𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕯𝖊𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 3: 𝔄 𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫(𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2)

A soft noon breeze enters the room.

Bright streaks of the mid-day sun shines through the half-covered blinds as they make their way to iluminate the dreary atmosphere.

Espresso cookie slowly opens his eyes, rubbing them as he tries to shake off his drowsiness. He looks around, and all he can see is white.  He is in an unfamiliar room, its color scheme being pure white, which irritates his eyes due to the brightness.

A plain, white door serving as the entrance to his room is on his left side, on the wall infront of him, allowing unwanted visitors to enter. His cannon, seeming recently cleaned and polished,  is leaned up against the wall, right next to the door. Its silver etchings glistening with the light from the window.

A small, white bed-side table is propped up on the left side of his also pure white bed. A silver bowl of fresh fruits consisting of apples, bananas, and oranges, your typical type of fruit bowl, is placed neatly on the surface, along with a lamp, his glasses, and a neatly folded hankerchief. He turns his head to the right, and he is seen with two white chairs, situated near the wall parallel to the window, a circular coffee table in front of the chairs, and right next to his bed is a tall post, on the top, a small medical bag of what seems to be a type of healing liquid is hooked on. He cannot accurately specify the words written on the bag, but he makes it out to be Magic healing milk. A long, thin, and transparent wire attached to the bottom of the bag, trailing down the pole and going back up torwards the bed, leading and finally comming to a stop at his right wrist, the wire stopping right above his palm.

He looks torwards the window. 'It's noon.' He thinks to himself. The sky is a bright, cloudless blue, and the sun shines brightly. He can hear the faint sound of people talking below.

He looks down at himself.

He's laying down on a bed with clean, white sheets, it's soft and comfortable, and his body lays it's imprint upon the mattress. A soft, fluffy pillow stays behind him, his head's shape still on its surface.

Espresso cookie was shirtless. Instead of his usual attire, a white bandage was wrapped around his chest, stopping right at his left shoulder.

Out of instinct he lifted his blanket, and was relieved to find that he had something covering his lower parts. He was wearing white pants and his legs also had bandages.

He reached out to the table beside his bed and took his glasses, wiping them on the bedsheets and wearing them, upon which, he was able to get a better view of his room.

It appeared to be a hospital room.

'Whoever designed this establishment's architecture, must have had a liking to the color white...'
Espresso cookie thought.

He stayed silent in his room, thinking about leaving, finding his clothes, and returning to the academy. He attempts to get up, his legs turning out to be incredibly sore from lack of use.

'How long have i been asleep?' He asks himself.

He lifts himself to the left side of his bed, and lays his legs over the bed.

He winces in pain as he turns his torso to get a good hold on the table and tries to get up, failing miserably and falling back to the bed frame with a resounding 'thud', the bed slightly creaking under his weight.

A sound of frustration mixed with signs of pain leaves his mouth, as he attempts to stand up one more time.

This time, he was able to come out successful and could get off the bed. alhtough he had a limp and his walking speed was reduced greatly.

'I suppose i won't be able to run in a while.'

He limped torwards the window, shielding his eyes as he looked outside. There were numerous cookies walking around, a few of them bearing doctor's coats, some appearing to be nurses, and a few of them in wheelchairs.