[attr="class","spiral"] He's insinuating the same thing he's been claiming since the first day she barged into his office. "No, Bronwen. I am the only Silph. All of you borrow the name but none of you carry the legacy—blood nor talent." There is no discrimination behind Fernando's conviction. As much as he may baby evelyn silph and Cecilia Brooks, truthfully, neither are his bloodline. Not that he holds blood ties in such high regards but the difference is staggering. It is only Bronwen who can wretch him to the point in frustration where he admits it.

Her agape reaction is ignored largely because Fernando finds it juvenile. There are many responses to the human body and as an adult, seeing a naked person shouldn't be so explosive. He doesn't pause and moves to grab a tower, throwing it over his damp hair and covering his shoulders as he dries himself off. For someone who sexualizes the human body by objectifying those willing to submit to his whims, Fernando expects a different treatment. Hypocritical, sure, questionably stemming from his own outdated values.

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[break]

She doesn't flinch at his words, because it's the same damn thing he's been saying since she'd accosted him in his office, and every day since. So it's stopped hurting, stopped meaning anything to her. There was a time where all she wanted to be was a Silph, to prove her family name. But, the truth of it was, she didn't matter. Her name didn't matter. What mattered was what she did and how she acted.[break][break]

Her agape expression is only briefly shown, and it's in shock that he didn't seem at all ashamed to just.. be. It was sort of like a power move, to be unafraid of what other's thought and saw. She was beginning to realise that she hadn't wanted to be a Silph, she had wanted to be more like Fernando. Confident and unafraid.[break][break]

The man moves past her to grab a towel to dry his hair and shoulders, indifferent to her. [break][break]

"Mmm.. you're right. You are an incredible man, Fernando."[break][break]

The way she says it isn't to compliment him - it's merely stated. Instead of grabbing a second towel to dry her hair, she uses the one wrapped around herself. A younger Stormy would have thought of this whole situation as inappropriate given their shared names, but they had never been remotely sibling-like.

[attr="class","spiral"]The compliment is monotone but the words still have a weight to them. Without an obvious layer of sarcasm, the statement feels awkward and out of place, catching him by surprise considering his last line of words. Accosting someone is rarely met with praise, much less from someone as short sighted as Bronwen. He can feels his eyes crease as his vision narrows, one of his most dominant mannerisms when casting judgement, but the reaction is well hidden behind the towel covering his face.

Fernando works top down, wrapping the damp towel around his shoulders and reaching out for another one to dry his chest. The silence is deafening, if only for a moment, cut only by the sound of cloth rustling against skin.

"Hardly."

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[break]

Stormy's hands ruffle the towel around the ends of her hair, scrunching and squeezing the moisture out. Her gaze falls back, blurrily and slowly, on Fernando as he stops short. He seems caught off guard or mildly surprised and she smiles. One hand brushes her cheeks, warm with drink. Her skin tingles and she feels good..[break][break]

He's leering at her, maybe, she can't really tell nor does she care. He's covered by his towel and unresponsive to her compliment, to her statement, to the truth. Instead of pressing on, Stormy wraps her thick, damp hair around her fingers, twirling it into a lopsided bun and pinning it to the top of her head before she reaches again for her loose towel to fold it neatly against her skin. She's still radiating warmth.[break][break]

"Truly."[break][break]

She's short, to the point. Her tongue is thick but she makes herself clear. It's surprising to her in her foggy mind that he might even disagree with what she had said, that he might not agree. [break][break]

"You've always been stronger than any of us."[break][break]

What she says is obvious, something he very well already knows and doesn't care about, but it's still the truth. It's a truth she hadn't wanted to admit for a long time, but is now. She almost chuckles at the thought, but maybe she's just drunk and stupid.

[attr="class","spiral"] Furious scrubbing leaves his skin beet red with irritation. He can't feel it over the prickling itches that come with alcohol consumption. The rough draw of the towel bates the sensation for a moment but it returns soon after and Fernando can't help but scratch at his sides. The towel descends, damp, and is tossed onto the floor without care. Abundance comes natural and he grabs another one, uncaring about his over usage. This ones finds itself loosely tucked around his waist and he spends longer than he should trying to ensure the wrap holds.

Bronwen's words come off odd and he can't help but pick up at something lying underneath the surface. That in itself is unsettling and Fernando turns around to face her, glaring. "What are you getting at?" His tone is measured, more questioning than accusatory, covered in crimson blotches along his face and upper torso. The heavy set of his bags permeate with a deep purple, accentuating just how weary his appearance is.

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[break]

She's in a haze. She's warm and tingly and soft and acutely aware of how Fernando has rubbed his skin raw, how frustrated and annoyed and physically exhausted he is.[break][break]

His second, or maybe third or fourth towel hits the ground and he steps past it, reaching for another. He's uncaring, indifferent to the amount of work he's putting on the staff. But honestly, she doesn't care either.[break][break]

Her attention slowly pulls away from the angry marks on his skin, the bags under his eyes, because he's glaring at her, asking her a question that takes her too long to process.[break][break]

"Thank you for always being strong."[break][break]

Stormy makes a short move to close the gap between them. Just beneath his cheek is a drop of water, and she intends to brush it away.

[attr="class","spiral"] "..."

Fernando is speechless, caught off-guard by the sudden turn in behavior. The time they've spent together training has increased their exposure to each other but to assume that it's rectified their relationship would be a stretch further than the distance from Rustboro to Mossdeep.

"Tch."

For some reason — one which he cannot pinpoint — he doesn't break away. A misguided, drunken semblance of familiarity resolves him to allow the touch. It reminds him of his childhood and while it isn't Bronwen that comforts him, the feeling is mutual. The sensation is fleeting and Fernando turns away the moment her finger leaves his skin.

"Be strong on your own and you won't have to be thankful."

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[break]

Fernando's a fool if he truly still believes that Stormy's attitude towards a person can't change in a few short weeks. Her whole life she had held him on such an impossible pedestal, expecting the best and the worst from him, seeing only the negative, only the frustration he had with her and never his indifference, his politics, his real face.[break][break]

She had seen glimpses, witnessed the calmness in which he addressed strangers, people who weren't her. If anything, she had realised that she was seeing what she needed to see. She was experiencing the man that she needed to, and perhaps that's why she had always, in a way, been drawn to him. Despite her frustrations, despite how desperately she wanted to hate him for being better, being stronger, being everything she isn't, she had found herself still coming to him with questions. She trusted him, truly.[break][break]

In those few short weeks, she had grown to actually appreciate him as who he was. It's possible she was still not seeing his true face, that he was still hiding that from her, that he still regarded her as nothing more than a stand-in Silph.[break][break]

But it didn't matter, and she could feel their hesitation, their muted bond in the way he didn't immediately flinch or pull away from her touch. Stormy takes in a surprised breath - perhaps she had expected there to be static or electricity, like a shock to her system. She had never touched him before, never had the courage to, nor the reason.[break][break]

He turns away the moment her thumb brushes past him and falls to her side. Her eyes are a little softer as she watches him.[break][break]

"I'm stronger with you, and that's okay."

[attr="class","spiral"] The reversal astonishes him and Fernando flinches at first when she touches him on the cheek. By now he's recovered and any further inquisitions into Bronwen's feelings grow weary, reeking of a neediness that bleeds sentimentalism. "Then you're weaker without. Relying on others is not a good thing, Bronwen."

Fernando huffs to himself and the feeling of lightheadedness seems to come full circle. He rubs his left temple with his fingers before walking to his clothes basket. "That is not true strength."

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[break]

She doesn't have the energy nor the interest to argue with him. He's a man who speaks in absolutes. There's only black and white to him, no middle ground. [break][break]

But he has a point. She had relied on people before and been let down, felt weak, felt alone. It was exhausting and painful and cruel, the recovery she was going through. [break][break]

"You might be right, but I've never been truly strong. I still have a lot to learn."[break][break]

She sighs, closing her eyes.

[nospaces]

[attr="class","spiral"] Fernando has no idea that Bronwen is only blooming now. The desolation she's tasted is just a sample of the kind of defeat that molds someone into a true Silph. Not the Silph that inherited a conglomerate among the elite in Saffron. No, to become a true Silph is to know hardship, to swallow the bitter taste of defeat and stare back in utter defiance. The first Silph built an empire on a mountain of tribulations that created a household name. Fernando pales in comparison but he's sampled the rejection that runs his blood cold as ice. It makes him strong. It makes him Fernando.

Bronwen has only had a droplet but the realization settles in. Exhaustion. Pain. Cruel beyond belief. It all becomes a compounding force that either molds a person into something stronger or breaks them at the core. Wherein she's had others to rely on, Fernando had only himself. The only person he's truly depended on is also his greatest weakness. That's where he places his faith and trusts with his truth.

"Then think, grow, and become better."

Wisdom is only obvious in hindsight. The hidden message behind his word lie within Bronwen's behavior and how she should adjust herself. The heat of her rashness has only brought her trouble when dealing with Fernando. The frigidness of his analysis had made his image strong and within it is his own strength.

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[break]

The pain from loving someone and losing them is probably nothing in comparison to the amount of suffering and cruelty the Silph family had experienced on their path to power and politics. Regardless, one persons pain, one family's misfortune isn't comparable to another's. Stormy has tasted a sample of that sort of pain, and it hasn't yet crushed her.[break][break]

Perhaps it's because she's had others to rely on that she hasn't given up. She feels no shame or weakness in allowing others to pick up her pieces and help her sort out her troubles. Perhaps that's why, in a way, she's always been so frustrated and confused by Fernando's unwillingness to let anyone in. His rigidity and desperation to only look after himself has gotten him far, but she can only imagine how much farther he could get by trusting someone who isn't himself.[break][break]

Or she's continuing to live in ignorant bliss.[break][break]

But look how far she'd come by being rash and young and brave. By choosing to do things her own way and not worrying about the right way. She's suffered, but suffering comes as a price of living, of surviving. One cannot live peacefully and find the correct path by not experiencing pain.[break][break]

His words are biting as he responds to her, and she regards him quietly, thoughtfully. [break][break]

She laughs, shifting her weight as she walks past him to the same basket he had reached for his clothes in. She intentionally makes a point to brush his skin again. Perhaps it's the drink or her own boldness encouraging her, but a small part of her is desiring closeness.