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Fidel blinked. Was it really that hard, for God's sake.
"Emyrus, take the damn shirt off. I don't care if it always healed right away." she demanded, glaring at him. Her soul piped up a wary shudder, most likely sensing a fight. She knew quite a lot about soul connections, specifically what the consequences were when counterparts fought. Definitely not good.
She was just confused now, the anger she had felt earlier fading. Really now, did he hate her that much? Fidel tapped her foot impatiently, pouting slightly at the thought.
Separation between connected souls was a hazard to one's health, she learned. The subordinate would not make the same mistakes Lord Vash and (she clenched her fists) Halycon had made, or Lord Currise and Lord Evanescere. No, there was a lot more pain involved in that, and she didn't take to that idea.
So really, if Emyrus did hate her, there was a serious problem.
She sighed, looking up at him again. "Please?"

"Dammit, Emyrus," she huffed. "I'm not going to kill you." Although, she doubted she could, much less tackle him effectively. But of course, she wasn't short. The petite girl lifted her chin. Oh no, not at all. She raised an eyebrow and leveled a stare at the man.
"Give me one good reason why not." she commanded. Yes, the bandages itched and the Peroxide stung, but that was natural. His outright rebellion of something like this was just stupid.
Fidel shifted on her feet and placed the scissors back on the counter. She had been waving them around, and that probably didn't help. She wouldn't blame him for being hesitant when the person who was supposed to bandage you was waving scissors in your face.

Now, she could've sworn that men didn't have a problem with running around shirtless. Fidel sighed in resignation and poured the Peroxide on a cotton swab. She bit her lip. Those bruises and cuts looked really painful.
The girl bandaged her counterpart silently, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to treat the wounds on his face. She could still smell the cigarette smoke.
It didn't make sense. She was annoyed and confused and, earlier, downright furious with him. And now here she was, treating his stupidity with medical supplies in her own bathroom.
Her soul shuddered in perfect ecstasy when she lifted his chin to stick a band-aid on his cheek. Naturally, her soul wasn't confused. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if it was in complete harmony by the little touches. Fidel rolled her eyes to herself. It was silent. She guessed that if she asked questions, it would end up as another fight.
Soul connections required a lot more work than even her research could have told her.
She smiled and stood on her feet again, coming down from her tiptoes. Finished--well, not entirely, but the liar wanted to be stubborn and self conscious (really, that wasn't like him, but what did she know?).

Fidel paused, considering it.
"Hmm, I don't know," she said, smirking, "you'd look better as a mummy." She smiled again and put away the medical supplies, dusting her tiny hands off to show that she really was finished.
"No more fighting, please." her soul pleaded with her.
I can't promise anything. she thought, crossing her arms over her chest. Emyrus had so wonderfully caught her while she was sleeping, and she shivered, rubbing her arms, only wearing her nightgown. A few minutes of bliss, and then back to facing reality, which involved patching up her idiotic counterpart because he got the crap kicked out of him. He couldn't go back to the Purgier mansion yet (obviously), and he could never wander around the White Building.
Fidel walked out of the bathroom and sifted through her closet and threw a large blanket at the liar. She pointed to the couch lying in the corner of her room, near the window, then sat on the edge of her bed, sighing.
"Be careful next time, you stupid moron."

Fidel placed her face in her hands and sobbed once, rubbing her eyes again.
"Don't worry, he promised."
And that's a comfort? He's the greatest liar in Pendant. She rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling, ticking off the seconds in her mind.
"Mommy, why don't you go to sleep?"
"I'm waiting for your father to come home."
"Why?"
"Because I can't sleep until he comes back. I worry." Fidel laughed at herself. Not quite like that scenario, but if Emyrus didn't come back right away, she would personally see to it that she wrapped him up like a mummy until only his eyes were visible. She smiled and stared expectantly at the door, despite the fact that her counterpart would teleport back.
At this point, she was pretty sure he didn't hate her. At least, if he did, then their soul connections weren't working properly (properly? as if they were normal in the first place), and that was a problem. Lord Evanescere had created their soul connection artificially, but they were supposed to have the whole, wonderful package that came with any other normal connection.
But was that good, or bad?
She waited.

Fidel grunted, silently relieved that he came back in one piece. Wrapping him up entirely would take too long, anyway. She studied her counterpart for a moment before glancing at the alarm clock.
Four AM. She groaned. No doubt she would feel this in the morning--er, later today. The girl nodded and leaned over to light her candle, which, hopefully, was strong enough to get rid of the gagging smell of cigarette smoke.
The wonderful scent of daffodils wafted through her room, and she took a deep breath. Spring candles were amazing things to have.
She sunk under her covers and stared blankly at the flame of her candle. The information she promised to give Lord Vash replayed in her mind.
She didn't doubt that if Lord Evanescere discovered this, then he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. An artificial soul connection was not strong enough to merge her soul with Emyrus's, so she would be doomed, definitely. Permanently dead. Surprisingly, she didn't really care. Not that she was suicidal, of course not. She had Lord Vash's love and had made friends with Emyrus, her counterpart, and if she were to die right now, she couldn't think of a reason why it would be so bad. Although, she preferred to completely make up with the liar lying on her couch over there.
Maybe later today she'd ask him straight forward if he hated her. Fidel drifted into sleep, dead to the screeching of her alarm clock.

Just one more day, and then he would wash his hands clean of this and, hopefully, everything would go back to the twisted-not-really-even-close-to-normal way it was before. And again, Vash really appreciated the bad luck he always had. He really, really did. The noble ground his teeth and stared blankly at the wall. They had just woken from yet another lovely nightmare, and he didn't make any attempt to talk to the angry little boy next door yet. His emerald eyes drifted towards the door that connected their rooms and felt his soul twinge with guilt. He hadn't expected his counterpart to become so...well, like he was now, because of Fidel. Anakera had, in so many words, hinted at her disbelief of his ignorance. He truly appreciated her, of course, but there were some things he wanted to do without the help of the wishgranter, like repairing this eerie silence between Halycon and him. The Demon sneered and told him that the boy wasn't worth it, but his soul full heartedly (wait, what?) agreed. The last thing he would do was listen to his nasty little demon. Vash sat up and hesitantly knocked on the boy's door.
God, I know you hate me, but just give me a moment without a problem.