Adventures of Barty Wayman

“You can’t wear the same, actually, unless you want to wait for us to launder it for you,” said the pale man, a sort of unsteady smile on his face. “We don’t take any risks of contamination here. Not with the plague still running wild out there. Don’t worry, we’ll find something….” He led the way, but also let Vain set the pace, slower if he wanted time to look, faster if he wanted to get to his bath. “He does. Er. They do.” he sighed. “It’s hard to get used to the changes….I knew him in his last life and the one before, he was such a force to be reckoned with…” a bit of wistfulness for days gone by. But finally they made it to the bathroom - a large room of white marble and gilded porcelain - well lit, the air full of steam and perfume. The man stopped in the doorway, and said, “Just, ah…leave your things by the door. I’ll fetch your water.” And he left Vain alone with a steaming tub full of soapy water!

     The plague. Yes- that’s right. That was still running ramped wasn’t it. “ Forgive me, my memory is slightly ajar. ” Askew even, thinks he. His pace remains about the same, taking in what was where as he walked by, but also the growing urge for his bath creeping up his spine ever so slowly. Although, his steps almost stuttered to a halt. Past lives. He blinked, a bit rapidly. Nothing should surprise him, really. Still. It was strange to hear. Best not question it- at least for right now. He had to focus on himself. Once healed, he can start asking questions to get a better understanding of this place… And to who’s hands his safety cradles in.

     Ah , yes. The bathroom. Just as expected. As grand as the rest of the house. His eyes yet again coming to a wonder. From every curve to every edge, finally, his strong gaze resting on the tub. “ Thank you.” He says just before the man takes his leave.     He lets out a sigh rich with content before inhaling the sweet strong aroma of perfume. His fingers working at the buttons of his cloths to toss to the door. Just as instructed. 

    It took time for him to climb over the side. Taking his easy time. Flesh to warm water. Oh- how nice it already felt. He sunk in almost immediately to where his nose was just above water level. Long black locks of hair floating around in curls. His eyes shut, feeling every inch of his muscles finally start to give and relax. Another sigh, one that rippled the soapy water just below his nostrils.. and once he was ready, he began working at his hair. The suds beginning to be massaged into his scalp and facial hair. Careful, camvanian. Bubonic was certainly not a fan of trimming their nails. 

   Once finished, Vain sits back against the tub wall, his elbow resting now on the side. A wet hand coming to comb through soaked locks of hair. He hears the distant voice of a beloved long since passed. It wasn’t something new. He knew she was there. He knew she was watching. Was it a curse? Or was this protection. He didn’t know. She never would answer his questions. He wasn’t sure if she could even if she wanted to. The vision of her flashes briefly in the corner, in which he stares. Once gone, his vision drifts down to the floor. Letting his mind pay attention to it’s rich details. At least she didn’t seem angry, this time. She always seemed to be with Bubonic. Her expression disgusted and worried. This time… she seemed releaved. Her echo’s leaving a song kissing his ears.

“Mmm…” Fabian gave a nod. Good to know patchwork wasn’t needed. Fabian was capable of such things, of course, but their hand was more suited to taking people apart than putting them back together. “Well, noted. We’ll get you a glass of water to enjoy during your bath…” They snapped a finger at their servants, and Vain’s two escorts began to lead him up the stairs, into the front door of the mansion. “Normally I bring my ah…guests…in a back way,” Fabian said, strolling along at Vain’s side but not rushing him. “But it would be troublesome for someone in your condition. So…” In the font door they went, into a wide, white marble entry hall draped in the black velvet of mourning, “..here we are.” It was a dusty, quiet place - old art here and there on the walls but looking a little run down, as if this place had been abandoned not long ago. Still, the floor was clean, there was a smell of food drifting from one of the corridors, and more servants came hurrying up to meet them. “Dr. Waters will require something to drink before he bathes,” Fabian told a capable looking man with a pale face and glasses. “See to it he gets all he needs.” The fellow nodded, his eyes flicking to Vain and the servants helping him, then back to Fabian. “Your bath is ready as well, my lord.” “Thank you,” Fabian said with a nod. The turned one last time to Vain, and said, “Feel free to request anything you need. We will reunite in the dining hall whenever you are ready.” And off they went, leaving Vain with the servants. The man with the glasses cast Vain an appraising look, up and down, taking him in with an analytical eye… “Well, good thing the tub is big…I’m not sure what we’re going to do about your clothes, though…” He sighed and began to lead the way to the bathroom. “I will bring you water. Is there anything else you want, at this time?”

     Vain remained silent, for the most part. Green eyes taking in the surroundings, as he always done. However, once they passed the doors and into the mansion, his eyes had changed from simply showing their exhaust, to also holding awe. The place was beautiful. From the décor to the architecture. Two things he favored, actually. Marvelous. All of it. And not to mention how mouth watering the food smelled…

     His attention landed on Fabian when his title was mentioned, the expression returning to that of a neutral state, though his neutral rest was naturally intimidating. Low eyebrows and the curve of his mouth dipping downward at the corners. His eyes drifted back and fourth from the servant to their lord as their conversation ended, offering a nod in understanding, but appearing more similar to a bow of thanks. 

Fabian chuckled a little at the last bit of Vain’s suppositions. Not an idiot, anyway. It was clear that the doctor did not know in the slightest who Fabian was, or else he might have had some questions about being taken, alone and injured, to the necromancer’s dark home…

“I am not so barbaric as to make demands of you while you are in such a weakened condition,” Fabian said, waving away the idea with one leather-gloved hand. “If you feel the need to repay my charity once you are well again, we can have further conversation on the matter. In the meantime…” they shrugged their shoulders, fur and velvet moving in the dim light. “…I am sure if I am ever in need of help in the future, you are the kind of man who honors a debt in an hour of need…”

For, truly, there were few things so valuable as favors owed by influential people. And from what Fabian knew of Dr. Water’s history, he had quite an extensive knowledge of plague… The carriage rolled along the cobblestone road, the clop of a single horse’s hooves beating out the seconds. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the mansion - one Fabian had only recently acquired, in fact, but there was no need to share that information just yet. When they stopped, Fabian’s servants opened the door and offered their hands to Vain, allowing him to exit as his own pace but with their support. Fabian would slide out behind him, watching his movements closely. “What is your diagnosis of your condition, doctor?” they asked. “Do you need to be stitched together before you are cleaned up?”

     Vain remained silent for a long moment, green hues finally flickering from his newly acquired acquaintance to the carriage window. He watched as the trees passed, one by one, noting what leaf’s and herbs he could get from the surrounding area if need be, but he didn’t ignore Fabian, no. He was just sitting on the others words, finally giving a light scoff. Careful to not use too much energy to further exhaust his body. “ Lucky for you I am a man of my word.” His reply was paired with his line of sight returning to Fabrian, offering what he could manage of a smile, but for him it was barely ever anything.

    Upon the slowing speed of the carriage, vain swayed with the sudden halt. Although he was able to stay sitting up without toppling over. Already his body was adjusting to having control once more, but he will need proper rest and relaxation to help steady him. 

     His hair swayed with the breeze upon the doors opening, taking the hands offered to him for assistance, though he was able to let go quite early. Once on his feet he still hunched with a sway in his balance, but he was able to walk on his own. For now. He was a stubborn and determined man, that Vain.

“I know who you are, Dr. Waters,” The necromancer said, the note of amusement in their voice only barely balanced with some degree of professionalism. “Your son is well known in the medical community of this city.” Fabain did not have many dealings with Finn himself, but they keep a close eye on one young Dr. Wayman, and these days it was near impossible to find one without the other somewhere close by… But they also bowed slightly - just enough to be respectful without disturbing the arrangement of leather feathers on their head. “I am Fabian,” they said, leaving off their titles for now. “And I have a home with too many rooms and a persistent lack of guests that I offer to you until you have decided your next steps.” They gestured to the figures currently supporting Vain, and the figures - cloaked, masked and strangely unbent by the tall man’s weight - carefully helped the doctor to a waiting carriage. They would see the big man settled on one of the seats, and once he was, Fabian slipped in across from him. They regarded Vain thoughtfully a moment, taking in his worn state, his clear exhaustion and emotional suffering as visible as bloody wounds. “I hope you will not be offended,” they said, “If I suggest to you a bath and some medical attention, before you are served tea…”

     His son. Yes, Finnian. The son that, despite everything, he was proud of. For what he seen while something else sat in the front seat of his body, having access to all control, he seen the man underneath all that aggression and trauma.. and, the smaller doctor he seemed so close and over protective of. The one with the curly hair. He suspected their feelings for one another was not just friendship. Vain knew the sight as well as any fool drunk on love. Perhaps, perhaps that boy was the ticket, he thinks. At the end of it all, it surprised him none that Finnian was well known. Still, it made part of him happy.

     Vain nods in response to the bow, showing his own greeting in the only way he can manage right now. Fabian- He’s never heard that name before. It has a nice ring to it, but he wont say that. Instead, he mentally notes the name and lets a chuckle slip through his nostrils. “ I too, once had too many rooms for just a simple family. ”

     Ah yes, they were moving now. Vain took his part in helping, moving one foot in front of the other at his own pace. It did startle him just a tad bit, that the figures were able to move him at ease, but after witnessing the plague make a mind of its own, an intelligent one, at that, it’ll be hard to surprise him now days.

“I am not so barbaric as to make demands of you while you are in such a weakened condition,” Fabian said, waving away the idea with one leather-gloved hand. “If you feel the need to repay my charity once you are well again, we can have further conversation on the matter. In the meantime…” they shrugged their shoulders, fur and velvet moving in the dim light. “...I am sure if I am ever in need of help in the future, you are the kind of man who honors a debt in an hour of need…”

“Oh, you are alive after all…how disappointing.”

The words spoken with mocking amusement - as if the speaker was less interested in actually seeing the man die and more interested in what was left of him after he did. For such was the case, when one was a necromancer…studying the corpse of one possessed by a spirit of plague would have been interesting.

“Wolfrick, Lee…help the poor fellow up, will you…”

And two figures obeyed the command - and two pairs of hands would - not ungently - take the ill-used man and pull him to his feet, steadying him once he was upright, keeping him from falling again.

He would find himself face to face - well, almost, he’d have to look down a bit as the speaker was considerably shorter than him - with a plague doctor. At least, in theory it was a plague doctor - the white bird-shaped mask was certainly doctor inspired. The black leather feathers smoothed back over the hatless head were perhaps unique, as were the fur collar and layers of soft cloth that shrouded the figure like mismatched feathers.

Red lenses regarded the tall fellow, as if he were an interesting mouse in a complex maze, and then the stranger gestured with one lazy hand. “You have a alot to process, I imagine, and can do so much more safely indoors with a cup of tea in your hands than out here in the dirt….” a sort of sideways offer of hospitality, but there it was.

     His attention was grabbed immediately. His expression scowling at the voices disappointment…, but should he even blame anyone? After everything. His jaw flexes, allowing the two to help steady him. Waters came to grunt once more, his hand immediately holding his side as he is lifted. Once on his feet, he still slumped over, almost draping the figures like a blanket due to his massive height of seven feet. He could barely function properly and wouldn’t have the strength to pull away if he tried.

     The plans this doctor figure had was unknown, but Vain had little to no choice, but to seek help where help is offered. He ponders if he should even go with them, or seclude himself from society altogether. His eyes trail away from the shorter one to ponder. Only for his sights to return to them once more. He looks from the mask, to the attire. Taking at every single little detail he possibly could to mentally note this one. The mask was quite different, but he won’t say he didn’t like it. Actually, it was the opposite. If it wasn’t for the wrenching pain rocking his body, he would even consider it being the most classy doctor mask he’d seen… and he seen many in his days.

A hand came to rest on his pounding head. He was bruised? Oh. That's right. He was previously being controlled by a parasitic string of plague. One that was finally defeated by the hands of his son. He remembers now, and although his body was in pain, he still felt free. Though, the feeling of freedom was soon drenched in a sea of guilt. He thinks of his son. He thinks of his wife. He thinks of the countless deaths the new plague had caused- all because he was so imbecilic to see the truth all those years ago. He groans. Pinching the bridge of his nose with tightly shut eyes.

The words spoken with mocking amusement - as if the speaker was less interested in actually seeing the man die and more interested in what was left of him after he did. For such was the case, when one was a necromancer...studying the corpse of one possessed by a spirit of plague would have been interesting.

“Wolfrick, Lee...help the poor fellow up, will you…”

And two figures obeyed the command - and two pairs of hands would - not ungently - take the ill-used man and pull him to his feet, steadying him once he was upright, keeping him from falling again.

He would find himself face to face - well, almost, he’d have to look down a bit as the speaker was considerably shorter than him - with a plague doctor. At least, in theory it was a plague doctor - the white bird-shaped mask was certainly doctor inspired. The black leather feathers smoothed back over the hatless head were perhaps unique, as were the fur collar and layers of soft cloth that shrouded the figure like mismatched feathers.

A gift for @drbarty / @misterartist ! A little Barty celebrating the first night of Hanukkah, for the first night of Hanukkah!

I've also posted a process video on my tiktok @/rev1701 and I highly reccomend checking out Mr Artist's tiktok @/fanaticartisan as well for some top tier plague doctor content

Also here's a close up of Barty Face bc he's adorable:

          Barty stared a moment longer, unable to shake his awe of the man. Every time he tried to convince himself Atticus was just a person like any other, the idea was washed away after a moment in his presence.           Mentally scolding himself, Barty shook hi head, and came to sit down with the fellow.  “thank you for the offer. Um. I’m alright, I think.”        He shifted uneasily in his seat, and said, “Have you spoken with a lot of people who are in love? Is it very common? I mean I assume it is, but…I don’t know. Are all ‘in loves’ the same?”

     His smile blooms into a grin, then. Paying close attention to the love this man feels for another. It was some of the strongest he’s felt, matter of fact. So he lightly chuckled and lets his eyes return to Barty; temporarily finding themselves observing his own hands that fold together.

     “ I have, yes. ” His lips close, but the smile remains. Blue orbs study Dr.Wayman. From his body language to what stories his eyes alone tell. His head tilts. “ Common ? Yes and no. Many people say they are in love, but .. well. They aren’t quite there yet. To come across real love can be something close to rare, but not classified as such. I came across real love today. Or , it more so found its way to me.. now it sits beside me. ” An amused hum of sorts. His hand coming to rest on the other doctors shoulder.      “ Love comes in all shapes and sizes. Where love is an overall feeling, everyone experiences it differently. Love is found in different stories, different ways. Love is a strange and mysterious thing that can show up without warning at any given time. Tell me, is the thought of him almost distracting you from every day work ? Is he the last thing you think about before bed ? Is he he first thing you think about in the morning ? Do you smile when you hear from him ? Feel warm in his presence ? Does he do things for you no one else does? Does he make you feel special and is all of these things returned ? ”

    But he listened to the doctor’s words, processing the information as seriously as if he had asked for medical advice for a patient. Love in all shapes and sizes, expressed in different ways…

    He did look up when the questions began, still red in the face but nodding yes at every concept Atticus spoke of. Yes, yes, yes. Yes to it all. “He’s…he’s all I think about,” he whispered, blinking his eyes a bit rapidly. “Every moment of every day. I mean, I try to focus on work – I really do. So many are suffering. But every breath I’m not spending on telling a patient how to help themselves…” he looked down again, “I’m spending instead on wondering where he is, remembering things he said…it feels like I am drowning, sinking deeper and deeper, and…and I don’t even want it to stop. All I want is to hear his voice, to see him, to taste him…”

    Barty closed his eyes, a tremor going through him. “How can I have this? How can I be so happy – have something so wonderful, when everyone is suffering so much? And…how do I live, when my whole world revolves no more around the sun, but around a single man?”

Barty had been lingering, not sure he wanted to disturb the stately fellow from whatever thoughts he’d been entertaining. But he scooped his hat from his head and gave a small bow as he was noticed - for some reason he always felt it proper to be extra polite to Atticus. “S-sir, sorry to disturb you…” he said, sheepish. “I ah…I have come to ask for an analysis of sorts. As you are um. An expert on these things, as far as I’ve heard…” He blushed more than a little. His question of choice was…of a delicate nature.

     “ Analysis, you say? By all means. Come. Have a seat with me. ” His hand extended to a nearby bench. Flowing, delicate, divine in motion. His feet step lightly across concrete. The train of his robes gently trailing behind him.

     “ There is no need for shyness, Dr. Waymon. ” The grip on metal railing looses as his head turns to acknowledge the presents that enters his aura and abilities reach. “ Your flesh will go unbitten, I assure you. ” A kind, yet amused smile is offered to the other man, finally turning to face him. Perhaps his ‘ I don’t bite ‘ phrase was a bit too fancy, he thinks, but pays little mind to.

Gregory looked at the pile of dried, removed plants, and hummed in thought for a moment. They could be salvageable, but he’s not so sure if they would sell to well.

“You are welcome to them if you think they have any use. As well as to any of the other dead ones..”

He looked at the garden with a slight sigh, before he gazed back to the doctor. Smiling in return and giving an almost shy nod. He was no nature fae but he did greatly enjoy it’s beauty.

“My tastes are hardly refined~ But I do appreciate your kind words. Although.. I think it is I, who is fortunate. To have such a patient and knowledgeable teacher.”

That smile grew a little warmer as he gazed at the doctor, before he nodded and began rolling up his sleeves. Moving over to one of the other garden beds, so he could begin pulling up plants.

“Very well, if you are certain.”

A respectful nod was given, but a mental note was made. A reminder to himself to keep an eye on the doctor, to try and prevent him from getting overwhelmed again. Even more so, when night came and his home was bound to get visitors.

He quietly watched as the other lowered, and then brought up again the bucket of water. Waiting. Stepping closer. For when Barty turned around, he reached out. Slowly, so as not to spook him. But still, attempted to run his thumb across the man’s cheek, as if to wipe away a few more tears.

“I admire your strength, and your bravery.”

“You’re welcome, and I couldn’t agree more. These days are quite uncertain..”

A nod of agreement, speaking over his shoulder to the man as he walked a little more quickly. Wanting to have the garden gate open so Barty could walk right on through, instead of standing and waiting on him.

“Ah yes, I do. Quite a lot actually.. Just give me a moment to fetch them.”

He waited until the doctor had gone through the gate, so he could close it behind the man without letting anything else in. Once all was settled he trotted back into the house, making a quick trip upstairs to his room to grab a black, rather worn out, satchel. Inside the bag were many jars of all kinds of seeds, labels written and pasted onto each jar to tell which seed was what. It was with that bag that Gregory headed back outside, carefully opening it up as he walked back to Barty’s side.

“Very well, if you are certain.”

A respectful nod was given, but a mental note was made. A reminder to himself to keep an eye on the doctor, to try and prevent him from getting overwhelmed again. Even more so, when night came and his home was bound to get visitors.

He quietly watched as the other lowered, and then brought up again the bucket of water. Waiting. Stepping closer. For when Barty turned around, he reached out. Slowly, so as not to spook him. But still, attempted to run his thumb across the man’s cheek, as if to wipe away a few more tears.

“I admire your strength, and your bravery.”