When his fingers entwine with hers, there's a kindness to the gesture he doesn't have to show her. It briefly startles her still and silent; she's never known what to do with tenderness.[break][break]

"Precious little can survive in isolation," she concedes, made solemn by this statement. "But nature shows the tenacity of survival."[break][break]

An endless stream of memories blossoms to waking in the back of her mind, stirred by the touch of loam and soil. Hadn't the earth been her sanctuary, once? Before everything had festered into rot and ruin.[break][break]

She remains hesitant -- afraid if she dares to move, the ground beneath them will blacken and decay in response.[break][break]

When her eyes close, she envisions the beautiful gardens she'd shared with her mother, the Galarian roses forever in bloom. These sun-warmed memories had sustained her in the shrouded courtyard of her late husband's manor; later they'd been enshrined outside a cottage in the Petalburg Woods, teeming with flowers.[break][break]

His voice reminds her where she is.[break][break]

"That's strange," she murmurs, tentatively clinging to this tether of the present. "You wouldn't imagine two opposing elements to align."[break][break]

The vision vanishes with a blink, replaced by the figure of the man before her. Easier to focus on the soil sifting through their fingers, she decides, evading his gaze to look down.[break][break]

When she does, the unmistakable sight of a budding flower blooms up from the dirt where he'd pressed her hand.

[attr="class","ooc"] FERNANDO SILPH[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

"--they find peace in the present?" she concludes, tilting her head at him. The red soil in her hands -- tactile and earthy -- grounds her enough to ignore the warmth of his skin on hers. Mostly. "Whether you find yourself looking up or down, you can stumble if you aren't looking forward."[break][break]

Sometimes she imagines this is why Celebi first came to her, more than anything else. Some part of her remains trapped in that first betrayal at the age of nineteen, unable to leave its frozen terror.[break][break]

Would Pandora even know hope had existed in the box she'd opened, were her eyes focused only on the horrors she'd wrought?[break][break]

The lone flower wavers on its stem, furling closed with blushing shyness.[break][break]

"I've always struggled with that," she admits. "Looking to the future."

[attr="class","ooc"] FERNANDO SILPH[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

The future she wanted?[break][break]

She squints at him, curious at what he imagined such a world to be. She can't picture it, although part of her wonders if she might see some hint of it reflected in his eye. Tapu Fini has not opened her heart enough to know what secret longings hide deep inside of her.[break][break]

Ridiculous, she reminds herself. Tapu Fini can't show him that much of you, not enough to see inside your mind.[break][break]

After all, the future she wants would involve--[break][break]

The sound of a Sygna Stone's cry cuts through the cobalt blue eyes that intrude on her memory, the thought of BARNABY FINCH enough for her to burn with shame. Guilt crashes over her for this small indiscretion against the truer inclinations of her heart, repetitive in its stabs of self-rebuke.[break][break]

Dreams can be dangerous, she knows. They make you forget what the world is like upon waking.[break][break]

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?"[break][break]

Her hand withdraws as she moves to stand, wiping the dust from her skirts.

[attr="class","ooc"] FERNANDO SILPH[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]