The Friendly Battle & Other Pokemon One-Shots

To Paint the Lily

Wrote this as part of the Zoroark Games over on Ao3, posting over here now that it's over and we've been revealed.

"Lysandre is just, like... It's about beauty. It's all about beauty. Beauty is what justifies the world."

Amaro nods, lifting his coffee for another sip.

Dorian waves his hand at the city beyond the cafe, then pulls back to gesture at the two of them, sitting on either side of the table with their perfectly made drinks between them. There's a marvelous creamy talonflame wobbling on the surface of Amaro's cup. And above it, Amaro himself: perfectly tailored suit, perfectly painted face. "If this was a painting," Dorian says, "then the beauty of this moment would last forever. But things are always changing. Falling short. Do you know, I just read today that Diantha gained another pound? It's disgusting. It's a crime. She was so beautiful. A walking work of art. And we'll always have the beauty of her movies but she's let herself go. She's letting her beauty go and it's like watching moths eat their way through a wardrobe right before your eyes."

You're so right, Amaro says. "Me," I would never let that happen. It's criminal, how so many people don't care. Not like you and, "Me."

"It's criminal," Dorian agrees. "There's so many people who add nothing to the world. Who drag it down, even! And here's someone who was different, who made the world better, and she's just...becoming another mark against it. Lysandre spoke to her in this very cafe about how she didn't have to let this happen. She didn't have to let herself go. And she didn't even listen! If the world isn't beautiful, what's the point of the world? So if something is dragging that down, it's a crime." It's also a crime that it's taken this long for Dorian to meet Amaro. This is exactly what Lysandre means when he talks about there being too many people. There shouldn't be crowds of ugly people who just get in the way of you finding the people who matter for the world.

Amaro agrees. He's happy to leave the cafe, for all it's lovely, and with it leave the press of the unworthy masses behind to see Dorian's flawless apartment.

And to see Dorian, who, not to be arrogant, knows he's certainly as justified a part of the world as Amaro.

His thumb brushes over Amaro's cheek under his warm brown eye.

And Amaro's eye smudges.

His eye smudges.

Because what Dorian was staring into was a drawing of an eye on closed lids.

And he realizes the skin under his hand is cold. Has been every time they touched, fingers staying cool as they twined together on the walk to his apartment.

You shouldn't touch art, Amaro chides.

And although Amaro had lifted and set down his coffee cup again and again as they talked, when they left the table at the cafe he realizes he could still see the intricately feathered talonflame design on the surface of the latte.

Well, all art is transitory, sad as it is. Some is just more fleeting than others.

Dark shadows are unrolling across the floor, oozing out from under Amaro's perfect, perfect suit.

I hope you'll last a long time for, "Me." Amaro leans in. "Kyu~"

. ⭕ .

Sometimes, you have to do things for the cause. Right now, for reasons beyond Cleo's understanding, the cause required them to take their glorious selves into crude underground tunnels and stand around in raw, moist dirt. The reminder such ugly things existed in the current world made Cleo all the more willing to do whatever it took to help Lysandre bring about a better one, but it also made her wish she was elsewhere doing something more pleasant. "How'd the date go, Dorian?"

Eh, we talked but we just didn't quite click, you know?

"Shame."

Well, Dorian says with a flippant wave, it's no great loss. I'm a bit out of his league, you know? He strikes a quick pose that, admittedly, is one hell of an argument. A ten can't slum it with a nine...and he was more of an eight. Not Team Flare material.

But, "Seriously?" Cleo says, because Dorian had showed her the guy's picture. "Your standards, man..."

There's nothing wrong with, "Me," having good taste.

. .