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You are incredibly bored. Sure, you had a lot to do, from helping out at Asra’s shop to being the new official palace magician on the council. However, none of those things were very fun anymore. Practicing magic has become a tedious task, as you are learning the most advanced material through books (Asra said he’d teach you, but he’s been busy out having adventures with Julian). It’s not like you didn’t particularly like reading (you loved it), but it does become tedious when all you do is read things from dawn till dusk. And to put the proverbial cherry on the boredom cake, absolutely nothing has been happening. You aren’t sad that the world isn’t headed for destruction, quite the opposite in fact, but you are desperate for at least something of interest to happen. Which is how you found yourself walking down the secret passageway to the dungeon, home to the nefarious quaestor.
You were beginning to regret offering to check on Valdemar. You didn’t harbor any strong feelings towards the questor themselves (aside from their usual off-putting demeanor), it’s just that the dungeon is absolutely disgusting. Dirt and grime cover the spiral staircase, and if you look close enough, you can see the occasional bloody handprint, their owners presumably clawing desperately for purchase at the wall. The dungeon is not as unsanitary, but you feel that the large pit of beetles speaks for itself. Regardless, you did volunteer to make sure the quester is in fact alive (since they don’t bother to come upstairs unless directly ordered by Nadia or for their own purpose), and you feel compelled to live up to your promise. You just told yourself that it would be an in-and-out thing, and desperately hoped that would be the case.
As you waited for the elevator to rise, you attempted to remember what the questor mentioned about their most recent project, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the level of gruesomeness that may greet you when you enter the dungeon. You swear you remember them saying something about femurs and rate of consumption, but you weren’t sure. Usually, when a fellow courtier questions Valdemar on their projects, they weren’t looking for details, and the questor didn’t bother to give any.
You were pulled out of your musings by the elevator doors opening (quite loudly), and you hastily got in and waited momentarily to begin the long descent down. After some time, the doors opened once again, and you were greeted with the equipment room. Now knowing that the origin of the plague was magically induced, you aren’t too afraid of catching it. However, there is still a possibility of other diseases lurking down there, so you slide on a mask (not the huge bird-like one, just a normal ass mask that works perfectly fine, despite Julian’s claims otherwise) and put on a surgeon’s outfit, opting to keep your clothes disease-free.
Bracing yourself, you go to open the door to the operating theatre, taking a deep breath. The sight that greets you is surprising.
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You didn’t know you needed the image of the questor petting a cat that was on their lap, but you apparently did, because your brain short-circuited. Funnily enough, you realize that the questor seems to not even notice you, fully emersed in petting the purring feline. They are talking to the cat, about what you’d prefer to not know, when you clear your throat, opting to not startle the green bean gremlin.
The questor does not acknowledge your existence, but at least they know you're there now (you tell yourself that at least). Now knowing that the doctor lives (or at least, as alive as a somewhat-not-really-reformed-demon could be), you turn on your heal and march back to the exit, when they (very inconveniently) decide to speak up,
“Ah, magician, you have once again returned to the dungeon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sighing, you stop, slowly (and painfully) turning to face the red eyes that are practically glowing with mirth.
“The countess wanted someone to see if you were still alive, since you haven’t been seen in several days by anyone. Unfortunately, you are in fact still kicking, so I’m going to leave now, see ya.” You wave cheerfully goodbye at them with the fakest smile you could possibly muster (you still really haven’t gotten over the time they attempted murder you) purely so that the emotionally constipated green animated corpse could tell that you were mentally manifesting their (long overdue) demise, but they didn’t seem to get the memo, as they did that head tilt thing animals tend to due when they are very, very confused.
Not bothering enough to care to explain sarcasm to the quaestor, you resume your trip to the exit of the horrid and nightmare-inducing dungeon when the dammed cat decides it wants cuddles from you too. You, unfortunately, are quite the animal lover, and while you have a will of iron, the cat that has now trotted up to you and it is incredibly fluffy and has very big brown eyes (that are looking at you, begging for attention). You cannot resist and sit down to give proper cuddles to the fur baby. However, now you're stuck here, in this hellhole, with a morally grey (who are you kidding, their ledger is dripping with blood) doctor with a God complex.
Life’s a bitch.
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Turns out, it is a bit hard to explain why you were elbow-deep in a monkey carcass with Valdemar right next to you in the dungeon with an allegedly manic grin on your face (Vastomil is very dramatic, and he totally exaugurated that last bit, you swear).
So that left you here, in your amazing girlfriend's bedroom, trying to explain yourself (you weren’t doing a good job, unfortunately). Nadia did not seem to understand the mutual interest you share with Valdemar in dissecting things, and frankly, you don’t either (hey, you were a physician’s assistant during the red plague, you saw and did some questionable stuff you don’t remember now; probably. It’s totally normal!).
Nadia sighs and looks you dead in the eyes, “So, Y/N, you decided to mutilate a monkey corpse with the questor because….?” She waits for you to answer the question. You do not have said answer.
“Well,” You started diplomatically, “I was petting this really cute cat, but then Valdemar started talking about this new mutation in the liver of a monkey that causes this effect akin to-”
She stops you with a raised hand (rude). You both stare at each other a bit. You have been a couple for a while now, and you both know what this is really about. Nadia knows you have a fondness for science (she finds your rants about fungi enduring and cute), but she also knows the questor is dangerous. She is just worried for your safety. You know this, but you also know your love of science (magic is a form of science in your unpopular opinion, it’s an ongoing hot debate between you and Asra for the past year) bypasses anything and everything, including your already grey morals and sense of saftey.
It seems you are at a bypass, and you are both aware of it.
Well, this day has just been getting better and better, hasn’t it?