Angelina's

The ocean is blue. But it can also be mingled with algae, and so it becomes blue and green. The ocean and the algae, they move together in some kind of wave dance; and when you see, golden fish the size of needles are swimming there in the middle. You try to understand the reason of these fish, and what they want, and why they swim so beautifully, and why the vision of them looked so familiar.

"Angel? I know you are there, woman. Talk to me."

The ocean, the algae and the golden fish then swan together in a tornado, and Oliver blinked.

I blinked too.

There was nothing I could say to respond his wishes. Nothing came in mind. I was used to that; to the nothing.

"Tell the doctor she is awake and needs intensive treatment. Call the kitchen, she also needs food; the most nutritive stuff they find. And do not forget to reschedule my appointment with the president for tomorrow."

"Yes, commander." - A low voice I knew was coming from a yes-person said at some corner. I heard steps, again, but this time the steps were light and quickly, and out of the room. I was still with my eyes fixed on Oliver's face.

When I talk about Oliver, I usually talk about his eyes. As though his eyes were the only fount of extremely beauty throughout his face. Yes, his eyes are beautiful. But I talk first about them not because of their color or their bright - as if these characteristics were of importance... his eyes would have the same beauty being brown, black or gray. The fact is that I like talking about them, because it is when I look inside his eyes that I see his soul, and in what mood he is in, and if I am allowed to look deeper or not.

Unlike the 19 old Oliver I met ten years ago, this new version of himself was always obscured by a thin beard. It was shaved almost everyday (I have seen him shaving), smelled mint, and when I had the chance to touch, it was like touching the most dangerous part of a lion's mane. His beard was perfect, lining both curves of his jaw, and disappearing as his neck raised. I could see the two cords that shaped the strength of his neck, which vibrated when he spoke and I was accommodated under his chin. I also learned to differ the types of vibration, as from fear, angriness or pleasure.

Once I was with Aleksei in my closet, choosing a dress to give Kennedy, as Oliver could not know about his secret passion at the time yet. We were talking about clothing, and how dresses fit perfectly in my porcelain skin. Then he mentioned men's clothing, and how they also fit perfectly in Oliver's granite moves. I laughed, because I'd never thought about the difference between porcelain and granite. But since then I see it clearly.

He had always been a warrior, I can't think of anything else he could be except leadership. And while I was watching him towering over me, in that room, I was sure I had met Nature, with all precipices and danger she might lead me into.

"Hey, Angel, how are you feeling?"

"Good."

Pretty good, actually.

"Is there something you want me to bring?"

I was going to nod no.

"... something beginning with a C?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Coconut candy? Yes!" I raised my head from the pillow, to get closer to him and smell his perfume, but he pushed me back.

"A hundred and ten kilometers to get you coconut. This one was expensive."

"I told you it was not necessary, but you insisted..."

"Did I?" He asked in a mocking manner, but I decided it was best to answer seriously.

"Yes. I said 'I don't want coconut if that's so difficult to get.' - and you said 'Now I am the one who wants it. Alek, go get me some coconut.' - we were at the dinner table, remember?"

"No, I don't remember."

I felt like jumping out of that bed straight to his neck and never letting go.

Toc toc.

"Excuse us, Master. Here is Miss Firenze's meal."

He looked over his shoulders to the door's direction, made a signal for them to enter, and turned to me again. "This conversation is not over; the coconuts were pretty expensive and I deserve a fair payment."

There was the sound of my portable table rolling its wheels towards the bed. Oliver stepped out of the way, but I had no time to say goodbye from between the arms and bowls and napkins, he was gone.

•••
🔸🔸🔸

Sebastian's

"Breathe, Lucy." I wet another gauze into a solution that helped with burns. The sick bay still didn't have a solution against Damon Burns, but we made our best. Lucy's nose was also injured, and in very bad conditions.

It turned out that Damon Collins was not the only one with the power of injuring people with his devilish skin, and whoever else had the devil in his DNA was now massacring our Arians on the face with one single hand. It could be "she", nobody knew who was the rebel responsible for the attacks. Damon was dead but his burden have stayed.

The door opened, and soon another nurse was by my side with a pile of documents. He showed Lucy the black file and asked her full name and a few things about how she'd gotten the injury, and how fast she was used to healing, and asked about her alimentation too. "The injury... I don't know how it happened. I remember a hand. A male one, I am sure: very large." She whimpered a bit. "I live upstairs so I never get injured. Something big like this on my forehead, I think I would take like 3 months to heal?"

"3 months is a lot", I said, "but I agree with you. And your alimentation?"

"Good. I eat fine."

People upstairs eat fine.

The nurse thanked the answers and left. I was alone once again with this girl I cared about so much, and the weight of having her healing in my hands. If it wasn't for Snowfileds, this wouldn't have happened.