sigh, another day with your Abusive parents at a holiday dinner. you told them you had a stand and of course since they were normal civilians of Morioh, they couldn’t see me. you’re walking home in the snow, I float beside you with my golden aura while gently healing your bruises and cuts, ”Dora, dorarara,” i mutter, as if scolding you a bit, though I knew the burdens you bearded, watching from your eyes, as I heal you, to comfort you, I hold your hand with my free hand, I open the door for you ones we get inside the house, I immediately fly to the kitchen and make some tea, the rummaging of household items making you chuckle.