So I ended up deviating completely from my original word prompt for this piece. Also, it's more Maylene-centric than Maylene-and-Dawn-friendship-oriented.
Enjoy!
Her gym looks smaller now, in ways Maylene can't quite pinpoint: the building seems quaint, and the air itself is permeated with bittersweet nostalgia – for what and why, she doesn't know. The fact that she can't quite grasp what is bothering her bothers her more: she's always been a fan of things graspable, things hitable.
She feels old, but this autumn she is six months shy of her sixteenth birthday.
She feels tall, but it's not that she's grown much, at least not vertically: while hard-won muscles lie in wait beneath her callused skin, she still stands at scarcely a fist's-width over five feet.
When she walks in the gym, her feet whisper across the floor, as though she hasn't a right to walk here, be here, and is afraid of being caught and thrown out (by who?).
And yet –
the vibrancy of the leaves beyond the window seems muted, dulled. The cold doesn't bother her nearly as much as it once did
– yet everything has lessened somehow.
Everything, that is, except for the glows she's noticed on challengers and other Veilstonians over the past few months. Those remain worryingly bright, made more troubling because no one else seems to see them.
Lucario expresses the opinion that she should concentrate on the soon-to-begin battle, not on doomed leaves and glows that likely don't exist. It's odd, this ability to know what Lucario's thinking, feeling. He doesn't quite put his thoughts into words, and neither does she, but over the past three months or so they've understood each other's minds with astonishing (and occasionally irritating) clarity.
Maylene agrees with the sentiment if not his tone, so she rolls her shoulders, shakes her head to clear it of such thoughts.
Across the room, the challenger brings out his Alakazam, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched over. He glows grey tinged with red, though Maylene tries not to notice.
He clears his throat, smiles worriedly: "I, um, challenge you, Maylene of the…"
An awkward pause ensues, then Maylene realizes he's forgotten the city's name in his nervousness. "Oh – Veilstone."
"Right, right." He shifts his feet. "The Veilstone Gym, to a, um, battle."
Lucario glances at her, as though making sure she's paying attention, and she smiles to reassure him, punches her fist into her palm to conjure up some enthusiasm.
"I accept your –"
Loudly, from the gym's side door, comes a knock-knock-knock-knock.
"Just a moment, sorry," Maylene tells the challenger. "Come in!"
Dawn walks gingerly into the room, glowing yellow and pink, and shrugs apologetically. "I didn't mean to interrupt," she says. She nods at the challenger, who is wide-eyed and open-mouthed at her cheerleader getup. "Do you mind if I watch? I'm just cheering on Maylene here."
Suddenly the challenger is all smiles and swagger: "No, I don't mind – Maylene'll need all the cheering she can get. I wouldn't mind some myself, though."
Dawn either doesn't hear him or is choosing to ignore him.
Maylene rolls her eyes, puffs out a breath. Perhaps she doesn't feel old, per se – perhaps everyone around her, namely the challengers, are simply getting more immature. "I accept your challenge."
The battle miraculously results in the personality-swappin' challenger receiving the Cobble badge. As they drop off Maylene's party at the Pokémon center, Dawn blames it on the type advantages of the challenger's team. Maylene blames it on Dawn, only half-jokingly. Lucario blames it on Maylene's thoughts wandering; he's probably right. She doesn't really want to admit it, though, so she concentrates on the feeling of cobbled stones beneath her bare feet and tells him to get well soon.
She and Dawn arrive back at the gym, dealing with the small talk as Maylene prepares the tea as Dawn sets up the knee-high table, turns on the lights.
Wind whistles through the gym, simultaneously molding the steam into new shapes and tearing it apart. For the first time in a long time, she feels its cold fingers, hears its siren song. This wind!: ripping the leaves from the trees, dissipating the steam, stirring up the ground-hugging nostalgia-scent, filling her with a sense of wanderlust or homesickness, both. Will it let nothing just be?
She begins to sigh, but the wind steals it away before it culminates into anything.
So closing the window then is inordinately satisfying, and if Dawn notices the pleasure she takes in this action she says nothing. Wind quelled for the moment, Maylene brings the teacups to the table and sits down, legs crossed.
Maylene curls her hands around the hot porcelain, closes her eyes. Breathes in the flowery scent of chamomile: it almost blocks off other, less welcome smells.
"That was a pretty cool battle," Dawn says, ignoring the bitter tea. She'll drink it later, Maylene knows, cold and sugared. Dawn visits every other month or so, and this custom so far remains unbroken. She glances up at Maylene, and Maylene gets the distinct feeling that Dawn is looking through her. "You and Lucario seemed perfectly in sync."
"He would probably beg to differ," Maylene admits, eyes still closed. She shrugs, sighs unencumbered by greedy zephyrs. The darkness on the inside of her eyelids is safe, predictable, even if she does have a headache. "But thanks."
There is a long silence that Maylene doesn't feel particularly inclined to breaking, then Dawn snaps her fingers in Maylene's face. Her eyes fly open; she jolts, spilling the hot tea on her fingertips, on Dawn's. For a time the air rings with curses, apologies, and the sound of cold water running. Eventually they arrive back at the table.
Dawn squints at Maylene, her elbows resting on the table, her hands steepled. Her glow pulses in time with Maylene's throbbing head. "Are you all right, Maylene? I mean, really okay. You seem…" she rubs her head, managing to both convey confusion and touch up her hair. "You seem kind of…faded."
"I've had a string of losses," Maylene says, which is only a half lie – she's had four in a row, but one of them was an informal battle (even if she did get hit full on by a Flash Cannon) and another a mere sparring session with Lucario. "And having hot tea spilled on your hands is plenty draining."
"I said I was sorry," Dawn mutters into her lap. She glances back up. "You can't let losses get you down, though, Maylene. Trust me, I've done that" – Dawn grimaces – "often, and it only makes you miserable. Just believe in yourself – remember, no need to worry!"
Maylene tries for a grin and stands up. She is always going; and when she arrives at her destination, she always wants to leave it again, unsure of what she is seeking but knowing that it is not here. For now, though, she indulges Dawn: "Right!"
"Wrong!" Dawn snaps. "I know that's not what's bothering you –"
"How?" She's genuinely curious.
Dawn falters, crosses her arms: "I am a poetry aficionada, and I know how to read between the lines. More importantly, I know you – and you don't sound discouraged, you sound – you look – exhausted." She pinches Maylene's arm; she doesn't really feel it, but gives an obligatory 'ow'.
"You're practically sleep-walking," Dawn continues. "You should" – she snaps her fingers, grins – "meditate! We should, I mean. Maybe it'll help you."
"Okay," Maylene says. "Why not?"
Maybe it will help; she isn't sure what she feels, with the inexplicable nostalgia and the ever-shrinking gym, or why. And she has gotten behind in her meditation…
They sit down side by side, Dawn fidgeting as she tries to get comfortable. The wind slaps at the walls but does not enter.
"How do we –"
"Shh," Maylene murmurs, eyes closed. She breathes in, out, contemplates. Sounds vibrate through the wood and up her arms; some seem like footfalls, heavy and fleeting. They are getting closer, or maybe it's the wind, that trickster, hitting at something.
There is a knock on the door, and Maylene reluctantly gets up to answer it. In years to come she will wish she never had, but at the moment she lacks prescience and turns the knob.
A tall man, clad in blue and glowing a purple-tinted teal, stands before her. He bows, shakes her hand, and introduces himself as Riley.
She begins to introduce herself, but he says, "I know your name."
Dawn gets up, frowns. "Hey, I know –"
"Things," he tells Maylene, "are going to be a little bit different from now on, Acolyte Maylene."
"I'm a gym leader," she says automatically, ripping her hand from his and stepping back, falling instantly into a fighter's stance. She realizes that she is very willing to fight this man: for if she's not a gym leader, what is she?
It's probably indicative of some issues that she cannot answer that question.
She wishes she knew the answer. She suspects the answer lies on Riley's tongue, in the nostalgia in the air – nostalgia for a gym she must leave, perhaps? – in the developments of the past three months.
Riley shakes his head as Dawn stares at him; Maylene cracks her knuckles, prepares.
"I am a gym leader," she says, louder now, as though volume and repetition make it true for at least a little while longer.
"Not anymore," he says. "From here on in, you're an Aura Guardian-in-training."
I really love the idea of Maylene as an aura knight, but I have the feeling that she wouldn't love the idea. This one will probably be continued, but not necessarily next chapter.
Reviews are appreciated!