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Gwynn awakens to the clamor of a terrified, guttural yell from somewhere in the apartment. What time even was it? She's sat bolt upright now; lavender-colored comforter hastily tossed aside, her body seemingly moving of its own accord whilst her brain attempts catch up; rousing itself from what had been a pleasant slumber. Previously dozing just minutes before, the Litwick at the end of her bed sleepily stirs to life, its flame flickering on and dimly lighting the room with an ethereal violet glow.
It's an occurrence that both the young girl and her Pokémon have become accustomed to over the past couple of months. An occurrence, that someone of her age shouldn't have been saddled with at just 11 years old, something that a grown-up was supposed to have attended to. Unfortunately for her, such responsibilities had fallen upon her shoulders, for the one that should've been responding to this right now had traded their parental responsibilities for an all-inclusive Alolan spa resort.
14 was more than mature enough for your teenage son to man the house and look after his little sister, right? In fact, in most regions, it's perfectly acceptable to let 10 year olds go off into the world, with just their Pokémon to keep them safe on their adventures. They have two Pokémon, they'll be perfectly sufficient for a week. Such was the mindset of their father as he booked travel tickets for his umpteenth vacation of the year.
Admittedly, Gwynn isn't really too sure whether tangibly having her father here would've made much difference to her situation. His blasé reaction to The Incident of months ago hadn't instilled any sort of comfort or reassurance in either of his children, which was probably part of the reason as to why she'd been startled awake at-- 3am, the clock on the hallway wall reads as she dashes out of her bedroom and into the corridor.
Another jarring couplet of howls, this one marginally weaker than the first and tinged more with deep melancholy, compared to its predecessor. The dark-haired girl already has her hand on the doorknob, twisting it without hesitation and enters the room, her candle-like Pokémon hot at her heels. There's no fear at what she may find within this room; these days, it's difficult for her to feel much else other than enervation. She's not completely emotionless however... the love for her older brother still burns, albeit comparable to kindling, desperately trying to remain alight despite being battered by torrential rain and high-speed winds. Unconditional love has its limits, Gwynn has come to discover, when haphazardly doling it out at the expense of one's own mental well-being. Seemingly to little improvement.
"Ivor?"
Thanks to the soft phosphorescence of her Litwick, Gwynn is able to see a large figure, curled up and shivering in the fetal position on the carpeted floor. His Falinks has already sprung into action; the brass having instructed its troops to subdue the frightened boy in the form of rudimentary deep pressure therapy. Each one is stationed on a different area as Ivor lies there, sobbing desolately with his choppy bobbed hair splayed around him, eyes squeezed shut. They're trying their best as they weigh him down with their little black feet, but the Falinks look towards Gwynn hopefully; there's only so much they can do to soothe their trainer when they lack the ability of human speech.
"Ivor, it's okay. It's just a bad dream. You're okay." Gwynn sits down beside her brother, voice calm and collected; there's no choice for her not to be. She reaches for his hand, placing hers on top of it... it seems to have lessened his frantic breathing a bit. "The same one?"
Ivor takes in huge, greedy breaths; it's as if between all the yelling and crying, he'd forgotten how to respire. He's not able to speak just yet, nodding briskly as he attempts to steady himself through the cold sweat and pounding heartbeat, as hot tears stream down his cheeks and phlegm burns the back of his throat.
"She... s-she... was there again..."
Yep, same one, Gwynn thinks to herself. It's a discordant blend of sensations that she feels for her brother; worry, concern, the feeling of wanting to make it all better for him and yet, knowing she's incapable. Then there's the exasperation; why's it my job to talk him down? He's the older one! The frustration of this unsolicited role reversal that was offloaded onto her, without even being able to challenge it. Anger at her parents, for leaving her in multiple senses of the word. She tries not to aim this resentment at Ivor, he can't help whatever's going on in his head, but sleep deprivation has ways of twisting your patience. All of these things have coalesced into apathy, similar to when you mix everything together in the color block paint tin and end up with some grotesque shade of brown.
Gwynn gives his hand what she hoped was a comforting squeeze, wondering if this is what Mum would be doing for him right now, had she still been here. Their mother had always been much better at this reassurance stuff, she'd know exactly what to do to stop all of these nightmares. Maybe it was just something that came with being an adult? No, surely not, otherwise their father would've done it already.
"It was an accident, Ivor. You didn't mean it."
There's a short silence between them, punctuated only by choked sobs as the older boy seems to internalize the weight of her words and the way that her hand and his Falinks ground him. "...I-I... I didn't, but I hurt her... I k-keep seeing her face, over and over again..."
Gwynn sighs heavily; she's learned that it isn't as important to reason with him when he gets in this state, but to simply state the facts like a mantra until he finally calms down. "It. Wasn't. Your. Fault. It was an accident, that's all..."
Damn it, she wished she could rationalize it better than it being 'just an accident'. She'd only caught the tail end of it, after all, and what she witnessed had been scary, for everyone involved... It seemed like the only person that had actually enjoyed it was Lebanne. Thankfully, neither of them had been too badly hurt; some burly 6-foot-something biker had broken up the brawl before it advanced past bruises, bloody noses and knocked out teeth. Lebanne had mercilessly goaded it out of him; a truly satisfying fight after their Pokémon battle had proven to be an unchallenging affair. Gwynn had never seen her brother so crazed and dangerous before. Perhaps she would have been more frightened of him, had it not been for how contrite he'd been at the time, and continues to be, even months onward. Such an outburst was so out of character for him; her sweet, kind older brother who didn't have a single bad bone in his body... They never did talk about what was said or done exactly; Ivor finds it too painful to recall right now, even to his closest confidant, but Gwynn figures it must have been nasty. It involved Lebanne, obviously it was going to be nasty. Could Ivor have been capable of... that? Gwynn didn't like to think about it.
"You're okay now, it was just a bad dream. It can't hurt you."
Finally, her words appear to have made it through to him. Or at least, the adrenaline rush seems to have faded. Gwynn feels his hand moving beneath her own, as Ivor returns the squeeze, albeit very gently and carefully, as if hyper-aware of his strength in this moment. Confident that their trainer is going to be okay, the Falinks hop off him and allow Ivor to sit up, quickly encircling him and nuzzling up against his solid frame, simply happy that things are stable again.
"...Thanks, Gwynn..." He's still sniffling, with bloodshot eyes and tears streaking down his face, but manages to force a fragile smile. Ivor's reluctant to let go of her hand, so Gwynn allows him to linger... If it were up to her, physical touch wouldn't have been her choice of comfort here, but it seems to work the best with her brother so she'll allow it. "...Would it be okay if... you stayed here, j-just for tonight? Please?"
Saw that one coming a mile off. It's pretty much become the routine each time Ivor has a nightmare, bringing her pillow and duvet from her bedroom to his and camping out on the floor for the rest of the night. Gwynn doesn't mind it too much, the carpet isn't too uncomfortable, even if her older sibling tends to toss and turn noisily in his sleep. She just wants to rest. Ivor seems to appreciate it, even though she feels like she's not able to give him the help that he needs.
It's better than nothing at all, she supposes.