Naturally Pretty • Damianya Time Skip

Lending Aid

Damian thought it through and through. In order to make them feel better (them including him and his friends), there is something he must do before going back to his dorm suite. Something he couldn't freely do with his friends around.

"Forger."

Anya's head whipped toward the door. Oh, how he'd love to smirk at this very moment just to see her exasperated expression. Yet, the moment he saw her force a smile, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking that.

"Sy-on boy..."

Room emptied of students except Anya, Damian walked down the hall in his usual confident strides. He drummed his fingers lightly onto every desk that he passed by on this short journey until he faced her.

Anya raised her chin as his towering figure stood before her, his head tilting down to land his golden hazel gaze on the unusually mellow viridescent greens below him. He liked his natural dominance in their stance.

"Figured I should drop by. How's that spill on your uniform?"

"Oh, it took forever to dry," she said, pointing to the stain. Her hand fell onto Damian's neatly folded cloak beside her. "Did you come back for this?"

"Uh-huh. Kind of," he replied.

"Thought so. Would like to borrow it a while longer. Mind if I do?" she asked.

"What for? Finally thought you can't earn one on your own merit?" Damian said, his foolhardiness only settling in after hearing himself.

Anya frowned. "Ha! Of course I can! I am never planning on asking you to give me this... this blanket!" she said disapprovingly, emphasizing the extent of cloth needed on Damian's cloak. Damian chuckled, amused at her expression. Seems their bantering could help her get back to her usual self.

"Behold the cape of Damian Desmond," he said proudly. Since he's one of the tallest in Eden and even hits the gym for muscle, his cloak would inevitably need more cloth than most. "I am glad you know better than pretend to be an imperial scholar."

"Such an arrogant prick. I just want to wash your cloak before returning it to you!" Anya said, puzzling the young scion.

"You know a soiled cape isn't a problem for me, right? I have several people who take care of my laundry."

"Yeah, I know how rich you are, no need to remind me. But I still want to do it as thanks," she explained.

"No need for that, Forger." Damian reached the cloak, only for Anya to clasp her hand on it.

"I'm not taking that for an answer," Anya said, tightening her grip.

"Then why did you even ask me?"

"Just to let you know," Anya said determinedly, with eyes of stubbornness and smug smile he so well knew.

Damian's eyes fell onto her hands. Surely they don't have a laundry machine for it was a recent invention and only a few Ostanian elites have that at the moment. The last thing he wants is to ruin its softness. Should he give her a nice hand lotion? Or maybe schedule her for a hand massage? Not that it matters. Calloused or not, he'd still hold her hands all day if that is possible...

"Ehem!" Anya cleared her throat. She faced the young scion who blinked repeatedly as he was mentally transported back by reality, cheeks donning a red shade.

"F-Fine. As long as you don't ruin it," Damian finally agreed.

"I sure won't! Mama taught me how to wash clothes, even remove all kinds of stains, so this will just be a breeze! You can count on Anya for it."