Author’s note: I wrote this from 2 to 4 in the morning. This has not been proofread and I’m literally just typing things off the top of my head. Strap yourselves in, chiefs.
Description: In The Marble Nest, Artemy is dead. However, Mark, taking pity upon the other, allows him to become a Executor after making him a deal. Artemy, realizing that The Bachelor is their last hope in this timeline for finally finishing the play, follows him around. It's an uphill battle, given that Artemy can not speak in his new form as part of the deal, and his form is the one of the Plague, echoing his death.
“I told you, I’ll eat later.” Daniil waved a hand, skin brushing against the grooved beak of the Executor that had once been Artemy Burakh, renowned doctor, father, and right now? Pain in the ass.
Artemy had been insisting he stop and eat for a good few hours now, but he of all people should know that time was of the essence.
A part of Daniil still refused to believe it, believe that they were all actors, and that they were doomed to repeat the same actions over and over and over again until the play had been completed. It had taken 3 iterations for him to come around. 3 times of being woken up, racing to find the source of the plague, all while having the very distinct feeling something was wrong.
Daniil was snapped out of his thoughts as something dry and rough slapped against his cheek. He turned to glare at the cause, only to have brownish red completely obscure his vision.
Artemy kept slapping the smoked meat he’d impaled on his beak against Daniil’s face. The mask obscured his expression, but Daniil could just tell the surgeon was pleased with himself for his obstruction.
“Fine! Fine!” Daniil snagged the meat off Artemy and took a rather bitter large bite, accentuating his chewing far more than he should have. He ended up choking on the piece, scrambling for a drink of water. He could feel the air around Artemy shift to one of concern.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He coughed out, clearing his throat. “You needn’t fuss over me so. I’m not a child.”
Practically feeling the doubt resounding from Artemy, Daniil rolled his eyes, stooping over the table to look back into the microscope to examine the cells of the infected tissue sample he’d gathered.
Daniil hadn’t realized just how important Artemy was until the 2nd iteration, where he’d finally got to questioning why the giant scary bird plague monster actually walked after him instead of merely already appearing places. Questioning that got him nowhere, originally, as Artemy apparently couldn’t speak, a part of the deal he’d made in coming back, information Daniil would only find out later. It was only after Daniil had made the mistake of leaving the ink pot out that they finally managed to get somewhere.
He could still remember the shock at waking to find ‘Daniil’ messily scrawled all over the walls of his rented residence. He was glad they’d found a way to communicate, but fucking Christ, he’d wished Artemy had used the floor or something not as expensive to replace.
Still, property damage aside, Artemy had been a great help in developing a Panacea while Daniil worked on a vaccine. They’d run through a lot of parchment, and a lot more ink, til the tip of Artemy’s beak was permanently dyed a deep black, but they’d managed it. Both were hopefully optimistic about finally ending the play, for good.