Chapter 949

"Marca."

Willie, sitting in the middle of the bed, always looked at Marca.

Through the gurgling red fog, she could see that Maka's expression seemed to be a little stiff, and her right hand on the staff gradually turned white with the firm grip.

It seemed as if Maka was enduring something and stood there motionless.

"... Maka?"

Willie felt that she should not know what kind of emotion should surge up at the moment. Because those emotions that should belong to her have been sealed with the curse in her blood.

However, clearly the seal has not been untied, why does she... She can feel a heartfelt palpitation expanding in the bottom of her heart?

"Maka? Are you okay?"

When Willie called the name for the third time, she saw that the other party finally reacted. Although there was no response in words, the slightly solidified eyes of the other party suddenly came alive again and slowly moved to her side.

After that, about five or six seconds passed, and Maka took a sudden breath.

"Should the mood come back? How... Even if you have feelings, do you still speak in this intermittent tone? I remember the last time you told me a story, didn't you become very fluent later!"

His voice was a little hoarse, and his breathing didn't seem to be so smooth. But when he said these words, his tone was relaxed, and even mixed with some funny meaning.

However, Maka's hand holding the staff did not relax, and her joints were still a little pale.

"Don't worry, I'm fine..." he smiled and said, "sit there and wait! Although it will take a long time, you can get used to it first and get back your emotional feeling. First of all... Well, why don't you smile first!"

After that, Maka took another deep breath, then took out an empty magic medicine bottle without a cork from her waist and slowly put it on the floor in front of her.

In order to eliminate unnecessary interference, instead of using the floating spell, he bent down and put it down himself.

But I don't know if the invisible pressure just now is still oppressing him, so that he seems to be tied with a very heavy sandbag all over his body, and every movement seems particularly slow.

But even so, his expression was still so calm, even with a residual smile on his face.

It is worth mentioning that when he did these actions, the red airflow in the room did not stagnate at all, but was still surging regularly.

After hearing what Maka said, Willy on the bed immediately stroked her chest.

Is it? Yes... The mood does appear again. The throbbing just now doesn't seem to be an illusion.

Realizing this, she elongated the corners of her mouth according to Maka's suggestions and showed the smile she had practiced many times in front of Maka again.

"Before... I didn't like and practice smiling."

"Why?"

While listening to Willie's words, Marca stood up straight again with her knees, and then asked.

Willie kept the arc of her mouth and said quietly:

"Space hole, a little strange."

"Well... It's like laughing at others?"

Maka nodded and continued to respond, while slightly struggling to raise the staff.

"Maybe... Well, I don't know."

Compared with Marca's stagnant movement, Willie shook her head easily and smoothly, and it looked more and more obvious. Although they are in the same room, they seem to be in two worlds.

"Since you don't know, start thinking about it now!"

At the moment when Maka gave a suggestion, the staff he had just raised suddenly trembled... No, it was not the staff trembling, but his hand!

At that moment, there seemed to be another force in the room, which suddenly attracted the magic filled in it. Unconsciously, it seems that something has been silently captured.

It is a small particle in the surging red fog - in the constantly flowing fog, it is like an insignificant water drop in the turbulent River, so that it is still difficult to find after leaving the fog.

But Maka found it accurately.

The staff was gently dragged back, and a magic flow wrapped the tiny red dot, which was slowly dragged to the top of the bottle mouth of the medicine bottle under Maka's will, and then fell silently into the bottle.

"This is a good start," Maka said again after finishing this. "It proves to us that the long wait so far is indeed very meaningful."

Willie obviously didn't understand what Marca was talking about. She didn't even see the little red dot representing "great significance", but it didn't prevent her from showing a clearer smile to Marca.

However, if this is today's "first step", there are still thousands of steps waiting for Maka!

"Let's start!"

Makafu stretched out his staff again and said calmly on his face.

……

Two or three hours is undoubtedly a long time on Maka's side. However, for those who still sleep in San Mungo, they don't even feel the passage of time.

When little Victor woke up vaguely from his sleep, he found that the warehouse used as a temporary Ward had been a little noisy.

"Well, this is... Is it morning?"

There are no windows in the warehouse. If you live here for a long time, it is easy to make people confused about the transformation of day and night.

Victor and his son haven't been out for several days

Or they can't get out at all.

In fact, the people who live in this warehouse are all patients whose movement is limited for various reasons.

Some seriously injured people have been lying down for several days, and they even need to be fed by intern therapists or young volunteers to eat; Most of them are only slightly injured, which is basically like being put in prison

Oh, no, it seems that this is a little too much... In terms of the current treatment, it can only be said to be under "house arrest".

Like little victor and his drunken father.

"Let's not mention house arrest. At least there's a good thing to live here..." little Victor raised his hand, pinched his neck, lay on his back and murmured, "that's' drunk dad 'has no wine, and finally he's not drunk for the time being."

"Wake up? Then come and eat!"

Suddenly hearing the familiar voice, little Victor turned up on the mattress and rubbed his bleary eyes.

I don't know if it's a genetic relationship. Although the father and son can't go out like other people living here, they all show some indifference.

Maybe it's because I've confirmed the safety of my family before I came here!

"Ah, here we are."

Looking at the old man sitting on the wooden box at the door, munching his bread, little Victor finally got up from the mattress and walked around other people's floor with his shoes.

"Sit down! Have toast with strawberry jam today, and there's dried fruit cereal over there. Serve it yourself!" old Victor said, and couldn't help muttering, "it's strange to say that the wizards are very busy, and the hospital is full of people. But the breakfast can be changed every day... But the taste is really good!"

"They all say it's a 'wizard'. Don't you just change it by magic!"

Little Victor said as he walked to the wooden box with a pot of cereal, but his father immediately shook his head behind him.

"I don't know if magic can make breakfast, but magic is definitely not omnipotent... Hey, maybe magic will also abide by the law of conservation of mass!"

If Marca were here at the moment, he would applaud old Victor's words - it might be a correct guess according to the laws observed by Marca in her magic research!

Unfortunately, he is not here at the moment.

"What quality keeps horizontal and vertical... I said Dad, are you going to explain that to me?"

In these days, no matter how many times little Victor asked, the old man didn't tell him half a word about his ability to fly on a broomstick.

Although he thought it was probably related to his mother he had never met, as long as the old man didn't say it, the guess would never become a fact.

"Didn't I say I don't know?" old Victor casually waved his hand and then stuffed a mouthful of toast dipped in strawberry jam into his mouth. "How many times do you have to ask? Don't ask!"

"Alas -"

As a filial son, little Victor really can't help taking this unreliable father.

"Forget it! Let's stay here!" he complained weakly. "Then when Mr. McLean gets impatient, let him 'pick' the answer directly from your stubborn brain!"

"Well, I can't stop him if he wants to pull it out." old Victor rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately, he can only pull a handful of rotten brains out of my head!"

When little Victor heard this, he subconsciously took a look at the bowl where he had just served cereal - a white bowl, let alone really like

"Stop talking, and don't let people eat breakfast!"

As he was talking, he caught another glimpse of a seriously injured patient lying not far away. A large amount of blood was seeping from the gauze wrapped almost all over his head.

All right! This time I have no appetite... Wait, what's that?

Little Victor craned his neck and looked at the patient's robe. From his angle, he could just see that there seemed to be a small stick sticking out on the inside of the robe.

"Oh! Is that..."