The Epic of Cynthia

Chapter 3 - Eternally Connected

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or these characters.

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Carolina Shirona was a wise woman. She knew that with time, wounds and scars healed or faded, and that you would learn from the experiences that had led to said injuries. But she would never have expected Cynthia to earn such a large, gaping wound from the loss of a friend she had known for barely a day. She had no clue how long that wound would take to heal.

Carolina sighed at she gently pushed open the door of Cynthia's room, revealing the girl sitting there, head in her hands, as she stared out the window towards Mt. Coronet. Empty bowls of food lay scattered on her desk, ignored by the gloomy girl.
"Cynthia, you need to get out of the house." Carolina said softly. "It's been a week, and you haven't moved from this room the entire time. Get some exercise."

Cynthia continued to stare out the window, only displaying her acknowledgement of her grandmother's words through a meagre thumbs up.
"You could check up on him today. See if he wants to become a functioning member of society again." Carolina said. This earned her a frustrated glare from Cynthia, before she turned back to the window.

"He never changes! He's stuck drowning in misery and self pity, and he seems intent on bringing as many people as possible to his level!" Cynthia said, a tone of disgust in her voice. Her outburst was placated by her grandmother's hands coming to rest on her shoulders.
"But you still love him, don't you?" Carolina said softly.
"Of course I do, it's just difficult."
"Good. Then go check up on him."

Cynthia breathed in and out, keeping her feelings in check, before looking through her window to examine a house at the edge of the village.
"Fine. I'll go see dad."

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Cynthia knocked lightly on the rotting wooden door, huddling further into her coat for warmth as a light snow fell upon the village. The house she stood outside of looked like it had been abandoned. Paint was peeling off the walls, and cobwebs and dust had gathered along the support beams of the veranda. The door creaked open, and Cynthia focused her attention on the person who stood inside the house.

Dirty, uncut blond hair was strewn around him, giving the appearance that a weirdly coloured Tangela was sitting on his head. His silver eyes stared apathetically into Cynthia's own silver eyes. A mouldy singlet sat on his hairy chest and stomach, not fitting him due to the large beer gut that jutted out from his body. He grimly smiled at the sight of Cynthia, his large yellow teeth illuminating his face.

"Cynthia Cynthia Cynthia. Finally came to say hi your old man?" He leered, before opening another beer can.
"Yes, I have. Can we go inside to get away from the coldness outside?" She asked, attempting to establish some etiquette.
"Yeah, yeah, scamper on in you little runt." He growled, dashing Cynthia's hopes of a potentially pleasant encounter.

The living room was just as unkept as the man that lived in it. Beer cans and bottles laid strewn across the floor, empty of anything except the filthy scent that seemed to linger on anything the man touched. A broken lightbulb sat in the ceiling light, looking like it hadn't been fixed in years. The only light that illuminated the room was the fluorescent glow of the TV, with a generic  gameshow playing on it's screen.

"So, what brought you here kid." He said, slumping back into the worn chair.
"I just came to check up on you." Cynthia responded,
"Heh. How considerate of you."
Cynthia rolled her eyes and tossed away a shrivelled candy wrapper lying on her chair.
"I don't have time for your antics. Do you want me to go?" She got up and started to head towards the door, already fed up of the person lounging in the tattered armchair.

"Sure, leave. Ignore me and the help of getting that weight off your back." Cynthia stopped in her tracks, and turned wide eyes to stare at her.
"You can't help me. You never will." She firmly stated.
"Oh, but I can dear, I can." He said, a large grin beginning to spread on his face as he rose from his chair.