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Jacinthe looked at Lebanne with what anyone else might have described as an ‘intimidating’ expression. Lebanne, of course, was more than used to such a thing. Suppose ‘intimidating’ wasn’t quite the word for it – ‘presumptive’, perhaps, might have fit better, or even 'auspicious'. But no, even that failed to encapsulate the sheer certainty of action that accompanied said expressions; actions that would seldom be in Lebanne’s favour.
Jacinthe looked at Lebanne with a promising expression – a decisive expression? Or instead: Jacinthe’s looking at Lebanne was like a Hatterene using Future Sight, pretty and devastating, all in one.
(Lebanne didn’t know which part she meant more – the pretty or the devastating. They, too, were one in the same. They were for Jacinthe, anyway.)
Such expressions accompanied actions, as she said, and this time it accompanied a ‘come-hither’ wave of Jacinthe’s glove towards seats so cloaked in fabric it was hard to discern them as anything but abstract shapes.
Lebanne sat. Such actions were not solely Jacinthe’s own, after all. Usually, they were anything but. Most often, they were Lebanne’s. That was how things went, as Jacinthe’s – maid. Battle partner. Confidant. Something more still?
It was foolish, surely, certainly, to be thinking things like this. But Lebanne couldn’t help it. If nothing else, it was her job to be by her lady’s side, in any and all ways. Naturally that afforded Lebanne a degree of introspection – of herself, of Jacinthe, of their relationship together. To say things had changed since their initial meeting would be an understatement. Lebanne (unruly, stubborn to a fault) was more akin to a disobedient Pokémon. And Jacinthe (cold, yet so overbearing) made for a fickle mistress. Together – well, there was no such thing. Not then.
But if Lebanne was a cliff face, all sharp edges and teeth, Jacinthe was the sea: capricious, yes, but even in her calmness did she wear away at Lebanne, and through nothing except the sheer virtue of time – and herself. Softening her, smoothening her, to the point Lebanne was unrecognisable to any who had known her before. Neither better nor worse; merely changed, and changing still. Jacinthe’s waves hitting her harder, deeper, into her very cœur, until all that remained were caverns that called out her name and drowned in the high tide.
And just like how chips of rock would enter the sea after harsh tides, Lebanne could only hope that she had changed Jacinthe too, just as she her. Bits of street slang Jacinthe could have only gotten (accidentally) from Lebanne, overheard during meetings with the mayor; opting to take out her own Pokémon alongside her opponent’s, in the name of a smoother battle. It was little things like this that fed into Lebanne’s delusions – for what else were they, but delusions? Lebanne would lie in bed, the comfiest she’d ever known besides Jacinthe’s own (she had had a nightmare one time, apparently, and so insisted). She would lie, and wonder if Jacinthe was doing the exact same thing as her. Thinking. Requiting.
“Lebanne.” Staring at her, through the walls even – those violet, sparkling eyes. Her own (grey, stone-like) staring right back.
“Yes, Lady Jacinthe?”
"It has been over a year since we first found each other, has it not? I must say, you have grown into a fine trainer."
It wasn’t rare for Jacinthe to compliment her like this, even out of the blue. Lebanne could have sworn she heard ‘ma chérie’ more than her actual name. If it wasn’t ‘ma chérie’ it was ‘mon chou’, and if it wasn’t either of those it was – something she daren’t repeat herself, though it was by far her favourite. All accompanied by that same, fond smile; it was all Lebanne could do to blush. The novelty of being praised, least of all by such a debonair woman, had yet to wear off on her. It proved both a blessing and a curse.
Jacinthe was tilting her head at her, with one pale eyebrow threatening to lift – of course, Lebanne had forgotten to respond appropriately in turn.
“Thank you, my lady,” she bowed, dipping her head low enough so as to see each and every ruffle in her bloomers.
Jacinthe nodded. Gratitude (plus some mild grovelling) in hand, she continued. “A most magnificent trainer, oui. One I would deem more than worthy of fighting by my side. One I would be more than proud to call... my partner.”
‘Partner’. The way Jacinthe said it – the softness in her voice, the way her tongue curled around the ‘r’. Was she – was she fucking saying what Lebanne thought she was saying?
“And I cannot wait to see how you shall continue to grow. Or rather, how we shall continue to grow together.”
This was it. What Lebanne had been hoping – no, waiting for.
“We have known each other for long enough, n’est-ce pas? And I, at least, certainly know you well enough. Inside and out, truly.”
All the toil of the past year – the late nights, the earlier mornings, the indistinctiveness surrounding everything to say nothing of Jacinthe’s heavy touch – vindicated at last.
“It is for that reason that I…”
Yes…
“Am offering you a gift…”
Strange wording, but still yes…
“Not only as a token of our relationship now, but of what is yet to come…”
Yes, totally, I couldn’t agree more, our love ever-lasting, now just please-
“I hereby give thee…”
-please, get on with it? I hereby give thee what – my heart, my undying devotion, my hand in marriage? Okay, maybe that last one was reaching a little, but Lebanne had been with Jacinthe long enough to know she could never really discount anything with that woman. Whatever it was, whatever degree of extremity, Lebanne wanted it. Wanted it now. Sure, it might have been her job to be a lady-in-waiting, but hadn’t she been waiting long enough?
“A Key Stone!”
A round object was pressed into Lebanne’s hand. Their hands were touching, certainly (on paper, anyway; Jacinthe always wore gloves). And Jacinthe’s hand was small, so small, sitting in Lebanne’s own – if Lebanne was to close hers, it would have swallowed Jacinthe’s whole. It was this Lebanne was thinking of, more than the rock sitting in her hand.
However the stone soon grew cold – and reality with it. Jacinthe had called them ‘partners’, yes, but she had only meant it so far as battling went. Of course she had. Why had Lebanne expected anything more? Their relationship was something purely professional. Who did she think she was kidding? Of course it was. Of fucking course-
Jacinthe’s hand retracted, and any residual warmth it had brought disappeared in an instant. The stone sat, heavy and cold, in Lebanne’s palm.
“Mon chou?” Jacinthe was still smiling, but it was tighter now. Like a string pulled taut, holding back something great and terrible and trying to signal that the best it could. Jacinthe’s lips quivered like a threat. “If I did not know you any better, Lebanne, I might have said you looked disappointed.”
Jacinthe's reaction was rational, precisely because Lebanne's was not. A Key Stone only made sense. It was a gift for Pokémon battles, after all, and battling was why they met, and how they met, and why they were still together even now. It defined their relationship. Perhaps it was all there was.
The mornings where they’d converse over croissants and coffee, the afternoons where they’d banter between corridors, the evenings where they both ought to have retired to their individual quarters, but instead came up with all matter of excuses to delay – plain fodder, just killing time until the next bout. Decorative. Wasteful.
And it wasn’t as if Lebanne disliked battling – quite the opposite. Nothing quite beat the satisfaction that came with dealing a super-effective move against an opponent, through winning in one fell swoop. Nothing, except maybe the rush that came with discarding strategy altogether, and coming out on top through nothing but sheer and superior might. And yet, her mind was drawn most to the fights she couldn’t win. Those fights against Jacinthe, where defeating one Pokémon, landing one move, gaining one foothold, if only for one second – felt like everything. But it wasn’t everything, Lebanne knew. Or at least, she thought she knew. Jacinthe seemed to feel a different way.
“N-not at all!” Lebanne attempted to save face. “It’s just-”
“Just what? Speak, zut alors.”
She was mad, then, fucking damn it. Damn it all. Lebanne hung her head, partly out of guilt, partly to avoid further eye-contact. “It was just – not what I was expecting, is all. Lady Jacinthe.”
“Not what you expected?” Lebanne, despite herself, stole a glance upwards, and was surprised to find Jacinthe looking sad, rather than angry. Like a fire blown out, rather than one set ablaze. “Why, I considered it to be the natural conclusion of my speech. It would seem, then, that we are not on the same page, after all. That our relationship, in fact, has a way to go still.”
You’re telling me, Lebanne almost wanted to say. Instead, she stayed silent, ashamed of herself – for upsetting Jacinthe, for being out of sync, for so much as thinking that Jacinthe could ever love her back.
“We shall resume training for Double Battles tomorrow, then. Hopefully Mega Evolution shall be the key to increasing our synergy, and achieving victories in tournaments to come.”
"Certainly, Lady Jacinthe," Lebanne nodded severely. Her nails were starting to make tiny dents in her thighs. "I cannot thank you enough - I can only imagine the labours such a gift cost you. However, I should say, in order to use Mega Evolution to its fullest, I need not only a-"
“Oui, you are right.” Jacinthe could read her feelings so clearly, so easily – why couldn’t Lebanne do the same? Suppose it was in both their natures: while the sea could breach the cliff, forage caves and rock-pools, it was all the cliff could do to stand there and take it.
"Quite right," she repeated. "So not only have I brought you this Key Stone-"
Jacinthe's hand reached into her breast pocket, the left one, and withdrew a darker, smaller stone. Its colours were tenderly familiar.
"But I have also brought you something for your dear Partner Pokémon, Dragalge. May these take you to greater heights, Lebanne – and may I bare witness to it by your side."
Despite its size, Lebanne accepted this stone far more graciously than the first. She stared at it in awe. A Key Stone was already something out of reach for most trainers, even those under the tutelage of the SBC. A custom Mega Stone, commissioned from none other than Quasartcio – that was something beyond most trainer's dreams. Even for Jacinthe, whose threats to buy out the entirety of Lumiose held real water, it must have been no small undertaking. And yet here they both were, sitting in Lebanne's own palm.
There had been no anniversaries, no recent victories or achievements or anything else to warrant such a thing. There was only this: a small, tucked-away room and a smaller, yet even more tucked-away smile on Jacinthe’s face. Somehow, it had been the most genuine one Lebanne had ever seen on her. Earnest. Loving?
Maybe Jacinthe really did return her feelings. But it was better this way, Lebanne realised. Should either of them have proposed, and should either of them have accepted, it would have ruined things totally. Suppose the time came (surely, certainly) that Lebanne beat Jacinthe in a Pokémon battle. Even if Jacinthe was willing to celebrate their becoming true equals, Lebanne would constantly be fretting, doubting; wondering if Jacinthe had gone easy on her. It would be a stain upon her back, one she could never remove and itched without end. Lebanne would rather take whatever-the-hell their relationship was now than be sullied by a love unearned.
In her hand, the Dragalgite circled the Key Stone in her , not unlike a planet orbiting its star. Jacinthe hadn’t opened the door for her (how could she?), but she had given her the key. Lebanne could only imagine how much stronger Dragalge would get, how much stronger its Sludge Bombs would hit – one of their few ripostes against Jacinthe’s Fairy types. How much stronger Lebanne would get, too, with Mega Evolution now hers to wield.
Jacinthe looked at Lebanne with a determined expression. Lebanne returned it, with just as much determination. No more than that – Lebanne hadn’t bested her yet. But she would.