𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍.

⠀ ⠀𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑰𝑵𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑵, 𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑺. ⠀⠀𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍. — senior advisor to the german minister ⠀⠀of magic. a hotshot hitwizard before ⠀⠀moving to politics. an oc penned by ⠀⠀angkasa. ⠀⠀

Cornelis.

His condition worsened this morning. It looks like the healers aren't going to release him anytime soon.

“Reinhardt.” He sighs. He always knew that she wasn't fully ready yet. “You're not just some auror anymore. Kaiser will do the heavy lifting on the politics, I just need you to be there and make sure the facts that she's saying are correct.”

“Give her my thanks, Lawrence. I hope the healers don't put me in a diet where I won't be able to eat them.” He glanced to the side, where the charm was placed next to his bed. “Ah. They said it did work but the poison was too strong. Just enough for me to still be breathing.”

Danke, Lawrence.

A shrug at the vampire's question. He's recovering and not dead at the very least. “Stronger than the ale we had in Belgrade, that's for sure.” Humour's probably the last thing to be associated with both of them, but they have their moments. “I hope that's not a parting gift.”

“Ja. Long red hair, medium build, tattoo on her left wrist.” He sighs. The last thing he wants is to be chained to a hospital bed. “Reinhardt, the healers doubt I'll be out anytime soon. You will have to be the one accompanying Kaiser.”

He would chuckle but by Faust his ribs would somehow hurt if he does that. ⠀⠀“They said I looked as good as dead when they brought me in a few days ago.”

“Nein.” He was glad that the both of them decided to skip the small talk, like he had any energy for it. “It wasn't one of the usual waitresses and it was too late the moment I've noticed it.”

Cornelis had just woken up from his nap as he entered the room. ⠀“Lawrence.” he greeted, voice still slightly coarse.

One of the healers has told her that he had asked for her to come in, though whilst also insinuating that she shouldn't stay for long as the wizard needed his rest.

Mumbling something under his breath in the hospital bed as the healers leave.

He wanted to reach out and hold her hand but lifting a finger felt impossible. When she touched her forehead, it felt cold — the lack of warmth that one would feel from a corpse. Even after two days, he was still barely hanging on. “Not—” he tries to speak, “—safe. . .”

Stirring as his vision can only see movements in the form of shadows around him. His whole body still feels heavy.

He has gained a small bit of consciousness since the incident, albeit still unaware of his surroundings as the healers do their regular check up.

Delusional