[attr="class","dahlia"]

[attr="class","icon"]

"hm?"[break][break]

dahlia lifts her head from her propped hand, heavy with academic fatigue. though silas may scowl, little deters the smile that blossoms on dahlia's face.[break][break]

"i don't believe slateport academy has assigned seating, silas." her featherlight hand graces the empty chair seat beside her. "but you're welcome to sit with me."[break][break]

even if he was a sweaty mess.

[break][break]

[attr="class","silassilph blackwell"]




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[attr="class","dahlia"]

[attr="class","icon"]

on magical cue, a sharpened pencil graces the periphery of silas' vision. it is held by the softest pressure. for silas, dahlia's featherlight fingers cradle the graphite wand as its tip wags in the air.[break][break]

"dahlia coming to the rescue again." the future commissioner says. "keep the pencil. i've got plenty."[break][break]

she notices the bobbing knee. the emanating waves of anxiety as if silas were lost at slateport sea. [break][break]

dahlia did not mind being the beacon. the lifeline. but one day, she will, for the future fate of a failing saviour fosters white hairs.

[break][break]

[attr="class","dahliasboybg"]

[attr="class","dahliasboytxt"]

it's a small, inconsequential gesture that any polite person would have made, but for silas, it means far more even if dahlia goode may not be aware of it.

over the course of the next few days, then weeks, then months, all she offers him are small gestures, and each time, he takes them as lifelines, each gesture not nearly strong enough to tear him from habits and thoughts conditioned into him, but slowly, they begin to pull him away.

some time passes.

"you idiot."

he berates, though his tone is far softer than it normally would be with anyone else.

"don't anchor your feet like that. you'll get swept if you do. here,"

he clicks his tongue as he steps closer, reaching out for her with rough, calloused hands to twist her into the ideal position, not realizing the uncomfortable level of intimacy he's placed himself in.

"be light on your feet. when you kick, twist your hip."

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[attr="class","dahlia"]

[attr="class","icon"]

calloused hands are perfect for tickling. her sides spring with laughter, body like a blooming bouquet, silas' fingers the ribbons cinching her close.[break][break]

"i think i'm a lost cause." dahlia sighs. shoulders slump like frowning gladioli flowers. "i've never been a fighter, silas. not even a pokemon battler."[break][break]

nearby, her chikorita rolls lazily across a bench.

[break][break]