Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( RP happens immediately after Lyla & Llyr's solo, Can you die from a broken heart? ))


It had been nearly two weeks since anything significant had happened, circumstance once more falling back into what seemed like its average, predetermined routine. Wasn't 'uneventful' supposed to be a good thing? It meant that there was no real danger about, and that there less risk with the lack of the unknown stumbling through the forest. Every day, in and out, left little abnormal in its wake.

Maybe it was because of that that it was just so utterly boring. Had too much happened lately, making the days prior seem meaningless in comparison? With how much destruction any acquaintanceship seemed to cause, why would anyone wish for meeting anyone else at all? It was dangerous!

So then... why was it that, ever since Lyla had said that she would come back after a week, Kenley had been hoping for that very same thing to occur? Every time he had heard something that sounded even the faintest bit off, he had been prone to quick investigation; at one point, he even started detesting the wind because of the false alerts it had a habit of causing while spinning through the foliage.

Had she forgotten? There was every possibility that Lyla hadn't been feeling the best when she had retreated the last time, so it was possible she didn't remember. It was also possible that she really had been quite sick, and it was just taking a little longer than expected to recover. Strange he hadn't been affected by it, but maybe it hadn't been contagious. Of course, there was always the possibility that maybe the promise had been made arbitrarily. It wouldn't have been the first time, after all. Was that a common way for others to get someone annoying to shut up?

After a week and a half, the notion had been disregarded. So meeting Lyla for a second time had been a fluke; outside of that, it seemed... relatively similar to any other encounter. He shouldn't have expected anything different. Once more, he'd just have to move on; it was easier to look out for himself, and him alone, anyway.

Now if he could just convince himself of the same. Kenley wasn't normally up and about so early in the morning, but lately he had been a little too restless to sleep more than four hours at a time. Maybe it was that old paranoia kicking up again, afraid he'd run into another large avian within his territory. Sudden sounds were making him jump more violently than usual, so it was possible. It was also possible that was just because of the lack of sleep, and corresponding hypersensitivity to noise. Either way, it was grating on him, and the only thing that seemed to give the silcoon any semblance of a peace of mind was to patrol around the perimeter of his forest again. It was a wonder he hadn't carved a moat around the place with his pacing pathways yet.

He hesitated in his steps a moment, faltering at a quiet sound he couldn't quite make out. At first he thought he was just hearing the wind again, but there was no real reason he could consider not to check the area out anyway. It didn't take him long to notice the half-hidden form under one of the more scraggly-looking bushes, bristling slightly as he saw a limb under the cover of darkness but no definable detail. "Hey!" he barked, voice cutting sharply through the stillness of the night, "What do you think you're doing there!?" His voice sounded more on edge than normal, though it didn't help that it looked like someone did a poor job of hiding a body.

Considering the fact that the one hiding under the bush was most certainly not a bird -- at least in the sense he'd be fearing one -- Kenley started ruing that instinctual move of his almost immediately. It was habit to assume the worst out of a person, despite being proven that, more often than not, it was quite the opposite. Who would even want to take over a forest so far out in the middle of nowhere, especially if they had to wrestle it out of someone else's hands? Then again, some people just liked to cause trouble. Chances are, if someone wanted to go through and press for a takeover, they'd know how to hide properly in the dark...

However, as soon as the figure sat upright and revealed herself to be someone Kenley had been pretty sure he wouldn't see again for quite a while, that wish to recant his words increased, tenfold by her reaction. What... was going on? He tried to stay out of her way as she stumbled along, more out of shock than wanting her to actually leave. What was wrong with her? And why was she even out here like this? It didn't make sense!

He jumped as the book fell, moving forward to pick it up for her as she continued to make her slow retreat. His confusion paved the way for his frustrating silence -- he wanted to say something, but what could he when he didn't know what led to all this? Oh... was it because he yelled? Crap, she didn't like that, did she? With a hesitant fidget, he slipped the book under his arm and followed behind the young ledyba, trying to make sense of her yielding and jumbled responses. The sentence structure may have been broken, but the words still stung. He couldn't see her well enough in the dark, hadn't noticed the tears, or the fever painting her face red. Her movements were attributed more to the fact she had just woken up, but even Kenley could tell there was something wrong about them, even if he couldn't pinpoint what. "Lyla..." he attempted, feeling that oddly twisting sense of regret. Had that been the first time he had ever said her name?

Kenley flinched when Lyla fell, but had no time to react. Not this time, not like the times she nearly fell out of the tree, for one reason or another. He hurried over to her side, insistent on sounding irritated but failing to have anything harsh come in over the concern. "I-I'm not mad! And I never told you to leave, either! You just startled me is all," he insisted, leaning a hand on one of his knees in order to get a better look, "Are you alright?" Was she still sick, even after so long? Holding his other hand out, book still pinned to his side, he offered it to Lyla, "Here, lemme help you up." What had gotten into her?

Kenley was most certainly not normally a nighttime-dwelling kid, and he silently cursed this fact, unable to make clear much of what Lyla was doing. Her words weren't making any sense, still sounding as though they were under the influence of fatigue. It hadn't even registered to Kenley that, while he had heard Llyr's name before, it hadn't been her own name, garbled in grogginess. She was really out of it, but there was something else gnawing at her... Kenley just couldn't figure out what.

He hadn't expected her to pull away from him in the way she did; he hadn't realized the extent of her upset, but caught the edge with her refusal. As he stood back fully upright, a means to pull himself away slightly in reaction to her own retreat, he stiffened at her violent, ill reaction. If he could have paled any more than his natural pallor would have allowed, it would have been glaringly obvious about now. Gah! She really is sick! Had she been in such a state since they last met? Had she only gotten worse? His knowledge of actual poison affliction was next to null, despite the fact it had unwittingly been his fault to begin with, in a way. There was no way she could make it back to camp in the condition she was in now! How'd she even make it out this far!?

Before he could move to say as much, he jolted at Lyla's more coherent, barbed response. Thunderstruck, it nevertheless took him a moment to properly realize what she was saying, even if he still was unable to connect two-and-two together. "Why would--?" his reply came as reaction, but the words were caught roughly; this was the same sort of train of thought as...

Kenley took a step forward, but stopped himself as she told him to leave her alone. He hesitated a moment, glancing down and catching the corner of her book, gripped in his other hand. The hesitation nearly rooted him in place, but her words hit too hard in a way that he didn't quite understand. Lyla's words may have been sharp, but there was something buried under them... they sounded too final in their depression. Setting the book in the grass at the foot of a tree, he ignored her command and followed after her. "Lyla!" he called after her again, much more decidedly. Stop putting on such a brave face if you're hurting so much!

It took little effort to catch up with the measly space Lyla had put between them, but he still stopped short of reaching her. She was injured in more ways than one, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make any of it worse. Well... any worse than he had already managed to do, at least. "...What happened?" he asked carefully; something had obviously led to this that Kenley was not made fully aware of. He'd have asked why she would have thought he'd do something like that if it wasn't for the fact that he had made such horrible impressions previously... Seeing her shudder and try to keep moving even caused Kenley to wince. "Stop it," he nearly demanded, wrapping his arms around her in an unexpected hug, "You're not going anywhere in that condition." You can always leave once you're feeling better, but stop trying to kill yourself! His grip on her was not tight, for fear of doing more harm than good, but so many varied fears were cropping up at the moment that he refused to let go.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Lyla had appeared altogether too shaky and nervous to begin with, her actions to shrink away from Kenley as he called out to her would have hurt him more, made him hesitate more. It was never, ever his intention to harm anyone; maybe to scare, but considering most people didn't actually cry about that to indicate emotional damage, that didn't seem to play much of a factor normally. No, her words held more of an impact than that at the moment, cutting through her disorientation and becoming more clearly understood. Llyr? Wasn't that her brother?

As much as he wanted to hold on tighter as she pushed her away, he didn't want to cause more harm than she was already experiencing, and his grip loosened momentarily although he didn't move from where he stood. The faintest of flinches came from Lyla's reaction to some pain in her hand, and he took mental note to check the injury out if she stayed. For now, though, he just wanted to get her to settle down. The abnormal rise in heat from her hand was evident, even though his armor of silk, but Lyla felt too warm all over right now. She was sick and injured, and this amount of stress coming from whatever her brother had done certainly couldn't have been helping matters!

He fidgeted to catch her as it appeared like she might fall over. In fact, he seemed to grasp tighter to her shirt when she told him to release her, but it wasn't obvious if it was purely out of defiance or a shock response. He wanted to argue against the points she was making, but he knew it was important to hold his tongue and just listen, otherwise he might miss his chance to find out what was going on; Kenley may have been confused, but at least he was in his right frame of mind! It didn't help that the teen could... honestly agree with some of what Llyr had said about Lyla, but that didn't mean it was a bad thing, per se -- most of the people he had ever run into could be classified under any number of those categories as well, himself included. But nobody liking her? Llyr had actually said that? How much of what Lyla was feeling, physical and mental, had been Llyr's doing?

"Stabbed?" he tensed at the word. Of course, being the literal-minded individual at the moment, his first inclination was to believe it had something to do with a knife, but either way, it couldn't have been good. One of his arms flinched, the silk wrappings of the cocoon catching at the dried blood at the back of her shirt and causing him to freeze; he was pretty sure he knew what that texture meant, but he was trying not to freak out. Telling himself not to, and actually doing so? Two totally different things. "W-What all did he do to you?" the silcoon couldn't hide the creeping panic. Lyla wasn't dying, was she!?

Lyla's following question didn't help to stem Kenley's frantic mind, and neither did her near fainting spell, catching her under her upper pair of arms. "Nnh! C-Come on, Lyla, let's get you lying down," he was practically narrating what he was doing instead of giving proper instruction, the girl feeling much too limp to do much to help, or resist. Carefully, he eased her down to rest against the trunk of the nearest tree. Once she didn't look like she was going to tilt herself off the side of the base of the tree, Kenley wasted no time in grabbing the hand of hers that seemed to be giving her the most problems. Well that... didn't look good. How was he supposed to treat that? What was causing such a bad reaction? "What happened?" Kenley asked again, indicating the palm of her hand. With a start, he remembered that wasn't the only injury she possibly had, but he didn't want to move her too much unless it was urgent to, "And your back... how's your back feel?" He was not a medic. He was nowhere close to being familiar with the basics of first aid!

As Lyla explained what had happened only earlier that night, Kenley's attention was focused onto any little bit of information he could coax out of her, especially with how much of an effort she had to put forth in order to do so. So Llyr had abused her, both physically and emotionally? What had gotten into the guy to make him do such a thing, after not having seen Lyla for so long? He couldn't understand the callousness when it was obvious she had cared so deeply about the one she could freely call a brother, who grew with her under the hardships of a trainer who only used them to further his own ideals, who was there for him when the worst had befallen the one he cared the most for. Lyla had never stopped worrying, never stopped caring... Llyr couldn't have hoped for more devotion from anyone! What was he thinking, to just throw all that away? It wasn't even selfishness, it was pure stupidity!

He hesitated as he saw the tears, a terror like a cold snap hitting his blood. Lyla just... didn't seem like the type to cry. More than the ailment, seeing her in that amount of distress when she was usually so strong-willed and bold was alarming. He was lost a moment until he flinched, remembering he was still there and should probably do something. Squeezing the fingers of her injured hand a little, away enough from the injury itself not to cause further harm, he moved to clarify, "So this... you're poisoned?" H-How was he supposed to fix that!? It was a wonder Lyla was even still conscious! Another thought cut into his mind there as well: how did it affect these bodies, as opposed to their previous forms, if she already looked like death?

It had to be a reaction that spurred his movements on, for as Lyla pulled her hands from her face in misery, his hesitation lost its hold and Kenley reached out to wipe away the tears that remained. "There's no reason to apologize. It's not like you could have anticipated what happened," he complained, though his words lacked the bitterness. Tugging at her sleeve lightly, his attention remained to the examination phase before he would allow the panic to really set fully; that could come after he realized how little he could help overall. He kept his voice quiet, which helped to cover some of that apprehension with calculation, "Can I see your back? Is that okay?" He wasn't even really sure if she was able to move very well, she seemed rather dizzy. Likely a few other symptoms as well, but he didn't want to ask too many questions when she was already struggling so much.

It was encouraging to see Lyla smile, even if it was a bit forced through all the pain and nausea, but Kenley couldn't return it. The way that Lyla was bad-mouthing herself, belittling all that she was capable of, was really grating on him. Paired with the shot nerves of his panic, he was more than a little on edge, and his tone couldn't hide the worry through his otherwise common grumbling, "Kind of hard to be careful when you're hurt and upset! It wasn't your fault, so cut it out." He was fully intent on laying the blame on Llyr instead.

As she glanced up at him from the action he chose to take, his hand still outstretched, he realized how red her eyes had gotten. She'd been crying for a while now, hadn't she? If it wasn't for the fact it was so dark currently, he would have cursed the fact that he hadn't noticed it before, resulting in the delayed realization. As he pulled his hand back, he also realized just how doe-eyed her brown eyes appeared, and his own eyes averted briefly as he felt a bit of an internal tug. She could probably get anyone to do what she wanted, looking that adorable...

Once Lyla made the move to turn around, Kenley held his hand out at the ready, in case she needed to steady herself better. As soon as her back was within view, he tilted himself a bit to get a better look through the dim light of the early morning sky. It was obvious she was having difficulty, so he grabbed hold of the wrist that Lyla was using to try to lift up the back part of her shirt and carefully pulled it up to get a better look. "Yeah... it's definitely bruised. Broke the skin some, too," he winced, "And... this was because you were pushed?" His fingers brushed against a strangely upraised part of her skin, above the visible injury where he was holding the fabric of her shirt steady. With a frown, he tried to get a better look, tracing the older scar, "Hey... how did you get this one?" Had this happened before?

Kenley's attention momentarily flicked upward before going back to examine Lyla's injury as she tried to locate the book she had dropped. She was mumbling again, though... that fever must have been getting rather uncomfortable to try to think with. But... wait a minute... "Berry book? You mean like the one you were looking for before?" His eyes grew wide, and he slipped off to the tree where he had set it and began flipping through the pages, "Like the ones that can cure poison?" She should have said something about that before! He brought it over and laid it down in the grass to her side to show that she still had it in her possession, but he was still flipping through it himself for the curative berries she had mentioned in her prior visit. Maybe he really did have a chance to help her out!

His mind was frantic, trying to locate it before Lyla ended up fainting from the damage, but her discouraged words did not go unnoticed. She was alone at camp now? At a time like this? There was a momentary flinch at his shoulders, but Kenley knew that it was best to focus on one problem at a time. Physical ailments first...

As much as he hoped Lyla actually meant those accepting words, Kenley had a feeling she was only agreeing with him to change the subject... and stew on it later. He almost said something about it, but he sighed softly in defeat, knowing it was very likely she wouldn't be able to fully assimilate what he wanted to say anyway. Not that he could be mad at her for it, at all, but it wasn't out of the question to feel just a little exasperated, even through all the fear.

He jerked back slightly as the young ledyba confirmed that the older mark was likely from her previous trainer's abuse. He couldn't describe the emotion that he felt, but he was already regretting having mentioned the scar, and an inexplicable anger was welling up on the horizon. Kenley couldn't help but think of the time he had to explain backstabbing to her, but this seemed a little too literal! The correlations made the realization feel more like a physical hit to his own system and he pulled away, letting Lyla's shirt drop back into place. He didn't want to answer Lyla's request for clarification, quietly growling as he pulled away. Did everyone close to Lyla treat her so horribly!? No... no he had to focus on the here-and-now, not dwell on past misgivings. Bottling anger wasn't Kenley's strong suit, but he could manage for now.

The girl's tone, even through her gradually increasing daze, was not lost on Kenley, even if he was refocusing his attentions to the more important matters at hand. Interestingly enough, his panic seemed to help strengthen that effort more effectively, intent on keeping things from spiraling too far out of hand. Lyla was depressed, sure, but there was only so much that could be done at present; he'd go down a list, if he had to, but life-and-death matters were a little higher priority! That didn't mean he wasn't listening, quite the contrary, but his responses were tucked away, replaced with his search for the right berry through the numerous pages of Lyla's encyclopedia. In his rifling, the silcoon nearly tore one of the pages as Lyla pointed out the image of the one she remembered, anxiety acting as puppeteer to his nerves. "Ah!" he exclaimed, pulling it up to quickly read over the description, double-checking she wasn't mistaken through her delirium. His eyes went wide at a realization, turning his head in the direction that seemed the most familiar, "I think I've actually seen these before, but I didn't think..."

No time for explanation. Hastily, he closed the book and tucked it back under his arm, moving to stand back to full height. He hesitated a moment before he got that far, however, and stumbled to sit back down. Setting the book back down for a moment, he gingerly grabbed hold of one of Lyla's upper arms to lead her back to lie down in a more comfortable position. "Hey, Lyla? I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to go get you something that'll make you feel better. I'll only be gone a moment, alright?" his words made a careful effort, but he couldn't completely negate the fear that tinged them. Once Kenley was sure she was settled, he was back to his feet, book in hand for conformation purposes, and already on his way. Before he got too far, he glanced back again, a slight frown on his face, "And I mean it. I'm coming back, you hear?" She didn't have to feel so utterly alone.

Lyla's swiftly deteriorating condition almost rooted Kenley to staying with her, if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it wouldn't do any good -- she wouldn't be alone, but she also wouldn't be getting any better. Waiting for the effects to wear off on their own was not an option. As the girl drifted off, Kenley locked his jaw and tried not to snap at her to wake up. As frightening as the condition was, it didn't kill pokémon... the rest might even do her some good.

Nevertheless, the silcoon found himself biting at the silk wrappings about his fingers again as he made his way back to his tree to gather a couple supplies, the action a welcome, if measly, distraction to the fear. She needed the berries to cure her ailment, but she was way too warm to be comfortable, and it was probably only adding to her disorientation. As he reached that home pillar, he made quick work in retrieving the canteen that Lyla had left him on their first meeting and a knife he had found a few weeks ago. Locating the spare shirt he wasn't currently wearing, he cut a sleeve off of it, folding it up and placing it in his pocket to use as a washcloth, as the ledyba had done previously as well. He might not have been the best at first aid, but at least he was fully capable of learning from the past. Sliding the knife into his belt at the side, he descended the tree and made his way to where he had last seen the berries shown within the pages of Lyla's book.

He was lucky it hadn't taken the teen more time to find the bushes he had been hoping to, for it had been quite some time since he had last seen them. While Kenley wasn't necessarily bad at using his sense of direction, he didn't often get to utilize it. Pulling the book back open, he double-checked that it was the correct type of berry before attempting to remove the branch. As much as he hated to disassemble a bush like this, it would take much longer than he wanted to take in order to pull enough berries off where they grew.

With the branch in hand, carrying probably three times as berries as was really needed, he made a quick retreat to the river. It seemed a rather roundabout way to go about it, but it was difficult to carry around a wet washcloth (or a makeshift one) if one wasn't going to use it right away. Filling the canteen and soaking the piece of fabric, he hurried back to where Lyla was likely still unconscious.

Or, at least, that's what he was trying to do. It wasn't until he nearly collided with the butterfree did he notice the guy was even there, and even then, his mind was scrambling for the proper response. Normal instincts would tell Kenley to boot him out of this forest -- his territory -- and think better of doing it again. Right now, all he wanted to do was push past the other teen to get to his ultimate destination, and get Lyla feeling better as soon as possible. He didn't hear the grumblings that Llyr had growled just prior, and as such, did not link the correlations as quickly as he could have. Kenley offered a bit of a scowl, twisted by a wince in his haste, "Err, excuse me, could you just--" It was then that his eyes fell on the bow in the butterfree's hands. Lyla had been complaining about having dropped one earlier that day, and to be honest, he'd never seen anyone else stroll around with one. His eyes grew wide at the realization, and he took a step back with the surprise, hand tightening on the scrap of wet fabric, "You're... Llyr?"