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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Sept 24, 2018 8:00:17 GMT

her phone pulses like a ticking time bomb in her hands. the screen, darkened to the lowest brightness, fidgets underneath her neatly trimmed nails. it houses a message: a nostalgic subpoena. she knows it's him. and with her guards ordered back, she scales the lighthouse stairs like a prince on path to slay a dragon.

but her sword is missing. her cape instead an angel's white coat. she's vulnerable. but she always was.

the last few steps are daunting. memories creak from the old staircase, ringing in the out-of-tune notes of an adolescence filled with regrets. the wood stairs remind her of the academy desks. the dusty bookshelves. the offices- and the expulsion.

finally, she summits her history and pockets the phone. tugging a curl of blonde behind her ear, dahlia speaks meekly into the seemingly infinite expanse:

"silas?"

SILAS BLACKWELL

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SILAS

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TWENTY-NINE

rocket boss

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TAG WITH @silas

POSTED ON Sept 24, 2018 9:46:31 GMT

dahlia goode likes this

"dahlia."

human nature is fragile. it doesn't take much to break even the strongest wills. all it takes is a little push. a little memory. for silas, it's of a time he wishes he could change not because he despises it, but because he longs for it.

it's what's keeping from fully accepting his fate; for he is still human.

however, it is important to note that fragility is often accompanied by volatility.

he doesn't smile because he's afraid of what it'll reap. some things are better left untouched, and yet, he's poking at it with a stick, taunting it. "you came alone." it's an observation, but he knows there are more.

the wooden floorboards creak underneath his footsteps. there's nothing in the lighthouse, but its significance is not in its structure or design. they are illuminated by the rays that shine through dust-stained windows. despite its lack of interior decoration, it still feels much like home.

"congratulations on the promotion." he keeps his distance. there's an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him and he's concerned it'll surface once pushed. "do you remember when we came here?"

dahlia goode

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shiv

the good commissioner

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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Sept 25, 2018 6:48:39 GMT

SILAS BLACKWELL likes this

for a ghost's breath, she swears they're somewhere else. back in academy uniforms, all prim and proper. back when the only thing addling her mind was a test she had overprepared for. now, she plays the part of the defuser. but the wires are all red.

his face doesn't seem to have changed. dahlia smiles. lips in pristine reds. hair pulled up neatly and tight. her hands clasp together as if she is trying to hold together a severed world, with the two stranded on either side.

"that i did." she is generous in her presence. she recalls the phantoms of the earlier era. as if nothing has changed.

she doesn't say thanks. instead, her panel of sight slides to a corner, catching dust and textured wood.

dahlia rests on the seat wall that circles a central pillar of support. she quickly takes note of a door to the outside balcony with her peripheral view. she pats an empty space beside her. "i do. it's been so long."

a beat.

"i've missed you."

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SILAS

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TAG WITH @silas

POSTED ON Sept 25, 2018 9:51:58 GMT

dahlia goode likes this

the lighthouse is more than a memory; it stands as a symbol for what he once was. for what he could have been.

she knocks on the wall he's spent years building to protect himself. each knock cracks, and for once, he's scared she'll break through. the first crack comes from her smile. he doesn't respond. the second comes from her gesture to the empty space. he doesn't respond.

the third: her words.

he can't respond.

"stop." there's an imbalance that hangs in the air. like a tree in a violent storm, she's unwilling to yield. she stands her ground. he's not used to that. "that's not why i'm here—i don't need to hear that."

for a moment he wishes things were different. maybe in a different life. but not this one.

"there's a storm coming."

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the good commissioner

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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Sept 29, 2018 3:36:51 GMT

SILAS BLACKWELL likes this

dahlia draws her hand back. the vacuum of space it conjures chills the vacancy with the quiet of rejection. she cradles her hand in her lap, the modest folds of her coat hiding disappointment like a corradini veil. it's sadness she feels. but she isn't shocked by the emotion's resurgence.

"a storm." not a question. just a statement. she's a listener. she lets silas talk to hear his voice: a rare sound stolen away by the abuses of his formative years.

however, duty intervenes the poetic stillness of her lips. tugged to the point of tearing, her heart retreats in favour for obligation.

"and should i be worried?"

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SILAS

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TWENTY-NINE

rocket boss

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @silas

POSTED ON Sept 29, 2018 16:11:42 GMT

she listens: he's not used to this. "yes." once so familiar with each other, they now feel like strangers stood on opposite ends of a spectrum; a spectrum tipped in his favor. her voice disarms him but only for a moment; his defenses weaken, but he won't let her through.

"rocket's in hoenn. we have been for a while now." she's smart. and bright. he knows she knows. her demeanor hasn't changed since they last saw each other, and that worries him.

fingers trace the dust-covered railings he stands next to, hoping to find the right words to say. "what happened in kanto—we'll do the same here. nothing's stopping that." a pause. "nothing's stopping me." a beat.

"not even you."

finally, his gaze falls on her. "you should step away before it's too late."

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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Oct 1, 2018 1:11:53 GMT

SILAS BLACKWELL likes this

she knows. it's been keeping her up at night. it eats away at her sleep like moths, and she hides her dark circles beneath their powders. but it's not the danger that arouses her from slumber. it's the regret. the regret that she did not do enough. that she did not do more. she finds her thoughts circling her in an endless loop, casting blame and pointed fingers at the young girl who was powerless to save him.

she's terrible for having done nothing. at least, she convinces herself of that.

but dahlia hides it well. now, in the public eye, she steels herself much like silas, but how strong can she really be when she's simply covering her tear-logged stalks with metal paints.

"how mean." dahlia stands and takes a step. "calling me all the way here only to push me away."

she's half-joking.

"i don't care about what happened in kanto." dahlia finally frowns, but her features maintain her natural grace. "i care about what happened to you."

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TAG WITH @silas

POSTED ON Oct 2, 2018 16:59:43 GMT

shiv likes this

"i called you here because i wanted you to be safe."

he's not joking.

from the cracks come leaks, and the first slithers its way through. he's surprised it had taken this long. he eyes her warily as she stands, careful to take a step back if she approaches. the darkness helps hide the falter in his expression; how it flickers and mourns for the past.

duty overpowers the past and renders it meaningless. "do you?" it's a question that's been unanswered for years, and no matter how hard he recollects, he doesn't truly know what the answer is. "does it keep you up at night? knowing that you could have helped?"

as guilt once overcame him, he paves the way for silence.

"you could've saved me. but you didn't."

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the good commissioner

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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Oct 8, 2018 0:36:41 GMT

SILAS BLACKWELL likes this

the sentiment of safety falls upon her shoulders like a shawl too smooth, too soft. it slips from her body and pools upon the ground in a ghostly heap; dahlia isn't safe. she's stuck.

trapped.

with him—and her calling. perhaps her reign was doomed from its painless conception.

dahlia lets the silence have its moment. a hand rests on her chest, as if to calm the swelling tide of her transgressions.

"i could have." dahlia said. "but you weren't there."

his words are precise. surgically sharp. dahlia's cheeks warm up, and her vision blurs.

shakily, she asks:

"where did you go?"

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TAG WITH @silas

POSTED ON Oct 9, 2018 11:06:59 GMT

steadily, he responds:

"away from you."

everyone has ghosts that haunt them; silas is no different. his takes the form of a mistake he made years ago; one that he wishes he could change.

if he had just been more careful, maybe rocket wouldn't have found out. maybe father wouldn't have found out. rocket demands all of you: you must live and die for rocket. there can be no doubts. dahlia was his doubt. is his doubt.

"i'll say it again: step away. leave. this is not your fight to lose." the politics of the region aren't unknown to him. he steels himself to look at her. "you didn't save me then—"

"but you can save me now."

dahlia goode

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shiv

the good commissioner

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Oct 13, 2018 21:29:36 GMT

persephone amavi and FERNANDO SILPH like this

dahlia dabs at her eye, plucking a tear before it concedes on to her cheek. it's no sign of weakness.

at least to her.

although she acknowledges the folly of revealing emotion—this is no political realm in which she has to practice the remarkable and unreasonable stoicism her profession demands of her. no. instead, here, on the stage of memory, her emotions reveal the strength of her honesty. she's not here to talk politically. to talk war.

she's here to draw up clear waters. the well of warm memory may be dry—but her tears hold the promise of a future so different than the one he foresees. dahlia commits to a brave advance. she steps forward, bringing herself face-to-face with her scripted nemesis. whether he accepts it or not, she goes for his hands, drawing them together in hers. "save you by leaving?"

she shakes her head, the blonde curl she tried to groom behind her ear falling back to cup her cheek.

"don't be ridiculous!" dahlia begins to cry. "do you know how long i've been waiting? do you know how long i've lost sleep, thinking about you? where you've been? if you're well— or even alive?!" her hands grip whatever they're holding tighter, unwilling to ever let go. "you're so cruel, silas..."

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noodles

SILAS

HE/HIM

TWENTY-NINE

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @silas

POSTED ON Oct 23, 2018 9:42:37 GMT

dahlia goode likes this

she goes for his hands. he doesn't flinch but it's because he feels nothing. her touch doesn't warm, it doesn't soothe, all it does is confirm what he already knows: there's nothing left that connects him to her anymore. the thin thread of memory, of youth, no longer exists because the moment her hands find his, the thread is cut.

her brave advance is for nothing.

"you made me cruel."

bitterness reeks through his voice. he snaps his hands away, clawing free from her grip. the tears, her words, they don't fool him because he doesn't let emotions render his judgement. he knows better.

"cut the shit! you saw the news: you know where i was, what i was forced to become—you saw it and you did nothing." he takes a step backwards, separating. "you fucking did nothing."

dahlia goode

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shiv

the good commissioner

she/her

lilycove city

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league commissioner

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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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TAG WITH @dahlia

POSTED ON Nov 11, 2018 0:25:57 GMT

and yet, his steady voice now ripples with resentment. the sonic betrayal of silas' feelings is all dahlia needs; anger and bitterness is nothing to be scared of. instead, she encourages it, tugging at silas through the blood pulsing in her thumbs, intel gained straight from the heart.

as silas separates from her, dahlia lets him. no resistance. the shared climax of his emotions resonates strong long after his retreat.

in a way, dahlia is the sole player on the field. she stands like a soft spire and clasps her hands together for comfort.

"i made you cruel." she repeats. "and because i did nothing, that means you've become... someone else." dahlia breathes, breast swelling with a reserve of calm. "it must hurt, silas— maybe lonely."

dahlia hopes her guards are far, far away.

"but i did try." dahlia says. "it's just that... you weren't there to see it." a beat. "i'm not asking you to trust me," she plucks a tear, the sadness passing, "but if you ever change your mind, just know that it is not too late."

the sea breeze rises: a tense sense of inevitably shrouding the room.

"i'd run. my guards are probably going to storm in despite my orders." she peers back, the staircase leading to the peak an endless spiral.

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noodles

SILAS

HE/HIM

TWENTY-NINE

rocket boss

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30 height

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park.

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part of

TAG WITH @silas