High-pitched ringing erupts in your ears, drowning out all other sounds.
Persistent, relentless and insistent as you struggle to keep your balance. Slowly your vision blurs, the edges of your surroundings fading into an indistinct haze.
Struggling to sit down, you feel unsteady and weak on your feet, as if they can no longer support your weight.
Above the hum, a voice eventually rises, calling out to you. Confused, you struggle to recognise it, but are suddenly embraced by strong arms.
"Didn't I tell you to be careful what you drink?"
Zevlor. Unmistakable.
Effortlessly, as if you weigh no more than a feather, he lifts your body and holds you close to his chest. Not only can you hear his heartbeat, but you can also feel the rapid rhythmic pounding against your cheek as you bury your face in the soft fabric of his cotton shirt.
Then, a distinctive spicy scent blends your senses with a delicate sweet touch. His warm infernal nature succeeds in dazing you even further.
Every single cup you refused. You try to explain this in slurred speech. Believing to gesticulate emphatically, but you remain powerless in the warm embrace.
“What you were holding seemed to be more than just some grape juice.”
Barely paying attention to his words, you listen to his steady breathing, the murmur with which he speaks to you.
Because of his calmness and gentle treatment of you, you only let him give you drinks. Apparently that wasn't enough. At some point, you think, you must have been careless. Fortunately, he was there immediately. In any case, you can't think about it any further.
Swaying movements are keeping you dreaming sweetly, as if you are floating on an ocean of black endlessness and it seems as if you were never meant to voyage so far.
