Chapter Text
The sweet memory of Asra’s lips on mine play across my dreams; accompanied by the pleasant memory of his fingers caressing my breasts, and finding their way to my very core. Our last dance under the moon had been three days before he left. Three days before our fight.
I wake up before the dream drives me into a crescendo. What a miserable shape I’ll be in for my first day working at the clinic. Dr. Julian Devorak had been in need of an apprentice. And I was an apprentice with no master anymore.
Perhaps we are just what each other needs.
I quickly dress, and make my way out the door. I make sure the protective spell is in place, and pause. Asra will return soon. I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t just leave forever…
No. Even if he does, it doesn’t matter. Vesuvia is our home. My home. If he won’t stay to help, then forget him. I will do everything I can.
With renewed energy, I make my way to the doctor’s clinic. While I am by no means, a physician, I am one of the most powerful magicians in the land. I sometimes wonder, if it came down to me and Asra, who would be the stronger. All the same, I offered my assistance.
Maybe someday, we will find out.
As I make my way through the marketplace, I consider that I am already late, and that delicious smelling pumpkin bread is calling my name. Temptation be my weakness. Dr. Devorak will just have to
scold me for tardiness. I don’t quite care.
“If it isn’t Miss Celia,” the shopkeep teases as I sheepishly approach him. He beams at me. “What could she possibly want today?”
“Oh, don’t tease,” I whine. “It smells divine! I’ll take two—No, three.”
“Bringing an extra to apologize to Asra for not bringing him along?” He asks, and I frown as I look away. “…Celia?”
“Asra left. Yesterday.”
“He’ll be back, though, won’t he?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know.”
“I’m so sorry.” He pauses, then tucks a fourth piece of bread into the basket as he hands it to me. “Have one on the house.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Nonsense, Celia. You’re one of my most loyal customers. I take care of my people.”
“Thank you,” I say with a soft laugh. “I start work with Dr. Devorak today, so I thought I’d give him one as a way to make up for being late.”
“Good plan.” He tells me as I pay. I take my basket and leave, taking one of the pieces of bread and munching on it.
With that, I make my way to the clinic. It’s on a not so great side of the city. Or rather, it was once a nice place, but ever since the plague…
I cling to my basket as I walk. I can feel the shift in the air. From clean and pure, to diseased. Heavy. People only come here when they need to, and they have to be desperate.
The streets are dirtied with trash, and ailing people who are too sick to even move anymore. Some have blankets thrown over them, but I pause on my journey to wave away flies collecting on a thin man with sunken eyes. He isn’t long for this world, I can tell.
My heart aches and my stomach twists. Not even the smell of the bread is enough to maintain any kind of appetite; what of it that isn’t overpowered by the stench of disease that clings to everything around me. It’s so much worse, the scope of this dreadful disease, when faced with the victims firsthand.
How could Asra just… Run from this? These people, this city needs our help.
The clinic is, at least, easy to locate. Dr. Devorak has a single lantern posted above the door, where a large black bird has decided to roost. Beside the door is a large sign reading Dr. Julian Devorak’s Clinic, with the letters all in red.
I approach, and open the door. This early in the morning, it is not quite as busy as I would expect. The main entryway was quiet, empty save for a lantern and a few chairs. A waiting area, I assume.
I navigate my way to a small hallway, and what appears to be an examination room. On the table lays a lanky looking individual, his limbs draping over the table. I would’ve assume he was a patient, were it not for the plague doctor mask laying on his chest.
“Doctor Devo—Oh!” I shout as he jumps up suddenly. I take a step back, eyes wide. Then relax as he does, looking quite frazzled.
As if he had just woken.
“Sorry, the clinic isn’t ah… Wait. Waitaminute. You’re not infected.” He pauses as he gets up, then slaps his forehead. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Cessily? Cece! …Cinder?”
“Celia.” I frown as I set my basket on a nearby table. “Celia Morgatti.”
“Celia! Celia, right. I’m so sorry,” he tells me with a sheepish smile. One look at him tells me he is absolutely haggard; run ragged by the rising demands of a city of dying.
“It’s certainly understandable,” I tell him with a relaxed smile. “You’re quite busy. On my way here, I couldn’t help noticing…”
“Yes.” He frowns. “Several doctors, including myself, are doing what we can but it just isn’t enough.”
“And that, Dr. Devorak, is why I’m here. To help.”
“I should consider myself so lucky,” he remarks. I take one of the buns of pumpkin bread from my basket and hold it out to him.
“Yes. You should.”