Candara, Mimi, Danté, and Zinno have all been notified to not visit the house for the week. It’s too dangerous for them to be here when Clichein is around— not with the “cane” he always held being there.
The two couples sit on the porch. One of them is being discreet, while the other is already known. Whimzy and King are going to draw most of the attention in. It’s a decision they all agreed on the day before.
His body, mind, and soul are cowering in fear as much as they are enraged. So many memories are resurfacing of his words, his actions... he can even feel the scars that reach his wings start to swell in pain, reliving those moments.
His hand instinctually tightens it’s grip around Ramsay’s own, hidden behind his back. Ramsay squeezes back.
He can’t know. Whatever happens, Clichein can’t know of their relationship. He only approves of Zinno because it’s “political.” To him, Ramsay is outside blood— and a male, at that. While he is worried for his boyfriend, the wasp can’t help but tremble thinking of what he might do if he figured it out.
The normal voltage? No, he would never. Normal would just be a drum and a simple burn scar. Even back then, he never used normal.
Maybe high, then. But that would still be small compared to what Clichein believed to have been treasonous. Unruly. He only used that for keeping their behaviors in check back then. To punish them for what they did “wrong.” He held back because of their ages.
The highest could kill a normal insect citizen. They’re stronger now, but not a lot. It would do much more damage compared to the normal high voltage.
Lhazin is almost positive he would use the last one. He can feel the electricity burning his fuzz, his carapace, and his underlayer of skin— and gods, it hurts. He can’t breathe.
But he has to focus. The body of the cursed one is coming into view from down the hill, emerging from the forest clearing. Whimzy’s breath hitches, but his only grows more out of control as the group stands up, ready to speak to him once he makes it up.
Ramsay squeezes his hand again. They share their soul pulses for a moment. That’s right... They’re soulmates, now. They’re in tune with eachother.
Something Azrael cannot do so well, as it seems.
Their door is locked— Whimzy did that for their own safety, since they’re in an immobile state. They’ve long since recovered from their unfortunate genetics landing them in the hospital, yes, but... it seems finally becoming ill has left their body completely exposed to all manners of diseases far too quickly. First it was a stomach flu, then it was a sinus infection. Now they have bronchitis.
One would think their nose is probably out of tune at this point, but no. And since Mom left the letter from Fozarra in there with them, they have been hyperfocused on this one specific lemony scent coming from the paper.
Their curiosity bests them. Through the sickness, they activate their chronokinesis. Now they just have to figure out how to get to it even though their muscles ache too much to move enough.
Could they set up an elaborate pulley? No, they don’t have enough of a focus for that. Gravity may not be completely working for anyone but them right now, but there’s a limit to what they can and can’t do while ill.
Maybe they can focus really hard on it and it’ll come to them. It’s possible. If Mimi can use telekinesis, they should be able to use it like her, right? They’re both espers, after all.
They focus their hand, ignoring the shakiness, and stare at the paper intently. They’re... very slowly forming a fist— and then they feel it.
With a flash of red from their chest and cheeks, the paper is suddenly in the palm of their hand, rolled neatly. The chronokinesis has already deactivated, and less than a second has passed.
The paper absolutely smells like lemons now that they’re able to closely inspect it. Specifically, the blank bottom half. They could’ve sworn they’d heard about something like this before— and then it hits them.
The candle over on their side table is still burning. They’ve grown used to the smell of vanilla, so they’re not going to be particularly offset if lemon gets thrown into the mix with this next move.
Azrael musters all their strength to stretch the paper over the flame. As expected, something starts to appear with the heat. A secret message.
Lemon juice serves as an invisible ink. It’s simple, but smart. No one expects something as plain as that. They do their best to read it before letting their last drops of determination for the day push them into an emergency mode.
Please take extreme caution. Once this message is sent, I will have already left the Heirveux Castle in order to reach your home. I cannot say when I will be there, so I leave you with this information to explain my actions.
We of the End Sun’s Church have reason to believe my brother is planning to assassinate both you and Lhazin. There is undeniable evidence that he is a leader of a terrorist organization known as the Corderans.
When I arrive, I will kill him. Please hold out and stay alive until I do.
I am counting on you, my niece.”
...And they’re almost instantly texting their mother a photo of it and a transcript. It’s just in time, too— she’s able to get the entire thing memorized right as the cursed one makes it to her porch.
But she needs to stay strong.
Their lives are on the line.
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