her stress had been immeasurable. bo hadn't - couldn't - share with her all the details. and lance was far too swamped to do more than answer her texts every couple of days. so she stayed glued to the couch beside eleanor. she sent adelaide home so she could be with her family - she had a daughter in a branch of the league stationed near mt. pyre. 

roman, for once, did as he was told and helped her tend to the farm. they listened to the radio she hooked up outside while they did the bare minimum to keep everything running smoothly - plants watered, clients' pokemon tended to, livestock fed, honey harvested. 

the shop stayed closed the day the meteor meant to hit. and those lonely hours were the longest of her life. and the rest of it was a dream. 

she shifts gears and shakes her head, not realizing she'd zoned back out on her way to go get ollie. she pulls over and fishes out her phone, brows furrowing at the near-indecipherable text from ollie. 

grace's car idles in the street. the windshield wipers fling water to the side and willow looks for a familiar face. when she spots him further down the road, she shifts the car back into gear and ambles over. 

at first, she doesn't intend on parking and getting out, but when she sees the sling and the boot, she frowns. and she steps out of the idling car, leaving the door open, and hurries over to ollie.

"i - ollie...they released you? you can barely stand straight!" but there's no sense making him stand in the rain so she opens up the passenger side door and taps her foot hotly.

ollie morales

☉

"they really are," she agrees. even in the face of the impossible size and anger that had radiated off the queen she and Greyson Connors had fought together, she still has a healthy and unshakeable respect for them. the ones on her farm are docile, but they're so interesting. she could probably babble on for hours about their communication methods alone. 

her brows dip, though, when he urges her not to worry. when he says fun, she can't help but think about the state she'd found him in when retrieving him from the hospital. how she hadn't slept well that night because ollie in that bad shape made it real for her: bo and lance did dangerous work. 

she sucks in a breath and wills herself to think more positively. they're here and they're dancing and they're talking and it feels almost like old times again. her hand in his and nothing but laughter between them.

"yeah," she says softly, very suddenly acutely aware of where her hands are. where his are. her grip tightens. she opts to ignore it. stop overthinking things. 

"i'm glad you're back. i missed you, dummy. but you know that." they texted enough during his time in kalos. especially after bo came back into her life. gods, she owed ollie so much.

ollie morales

☉

expecting the hurt doesn't make it sting any less. it helps that he has a mask on - if she'd had to bear witness his entire expression upon the news, the water in her eyes may have spilled over. but she blinks it away, stumbling over his feet because he suddenly stops. her fingers tighten reflexively and she gets closer than she means to. 

her neck grows hot. "i know you would have," she says, "but i didn't want that for you."

they find their groove again, all too quickly, and her shoulders start to relax. she gives them some room, but stays just a little closer than before, sighing into his familiarity. 

"legendaries?" she repeats, awestruck. "man, and here i was thinking i was cool for wrangling some big vespiquen." granted they had been 'infected' by what Greyson Connors called 'primal crystals' so it's not that laughable. 

"i worry about you, you know. you and bo. and lance. ranger work just seems so...scary."

ollie morales

☉

it's been long enough that the pang isn't as painful, but she's faced with the consequence of never having told him. several years ago, she had stood with her head in her hands, looking past her fingers at a small list of names. ollie's had been decisively crossed through.

no reason to make him leave kalos to attend a funeral. 

"dad passed, actually," she says somberly. it's most certainly not a topic for dancing conversation, so she moves to brighter things. "mom's doing fine, though. forgets things sometimes, but she's healthy as an ox. and roman's roman. growing up. it's wild to watch."

her smile dimples. "i still have that vase, by the way.

"how's hoenn? being back and all? y'know, now that the world isn't about to end."

ollie morales

☉

his cheeriness is infectious, like always, and she feels the last of her worries melt away. her chin tilts up and she finally looks, really looks into his eyes, heart swelling when she finds that same mirth swimming in the green eyes behind his stantler mask. it makes all the rest of it easy.

"it's a shame," she says with a laugh, drawing away from him to twirl. her dress lifts slightly and she breathes in shortly, feeling a rush of warmth bubble up in her. it comes out as a giggle as she clasps his side again; she squeezes again. 

her own greens are playful when she finishes with, "i miss ollie with his two left feet." and then, wrapped in nostalgia: "remember when we knocked into the vase? dad was so mad, but mom couldn't stop laughing at us while we floundered." 

ollie morales

☉

he surprises her and her cheeks warm and she doesn't know what to say because she's sure she'll stutter out something she'll regret. her hand goes to the hair tucked behind her ear and the dirty blonde locks fall over her shoulder - a nervous motion habit she doesn't realize she's doing. 

somewhere, elsewhere, her mind's eye is sweeping over the bloodshed and the bruises and all of the terrible things that bo has done. it is a shuddering, shaking thing, but it is so distant. compartmentalized and tucked neatly under the wrong. 

it makes forgiveness plausible. possible. 

"you think i would do that? i told you i'm not going to lose you again." she swallows. "i don't think i could handle that." her gaze drops. she picks at a fray in her jeans. 

"i know it hasn't been easy. none of this has been easy, but i'm so happy you're here. that you're in my - our - lives. so i'll take it, baggage and all, okay?"

boruta maher

☉

no, they really don't do this. she can think of a million and one other things she'd rather be doing than dancing under the watchful eye of dozens of other people. the mask helps - the earthy, floral scent that comes off of it makes her feel somewhat at home. and ollie's arms around her, close like they hadn't been in a number of years but familiar all the same, help her forget about everyone else. 

their height difference is laughable, but she's used to being dwarfed by everyone she knows. her chunky block heels are only a couple of inches tall - old fashioned, as they're eleanor's, and they're the tallest she could manage without stumbling. 

"you know, i think you're right," she says with a laugh. and she'd hardly seen ollie out of his ranger uniform. 

her dance moves, however, are fluid and elegant. she'd grown up dancing with her mother and father in the kitchen, listening to the static crackling on his old radio. dishes after dinner had taken hours, but none of them minded.

she takes the lead, compensating for his ankle, and rotates in a manner to help him take the weight off of it. "you look better since i last saw you," she says dryly. 

ollie morales

☉

her smile wanes when she sees lance sidle up to bo, drink in hand. bo's decent at hiding his emotions, but she knows him well enough to recognize the slight tug to his shoulders, the stiffness in his posture. she starts to walk over, but startles when something sparks against her cheek. 

she jumps and raises a hand against soft fur. tofu leans into her hand like the ham he is and willow turns back around, knowing his trainer can't be far behind. she smiles sheepishly at his praise and fists the bottom of her dress, feeling a bit naked without her well-worn jeans and flannel. 

"thanks. i feel weird."

she hesitates at the question and then thinks why not? not that she's running away from confrontation, from the physical manifestation of feelings she's refused to put into words.

"i'd love to, ols." she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze."but no making fun. i'm a bit out of practice."

boruta maher LANCE VOLLANS ollie morales
dress

☉

she's nervous, to say the least. this will be the first real thing she does with lance in public. this will be the first time they won't be passersby to strangers. her hair is freshly washed and smells faintly of roses. she has the lightest smidge of makeup on - an accidental smoky eye that makes her blue-green eyes look wide and startled. but the botch job is, thankfully, hidden behind her mask. 

more than fretting about being on lance's arm in public (this is still new to her, okay?), she'd worked tirelessly over the past week drying and preserving and gluing and painting and everything else under the sun to make this ridiculous mask happen.

handwoven rose and yellow acacia flowers fringe the brows; globe amaranth nestled within a hill of amaryllis and windflower anemone; anthemis looking like daisies, springing from the tiny garden home pinned delicately to plaster. 

and on her other cheek, a careful cutting of arborvitae, the same she'd dare wear tucked behind her ears upon one of bo's visits. the flowers hold fast even when she gives it a shake. 

after telling lance she'd be working late at the farm, that she wouldn't want to hold him up, they'd agreed it best to simply meet at the masquerade. and she's teasingly told him he'd never be able to pick her out of her disguise. 

so when she comes out of the bathroom with the mask fitted neatly over her face, she sighs and looks for familiar faces. 

Elisabeth Fiorelli is talking with someone she doesn't recognize and ollie morales is laughing with a few others. she'd know the two of them anywhere. and then a third shape, holding a cup of bergamot tea, tall and broad, makes her smile. her gaze lingers and then continues on, searching for her date. 

LANCE VOLLANS ollie morales boruta maher Elisabeth Fiorelli

☉

"i'd have to ask lou if he's okay with a roommate, but he's a very moody horse," she says with a glimmer of her old self. she wants absolutely nothing more than to throw her arms around him, to break down and admit that she's scared - that she's still fucking terrified - but the wall between them is thick. and it feels as though that gap is getting wider between them every day. 

regret is a heavy, bitter taste in the back of her throat, wrapped in mirror coated anxieties and irrationalities. hard to decipher, harder still to swallow. 

"we can tell him your water heater sprung a leak or something. gotta replace your floors. can't make it too interesting or he'll want to come see it."

she sucks in a breath.

boruta maher

☉

embarrassed? no, she's certifiably mortified when lance shows her up with ease. the smile on her face suddenly becomes hard to maintain and she doesn't know why, just that she's looking at him sideways and thinking thoughts as quickly as she's shoving them in a bottle and casting them out to another sea's shore. 

where another woman will come upon them, will read them quickly, and quick still think: what the hell was she thinking? 

"right, right," she says nonchalantly and rolls her eyes, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to get them to relax. "ranger comradery and all that. well, now i know who's going to decorate my shed with a bunch of new plushies." 

the feelings pass. her smile quirks. she even dares peck him on the cheek.

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

she'd heard of the oncoming swarm and had geared up as quickly as she could, leaving ophelia in charge of the shop for the time being. with adelaide promising to look after roman for the couple hours she'd be gone, she'd felt good about taking her mudsdale up to fortree to see the swarm for herself. 

her pulse has quickened and there's a nervousness weighing on her shoulders, on her forced smile. since her sparring sessions with boruta maher , she hasn't really done anything like this. 

but surrounded by trainers that are battling and attempting capture attempts on hoenn's newest species of pokemon, she finds herself feeling confident - if a little out of her depth. 

the mudsdale's nostrils flare as she dismounts. she breathes in alongside him, pleasantly surprised at the aroma of olive oil stretching across the tree-fringed clearing.

after a few commands issues to lou, and a somewhat lackluster battle against a wild smoliv, she throws a pokeball.

SWARM

jQcxZzoN

☉