Two whumpees who have lived through the same trauma together. Not all of it, but just the most recent stretches of time before Caretaker meets them. Caretaker knows of their shared history, that it’s complicated, and that the Whumpees are likely dependent on each other.
One thing that caretaker didn’t expect though, was the quiet, or outright silence from both of them. Whether it was forced upon them, or they’re just naturally quiet, Caretaker has no idea. There’s hushed whispers or subtle communication between Caretakers back, but when Caretaker attempts to join in they just get fearful stares.
So, caretaker does what they can to make both whumpees comfortable. Despite the fact that it’s near impossible to meet the needs of those who don’t express them, much less know what upsets them or triggers their trauma.
Cue one of the Whumpees accidentally getting triggered, worse than Caretaker has seen previously. Caretaker is about to swoop in and try to deescalate the situation but the other whumpee steps in, calming their friend down with whispers so soft that Caretaker had to strain to hear them.
The first time Csretaker hears their voice and it’s soothing whispers and reminders that “it’s over now. You’re okay.”
Just something about the tragedy of only hearing a person speak when they’re comforting someone else.
