She sneezed for the thousandth time, with a soft sniffle, she clutched her hot cup of hot cocoa close to her lips. Her nostrils indulging in the warm breeze of the steam leaving the cup of delight, she sat on her favourite couch near the big window in the lounge, listening to the brutal falls of the rain outside. She wondered what could have possibly angered the heavens so much as the thunder roared in furry.
She could hear the crackling of wood as ambers feasted on it, providing her with warmth she hoped would be enough to not further her approaching cold. After all, no one liked being stuck in bed riddled with a fever, a blocked nose that made it difficult to breath, an irksome discomfort on the throat and not to forget the dreadful drowsiness that came with taking medication.
Too caught up in her thoughts, she became startled by a clap of thunder so loud that she wouldn't be surprised if she ended up having trouble of hearing properly. Feeling the hot trail down her cup that spilled lightly, she didn't miss the change in the atmosphere.
Heat all of a sudden clutched on her skin as if to feed off of her perspiration that was beginning to form along the trail of her forehead, she felt it, the untamed fear that gripped her body and disarmed her mind. She felt it, a presence about twelve feet from where she sat, the heavy breathing haunted her ears as she wondered who the intruder might be.
She knew she was to be alone for the entire weekend as both her parents were out of town. She highly doubted it was either of them that graced her presence. She could almost feel her hear near her throat threatening to suffocate her. Alas, she tried to regain her wits and calm down, after all, panicking would get her nowhere, she knew that very well.
With her mind set, There's no way in hell I'm letting it happen again, she thought to herself, with her knew found determination, she steeled her heart, and steadied her thoughts, calming her mind, a routine she had had to master a few years ago. Gaining her courage, she untangled herself from her fuzzy blanket, Get rid of any possible disadvantage you may have around you, she recalled the stern manly voice.
However, she kept the cup in her hand, she figured it could serve as an advantage rather than not. Well it's no everyday a woman arms herself with a cup but its something…right? She thought to herself. Oblivious to the fact that a cup would not even dent the said intruder.
"Who's there, who are you?" she questioned, briefly proud that she could keep her voice steady, and that she did not stutter. She knew she stood in a way that she was facing the intruder who's breathing seized but for a moment in surprise.
His ragged breath could no be helped as he clutched the open wound leaking onto the well cleaned tiled floor. He knew why his wound wouldn't heal, hence he teleported when he did knowing if he had stayed he would have possibly died. He failed however, to pay mind to where he decided to mindlessly teleport to. Hence his current predicament.
The voice was smooth as a lullaby, and as sweet as the freshly ripped blood berries that grew in his garden. Though he didn't miss the slight hostility laced with fear tone in her voice, it still caressed his ears as a warm breeze would. He stood slouched as he raised his head up to look at the creature he might have mistaken for an angel.
Before him stood a fragile looking girl, too short he thought, as she seemed to be about 5'1 compared to his 6'5ft beastly stature, and nothing compared to when he's fully in his demon form which lends him at a 7'5ft height. She had platinum blonde hair that stood in a poorly tamed bun as a few tendrils escaped to frame her face. Her skin resembled the white petals of a rose, and he wondered if whether it was smooth to the touch too.
"Hello?, I can hear you breathing you know" the girl spoke up, disturbing his trail of thought, she now almost sounded as if annoyed, possibly by the fact that he seemed to not be answering her questions. He had long figured that he must be in earth.
Another thought struck him and had him curious, sure it was dark, but the girl would have been able to see him either way, and the way she phrased her questions and that last statement, he looked closely at the girl, and what registered nearly made his blood boil, which surprised him.
The girl had a scar that ran across her right eye till her jaw end, and her very eyes were a startling pale white infused grey, she was blind and it made sense. He knew he should have teleported elsewhere so he can tend to his wound, but the girl's soul held his own prisoner. He made a move to walk so he could sit down, but the pain struck like the beaming lightning
outside.
She heard the intruder hiss, he or she hadn't answered her just yet and she was losing her patience along with her fear. Her mind surfaced that his raged breathing and the hiss meant the person was possibly injured, and still questioned how the person gained access to the inside.
"Pardon me little rose, could you perhaps provide me with a medical aid kit of sort, I'm afraid I find myself at a disadvantageous predicament. I'll be out of your hair soon" he finally replied, his voice was rough as he almost groaned out the entire sentence as if it pained him to speak.
She almost felt bad for adding to his discomfort but then remembered he was still an intruder, injured or not. Alas, she mutely left the lounge, walking with precision a blind person rarely ever has, she was sure of her steps, after all, she knew her home like the back of her hand that she needn't a walking stick for assistance.
She placed her now cold cup of unfinished cocoa, on the marble island in the kitchen, she then rand her hand on the cabinet handles from the first till the fourth which help said medical aid kit, she bent over opening it, only to carefully use her sense of touch to feel the bag that thankfully wasn't far out of her reach.
Grabbing it she moved back to the lounge, she listened to where his struggling breaths were coming from, he was in her chair, drenching her pastel pink fuzzy blanket with his oozing blood, if she was able to see, she would have possibly cried at the sight.
He saw her hesitate in her approach toward him, possibly weighing her dangers up, he realise his wound was making a mess and made a mental not to fix that after. He was about to snatch the kit out of her hands when she knelt before him placing the kit next to her.
He wondered if she was right in her mind, considering she wouldn't be able to see what she's doing, ignorant to the fact that she in fact knew what she had to do, another thing she had to learn, mending wounds, she had a brilliant mind with perfectly sharpened senses. She had promised herself to never be vulnerable again.
"You don't have to help" the man spoke, almost startling her where she knelt.
"Come on, tell me where you're injured, and in detail please" she said, a questioned wondered in her mind, was she nuts?. She didn't know, but she knew she had to help him, an unspoken request deep within her urged her to, she felt it, she needed to help him, she had to. Too in pain to question her, he responded
"It's a deep gash about 4 to 5 inches deep, from my chest to my abdomen, diagonal from left top to right bottom, and it's heavily bleeding"
"Not my fuzzy blanket" she said in trepidation, her bottom lip almost trembling, he realised this and was quick to reassure her
"I'll have it clean as new, I promise" sounding almost panicked regardless the pain, she sniffled
"You better, it's my favourite after all" she stood up, knowing she needed a drenched towel, perhaps two, so she can clean his wound up. Heading for the bathroom on the same floor of the house, she was quick to return.
Taking her former position, she extended her arms out and landed her hands on his shoulders, she knew then that the man was big and hard with muscles, he felt scalding hot to the touch, but she welcomed the heat, and a somewhat part of her found it comforting.
She carefully wiped his chest clean off of the blood, as he sat rigid at her touch, he felt it the second her skin, his pain was gone although the wound remained as she cleaned him up, he sat shocked, It can't be, he though in disbelief. As he looked at her, he realised she was an enigmatic beauty, a mystery he'd love to solve.
She was careful with her hands as she applied a disinfectant to his wound, she could feel the severity of his wound as she ran her fingers on the edges of his opened gash that wasn't bleeding anymore, she couldn't see it, but he did.
"With how deep you said it is, you're gonna need stitches, so you're gonna need to go to the hospital mister" she said, her voice stern, as if a mother commanding her son. He would have found it amusing if he wasn't staring at his enclosing wound. The last straw that seemed to confirm it in his mind.
"I don't need the hospital little rose, I'll be fine in a few hours" he responded, his voice sounding much clearer when not groaning and grunting in pain. It was deep and smooth, seducing her heart into a frenzy of a dance, she couldn't explain her peculiar behaviour as she sat back on the heels of her feet, with a frown on her face
"Why do I feel this way?" she suddenly blurted out, as his fingers ran across her forehead in attempt to rid of her frown. He found himself smiling at her soft spoken question, almost sounding breathless, he couldn't help but imagine her beneath him, but he was quick to dispose of the mental image
"What is your name?, what do you want?, how did you even get in here?," the next questions just fell out of her, her mind racing at a pace she didn't think before she questioned.
I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours" he responded, and now that his wound was almost healed, he could feel his power strengthening again, with that he snapped his fingered, and his blood evaporated from the little river it had formed on the tiled floor, across the lounge to where he sat, a part of him glad the blanket was clean.
"I'm Serilda"
"Serilda" he tasted the name on his tongue and he almost moaned at the taste of it, and most aware of her senses peaking when he said it.
He couldn't help but think, Well this might be fun, although it is quite a terribletiming he let out a sigh as he thought to himself. To Serilda, the way he said her name was as if it was sung by the devil only to lure her to her very demise. She felt a shiver travel down her spine now, it was different from the one He had made run her spine. Refusing to dwell in such memories, she waited expectantly
"Call me Zaphyer" was all he said, twirling the loose lock of hair between his sharp nailed fingers, he disappeared as if he were never there to begin with.