SERPENT BEARER.

now then, let us begin the examination.

[screenshotsofdespair]

[meowtlaw]

Her ears droop at Asclepius immediate reaction, at those medical-brained statements that matter little right now. He’s missing the point, again. Even letting him in on one of her secrets doesn’t seem to change that. Dispirited, Haze contemplates excuses to escape the predicament, to postpone this inevitable confrontation even further. But all of her half-baked plans go up in smoke when he takes her hands.

(Nyas…) She lifts her gaze, and for a moment, Haze forgets—to uphold that wall keeping her emotions fenced in, affection and concern bleeding through the cracks in equal measure. She swiftly looks away, imagining herself patching up the holes with smoke. But this won’t do.

(Of course you know these things…on paper. But you hadn’t seen them. You hadn’t at all…felt them.) The crystalline pain for one, though that’s the least of it. (You should’ve felt what I felt, back then… You know? There was no hope at all. No one left to care if I lived or died. No one…nothing…)

Only that infinite loneliness and the raw, desperate will to survive, no matter the toll on her body. Hope, trusting in someone else to save her…yes, it would’ve only got her killed. Haze inches closer, resting a twitching ear on his chest, between the palms of her hands. For a few breaths, she only listens to that steady beating.

(Now, my burden…is not at all as insurmountable as it used to be. Because of you. How can you believe I wouldn’t at all trust in you?) The twitching of her ears and the wandering of her tail come to a rest, if only for a moment. (Nyas, as far as I’m concerned, I’m more than content with any day gained, if I can spend it with you. But…I worry. About Minnie…and about you.)

[hadescure]

( No. I hadn't, and perhaps, may never be able to. But, that is why I — ) The words are bitten back in a grimace. It's why he strives to rid of pain, of disease — of death itself. To cease this despair from affecting anyone else as it once had to him; his greatest and most fervent wish.

Yet, what could Asclepius possibly say to convey his weak-hearted flaws in the face of such devotion? His invisible wound still bleeds, and so, only the husk of a sigh sounds from within his mask.

One hand releases it's grasp from around Haze's wrist and lifts at an angle to allow the dark sleeve of his coat slip back enough and reveal pale lithe fingers — the very same that now reaches for her, combs through silver curls to trace soothing lines along the nape of Haze's neck while she lays on his chest.

( You're worried about me? ) Asclepius repeats with the slightest hitch of hesitation. She did not find him foolish? Was that not the root of their disagreement? Another sigh comes from the doctor; this time, unbidden by his mask — which has finally done itself away — and resembles closer to a light scoff.

"Don't be. Did you forget what I am?" Holding worries over heroic spirits, and those of the medical variety, reads unfounded. But he's hardly the only cause for Haze's concern. ( As for Minnie … we'll take care of her, no? )

There is a long beat of silence that follows his matter-of-fact statements. In his head, they should be enough to put doubts to a timely rest. His touch stills upon her hairline, almost in thought.

( As you must know by now, giving consolation is one of my weaker points, ) Asclepius tries. ( At the very least, let me hear the stem of your worries. With more information, the better I decide how to act and alleviate them. )

[screenshotsofdespair]

[meowtlaw]

The sleeve falls from her grasp, and she exhales—the barely audible sound of resignation. Is there truly no other way to know for certain?

Haze drags the brim of her hat deeper and closes her eyes. At first, there’s only darkness, until it converges into vague shapes that spread across her inner vision like the myriads of roots of an ancient tree. She imagines grasping one of them, placing the length of wood into Asclepius’ hands.

The surroundings warp into the dreary shape of a cell. The creature lingered in some corner, Haze paying it barely any mind. In the cell opposite hers, a fellow prisoner writhed on the floor like a dying Originium slug.

It had been hours, but no guards would come. At first there’d been a lot of shouting and screaming, but all pleas from even other prisoners had gone unanswered. The dying Infected had tried it all, even Originium Arts, to break out or at least set himself free in the other way. The rocky wall in his cell had a spiderweb of fractures to show for it, no more. But he’d sped up his misery, activated the crystals in his own body. Too much.

Haze had crawled under the metal bed, and she’d watched, and she’d waited. She’d seen it all. She’d heard it all. The screams, the sobbing, the whimpering. The sound of bones splintering, of crystals tearing through skin. Eventually, the crying stopped, but the cracks, the cracks continued. The crystals were still glowing with the ghost of Arts, the one spark needed to—

Blinding white light. A sound so loud and vile, her ears capitulated. The creature remained, a shape of perfect darkness to focus on as the world slowly returned. Haze had been lucky. There wasn’t much debris in her cell. Not many shards had found their way into her flesh. But there was the dust, of course, hanging in the air, a mouthful of embers in her lungs. And there was a bigger piece of crystal, just outside the bars of her cell. Maybe she could reach...—it had been part of a person not too long ago. The taste of iron filled her mouth. If she stayed, Haze might become the next fireworks show. With all this dust, sooner than later. Yes. Not a choice at all.

Haze opens her eyes, but the hat remains in place, shadowing her face.

(Did you…see…?)

[hadescure]

One minute is, indeed, all the time Haze needs.

The memory instantly fills his mind, pouring every breath and agony in vivid detail; so much so he can nearly taste the iron, the embers, and ash in his own mouth. Asclepius opens it behind the mask, clearing away the imaginary dust threatening to choke in a cough while the images fade away.

"I did," he breathes aloud then, eyes narrowing a look of concern at the Feline. And, something else lurking: suspicion. ( But why? Doctors are no strangers to death, Haze . . . )

A beat.

( Huh, did you think I wouldn't know? Any good doctor would. I've . . . heard about the inevitable end that awaits all of the Infected. ) That also awaits Haze. Minnie, too. Seeing it now only emphasizes the desperation to find a cure. Because if either erupted into a glittering of crystals and ash . . . Asclepius would not know what to do first.

Curse and poison every god and foolish idiot while marching to the bowls of the underworld, or grovel and plead for ways to resurrect? Both? He has to swallow the sting of emotion suddenly clotting his throat.

Instead, the doctor lurches forward in a step, fingers circling around Haze's wrists through his sleeves, bringing her hands flush against his beating chest. ( Don't you see? ) "I am trying to prevent that, all within my power — your burden is mine, too."

[mafiacherry]

big heart but very low tolerance for bullshit

[meowtlaw]

Ah, there it is, the drastic mood swing Haze had hoped to circumvent but crashed into at full speed, regardless. Of course, Asclepius has his pride, and of course, his intentions are good. But is that fierce frustration momentarily radiating off him appropriate? An idea comes to her. One of the more terrible ones, from the bottom of the Hat. It is one best plunged right back into the darkness it emerged from.

And yet. Is there any use in sparing his feelings when the result is this unsatisfactory either way? Haze frowns, softly shaking her head.

(I don’t doubt your words, but you have to—) Be smarter about this. She chews a little on the inside of her cheeks as if better phrasing lay buried in her flesh there, not Originium particles. (—use my system. Minnie can not at all receive her medication so openly, lest it put her in danger. Order at the branch office. They know to deliver the parcels to that grandma’s restaurant, where Minnie can receive them safely along with a warm meal... You could join us.)

Haze sighs into the silence hanging in the air, only disturbed by the younger Feline’s shuffling in the other room. She reaches for one of Asclepius’ sleeves and gingerly pulls on it. When she looks up to seek his gaze, her expression holds no small amount of misery.

(But…our connection is mutual, you know? Why…are you frustrated? Do you think I’m wrong? I trust your words, but you… Do you truly wish to share my burden? I wonder. Should I…show you? What Oripathy truly means. The things you’ll never see at Rhodes Island.)

[hadescure]

He remains quiet in the face of Haze's reasoning, save for a hissed intake of breath as Asclepius stubbornly turns his head away. She wishes him to order medicine, deliver it to a crone's hands, then administer it to the child as if it were a secret? Tch. That roundabout method to acquire medications as a doctor seems inane—the word feeling acidic in his mouth, meant to be spit between them to make a point.

Asclepius does not. What good would it do besides shattering the ice that frosted over his anger?

( No. You think I am wrong, you still don't trust in me, and that— ) Frustrates him. Even if the words were telepathically, his voice knots with old memories and silences what he cannot finish. Asclepius angles her a sulking look instead, what little can be read from the expression of his eyes. ( . . . My intentions are true. Does that mean nothing? )

A drop of hurt then pitches into his expression, or perhaps it is merely tension, that runs a deeper crack into the facade. Beneath the surface of frustration, he realizes, is a reopened wound that requires immediate suturing; troublesome. In response, Asclepius pulls against his sleeves, forgetting one was still in Haze's grasp.

( You have one minute to show me before I decidedly take my leave. )

[screenshotsofdespair]

[meowtlaw]

“Meow?” Her confusion swiftly dissipates into understanding—something she should have realised much sooner. Of course, they share that connection. Of course, Asclepius would feel it if Haze tiptoes too close to the abyss. She can hardly fault him then for that frown. She shuffles in place, her gaze catching on a piece of rotten wood on the floor, and she kicks it aside with little vigour. Her lips open as if to speak, but Haze changes her mind, gently shaking her head. If Asclepius were anyone else, she might’ve disappeared into the fog already.

Maybe she still should. Instead, Haze resigns herself to a mere sigh.

(There is no cure for Oripathy,) she states in as neutral a tone as she can. He won’t like it either way. Asclepius tries so hard but—some facts simply stay the same, no matter how much you struggle to overthrow them.

(Minnie knows it, too, though the kit hasn’t seen the worst of it yet. Even with your aid, the things that can be done to help are far from unlimited.) And the same is true for Haze. Of course. But bringing that up now would surely be unwise. (The Hat had a lot to say on the matter, but I shut the wretch up, so it’s fine. It’s all fine meow.)

Well, it isn’t, but with any luck, Asclepius won’t put the pieces of this puzzle together, as obvious as the final image may be. She lifts a hand to her chin, as if to contemplate something of great importance.

“Hm, I wonder what sort of meal that grandma cooked up today…” Obviously, this is a much more pressing issue.

[hadescure]

It's not all fine now—perhaps, in that fleeting moment of tenderness, it was. But it hadn't been fine from the moment they walked past the house's rotting doorways, and the doctor was suffused into a secret life.

"You—" Asclepius starts, a low snarl contained into a single word, held with all the intent to contest Haze. Once upon a time, he would have done so without restraint. But Asclepius does not finish, thinks better of it, and decidedly swallows that knife-sharp pride until it becomes a distant fizzing.

It did not mean that was that, however.

Though he says nothing at all, his breaths shorten, and his hands ball into fists, telltales of a tempered frustration simmering beneath the surface. And why not? Even after all this time and the exchange of secrets, confidence, and ardor, Haze still undermines his abilities.

Why couldn't she put her faith in him? Why did she think like everyone else? So many whys. Asclepius silently pulls on the edges of his hood until he calms before the questions all unspool from him.

"Fine," he manages to say, voice strangely fluted by the mask that has made its timely return. It starves his face from all expression, only sharpening the cold look in his eyes when they reach Haze again. "Take the girl with you, if you want—"

( And, think what you like, but my stance won't change. I will return and get the proper medication for Minnie on Rhodes Island. You brought me here as a doctor, and I will see it done. )

[meowtlaw]

As Minnie’s examination resumes, so do Haze’s sewing efforts, though an unnecessarily bandaged finger somewhat complicates the process. Still, the repetitive task of sinking a needle into fabric has a calming effect on the foggy thoughts clouding her head. Gaining Asclepius’ support in taking care of Minnie should bring some peace of mind, yet she can’t help but wonder about the how—and the how long.

Twitching ears drooping, the hat slips downwards, veiling her face in darker shadows. Once it’s time for Haze’s big boom—would Asclepius find a new Master and keep taking care of Minnie, until it’s the kitten’s turn to go? And what of the Hat?

No…it’s all too much to ask of him. Any aid at all is already more than Haze could’ve hoped for.

She listens to the sparse conversation accompanying Minnie’s examination with one ear. The kitten seems fine, even curious despite some more unpleasant tests. Haze hurries to mend what garments she can in the meantime. Minnie will have to learn to sew soon, too. To take care of her clothing—and to continue the Hat.

Once the kit is free to scamper off again, Haze hands her some crudely made pieces to try on. As Minnie disappears into the other room, Haze strolls over to Asclepius and his horrid medical tools.

“Are you all done meow?—See? The kit didn’t cry at all. She’ll be fine with but a little meore mewdication, right?” she asks aloud, taking no chances this time. Who knows if said kitten isn’t listening in on them again? Silently, Haze adds, (How bad is it? I’ll inform the branch office to adjust my order according to Minnie’s new dosage.)

[hadescure]

The instructions for Minnie are clipped, left to simple "Don't move" and "This will hurt," while Asclepius flat-lines his thoughts into a medical tedium. The easy familiarity grounds him. So do his hands move through a series of motions, made long past second nature, helped with a compliant patient, as data is tallied and then referenced within his mind for a conclusion. 

But the moment is brief, shattered by a heavy-handed sensation that seizes his core, forcing a breath out of his chest. An invasive sadness—despair, perhaps?—takes its place, and Asclepius battles the urge to turn and confront its only possible source: Haze.

Why, why, why?

The doctor braces his shoulders instead, sends off the kitten with an affectionate head pat and a secret shaped as a globe of candy.

( Stop. I'll adjust it—didn't I say I'd help you? ) Asclepius frowns as he turns to Haze, pinning her with a suspicious look. Besides, it will also give him the chance to ask a few pharmaceutical questions, memorize materials, reconstruct them—  "Tch,"   he quickly tacks on for good measure.

( ... Her condition is concerning. But, it's hardly a challenge. With the correct dosage and regular monitoring, Minnie will indeed be fine. Is that the stem of your worries? )

[screenshotsofdespair]

[meowtlaw]

Rhodes Island doesn’t quite deserve that amount of slander. They, too, have their hands tied to a degree, and they dabble in many causes besides merely treating the infected. But Haze doesn’t feel like defending them. Shackles remain shackles, after all.

Her ears twitch with the usual anxious frequency, but the change in tone brings them to a standstill. She looks up at Asclepius with rounded eyes, and feels her cheeks colouring with a delayed flush — not all at once, but as if like fireworks, the spectacle not unleashed all at once, but as a tiny explosion of warmth with every word he says, with every touch that follows.

“Then…” Haze whispers against his lips, “show me how to endure it…together…” Three words remain unsaid, delegated to a silent mode of communication while kisses replace spoken words, and Haze’s hands reach for the edges of Asclepius’ hood to draw him closer still.

Time, as ever, becomes a meaningless construct, surroundings and other purposes forgotten. Only when her ears pick up a quiet rustling sound, Haze retreats, unwillingly, adjusting her position just enough to peer over Asclepius’ shoulder. Oh.

“Minnie,” Haze says, half to address the girl, half to disclose the source of the disruption. How much did she see, or hear? Haze gingerly pulls the hood even deeper into the doctor’s face, as if it weren’t much too late for that. “What’s the meowter, kit?”

“Um.” Minnie remains half-hidden by the doorframe, and Haze dearly hopes she didn’t go further than this before she had noticed the kitten. “It was quiet for a long time, so I thought you were done talking…”

“…yes. The doctor will be with mew in a meowment, don’t worry~.” Hopefully, he’ll be.

[hadescure]

The doctor finds easy solace in the deepening kiss for what feels like a long, honey-rich moment. He leans forward as Haze pulls, a hand beginning to skim along her spine, temporarily forgetting the concerns over Rhodes Island. But then she parts, taking the hazy passion with her, and a frown inadvertently crosses his face before shock filters in.

Ah, the child. 

Haze confirms it, instantly giving rise to a flush in Asclepius's cheeks. It flares across his skin hot and fast, and he briefly considers disappearing to avoid embarrassment. He might already have had it not been for Haze's thoughtful ( and thankful ) decision to use his hood for cover.

The doctor will be with you—yeah, sure. How extremely foolish of him.

Asclepius makes an uncommitted sound as a response, not trusting himself to speak lest his voice warble and break. However, unable to look at Haze or anything else, he merely takes the cloth around his head, pulls it tighter as he stands, and trudges back toward the medical bag waiting by the desk.

"Minnie,"  he finally says after a brief moment of reassembling. A wave of his sleeve gestures the girl over.   "I'm going to finish your check-up. Come sit."

To Haze, Asclepius reverts to telepathy and adds,  ( We'll continue talking later. )

[semiramistress]

@hadescure continued from here

How daring, indeed. Of course, Semiramis has no reason to poison the dear doctor's tea, though if she'd wanted to, Asclepius' watchful eyes still wouldn't have been able to pick up on her subtle artistry. As it so happens, she had slipped something into his cup — a hint of an antidote to the poison he had subjected himself to, likely without proper protection.

‘ That, ’ Semiramis waves a hand dismissively, ‘ is not what I said. Hm, how does the saying go again? Haste makes waste? ’ As if to emphasise the idiom's meaning, she raises her cup to indulge in the taste of the delicious brew held within, dragging out the moment longer than necessary. When she sets it down again, her expression is surprisingly sombre.

‘ Let's not waste our time with pretences, shall we? My interest lies squarely with possible uses for my own purposes.’ Surely, he must've figured as much before seeking her out already. ‘ However, this substance is too volatile. What subtle uses it could provide, other toxins in my collection could do much better. Originium seems more suitable for larger-scale applications, but these particular effects aren't quite my style. And they surely are not in your interest either. ’

With a wave of her hand, Semiramis produces another box filled with toxic contents and sets it (as far away from anything containing tea as possible) on the table. Another wave and another box appear. Though it shares the same ornamental pattern, its colours seem reversed. She places it next to its sibling.

‘ You're far too reckless with these substances, Asclepius. If my poison dissolves this crystal, one will turn into toxic vapour nearly impossible to detect, the other into easily ignitable dust. I can't stop you from blowing yourself up for science, but at least take a pinch of this— ’ She taps on the second box. ‘ —every few hours or so. I won't be around to pour an antidote into your tea at all times, after all. Unless, of course, you do wish to collaborate more closely, in which case I'll settle for potent anaesthetics as payment. ’

[hadescure]

With uncanny timing, his shoulders feel considerably lighter, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from them. An antidote, she claims and its acting properties proves it is not a lie. Asclepius frowns at the ornate cup while Semiramis continues to speak, annoyed that he did not detect the poison in his body, the substance lacing his drink nor seeing the empress pour it in.

That therein is a valuable lesson for approaching the queen of poisons, and the doctor should be more wary and count his lucky stars. But this is an act of business and exchange, and Asclepius has no time for minding his steps.

"... In case you have conveniently forgotten, Semiramis, time is against me." His mouth flattens into a grim line, letting the weight of his words sink in for a moment. "While we're here enjoying a tea party, my idiot patients a world over could drop dead without notice and become the next reservoir for infection—"

His hands ball into tight fists at the reality of such an end.

"—Reckless is all I can afford right now," Asclepius concludes, adamant. Of course, he does not plan on meeting his demise through said recklessness—that would be stupid. So he finally pockets the two cases after memorizing their contents and appearances and nods in silent appreciation. "Your concern is noted, yet unnecessary. I am a doctor, after all."

"That being said, I don't usually approve of amateurs involving themselves in medical affairs, but …"

But he's desperate. Progress, even minuscule, has evaded him for so long that it's beginning to thread through his patience. Besides, what would a few anesthetics cost him? Little to nothing.

With a palm extended and a brief expenditure of mana, three fine tubes of the drug manifest in a flash of light. Asclepius offers them to Semiramis with the flair of a pawn dealer handling cash, the samples set onto the table. "You have yourself a deal. Here. Consider it an installment for the information you will be providing me right now."

[screenshotsofdespair]

[hadescure]

Well, that simply won’t do. Not only has the good doctor spent way too much time on research lately, he hasn’t even noticed Haze sneaking into the room, casually glancing over his shoulders at the stacks of books piling on the table. From the looks of it, he really needs a change of pace, and she’s brought just the thing to provide it.

“Nyasclepius~” Leaning all the way over his shoulders from behind, Haze sets a box, decorated with chaotically placed stamped on paw prints, on one of the book stacks. “Did mew furrget what day it is today? Time to take a break and have a treat~”

She removes the box’s lid and reveals—well. Inside, there’s an odd assortment of small chocolates, some in the shape of cats, others in the shape of snakes. While ordinary chocolate provides the base of the treats, colourful mixtures using white chocolate serve as decorative elements. There are some green, mint-flavoured stripes here, some pink, strawberry-flavoured dots there, some added facial features and other questionable design choices haphazardly added wherever the “artists” pleased. Although the used moulds ensure solid shapes as a base, these chocolates look as far from professional as they come. They quite resemble the style of a child’s drawing instead.

“The kittens helped to make these. Hopefully, you’ll like them~” Though a cursory glance over the treats reveals multiple thefts that have already taken place. “Hm? I’m pawsitively sure there used to be a lot more catnip-flavoured chocolates in here… Well, the kits deserved some rewards for their hard work, too. Anymeow, enjoy~”

Upon hearing his name—though said quite liberally—Asclepius lifts his head away from the book in a slow motion, as if needing to physically pull himself to the surface from a sea of scientific text. Naturally, his expression creases at being told to take a break he does not need, especially when it is done so affectionately. But the presence of a pout lasts mere seconds as Haze places the box in his line of sight, its contents soon revealed.

"... What?" He breathes out, trying to mask the surprise in his voice. And, perhaps, it could be convincing enough at that. However, his body language tells no lies while his shoulders tense beneath Haze's embrace.

In their many shapes and adolescent colors, the chocolates strike an immediate chord that leaves Asclepius stunned. They were made for him by the hands of a set of feline misfits that somehow had come into the orbit of his life and made a space there. Patients—he has to remind himself. Yet, it's a profoundly strange feeling finding proof ( physical or otherwise ) of how easily they have made themselves into a part of his existence, and he a part of theirs.

Like with this box of sweets.

A sleeve absently drifts towards his mouth, and Asclepius startles to find himself gaping. Crap. It's quickly schooled into an air of disinterest as he reaches for the box, almost hesitantly drawing it closer to himself. Here, the doctor chooses a snake-shaped piece from the available selection to eat, its dark decorations depicting something akin to a many-toothed hissing serpent.

"Tch ... " It's sweet and delicious; because of it, he cannot help but fall back into a doctor's habit. Asclepius does his best to turn to Haze from his position, offering a sharply disappointed look. "These are not medicine chocolates to eat so many. Though, I suppose it can be an exception today."

Some part of himself curses for chasing down rabbit holes of medical hypotheses and not noticing the date or time. Asclepius will have to make amends to gift Haze more medicine sweets for the holiday—the children, too. Patients. Or, maybe—

He picks a cat-shaped choco this time and holds it up for her. "That goes for you, as well. What, of course, I am sharing these with you."

[meowtlaw]

"—So it's your birthday,"  he says as if it were something chanced upon than remembered. "Perfect. Though I'd prefer to perform testing with trial medicine, I have something different for you today."

Asclepius produces a thin rectangular box emblazoned with gold from the depths of his coat pockets and offers it to Haze—a gift. Though he quickly sets a hand over its cover in warning.

"Don't open it yet. I don't want to deal with idiot patients questioning its contents here. Is that clear?" 

With that said, Asclepius shucks his hood upward, already turning to go. "Bye then."

The box holds an ornate necklace; its centerpiece familiarly shaped as a snake curled around a staff—the symbol of the god of medicine. A handwritten note comes attached that reads:  It's an elite gift. Wear it, and it will ensure protection even outside my domain because it is self-contained. Be that as it may, do what you like with it. Happy birthday, Haze. (You can still come to me for that trial medicine, by the way.)

Well, of course Asclepius would know Haze’s birthday — it’s featured in her medical file, after all. Still, for him to remember it and even preparing a gift… She blinks to shake off the amazement, schooling her features into the teasing smile most befitting this encounter.

“Purrfectly clear. I’ll give you meow regards later then~” Aaand he’s already gone. Such secrecy is kinds of suspicious, but rushing to her dorm would make it even more so for onlookers. Thus, Haze casually strolls off instead, taking her time finding a private spot to open the box, despite the curiosity burning hot enough to kill any cat. Good thing she waited, because Haze can’t help a small gasp of surprise when removing the lid, her astonishment only growing while reading the attached note.

Not one known for wearing jewellery, it takes Haze a moment to put the puzzle pieces together and grasp the true significance of this “elite gift”. That snake is Asclepius’ own symbol, isn’t it? It even feels like him, somehow. There’s real magic attached to this necklace — no, something even beyond that.

With trembling fingers, Haze finally plucks it from the box and carefully drapes the necklace around her neck, allowing it to slip beneath her coat and dress. It’s fine if Asclepius doesn’t want anyone to see this and ask questions — she wouldn’t want to explain it either. But she’ll keep it close to her heart all the same.

(Asclepius, I—) Despite the privacy the silent mode of communication grants, Haze pauses, scrambling for words. But a proper kitten should be more eloquent than that. (Where are you right now? I’m ready to give my regards now. And I hope you’re done preparing that trial medicine. I might need a lot of it today~)

[meowtlaw]

Her lips twitch as if trying to decide whether to curl upwards or down instead. It doesn’t matter, so he says, yet everything about Asclepius radiates the opposite, his posture oddly reminiscent of a kitten after its first encounter with a puddle of cold rainwater. But his reaction is neither rejection nor relief. What does one make of something like that? The hat would offer an abundance of theories, but Haze pushes them aside, for now.

“Hmmm~” she says instead and lowers her gaze, allowing her face to fade into the shadow of that obstinate piece of headwear. She retrieves the paper and pen and begins scribbling — no letters, but rows upon rows of numbers, easy enough to glimpse for anyone sitting only the shortest distance away.

“As far as shackles go, Rhodes Island is quite nice, isn’t it?” she muses and juts down another line of digits. “Even a criminal on the run like me can became a valued operator and gain the chance to be approved by more and more people. And our branch office here in Caladon delivers Minnie’s medication every month, without fail or questions asked. Some might say, it all sounds too good to be true — ah, it’s that cynical old hat, of course. You shouldn’t pay it any mind~”

But the pen fills its quarry with more than mere numbers now. A short remark here, the names of Rhodes’ standard medications there. A distressed drawing of a cat to go along with living and other expenses now concisely annotated on the list.

“Though, even the most comfortable shackles remain restraints. And…” Haze concludes and picks the paper off the floor to offer it for Asclepius’ inspection. There are no riddles here — it is as straightforward as she can manage. Her wages, her expenses, all neatly named and numbered. “A kitten should be free.”

[hadescure]

Asclepius reads through the offered list, first with indifference, then with growing alarm, as the written expenses climb to unthinkable numbers. A deep quiet follows as he sits and processes the fresh knowledge—or tries to— gaze blearily looking past the paper and the horrible truth written there.

Naturally, anger answers first and froths behind his eyes. But, with it also comes a thought: how many other Infected struggle beneath these obscene payments for the sake of their survival? The sheet crumples loudly within a fist.

"Absolutely ridiculous! Good health should always be available and free to all who ask for it——" Asclepius starts, words taut behind a thinly contained temper. "This is why I can't stand organizations. Always half-assing their goals while sitting on the broken backs of those beneath them. If you're going to dedicate yourself to medicine, then do it right. What good does all these charges do for any——"

He then chokes in sudden grim realization, frustrations evaporating like steam. It's a distinct memory that the world outside Rhodes Island did not fare any better. The infected are punished merely for existing—Haze had said it herself. So what does that leave now that RI was not a greater option?

" ... Why didn't you tell me?" Asclepius says much softer now while looking for Haze's attention. "I thought I told you that you're under my care as your ..." He catches himself this time, righting it before something else could be voiced. It does not, however, stop the doctor's ears and face from flushing pink as the mask withdraws. "As your lover."

A hand braces Haze's jaw, and he plants a kiss upon her cheek. "You ... shouldn't have to endure it alone, you know ..." Another trailed to the edge of her lips. "Neither of you should ..."

[lastencoregraphics]

Wash your hands. Gargle. Tenshin Kashou Zanmai.

How to stay healthy 101 by Asclepius