Quest for the Eighty-Eight Keys

Chapter Twenty-Two: Three Hit Dice

WARNING: MENTIONS OF PREVIOUS PANIC ATTACK AND GAMBLING!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freed walked behind Lucy, his eyes skimming the doors they passed by, but mostly watching the people around them. Something in him was telling him to shield Lucy from any man or woman who even attempted to look at her in any manner. He looked toward Lucy, seeing that she had wrapped her arms around herself, as if uncomfortable. It irritated him. He rested a hand on the hilt of his rapier and stuffed his other hand in his pocket, an attempt to stop himself from taking her into his arms and soothing her.

Perhaps she was bothered by the possibility that people were staring at her judgingly due to her previous breakdown. He wouldn't blame her. He grimaced as he remembered when Lucy suddenly had what he could only guess was a panic attack. What had caused it, he was unable to figure out. Nothing had happened that could have caused such a reaction in her, unless she saw something that caused it. But, what could that be?

Freed gave a silent sigh. He made a note to look into panic attacks and educate himself on what to do in the event that it happened again. He didn't like not being able to do anything earlier. When he heard Lucy fall to the floor, he could only stand there and watch as she seemed to break down, Loke and Tucana needing to summon themselves in order to help her.

He remembered that Tucana had used one of Lucy's keys to help. What purpose did that serve? Grounding? Tucana had used her Rainbow Fire Magic to chill it, he knew that, so maybe the coldness of the key was used to bring Lucy out of her panicked mind. As he watched Lucy on the floor, he was frozen, wanting to help, but not knowing how to. After the fact, he had silently cursed at himself, ashamed of himself for doing nothing. He had never felt more useless before in his life, and he hated it passionately. He was in love with Lucy, for Heaven's sake! How could he do nothing to help her?

The rune mage's sea-green eyes moved toward Rufus, seeing that the blonde man was subtly gazing down at Lucy with a serene smile. He furrowed his brow as his eyes narrowed in a glare. Just before Lucy's attack, he noticed that Rufus had pulled her against himself. Freed was tempted to pull her away and toward himself, maybe even give Rufus a good punch in the process, but he refrained from doing so due to the inability to conjure an excuse in the event that Lucy would ask for his reason for suddenly pulling her toward him and punching Rufus.

The want to punch Rufus returned to Freed as he continued to glare at him. The blonde man, certainly feeling the glare on him, turned to look back at Freed and swapped his serene smile for a smug smirk. Freed tightened his hold on the hilt of his rapier and balled his other fist inside of his pocket. Resisting the urge to wipe that smirk off of the memory-make mage's face was proving difficult to do. He turned his head away, hoping that not looking at him would help.

Freed's eyes quickly found their way to Midnight, who was walking in front of Lucy. What was his reason for being here? Why did he decide to join them? Surely he had a reason beyond simply wanting to help. Was he too in love with Lucy? Is that why he joined them? Freed's gut turned at that thought. He made a note to keep an eye on not just Rufus, but Midnight as well.

He looked around at his surroundings again, grimacing at the sight of people drinking and partaking in a variety of smoked drugs. He was never one to drink regularly, much less even entertain the idea of taking any kind of drugs. He was looking forward to leaving la Cour de Velours, as despite only being here for a day, he was already sickened by the smell and sight of the drugs. He supposed that he should be happy that he was unable to hear or see any intimate relations that may be going on behind closed doors. Although, he suspected that one day was long enough for the smell of drugs to seep into his clothes, meaning, it'll likely take a lot of time and effort to get it out.