Jerza Shorts

Drawings

Publishing before I sleep again

I was supposed to publish this on the 18th whoops, so I might publish another one on the 22nd :)

P.s.: this was actually the first drabble I wrote in this book

Rated K

"Daddy! Daddy!" two voices that sounded like never-ending chiming bells grew louder and louder as their owners came nearer and nearer to the kitchen as they compete each other in a race to see who could reach their father first.

Their dad turned around from the sink to be met with two bright faces of a six year old and a four year old looking up at him with their hands holding the papers that were inked with their imaginative drawings.

The tall, blue haired adult crouched down to meet their levels. "Yes?" he questioned in a gentle voice, the voice Jellal used only during conversations with his children and his wife.

"Who's drawing is better?" asked the older sibling, as both of them flashed their drawings to their father's face. Both had a unique style of their own, but both could also be easily recognized as children's drawings.

Their father tried to interpret what each of the drawings made by the tiny hands of his children were, but obviously failed. Children are. . . different. Though, all his mind could make up was that both of the pictures were drawn beautifully, considering they were made by children who were still in kindergarten.

"I think," he paused to lift his daughter in one arm and his son in the other as he stood up from his position. "Both are equally magnificent." He had a bright smile on his face as he looked at his children whom held opposite expressions. They were disappointed with their father's answer, since both of them were sure that their own picture was much more stunning than their sibling's.

"Want to know who is the best artist in this house, though?" Erza, the mother of the two children and the wife of Jellal, waltzed into the kitchen with a smirk, also holding a paper in her hand. "Me." She answered herself as she proudly held the paper up, presenting the illustration she had made of. . . something that her family failed to decipher.

"I. . . I think yours is. . . very. . . different, Erza. . ." Although her drawing wasn't very. . . alluring, he used the term 'different' to say it indirectly, not wanting to hurt her feelings and cause her wrath to emerge.

His children were not afraid to say what his mind was thinking, though. Their daughter had been brutally honest and said, "Your drawing looks like a drawing that was made by a baby, mama." At those words, Erza felt as if she had almost shattered into a million pieces. As if with just a slight tap, she would completely break.

And that slight tap was the agreement of their son, "Yeah." He even added a hard nod as if he marked his words like they were obvious. And she finally, completely shattered, as said earlier, by that slight tap.

Her husband only gave a nervous chuckle, not knowing what to say. He could feel the commonly known as Erza's Wrath growing as it was ready to devour their children. He had no escape, other than to step back, but he immediately hit the counter behind him.

He knew he was safe, but the kids weren't so lucky. He had to make a run for it quickly if he wanted to save the children in his arms.