Emmet has no clue what dictates their broken telepathy, but whatever is at the control panel turns that switch again roughly one week after he’d last heard from Ingo. At that time, his brother had been dealing with [idk], and, for a second, he wonders if that was still an ongoing problem. Then the actual words register.

“Is this normal for me? Did… I just forget?”

Ah. It’s another one of those days. Sympathy pangs in his chest, but there’s nothing to be done; he wishes so badly that there was. It’s difficult to hear and, he suspects, worse to live through.

The pang redoubles, and he’s briefly taken off guard.

“Worrying again? I suppose it’s difficult not to when one has so much on his plate. Hopefully [idk] has been resolved, at least; that would give him some breathing room.”  It’s followed by a pause, and the impression of a heavy sigh, “What in Sinnoh’s name is that?”

Emmet disregards that last part, unable to move past the allusion to [w/e]. There was no reason for that to follow the line of [thought]– if Ingo was responding to his thoughts, and he’d been reacting to Ingo’s…

“Can you hear me?”  He asks, urgent and anticipatory.

There’s a puzzled psychic silence, followed eventually by, “…what?”

“Yes or no, Ingo. Can you hear me?”

“Yes…?”

Without meaning to, he laughs aloud, triumphant. [?] spares him a look, but quickly goes back to work.

“I did not trigger any change in our connection. Did you do something to alter it? Whatever it was. Don’t do it again.”

“I was just making the rounds, so I’m uncertain what could have happened. I– I’ll endeavor not to reverse on the tracks, but given the circumstances…”  Ingo doesn’t follow up on what his circumstance entails, opting, instead for, “You consider this normal, then? Do we speak like this often?”

“Always. We’ve been connected our entire lives.”  Emmet says instantly, and the reality that he canfinallyhelp is overwhelming. There are so many things he wants to confirm, to clarify or correct, but for now, he has to understand what’s going on. “Can you elaborate on the complication you’ve encountered?”

“Our entire lives…”  Ingo repeats, and, briefly, Emmet gets a vague sense of his whirling thoughts, but with their link back in working order, it’s not the bombardment it could have been, “Pardon me. Yes, I believe that would be mutually beneficial; you will be able to tell me if something is out of the ordinary, correct?”

He can only hope the [hesitation] doesn’t come across as he says, “As they pertain to the both of us, yes. I can. If you are referring to Hisui. Then no.”

“That’s… precisely what I meant to ask you about. Do I make a habit of falling into a new station every few years?”

“…No?”

There’s a short, “Ah.”

“Is that what happened? You fell and landed in Hisui?”

“I’m unable to say how I arrived in Hisui with any certainty.” / “However, that is how I landed… uh, here.”

“You… do not know where you are. It is not within Hisui?”  He barely waits for the negative before going on to [say] “Describe your surroundings to me.”

“I stepped out of a cave.”  Ingo says, and that much at least, he [says] with a confidence that quickly abandons him, “It appears to be a settlement, though far larger than anything I’ve ever seen. There seems to be some manner of… thing sunning itself on the stone walkways? It resembles a Garchomp in the very loosest sense.”

“I see.”  Emmet lies, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are there any landmarks beyond this ‘thing’?”

“There’s a spire in the distance.”  He returns after a moment, and there are so many famous towers across the world it’s impossible to say– for all Emmet knows, his brother could be looking at Johto’s Tin Tower– but then he adds, “This is going to sound rather ridiculous, but I believe some of these houses are made of glass.”

“Please,” Emmet thinks without moderating himself, already out of his chair and waving [?] off. To Ingo, mentally [waving off] the confusion his outburst incited, he asks,“You mentioned something sunning itself on a walkway. Is there a building at the track’s end?”

“The glass ones, yes.”

“At the other end.”

“Yes, there is.”

He turns his head and stifles relieved sob into his elbow, running blind for several steps. Fortunately, no echo of it comes across in their conversation, “Good. I want you to enter that building and ask for Skyla. Ideally, you will stay there. But if she has reason to take you elsewhere, relay her directions and follow them.”

Though they haven’t spoken in [timeframe?] Emmet can still read the discussion’s flow and, before Ingo settles on a particular set of words, he says, “Wait for me. I will be there as soon as I am able.”

[There’s a vague affirmative, wondering re: the plane– he’s told Emmet will explain later, or he can ask Skyla about it]

He steps onto the first west-bound train through the station; it only takes him so far as Driftveil, but that will be enough. Already, he’s working on how to get through the next two stops as fast as humanly possible, humoring the stray thoughts that make it his way, and Ingo’s continuing sense of bafflement. A minute and thirty seconds into the commute, he receives a breathless call from Skyla.

“You need to get over here right now, Emmet.” She says immediately and, after a second’s consideration, follows it up with, “Hi.”

He tilts his head and angles his Xtransceiver to show the interior of the car he’s riding, “I am already on my way.”

“You’re Emmet.”  He hears at the back of his head. It’s less an epiphany, and more two cabs of thought that, while linked for some time, have only just departed together.

“I am! You spent a verrrrry long time trying to remember me.” / “Thank you. I know it was not easy.”

He catches the barest hint of something self-deprecating in reply, and immediately throws it out of the conversation.

The real world [conversation] he’s having continues as Skyla opens her mouth as if to protest what seems, to her, a coincidence, but catches herself midway there, “Your weird twin thing’s back?”

In the background there’s a [?] “We’re twins?” which prompts a grimace from Skyla as she turns to look his way, “Lords, Ingo, what happened to you?”

Emmet is unfazed by the question; Ingo had struggled to recall his name, so how was he meant to remember the exact nature of their relation? The important thing is that he had cared enough to wrest the foggy half-memories free in the first place.

That’s not to say Emmet is completely unmoved, however. It’s the first time in [timeframe] he’s heard his brother’s voice aloud, and it kickstarts [???]; he presses the heel of his free hand against his eyes, dabbing away any evidence.