Chapter Text
The specifics of a Rose’s powers are often still debated to this day. Although normally utilized as “healing” magic, the Rose’s true power lies in temporal manipulation. For the common Rose, the zone of influence is normally limited to one object or subject. Aside from their well-known “healing” powers, a Rose can unbreak a vase, grow a flower from a seed in under a minute, reattach leaves to a tree. Sometimes the powers of a Rose can imitate those of a Begonia, with their ability to stop and start objects in motion, although they can only move them forwards or backwards along their intended trajectory.
Particularly powerful Roses have been able to reverse natural disasters, such as tornados and hurricanes destroying cities and towns, or to crumble mountains to dust through accelerated erosion. Documented Roses of that caliber throughout history can be counted on one hand. Particularly optimistic scholars have hypothesized that the potential power of a Rose is equivalent to that of an Iris, as if they were two sides of the same coin, with the reign both have over the spacetime continuum. An Iris arguably has power over matter and space, while a Rose’s domain is time. However, testing the limitations of a Rose’s power is markedly more dangerous.
Specifically, rewinding time on complex living organisms (people, mammals, etc.) is expressly taboo. Results from limited trials, while informative, were overall disastrous on subjects’ physical and mental health, and in the worst cases, were fatal. Furthermore, widening a Rose’s zone of influence to test the range of their powers is fraught with danger, as living organisms will inadvertently be caught in the radius.
Thus, the “healing” magic most commonly associated with Roses is actually acceleration of the body’s natural ability to repair itself, not “undoing” wounds, so to speak. And while the extent of the power of Roses is unknown, most are hesitant to push those limits beyond the safest and most utilitarian use cases.
One such Rose who was perfectly content living an extraordinarily ordinary life was Dr. Rody Cinnabar, the primary local physician for the small Demiflora refuge town of Willow Wood. Ever since settling into this town a little over ten years ago, Dr. Cinnabar put his abilities to work by giving back to the community however he could. He ran a small clinic at the base of the hill with a couple of other Roses and assorted good samaritans, healing those in need, as well as utilizing his medical knowledge for problems that were not as simple as fast-forwarding healing.
On one such perfectly ordinary day, Dr. Cinnabar was sitting in his office, dealing with paperwork, when his assistant Noelle appeared in his open doorway. Noelle, usually an unflappable young lady with an iron will, was pale as a sheet and clenching all the blood flow out of her even paler fists.
“Dr. Cinnabar,” she said hoarsely.
The doctor looked at her over his spectacles. “What is it, Noelle?”
“We, er… We have a walk-in requesting a consultation.”
Dr. Cinnabar raised his eyebrows, uncertain how this warranted such an alarmed reaction. “Did you inform them that on weekdays I see patients by appointment only? If they need immediate assistance, they should be seen by Dr. Thorne, or Nurse Wood, or if they want to speak with me specifically, schedule them in or have them return during my walk-in hours on Saturday—”
“Doctor,” Noelle interrupted him, “I think you’ll want to make an exception.”
Dr. Cinnabar rubbed his forehead and ran his fingers through his curly burgundy hair. “What, is it a celebrity or something?”
“Or something,” Noelle said slowly. “Can you just…come with me, doctor?”
The doctor sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll admit, I’m morbidly curious as to what has you so out of sorts.”
Dr. Cinnabar followed his assistant down the hallway and peered through the window in the door to the lobby. There sat a tired-looking young man with unruly black hair, dressed in a midnight blue robe with fine, gold embroidery. His long bangs almost covered his deep, dark eyes and the deep, dark circles underneath them which seemed to broadcast that he hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep at night in years. He looked far too world-weary for his age, which was surely no older than twenty five. He rested his chin in his hand as he thumbed through a tattered old sketchbook, not really seeming to look at the contents within.
“Ah,” the green-eyed doctor said curtly. “I see.” He opened the door without hesitation.
The young man glanced in his direction, then immediately got to his feet. “Ah! Dr. Cinnabar.”
“Mr. Iris Black,” he said drily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
——
“I can’t thank you enough for making the time to see me,” Iris said as the doctor led him to a patient room.
“Hmm,” was all that Dr. Cinnabar said as he tapped away at a computer. “Take a seat, Mr. Black.”
“Oh, just call me Iris, please,” said the young man.
“Iris,” said the doctor, testing the informal mode of address out on his tongue. “I would have thought you’d be busy with the administrative restructuring of the Tower after Madam was…removed from her position.” He cleared his throat.
“Yes, well,” Iris said slowly, twirling his hair. “It’s in good hands while I take some time to address personal matters. It’s been a very busy…past six years.”
“Indubitably,” the doctor replied. “The Demiflora people owe a lot to the reform you’ve spearheaded throughout the country. You’ve saved countless lives.” He said this as an objective statement, more than praise. It was simply a fact.
“That wasn’t just me,” Iris said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no way I could do all that on my own. If I can be a symbol that inspires others to create change and take charge of their futures… I will be that for them. It takes a village. Not one man.”
Dr. Cinnabar wasn’t interested in what he suspected was feigned humility and virtue signaling. “Well, you probably aren’t here to discuss current events,” he said, steering the topic back to the matter at hand. He turned from his computer to face his patient. “Why would an important figure like you grace our small, humble town? Surely you have a large medical staff on hand at the Tower. Why seek me out specifically?”
Iris Black was quiet for a moment, staring at his hands folded in his lap. He looked up and made eye contact with the doctor. There was no light in his eyes. Such deep, dark, troubled eyes. Eyes that looked deceptively black, but were actually a very dark brown. But upon even further inspection, weren’t even brown; they were dark blue and green and gold and gray, swirling together darkly, like ink in a well, waiting to become something. Eyes one could get lost in.
Dr. Cinnabar, however, was not prone to losing his way.
The young man took a deep breath. “You’re Rody Cinnabar.”
“That is what they call me, although it’s usually prefixed with ‘Doctor.’”
“You were involved in the 2038 Rose Experiments.”
Dr. Cinnabar raised his eyebrows. He had a good poker face and wasn’t about to let it slip, even though this was the last subject he was expecting. But the past always comes back. Even in remote, tiny towns such as this one, miles and miles away from those incidents. He briefly considered claiming that that Rody Cinnabar was his father, but decided that evasion would be pointless. Lying would only delay the inevitable. Instead he responded quietly, “That was a long time ago.”
Iris nodded. “I’m sorry to bring up events that I’m sure are…painful memories. The things they did to you, and made you do… It’s crass of me, I know.”
The doctor sighed and crossed his arms. “You’re very knowledgeable. I thought that all information surrounding those scientific trials became tightly classified.”
“I have access to a lot of information, now,” Iris stated.
“And how is that information relevant to today?”
“Because you were one of the most successful subjects,” Iris said. “Perhaps the most successful. The data on what you were able to achieve indicates you were…phenomenal. Unprecedented. Able to accomplish things no other Roses could.”
“Yes,” Dr. Cinnabar said slowly. More statements that were simply facts, not praise. “Are you trying to recruit me for something, Mr. Black? Because I have no interest in using my skills in that way—”
“N-no, not exactly,” Iris said. “I don’t want to disrupt your life here. I know what it’s like to desire a quiet life.” He sighed. “It’s a single request. Something only you can do. Other promising Roses from those studies…” Iris hesitated. “They’re either dead or I haven’t been able to find them. It took me a long time to find you. You’re also by far the best on record. And I’m willing to compensate you handsomely for troubling you.”
Dr. Cinnabar rubbed his forehead. “And what, pray tell, might that request be?”
——
At the end of the day, Dr. Cinnabar packed up his things and made his way through the lobby.
“Dr. Cinnabar,” Noelle called out to him from her desk. “Were you able to help Mr. Black?”
“No,” he said shortly.
“I see.” Noelle bit her lip. “I had a feeling. He wanted me to let you know he’ll be in town for the next week, staying at the Red Oak Inn, if you wish to speak with him further.”
“Thank you, Noelle, that won’t be necessary,” he replied. “Have a pleasant evening.”
“You, too, doctor.”