Work Text:
Study, study, study. Research, research, research. Book, book, book. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
That’s what my days consist of now, all in the service of the crown and church, of course. Couldn’t have the realm falling out from beneath everyone. Storms from above, the negative sea to the east, the Magisterium further still, the dark sun below; a proper shitstorm in the making. That’s where I come in. Yes, I’m technically ‘Blessed Advisor Rys’, but that’s only because people would throw a hissy fit over ‘Court Mage Rys’. That and the fact that I’m technically still a saint. I tried my best over the beginning of my tenure, but I never… quite felt up to snuff. Saint Ann was always steadfast, helpful, wise, truly humble. I… well, as much good as I did, I wasn’t exactly the saintliest of saints.
Looking down at my book on vivomancy, my eyes straining from long work hours with little rest, my vision becomes obstructed by a pair of cloth hands. Not hands so much as arm ends, purple in color.
“Why are you reading so much when you should be teaching me banamancy!” ah, a familiar voice—Noodles the monkey, skillfully voiced by one Tal the outrider.
“But Noodles, Rys is very busy helping the kingdom!” Tal did oh so enjoy her conversations with Noodles, even if they were self-driven. That’s not really fair though, characters often take on a life of their own, or at least that’s what I’ve read of authors’ thoughts.
“Aaaw, ok… but later, right?”
“Yes! Now, shoo, I need to talk to Rys!”
And like that, purple monkey hands are replaced by a grinning face before my very eyes. Face kisses follow soon after, and I have to fend them off before long, “Ok, ok! I beg mercy!”
Tal swung around, sitting on the desk to swing one leg over the other, kicking both as she speaks, “Alright, I’ll give you mercy… If you give me a date later”
“Deal”
Tal blinks once, twice, then breaks out into a laugh, “That was easy, didn’t know you were so easy to convince”
“Only when the right person is involved”
I made her blush with that, and she turned her head with a playful pout, “Look at you, turning the tables”
“Oh, there is no turning my table with someone sitting on it. Not that I want to, mind you” I give a grin before leaning forward to peck her lips. I forget how ferocious she is when she responds by grabbing my robes to pull me in deeper. Not that I mind, of course. I straighten myself out after she has her way with me, sitting down and clearing my throat, “Yes, right, uh” I hang on that last ‘uh’. She has a way of dazing and confusing me.
She simply giggles before looking over my little workstation, one of many. As I said, books, but also vials, a mortar and pestle, small specimens, the works. I’ve been experimenting in mixing various rodents; mice, rat, gerbils, hamsters, even chinchillas, all to great successes. This is more than curiosity, but an examination as to how one might mix like species for the most optimal result. It proves far easier than mixing unlike species, though that is no surprise. Specifically, in my rodents, they live longer, are generally larger, more resourceful, more intelligent, and generally cuter than any one species on its own. They’ve proven to be an excellent pet for the nobility as they’re low maintenance. I call them… Micesters! Yes, it’s a terrible pun, but it’s appreciated by those with proper and valuable taste. And by those who recognize that I’m an Abraxasdamned genius.
I can tell from the frown on Tal’s face, however, that she’s apprehensive about all this.
“Is this… safe? Moral? They’re not suffering right?”
I look to her, then my own personal Micester—Samwelson—then back to Tal, “I’ve already ‘bred’ several larger creatures, they’re all around the capital! Are you just now having doubts or-” I pause, careful as to how I wish to proceed, “-have you’ve been concerned from the beginning?”
“No! Well, yes, I just didn’t have the time to ask. I don’t mean I doubted or do doubt you, I just didn’t want to waste what moments we could spend together bickering over your work”
“And now you have an extended leave?”
“Yeah, a full week. The queen recognized I’ve been going practically nonstop and wanted to give me a break”
I can do nothing but nod. What can I say, that they feel no pain? I can’t truly guarantee that. They show no sign of it, but they can’t exactly speak, and I know my own transformations can be… less than pleasant, “I see. I appreciate the honesty if nothing else. None of the creatures seem particularly upset or resentful, none show signs of pain or distress. They simply… are. Like any other animal really”
“And I’m not going to have to be hunting these things down anytime soon, am I?”
“Well the Micesters-”
“I really wish you’d stop calling them that”
“-no, they’re docile. Perhaps a bit bigger than their ancestors, but no harm or danger. The larger creatures? Weeell” I shrug, which I can guess does little to instill confidence, “they also seem rather docile towards humans. They’re almost entirely obedient outside their personalities, and I’ve not heard any troubles-”
“Aside from the occasional crushed bystander”
“-well, yes, but it’s only been two!”
“Three as of yesterday”
“Damn”
It’s easy to reduce the casualties—it feels odd to even say the word—to numbers, but they’re people. People with families and loved ones, presumably, with lives and hopes and dreams. I’ve written to the relatives of the first two victims, as well as the offer of covering funeral expenses. The first returned my letter with a mournful if brief thank you. The second simply replied with two words, ‘fuck you’. I can’t blame them. Now I must write a third. I thought being a wizard would be fun and marvelous, that I could help people. It seems reality caught up to me. It had to eventually.
“Rys, they’re not your fault… mostly” she doesn’t seem all that convinced of her own words, but she hops into my lap all the same, her arms draping around my shoulder, “No more than that of those who design cranes, or, well, anything else that can be inadvertently dangerous”
“You’re not really helping here” she ignores my words in place of laying tender lips along my face, something more than unusual for her. I’m not complaining.
“What I mean to say is that this all could be going a lot worse, and you’re doing really well. Just-” she pauses again to take a full look at my face and cup my cheek in her hand “-continue to be careful, yeah? I don’t want anything bad happening to anyone. Especially not you”
I’ve no clue how to respond. None. Nada. All I can do is smile, lean up, and give her another kiss. Of course, this kiss turns into a multitude of kisses, heated and passionate. I don’t dare avert my eyes as I shift the contents of my station to accommodate her. Maybe not the wisest decision given my line of work, but a wizard has to take time out for himself. I know Samwelson is polite enough to give us our space, though his eyes are still probably trained on our peculiar behavior, if for no other reason than curiosity. Humans are confusing.
It takes little effort to grasp her legs, evoking a yelp as I lift her onto the table. I stand in front of her now, her face ever so lower than mine with me soundly between her legs—which she now wraps around my waist. This is far from work appropriate behavior, but what do I care? I’m the Blessed Advisor, no one bothers me unless I want them too. However, it’s not a moment later that she continues the attack, this time with greater force than before. Her hands run wildly through my hair, one of mine wondering to the low of her back with the other making its way to the nape of her neck. It’s a war of lips and tongues and teeth. She’s fond of nipping. Again, I don’t mind. Rather the opposite in fact.
Our hands wonder on and off for the following half hour, exploring very few places they’ve yet to visit. The feeling of being missed as desperately as you miss the other is wonderful indeed, especially upon reunion, that climax of anticipation. A climax that’s yet to reach its peek if her clawing at my robes is any indication. It feels a bit odd considering they’re the holywear of a saint, but its not like the church forbids it. Besides, the feeling o such scandelousness adds to the excitement.
Naught by two minutes later that I feel the cool air of my chambers nip at my bare chest. Its not particularly exciting, or noteworthy, or defined, but its mine I suppose. A few scars adorn it here and there, though nothing like that of Tal. She doesn’t care for them, but I love them. To be precise, I hate the pain that caused them, but they make up a part of who she is. Aside from that, they’re kinda hot. Which I’m reminded of when I undo her own leather cuirass and pull her tunic up and over. I ignore the bracers, warranting a snicker on her part. A snicker I silence baring my teeth down on the crook of her neck. Not too terribly hard, mind you, just enough to torment her. She shutters, opening up further to me as I continue along her collar bone, caressing her skin with the flesh of my lips. Despite her rugged life, her skin is almost tender, soft to the touch, but her muscle firm and well built. Monster slaying will do that to a woman, thank Abraxas.
We were so enraptured in the company of one another that the sound of the door to my chambers opening didn’t properly register. Nor did the clearing of the throat behind us, not for several attempts at least before the voice simply got fed up and filled the room with a mighty ‘ahem’. Startled, Tal scrambles for her tunic to cover what she could of herself. I was too shocked to care about my own decency as I half turn towards the origin of the attention seeker. That shock of mine grew into a mighty horror upon seeing just who had invaded our privacy; none other but the queen herself. Never good when your employer sees you slacking on the job.
“Taking a break are we, advisor?”
I stand straight, turning from Tal in an attempt to hide her. Not that the queen doesn’t already know she’s here, but she can at least get her tunic back on.
“I uh, well, I suppose so?”
“You suppose? Seemed pretty obvious to me” the queen said as she gave a snicker. Not a malicious one, but rather playful, “I thought holypeople were celibate…?”
“That’s… w-well, a misconception. There aren’t any rules against it, and the Hierophant hasn’t seen fit to-”
“It’s quite alright, Blessed Advisor, I tease” she calls Tal by her name, but me? Oh no no no, I’m still Blessed Advisor Rys. To be fair, I am a member of the court, “I simply hope you’re not shirking all of your duties. I can’t fault you two for some personal time though, can I~? I’ll return later, my business is not urgent” before either of us can respond, she simply gives a giggle, leaves and closes the door behind.
There’s a long silence before we speak, “Remember to lock the door next time, yeah?”