TEYVAT'S DR. FRANKENSTEIN !

there  was  a  pause  ——  gloved  hands  tightening  their  grip  on  a  pair  of  beakers.  (  one  raised,  its  contents  just  a  twitch  away  from  pouring  into  the  opposite  glass.  )  of  all  the  times  to  interrupt  him...  really?  then  again,  dottore  supposed  childe  making  a  nuisance  of  himself  at  the  worst  possible  moment  was  only  to  be  expected.

❝  i  see  it’s  time  to  change  the  locks  again.  ❞    he  quipped,  in  lieu  of  a  formal  greeting.  the  harbinger’s  voice  was  slightly  muffled,  courtesy  of  the  second  mask  covering  his  mouth  overtop  the  usual  one.    ❝  i’m  doing  something  important  ——  but  of  course,  asking  you  to  understand  is  beyond  your  comprehension.  ❞    figuratively  and  literally.  (  what  did  childe  know  about  chemistry?  )  dottore  spared  him  a  glance  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  awareness  of  their  close  proximity  clawing  away  at  him  like  a  pesky  little  itch.  then,  an  idea  suddenly  occurred  to  him  ——  and  he  tipped  the  beaker  on  impulse.  there  was  a  hiss  as  both  substances  made  contact,  and  a  mist  erupted  into  the  air  that  was  the  color  of  clotted  blood.

dottore  (  intentionally  )  waited  several  seconds,  maintaining  eye-contact  the  entire  time.  wonderfully  disconcerting!  it  was  a  talent.

“Aw, don’t sell yourself so short, Doctor. Are any of those people in possession of such unparalleled intelligence and means?”

Clearly, this man is buttering Dottore up for something.

   let it be known that the truth resides upon eons of corrupted debt and vigilance, that the truth stares at the masked man in distaste. politics, diplomatic immunity, none of this matters to the yaksha, he upturns his head to glare at the stranger that carries the stench of twisting corpses and death itself upon his soul. disgusting, revolting, xiao can’t stand it. he cares very little of what this human has to say, a traveler that seeks a blessing? of knowledge of wealth? that is all these humans ever ask for these days; gold and glory.

   ❝ i am not a pleasant truth, mortal. i am not a truth of grandeur nor benevolence; seek your answers elsewhere.❞

❝  oh,  you  misunderstand!  ❞    the  third  had  become  so  accustomed  to  rejection  he  hardly  so  much  as  flinched.  on  the  contrary,  lips  twisted  in  a  (  shameless  )  grin  ——  as  though  he  had  been  presented  with  an  interesting  little  puzzle  he  couldn’t  wait  to  pick  apart.    ❝  i  couldn’t  possibly  find  grandeur  and  benevolence  more  uninteresting  than  i  already  do!  the  truth  is  supposed  to  be  ugly!  the  truth  is  supposed  to  be  painful!  i  want  to  lay  my  eyes  upon  every  single  hideous  scrap  of  it!  ❞    no  matter  the  cost.  no  matter  the  burden.  such  was  the  very  nature  of  his  invaluable  work!

             ❝You have interesting ambitions. Just who are you? I have never seen you before, and I have seen many.❞

{ “I wasn’t aware that you desired to be treated as if you were ‘any other physician’.” The sixth sneers, lip curling disdainfully. Unwillingly, although necessary, Scaramouche steps further into the man’s office, taking care not to bump into any odd experiments or poorly placed stacks of books and papers. If Scaramouche were a claustrophobe this would probably be his worst nightmare.

Then again Dottore existed, so perhaps he’d rather be a claustrophobe.

“No, I came to see you out of the goodness of my heart.” He spits, sarcasm drier than the dunes of Sumeru. “Yes, I need something. I’ve just gotten back from Inazuma, successfully, mind you. So I took it upon myself to bring you and our Tsaritsa a souvenir.” From his robes he brandishes a recognizable glowing little chess piece, emanating faint electro energy.

Like holding candy out to a child, he sees the way Dottore’s eyes practically sparkle with anticipation.

“I know you must have a million ideas running through that head of yours, so I’ll cut you a deal. If you find some solutions to the problems I’ve been having recently, I’ll allow you to conduct a few experiments. You give me my fix, and I’ll give you yours. Sound fair?” He tucks the gnosis away into his palm, curling his fingers around it before depositing it back into his robes, the room growing dim once more in comparison its once shining light. 

Well, let it be said that Dottore didn’t have to worry about his valuable time being wasted with Scaramouche. }

a  comeback  weighed  heavy  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  ——  only  for  the  thought  to  be  discarded  immediately  (  as  such  often  were  )  when  the  change  of  subject  captured  dottore’s  attention  instead.  whatever  the  balladeer  got  up  to  in  inazuma  was  of  little  interest  to  him  on  its  own,  of  course.  mass  producing  delusions  to  test  on  a  greedy  populace  held  as  much  appeal  as  an  artist  painting  cheap  counterfeits  of  their  greatest  work.  (  though  he  WAS  curious  to  see  what  else  could  be  done  with  crystal  marrow  if  given  enough  time...  )  everything  else  was  just  mindless  tedium  and  political  theatre  ——  nonsense  dottore  couldn’t  have  possibly  been  less  invested  in.

although...  if  scaramouche  was  before  him  now,  boasting  of  his  success,  surely  that  would  mean  ——  ?

ah,  the  gnosis.  he  stared  at  it  with  a  certain  fervor  in  his  eyes  that  could  only  be  described  as  hungry.  fingers  twitched  ——  an  impulse  to  snatch  it  out  of  the  harbinger’s  hand  for  closer  inspection.    ❝  ...  what  an  interesting  choice  for  a  bargaining  chip.  ❞    dottore  quipped,  flashing  pointed  teeth  in  a  smile  utterly  devoid  of  any  comfort.  oh  yes,  he  could  work  with  this.    ❝  does  the  tsaritsa  know  you’re  using  the  gnosis  for  your  own  petty  gain?  hahaha...  either  way,  i  don’t  actually  care!  ❞    acquisition  of  information  took  priority;  how  could  he  ever  pass  up  such  an  ideal  opportunity?  it  was  no  different  from  an  animal  following  its  basest  instincts  ——  asking  the  third  to  show  restraint  was  akin  to  denying  a  bird  its  right  to  fly.

the  dimming  of  the  room  seemingly  brought  dottore  back  to  his  senses.  right.  this  was  a  negotiation,  not  a  charity.    ❝  these  so-called  problems  of  yours  must  be  awfully  serious  if  this  is  the  length  you’re  willing  to  go  to  for  a  solution...  ❞    notes  forgotten,  the  harbinger  tented  his  fingers  beneath  his  chin  ——  leaning  ever  so  slightly  closer  with  a  knowing  grin.

     Just when he thought his point had been made to the treasure hoarders, Dottore had to ruin the tension with his… grating voice. Two men lay on the ground one with a wide slash in the leg, the other, a clean stab through the arm. Each only had one injury each, but placed methodically, so one couldn’t stand and the other couldn’t handle his weapon. The third had a blade of jade pressed to his throat, a threat to give up what he had to at least start on his debt… 

      “Yes, that comes with the job, sir.” It’s clearly forced, not respectful in the slightest. Still, he could turn this in his favor. Chazaqiel looks over to the harbinger, working eye still cold and out of focus from his usual mindset during battle, “Perhaps if you’re interested, you can help this man out. I’m sure you can have him do something to repay the debt he owes. Donate a limb or two, for… science. Or whatever.” The man clearly didn’t like that, but when he backed away, the blade inched ever closer to his neck, keeping him in place. 

he  seemed  oblivious  to  the  other’s  tone  ——  or  (  more  likely  )  dottore  simply  didn’t  care.  the  harbinger  gave  a  dismissive  hum,  taking  a  moment  to  appreciate  chazaqiel’s  handiwork.  such  clean,  deliberate  cuts.  credit  where  credit  was  due,  the  little  bird  knew  his  way  around  a  blade.  it  was  merely  his  personality  that  was  in  dire  need  of  an  adjustment...  ah,  but  that  was  a  matter  to  be  dealt  with  at  a  later  time.

❝  ...  help,  hmm?  ❞    that  managed  to  catch  dottore’s  attention.  he  turned  his  gaze  to  their  unfortunate  little  victim,  lips  curving  in  a  wicked  smile.  oh.  oh,  they  were  doing  that,  were  they?  this  might  prove  even  more  interesting  than  anticipated.    ❝  why...  if  it’s  a  debt  he  owes  us,  that  should  be  easy  to  settle.  limbs  are  hardly  worth  half  their  weight  in  mora  these  days.  now,  we  could  take  a  lung  or  a  kidney...  with  a  few  simple  adjustments  and  a  restricted  diet,  the  stomach  can  be  removed  as  well.  ❞    he  tilted  his  head,  staring  at  the  man  like  one  would  a  freshly  cooked  steak.    ❝  the  appendix  ——  well,  our  friend  won’t  miss  that.  salivary  glands  and  teeth.  the  liver  should  regrow  what  we  harvest,  and  he  doesn’t  need  all  six  feet  of  large  intestine.  depending  on  market  price,  that  may  be  enough  to  settle  his  debt!  ❞    a  laugh,  cruel  and  grating.    ❝  if  not,  we  could  always  keep  going!  in  theory,  forty  five  percent  of  the  human  body  should  be  removable!  ah...  which  organ  would  you  say  is  your  least  favorite?  ❞    it  was  good  to  have  a  starting  point!

❝  it  may  behoove  you  to  know  i  have  obligations  outside  of  catering  to  your  every  whim.  ❞    of  course,  the  balladeer  stood  out  as  a  particular  subject  of  interest,  even  amidst  his  other  experiments  ——  a  fact  they  were  undoubtedly  both  aware  of.  it  was  for  that  very  same  reason  the  harbinger’s  tone  was  uncharacteristically  mild.    ❝  you  could  try  scheduling  an  appointment  next  time!  that  would  be  standard  practice  with  any  other  physician!  ❞    dottore  laughed  at  his  own  joke.  (  unapologetic  as  they  came.  )  no...  he  wasn’t  that  kind  of  doctor.

in  any  case,  best  to  cut  to  the  chase  before  the  other  lost  his  temper.  (  it  was  as  short  as  his  height,  hmm?  )    ❝  i  assume  since  you’re  here  now,  you  must  need  something?  ❞    an  upgrade,  a  checkup...  or  perhaps  something  else  entirely?  he  took  a  seat  at  his  desk,  fingers  already  scrambling  for  paper.  never  a  bad  time  to  take  notes  ——  to  capture  ephemeral  thoughts  as  they  came  to  him.