Roland visited the infirmary, he opened the door and peered inside. Students could spend the night there if their wounds were too severe, and he was certain that both Vritra and Azazel would be inside already. Expecting his two friends, Roland had to take a step back as he watched two peering eyes loom from the shadows, creeping forward without sound. It almost felt like it was slithering rather than walking as it bobbed up and down like a worm on the ground.
Whatever it was reached the light outside the infirmary and revealed itself. Sickened pale skin that looked like they hadn't seen the sun in weeks. Bags under his eyes and swollen red eyes from either crying or spending too much time with them open. The Doc looked at Roland with barely life left in him.
"Visiting, or…" The Doc sighed in exasperation, "Visiting" he said it like a haunting dream. Roland could tell what he meant. It was clear that he'd spent too much time filing documents, preparing medicine and administering care. Lord knows how many bones he's had to rest, how many arms and legs he's had to cast, and how many crutches he's had to order.
"Me? I just have a bruise," Roland rolled up his sleeve, and the Doc nodded his head enthusiastically, "I came here to visit Vritra and Azazel though." Roland's words made Doc close his eyes as a single tear trickled down his face.
"Finally." He sighed, opening the door further before turning on all of the lights. There were groans and moans in annoyance. Just then, Roland realized how serious it had become, there were more people inside the infirmary than there were in class or the dormitories. It had gotten so bad that he'd been able to grab one of Wellston's famous cakes without much issue. "These Royals beat up every rioting maniac in the school, and the press is going crazy with articles, trying to push in."
There were so many people on the ground that Doc had to walk by pushing them aside, almost as if he was walking through thick mud reaching his ankles.
"I forgot to ask, who are you visiting?" Doc turned his head to stare at Roland, who looked at the very back. Roland had already told him though.
"Uh… Azazel and Vritra?" He repeated, just in case. The Doc nodded twice, took a mug from his desk – which had at least twenty of them lying around – and drank a coffee from one of the three machines there. Immediately after drinking it with a chug, he began making more, then took the other jar and put coffee inside to chug it again.
"Sorry, I think I misheard. Who did you come and visit again?" The doc took another chug of coffee.
"Vritra… and Azazel…" Was drinking that much coffee healthy? Was it even keeping him awake anymore?
"URGH!" He grabbed his chest in pain, then collapsed on the ground, "The needle!" He yelled pointing at his desk. Roland panicked and put down the bag he'd brought to the infirmary, he rushed to the desk, stepping on people's feet, faces and ankles to get to it. He grabbed the needle and passed it over. The doc injected himself, then breathed back to normal, "Caffeine overdose…" He turned away and Roland heard puking sounds. The Doc tossed the trash bin he puked into and put it under his desk – where Roland saw two others. "I am so done…" He sighed.
"I uh… after I visit I could help you with some of the papers." The doc looked at Roland with tears in his eyes. He grabbed his left hand with both of his and shook it.
"You are a good person. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. Don't let yourself be corrupted by the asshole at the back of this infirmary." He shook Roland's hand two more times before using the desk to help himself get back up. "Oh, and Azazel was dismissed, he was mostly healed by Elaine – Only Royal not in my shit list, may whatever god exists bless her soul – so he was mostly fine. Vritra on the other hand keeps biting through muzzles and fighting the restraints… so he fractures his bones more often than not."
Roland nodded and silently walked to the end. Sure enough, just as the Doc had said, Vritra was shaking and moving. His expression was contorted in anger, he looked like a walnut with all of those wrinkles. Seeing Roland, his expressions Softened, he mumbled something and Roland could not understand a word he said.
"Yeah… let's take this off for now," He took off the latch of the muzzle and Vritra took a breath. "It's been a day, how are you feeling? Evie would've come but she's being suspected for being a riot leader so she's being interrogated right now."
Vritra's eyes zoned in on Roland's face, specifically the bruise on him. "Who did that." It was not a question he was asking, his tone was calm, composed even. Roland wondered what he was talking about, he looked at Vritra's gaze and saw that his sleeve was still rolled up. A blunder on his end, he knew how he could get.
"Oh… don't mind that I just tripped," Roland haphazardly lied, and looked at the other side of the room. He'd left the gift he'd brought there.
"Roland. You are one of the most careful people I know, don't lie to me. Who did that."
"You'll just get more angry, and right now you need to calm down. You're hurting yourself by pulling the chains and raging every day." Roland had no intention of telling Vritra anything right now. It would give in to his current self destructive nature.
"I promise you I will be calm. Just tell me." Vritra's eyes were still locked in on the bruise. "If you don't I will find out on my own." It was starting to get eerie, Vritra always had some emotion in his voice when talking, either joy, anger, or anything else. But there was at least something. This was just calm.
"Hold on, I brought you something," Roland moved back to the front of the infirmary, he had to change topics as fast as possible. He rolled down his sleeve and grabbed the bag he'd brought in. He kept it above his head as he tried stepping on the least amount of people possible until he got there. It looked like a warzone there. "Here," Roland opened the plastic bag, then the tupper and showed a cake he'd baked inside. "Bet you didn't get to eat anything sweet in here."
"Roland, Who. Did that."
"What'll you do if I tell you," A shadow fell over Roland's face as he placed the cake on Vritra's lap.
"I will play good until the doctor lets me out," Vritra's face contorted, his eyes turning into slits for a second before reverting back. "And then I will fucking remind these scum that they dont get to touch what is mine."
"That's uh… a weird way to put it," Roland knew Vritra could be… odd about his friends, but he chose to ignore that part, "There's no point. If you go out of your way to help me out you'll only make things worse. Arlo's attacking anyone who does that in fear the riots will continue."
Just saying Arlo's name caused Vritra to start thrashing around "He can fucking try! The only reason he won last time was because of his lap dog attacking me before I went to fight him!" One of the chains holding him snapped. "Tell me who did that to you Roland! Or I swear to god I will find them on my own terms-"
"There's no point if you can't even recover." Roland produced a fork from the plastic bag and put it in the tupper with the cake inside. "Don't worry about me, I've lived through Wellston before you were here, I'll survive. If you really want to help get better first."
The thrashing stopped, Vritra froze, eyes locked into Roland like he'd just said something horrible. There was no anger in his face, just shock. Like something in his brain stopped working for a second. Vritra's chest began to rise and fall erratically. He gasped for air, each breath coming in quick, desperate bursts. "No-" He wheezed, eyes frantically looking Roland up and down. "D-Don't say that, just- Just tell me who did that to you. I will handle it." The breathing quickened, his forehead was already slick with sweat. "J-Just tell me, please. I have to handle it. I will protect you. I can protect you-"
"It's useless, just recover. Nothing will come from getting revenge now. I gotta get going," Roland took a few steps back, "Oh, before I leave. Do you know where I can find Azazel?"
Vritra didn't respond at first. His eyes remained locked on Roland, wide with horror—until something shifted in his expression. Then came the struggle. His glowing eyes flared brighter, his body began to twist and change, and a guttural roar tore from his throat. One by one, the chains restraining him snapped and clattered to the floor. Still, his gaze never wavered from Roland. He inhaled sharply. "Gavin." The name left his mouth like venom—thick with hatred.
"You're kidding me… what are you, a bloodhound?" Roland looked at his forearm, "Don't go after Gavin, you'll only make it worse. The riots really messed up Wellston." Roland warned, they were in a period of instability, where standing up for oneself resulted in a visit from higher tiers. Roland could tell he would spend the whole day trying to keep Vritra from going anywhere.
He was met with nothing but a low, animalistic growl as Vritra took a step toward the exit ."Then I'll end the cause of the riots," he said coldly.
"... you're the reason for the riots." Roland sighed and put a hand on his face, "the low tiers are rioting because of you… I don't think it's your fault or anything, but I think the smart decision is to heal up before you go beat a mid-tier for no reason."
A sick grin crept across Vritra's face, warped and full of malice. His glowing eyes flicked to Roland. "Oh, I've got a reason. He laid a hand on you. They'd have beaten you for less. An eye for an eye. I'll hit him. Once. That's all."
"..." Roland sighed, he could tell Vritra wasn't listening. It was like talking to a brick wall. He grabbed the cake Vritra left on the bed and shoved it on his hands. "Don't involve me in this. I don't want to be a part of it, man." He walked to the front of the infirmary to help Doc just as he had promised he would do.
Vritra stood frozen, watching Roland's retreating figure—then glanced back at the exit, conflicted. His lips moved in a quiet whisper, almost inaudible. "...No one gets to touch what is mine and walk away. Not Gavin, not Arlo."