Day 10 Part 2

The foggy haze that blankets my consciousness lingers, an irritating afterthought of whatever got me in this state. It throbs with a dull intensity, a cruel reminder of my body's vulnerability. It's as if my head has been stuffed with cotton, dampening my thoughts, slowing down my reaction times.

I groan, the sound foreign to my ears. Everything feels distant, detached, like I'm submerged in a body of water and the world outside is refracted and distorted. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and there's a weird taste I can't quite place. My muscles ache when I attempt to move, the residual pain a grim testament to my frailty.

I need to move my hands. I need to rub my eyes, shake off the disorientation. But my limbs feel heavy, numb. The simple act of lifting my hand feels like trying to hoist a sack of stones. It's a struggle to move, each slight twitch sending a shot of pain through my body. It's bad... but not as unbearable as before. I wince, steeling myself against the discomfort. It still hurts though.

Cracking open my eyes, I blink several times in quick succession, trying to dispel the fuzzy images that dance before my vision. Things are blurry, my surroundings meshing into a whirl of vague shapes and undefined colors. I try to focus, but it's like trying to watch a play through a frosted glass window.

Wait...

There's something. It's close. Too close. A subtle pressure around my torso alerts me to a foreign sensation. It feels like I'm being... held? My sluggish mind takes a moment to process the information. But that can't be right... can it?

I strain my eyes, attempting to bring my environment into focus. As the hazy blobs start to take shape, I realize with a startling clarity that I'm not imagining things. I am being held, cradled almost. My chest tightens, an uncomfortable knot forming in my stomach. The realization brings with it a surge of vulnerability I haven't felt in years.

A shift in movement directs my gaze upwards. Who...?

Isadora. She's the one holding me

She's carrying me. The realization hits me like a slap in the face. My cheeks heat up as a wave of embarrassment sweeps over me. I'm being held in Isadora's arms, carried like a helpless... Like a princess. The thought makes me want to squirm, to get away, but I can't.

Summoning the last of my strength, I manage to croak out, "Let me... down... I can... walk..."

My words come out slurred, my voice hardly more than a breathless whisper. But Isadora just gives me a cold gaze and tightens her grip around me. I have no choice but to stay where I am, cradled in her arms.

Pathetic... I'm pathetic. The world is coming back into focus, but frankly, I'd prefer it didn't. Especially now, as I spot Biana making her way towards me, that infuriating grin plastered across her face. It's clear she's reveling in my current predicament, her eyes glittering with mirth at my expense. I want to give her a piece of my mind, maybe wipe that grin off her face, but the words feel like lead in my mouth. You bastard...Just you wait.

As Biana nears, I steal a glance at Isadora. Her face, she's mad, she's never looked at me like that. But why did she glare at me like that? It makes my stomach churn in unease. I've been trying so hard to be friendly, to break down the walls between us. Did all that effort just go down the drain? Damn it, I've never been good at making friends. She must be frustrated, seeing me this useless, forcing her to waste time taking care of me. Pathetic...

Biana finally reaches us, her confident stride drumming out a mocking rhythm. Leaning over me, she wears a smirk that practically screams superiority. "Princess, have you finally gained consciousness?" she jeers. I'd normally counter her taunt, but my energy is as thin as a spider's web. All I can do is snarl in response, my eyes narrowed into slits.

Suddenly, I hear the familiar sound of Ilka's voice, her miniature form perched on my forehead. "Good job surviving. I'm honestly surprised you woke up so soon," she states, her tone infuriatingly nonchalant. "Shut up," I grumble, letting my annoyance bleed into my voice.

I look back at Isadora, whose gaze is riveted on me. Something about her look makes me uncomfortable, she's never looked at me like this, measuring me against some unspoken standard. She's gritting her teeth, I notice, and it does nothing to alleviate my unease. It's like I'm a rabbit caught in the stare of a fox. She doesn't even let me move, her gaze, it's... scary.

Biana's mockery and Ilka's snide comments are starting to get under my skin. Just as I'm about to reach my limit, a swift movement from Isadora catches my attention. With a swift kick, she sends a rock hurtling through the air. It arcs gracefully, landing a direct hit on Biana's forehead. Satisfaction washes over me, a grim smile tugging at my lips.

Biana points ahead, her sharp features stretched into a grotesque caricature of disgust. "Eeehhh, I thought you got rid of all your friends you bully!" she yells, turning to Isadora.

And then I see them. Giant frogs. A whole army of them. Slime-dripping, eye-popping, skin-crawling amphibians. You know, there are many things I'd rather be doing right now. Taking a nap, for one. Having a root canal without anesthesia. But this? It's like a sick cosmic joke.

My groan is lost in the chaos, an embarrassed whisper drowned by the cacophony of ribbits and laughter. "Goddammit," I mutter, clutching at the sides of my head. Laughter bubbles from Biana, her voice ringing with pure, undiluted delight. This whole situation is like a theatre of the absurd, and I'm stuck playing the jester. Great.

I can hear Isadora's heart beating steady and constant, echoing in my ears like a relentless drum. It's unnerving how composed she is. I don't know what's more distracting – the imminent frog invasion, Biana's hyena-like laughter or the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Isadora's heart. "Just... kill me," I mumble to myself. "Can't die from embarrassment, huh? Watch me."

With every fiber of my being screaming in protest, I force myself to talk. "P-Put...me..down," I manage to croak out, before a wave of pain makes me double over, coughing. Isadora merely raises an eyebrow, the slightest twitch before returning her icy stare forward. Her disregard is like a punch to the gut. Hey, I get it. No emotions. But come on, Isadora! Can't you read the room? And by the room, I mean my mortified face.

And then, as if she hasn't already upstaged every macho hero from every action movie ever, Isadora proceeds to massacre the frogs while still holding me. In one hand, no less. I mean, who even does that? It's just overkill. In the midst of this, all I can do is cringe. It's so bad, I might need therapy.

And Biana? She's practically rolling on the floor, laughing so hard she can't even stand straight. Yeah, keep laughing, I mentally snarl. Your turn will come.

Meanwhile, Ilka's tiny voice pipes up from my forehead, her tone sharper than a double-edged sword. "Wow, you're even more useless than I thought, At least cry, I won't blame you," She sneers, finding joy in my misery. Damn this annoying bitch.

All I want to do is curl up and disappear. But I can't. Because I'm being cradled like a damn princess by our emotionally constipated, frog-slaying heroine, in front of the she-devil herself. Yeah, I don't think it gets any worse than this.

And the award for the worst day ever goes to... Sera, she's still running, poor girl.

Soaked in frog blood, my mind is clouded with a whirlwind of discomfort, embarrassment, and, oh look, more embarrassment. If it were possible for someone to die of embarrassment, I'm pretty sure I'd be long gone by now.

Biana once again pokes her perfectly manicured finger at me, the devilish gleam in her eyes betraying her satisfaction. "Don't worry princess," she coos, "I know you're going to ask for your meal and for your massage but please be patient, this poor soul is tired."

The effort it takes to clench my fist is extraordinary, and the resulting pain is almost more than I can bear. But I do it anyway because I don't let snarky brats get the last word. Well, usually.

As I lie there, festering in humiliation, Biana pulls out a cloth from God knows where, adorned with a list of expenses. "One platinum coin for the meal, one platinum coin for the massage, One platinum coin for giving me a nightmare, One platinum coin for my lack of sleep, One platinum coin for making me deal with this bully..." Her voice drones on, each ridiculous claim adding fuel to my burning resentment. Just why the fuck is everything one platinum coin!? This is a scam!

With every fiber of my being, I gather my strength to show her exactly what I think of her ludicrous charges, by raising the universally understood finger of disdain. A wave of triumph washes over me, my middle finger standing proudly amidst the chaos.

Biana tuts, pretending to look disappointed. "Oh, that's not very nice, princess. I'll add that to your tab for emotional damage." She grins, clearly not bothered in the slightest by my act of rebellion.

I turn my gaze to Isadora, silently pleading for her intervention. She's my only hope in this farcical situation. She lifts her boot, and for a moment, I allow myself the indulgence of hope. Yes, kick her! But instead, she just continues walking, her attention focused solely on avoiding the frog remains scattered about. A fresh wave of disappointment hits me. She's completely ignoring me.

I can see the glint of sunlight filtering through the entrance of the ruined hallway we came through. I squint, eyes aching from the sudden exposure to light. I can't even remember the last time I saw the sun. It feels like an eternity since we entered these godforsaken ruins.

Suddenly, Isadora jumps forward without warning. My world is consumed by a rush of water as she plows through the waterfall. I sputter and cough, the sudden onslaught of cold water taking me by surprise. Damn it, Isadora. A little warning would have been nice.

Once we're out, Isadora places me on the grass, the sudden exposure to sunlight making me wince. I lay on my back, staring up at the bright, blue sky. God, I've missed the open sky.

Just as I start to drift off into the peace that the outside world brings, something hard smacks me straight on the face. "What the..." I mumble, reaching up to rub my aching nose. A pine cone. Of course, a pine cone. What better way to welcome me back to the world of the living? I scowl, tossing the offending object aside.

But as I move, I feel a sharp tug of pain. I grit my teeth against the wave of agony, forcing myself to sit up. It seems that I've been asleep for a while. It's a good thing. My wounds don't sting as badly as before, but moving is still a challenge. Damn you, Biana.

Glancing down at myself, I see that Isadora has used large leaves to cover my wounds. Well, at least she has some first-aid knowledge. "C-can you hand me my bag," I manage to say, my voice still shaky from the pain.

I knew it was a good idea to keep these feathers. While I'm patching myself up, Ilka makes her appearance, landing on my shoulder. "I got to say, you look like an Idiot with all those feathers hahaha," she snarks. I wonder if she'll ever change that shitty behavior. "I'd tell you to go to hell, but I'm pretty sure they'd send you back," I retort, shooting her a venomous glare.

Isadora watches me silently, her eyes unreadable. It's almost as if she's mocking me, but in her usual, nonchalant way. "What?" I snap, my patience wearing thin. W-why is she looking at me like that?

Isadora remains quiet, her silence filled with tension. I search her eyes for any hint of emotion, but all I see is an inscrutable veil. Her lips press together, her teeth gritting noticeably. I'm about to speak, to call her out, when I feel a sudden sting on my forehead.

She flicks me - hard, real fucking hard.

An involuntary gasp escapes my lips. "Damn it, Isadora," I curse under my breath. The spot where she hit me throbs with acute pain, her surprisingly strong flick sending shockwaves through my skull.

Without a word, she stands up, her boots imprinting on the soft grass beneath. She turns and begins to walk away, her stride purposeful, the sway of her hair caught in the gentle breeze the only indication of movement.

I groan, the pain in my forehead a steady reminder of her sudden, strange act. Just why did she have to do that? Fuck it hurts! She might as well slam my head against a rock.