the springtime of youth {steven}

[Deleted]

NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING - - - JUST A LITTLE VAIN. ♥     The sense of placidity that the sea offered could never be duplicated. Shimmering reflections of sapphire bounced from the mellifluous mirror, catching blinding light on his sunglasses while the cool winds brushing past embraced his small figure. Various Pokemon danced on the surface in the visible distance, enjoying both the melancholy and excitement the cerulean body of water could offer. It could be disastrously terrifying and yet elegantly alluring all at the same time - unpredictable. He inhaled the aromatic scent of salt deeply; there was, without a sliver of doubt, nothing more beautiful than the sea. Wallace's musings were brought to a grinding halt when his shades suffered a minor blow against the wind, causing them to come askew all over his face. With a click of his tongue and a scowl to match, the male leaned away from the railings of the ship he'd absentmindedly wandered up to, fixing up the accursed accessory. There was always something - a catch, a nick, an obtrusion. Questioning why nothing could ever be perfectly smooth, he'd long since learned, was futile. It was one of the many reasons the sea was an absolute goddess; imperfections could never overshadow her intense majesty. ... But for now, that was enough of that. The baritone voice of the S.S. Tidal's captain carried past the ship's engine, announcing their five minutes' arrival from Lilycove City. 'About time', he'd mused to himself, before making his way over to where his parents were lodged. The trip had been exceedingly long, courtesy of some passenger delays and problems with the engine. Thankfully, the time had whizzed by when his attention had become riveted on the sea , hypnotized by the placid waves. He'd had the smallest inkling that his parents had purposefully lured him out to deck to enjoy the scenery while they got some shut-eye from his non-stop complaints about the state of the ship's commodities. In his defence, the beds had squeaked and the had door hinges rattled. They were valid criticisms. Soon enough, the ship had docked and the silhouette of the port city materialized. With a small aquamarine satchel slung across his body and the white strap over his left shoulder, Wallace descended the ship with his parents in tow. Pulling up his sunglasses to allow them rest atop his head, he glanced at the city with a sceptical gaze. Well, there were worse places to be. WORDS --- TAGS steven COMMENT WOW OKAY this is my first RP in like a year sob. I swear I'll get into it after more posts. v.v Here's kid Wallace reminding you of kid obnoxious Ruby.

MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[STEVEN S. STONE]

[[flashback 23 years ago // age 9]]

The boy was having just as much of a good time wading through the ankle-deep pools of water on the shore dredging up the stones littering the bottom as he was hunting for particular stones. The way the earthen materials looked beneath the clear waters that had remained after tide went out had a certain way of shining in the light. Water rippling over their few-and-far between crevices practically carved tiny details into the stone in the boy’s mind, as time fast-forwarded to his own imagination, thinking of what the rocks would look like with the pass of years against the constant abrasion of waves.

Something like that was a question he wanted answered so badly, but he knew there would be no way to tell until nature played its part.

He stepped to the side, shaking his shoes free of the water as he ran towards what had caught his eye – a black stone laying a few feet off, partially submerged in the next pool of water over. He practically jumped toward it, kneeling in the sand to examine his find. It was a beautiful Chert specimen. Careful fingers gently stroked over the fine, smooth surface of the rock. A sudden clang called his eyes away for only a moment, long enough to register that the ship he’d seen a ways off a while ago had finally docked.

Without a second thought, Steven picked the stone up from where it lay in the warm sand, cradling it beneath his arm and took off back toward the city, narrowly missing a few disembarking families as he ran, enthusiasm about his find rendering the boy incapable of paying so much as a quick, “Sorry!” to whomever he’d almost barreled straight into in his path toward the Lilycove Museum.

He reached the steps of the impressive building, merely able to look up at it for a few moments while he tried to catch his breath. ”Father!” he called, as though President Tsuwabuki would be able to hear him while he was outside. Steven began climbing the steps, not caring in the slightest about the stares the adults around were giving him. A boy dressed in a small bow tie, white shirt, dressy knickerbockers, and proper shoes had sand on his knees and dirt on his clothes – a boy of his standard usually wouldn’t dream of getting dirty as this child had.

He passed through the doors. ”Father!” The call was still loud, though more muted as he entered the building, steel blue eyes scanning the few people there for the man he was looking for – but of course he would be surrounded by other suits. Enthusiasm beginning to drain, Steven walked quietly across from the entrance to stand just behind his father, rocking back and forth on his soles impatiently, hoping this was a conversation that could be interrupted. Something about ‘donations’ and ‘stocks’, and also ‘board chair’.

Familiar terms, and if the boy were paying any attention he would have understood that this was not a conversation he could break his father from.

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE

[Deleted]

NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING - - - JUST A LITTLE VAIN. ♥ Lilycove was not a city he particularly cared for, although it did have its perks. The briny smell wafting in from the sea, combined with the added bonus of being one of Hoenn's busier centres (which, really, just equivocated to the department store that he was more than looking forward to raiding), served to soften his first impression of the city, although truthfully, not by much. The fate of Lilycove's final ruling lay in the renowned Lilycove Museum, which was the family's first planned stop. It was said to house a myriad of picturesque paintings and beautiful sketches, each holding its own against those of other regions. As such, it was rated as one of Hoenn's top attractions... but he'd be the judge of that. After finally successfully embarking, bags gathered, and plans now set, the male and his parents headed towards their destination. People who had been on the same boat were hustling and bustling about, with a few 'hey's!' of protest as something - or someone - whizzed past them. It wasn't so major a disturbance to warrant more than a few minutes of his time, but it was disruptive enough for him to glance at the source of the fuss. From what he could make out, it was just some kid with inexcusable manners and a penchant, it seemed, for avoiding a shower. He shook his head; some people just had no class. Thoughts of the elusive boy, however, soon vanished as they arrived at the automatic glass doors heralding entrance to the museum. The building itself was very symmetrical, painted with a colour that highlighted the sea with which the city prided itself in. It wasn't half-bad; it was certainly aesthetically pleasing. He made a note to take a picture of it when they left. The interior was no less grandiose. Walls were lined with paintings, each station surrounded by a handful of tourists and businessmen. There seemed to be a particular clump of people towards the back, and Wallace glanced curiously in that direction. Tugging his mother's arm, he led her to that general vicinity, scowling every now and again at the other tourists' children recklessly running amuck. How they could not understand that this was a place of class baffled him. Their parents should really control them better. Sadly, however, it seemed there were worse examples. A kid's call for his father rang loud in the area, particularly in the hushed din within the museum. It was hard not to look; Wallace seemed to have this inexplicable urge to examine anything that drew attention to itself. In this case, it took the form of an eerily familiar boy whom his memory belatedly identified as the runt he'd so callously dismissed before. Outfit sopping wet and clothes clumped with dirt as though he had just rolled straight out from a pigsty, it seemed like he was just asking to be called out on. "Ugh, they just allow any riffraff in here," Wallace commented derisively, voice hissed and yet loud enough to be heard within earshot. Clear disgust coating his sharp words, he masked no qualms about others possibly overhearing his criticisms, nose crinkled in revulsion. "I thought they had a "no shirt, no shoes, no monkeys policy". Guess someone didn't get the memo." Honestly, how barbaric. WORDS --- TAGS steven COMMENT WALLACE SHUT YER TRAP

MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[STEVEN S. STONE]

[[flashback 23 years ago // age 9]]

Steven’s enthusiasm for the lovely stone he’d found evaporated rapidly as his father continued talking on and on with these men about business and the like; about something that held very little importance in Steven’s list of priorities. Perhaps it was for the better, though, as the boy could have rambled on and on about different things he liked about this particular rock, as well as others he’d spotted on the shore. Then, naturally, he would attempt to pull his father from what was clearly important business, all for the sake of showing the financial heavyweight what his son had taken interest in instead of running Devon Corporation one day.

A defeated sigh left his lips and steel blue eyes turned away from his father’s back, instead busying the boy with looking around the large museum until his momentary pout over being ignored by his father passed. Normally, it would take a few minutes; first for his mind to wander and his hearing to mute the conversation being held so close to him, then further for his attention to find something interesting enough to latch onto. It wasn’t a difficult process, at Steven’s age, but it was troublesome nonetheless.

Sour words reached his ears very easily, the relatively quiet (and fairly empty…) museum had little that could interfere with sound from one part of its main area to another. The silver-haired child turned, head tilted curiously at stinging remarks coming from the boy near him. Had the blue-haired child (blue hair? That was something else…) not been staring at him, his face was enough to make the heir look at him anyway. He looked as though he’d just stepped in Walrein poop.

“I’m not a monkey. I’m a boy.” Steven said, tone calm and eyes slightly larger than usual. Play the innocent child. That was an act he’d managed to perfect recently…every once in a while he could get away with something. “I was just in the tidepools at the shore! They’re really pretty, you know?” He shifted the rock in his grip and stepped forward, ignoring the fact that his currently dirtied attire was clearly the source of the other’s disdain.

“My name’s Steven! What’s yours?”

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GANGNAM STYLE