For the interior of a building, the first floor is surprisingly moist, almost developing hints of mists in the cooler corners, though it may just be a fluke of the eye. The broad corridor the stairs open into, continuation further up aside, is covered with a fine-meshed carpet of warm hue, vanishing inexplicably into what is unmistakably live, real, thick foliage about halfway down. Glass behind and before him fill the corridor, further lit by the light coming in through transmission and subsurface scattering from the milky wall to his right, seeming to contain more plants, no doubt for research purposes.
The wall to his left seems to have a slight curvature, as if to emphasise the organic nature of this entire floor, sliding doors that could move to cover each other but instead are just ajar enough to allow comfortable and easy passage by a single human being. Rucksack totted, determination coiling around every fibre, Dakarai N'Sehla approaches the same.
“It's the 'fur', I think,” Cecile Madhukar runs fingernails gently and carefully across a Spinarak's back, sat in a casual lotus on the hard ground of the classically designed arena. To her right, purely transparent glass makes up a wall of two storeys worth of height, square metres of the rooms beyond compact - her living quarters, furniture plainly viewable. Ahead, light filters in gradient from a wall of shifting translucency - opaque light pastel browns shrink sideways as if escaping heat. The top of the wall is letting the daylight spill across the arena like inverse, gentle, lethargic flames.
The conversation on the less brittle nature of spider pokémon's exoskeletons even in dry weather between her and the crouching researcher is interrupted by the shadow of Dakarai disturbing the otherwise so warm designs out of the corner of her eye. “…client, maybe,” she remarks, lightly grimacing at the distraction, gaze having slid sideways to inspect this near-silhouette - her tone is soft, but it's nonetheless cut across what the other person was about to say. Fortunately, with them near the centre of the gym, and Dakarai somehow exercising courtesy, the details of her face are amiss to him, though her irritation, in turn, is minimised.
Justin looks up at the distraction; almost scowling before looking back across ot the Gymleader before he nods, smiling with warmth down at the Spinerak. “Hmm. Maybe,” he nods a little, the small and slender man pushing on his knees to stand up straight. He backs away then, out of courtesy, before looking down at his clipboard, spectacles falling down his nose slightly as he does so.
Cecile shifts to a rise, grey eyes sparkling with that very fire that so often seems to give them colour. A moment's hesitance passes, before she's slid her left hand's thumb into one belt loop, right dangling beside her. The Spinarak, no longer held immobile, scurries with haste to a corner of the gym, though not before aiming for the door. Seems like it's semi-wild - one of the critters in the foliage, then?
Cecile's steps come roughly matched by Dakarai's sure stride, his fingers wrapped around the straps of his rucksack, the nervousness from earlier entirely invisible in his demeanour. “How may I help you?” Cecile's smile appears on her face with almost practised ease, though her eyes retain that feel of scrutiny.
Justin watches as he moves away, standing near the door, glancing in the direction that the Bug pokemon had gone in. He is silent for long moments, before he smiles a little, faintly before moving to sit with his back against the wall, watching the two, but not rudely. Lowering his head, he writes something on his clipboard then looks back up again.
Of course, as long as there are humans near the door, that pokémon is unlikely to return to the corridor - it seems surprisingly timid for something that had moments ago allowed Cecile's fingertips to lull it into peaceful paralysis.
Dakarai executes a bow, shoulders shifting to accommodate the motion, gaze latched on Cecile's face with a respectful but very stern expression, not entirely suiting the rest of the pretty picture. “Mrs. Madhukar, I come to battle. I was told you have that time?”
At this, Cecile's face scrunches into one of mildest unease, gaze darting from her newest visitor to Justin, quizzically, as if hoping for confirmation that their conversation had been concluded, and she was, indeed, available for a gym battle.
Justin narrows his eyes slightly then nods, pushing to his feet and moving away from the corridor, ending up leaning against one wall near to where Dakarai entered the Gym's arena. He remains silent then and changes the sheet on the clipboard for a fresh one, eyes narrowing at his own tiny writing before raising his head and smiling, but only faintly.
Confirmation received, Cecile slides her gaze back to Dakarai, almost up past her eyebrows. It's been a while since she's actually made use of the Path gym as an actual gym. Of course, there was something disturbing about that - better not be a trend. Grimace inward only, her lips are instead tugged by a marketing smile. “I do.” Head inclined, she adds, as if to have her part not be quite so brief and in after-thought: “Do you need time to prepare?”
Dakarai utters a brief, strangled bout of laughter, only to bring his left hand up to clasp index and middle finger against his lips to silence himself, lowering his head respectfully, apologising in demeanour, if not in words. “No. I'd just like to start as soon as possible.”
Justin narrows his eyes just slightly but remains silent as he looks on, fingers tapping silently against the clipboard. Dragging his lower lip between his teeth he flicks a look to Dakarai then back to Cecile before he smiles and pushes a hand through his short brown hair, nodding once but to himself.
What a bizarre individual - that glint to the eyes was familiar on some level of abstraction. Determination. Few people came around that had such a resolute air about them. Cecile's frown now appears, creasing her lips, though it is more one of being perplexed now. “Well then…” She hesitates with the gesture, a touch taken aback; then she points her hand flatly toward the door side end of the area. As if in emphasis, the Spinarak finally finds its way out of the doors, a fleck of motion. “Dual battle style, total of four,” she informs. “I'll give you a gesture when you may call your pokémon,” she nods as if acknowledging the veracity of her recitation, gaze a touch distant, even as she demonstrates the gesture, before she catches herself again. “Please take your spot.”
Justin looks on, smiling as the Spinarak reappears without that he says anything. Flexing his fingers, he looks down at the paper and writes several headings, brow creased before he looks up, still silent and he smiles, for the barest second before the look turns to a more studious one, gaze intent as he looks across at Cecile and Dakarai.
Dakarai allows himself furrowed brows. “Dual battle style? Two against two?” he asks, wanting to confirm he was not missing out on some lingo not yet learnt. Cecile briefly arches a brow, before at first nodding, then appending, verbally: “Yeah.” This said, she keeps herself stood beside Dakarai until the moment he nods in acknowledgement and turns to stride across to the far end, even while shrugging out of the straps of his rucksack, sliding it in all its heaviness to be held in his right hand, until he lets it smoothly set down on the ground in the rectangle marking his moving space.
Inhale. Exhale. He stares at the door for a brief moment, before abruptly tearing himself away from that contemplative gaze, only to, in the same motion, move to crouch and flip open his rucksack, rummaging for a moment. He was still undecided on the second pokémon, but he was perfectly willing to stall the fight after his first was out, if it came to that - which, right now, he had no doubt about. 'Slow and easy in battle, Dakarai - you need your energy for travel.'
Justin watches intently, gaze flicking between the two, although he did smile at Cecile - and fondly - before gnawing on his lower lip some, flicking a look to the Spinarak, head tilting slightly. Pushing a hand through his hair again, he frowned slightly but at himself, not at anyone else.
A dual battle meant he still needed a distraction beside the main pokémon, though. And what better to ward off the only attacks that could prove a solid threat to his Skarmory than by allowing a dragon onto the playing field? He was sure it wasn't necessary - he could think of no poison or bug pokémon that had moves that would threaten his, other than Heracross, and he was fairly sure Cecile did not have one. He didn't come entirely without preparation, after all.
Fingers wraps around Incision and Basilisk's pokéballs, fishing them from the confines of the backpack after sifting through labelled pokéball after labelled pokéball. Once found, they rest comfortably in his palms, and, without yet rising from his crouch, he shoots a glance sideways over his right shoulder toward Cecile, nodding and smiling in gesture: I'm ready, what about you?
Justin watches and waits to see what the challenger brings out before he flicks a long to Cecile, smiling fondly at her, before he coloured slightly, looking back down at his clipboard, gaze distant. Fingers flexing, he looked around again then back to Dakarai and Cecile.
Cecile meanwhile has fished an old but ultimately unused tissue from her right pocket, lips pulling taut in some semblance of embarrassment, before letting that vanish in the respective other pocket, only to surface with pokéballs of different colours. It only takes her a glance to choose - two balls wander back into the pocket, before she gestures as previously agreed.
Four pokémon appear on the playing field near-simultaneously. Dakarai's flanked by Basilisk, a Dragonite, and Incision, a Skarmory, while on Cecile's side, Cobran, an Arbok, and Ian, a Yanma, crystallise out of the red glow. Ironically, it is Cecile that tenses, Dakarai merely flexing his left hand in quiet contemplation.
Justin blinks, quickly writes something down then looks back up at the battlefield, wide-eyed. He doesn't make a sound although the lip-gnawing turns almost fierce even as he shifts, uneasily before he flicks a look back to Dakarai's pokemon, eyeing them almost analytically.
Basilisk, having appeared on all fours, turns slightly wide eyes over to its trainer, leaning forward to rest on all fours, demeanour almost timid, albeit collectedly so. “Basilisk, use OUTRAGE on that Arbok, we can't have it sticking around,” Dakarai remarks, without raising his voice. “Incision, DRILL PECK the dragonfly.” Rigid, turn-order style battling was his best bet for now. Strategy, like a game of chess - if Cecile allowed it. He had trained for freeform, but how often had he actually battled another trainer? Almost never. This was as good a time as any to explore the basics. Right now, he saw no downside to it, though he swore to himself to stay alert.
Cecile's words are not entirely easy to make out from Dakarai's distance, especially with his own words laced across them as they are. Their meaning is quickly resolved, though; a cloud of TOXIC fumes rolls toward Basilisk from the Yanma, and a SCREECH launches toward the Skarmory from the serpent, seeming to glitter off its silver flight feathers as it rises quite abruptly into the flight twirl-dive of DRILL PECK.
Basilisk, however, seems less decisive. It's not that it hasn't heard Dakarai, nor is it that it honestly does not wish to act upon the command - there is just some hesitance, and the rearing up on its hind legs as the poison hits it. A deafening roar sounds from the dragon, and the ground shakes ever so slightly as it takes a single step back.
In that same instant, the fragile shape of the dragonfly impacts with a frightfully loud cracking sound against the ground, thrown against it by sheer momentum, speared by the Skarmory's beak with an unmerciful precision.
Dakarai growls lowly - purely impatiently, not maliciously. “Remove that snake from the playing field, Basilisk,” he hisses toward the dragon, gesturing to the Arbok.
Justin watches, then winces a little, writing something down before he coughs softly, eyes widening as he looks on. He doesn't look at Cecile for the moment, eyeing Dakarai and then his two pokémon. Writing something else down, he frowns and looks across to Cecile, biting hard on his lower lip but he doesn't make a sound, not even when he looks away.
Apparently, two can play that game. Cecile withdraws the Yanma in exceptional hurry - that was an insane wound, she wasn't going to let the critter suffer it longer than necessary. A snarl is wrenched from her, fortunately not nearly loud enough to carry, though it shows in her face - and a Scyther manifests mid-assault toward the Dragonite, blades raised in preparation of a SLASH. It's the wrong moment for Basilisk to follow up on it's initial command - opening itself up to the Scyther's assault, a gash tears down from its right elbow down its side in a roughly vertical fashion as the bug pokémon passes by. “Fuck.” This type of to and fro was not working, not with his pokémon slower to react than they should be. “Incision, repeat on target: Scyther!” Screw elegance. Basilisk was bait, anyway, and while it OUTRAGEd away on Arbok, it was still useful on the playing field.
Another SCREECH richocets off Incision, going ignored. She isn't likely to get its defence down low enough to offset both defensive type advantage and sheer level of sturdiness, so he's not worried - alert, but not worried. Rise. Spin. Drill Peck. Another furious crunching sound, this time far closer to Dakarai; the Scyther utters a shriek, surprisingly of anger rather than pain, despite being pinned by that steel beak.
Justin narrows his eyes and scowls although he doesn't say anything, writing again, his eyes almost fully closed. He doesn't look at Dakarai or Cecile now, just their pokemon and he winces in silent sympathy for the Scyther. He nods to himself then, frowning a little more before biting at the end of his pen.
To cut a long story short, against Dakarai's predictions, Incision still stood strong at the end of that battle. Struck by a WING ATTACK from Cecile's Scyther, it nonetheless easily decimated the Ariados that followed, a NIGHT SHADE notwithstanding. Basilisk brought down that Arbok as intended, though badly struck, itself, by the serpent's BITE.
Stood central in the arena is Incision, three of its steel feathers bent into bizarre angles from the SCREECH-enhanced assault on it, breathing slowly and evenly, its eyes narrowed in an arrogant, proud hatred of the opposing trainer for getting even that far. Basilisk, on the other hand… it's not hurt that much worse, despite the poisoning, but it's dealing a lot less well, back down on all fours near Cecile's end of the arena, shivering slightly.
Justin wrote something down and then slipped his pen into a pocket before he allowed the arm holding the clipboard to his side, hiding the contents of what he'd written. He looked across to Cecile and Dakarai before he eyed the injured pokémon, scowling a little more as he took one step forwards, without that he said anything.
Dakarai strides in slow, energy-restrained steps toward the Dragonite, lips pressed together to a thin line, even as he silently recalls Incision. His tone is courteously quiet, but distinctly merciless as he steps to beside the dragon's neck and head region: “You brought that upon yourself.” It's delivered matter-of-factly, with the slightest shrug of his shoulders, even as he taps tips of index and middle finger against one antenna. “I should just leave you out of your pokéball until the TOXIC gets you, but… that wouldn't be very productive,” he remarks in near-whisper, tone almost soothing, though his expression is one of a bitter flavour of idle disappointment. “More later,” he finally hisses through clenched teeth, even as Cecile approaches. It's not that he feels he should hide his words from her - but she's a human being and deserves the courtesy of not being talked across, should she wish to say something. Basilisk is engulfed in a red glow, even as Cecile, breath hinting a pant, approaches with something of an incredulous gaze. Her lips part easily, to speak: “Overkill much?”
Justin pinches his nose, shifting uneasily without that he says anything before he walks forwards a little more, opening his mouth to say something before he frowned, closing his mouth again, brow furrowing. He stares down at his empty hand then and bites at a nail before he looks back up and at the other two humans.
Dakarai arches a brow at those words. “I should fight with mediocre chances?” he counters, shrugging slightly, before frowning openly. “No,” he shakes his head, simply. “It was adequate. It did the job.” - “You nearly killed two of my pokémon,” Cecile remarks, voice level, but certainly infused with a stern flavour. Of course she knows she has no right to be outraged in the least, but it's hit a nerve. The brutality of the fight has knocked her off balance. - He inclines his head to the side and nods once, simply. “If your pokémon are dear to you, I do apologise,” he states, simply, the tone resonating with sincerity, albeit an awkward one. “I did not mean to cause distress.” - Cecile flusteredly stares back at him, gaze almost a glare, tinged with restrained venom. 'This is unusual,' some part of her mind scolds. 'You usually have more of a grip than this, girl.'
Dakarai adopts a slight look of confusion, himself. He can't really place her behaviour. She seems furious, but she's given an overall far too sensible impression as that he would mistake it for her being a sore loser. “Mrs. Madhukar, please… I assure you, I meant no harm.” It's a peg short of a soft stammer - and the wrong thing to say. Cecile's heart takes a leap at the statement and it is by the skin of her teeth that she resists throwing the words back at him with a 'You should listen to yourself someday'. No, this was not the time and place for that. 'Let him come to that conclusion himself, Cecile. This subject is not your responsibility. Do your job.' Silence is maintained, her gaze drifting off elsewhere simply to allow her to calm, lower lip trapped between her teeth.
It took her a moment - perhaps longer than was courteous even in Dakarai's book - but she found his face with her gaze once more, smiling slightly forcedly. “No hard feelings,” she assures, feeling as if she were lying. A breath escapes her in audible exhale, her eyes closing, allowing herself to adopt a beaten demeanour, though he would not know its true cause. “Path badge - you'll want it, right?” she manages to ask.
Justin blinks, eyes widening but he doesn't say anything, brow furrowed. He flicks a look around the room then back at the floor, unable to look at either of them without flushing. When he finally does look up, he nods once and starts to turn away, lips pressed to a thin line; him keeping his thoughts to himself before flicking a fond half smile to Cecile.
The half smile is returned, along with a somewhat pleading gaze. Stay here, those eyes say, please, and talk to me after this is over. It feels like a nightmare. I could use a hug. Still, the gaze is gone as quickly as it appeared, and her eyes swirl back to find Dakarai's face as he speaks: “Please. That is, after all, what I came here for.”
“Well… come with me, then.” Path badge. She didn't usually keep one of them on her, they were in a box on her living room table, for lack of a better place to put them, box and contents decorative more than ever necessary. So tired - she felt she must be sounding as if torn from deep, necessary sleep. Turning, she walks in lead toward the glass wall, feeling… numb? Was that the best word to describe it?
Justin chews on his lip then turns to follow Cecile and Dakarai, worried inwardly for the young woman although he wouldn't admit that unless questioned and that by the Gymleader herself. He frowns though, eyeing Dakarai out of the corner of his eye, inwardly feeling sick how how brutal he was.
Half a minute later, they're up in between the dark red felt couches of Cecile's living room, with her unclipping the box, opening it, only to retrieve a metallic, stylised dragonfly pin, its tail bent to the left only to end in a wicked scorpion's stinger. It's intricately crafted - a small work of art - even if the colour itself is entirely unexciting, almost dull. It rests for a moment in her right palm, before she's handing it to Dakarai in silence, almost squinting up at him, herself lowered to height of that matt glass table, him stood beside her.
Justin shifts sideways, watching intently before he looked away and out of the door again, leaning against the doorframe. He remains silent, brow furrowed before his face relaxes in what could be called a smile if not for the tenseness. His fingers flex and he flicks a look back down to the clipboard then back across to Dakarai and Cecile.
Dakarai takes it, regarding it with a strange, undecipherable emotion, eyes just wide enough to pass as widened, without that he gives the impression of being surprised. It's a bizarre expression to wear. He lets the silence linger, before wordlessly slipping the badge into his right pocket. His bag is still down in the arena, after all. Glancing up from his pocket, he bites his lip at one corner, before speaking: “Mrs. Madhukar - I understand it is usual for gym leaders to give winners a small sum of money to aid them on their travels… I have a bit of an unorthodox request pertaining to that.”
Justin blinks then narrows his eyes, looking across at the two before away again, into the main room, inwardly feeling rather irritated by the trainer without that he said anything nor even showed it outwardly. Flicking his tongue across his lips, he turned away, rubbing at the tip of his nose without that he makes a sound.
Dear lord, why could he just not go away? But he had a point, she'd forgotten about that tradition. Not only that, but he wanted to break with it? A touch wary, she shoots a glance up at his face. “What do you want?” she asks, a sliver more roughly than intended. - “I was wondering if you might have a leaf stone and would be willing to give me one rather than money,” he states, bowing his head, his tone admirably respectful.
Justin flinches ever so slightly but he doesn't make a sound, glancing back over his shoulder at the pair before he tore his gaze away, rubbing at his face with one hand, breathing out softly. Becoming lost in thought himself, he stared into middle distance without that he lost his alertness.
A leaf sto- he was definitely taking this more seriously than anyone she'd ever come across. Her instinct yelled 'no' - why contribute to what is no doubt going to be culminate in some level of madness? On the other hand, she was intrigued - and the barest hint of a sadistic thought tugged the right corner of her lips to a rise. “All right.” If Dakarai understood people more, he would pick up on the warning sign of that suddenly perfectly friendly, determined and level tone. “I think I have one flying around somewhere.” A searching glance touches Justin's face, before she looks to Dakarai again. “I still have some things to speak about with Justin, if you could return to the arena and wait for me there, I'd be grateful.”
Justin looks back over his shoulder at Cecile then smiles warmly, straightening and turning to face her, the arm holding the clipboard resting at his lower back as he does so. He flicks a look to Dakarai but still doesn't make any sound, expression relaxed but at the same time superior, or almost so anyway. He pushes his other hand through his hair and across the back of his neck, rubbing at it slightly.
Dakarai nods, turning with casual grace and leaving almost perfectly silently back across the living quarters the way they up come from… leaving Cecile's shoulders to sag with a quiet relief. “…I don't know what it is about that guy,” she mutters, almost whispering the words, as if she were afraid she might be making a fool of herself to Justin, even as she clips the gym badge box back shut, rising to a stand, gaze fixed on the wooden container. Once straightened, her gaze rises to Justin's face and she huffs a breath. “What are your thoughts?”
Justin steps towards her, every movement of his precise and yet almost delicate although he makes not a sound till he's right in front of her. “I've seen some harsh battles and nasty trainers come through here… but he seems to be the harshest and yet at the same time one of the more friendly ones,” he exhales, his voice low, quiet. “I don't approve his brutality and harshness towards his pokémon.” He flicks a look over his shoulder at Dakarai then looks back to Cecile. “I find him one of the most irritating people I know. He's almost rude,” he finishes, eyes worried, brow furrowed.
“Rude?” she asks, though the tone suggests she's not disagreeing - as if she felt the same way, but could find no evidence to support it. Sceptical of herself and of Justin in light of reality, she wanted to analyse this piece by piece. That said, she does begin to check the cupboards for where she last saw one of her two leaf stones. If only Justin knew; she could have a different conversation with him now.
Justin nods. “Yes, it was in the way he spoke to you… ” he shakes his head slightly, frowning a little.“It did not seem to me that there was very much respect there. He's polite, I'll give him that but there's a point where politeness can be too much and then appear rude… - he was close to that.” He sighs then, rubbing at one side of his nose and looking down at the table, gnawing on his lower lip.