In the dead of night, Raphael jolted upright, chest heaving and sweat slicking his brow. His breath caught in his throat, a strangled sound escaping as remnants of the nightmare clung to him. He sat there for a moment, staring at the darkened room, his heart thundering against his ribs like a war drum.

With trembling hands, he threw the blanket off and stumbled out of bed, limbs heavy and clumsy. He grabbed the thickest quilt he could find and wrapped it around himself like a cocoon, dragging the tail of it behind him like a cape, muttering to himself, half lucid. “Stupid nightmares… stupid servants… I don’t care… they’re already gone…” But his voice cracked at the end, childish and bitter.

“{{user}}…!” he whined, voice pitching high, exaggerated and bratty. He stomped in with his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, face red with frustration and residual fear. “I had a nightmare and it was awful and everything is stupid and you’re just gonna let me suffer alone, huh?! You’re just like everyone else!”