far from reality [ONGOING]

Artesiam lay on the hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. The bed felt all too familiar, the same one she had occupied the last time Yen had unceremoniously thrown her onto the cold, unforgiving floor. The memory of that moment flashed in her mind--a mix of pain and humiliation that she could never forget.

"So, what happened?"

Her voice was steady, attempting to carry the weight of authority, but the bandages and the awkward angle of her neck cast betrayed her vulnerability.

Yen, however, was anything but serious. She was smirking, her eyes dancing with mischief as she doodled on Artesiam's neck cast with a bright pink marker. The scratch of the pen against the hard surface grated on Artesiam’s nerves, each stroke pulling her further away from the clarity she sought.

They were back in the Sentinels' building, the same west wing where the lab once buzzed with activity--until the explosion. The walls now seemed to whisper about the incident, and the staff avoided eye contact as if their mere presence could trigger another catastrophe.

The rumor had spread like wildfire: that the machine hadn’t just malfunctioned--it had reacted to something inhuman within Artesiam. She was no longer just another candidate; she was a demon in their eyes, cursed, and now feared by all.

Louge, seated stiffly beside the bed, crossed his arms, his gaze cool and calculating. "We should be the ones asking you that," he said, his voice carrying an edge of skepticism. Yen barely acknowledged him, too absorbed in her impromptu artwork on Artesiam’s cast.

Artesiam tried to focus, staring up at the sterile, white ceiling as if it held the answers she sought. But the incessant scratching noise from the pen was like nails on a chalkboard, fraying the edges of her patience.

With a surge of irritation, she twisted her neck as much as the cast would allow and snapped, "Will you fucking quit that? I can't focus with all the scritches!"

Yen barely glanced at Artesiam’s glare, her fingers still busy with the pink marker. "The cast is like begging for my attention," she mused, her tone light, almost playful. Artesiam's jaw tightened, a dull ache radiating through her teeth from the force of her clenching.

Louge, the only one in the room who seemed to retain a shred of sanity, leaned forward, his brows furrowed. "Why would you even need a cast? You're healed," he asked, his voice laced with incredulity.

Artesiam inhaled sharply, trying to calm the growing storm within her. Every flicker of anger sent jolts of pain through her body, like shards of glass scraping against her bones. "I don't feel healed at all," she muttered, exhaling a long, frustrated sigh. Carefully, she eased her head back into a less painful position. "Every little move, I can feel my bones twitching. Even as I speak--mph!"

Louge looked away, exhaling in exasperation. He could have been back at the academy, immersed in study, but instead, he was stuck here, babysitting these two who seemed to thrive on making his life a living hell. Especially Baeyen. The commander had a way of turning every situation into a headache-inducing ordeal.

"Well, because Commander Baeyen did a number on you," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the far corner of the room. He could almost see it--any minute now, a one-sided argument would erupt between the two, just like it had countless times since Artesiam regained consciousness. And it hadn't even been two hours.

Artesiam’s eyes darkened, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "You what ..." The room seemed to tense with her words, and Yen, sensing the shift, let out a nervous laugh but continued her doodling, unbothered.

Louge sighed inwardly. Prediction confirmed. It was astounding, really. Artesiam didn’t bother hiding her disdain for Yen, and Yen, in turn, seemed to take perverse pleasure in pushing her buttons. Louge could see the reason behind her annoyanc--thry were too alike, cut from the same cloth, only in different patterns. It must have been infuriating for Artesiam to face someone who mirrored her own worst traits.

But being in the middle of it? It was pure torture. Louge could almost feel the wrinkles deepening on his forehead, the gray hairs sprouting faster with each petty exchange.

"In my humblest humble I could humble on my humble opinion," Yen raised a finger, her tone dripping with faux sincerity. Louge fought the urge to groan out loud. He just wanted to go home. "I was conducting an experiment that could help you in the future."

Louge barely suppressed an eye roll. That wasn’t even an opinion, but the exhaustion in his bones made it impossible to muster a response.

"By torturing me?" Artesiam shot back, her eyes narrowing.

"Yup," Yen replied, popping the 'p' with a smirk.

"You're such a bi—"

"Hey, don't blame me that you're weak," Yen cut in smoothly.

And with that, the bickering began in earnest, their voices rising and falling like a chaotic symphony of irritation. Louge’s mind drifted as he stared at the wall, wondering how many times he would need to slam his head against it to escape this nightmare. Death seemed like a kinder option than enduring another minute of their endless, infuriating banter.

If only he didn’t have personal matters weighing on him.

"Can you two tone it down?!" Louge groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. To his surprise, the room actually quieted down, their bickering replaced by a tense silence.

Yen’s grin grew mischievous, and she leaned in close to Artesiam, her voice a playful whisper. "That’s his polite way of saying, ‘Shut the hell up!’" Her words were followed by a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the air. Artesiam glanced at Louge, her eyes glinting with teasing amusement.

Louge clicked his tongue in irritation, his patience wearing thin. "Artesiam, just get on with it. I’ve got an hour before they mark me as absent."

"Dude, aren't we already absent?" Artesiam’s brow arched, her tone skeptical.

"No," he replied, his voice clipped. "I’m excused. You, on the other hand, are not."

Her expression shifted from disbelief to barely contained fury. "What?!"

Louge shrugged, unaffected by her anger. "You're only a student. I’m in the Paladin, which gives me the freedom to roam as I please. But I’ve got just one hour during class time before they start marking me absent."

Artesiam huffed, clearly seething but holding back—likely because they were in a private space where screaming wasn’t exactly encouraged.

Louge turned to Yen, who was still engrossed in her scribbling. "So? What made you summon me here too? I suggest you get to the point--I don’t plan on getting a red mark on my report card."

For a moment, Yen froze, her pen hovering just above the cast. She hummed, that familiar sound she made when deep in thought, weighing whether Louge’s concern was worth breaking her concentration for. "I don’t think you’ll need to worry about red marks on your report card," she finally said, her tone oddly calm.

Louge’s brow furrowed, irritation flashing in his eyes. Of course, Yen couldn’t just get to the point. She always had to be cryptic. "I don’t follow," he muttered, the impatience clear in his voice.

Yen craned her neck slightly to glance at him, her expression unreadable. "Oh, you don’t know? The academy was attacked."

Louge’s world tilted. His jaw dropped, and his stomach churned with sudden dread. He shot to his feet so quickly the chair clattered to the floor. "What?! Then I need to go! They might need backup!"

He turned to leave, but Yen’s hand shot out, gripping his arm with iron strength. "I’ll explain when you calm down."

Explain what? The explanation was already clear--the academy was under attack! What more was there to say?

But something in Yen’s eyes made him pause, the tension in the room thickening like a gathering storm. Reluctantly, he sat back down, his heart hammering in his chest.

"The truth is…" Yen finally set the marker aside and swiveled her chair to face him fully, her expression now dead serious. "I asked Miss Zam to let you come with Artesiam under the guise of needing to assess her abilities as her trainer."

Louge’s breath caught in his throat, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. He already didn’t like where this was headed.

Yen held his gaze, her voice steady. "You know what you're capable of, right?"