Claude's heart raced with mounting panic as he felt Sel's absorbing his divine energy like a sponge but showing no signs of recovery. Her skin remained a deathly pale, her breathing shallow and labored, her limbs as lifeless as a corpse. The saint's brows furrowed in concentration and growing unease as he poured more and more of his divine healing power into her, but to no avail.
"Your holiness…" Layla cried out in a hoarse voice, tears streaking down her rosy cheeks. "Please, you must save her! I beg of you!"
The church helper watched anxiously as the patron saint, seemingly at a loss for the first time as the patron saint, his usually serene composure now fracturing into worry and confusion. Claude bit into his lips, trying harder to heal this woman, who had been plaguing his mind like a disease.
He felt a rising sense of desperation as each passing minute failed to produce any sign of improvement in the unconscious woman's condition. Claude's heart clenched in his chest, his immortal soul recoiling from the thought of failing his sacred, Goddess given, duty to heal and help those in need.
Moreover, he had many things to ask her. Many things to say. He could not lose her, not like this.
Claude slumped to the cold stone floor, his legs giving out from the underneath as exhaustion gripped his body like a vice. He clung to Sel's lifeless hand, his slender fingers trembling and slick with sweat as he struggled to maintain the flow of his divine energy into her comatose form.
The saint's heart ached with a pang of despair as he watched the last of the faithful, the alter boy and Layla, file out of the chapel, their footsteps echoing with a finality that made his soul cry out in anguish. They had lost faith; despair etched into every line of their faces as they left him alone with the burden of Sel's fate.
With the comfort of loneliness, tears streamed down Claude's porcelain cheeks as he bowed his head, his long silver hair falling like a veil around his face as he poured every last ounce of his divine energy into the unmoving woman beside him. He knew he should be able to heal her, to save her from the brink of death that threatened to claim her cruelly… but the harder he tried, the more his own strength seemed to fail him.
A choked sob escaped his bitten and bloodied lips as he pressed a gentle, desperate kiss to the back of Sel's hand, his breaking with the knowledge that he had failed her. Failed to heal, failed to heal the one person who seemed to love him desperately. The thought of losing her, of never seeing her cotton candy hair or hearing her soft voice calling out his name made his heart hurt.
He felt so helpless once again.
A young boy helpless to hunger and adults' anger.
Yet even in his despair, Claude's determination to save her hadn't wavered who had so recently become the center of his small, simple world in a way he did not want to acknowledge. With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and focused all of his remaining strength, pouring his very essence into her in a last desperate attempt to bring her back from the vile hands of death.
One of his pearl-like tears sunk into her chest. As if the Goddess had heard his silent prayers and anguished sobs, a golden light radiated from her chest. Claude felt that familiar warmth of divine energy enveloping him and Sel.
A broken smile graced his lips as Claude gazed upon the miraculous sight before him in stunned disbelief, his weary, reddened eyes wife and brimming with fresh tears of joy and relief as the golden aura enveloped both of them. The desperate hope was relit in his racing heart, and he didn't dare let go of it.
When he saw her chest rise and fall with a much needed, gasping breath, Claude out a choked sob of relief. His fingers tightened around her hand, as if he feared she would slip away from him once again. He held his breath as he watched her slowing returning to the land of the living, marveling at the pink tint that had begun to return to her pale cheeks.
Sel clutched her head, a throbbing headache that felt like her head as being split was graciously a side effect of being healed by divine energy. She blinked her eyes, trying to adjust her blurry and unclear vision to make out what was infront of her.
Claude watched her hold her forehead in pain and suddenly felt the sharp throb in his own head, a grim reminder of just how much of a strain he had put himself through in his desperate attempt to save her. He was strictly told not to push himself too far because of his weak constitution.
"Excuse me… where am I?" Sel asked, her, typically, soft voice was hoarse from days of being comatose.
His heart raced as he heard those first words, words that weren't moans of his name and apologies for defiling him mentally. His heart started thumping unnaturally so much so that he checked if he had sustained some injuries too. He gazed upon her haggard face, still flushed and disoriented, and felt another pang in his chest as he realized that this was their second encounter — and likely the first where she couldn't flee.
"Fear not, faithful," Claude murmured, his melodic voice soft and soothing as he gently squeezed her hand. "We are in the chapel, in the house of the Goddess. I am Claude, the patron saint of Bloom. I have been praying for your recovery."
His eyes shone with a tender, almost fond light as he gazed upon her figure. He knew she couldn't see him clearly, couldn't run away this time. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand.
"You have been ill for three whole days, but you are safe now, safe in the hands of the Goddess…" Claude started softly, the gentle stroking halting as he continued, "and in my care. I will not leave your side until you are fully healed and recovered.
His voice held a sense of finality that would've made Sel frown if she wasn't so flabbergasted by this sudden revelation.
He was holding her hand right?
He was definitely holding her hand!!
"P-p-patron saint?" She stammered and pulled her hand away. Her eyesight was still blurry, but she could see the blob of that haunting silver. Her face was fully red, as if she hadn't been a deathly pale a few minutes ago.
Claude felt a pang of disappointment when she pulled her hand away, instinctively wanting to hold onto the only connection that had sustained him through such a harrowing ordeal. He saw the flush of embarrassment and perhaps something more in her cheeks. His own ears reddened underneath the hood of his saint robes.
He nodded gently, his long, silver hair swaying like an ethereal curtain as he gazed at her with a mix of concern and tentative hope. His heart raced at the prospect of speaking with her again after all that had transpired, the need for caution warring with the desperate urge to hear her voice again.
"You're safe now." He reassured; he didn't know why he said, but it felt necessary.
"Do you remember what brought you to this state?" He asked with furrowed eyebrows, gazing up at her figure gingerly sitting up on the pew.
"Uhm…" Sel thought about it for a while. She had heard through the grape vine that the patron saint liked dragon fruit. It was an exotic fruit that didn't even grow in Meridia. However, it wasn't like that that had ever stopped her, she managed to grow a singular fruit before collapsing onto the floor. So, she lied.
"No, I don't recall how I fell ill." The lie fell effortlessly from her lips; she had lied many times to many nobles when they had tried to haggle prices with her.
Claude's brows furrowed slightly, sensing the omission behind her words even as he looked directly at her calm yet red face. The innocence of his eyes and ears always seemed to allow him to pierce through any deceit, but he did not press the matter further, knowing that trust and openness came with time, not with force.
"I see." He murmured softly, his voice like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. "No matter. What is important is that you are here now with us. I must ask you, faithful, to stay here in our sanctuary so that I might watch over you and guide you back to full health."
Sel's ears reddened, her neck flushing with that red he was so familiar with. He knew she was about to reject him, so he mentally prepared himself to continue to coax her.
"Patron saint, you must be tired. Please get some rest. I don't want to burden your holiness." She squeaked out.
Throwing off his exhaustion, the patron saint slowly rose to his feet, the stone floor cool against his bare feet. He reached out to gently take her hand once more, his slender fingers wrapping around her calloused hand with a gentleness that made her pulse race.
"Pray tell, faithful," Claude began, his voice low and imploring, "how can I rest when a child of the goddess is still recovering? No, I cannot let you go back home, not after… after all that had happened."
Sel didn't catch the implication in his words, due to the lack of knowledge that her nightly activities had been watched and thought about.
'He's so kind.' She thought dreamily.
Claude heaved a breath, a blush rising to his own colouring and implored her again gently, "You must let me help you with your recovery. It is my duty and…" my deepest wish.
Sel was mentally crying. Ah! This stupid patron saint, so cute!
"Patron saint, if you really wish to then… I will allow it." Sel glanced away in embarrassment; it wasn't like she could see him anyway, but her face reduces to a thin layer when it came to him. Her thick skin, where are you?
'If I had known I had to get sick for him to fawn this much over me, I would've done it sooner.' Sel thought inwardly, feeling his gentle fingers on hers. Be still, stupid heart!
Claude nodded shyly at her response, his finger tightening gently around her hand. Her friend, Layla, had scolded Sel through tears for working herself to death. He made a very determined and silent vow to make her promise to never overwork herself.