WMMAP - [S1] Shelter You - (愛)してる

[Revelation]: Oneiroi's Omen

She prepared a cup of tea, a gift, that she'd cultivated in the kitchen board, stirring their essence into a caustic elixir—the liquid glowing faintly within the mortar hold. She set aside the teapot and raised the cup to the air, taking all the epitome.

Then, without hesitation, she pressed the cup to her lips.

The pain wrapped around her throat. She could utter a single word. Everything burned. She convulsed in misery, she retched and coughed as the poison flowed through her body.

"Jennette..." His lips quivered, though his voice was firm and calm. Anastasius rushed downstairs.

Rushing to her aid, lifted his daughter from the ground. "You are fine, Kiddo. You are going to be alright. I'm here. You're okay."

Her eyes may stay open, but her vision was lost. She stopped struggling. Her body went limp, sprawled in his arms. 

"Jennette." He chanted her name over and over as she grew quiet. "Talk to me."

He let out a gasp as his eyes shot open, at the same time as the thunder roared, silencing his agony. His chest heaved as he panted heavily. He felt a shudder run down his body as another roar rumbled in the dark. As his vision became clearer, he could hear the splashing sound on the window, and he could finally recognize the room.

It was Jennette's. The storm raged on. But the flash of lightning helped him understand that whatever happened was just a dream.

"Dream can be deceiving... Illusions are meant to deceive and confuse..." He muttered to himself, almost like chanting a spell in the dark. "Dear Phobetor, have mercy on me..."

On the armchair, he sat, away from the king-size bed of his daughter. He looked at the desk, filled with paperwork, scattered, and unfinished on the desk. He was in no mood to finish it.

Mopping his hair backward, he noticed how drenched it was, from his own sweat. Anastasius let out a deep sigh and stood up. His warm feet touched the cold tiles. He walked straight to the restroom, splashing water all over his face, refreshing, blinking away the dream, forcing away the lingering pictures.

Walking toward the bed - the bed that was far too big for her little frame, but he insisted. He stole a glance at the sleeping girl. She was breathing, struggling, as she was fighting away her fever.

Rolling up his sleeves, Anastasius grabbed the bowl and the cloth. He drenched the fabric and squeezed out excess water, replaced the old fabric then placed the damped cloth on top of his daughter's forehead. 

After a while, he sat down by her side, stroking her hair - inherited from her mother. Somehow, her expression softened over time. 

-

"Are you all set, Milady?"

"I don't like these shoes..." Athanasia said while wobbling on her heels. She almost tripped but Felix was there to offer a hand that she could cling on.

"Perhaps we should switch to your usual comfort footwear first? It's going to be a long ride after all."

"Thank you— Wowie Felix! You are so handsome!" Athanasia said in awe, clearly impressed with Felix's dress code.

He couldn't hide his blush nor could he stop himself from laughing sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head.

"Thank You, Milady. You look very stunning yourself."

Felix would normally have his semi-casual clothing on. It was either to avoid getting noticed by people out there or to blend in with the crowd. Or to save his own life. Merely a plain shirt wasn't enough to hide his charm. Especially to the single women out there.