History Protection PreCure

Chapter Eleven: The Mind Eccentric... PreCure Goes Rouge

Angel ran their hands along the cold marble of a tomb plaque. Their fingertips dancing gracefully across the name recently etched in. They set up the sweet yellow flowers off to the side, turning their head to the sight of Horatius sitting atop the cold stone that stretched across a pavilion.

"Galloway, you really have no sense of humor, do you?" Horatius scoffed. Their arms were firmly locked around each other with their legs crossed. Their elaborate ways of dress seemingly all gathered in the form of one too many fabrics deemed a simple robe. All the complexity and less of the function for the hair that was half tousled and half as smooth as silk.

They were standing in a PreCure graveyard.

"Oh, now you're bringing too much on yourself..." Horatius commented, walking over and swiping Angel's hair off of their back. Their fingers carefully bended along the frames of Angel's shoulders. "You act as if death hasn't been around you this entire time," They mumbled, resting their head along the blonde one's shoulder. "What is it? The quarrel between you and your newest girlfriend?"

Angel perked up and began making their leave across the courtyard.

Horatius, on the other hand, watched as they left, for a split second, their hand lingering in the air with a notion of longing. They rolled their eyes, fixing their head towards the grave of Avery Von Weismann. "Human relationships to one another have always been something of fascination. Brother." They stopped to run their talons along the silky side of their hair.

Angel glanced over at the visitor. Their icy glare saying much more than what ever could be said.

"Sisters. Lovers. Siblings through marriage. Parents. Parents through marriage. Is it not all just a point of perspective?" Horatius asked, lifting their hands in question. The fabric of their sleeves dripped down their sickly pale bony arms like water. "Or a way to avoid being lonely? Why be so caught up in such a thing? You're a god... And I—"

Angel scoffed, rolling their eyes. "Why must I remind you the one that gave me the ability to feel?"

Horatius fell silent, Angel's words seemingly physically holding them back. "Point made." A grin sliced along their face, cutting from ear to ear.

One of their hands slapped against their temple, letting out another groan. "I need a drink—!" Angel exclaimed, about to turn on their heel only to the sight of a levitating tray with a bottle of red wine and a glass.

"Enjoy your stay," Horatius greeted, before snapping themselves out of the room.

Haldenia, Japan; January 2023

Who knew a mere fever could leave you bedridden for days.

Rina groaned as she was finally given sense to leave her hospital bed. However, once she was lifted from the deadening sense of her fever, she was bombarded with the reminder that Andrei stopped by to tell her she was fired. From Pretty Cure. Now, that was a new fever.

At least the cafeteria brought some form of life out of her. She needed it. Still. Her appetite had been sickened by Andrei's visit.

Avery.

Rina just had to take one look at her mother, and she already knew she was elsewhere for having presumably cut ties off with Angel. She could just feel it off of her. The large windows of the hospital cafeteria begged for harsher topics to be discussed given the warm Winter sunshine that slipped through. And yet, the air had never felt so frozen. Chilling as it was, Rina swallowed the nausea and pride, parting her lips to speak. "Mommy?"

"Hm?" Asami asked, seemingly snapping out of her trance.

Rina sighed, pressing her hand against her forehead, looking down at the plate of orange jelly she had gotten herself. "I didn't know... Avery was..." She crossed her arms, glancing off towards the edge of the table, watching the words slide right out of her. Just like that, a waterfall of emotions came upon her. Her eyes fluttered close before her shoulders began to shake with such intensity, it all felt like some sick dream. Maybe even a fever one.