ㅤㅤ

The town lights stretched farther than Bela had expected; they reflected in puddles left behind by an evening rain. Cars passed occasionally, their headlights briefly illuminating empty streets before vanishing again. Somewhere in the distance, music drifted from a place she couldn't identify. It was strange. Too many lights, too many sounds, and too many people. Not that many remained awake at this hour, but even this late at night, the town felt more alive than the village ever had.

Bela walked quietly beside Alisson. Her pace was slower than it used to be. Two months had improved her condition, though not nearly enough. The jagged remains of her left arm were hidden beneath the sleeve of her coat. It had healed some, but not much. The crystal growth had receded, but progress came painfully and frustratingly slowly. At least she no longer slept through entire days. That was something.

The blonde also no longer stood over everyone. Necessity had forced adaptation. At first by accident and then through trial and error, Bela had learned to compress her swarm. It was uncomfortable, like being squeezed into clothing several sizes too small, but it worked. Gone was the imposing two-meter figure that had once wandered the halls of Castle Dimitrescu...for now.

Instead, she appeared merely unusually tall, standing just around 180 cm. Enough to draw glances, perhaps, but not enough to get too much attention.

Her golden eyes wandered upward, studying the buildings around them: apartments, shops, street lamps, and normal people. They paid her no mind. No frightened whispers, no prayers to Mother Miranda. No servants bowing their heads. No castle...

The thought came and went like a knife. Bela said nothing. She had become very good at that—very good at carefully avoiding thoughts she could not bear, and very good at not speaking names. Mother, Cassandra, Daniela. The words remained locked away somewhere deep inside her. Instead, she focused on practical things, like shelter and food. As if she had not spent decades with the same three people. As if they had never existed. The lie worked...most days.

Her gaze wandered down the street until it settled on the illuminated sign of a hotel further ahead, then toward Alisson, who was looking rather tired. "Iubirea mea... should we get a room for a few nights?" The question came softly. Not because she doubted they could find an abandoned house somewhere; they had done that for two months, but perhaps they no longer had to. At least for now. Her fingers briefly adjusted the strap of her leather bag. The same bag she had carried from the village. Inside rested her sketchbook, spare clothes, and a rather considerable amount of money that had somehow found its way into her possession with the assistance of several inconspicuous flies and the carelessness of strangers.

For a few seconds, hearing the pride in Bela's voice made a warmth that felt all too familiar spread through Alisson's chest. She nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Of course she remembered. ────── ❛ Are you sure it'll heal properly? I don't know... I've never seen you without an arm before. ❜ — She replied, absently scratching the back of her neck. Even though the comment sounded rather blunt, there didn't seem to be any ill intent behind it... Right? Once they reached the bathroom, Alisson set about preparing the bathtub. Faint memories of doing the very same thing back at the castle for Bela began drifting through her mind — washing her hair, taking care of her, and... Well, failing to protect her, too, the day Ethan Winters tore everything apart. Her expression hardened instantly, every trace of warmth vanishing in the blink of an eye. Oh, she'd kill that man if she ever saw him again. With her own hands.

Every kind of violent thought flooded her mind; countless ways to make him pay without getting herself killed in the process. She imagined him suffering, crying, begging. She pictured desperation spreading across his face. All Alisson could see was red. Violence had never been her first choice, but ever since she'd lost everything... Ever since everything had been ripped away from her... And on top of that, that son of a bitch would have taken Bela too, if it hadn't been for the sacrifice of the maids — and of the entire castle. For a few moments, Alisson squeezed the bottle of soap so tightly she could have sworn the plastic groaned beneath the pressure. But the presence that soon came to stand beside her pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked, realizing she'd poured a little too much soap into the bathwater. Slowly, her grip on the bottle loosened, and she turned to look at Bela. Bathe separately? Since when had that even been an option? ────── ❛ You get in first. I'll join you in a second. ❜ — She murmured, walking over to the blonde and helping her out of her clothes. Her voice sounded strangely tense. Oh, she just needed a moment to process the disturbingly sadistic thoughts she'd just had.

Her gaze drifted briefly to the half-healed limb before returning to Alisson. She tilted her head ever so slightly. "You worry too much." Her words carried no criticism, only affection. "…Besides," she added, "this body has endured rather extraordinary things over the years. I have every confidence it will manage one more."

She left unspoken that she had never tested its limits quite like this before. Neither of them needed that thought.

___________________________________________________________

The warmth of the bathroom was almost overwhelming after weeks spending mostly outside. Steam slowly filled the room as the bath continued to fill.

Without protest, Bela allowed Alisson to help her. The blonde had long since abandoned the pride that had once insisted she could do everything herself. Well, not entirely. But enough to understand when accepting help was simply… sensible. "Thank you." She spoke quietly as Alisson folded the clothes aside.

As Alisson moved beside her, Bela caught something else. The tension. Not in her posture alone. In the way she carried herself and spoke. And slowly, Bela lifted her remaining hand.

Cool fingertips came to rest against Alisson's cheek. She gently guided the younger woman's attention back toward her. Her thumb brushed lightly across Alisson's cheek. "…Everything will be alright." Bela spoke the words with quiet conviction. Whether she truly believed them or merely wished Alisson would, even Bela could not have said.

"Tonight…" She glanced toward the waiting bath. "…we simply allow ourselves to be warm and to relax." Reluctantly, Bela withdrew her hand before turning toward the tub.

Getting inside proved more awkward than she cared to admit. Balancing with only one arm, she steadied herself against the edge, lowering carefully into the water inch by inch. For one brief moment she nearly lost her footing, a quiet huff of annoyance followed.

Finally she settled into the bath, the warmth wrapped around her aching muscles almost instantly. Every bruise, stiff joint and lingering injury seemed to sigh in relief. Bela's shoulders slowly lowered for what felt like the first time in months.

It didn't take long for Alisson to climb into the bathtub as well. Although all of her limbs were still intact, a number of wounds remained from the day the castle had fallen into ruins. Her legs had suffered the most; scratches and bruises marred her skin, yet she hardly seemed to care.

Carefully, she lowered herself into the water beside Bela. It didn't take long for the bath to become clouded with dirt and dried blood. Alisson curled up beneath the comforting warmth, savoring the heat against her aching body.

────── ❛ Yeah... It feels like a comforting hug. ❜ — She agreed.

The bathtub was only just large enough for two people, but the young woman seemed perfectly content sitting so close to Bela.

Alisson stretched her legs for a moment, her joints giving a satisfied series of pops. She let out a quiet sigh before quickly drawing them back, sitting cross-legged once more to give Bela a little extra room.

────── ❛ Let's see... There's... Uh... Lavender shampoo... And chamomile... ❜

She picked up both bottles and held them out, letting Bela choose.

Closed starter for @bela--dimitrescu , MODERN AU!

A new semester had finally given Alisson the opportunity to study the degree she had always wanted: science. Biomedicine, bacteria, and anything involving complex subjects sparked her curiosity like a cat chasing something shiny.

It was her first year at university, and although Alisson was considerably shy, she had settled into the new environment in record time. She supposed having a roommate who was older than her had helped a lot.

Her footsteps —far too quick and anxious for someone heading to class— echoed through the hallways like the frantic paws of an excited puppy. It came as no surprise that she'd gotten lost in the building. Her first class of the day was Clinical Microbiology, and she was already running late.

With her laptop tucked under one arm and a backpack carrying the rest of her supplies, Alisson hurried up the staircase leading to the university's science wing. She panted as quietly as she could, checking the time on her phone every other second. That proved to be the source of her misery.

The moment she looked down to wake the screen, she slammed straight into someone.

A pained hiss escaped her lips as she staggered awkwardly backward until she landed on the floor with an undignified thud. Thankfully, even though her laptop had gone flying down the stairs and shattered on impact, Alisson had managed to catch herself on the handrail with surprising strength. The pain, however, remained. Her legs had twisted into an alarmingly uncomfortable position, and the palms of her hands were left with fresh scrapes and friction burns from the metal railing.

────── ❛ I- I- I'm so, so sorry! ❜ — She blurted, trying to ignore her crushed laptop lying at the bottom of the staircase. Even then, her concern immediately shifted to the other person rather than her belongings. ────── ❛ I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I'm really sorry. ❜ — She insisted, using the railing to push herself back onto her feet. ────── ❛ Did I hurt you?... I'm sorry... ❜

Dani: Belaaaa, can you bring me lunch after your lecture? I forgot mine again. Love you.

A quiet sigh escaped her before something slammed into her. She staggered back a single step, one hand instinctively catching the railing to steady herself, her phone almost slipping from her grasp before she tucked it securely into her coat pocket.

Her first instinct was to snap - she was already having a hell of a morning, and being barreled into on the stairs was the last thing she needed.

Bela blinked once, looking down at the young woman who had landed on the floor. Their eyes met for the briefest moment. There was something undeniably striking about the stranger. Bela found herself noticing before she had any business doing so. But the realization was promptly buried beneath far more immediate concerns.

The blonde felt guilty. If she hadn't been standing on the staircase checking her phone this wouldn't have happened.

Without another thought, she descended the remaining step between them, her composure returning. "No," she answered first, her voice calm. "I'm quite alright. But....are you alright?" Blue eyes swept over the stranger, noting the awkward angle of her legs, the fresh scrapes on her palms....and finally the laptop lying in shattered pieces several steps below.

Bela's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "...I believe I share some responsibility," she admitted after a brief hesitation. "I was hardly paying attention myself."

Her gaze drifted once more to the broken laptop. "...That," she murmured quietly, genuine regret coloring her voice, "appears to have suffered considerably more than either of us."

Bela's gaze lingered on the broken laptop for another moment before returning to the other woman. "...I will replace it." The words were spoken matter-of-factly, leaving little room for protest. "It's demise was, at least in part, my doing." Her expression remained composed, though there was a quiet sincerity behind her gaze.

The angelic voice assuring her that everything was fine immediately caught Alisson's attention. It wasn't slurred like the voices she often heard from students who spent more time getting high than studying. Nor was it nervous and shaky like her own, or dull and lifeless like those who seemed to be attending university out of obligation.

For the first time since the fall, she looked up, blue irises analyzing something other than a sample beneath a microscope.

Alisson blinked.

At that moment, she couldn't tell whether she'd died after cracking her neck against the stairs... Or whether someone so seemingly perfect could actually exist in such an imperfect world.

She tried to play it off, forcing her gaze down to the shattered laptop lying on the floor.

────── ❛ Uh... Yeah, thankfully the laptop's the only thing that took any real damage. ❜ — She replied, doing her best to hold together what little composure she had left.

She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, her dignity crumbling by the second, and her legs trembling like jelly. Even so, she let go of the handrail, walked down the stairs, and picked up the broken device. Maybe repairing it wouldn't cost that much... And perhaps her university grant would cover it. After all, it had been an accident.

Alisson turned back toward the blonde, skeptical, raising an eyebrow when the woman actually suggested replacing the laptop.

────── ❛ Replace it? That's really not necessary. I can just have it repaired. ❜ — She assured her, even though several keys had popped off the keyboard and the screen was practically hanging off its hinges. ────── ❛ I appreciate the offer, but... I can't accept it. ❜

With that, Alisson tucked the broken laptop into her backpack and gave a small shake of her head. As much as she wanted a new computer, accepting one simply didn't feel right. At least, not from her point of view.

────── ❛ Yeah... I can probably take notes on my phone's Notes app... I think. ❜

"You may accept the offer." Her voice was calm and patient. "You were hardly the only one at fault. I was standing in the middle of the staircase, distracted by my phone." A sigh escaped her. "Had I been paying proper attention, none of this would have happened."

Her eyes settled on Alisson once more. Up close, she was... remarkably pretty. There was something refreshingly genuine about her, from the embarrassed flush on her cheeks to the stubborn insistence that she could manage on her own. And the blonde found herself hoping this would not be the last time they met.

"...Besides," she continued, "allow me one good deed." Her gaze flicked toward the clock mounted above the hall entrance. "...Though, regrettably, it seems we are both running late."

Reaching into the inside pocket of her coat, Bela retrieved a small ivory business card. She held it out between two slender fingers.

"I have some free time this weekend. If, by then, you still insist that your laptop does not require replacing..." The corner of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. "...then permit me, at the very least, to buy you a coffee."

For just a heartbeat longer than propriety demanded, Bela held Alisson's gaze before adding quietly, "...Simply send me a message."

"...And one more thing." She gestured lightly toward the staircase behind them. "No more running on stairs." With that, Bela inclined her head politely before turning on her heel. "Have a pleasant day!"

Her pace quickened almost immediately, long strides carrying her toward the lecture hall. She was already late enough as it was, and if Professor Ionescu had already begun Business Management, she'd undoubtedly be receiving one of his disapproving looks. But somehow...Bela found she didn't mind quite as much today.

First the blonde blamed herself, and now she was handing over a business card with her personal information on it. Who was this girl?

Was she some kind of mafia boss attending university as a cover? Was she—

...Oh, right. She was literally holding the blonde's business card in front of her.

Well, that made a little more sense. A businesswoman, huh?

Still, what kind of businesswoman offered to replace something as expensive as a laptop just like that?

────── ❛ Yeah... Thank you... ❜ — She replied, still sounding slightly skeptical.

Alisson took the card, giving it a quick glance before turning it over between her fingers. She raised her other eyebrow, confusion written all over her flustered expression.

A coffee?

────── ❛ I'd rather have tea. Coffee doesn't agree with me. ❜ — A smirk finally found its way onto her face.

Without another thought, she slipped the card into her pocket and watched the older woman walk away.

She cleared her throat and gave a small nod. What the hell just happened?

Without even saying goodbye —her confusion outweighing everything else— she turned and started climbing the stairs once more.

The town lights stretched farther than Bela had expected; they reflected in puddles left behind by an evening rain. Cars passed occasionally, their headlights briefly illuminating empty streets before vanishing again. Somewhere in the distance, music drifted from a place she couldn't identify. It was strange. Too many lights, too many sounds, and too many people. Not that many remained awake at this hour, but even this late at night, the town felt more alive than the village ever had.

Bela walked quietly beside Alisson. Her pace was slower than it used to be. Two months had improved her condition, though not nearly enough. The jagged remains of her left arm were hidden beneath the sleeve of her coat. It had healed some, but not much. The crystal growth had receded, but progress came painfully and frustratingly slowly. At least she no longer slept through entire days. That was something.

The blonde also no longer stood over everyone. Necessity had forced adaptation. At first by accident and then through trial and error, Bela had learned to compress her swarm. It was uncomfortable, like being squeezed into clothing several sizes too small, but it worked. Gone was the imposing two-meter figure that had once wandered the halls of Castle Dimitrescu...for now.

Instead, she appeared merely unusually tall, standing just around 180 cm. Enough to draw glances, perhaps, but not enough to get too much attention.

Her golden eyes wandered upward, studying the buildings around them: apartments, shops, street lamps, and normal people. They paid her no mind. No frightened whispers, no prayers to Mother Miranda. No servants bowing their heads. No castle...

The thought came and went like a knife. Bela said nothing. She had become very good at that—very good at carefully avoiding thoughts she could not bear, and very good at not speaking names. Mother, Cassandra, Daniela. The words remained locked away somewhere deep inside her. Instead, she focused on practical things, like shelter and food. As if she had not spent decades with the same three people. As if they had never existed. The lie worked...most days.

Her gaze wandered down the street until it settled on the illuminated sign of a hotel further ahead, then toward Alisson, who was looking rather tired. "Iubirea mea... should we get a room for a few nights?" The question came softly. Not because she doubted they could find an abandoned house somewhere; they had done that for two months, but perhaps they no longer had to. At least for now. Her fingers briefly adjusted the strap of her leather bag. The same bag she had carried from the village. Inside rested her sketchbook, spare clothes, and a rather considerable amount of money that had somehow found its way into her possession with the assistance of several inconspicuous flies and the carelessness of strangers.

The smile lingered another moment before her attention shifted back to what remained of her arm. "It will heal." She spoke with quiet certainty, gently turning the limb as if inspecting it herself. "It simply requires... patience. It's somewhat slower than usual." She glanced at the jagged end of her forearm again.

"...Then again," she added dryly, "this is the first time I have lost a limb to a shotgun." There was something almost absurd about saying it aloud. As though she were discussing an inconvenience rather than the loss of an arm.

Bela rose from the bed, a little more carefully than before, and followed Alisson into the adjoining bathroom.

While Alisson busied herself preparing the bath, Bela wandered toward the sink. The mirror greeted her and for a moment, she simply stared.

The woman looking back scarcely resembled the eldest daughter of House Dimitrescu. Her hair, once meticulously maintained, hung loose and unkempt around her shoulders. There were shadows beneath her golden eyes that no amount of rest seemed capable of erasing.

Slowly, almost without thinking, her fingertips rose to her forehead, tracing the familiar tattoo. A symbol she had worn for decades. Once a mark of rebirth. Now...a sad reminder if everything she had lost.

Her hand lingered there only a moment before she lowered it, leaning over the basin instead. She cupped cool water into her hand and splashed it across her face. Once. Then again.

When she finally looked back up, the expression staring back at her had settled once more into practiced composure.

Turning toward Alisson, Bela rested her remaining hand lightly against the edge of the sink. "...Would you like to bathe first?" Her voice was gentle. "I am in no hurry."

────── ❛ Are you sure it'll heal properly? I don't know... I've never seen you without an arm before. ❜ — She replied, absently scratching the back of her neck. Even though the comment sounded rather blunt, there didn't seem to be any ill intent behind it... Right?

Once they reached the bathroom, Alisson set about preparing the bathtub. Faint memories of doing the very same thing back at the castle for Bela began drifting through her mind — washing her hair, taking care of her, and... Well, failing to protect her, too, the day Ethan Winters tore everything apart.

Her expression hardened instantly, every trace of warmth vanishing in the blink of an eye. Oh, she'd kill that man if she ever saw him again. With her own hands.

Every kind of violent thought flooded her mind; countless ways to make him pay without getting herself killed in the process. She imagined him suffering, crying, begging. She pictured desperation spreading across his face. All Alisson could see was red. Violence had never been her first choice, but ever since she'd lost everything... Ever since everything had been ripped away from her...

And on top of that, that son of a bitch would have taken Bela too, if it hadn't been for the sacrifice of the maids — and of the entire castle.

For a few moments, Alisson squeezed the bottle of soap so tightly she could have sworn the plastic groaned beneath the pressure. But the presence that soon came to stand beside her pulled her out of her thoughts.

She blinked, realizing she'd poured a little too much soap into the bathwater. Slowly, her grip on the bottle loosened, and she turned to look at Bela.

Bathe separately? Since when had that even been an option?

────── ❛ You get in first. I'll join you in a second. ❜ — She murmured, walking over to the blonde and helping her out of her clothes. Her voice sounded strangely tense.

Closed starter for @bela--dimitrescu , MODERN AU!

A new semester had finally given Alisson the opportunity to study the degree she had always wanted: science. Biomedicine, bacteria, and anything involving complex subjects sparked her curiosity like a cat chasing something shiny.

It was her first year at university, and although Alisson was considerably shy, she had settled into the new environment in record time. She supposed having a roommate who was older than her had helped a lot.

Her footsteps —far too quick and anxious for someone heading to class— echoed through the hallways like the frantic paws of an excited puppy. It came as no surprise that she'd gotten lost in the building. Her first class of the day was Clinical Microbiology, and she was already running late.

With her laptop tucked under one arm and a backpack carrying the rest of her supplies, Alisson hurried up the staircase leading to the university's science wing. She panted as quietly as she could, checking the time on her phone every other second. That proved to be the source of her misery.

The moment she looked down to wake the screen, she slammed straight into someone.

A pained hiss escaped her lips as she staggered awkwardly backward until she landed on the floor with an undignified thud. Thankfully, even though her laptop had gone flying down the stairs and shattered on impact, Alisson had managed to catch herself on the handrail with surprising strength. The pain, however, remained. Her legs had twisted into an alarmingly uncomfortable position, and the palms of her hands were left with fresh scrapes and friction burns from the metal railing.

────── ❛ I- I- I'm so, so sorry! ❜ — She blurted, trying to ignore her crushed laptop lying at the bottom of the staircase. Even then, her concern immediately shifted to the other person rather than her belongings. ────── ❛ I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I'm really sorry. ❜ — She insisted, using the railing to push herself back onto her feet. ────── ❛ Did I hurt you?... I'm sorry... ❜

Dani: Belaaaa, can you bring me lunch after your lecture? I forgot mine again. Love you.

A quiet sigh escaped her before something slammed into her. She staggered back a single step, one hand instinctively catching the railing to steady herself, her phone almost slipping from her grasp before she tucked it securely into her coat pocket.

Her first instinct was to snap - she was already having a hell of a morning, and being barreled into on the stairs was the last thing she needed.

Bela blinked once, looking down at the young woman who had landed on the floor. Their eyes met for the briefest moment. There was something undeniably striking about the stranger. Bela found herself noticing before she had any business doing so. But the realization was promptly buried beneath far more immediate concerns.

The blonde felt guilty. If she hadn't been standing on the staircase checking her phone this wouldn't have happened.

Without another thought, she descended the remaining step between them, her composure returning. "No," she answered first, her voice calm. "I'm quite alright. But....are you alright?" Blue eyes swept over the stranger, noting the awkward angle of her legs, the fresh scrapes on her palms....and finally the laptop lying in shattered pieces several steps below.

Bela's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "...I believe I share some responsibility," she admitted after a brief hesitation. "I was hardly paying attention myself."

Her gaze drifted once more to the broken laptop. "...That," she murmured quietly, genuine regret coloring her voice, "appears to have suffered considerably more than either of us."

Bela's gaze lingered on the broken laptop for another moment before returning to the other woman. "...I will replace it." The words were spoken matter-of-factly, leaving little room for protest. "It's demise was, at least in part, my doing." Her expression remained composed, though there was a quiet sincerity behind her gaze.

The angelic voice assuring her that everything was fine immediately caught Alisson's attention. It wasn't slurred like the voices she often heard from students who spent more time getting high than studying. Nor was it nervous and shaky like her own, or dull and lifeless like those who seemed to be attending university out of obligation.

For the first time since the fall, she looked up, blue irises analyzing something other than a sample beneath a microscope.

Alisson blinked.

At that moment, she couldn't tell whether she'd died after cracking her neck against the stairs... Or whether someone so seemingly perfect could actually exist in such an imperfect world.

She tried to play it off, forcing her gaze down to the shattered laptop lying on the floor.

────── ❛ Uh... Yeah, thankfully the laptop's the only thing that took any real damage. ❜ — She replied, doing her best to hold together what little composure she had left.

She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, her dignity crumbling by the second, and her legs trembling like jelly. Even so, she let go of the handrail, walked down the stairs, and picked up the broken device. Maybe repairing it wouldn't cost that much... And perhaps her university grant would cover it. After all, it had been an accident.

Alisson turned back toward the blonde, skeptical, raising an eyebrow when the woman actually suggested replacing the laptop.

────── ❛ Replace it? That's really not necessary. I can just have it repaired. ❜ — She assured her, even though several keys had popped off the keyboard and the screen was practically hanging off its hinges. ────── ❛ I appreciate the offer, but... I can't accept it. ❜

With that, Alisson tucked the broken laptop into her backpack and gave a small shake of her head. As much as she wanted a new computer, accepting one simply didn't feel right. At least, not from her point of view.

────── ❛ Yeah... I can probably take notes on my phone's Notes app... I think. ❜

❛  i do appreciate you helping me.  ❜ ❛  i do feel at home when i'm with you.  ❜ ❛  i do hope you know how loved you are.  ❜ ❛  i do love being yours.  ❜ ❛  i do love the way you say my name.  ❜ ❛  i do love you a little more than i realized.  ❜ ❛  i do plan on being there for you always.  ❜ ❛  i do think about you more than i probably should.  ❜ ❛  i do want to keep making memories with you.  ❜ ❛  i do want to spend more time with you.  ❜ ❛  do you care about me too?  ❜ ❛  do you know how cute you are?  ❜ ❛  do you mind if i borrow your sweater?  ❜ ❛  do you mind if i sit with you?  ❜ ❛  do you need a helping hand with that?  ❜ ❛  do you need me to do something?  ❜ ❛  do you need some help?  ❜ ❛  do you want me to kiss it better?  ❜ ❛  do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?  ❜ ❛  do you want me to stay?  ❜ ❛  do you want me to walk you home?  ❜ ❛  do you want to dance with me?  ❜ ❛  do you want to go out with me?  ❜ ❛  do you want to hold my hand?  ❜ ❛  do you want to kiss me?  ❜ ❛  you do always know how to cheer me up.  ❜ ❛  you do brighten up the whole room.  ❜ ❛  you do deserve to be taken care of, too.  ❜ ❛  you do give the best hugs.  ❜ ❛  you do have a way of making ordinary things feel special.  ❜ ❛  you do know how much i care about you, right?  ❜ ❛  you do look cute when you're sleepy.  ❜ ❛  you do look perfect in my arms.  ❜ ❛  you do look very beautiful today.  ❜ ❛  you do look very cozy like that.  ❜ ❛  you do make everything feel easier.  ❜ ❛  you do make me feel like i'm exactly where i'm supposed to be.  ❜ ❛  you do make me feel safe.  ❜ ❛  you do make me smile without even trying.  ❜ ❛  you do make my heart feel very full.  ❜

The town lights stretched farther than Bela had expected; they reflected in puddles left behind by an evening rain. Cars passed occasionally, their headlights briefly illuminating empty streets before vanishing again. Somewhere in the distance, music drifted from a place she couldn't identify. It was strange. Too many lights, too many sounds, and too many people. Not that many remained awake at this hour, but even this late at night, the town felt more alive than the village ever had.

Bela walked quietly beside Alisson. Her pace was slower than it used to be. Two months had improved her condition, though not nearly enough. The jagged remains of her left arm were hidden beneath the sleeve of her coat. It had healed some, but not much. The crystal growth had receded, but progress came painfully and frustratingly slowly. At least she no longer slept through entire days. That was something.

The blonde also no longer stood over everyone. Necessity had forced adaptation. At first by accident and then through trial and error, Bela had learned to compress her swarm. It was uncomfortable, like being squeezed into clothing several sizes too small, but it worked. Gone was the imposing two-meter figure that had once wandered the halls of Castle Dimitrescu...for now.

Instead, she appeared merely unusually tall, standing just around 180 cm. Enough to draw glances, perhaps, but not enough to get too much attention.

Her golden eyes wandered upward, studying the buildings around them: apartments, shops, street lamps, and normal people. They paid her no mind. No frightened whispers, no prayers to Mother Miranda. No servants bowing their heads. No castle...

The thought came and went like a knife. Bela said nothing. She had become very good at that—very good at carefully avoiding thoughts she could not bear, and very good at not speaking names. Mother, Cassandra, Daniela. The words remained locked away somewhere deep inside her. Instead, she focused on practical things, like shelter and food. As if she had not spent decades with the same three people. As if they had never existed. The lie worked...most days.

Her gaze wandered down the street until it settled on the illuminated sign of a hotel further ahead, then toward Alisson, who was looking rather tired. "Iubirea mea... should we get a room for a few nights?" The question came softly. Not because she doubted they could find an abandoned house somewhere; they had done that for two months, but perhaps they no longer had to. At least for now. Her fingers briefly adjusted the strap of her leather bag. The same bag she had carried from the village. Inside rested her sketchbook, spare clothes, and a rather considerable amount of money that had somehow found its way into her possession with the assistance of several inconspicuous flies and the carelessness of strangers.

Willpower was something Alisson had in abundance. Moving forward, however, was a different story. Having to adapt her stomach, her life, or, more generally, her entire body just to survive was exhausting.

Life in the city seemed even more draining. Cars Alisson had never seen back in the village sped past, an overwhelming number of shops —perhaps more than two on every street— and so, so much noise.

That was the hardest part for her: that insufferable noise. There were already enough whispers echoing inside her head without the roar of engines and the chatter of strangers joining in. Despite the late hour, people still wandered through the city. Some were out drinking with friends, while others were simply enjoying the cool night air.

Alisson's feet ached, but complaining would accomplish nothing. After all, Bela was in far worse shape than she was.

She lifted her head when she heard the blonde speak.

────── “ Are you sure you want to spend our money on a hotel?... Maybe we should use what we have to buy food instead... ” — The thought of spending the night in a hotel, as tempting as it was, would only make their money disappear faster. But, then again... Bela needed proper rest... And Alisson just... Couldn't give her that.

────── “ ... Actually, never mind. I changed my mind. I think we both desperately need a bath. ”

The shift in her mood came as quickly as lightning. Alisson started walking toward the hotel, her legs heavy and likely covered in bruises from everything they'd endured just to stay alive. Even so, they carried her forward, slowly, sure, but surely.

The hotel itself was modest, a narrow brick building tucked between a bakery and a small convenience shop, its faded sign buzzing softly above the entrance. It was not luxurious, but it was enough.

The warm air inside greeted them immediately. The lobby was small, furnished with worn armchairs and a polished wooden counter behind which an elderly receptionist looked up from a newspaper. His eyes lingered on Bela for only a second, but she had grown accustomed to that by now.

"...One room for... two nights, please."

The receptionist nodded without much interest and money exchanged hands, followed by the clink of a brass key on the counter.

"Third floor. Room 312."

Bela accepted the key with a polite inclination of her head before turning back toward Alisson. "...That was unexpectedly uncomplicated." She had half expected questions. Instead, nothing, just another pair of travelers passing through.

The staircase creaked softly beneath their footsteps as they climbed; one floor, then another, then the third. Bela's pace slowed by the final flight. Her injuries had improved, but they still reminded her of their presence with every step. Eventually, they reached their room at the end of the corridor. Bela paused, turning the old brass key in the lock.

She pushed the door open. The room was simple: two double beds, a small wardrobe, and a worn armchair near the window. Nothing more, nothing less. Bela stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

For the first time in two months, she felt somewhat safe. A quiet sigh escaped her. With a practiced movement, she shrugged the heavy wool coat from her shoulders. It slid down her remaining arm, and she draped it carefully over the back of the chair near the door.

Only then did she allow herself to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight; it was far softer than the floors, haylofts, and abandoned houses they had grown accustomed to.

For a brief moment, the blonde simply sat there. Then, her remaining hand caught the hem of the oversized black hoodie she was wearing. She struggled, attempting to pull it over her head with only one arm, but the fabric twisted uselessly around her shoulder.

Bela frowned. A second attempt was equally unsuccessful. She remained seated, clearly debating whether stubbornness or practicality should win.

Practicality prevailed.

Alisson followed behind the blonde, as she always did. Her clothes: a dirty dress and a coat that barely managed to preserve her body heat, did little to keep people from staring. After all, in the middle of a city, who wouldn't glance at a pair of women dressed like that?

────── ❛ Who knows what that man has seen, Bela... Maybe we're nothing compared to... I don't know... Whatever's happened in this place? ❜ — She replied, walking through the hotel's corridors with quiet embarrassment. Even after coming so close to death, Alisson still held onto the modest, timid personality that defined her.

The scent of clean bedsheets welcomed her the moment they stepped into the room. It certainly didn't smell like Bela's bed back at the castle, but it was a comforting change after spending so long wandering the streets like strays.

Alisson followed Bela to the edge of the bed and sat beside her. Of course she had noticed there were two beds, that each of them could have their own space. But in a place as unfamiliar as this... It was better to stay together. She intertwined her fingers in her lap, fidgeting with them out of nervousness, and, truthfully, anxiety. She had never stayed anywhere other than the castle or the cabin where she'd grown up. Let alone a hotel. Somewhere filled with more people than she was used to. Complete strangers.

────── ❛ Yeah... I'll do it. ❜ — She murmured, getting to her feet and helping Bela with her clothes.

As she pulled the garment over the blonde's head, Alisson's eyes drifted to Bela's arm. It was still only halfway healed, dark dried blood and a scab covering the most sensitive part of the wound. Carefully, the raven-haired girl reached out and examined it.

────── ❛ I wish we had your herbal paste here... The green one, not the blueish one, huh? ❜ — She commented, gently patting the injured area. ────── ❛ I think... For now, a bath would do us both some good. Come on, I'll help you. ❜ — She encouraged, rising from the mattress.

The town lights stretched farther than Bela had expected; they reflected in puddles left behind by an evening rain. Cars passed occasionally, their headlights briefly illuminating empty streets before vanishing again. Somewhere in the distance, music drifted from a place she couldn't identify. It was strange. Too many lights, too many sounds, and too many people. Not that many remained awake at this hour, but even this late at night, the town felt more alive than the village ever had.

Bela walked quietly beside Alisson. Her pace was slower than it used to be. Two months had improved her condition, though not nearly enough. The jagged remains of her left arm were hidden beneath the sleeve of her coat. It had healed some, but not much. The crystal growth had receded, but progress came painfully and frustratingly slowly. At least she no longer slept through entire days. That was something.

The blonde also no longer stood over everyone. Necessity had forced adaptation. At first by accident and then through trial and error, Bela had learned to compress her swarm. It was uncomfortable, like being squeezed into clothing several sizes too small, but it worked. Gone was the imposing two-meter figure that had once wandered the halls of Castle Dimitrescu...for now.

Instead, she appeared merely unusually tall, standing just around 180 cm. Enough to draw glances, perhaps, but not enough to get too much attention.

Her golden eyes wandered upward, studying the buildings around them: apartments, shops, street lamps, and normal people. They paid her no mind. No frightened whispers, no prayers to Mother Miranda. No servants bowing their heads. No castle...

The thought came and went like a knife. Bela said nothing. She had become very good at that—very good at carefully avoiding thoughts she could not bear, and very good at not speaking names. Mother, Cassandra, Daniela. The words remained locked away somewhere deep inside her. Instead, she focused on practical things, like shelter and food. As if she had not spent decades with the same three people. As if they had never existed. The lie worked...most days.

Her gaze wandered down the street until it settled on the illuminated sign of a hotel further ahead, then toward Alisson, who was looking rather tired. "Iubirea mea... should we get a room for a few nights?" The question came softly. Not because she doubted they could find an abandoned house somewhere; they had done that for two months, but perhaps they no longer had to. At least for now. Her fingers briefly adjusted the strap of her leather bag. The same bag she had carried from the village. Inside rested her sketchbook, spare clothes, and a rather considerable amount of money that had somehow found its way into her possession with the assistance of several inconspicuous flies and the carelessness of strangers.

Willpower was something Alisson had in abundance. Moving forward, however, was a different story. Having to adapt her stomach, her life, or, more generally, her entire body just to survive was exhausting.

Life in the city seemed even more draining. Cars Alisson had never seen back in the village sped past, an overwhelming number of shops —perhaps more than two on every street— and so, so much noise.

That was the hardest part for her: that insufferable noise. There were already enough whispers echoing inside her head without the roar of engines and the chatter of strangers joining in. Despite the late hour, people still wandered through the city. Some were out drinking with friends, while others were simply enjoying the cool night air.

Alisson's feet ached, but complaining would accomplish nothing. After all, Bela was in far worse shape than she was.

She lifted her head when she heard the blonde speak.

────── “ Are you sure you want to spend our money on a hotel?... Maybe we should use what we have to buy food instead... ” — The thought of spending the night in a hotel, as tempting as it was, would only make their money disappear faster. But, then again... Bela needed proper rest... And Alisson just... Couldn't give her that.

────── “ ... Actually, never mind. I changed my mind. I think we both desperately need a bath. ”

The shift in her mood came as quickly as lightning. Alisson started walking toward the hotel, her legs heavy and likely covered in bruises from everything they'd endured just to stay alive. Even so, they carried her forward, slowly, sure, but surely.