Work Text:
“Good morning-”
“No.”
“I am here on behalf of Professor Gale Dekar-”
“Go away.”
“…It is quite imperative that I pass on this message to you.”
Dreuer made a sound like a tired, geriatric elephant. His hair hung tousled between his horns across his bleary eyes. He shuffled barefoot about the kitchen preparing himself a strong coffee to chase away the wine hangover that gnawed at his skull, and resented the shimmering figure that was following him around.
“I swear to the Final Scribe…”
The tiefling pressed one hand onto the kitchen counter, and pushed the thumb and forefinger of the other over the bridge of his nose.
“Shall I continue my message?”
“Give me strength… Fine.” Dreuer grunted, pulling his coffee cup in closer. He wasn’t even dressed yet, still cosied into his soft pyjama pants and shrouded in one of Gale’s nicest bathrobes that he had cunningly sequestered for himself.
“Professor Dekarios regrets to inform you that he had to depart prematurely from this meeting, conference, tutorial or expedition-”
“It was breakfast.”
“- due to unforeseen circumstances beyond his control.”
“Lord of Bones save me...” Dreuer ran his hand down his face, dragging his skin gaunt over his skull. He was so tired. His head was pounding.
“I however am fully equipped to handle a plethora of tasks in the Professor’s absence. What do you require?”
“Please leave me alone.”
“From what I could glean from Gale’s mind before he left I am quite certain he wished you to benefit from my company, most importantly-”
Dreuer made a long, low sound of annoyance.
“… to work on my damned thes-”
“ - to work on your thesis with regards to somatic components in casting wards against necrot-”
“Stop it.” Dreuer growled, his lip curling. “No more asking about work, my head hurts.”
“Is there anything I may do to assist you? I am quite capable of understanding physical tasks as well as intellectual ones.”
Dreuer drank his coffee, his tail flicking back and forth as he formulated a rather ingenious plan. Gods, even with a hangover he was good.
“…Physical tasks?”
“Indeed.”
“You’re anatomically correct?”
“All my fingers and toes are right where they should be. Correct.”
Dreuer studied the spectral figure. It stared placidly back at him. This was an interesting turn of events…
The simulacrum continued to smile vapidly as Dreuer swallowed another mouthful of coffee. He drummed his claws against the side of the cup.
“Hmmmh… go upstairs.”
“As you wish.”
“I’ve had an idea.”
***
“I’m home.”
Gale called out into an empty kitchen. He had half expected Dreuer to still be loitering here, arguing with the messenger he had left behind. It was so very typical of the man to argue with a mirror image.
“Dreuer?”
No response. Usually he shouted down, even if the tiefling was busy he would make his presence known. Nothing was odd.
With a frown, Gale ascended the stairs. Dreuer was not present at the desk, or in the chairs beside the library. Most unusual.
He ventured farther upwards still into the bedroom, but aside from the usual clutter and carnage of Dreuer’s waking hours and attempts to dress himself, there was nothing unremarkable to be seen.
There was, however, a familiar sound coming from the roof. Muffled by distance but quite recognisable as Dreuer’s grunts of exertion.
Gale vaulted the few stairs to take him up on top of the building. What he saw, he never expected to see.
The tiefling was bare to the waist, still in his pyjama pants but with a sword in each hand. On its knees on the ground, his poor mirror image held up a quarterstaff in a defensive posture with shaking arms.
“Apologies, my time is running out…”
“Good.”
Gale found something deeply disturbing about watching his beloved husband cut off the head of his own simulacrum so mercilessly. But then again…
“Feel better?” He asked, arching a brow.
Dreuer was breathing hard, his swords trembling in his fingers. The sweat glistening on his chest and on his brow was enough of an indication that this man to man combat had been going on for some time.
“I hate that glittery bastard.” The tiefling snarled, wiping his nose on the back of his arm.
“Yes well you’ve made your point.”
Dreuer grunted, turning to resheath his swords.
“So did you get any work done today?”
Dreuer blinked. The sinuous killing machine, all snarls and steel, suddenly looked very afraid. Like a child caught skipping school.
“Hm?”
“Your thesis. Did you get any work done?”
Dreuer blinked. Gale smirked.
“…. No.”
“Didn’t think so.”