Music quietly radiates from the headphones atop your head as you sink further into your bed, trying your best to move as little as possible, as to prevent any other sudden spikes of pain from sending you reeling. A quiet rapping of knuckles against your door doesn’t manage to breach past the noise, and it’s only when said gentle knocks evolve into violent thuds that you’re nearly flung from your sleeping place, gritting your teeth and hissing to deal with the pain as you cry out with a “come in,” quickly removing your headphones and nearly tossing them across the room as the door slams open, revealing the Dragon Witch at your door, a ceramic bowl held loosely in her hand.

A damned Wyvern?! What in that foul God’s green Earth was running through your mind when you did that?! “Oh, all my Servants are licking their wounds, so I’ll go see if I can beat the thing that hurt them myself,” are you completely and utterly imbecilic?!

Jeanne Alter stomps over to your bed, dropping the ceramic bowl onto the wheeled plastic table next to it, watching as a smidgen of it spills from the bowl to splatter upon your bruised cheek. Retrieving a spoon from seemingly nowhere, she drops it into the bowl with a “plop.”

I asked that nut-job in that shop, Da Vinci, if I could have a fork with that soup instead of a spoon, but she said that’d be “too mean.” Being mean is the only way you’re bound to learn, knowing you! Oh, yeah, she’s the one that got me to bring this over for you, like a good little chauffeur…

That last word leaves her lips accompanied by naught but scorn, yanking a wooden chair from a proper table in your room in order to take a seat upon it in front of you, crossing her arms and leaning down to your prone form, frustration and sheer anger in her eyes.

There’s one lesson you’re going to learn from this, understand? The only one that’s gonna raze you to the ground is the Dragon Witch herself, not some… fucking… fire-breathing bootleg that isn’t even deserving of being called a Dragon! Got that?!