In the silence of the medical ward, as Zariel lay wrapped in thick gauze and several casts around his legs and hip, a faint voice pierced the silence.
"He fell…" Aurelia said with arguable suspicion. "His face is swollen."
"Slipped right on his nose," Lupin shamelessly said.
Aurelia blinked. "He's at the Third Stage of Body Refinement."
"...it was a lot of stairs…"
"But Dumb-Dumb can fly; how's it possible he… Ah! Did you beat him up!"
"You're right. She is cute." Vaan said, staring. "She is way too good for that bastard."
Cheeks flaring, Aurelia glared daggers into the two men. Zariel hated to sleep. Hated the dreams that held him by the reins, drowning him in torment. It had been a little over five years since he last closed his eyes to sleep, thanks to the Stigma of The Black Heavens. Now, he was cold to the touch, his body trembling with each breath he took.