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For the time it took Wolframite to finish tending to her wounds, Laven had remained motionless in a dreamless sleep atop his fur-covered bed.

Exhaustion kept her mind tightly wrapped in its dark embrace where times was a relative thing. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours and in that time the venom had dissipated and along with it the aching pain in her libs and chest. All that remained was the uncomfortable pull along each cut every time she drew a breath.

Eventually, Lavendulan stirred but only enough to shift into a more comfortable position. For a moment she appeared to teeter along the fine line between trying to rouse herself from the deep sleep or slip back comfortably into the peaceful state she was in when, like an overgrown housecat, she drew in a deeper breath and stretched pulling from her tiny almost animalistic sounds before rubbing her face against the soft pelt that had been draped across his pillow and relaxing once more.

It seemed, for now, that sleep had won. That was until her mind registered that the gentle softness beneath did not feel nor smell like her own pillow.

Her brows furrowed in confusion and while her body resisted, Laven’s eyes opened slowly.

She blinked several times to clear her cloudy vision. Like a dream within a dream, it felt so surreal being in a room that was not her own, on a bed that did not belong to her, with a man sitting beside her with whom she did not recognize.

Confused and disoriented, Lavendulan’s mind remained caught in a foggy haze. Her brows knitted together as she desperately racked her mind trying to figure out what had happened after her fight with Wolframite. The last thing she remembered was shifting form and rolling out from under him before swinging her arm in his direction then falling over sideways in the same motion. From where she laid, Laven could recall the sound of gravel shifting beneath footsteps as someone approached, but try as she might she had no idea with whom they belonged to.

A quick glance to the other side of the room revealed several more pelts that had been strewn across the room. Had someone else found her laying on the ground and thought her scales would be a nice addition to their collection? That thought alone was enough to elicit a near-feral reaction as her pupils pulled tight into thin slits and youma instincts seemed to take control.

Her upper lip curled and muscles tensed as a low growl reverberated in her chest. It was the only warning the young man received before Lavendulan sat up abruptly and half lunged, half throw herself at him. The bowl in his hands clamored on the ground splashing water all over the place as the two tumbled off the side of the bed onto the floor.

“Who are you?” She snarled.

Lavendulan’s issued a warning growl in response to his surprisingly gentle touch but did no pull away. Instead, her fingers curled ever so slightly when he offered a name she did not immediately recognize, just enough to bring awareness to how sharp her claws really were and how close she was to giving him permanent gill-like scars along both sides of his neck if he wasn’t careful.

Winter... Not the season but a name.

Winter…A name from a recent conversation but one she couldn’t recall.

Laven squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head out of sheer frustration. Why did it sound so familiar?

A brief memory of a purple half youma with soft golden eyes and purple pointed ears atop his head come to mind. With a smile, he offered to her one of his paw-like hands as a friendly gesture. ‘Lieutenant Wolframite. I go by Winter when I’m glamoured,’ he said by way of an introduction.

“Oh, God.” Her eyes snapped open then, pupils more normal than before as she looked down at him. “I’m sorry…I-” She what? Didn’t meant to tackle him to the ground and nearly strangle him to death? That would have been a bald-faced lie because she was damn near ready to rip out his throat thinking he was about to add her hide to his leathery collection.

With the sudden realization of who exactly she was sitting on top of, the remnants of what little strength she had left finally gave way as she slumped over and fell against his side. If her horns happened to jab him in the shoulder she would offer him no sympathy because he damn well deserved it for what he had done to hers.

Normally the cool dampness of the bottle pressed against her cheek wouldn’t phase her in the slightest, much like the way she found comfort in his careful ministrations when he used the cool cloth to wipe the blood off her face. However, this time it annoyed her greatly.

Laven turned her head away from him and in doing so let out a sound that was a cross between a lazy growl and tired groan. “Stop…” she glared up at Winter through partially opened lids and batted his hand and bottle away from her face. However, when that didn’t seem to work she rolled over and turned her back completely to him instead.

Her pride, assuming she had any, had been bruised and body battered. Yet despite feeling extremely dehydrated, the only thing Lavendulan could think about was sleep. That dreamless darkness where her mind could find peace and finally rest.

As she swam in the depths of pure exhaustion, Lavendulan remained oblivious to the dutiful overseer that checked on her from time to time and at some point covered her with a warm weighted blanket.

Hours passed before she stirred again. The hushed sound of voices in the distance beckoned her from the blissful slumber but try as she might, she couldn’t make out the words. “Hmm?” Her brows furrowed yet her eyes remained shut

Laven shook her head in reply and made a groaning sound that sounded more like a no than an actual coherent word; at least she didn’t want to be.

Never in her life did she feel more like that cat meme her classmate shared with her the weekend she had gone on her trip last winter. ‘I can’t get out of bed…’ it said along the top of an image of a grey kitten with the most content look on its face. ‘These blankets have accepted me as one of their own and if I leave now I might lose their trust.’ The same could be said for how she felt right now, despite this not being her room, his bed was the softest thing she had slept on in months.

A few moments passed before she was finally able to rouse herself awake enough to roll over onto her back and look up at the ceiling in a bit of a daze. Turning her head to the side her gaze settled on those familiar soft golden eyes that were not unlike dual full moons with a backdrop of a deep purple cloudless sky.

Far more calm than the last time she woke up, Laven just simply watched him with slow, languid blinks, in that sort of half-awake half-asleep kind of way. Her expression shifted minutely in a way that suggests she was something very clearly on her mind but had no intention of saying anything quite yet.

It was almost as if the drink had somehow offended her by the way her eyes narrowed in an almost annoyed glare. But after after a few moments passed, Lavendulan moved to prop herself up on her elbows; an action she regretted near-instantly causing her to draw in a hissing breath. "Oww…"

There was a pain associated with exercise that actually felt good in away. But this feeling… it sucked. "Just water please," she swiped her tongue over dry lips "hold the venom…" Probably not the kindest thing to say after he had just spent the last however many hours watching over her while she slept. But the remembrance of that burning sensation was not something she would soon forget.

With a bit of added effort, she sat up the rest of the way and allowed her head to simply fall forward. A waterfall of soft blue hair slid over her scaled shoulders sheiling her expression temporarily from view. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Lavendulan reached up to tuck the hair back around her horns and behind her ears while he rummaged through the fridge for something else for her to drink.

When he returned to the bedside and offered her the blessedly cold bottle of water she had asked for, Laven looked up at him almost warily. Her motions were hesitant which in a way made sense considering the last time she saw him in this form he did not wear the same expression as when they first met. No, it had been a mix of anger and frustration and blood… her blood as she lashed out at him with the whip of water.

At the mentioned food, she shook her head again. Rarely did she ever eat anything after just waking up. Perhaps in an hour or two hunger might set in, perhaps not. Either way, the thought of it made her stomach churn unpleasantly. Instead, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank greedily. Half disappeared before she finally stopped to take a breath. The pure taste of it was refreshing it nearly pulled a content purr from her had there not of been the need to finish off the rest.

Placing the now empty bottle in her lap she considered Wolframite's question carefully. What do I think? Laven worried her lower lip. With her gaze fixated on an arbitrary spot on the bed, her head tilted from one side to the other in contemplation before finally looking back up at Wolframite. "Think about what exactly?" She asked almost evasively since there were simply far too many jumbled thoughts to just up and pick one without worrying about saying something that she otherwise shouldn’t.

“Stop it.” Like when a mother would scold an errant child there was an almost admonishing tone in her voice.

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes in an annoyed fashion, then scooted over and patted a spot on the bed beside her. “You know damn well I hit my head and it was your fault it happened.” she snapped back at him. Granted she returned the favor when tackling him off the side of the bed but that was something she’d rather not think about right now.

“I really don’t want to fight with you,” She sighed and shook her head like before. “Please just sit down.” Pupils fluctuating in shape and size, she turned to look away from him as she felt the youma in her stir in response to his agitation.