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Her eyes flick upwards, stolen away from her empty tankard at his entrance. As if she expected it. Anticipated it. Anticipated him. The hard set of her lips nearly curls into a smile at the sight of him, though the amusement glittered unabashedly in her eyes. “Another one,” she calls to the barkeep, lifting her tankard to bed another draught. “And you can put it on his tab.”

@mutagent ILUUUUU!

#mutagent #✹ ░ ᴀᴅᴠᴇʀsᴜs sᴏʟᴇᴍ ɴᴇ ʟᴏϙᴜɪᴛᴏʀ ║ RENFRI ║#she thinks u look like a sucker #but also do her a salad u feel

elizastarkart-blog

warmup sketch

#❂ ░ ᴇx ɴɪʜɪʟᴏ ɴɪʜɪʟ ғɪᴛ ║ JULIAN ║#q

worstdoctorsyndrome

Idk which plague doctor needs to hear this but no matter what anyone says, your knowledge of herbs is immense and your beak is huge

#❂ ░ ᴇx ɴɪʜɪʟᴏ ɴɪʜɪʟ ғɪᴛ ║ JULIAN ║#heck yeahh

magiaburnt-deactivated20211025

I. SWANSONG FOR A RAVEN.

ind, highly selective & private MARIAN HAWKE from dragon age 2. loved by bun ! ♡

#promo!#a darling in another guise!

vulpesse-arc

i. the nine tailed FOX.

ind, highly selective & private AHRI from league of legends. as loved by bun ! ♡

#promo!#a darling!!!

asra // alnaazar‌

[ asra hums in acknowledgement of the other’s words, turning them over carefully in his head. the last thing asra wants from him right now is friendship, but he keeps his face carefully devoid of any negative expression, instead resting his chin on his knees, lost in thought. he’s not sure if he agrees with the doctor, that you should befriend those who hate the same people you hate just because, but asra has to admit to himself that he doesn’t hate him, as much as he would like to. ]

[ his focus is drawn back to him when faust nudges his wrist with her nose. he looks down at her, and she sticks her tongue out at him before slithering back over to julian to settle around his arm. there are some places he could start, some ideas. after all, bringing someone back to life before the cure is even found is risky. ]

[ he scrubs a hand through his still-damp hair, mussing the curls and pushing them out of his eyes. asra leans forward, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand and staring thoughtfully at julian’s features. he looks tired. asra wonders how many people he’s lost to this plague, too. he wonders how many people have blamed him just as asra has. he wonders if julian can see through him right down to his rotten core, and he wonders why the hell julian is trying so hard to make this right, to befriend him. if anything, it makes him curious. ]

[ finally, he sighs again, lowering his feet to the floor and standing up. he leans into julian’s space. ]

Do you know if this library has any books on magic? Specifically ritual magic. Anything may help.

It’s not an answer. Doesn’t even resemble one. Just an enigmatic stare and then Asra just moves on as he likes. As he always does.

Julian knows he’s made a good effort. Hardly a valiant one, but an earnest and honest effort. He’s laid everything out on the table, attempted appeals to logos, pathos and ethos in turn, and it still amounts to nothing, not an inch, not a flinch from Asra. There’s no agreement, there’s no denial, no decency enough to at least explain whatever situation prevents or precludes him from the work he’s been conscripted to.

He begins to think it’s likely better off this way. Julian had always been of the persuasion that the fruits of one’s effort made the result only sweeter, but now he thinks of how wasted his efforts have been, and it turns him sour. He shakes his head a little as he returns to his notes, waves a hand towards the far east corner. “I seem to recall the magic section to be in that direction,” he says curtly. “Though, what it entails, I have no idea. Good luck.”

#alnaazar #❂ ░ ᴇx ɴɪʜɪʟᴏ ɴɪʜɪʟ ғɪᴛ ║ JULIAN ║#WELP!!!

pon-ee

C R I M E S

Asra // alnaazar‌

[ he’s not expecting julian to talk to him, but maybe he should have– the man is very clearly the type to fill a silence with speech, to talk through uncomfortable moments until it pains everyone in the room. asra would very much like to be left alone, but it’s so horribly evident to asra that ilya is trying that asra can’t bring himself to ignore him. especially when he’s kindly cared for faust for what appears to have been quite a number of days. she flicks her tongue at julian playfully, and asra notices now that she does feel a little sticky. ]

[ slowly, he turns halfway to study the other’s profile, his magic falling away. nothing responded to him anyways; for now, it seems like he’ll have to search the old-fashioned way. at julian’s words about the tea cakes, he turns all the way around, sighing, stepping up to lean against julian’s desk, next to where he’s sitting. ]

Of course she didn’t. She doesn’t like sour foods. Next time, give her a strawberry-flavored one. She’ll lick off the icing.

[ it’s as best a peace offering as he can give ilya right now; the inside of his heart is still in turmoil. he’s working through his feelings as best he can and working his way through the grief but it’s been hard. his thoughts are tunneled to only one thing: bringing them back. he tilts his head at ilya thoughtfully, and faust slowly winds herself around asra’s shoulders. his eyes are drawn to ilya’s hands, and then the pen between his fingers, scratching a hole in the pages. he reaches out before he can stop himself and brushes his fingers over the rip in the page, sealing it closed with magic until it’s good as new. ]

Ilya, I–

[ he doesn’t get to finish his thought; julian’s words have him looking directly at the other desk, eyes finding the cushion in question. touched, asra reaches out and sinks his fingers into the plush material, lifting it up and holding it to his nose. it smells like lavender. his eyes soften, and he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around it and pressing his face into it to hide his wavering expression. ]

Of course she did. I’ll… have to send her a thank you gift later. She always…

[ asra knows nadia harbors guilt over not noticing their sickness while assisting julian. but she’s always taken care of him, through her darkest days and through his as well. he’s grateful. after another moment, he places the cushion back into its proper spot and sinks down on top of it. pulling his knees up to his chest, he regards julian with a serious expression. nadia wants them to get along. she wants this cure, too. she wants to make sure they can get this city running again. he won’t work with him for lucio, but he can try for nadia. ]

I don’t know how we can work together on this. I’m not interested in helping you play doctor.

Just when it seems that they might have some inkling of compromise and understanding, Asra rescinds, and they are at an impasse again. He speaks kindly of Faust, of the Countess, too. When it comes to him, it’s a sentiment unfolded, left as a hanging clause, a dangling modifier, unrealized and unfinished.

He might have been encouraged at the care he took to mend the page he’d damaged, only in his offense, he took it for censure, as a mother might offer a wayward child. Julian rubs frustratedly at his mouth, half in part to stop himself from saying something in his exasperation. “I don’t think I require your assistance in playing doctor,” Julian says pertly, tapping the tip of his quill upon the page he’s only just marred. “I’ve been doing that on my own for years.”

“Look,” he says, almost plaintively in how gravely he commits the command. “At the barest of bones, you and I operate in very different ways, in diametrically opposed media. But what that affords and allows us is a spectrum of possibilities, of answers and efforts that might help us understand our mutual goal of getting the better of this blight. Instead of understanding each other as antitheses, contrary to one another ... we might look at each other as ... complementary. Integrative inverses. Where my logic fails, you might supplement with your magic. I don’t know. I don’t know any better than you how this is meant to work, but we’re all just grasping at straws here. And I’m willing to do that. If it means we’ll find a cure.”

He looks at Asra now, his brow knit in earnest. “You don’t have to like me. I don’t suppose you ever will. But the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and I’m willing to be your friend in this. As long as it takes. Whatever it takes.”

#alnaazar #❂ ░ ᴇx ɴɪʜɪʟᴏ ɴɪʜɪʟ ғɪᴛ ║ JULIAN ║#WELP

asra // alnaazar‌

[ he brushes a hand down his bare chest, smoothing away some of the leftover water, and keeps a neutral posture and tone now that he’s in the presence of the doctor. it’s easier this way; civility will get the job done, but they do not have to be friends. he is only momentarily taken aback by ilya’s friendliness, something asra wonders about, if it’s all a front and he is fooling everybody. ]

I assure you, running into you was an accident. I didn’t realize there was anyone in here. Don’t worry, I won’t be here long enough to invade your space.

[ asra wouldn’t say he’s been avoiding him, but he sure as hell hasn’t gone out of his way to begin this absurd “partnership” that lucio insisted on. there’s nothing julian can help him with; from what asra knows of him, the doctor is useless at magic and thus useless to asra. the only thing he’ll get from being around him is more reminders of the past. ]

[ as soon as his familiar’s tiny face pops out, asra’s face splits into an affectionate smile, and he beams at her. his hands reach out automatically, a reflex. she springs up, unwinding herself from ilya’s leg and wiggles eagerly across the library into his embrace. she nuzzles his cheek, tongue flicking out affectionately, and he laughs softly. ]

There you are. You snuck out early today. Getting into mischief again, hm? Did you eat yet?

[ and oh, she’s chatty today. he gives her a curious look about her choice of companion, and she tells him everything she did since she woke up, including what her new tall friend ate for breakfast. it seems she found this library days ago, and ilya’s desk is the perfect spot for sunning on without having to go outside, and also that the tall doctor is incredibly easy to tease. ]

[ while she talks, he pads over to one of the shelves near julian’s desk and starts perusing the stacks, pausing only to drape his damp shirt over the back of a chair. his magic tingles his fingers as he draws upon it, rushing like water through his bloodstream and out of his pores, searching the library. he wants to see if he can locate anything that may be able to help him, anything that responds to him. ]

It’s difficult not to be offended by the magician’s words; Julian’s only ever heard him speak more bitterly to Lucio, of all people. The most hateful creature Julian has ever met in all his wide travels in all the wide world. Perhaps he might be thankful that Asra holds him in higher esteem than him. But that’s little consolation.

Because there’s the matter of his tone. The doctor might have allowed himself to be convinced that perhaps Asra was simply not a friendly sort of fellow. Perhaps he’d even caught him in the middle of a spectacularly foul mood. But those “foul moods” never seem to last very long at all in the Countess’s presence. Or Faust’s. Or anyone else, for that matter, who is most pointedly not him.

He gives a short sigh of resignation, as he turns back to his notebook. His lap is very noticeably empty, and not so warm anymore, which gives him even more reason to pull the sour face that he does at his own scribbling. “I offered her my lemon tea cakes earlier, but she evidently cared not for them, which I only gleaned when she slithered directly through them. If you’re wondering why her underside is a little sticky—well, there’s that mystery solved.”

He notices that the tip of his pen’s scratched through the sheet of paper, and sighs once more when he sets it down in a secondary defeat. “It’s not my space—well. Not just my space,” Julian corrects him quietly. “The second desk was meant for you. As was the diwan of overstuffed silk cushions installed by the Countess herself. Everyone has taken very particular pains to make you feel a little more at ease with the project at hand. Stars know I would, too, if I had any idea how. So I suppose I’ll take this opportunity to ask. For my own edification. You may, of course, feel free to inform me that it’s a fruitless measure. If it is indeed so.”

#alnaazar #❂ ░ ᴇx ɴɪʜɪʟᴏ ɴɪʜɪʟ ғɪᴛ ║ JULIAN ║#WHEN ARE THEY GOING TO LIKE EACH OTHER #WHEN

Asra // alnaazar‌

[ he wasn’t expecting it to rain. ]

[ in hindsight, that was likely his first mistake. lately, he hasn’t been as focused on the world around him, not like he used to be. he’s slipping up, missing important details. he doesn’t mind it, per say–in fact, the water makes him more powerful– but today, he feels more out of it than normal. ]

[ stumbling back into the palace soaking wet catches him some strange glances, but he doesn’t pay them much mind as he searches for a quiet place to settle for the day. specifically, he’s looking for a library nadia described to him. unfortunately, he doesn’t have the key, and nadia failed to mention the complicated door that not even asra’s magic can apparently permeate, much to his frustration. the only person asra knows of whose magic could potentially permeate the plethora of locks and puzzles, specially designed by nadia herself, is already dead. ]

[ the only other thing he knew would work takes him back out into the rain. the library sits against the wall of the palace closest to the fountain, asra figures, and when he gets there, he runs his fingers gently along the stones, searching for any vulnerabilities he can use to get started. when he finds a give, he begins to weave his spell, letting the rain soak into him and using the additional boost from the water to aid him as he forms a portal door. after what feels like forever, he finishes, and steps through, straight into the library. ]

[ the sudden draft of dry air makes him shiver, and he shakes out his soaking wet curls, water flying everywhere. it pools at his feet, and he blinks droplets out of his eyelashes, hanging heavily into his eyes. it’s thankfully quiet, and asra sighs, relaxing, and begins to make himself at home, taking his bag off, then his shoes and socks, all soaked through. too tired from the portal spell to dry himself off, he takes his shirt off and wrings it out, then tosses the still-wet fabric over his shoulder. ]

[ now slightly more situated and only barely less covered in rainwater, he lets his eyes roam around the library. he realizes he has been here once before, with nadia, while she was designing it years ago, but hadn’t found the opportunity to return and enjoy all the books she stocked it with, many of them magical in origin, and one of the reasons he returned to help search for the plague. he takes two steps further into the library and stops, suddenly realizing he’s not alone. his gaze settles on the doctor, because of course he’s here. ]

Oh. Hello, Ilya.

The library usually remains silent, an eternal quiet occasionally punctuated by the distant chime of the bells that mark the hour. Julian wonders if it is by the Countess’s decree that no one enter, perhaps so as not to disturb the doctor’s studies. Whatever reason it is that precludes visitors of any sort is unsatisfactory at best to Julian, who wishes in his idle moments for a little reprieve, a little company.

The magician’s snake makes for a charming companion, whenever it is that she cares to slither into his lap and wind herself into a great knot upon the inconvenience of his thighs. Julian’s gotten somewhat used to her unpredictable presence, her weight almost welcome where it comes with an unusual warmth.

Today, she precedes her master like a prelude, though Julian could not conceive of the consummate theatrics with which Asra would enter the library, disturbing the perfect quietude with an emanation of displaced air where portal drew open and he emerged, whipping off his sodden shirt and shaking out his snowy hair like some romantic hero. Julian watched with the solemnity of one ensorcelled, a slow smile growing upon his lips as he catches the magician’s eye.

Oh. Hello, Ilya, Asra greets him, indifferent to the dramatic tableau he has created with equal casualness and ease. Julian cocks a brow and nods in silent greeting, allowing himself a moment before he responds.

“Good afternoon,” Julian replies, albeit a bit smugly. Beneath his hand, Faust shifts, nearly titters at the presence of her master. He strokes her scales gently. “To what do I owe this rare appearance? It’s not often enough that I can expect your company.” For how certain Lucio was that they should work together, the two had rarely found common schedules to do so.

Faust pops her head up from under the desk, her little tongue flicking excitedly at the sight of Asra. “Perhaps you came to retrieve this little scoundrel?” Julian asks with a laugh.

#alnaazar #LOOK WHO TOOK FOREVER AGAIN #it me #IM SORRY

hazieash

And that was the first time Runaan said the L-word

Asra // alnaazar‌

Hm… I think I’ll stick to magic. There’s less rules, more room for creative thought.

[ asra’s expression darkens at julian’s apprentice remark, eyes narrowing, already tense as he strains to figure out the doctor’s intentions. his fist clenches, and the gentle wave of his magic thrums up and down his body. the words feel condescending and downright hostile from where asra stands. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making another hurtful, scathing remark like he did the last time they saw each other. he doesn’t need or want ilya’s half-assed, emotionless apologies, and he doesn’t need to waste any more energy on the doctor’s existence when he can be spending it elsewhere. nothing ilya does will be enough, and asra has to learn how to live with that. they both do. ]

[ instead, he focuses his attention on the man laying on the bed, choosing instead to respond to ilya’s other remark. the look asra gives lucio is unkind and pitying, years of hate and despair behind it, and he frowns. the count, trusting anyone? it’s a likely story, but asra knows it’s more than that. he steps back up to the count’s bedside and reaches out a hand, running his fingers gently over the metal arm. at his touch, he can feel them again, can almost see their faces, and he closes his eyes briefly to let their magic wash over him. ]

Mm, I would agree with you, but you’re wrong. He’s not trusting… he’s lonely.

[ asra thinks about the bed back at the shop, left cold and untouched, and he knows he recognizes that ache because he has it too. the magic dissipates when he finally pulls his hand away, and he takes a steadying breath. the room suffocates him; the walls tower over him, laughing. he grits his teeth against the onslaught of emotion, focuses instead on the steady patter of rain outside the palace. ]

[ thankfully, now that lucio is asleep, he doesn’t have to stay here. after all, his work is done and he has research to attend to. he plans to visit the magician tonight. there’s a ritual he found on a page in the palace library, and he intends to find out if it will work. though, at this point, there’s little asra isn’t willing to risk or try to ensure his success. ]

I should go. There’s nothing else for me to do here.

[ he retrieves his bag and his jacket from where he left them and dresses properly, making sure his pants are properly tucked into his boots in preparation for the rain outside. ]

If he wakes up and asks for me, tell him… tell him nothing. Or, tell him whatever you want. Tell him I died; I don’t care.

Julian nods musingly, as if in accord with the magician’s opinion. But his answer comes incongruous. “Rules are the inspiration of creativity, I think. Stricture demands and cultivates innovation. Or else why on earth do anything else that isn’t straightforward or simple?”

It takes everything to stifle the doubt that twists his features at Asra’s very generous commendation of the count, which still escapes him in a muffled groan in spite of the iron clamp of his lips that sought to preclude it. Julian’s known Lucio a little too long to be fooled into giving him the benefit of the doubt. Especially since the erstwhile merc had wellnigh made it his occupation to be the most hateful creature Julian could only ever have conceived of in some sort of fever dream.

He thinks better of talking when it’s clear that Asra’s caught up in a moment of his own, in which Julian is acutely aware of his own involvement in his plain-to-see unhappiness. Every time it seems like they’ve struck a deeper accord, Julian’s always quick to rush an explanation that sounds rather too much like an excuse. And they always end up the worse for it.

Asra looks as miserable as ever, and before Julian can exacerbate the situation with the tact of a maladroit, Lucio stirs frowning hazily up at the pair of them. “Are you still here?” he asks, more curious than annoyed. “Might as well get to work, then. Oh, that’s right. You’ll be working together. For the whatsit .... plague. Two heads are better than one, or whatever horseshit adage that is ...”