[attr="class","spiral"]"But you didn't."

Despite the presence of their Pokemon as well as other vacationers in the resort area, this part of the beach is reserved for the two of them. Only the sound of the waves washing up to shore break the eerie pause between each other. Even the sun doesn't bring the same warmth as the day before, setting on the two of them as the sky turns a hazy pink.

As the temperature dips so does his reservation. Goosebumps prick up like the thirsty spines of a Cacturne. Laid bare, SHIRTLESS, the numerous, deep scares of his childhood serve as the only places where he doesn't sweat. They stick out in the same manner that he does.

They're a reminder as to why he can't fail like those around him.

[attr="class","spiral"]And he returns her gaze.

Promoting her as a Gym Leader hadn't been by choice. His hands were tied when she was painted as one of the instigators behind the excessive show of used in Dahlia's rescue mission. Through their combined efforts, she met every expectation, becoming one of the more capable Gym Leaders that Hoenn has known.

Accepting her as an Elite Four member was also against his wishes. This one was harder to turn down due to their lack of viable replacements but Fernando made his stance clear. His denial was more for appearance sake than anything else. Nepotism is still an issue the two of them face and the more Stormy rises, the more their critics will pick at them. He's yet to approve of her actions as one of the League's most prominent trainers but he's come to tolerate her. Sometimes his lack of objection is enough.

But now she holds a title that Fernando has no control over. Being appointed the power to impact the region is both a heavy responsibility and an impossible burden. For a moment, he sees the MIRAGE of a younger Bronwen, before his departure from Silph estate. She was cuter back then, still as hot-headed, but her age made it more doting than dealing with an ill tempered adult.

He blinks and his vision returns to his 'sister', fully grown and realized.

"Does it matter?"

[attr="class","spiral"]"Why?"

Such a simple question on the surface but one that comes with compounding consequences. Fernando always approaches lectures with the Socratic method. Tug at the other person's point of view, learn their method of thinking, understand them so that you can destroy them after dissection. However, this time he has no doubt in his mind what'll he'll get is something more laced in emotion than mindless thinking.

The waves start to climb up the beach shore, warning of their climb each time they lap up dry sand.

[attr="class","spiral"]He debates telling her what she needs to hear: that she shouldn't.

But everyone else has undoubtedly given her the same advice. So Fernando saves his breathe. Instead, they can talk about more important matters, like the issue at hand. "Do you know what possessing Moltres will mean?" It goes without saying that if anyone can understand the pressure of representing a Legendary Pokemon, it's Fernando. As one of the only publicly known avatars, his use of the Pokemon has been the most restrained of all.

That's why he still has his.

"Because the world won't wait for you to be ready."

[attr="class","spiral"]"It's not about your best. It's about being better than everyone else's best."

He doesn't entertain the thought of telling her the truth. Their viewpoints are too vastly different to ever reach the same page. The most he can do is to read his own excerpt to her.

"There will be good times but there will also be bad times. The world is not kind, Bronwen."

And neither will the challenges ahead.

[attr="class","spiral"]"I don't dance."

The abrupt break in their conversation causes his tone to relax. He's less serious now but that's hardly saying anything when it comes to Fernando. At the very least, he extends a hand, something to bring her back in from the ocean. They've done enough SUN TANNING to last a vacation. Even the ghastly pale skin Fernando's known for has turned a bit more brown.

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

Her fingers trace over previously blistered skin. Fernando's patient enough to not pop them, rewarding himself with an extensive enough treatment to render the skin back to normal. Between the access to his slew of Pokemon, recovering from such a minor injury is child's play. However, feeling someone's touch against the wound still causes him to recline. He does so out of instinct rather than consciously.

"Tch."

Begrudgingly, Fernando complies. Hands against hand, eyes set in stone. What she looks for in others are missing from the void of his narrowed glare.

Exposed to one of his few weaknesses, he waits for her lead.