He spent three hours blindly fighting his way though a cave system, fending off an absurd number of Golbat and trying to keep himself from getting turned around before he had even the slightest amount of luck... if one could call encountering the Diamond Warden ‘lucky’. While it had culminated in some helpful information, Emmet hesitated to call it a positive encounter; he worried that perhaps his brother wasn’t here, either, if Melli’s ranting and the cave’s extinguished torches were anything to go by.

 

But he was already here, and now that he had directions to the Templeside Arena and its adjoining campsite, he may as well investigate.

 

The first sign that he was on the right track were what seemed, to the best of his knowledge, species that weren’t native to this part of the Coronet Highlands. There was a Machamp halfheartedly fighting a much-worn practice dummy, an Alakazam hovering in meditation that opened one eye at his approach, and then did a double-take, and a Tangrowth languidly sorting through a variety of limp flowers. All of them were suspiciously evolved, given the methods required and their proximity to one another-- certainly not a gathering of wild Pokemon.

 

The Tangrowth sat up straighter as he neared the tent it was camped out next to, abandoning its sets of flowers to reach a vine out to him and grab the end of his coat; he humored it as it shook the fabric. When it seemed satisfied with whatever test it was running, it blinked at him, warbled, and settled back in place but, noticeably, didn’t go back to its original distraction.

 

There were a great number of eyes on him-- even more if he counted the nearby Magnezone and Probopass-- though none of the Pokemon made to intercept as he laid a hand on the tent’s door.

 

Half a second after stepping through the threshold, Emmet wondered if it actually was any better inside, in that regard. While there were fewer Pokemon to stare at him in here, it was made up for with the intensity of the Gliscor’s glare. It chattered his way, clearly scolding him, and shuffled minutely in place.

 

Somewhat unwisely, he took a step closer. It growled in return, and only stopped when something jostled it from below with a pathetic, muffled cough.

 

And there it was: the reason Emmet had dared to draw nearer, in spite of the defensive predator mantling over the bed. He was not the only human present. The other was visible only through the shroud of a blanket, any glimpse of their upper half hidden beneath the angry bat who’d been so thoughtful as to greet him.

 

Said Gliscor continued to stare at him in reproach, but didn’t make any further noises.

 

“It is alright,” He told it, voice low in lieu of any false inflection, “I am not here to hurt anyone. Are you protecting your trainer? Are they functioning properly?”

 

Its eyes flickered, uncertain, toward a small pile of offerings on the floor. There were a number of berries beginning to shrivel, a couple of the flowers from Tangrowth’s collection-- all completely withered-- and, among them, one very dry looking rice ball. Emmet wasn’t sure what any of it was meant to accomplish, but had to trust that the contributing Pokemon were motivated by some kind of logic.

 

After several second’s worth of consideration, the Gliscor ducked its head, burying its face into the flash of silver beneath and emerging just enough to keep an eye on Emmet.

 

He took another cautious step forward. “I am Emmet. You have been trying verrrry hard to take care of your trainer. I believe I can assist.” Its ears flicked; he inched forward again, “Can you help me in return? I am looking for my brother. We are identical. Twins. And we were separated a verrry long time ago.”

 

Gliscor rumbled around the clump of hair it was nibbling on and, without ever tearing its eyes away from Emmet, slowly drew a wing back. There was a weak hiss of protest, a shiver clear in the stuttering exhalation that followed, and Gliscor squeaked, hurrying to right itself.

 

It was a short window, but there was nothing wrong with that. They both wanted the same thing when it came down to it, right?

 

Emmet could play caretaker. He could handle Ingo being sick or injured. So long as his twin was actually here, he would be fine, and would ensure both of their well being.

 

“Good job.” He told Gliscor, once the bat had settled itself sufficiently, “You have done a verrry good job.”

 

---

 

Perhaps soothed by the fact that this strange new human hadn’t attacked in the night, Gliscor seemed comfortable enough to leave the tent the next morning, to hunt and properly stretch its wings. Chandelure gleefully took the opportunity to channel her emotions into thermal energy and steadily increased the tent’s temperature until Emmet was forced to ask her, quite literally, to cool it.

 

It was early afternoon by the time Ingo dragged himself to some degree of awareness, visibly trying to figure out where Gliscor had gone.

 

He was almost immediately confronted with seventy five pounds of lamp in his face, which would have been a lot to wake up to, even on a good day. Emmet tried to coax Chandelure away, but, at the same time, found it hard to blame her when all he wanted was to follow a similar track.

 

There was a glazed look to Ingo’s eyes as he absently pet Chandelure’s globe-- something distinct from the haze of fever-- and it only intensified as his attention skirted up, toward the only other human in the tent.

 

He was getting overwhelmed. That was understandable, considering how out of it he’d been the last time he’d been forced to take sick leave; he’d woken expecting his Gliscor and, instead, been met with two uninvited guests.

 

Ingo managed an odd, mostly-soundless croak as Emmet eased Chandelure away, coughing feebly into his opposite elbow as his twin propped him up to get a drink. It was one of those illnesses, then. In the past, there had been something comedic about his human megaphone of a sibling being silenced, albeit tempered by how poorly he felt. Here and now, combined with the fact that he’d been left to weather this on his own, bereft of any human assistance, it was just sad.

 

“I am Emmet,” Emmet announced as he stepped away, letting Ingo ease back onto his side, “I will help you recover. Do not worry.”

 

Though without a whisper of sound, he recognized the shape of his name as Ingo echoed it.

 

He smoothed a hand over the topmost blanket and nodded. “Yep. I am Emmet. I am here.”