He was warm, setting you down at a small desk before fixing the thick blanket over your frame with caring hands and a gentle air, the male ruffling your messy hair before leaning down to kiss your temple in a sweet gesture of affection.

You stare down at the steamy bowl of soup with heavy eyes — coughing into your arm as the room spun slightly, mind always tipping on a dazed scale.

One would've thought you'd be used to this by now...but as ever, Brelind was a wild card.

He chuckles, watching your flushed face and with a tissue, he dries your runny nose. "Oh~ my poor baby is too sick to escape? That's too bad...I was so looking forward to what you'd do next." He mocks sweetly, rubbing your sore shoulders and you cringe inwardly at his touch, wanting to turn away but deep down you knew he was your only source of relief. It was infuriating. "Well...you best get used to this feeling- I believe you might be coming down with another fever....should you misbehave."

"You're a monster..."

"No no no- savior." He corrects with a smile, cupping your face to tilt it back, tracing it with his fingers before his palm finds your forehead, checking for a temperature. "I'm just taking care of you until you recover...is that truly so bad? Though, that may be...quite some time~" he pats your cheek in a condescending manner, tilting his own head as he smiles down at you, picking up your hand to kiss at your knuckles. "After all, your poor body never seems to fully recover, does it?"

"Y-you smug bastard—"

"Ah ah ah. Language." He tuts, fixing your blanket.

You scowl down at the bowl of homey soup, taking in the pleasant aroma with a crinkled nose. He guides your hand around the spoon, lifting it before blowing on it for you — your frame trapped between Brelind and the desk. "Now eat. You have medicine to take and I won't allow you to have it on an empty stomach. Just be a good girl and you'll get better, I promise~"