that cause Iris's brow to furrow. "I-I know, I know what you told me. But c'mon, can't I be allowed to have one girlfriend? Just one! Just one! I have literally listened to all of your other rules perfectly." Angrily her fingers tighten about my own, and what I took as her insecurity now flattens out into a sneer over her lips.

My chest tightens.

She's fighting for me. For me.

And I literally just asked her out like ten minutes ago.

If Fillmy was here, she would serve as some dour reality check where all of this flutters apart before my very hands, in spite of how tightly I cling to Iris.

Scamp mewls somewhere in my knapsack. She'd probably have some annoying comment for that too.

I grit my teeth, standing my ground.

While the dragon parents loom silently and all broody-like in front of me, I make a giant bow, my wavy, unruly hair flopping all over my face. "I'm Marlun, and I plan to take great care of your daughter, scary dragon parents!"

The way they grunt and glower over one another after my introduction tells me that they comprehend me just as well as I don't them. I glance to Iris, for a cue, for some sort of reassurance, but she's just staring blankly ahead. I sort of nudge at her, but she's short like Fillmy and I end up catching her chin with my shoulder. I wince and squeak an apology to her; she flushes, shaking her gentle head. What a conversation.

She surprises me by speaking. "I'm okay. I'm just..." She keeps her voice low, subtle. "They're trying to decide what they think of you. Currently it's up to the grimer sweatshirt you're wearing. They don't know if they like it or not." She breaks off to say, "It's 'pretty ugly, or ugly pretty', Mom," I guess because the one thing dragon parents can't do is read.

Iris wrinkles her nose. The temptation to kiss or at least poke it is overwhelmingly strong. She glances my way to say, "Okay, yeah, they think it's funny." A low, lumbering growl escapes from one dragon parent's maw, and I freeze in place, every last hair standing up on my arms. Giggling, my new girlfriend leans against me. "Hey, that's a good sign! They're laughing!"

I swallow hard. "They sound like they're preparing to eat me."

One of them releases a low burst of steam from a nostril, then utters something low and guttural. Iris slaps a hand over her mouth and attempts to quiet her burst of laughter. It must be at me, at something her parents said, I realize, and my pinky red face smolders.

"What did they just say," I groan out the corner of my mouth.

"Humans aren't very tasty."

I blink, struggling to breathe. "Is that just a guess, or are they speaking from experience."

"Oh, don't worry, Marlun!" Iris's cheery voice does little more than sicken my stomach. "They stopped eating people after adopting me!"

Oh.

Oh great.

I consider whether taking a girl out on a date is worth the risk of my very life ending. Then I hang my head, dropping it into my free hand, because I look into myself and all I see is the longing for Iris's lips to grace my own.

"'Tis a worthy death," I mumble into my palm, tears trickling down my face.

"Haha, what was that?" Iris asks, but she receives no coherent answer.

Another loud grumbling sound emerges from the dragons' throats, and they shuffle out of the way of their cavern's opening, allowing entry. Iris gasps and squeaks, "They say you can hang out for a little while! Isn't that great?" and I shrug because I have no idea how great that is.

"Are they having me for dinner," I add under my breath, to which Iris shakes her head and replies, "No, they didn't prepare enough meat to have someone join us tonight. Sorry."

Well.

Well that's better than what I was thinking. At least I'm not the meat.

Ducking my head and refusing to meet their eyes, I let my chestnut hair obscure my face and Iris take the lead. We stumble through the semi-darkness of her cold, gray home, turning left at the first fork in the tunnel, entering a small enclosed chamber. A little skylight, shaped like a crescent moon, allows light to filter in. It's too small for anyone to fall through, though I imagine more than one nary person's foot has tripped upon the hole.

Then I let my eyes settle on her room. She's got a pair of blankets arranged like a dragon's freaking nest in one corner, a couple small posters affixed to the walls with careful precision and sticks, a few stuffed pokemon littering the floor.

"It's nice," I murmur, because I also recognize that this is her home.

Iris snorts.

I glance over to her, the confusion rampant on my face.

"You thought I lived here?" she asks, breaking into a bout of laughter.

I sputter to a start. "But your parents—"

"Yeah, they helped raise me, but I have a real room back in the village. It's a loooong story." She jumps into her blanket pile, then pats the spot beside her. I gingerly situate myself by her side, enjoying the gnarly sensation of every last rock under my butt.

We're alone now. I sense the dragon footsteps lumbering back into their home, one of them glancing at us through the shadows with those sharp starlight eyes, then passing and leaving us to ourselves.

Slowly my hand sneaks over to Iris's side. She doesn't move, but her eyes fall to it, watching my fingers hesitate a breadth above her thigh. To her nigh-imperceptible nod, I let it rest, and she releases a sharp breath.

"You're pretty, Iris," I whisper, and she breathes with a sudden ravenous desire for air.

Her eyes dart to mine, and she stares deep into me, drinking from my image.

She's smaller than she looks, sinking into her pink-and-yellow dress. Her hair's massive and soft and altogether adds a height to her that isn't really there. I feel it beneath my palm, the smallness of her form. My heart slams against my chest, driving me to come nearer, to smother her in my—

But no. Oh my gosh, no. She would probably die if I went as fast as my body's begging me to. Just look at her, look at her gentle, oval face. Look at her wide eyes, full of my visage.

I don't want to scare her.

I also don't know what I'm doing, so, uh, kind of don't want to ruin things as soon as they began.

Iris takes a long breath, breaking our heated silence. "Marlun?"

The way her high-pitched tone curls around my name makes me scoot a little closer to her, my free hand resting just beside her.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Marlun..." Her voice is low, humming with my presence. "I've never gotten to explain myself to anybody... let alone my girlfriend." She flinches and blushes as the words come out, and I wait, letting her grow comfortable enough to speak again. "Can I... Can I please tell you about myself? I never get to... share myself with other people."

I sputter—"S-S-Sure! Of course!" Dude, anything for her. She's so freaking cute, my heart wants to explode.

Besides, I have no need to talk about myself. The sweatshirt says it all.

Swallowing, I settle in beside her, watching her fold and then unfold her hands, wringing them out and letting them land on her lap, only to rub against my own well-placed hand. Her eyes shoot wide open and she yanks her fingers away, then pauses when the realization hits her in the face.

A reluctant little hand overlaps my own. She lets it stay there, then releases a low breath. Her free hand flecks to her face, where it combs back a fat purple curl of hair.

"So?" I start, as she stays quiet, lying within her own shadow.

"Oh. Um..." There's a hesitant laugh edging out of her mouth, broken off by her own trepidation. "I'm not sure where to start. I've, um. I don't get much of a chance for things such as this."

I awkwardly raise a hand and gesture her on. She shakes herself, mutters a little "I can do this," then straights up and stabs her eyes into me. They cling desperately to the sight of me, utilizing me either as a pincushion or a point of reference.

"So um. So." Her voice cracks. We laugh in this quiet, muted hush. "I grew up with dragons. Sort of. Half dragons, half Bermuda Village." Her eyes flutter, wide with the presence of my self. "You know, they always told me not to let travelers wander here. Not to let them near me."

Breaking in, I try to fit what few pieces I've got into the bigger picture of her memories. "Is that why your parents were so upset with my... uh, being here?"

"Y-Yeah." A thunderous snarl overcomes her face, lowering her brow, smearing her mouth. "But I've always been the only kid here. People always looking down on me, always telling me to sit still, not to get my nose into their business..." That snarl shreds her mouth wide open, baring her surprisingly sharp teeth. "It was lonely.

"I always liked my parents—my dragon parents, I mean. I never knew my real parents... whoever they are. Hah, I only know they exist because I do." She giggles weakly, forcefully shaking her head. "It seems like I've lived my whole life here, though that can't possibly be true..."

Gently I rest my hand to her side, tucking myself against her smaller form. When she doesn't move, doesn't push me back, I let the hand on her thigh pull away and tug her into an embrace. "That does sound really lonely," I murmur into her soft hair. "I used to make fun of Fillmy—that's my best friend, the girl you saw earlier—since she and I were the only people our age in our village, but at least we had each other." Even if she was a terrible kisser and did not learn with practice, nor would she allow constructive criticism.

Gosh. The relief pushes me in the chest, encouraging me to sink into my cute new girlfriend whose lack of moody tendencies is already saving me my precious peace of mind.

"At least you had each other," murmurs Iris. She pauses, choking on a laugh. "Your friend—Filloma, was it—she was weird."

"Yeah." I cackle. "She's a total weirdo. Sorry if she put you off. She needs therapy or something." Hooooo boy, and she needs lots of it. Like maybe twice a week instead of once a week. Then again, knowing her, she'd end up convincing herself that her therapist was plotting against her to ruin her life, so the therapy would only make her worse.

She needs someone who can put up with her.

That guy, N, flashes through my mind like a blinding comet, and I collapse into Iris, cackling away.

Oh, gosh, they're both so weird. And they have green hair, so basically their match was made in heaven.

Imagine having a boy—whose weird-colored hair perfectly matched your own—spend years or whatever searching for you. I swallow, considering it. Sounds like a shady business.

Fillmy.

It hits me, cold in my chest.

She's alone with that guy right now.

Did I not just call her my best friend?

Shaking myself, I scoot a little back from Iris just as my phone begins buzzing away in my pocket. Hurriedly I pull it out, checking the text I'd received from none other than Fillmy's adoptive mother.

How was your day? How's Filloma doing? Is she any better?

I open and shut my mouth when I recognize the fact that I don't even know where she is.

Iris peeks around me, glancing into my phone, already the perfect nosy girlfriend, and I let out a long winded sigh. "I'm sorry Iris, but I think I need to go. My, um, my best friend and I were supposed to stick together, but it seems I've already broken that rule. She doesn't even have a way of contacting me, so she..." It dawns on me in dizzying suddenness. "So she could... kind of be anywhere by now..."

I-I mean, she has legs after all...

Standing abruptly, tripping over Iris's blankets, I rush for the entrance of her cavern, sensing her footsteps pelting after me and choking up with the surge of gracious wonder that overcomes my cold, numb heart.

Filloma

N resides by my side, the elgyem in front of us, and the barrier sparkling in front of him. The barrier remains a dare, a jab at the Galactic dukes who stand in symmetrical robes and hooded faces. They clutch at air, most of them having given up the life of a pokemon trainer when their beloved leader Ghetsis convinced them of the sins they had inflicted upon the world.

But I know not to waver.

I have seen the sorts of monstrous creations that have crawled out of Ghetsis's nasty, pasty outstretched hands. A lack of pokemon did not equate to a total safety.

Asha's outside. I can't hear her voice. My heart shudders. She's—She's hurt, she must be.

While the Dukedom considers their options, gazing past the barrier and into their prey's unfortunately trapped position, I sense our surroundings. The trees from outside tickle at the touch of my halfhearted prowess, twisting one way or another, not quite the direction I implore. The grass shudders, lengthening, shooting up by my command, but nowhere near long or fast enough to overcome the walls separating us from the outside.

The wood that makes up this house is dead, silent, devoid of life.

Furling my fists, I come to the conclusion that I am unable to make a difference.

The elgyem, then. Tentatively I pluck his poke ball from the ground and ask him, What sort of powers do you have vested in you?

He pauses. Well, I can do this. His multicolored fingers hover in front of him, and he summons a second barrier.

Anything else?

His green brow furrows. What else would I need?

Oh, great. The walls are closing in on us. My feet—They're threatening to collapse beneath me. I latch onto the bed tucked into the edge of the room and flump into it, throwing my head into my shaking, shivering hands.

We're surrounded and without a single useful option.

"Filloma."

N's voice pierces my sorrows, an acuate clarity.

"Filloma." He's in front of me, his hands over mine. "Filloma, let down your walls."

I throw my head up, my hair splintering out of my face. "What are you talking about?" I whisper, a hiss.

"These are my people," he whispers, his voice ever softer, ever lower, as if to complement my shriek. "We will be safe if we let down the elgyem's walls."

"N-N-No we won't," I tell him, yanking my hands away. "We need out of here. We need to escape." Maybe Asha's circled around the premises—maybe she's right behind us, scratching at one of the windows. Frantically I turn to look, but there's no black-furred form to greet and ease my weary eyes.

Swallowing, staring up at his vacant expression, I reiterate. "We will not be safe if we go with them."

N gazes after me, his face a breathless vortex of unbelief. "Filloma, these are my dukes, my followers. There is no... them. Merely us."

"What are you talking about," I wheeze, my body shuddering.

Of course. He's with them. He's always been with them. I was an idiot to think I could ward him away, somehow gain his confidence, learn of Plasma's plans, set them ablaze... somehow.

Pushing past him, I force myself off the bed and sidestep the body of the duke we had captured. Hurry, hurry, I command myself, to the back of the house, the window, where I find myself unable to break the glass and manage to implore a nearby tree to fall.

I don't know how I do it. It must be the fear, the rank scent of fear roiling off of me in undulating waves. Fear begets adrenaline, begets strength.

Glass shatters, cutting through my skin, tearing my face open into crisscrossed lines of burning, blistering red. I leap through the hole created by the tree and thank it hurriedly, as I gently push it back into place as it desires and fight out of the house—

Only to meet a wall of robed figures.

The tears puncture my eyes as the coldness consumes my heart.

I throw myself into their ranks, fighting for a slip between them, but soon hands are swallowing up my figure and taking me away, my wrestling not even denting their immaculate ranks. The trees I command do not fall, out of fear of hurting me, and the Dukes' feet suffocates the grass below us.

I let my head fall back and watch the world fly dizzyingly by.

I'm bleeding, staining my white dress with crimson teardrops.

Maybe I'll just die before they can take me.