[attr="class","spiral"] Nightmares do not frightened Fernando Silph. They are a figment of the imagination, tremors manifested into an elaborate ruse to terrify the vulnerable. Fernando is above that — inhuman, a stubborn Mudsbray with a grit that refuses to validate the distorted images of his musings into anything more than crackpot renditions of his psyche. The lull of Darkrai has little effect on his mental health and it shows in the way he carries himself throughout the ordeal. Silph is composed, decisive, and resolute until the bitter end.

It is not nightmares that frighten Fernando Silph. It is the fragility of those around him that scare him beyond belief. Those who fracture under the pressure add another variable that he cannot control and thus has no power over. Carefully calculated plans unravel at the slighting unhinge and for someone so literal, the way others allow themselves to be twisted by the most trivial turmoil is both unsettling and incomprehensible. To lose such a precious pawn is not something Fernando will accept without contest. That's why he makes his rounds.

An abrupt awakening causes Fernando to clutch his chest as his last moments flash before his very eyes. The pain is unimaginable, causing him to cry aloud in his empty bed, sweating, clutching his chest as he comes too, heaving from the influx of adrenaline pumping through his body. He can feel his heart beat and wheezes in labored breaths, struggling to reach for his cellphone on his nightstand to check the time and send persephone amavi a late night text. He doesn't mention the nightmare specifically, still considering it a device of his own construction, and instead probes into her well being, settling back to sleep after she fails to respond. The fact that she's still trapped within the nightmare realm escapes him and he waits until later in the day to dwell on the hazy memory.

Nothing changes. Life continues as normal. It isn't until he answers kyle lopez's challenge that he has a chance to pry into the chance encounter. From snippets of their conversation, Fernando comes to understand that there's more than meets the eye. The nightmare transcends his own personal creation. They've taken a collective part in a mutual event and everything that's happened reflects their own actions. They're all accountable, to a degree, and Fernando puts one and one together.

Cait Alfric regresses and reports of Mauville's Gym shutting down reaches Fernando's news before anyone else. Between gritted teeth and an exasperated annoyance, he clears his schedule and has @lenora cancel his appointments in lieu of a sick day. If he's not unwell now then he's sure to be after forcing himself to console someone he shouldn't be.

The notification arrives while Fernando's en-route to Mauville. He ignores it at first, reading the first few lines from the notification to avoid marking the message as read and orders his Garchomp to fly faster. The harsh winds batter his face and he strains to stare straight ahead, allowing the wind to dry his eyes and irritate them, knowing full well that they'll water up and fill with red lines by the time he lands. Faking his tears and concerns can prove difficult without the proper tools. Using the weather proves both natural and gives him the extra glossy beadiness he needs.

Fernando sniffles, a consequences of exposing himself to the elements and cold weather. His Garchomp lands in front of the Mauville Gym and he returns the dragon, straightening out his disheveled hair before forcing his way into the Gym. Cait's Hypno is a sight for sore eyes and Fernando gives the Pokemon a grim smile before allowing it to lead him further into her domain. It isn't until he encounter her that he does more than follow.

Wordlessly, Fernando approaches her, pulling her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her as he holds onto her for dear life. His expression is grim and pained, painted perfectly for the occasion as he tries to appeal to her emotional state to strengthen his own impression and hold over her.

[attr="class","spiral"]"Shut up Alfric."

Fernando quiets her with a hushed demand, inhaling deeply as his lungs expand against her. His overlapping arm coils around her with his hand resting against her head, stroking her in a slow, endearing pat. He can feel her heave against him, tears bleeding through the fabric of his shirt with cold little nips where water touches skin. His primary concern is to console her, allow her to break down so that he can reinforce the notion that he's here for her — mostly because in his own deranged way, he is.

When Cait finally distances herself, Fernando keeps an eye on her, dejection clear on his face. "I refuse," he states plainly, eyes narrowing in on her with a clear frown on his face. There are many interjections Fernando can allow in the over all scheme of things. This is not one of them.

[attr="class","spiral"] "Exactly. I refuse."

Fernando's adamant in his choice, unwilling to part with the closest thing he has to a pawn. While Cait's impression of herself has been less than adequate by her own accounts, Fernando's ecstatic about her willingness to plunge herself into hell on his account. The only problem is that such a resource is invaluable. To have her throw herself away so easily is both a blessing and a warning about a short-term investment. If only he could make the most out of her.

"It was a dream," Fernando states plainly. Any and all actions committed within the raid were excusable and none of the League members would be held accountable. Even Fernando thought the lucid dream was nothing more than his own thought until the very end. As for how her colleagues saw her, that's one her, but Fernando cares little about the opinion of those that mean nothing to him. The face of the Jock elevator have escaped his memory and like the last wisp of Darkrai, are buried in repressed memories.

"If you are unsatisfied with your performance then impro—" Fernando bits his tongue as he tries to interrupt Cait's confession. The part about her trying to make an attempt at him causes him to cringe, wincing from the realization that he already knew. To hear her say aloud is a different matter altogether. The occasion is still fresh on his mind and the way she slurred onto kim cole-essam of all people still sickens him.

"I would've done the same thing as you. I did do the same thing as you and ordered to have the other elevators cut. Any mistake you made, I did as well." Fernando sighs, trying to find the best way to defuse the situation while consoling her. This isn't one of his strong suits and he can tell, tightening his fingers into a fist as he tries to navigate between the correct words.

"Well then Alfric, name one person who can do your job better."

[attr="class","spiral"] "You make it sound easy, Alfric. If you believe in my abilities to find talent then trust my judgement. Trust me now."

Fernando can feel his facial muscles tense when he grits his teeth. It takes a conscious effort to recognize the the habit and loosen up, taking the pressure away from his jaw as he slackens up. "I'm very aware of how much I've entrusted onto you. Your service has and always will be appreciated. Should the day come where I find you incapable of carrying on then it will be me approaching you about your performance."

He averts his gaze toward the direction of the open door, well familiar with the interior of her Gym. Several visits have made him accustomed to the standard path to her own living quarters with the main battling arena being a place he's visited many times before. "We all make mistakes Alfric. No one is perfect. All we can do is learn, prepare, and do better."

He places a hand on her shoulder, "But if the pressure is too much for you then that's another story. I care about your mental state."

[attr="class","spiral"] "You're right. We've overcome one hurdle only to face our next obstacle. No matter how hard we try sometimes it doesn't seem to be enough."

Fernando pats her on the same shoulder before reclining to her own personal bubble. "That's why I'm glad I have capable trainers like yourself by my side. Regardless of what you think, you are an asset Alfric. You alone have made my life immeasurably easier and for that I'm thankful."

He pauses.

"That why I care about you. If things get rough, if the burden becomes too big to shoulder, let me know. This isn't something anyone can tackle alone. That why we have each other. That's why we have allies and more importantly, friends."

Fernando turns back to face her, arms outstretched, invasively taking another hug without permission. He clings to her tightly, not for his own sake, but to worm his way closer to what he expects to be her undying trust and adoration. This isn't anything new, and while the words are true, the main purpose is to present the image of someone who's truly set to be there for her. And, until he sees reason not to, he will be.

The greatest trump card is a disposable one.

[attr="class","spiral"] "Then take care of yourself Alfric." He keeps his own voice hushed to match hers. There's a delicate touch to the way he caters his whisper. It's endearing, loving even. "Your life is your own and you should live it accordingly. You mean a lot to me but I shouldn't mean everything to you. You are your own person."

It's a gamble to reinforce this type of thinking but Fernando's willing to hedge his bet on her ignoring it or feeling that his concern in genuine. Enough so to fall further and place her absolute trust in him. He predicts she does already but there's still that teetering line between friend and foe. Would she turn on any stranger for him? Undoubtedly. But her friends, her allies, those she holds just as close? He has no concrete answer and that why he continues to press. It reminds him of LILLIAN GLASS in a way and the deja vu is uncanny.

"I'll be going Alfric. We should have dinner again soon. Were you going to the winter ball with someone this year?"

[attr="class","spiral"] He's gotten used to others using the name Stormy Silph but hearing it still causes him to mentally cringe despite how well he holds his expression and stature. The mention of another girl is surprising and Fernando raises and eyebrow questioningly. "A normal date as in a romantic one?" The verbage used by women with girlfriends and dating each other has always been a vexing subject for him to navigate but he runs on his assumption with the context given. It reminds him of dinner conversation and his brows knot in confusion.

"What about kim cole-essam? Were you planning on asking him?"