"If your eyes could speak, what would they say?"
-𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 every letter,
she sends it off with a kiss and
carries it with love in her heart.
When a peculiar omen pulls her
to believe that the countless
letters she's been sending...
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❝ A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH. ❞
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DIVINE RETRIBUTION
"YOU SEEM RATHER. . ." she held back a nervous chuckle for his sake. The room felt as if it would crumble, and he did too. "Worn thin, Albedo." Sucrose placed a cup of tea beside him on the desk. She had quite the trouble finding an open space for it. "On edge," she added as a final comment.
The ashen blonde shook his head and set aside a pile of papers to the side. The office was a mess. He himself was a mess. And it just so happens that the dedicated area on the other side of his room was perfectly clean, free of clutter. The Lovelorn Lady laid as if dead. In a coma at best. Like a porcelain doll kept in a glass coffin. He thought that if anything touched her, she'd simply break.
"You should rest," Sucrose suggested, as she has been the past few days in a row now. As his one assistant, it was only natural to be concerned when someone forces themself awake for about a week.
"I don't need it." But it sure did seem like he did. He was the most unorganized Sucrose has ever seen him. Well it might've been true that he technically did not need sleep to keep functioning, it was borderline concerning.
Sucrose sighed, placing the last of the books into their respective places on the bookshelves. She excuses herself for another experiment she was assigned to before the whole ordeal went about. She gave one final glance at y/n before gently shutting the door.
Once more, the room was silent.
The moment the door clicked, he set his eyes on y/n. She was sleeping on an infirmary bed beside a bayside window in his offic. Early in the morning, the sun would radiate on her. In the noon, the sun would hurt his eyes. And in the night, the moon cascaded a faded blue.
Even at times where she'd look deathly pale, he knew she wasn't dead. Because every so often, she'd let out a sudden yelp, or tussle under the blanket in discomfort. Her breathing would be labored and short and often times she'd break out into a fever. When those days happen, he'd asked for Lisa or Jean to help fill in the gaps to his hospitalization knowledge. Albedo has never been sick. He has never cared for sick, not even for Klee because Klee was naturally healthy.
It wasn't just a rumor that y/n was a rather sickly woman. In fact, about everyone knows how susceptible her body was to sudden changes in the weather or whenever she overexerts herself. It is how they protect her. How they prepare when their dependable Lovelorn Lady ever falls ill. It was a wonder how she was ill just from laying on a bed.
There was no one left to protect her after all.
Even now, just incase another fever breaks out, Albedo had stapled a step-by-step list written by Lisa on how to handle y/n's fevers on the bulletin board behind his desk.
