Chapter Text
Nightmare is a powerful being, known as both the king and god of negativity by all who have heard of him (and no one in the multiverse hasn’t heard of him). He’s the scourge of the multiverse, a person who brings negativity and destruction everywhere he goes with his troupe of troublemakers. Yet, despite his immortality and godly power, his underlings are incredibly mortal, and all suffer from something or other. To ensure they are always battle-ready and loyal, Nightmare takes care of all their needs, including machines and creations to ease their daily pains.
But the upkeep of these things is tedious and certainly doesn’t fall into Nightmare’s wheelhouse of skills, so he got Science Sans—Sci—to fix anything that happened to break down, and by the stars did things break often. Sci is reliable, Nightmare admits that, and he’s the only person Nightmare trusts even slightly within his borders that isn’t part of his crew, but… Sci does have his own life. A life that Nightmare is constantly interrupting with demands to fix another thing that broke down out of nowhere.
“I do apologize for how often I call upon you,” Nightmare speaks one day as Sci sits on the ground, messing with wiring in a hidden panel on the wall of a room used as a sauna (the wiring connects to the heat gauge and timer; they can’t let it get too warm or let them sit inside too long, otherwise it’ll damage the bones of his crew).
“it’s alright, i did kinda sign up for this when you… abruptly appeared in my lab way back then,” Sci says, smiling nervously. Despite how long he’s worked for Nightmare, he’s never quite gotten used to the tar-covered skeleton.
Nightmare hums. “Still, you have a life and work to tend to. I do wish I didn’t have to call you here quite so often.”
“why not hire someone to do this work specifically, instead of calling me whenever you need something?” Sci questions. “i mean… i’m pretty sure no one can deny a request from you. or at least not easily…”
“I don’t trust anyone in the multiverse to be here other than you. None would be loyal and be able to manage these tasks,” the god huffs. “It certainly crossed my mind, though, don’t be mistaken.”
“huh. i guess you did only show up in my world because i’m a neutral party…” the glasses-wearing skeleton murmurs, finishing his work and placing the panel back into place. He stands up, dusting himself off. “there’s really no one qualified who wouldn’t like… immediately stab you in the back?”
“Not to my immediate knowledge, and I’ve looked. I even asked Error, despite how much he despises assisting me with finding people. Besides, it’d be rather nice to have both a mechanic and a medic, considering we’re lacking that as well. I doubt anyone is qualified for both types of work,” Nightmare states as he hands over a small bag filled with gold coins. He pays Sci very well for his work. Sci takes it but looks thoughtful, falling silent, and Nightmare raises a brow. “What’s going through that skull of your’s?”
Sci becomes flustered and nervous, laughing awkwardly as he steps back a bit, the bag of coins jingling in his palm. “a-ah, it’s nothing! just… i… may know someone who fits the bill. but… i don’t know if… she’d actually agree to work for you. heck, she’ll probably have my head just for mentioning her to you when she finds out.”
Nightmare is even more curious now. “I doubt it’s your Alphys… another one from a different world, perhaps? Maybe an Undyne, even? And I’m guessing she wouldn’t agree to work for me because of who I am.”
Sci shakes his head. “no, no, she’s a totally neutral party, like myself. in fact, i don’t think anyone in the multiverse could care less about what someone does. she just… isn’t the type to work for anyone without some kind of equal exchange, and her view of what is equal exchange can be rather specific,” he explains, glossing over the question of the woman he speaks of being an Alphys or Undyne.
“Would she be open to a meeting? To discuss terms?”
Sci blinks. “you… want to meet her? someone you’ve never even heard of?”
“You say she doesn’t care what anyone does, meaning as long as I am deemed useful in her eyes, she won’t betray me, and even if I ceased being useful, it’s unlikely she’d go spilling secrets to anyone. And you say she fits the bill, meaning she’s both qualified to do the work you’ve been doing as well as the work of being a medic. So, yes, I am interested, though I, of course, will determine for myself if she’s worth hiring,” Nightmare states, smiling a little at the disbelief coursing through Sci. It’s not exactly something he can feed on, but it is amusing.
Sci pockets the money he was given and rubs the back of his neck. “well, i can ask her, but i don’t know when she’ll visit next. she kinda just… pops in randomly. sometimes once a week, sometimes i don’t see her for months… but she’d probably be open to an initial meeting. might be the only way to convince her, actually.”
“I see. Well, do ask her next time she comes to see you. I look forward to finding a potential new hire who can fit the work I’ve been needing filled.” Sci nods in response.
It’s almost two months later (in general terms, as time works strangely across the multiverse) that Nightmare finally hears back about a potential meeting, and it’s through a letter he finds on his desk early that morning. Likely, it was delivered by Core, who does have access to his world despite his desires, but also stays out of his business for the majority of the time. They have an unspoken agreement to stay out of the other person’s way in exchange for mail deliveries and safe passage through some of the universes that Nightmare has silently claimed.
Opening it, the letter is rather short, written almost in a rush, as if Sci had taken any more time writing and sending it, the decision that was made would be immediately revoked for taking too long.
She’s agreed to meet with you in Outertale. She’ll arrive around noon, and if you’re late, she said she wouldn’t try to meet with you again. So, you should probably get there early. Pick a secluded spot, and she’ll find you without issue. Good luck! -Sci
“Outertale?” Nightmare questions to himself. Of all worlds, the woman Sci spoke of wishes to meet in such a place? “Perhaps it has significance to her,” he muses, pocketing the letter. A knock on the door to his office has Nightmare turning, feeling the energy in the air. “Come in, Cross.”
Cross opens the door, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “Good morning, boss. Breakfast is almost ready,” he says immediately, standing at attention. Invisible to everyone but Cross, his Chara floats next to him, looking entirely displeased at being near Nightmare.
“I see. Tell Horror that I apologize, but I won’t be able to join you today. I need to step out and see to some urgent business,” Nightmare says simply.
Cross tilts his head a little. “Urgent business? Shall one of us come with you?”
“No need. It’s just a meeting. I should be back a bit after lunch, so long as all goes well.”
Still curious but knowing better than to press for answers, Cross just nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll let Horror know. Is there anything you’d like us to do while you are gone?”
“Continue with training today. No sparring, just exercise. And have Horror check our food stocks and make a list of anything we need.”
Cross nods again, bows slightly, and leaves the room silently. Nightmare stretches a bit before opening one of his inky black portals and stepping through, emerging in the forever-night of Outertale, with only the stars to light the dim, space-themed universe. Like many things dealing with Monsterkind, the landmasses making up Outertale’s main area defy the usual laws of nature, though they do have their limits.
Each floating chunk of land holds its own gravitational force to prevent monsters and humans alike from floating off into the infinite abyss surrounding them, though walking and jumping do have a certain floaty quality to them, similar to how the moon works. And there is breathable air despite it being space, with helmets more or less being cosmetic in nature.
Nightmare can’t deny that the world is pretty, at least. For how strange it is, even by multiverse standards, the stars are gorgeous and bright all the time, and the flora and fauna native to the world can be nice to look at. Sometimes, he takes his crew here to unwind, usually after a Genocide run when they’re less likely to be interrupted by anyone, but one of those hasn’t happened in a while.
Blipping across the universe through his shadows, Nightmare eventually comes across a small floating island out of the way from the usual path people take, somewhere nice and private where he and the woman Sci spoke of won’t be interrupted or overheard. He’s many hours early, so Nightmare begins killing time by fishing across the multiverse for negative emotions to snack on.
When that runs its course, he checks in on his crew with a one-way portal, spotting them doing their training, and continues watching for a while, all the way until lunchtime, where they finally leave the exercise room and begin heading for the dining room.
“I’m guessing you’re Nightmare?” A woman’s voice, cold and blank, echoes suddenly behind Nightmare.
He keeps his body language the same, ensuring his physical presence doesn’t change as he shuts the one-way portal, but he still feels the surprise inside. When did she get here? How did he not sense her arrival? He can feel her now that he’s aware of her, the solid presence of another person just a few feet behind him, but even now he can’t sense her magic or any emotions. It’s like trying to feel something from a brick wall.
He’s never been snuck up on like this before. At least, not since he became what he is now. He’s always so acutely aware of when someone is nearby, or even when they’re not. And yet… she appeared like it was nothing. Deadly silent and completely hidden until she was ready to be known.
Nightmare turns around casually, expecting to find one of the usual duplicates one sees across the multiverse. An Alphys, Undyne, Toriel, or even the rare Muffet. Maybe even a gender-swapped version of someone else. But that isn’t what he sees. The woman standing behind him is nothing like anyone or anything he’s ever seen or heard of before.
Her body appears mainly human, though she’s almost entirely clad in clothing that hides her skin, save for her hands and face. A black turtleneck sweater, a red labcoat buttoned as much as it can be, dark blue bell-bottom jeans, and dark brown heeled boots decorate her short stature, standing at 5’6” with the heels and likely around 5’4” without them. Her hands are at her sides, showing sharp, red-painted nails.
One of the inhuman things is the long, fluffy black tail sprouting from her lower back, remaining still behind her, and Nightmare swears he sees something silver glint amongst the fur for a second. Her face, like her body shape, is mostly human, with skin so pale she could be a corpse and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Long brown hair drapes down her back, going so far as to reach the middle of her calves, and her bangs cover her left eye.
The visible one is angled with a powder blue iris, her expression resting in an eternally pissed off look. Her lips are full, and from the corners of her mouth stretch two symmetrical lines leading all the way up her cheeks and toward her ears. They look strikingly like scars, but scars are never that symmetrical. Her ears are long and pointed, decorated with large four-pointed stars made of gold and two thick bands of gold closer to the tips of her ears.
From her forehead sprout a pair of long, sharp horns that appear similar to magic ectoplasm bodies, made from blood-red magic with a jelly-like appearance, but they’re very solid and shiny. If he touched them, Nightmare is sure they’d be hard like bone or steel. They curve up toward the sky instead of pointing outward, so they’re not quite as much of a threat as one would expect.
“I am,” he finally responds, his tone easy but professional. “And you must be the contact Sci spoke of.”
“That would be me,” she confirms, not moving closer. “I was going to deny you outright, but Sci thought you might be useful to me. So, here I am.”
“I see. And what is your name? I can’t exactly begin a discussion of employment without knowing who I’m possibly employing.”
The woman stares at him for a while, unblinking, then finally opens her mouth again. He can barely see rows of razor-sharp teeth inside her mouth. “Flora. However, call me whatever you want. I don’t particularly care what I’m referred to as.”
“I see. Flora it is, then. Now, before we begin, do you have any qualms working for me at all? Sci said you’d be a neutral party, but one can never be positive. Many say they are neutral only to really pick a side once they meet me.”
Flora shrugs slightly. “He said that because I don’t know you.”
“Well, clearly. We’ve only just met,” Nightmare grins slightly.
“Let me specify. I’ve never heard of you until Sci told me about you. I isolate myself entirely from the rest of the multiverse, save for my sparse visits to Sci or other places to gather materials. I didn’t know of the… God of Negativity, as Sci calls you, until he told me you wanted to meet,” she corrects, looking entirely unbothered.
Nightmares stares at her in disbelief. How has she never heard of him? Of the war he’s been waging for years now, a war that has spread across the entire multiverse? How isolated can one person make themself that nothing about this huge event ever made it to their ears?
“I… see. That is quite… unique. I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t at least heard of me before,” he murmurs, intrigued. “Shall I give you a brief overview of my aims, then?”
“I don’t care for your goals,” Flora immediately responds. “Besides, Sci gave me a brief rundown after I agreed to meet. I know enough to find your war idiotic and useless, but I’m not getting into that, considering I don’t aim to change your mind. I just want to know what, exactly, you want me for and what you can give me in return.”
Each word she speaks has Nightmare reeling. Clearly, she has her personal views of the things transpiring since being made aware of them, yet because she cares so little about what happens to others, she simply won’t share her opinions because there’s no point. All she cares about is the job and nothing else. No one is ever this clear-cut with him, but he can’t sense anything ulterior to her words or being.
“Then I’ll get right into it,” he says carefully. “I require both a mechanic and a medic. There are many machines, items, and important tools in my abode for the use of both myself and my crew. Ones that are constantly breaking down for one reason or another. Sci usually takes care of that, but it’s taxing to constantly fetch him for repairs, so someone living in the castle capable of the work is a necessity at this point.
My crew also has a habit of getting injured regularly, both from missions and training. I am not gifted in healing magic, nor are any of them, and the more normal ways of healing injuries and illnesses are not within my skill set. Sci told me you are capable of doing both these things, and I assume you wouldn’t have an issue with moving into my home should you accept this job.”
Flora sighs, but her expression doesn’t change at all, despite her seemingly feeling exasperated. “Sci and his big mouth… yes, I am capable of fixing machines and performing medical care, both beginner and advanced. However, I won’t be working for anyone without some kind of compensation, especially if this work is going to majorly cut into my research.”
“What is it that you seek? Money? Tools? People?” Nightmare questions.
Flora stares at him. “How far would you be willing to bend to get what you desire?” She suddenly questions. “Would anything be out of line? Would anything be seen as too much to give? How far would you go if it meant achieving everything you desire?”
At first, he thinks she’s asking him if he’d be willing to give her anything she asks for, and he’s prepared to say “only within reason”, but then he realizes that isn’t what she’s asking. It’s a literal question of his goals. How far would Nightmare be willing to go to get what he wants?
It’s a test question. She’s gauging his response to figure out how to respond to him. To see if he’s worth the trouble of answering truthfully.
He thinks for a bit, and this doesn’t seem to bother her. In fact, she stands a little straighter as she waits, almost like she’s pleased he’s not answering immediately. Finally, he decides on his answer, something both true to how he feels and that will likely be what Flora seeks.
“I don’t believe there is a proper answer to that question,” he says carefully. “After all, most people believe they are willing to do anything for their goals, only to later find out that there are some things they simply can’t part with when faced with such a decision. I may believe I am willing to throw everything away if it means getting what I want, but even someone like me must have their limits. So… I suppose I shall only have to wait and see what I will give and will not.”
Flora hums. “I see. Doesn’t jump right into a proper response, instead decides that the future isn’t something they can predict…” she murmurs to herself. “I expected you to be more… sure of yourself. Prideful to a horrible extent, considering your titles. But you are rather humble in some regards.”
Nightmare chuckles. “Oh, I’m well aware of my strengths just as I know my weaknesses. If I don’t know such things, I’ll never get anywhere meaningful. Too much pride is detrimental, so I’m always sure to keep mine in check.”
“There is only so far someone can keep themself in check,” Flora answers. “You, like everyone else, will soon find that your weaknesses have much more control over you than you first believed. Nobody can escape that, just like nobody can escape death.”
“You speak like you have experience.”
“I’ve lived a long time. Too long, frankly. But I’m not here to talk about myself. Your answer is acceptable.”
“Then will you tell me what you want in exchange for working for me?”
Flora blinks and then places her hands in her coat pockets. “It’s less what I want in exchange and more like I have conditions before I agree to anything.”
“I see. Go on, then. So long as they aren’t absurd, I’m sure I’ll agree.”
“Firstly, my research is everything to me. I will continue it, regardless of working for you or not, so I desire a lab within your base of operations where I can work with minimal interruptions. Any and all free time will be used by me to work on my research.”
“Understandable,” Nightmare nods, motioning for her to continue.
“Secondly, I refuse to be part of your war. I am not a soldier you can send to the field. I will be your medic/mechanic and only that. Anything else you want me to do is at my discretion, even if it’s something as simple as running errands. If I don’t wish to do it, I won’t, and you will not force me.”
“So long as you listen to orders pertaining to your hired work, I don’t care if you agree or refuse to do other tasks.”
“Thirdly, I want access to any and all information you possess on the multiverse, including its inhabitants. I’m sure someone like you has tons of it, and I want to be able to peruse it all at my discretion.”
“My library is open to all who work for me, and the only off-limits things pertain to future raids or plans, to prevent leaks to my brother and his entourage.”
Flora nods. “Finally, I’m not loyal to you. I would not join you because I believe in your goals or benefit from your war. I would work for you because you are useful. If that usefulness ends, then I want to be able to leave without issue.”
Nightmare narrows his socket a bit. That one was to be expected, as Flora gave him the impression of someone who’d want to avoid long-lasting contracts that are a pain to escape. But it could still be troublesome for him, especially if she decided it randomly and disappeared without warning.
“May I suggest a tweak to that condition?” He questions.
“Be my guest.”
“You will be free to leave when you believe me and my men are no longer useful to you, but you cannot do so without warning. I’d like a month’s notice, during which time you are to continue your work while I search for a hopeful replacement. And we will discuss anything you may desire to keep you on, should you prove your worth.”
“Hm. Fine. I can accept that. But I don’t believe you’ll become useless to me quickly. I’m guessing I’ll be provided anything I require for both my hired work and personal research as a way to keep me interested?”
Nightmare nods. “Any future desires that are within reason, both for work and personal causes, will be granted. This would include materials you may need.”
“Then it seems I’ll be unlikely to decide you're pointless to work for, at least anytime soon.”
“We have a deal, then?” Nightmare asks, holding out his hand.
Flora glances at his outstretched hand but doesn’t move forward to shake it, instead looking back up at him. “I don’t agree to things through word-of-mouth or handshakes. Make a contract with everything discussed, including specifics related to the work you want done, and then we’ll talk about me truly joining you. Inform Sci when it’s done. I’ll visit him regularly to ensure I don’t miss it.”
Nightmare smiles, letting his hand fall back to his side. “I like people who don’t make deals without ensuring they’ll be followed. I’ll get to work. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”
“Then I shall see you in a day or two,” Flora states, turning around. “I look forward to see how useful you will really be, God of Negativity.”
Nightmare watches as she removes one of her hands from her pockets, angling it sideways and slightly downward. Blood-red magic forms at her fingertips before she slices her hand upward, a tear in the fabric of reality opening with it like a pair of scissors cutting wrapping paper. He can’t see anything on the other side, and Flora steps through without another word, the portal instantly shutting once the end of her tail slips through.
“My, what in the multiverse did you send my way, Sci?” Nightmare mumbles, his tentacles flicking around curiously. “That woman is certainly nothing I’ve ever known before. No wonder you brought her up in the first place.”
Just as he said, two days later, Nightmare sends word to Sci that the contract has been written, and almost immediately, he gets a response that Flora will be waiting in Outertale. When he arrives, he finds her staring up at the starry sky blankly, her hands in her pockets, and her ears twitch the second he steps fully out of his portal. Her head lowers, and she turns to look at him, silently removing one of her hands from her pocket and holding it out.
Nightmare hands over the multi-page contract with one of his tentacles so he can keep distance between her and him, and she begins looking through it, reading each word and clause carefully. In short, along with her conditions set in the contract, she also has conditions given to her by Nightmare, along with more thorough explanations of her work and what is expected of her.
She’s to tend to all machine breakdowns, regardless of type, and fix them the moment she has the tools and materials. Anything she lacks will be provided, and a store room for parts has already been set up for her. This also includes looking at anything the others say is acting up to prevent a full breakdown of the machine. She isn’t limited to just machines, though, and must also fix anything she is capable of, though if something falls outside her expertise, she is to inform Nightmare immediately so he can get someone else to do it.
For the medical part of her work, she’s to tend to all manner of injuries, illnesses, and health complications plaguing the group, both regularly and after raids or missions. This includes mental or emotional assistance where possible. She is to keep track of the others and any concerning things she notices regarding their health and safety while inside the castle. If a mission is going poorly, she is expected to fetch the others the second Nightmare requests it so that she can immediately get them to the medical bay. She is not expected to fight during these times, but has permission to do so if deemed necessary.
If requested, she is to tend to anything the others think may be wrong with them or another in the group, and is to take their desires or fears into consideration during treatment. If not possible, she is allowed to push it, including getting Nightmare’s assistance with enforcing treatment, should one of the others be dodging it.
“So?” Nightmare finally speaks when she gets to the end, where his signature already is, and an empty line waits for her’s.
“I find this agreeable,” Flora states, removing her other hand from her pocket, a pen clutched between her fingers. “I will work for you. Let’s hope this partnership isn’t a waste for either side.”
Flora signs her name on the empty line neatly before putting the pen away, then moves forward and stands in front of Nightmare. It’s the closest she’s been to him during their very short meetings. She hands over the signed contract, and Nightmare takes it, placing it within his Inventory.
“Wonderful. The lab you requested has already been set aside. I assume you’ll need some time to gather your things from wherever you reside?” He asks.
“I can do it on my own time. I’m sure you’d like to get me to start work as soon as possible.”
He smiles. “Indeed. I’d like your first day to be a consultation on the current health status of my men. It’s best to have it in your records, after all, so you know their usual health status.”
“Lead the way, then.”
Nightmare opens one of his portals and motions for Flora to go first. Usually, people who first go through one of his portals hesitate due to the mass amount of negativity and coldness they exude, but Flora steps forward and through it without any fuss. Another thing that makes her all the more interesting for Nightmare. He follows her and shuts the portal once he’s through, standing with Flora inside the medical room.
A line of five beds with white sheets and pillows is against the wall across from them, each with a curtain that can be pulled around them to give people lying down some privacy. Next to each bed is a side table, and on the footboard of each hangs a clipboard, currently void of any paper. There are cabinets filled with properly arranged medicine, tools, and other medical supplies opposite them, along with a desk, filing cabinets, a printer, a copier, a computer, and an office chair near where they popped out of his portal.
The room is otherwise barren, with white walls, white tiled floors, and large overhead lights set to just bright enough to see but not blinding. It’s also very cold, but then again, the only inhabitants of the castle are skeleton monsters who can rarely feel temperatures. So, Nightmare doesn’t bother to keep it heated to a reasonable level, and the negative energy he lets off (and used to build the castle) keeps things frigid as is.
He thinks for a moment he’ll have to change this since Flora has flesh, but she appears unbothered by the coldness for the most part, though she does place her hands back in her pockets.
“Does that copier work?” Flora questions, staring at the machine.
“It does,” Nightmare confirms.
“Good. While you round up your men, I’ll make a list of things to ask and jot down, then copy it.”
And without another word, she walks to the desk, finds some blank paper, and begins writing with her pen, her eyes narrowing a little further as she focuses. While he’d like to observe her work, he does need to gather the others, so he leaves the room and uses one of his portals to hop to the other side of the castle, where they are gathered in the training room.
“Boss!” Cross is the first to notice him, immediately setting his weights down and walking over, and the others soon follow after.
“Welcome back,” Killer grins. “Missed ya at lunch. Out havin’ fun without us?” He then pouts.
“Not at all,” Nightmare responds simply. “I was just fetching the newest recruit. We have a mechanic and a medic now.”
“two?” Dust questions.
“One. She does both jobs.”
“Ooo~. She? Finally, an end to the sausage party we have,” Killer snickers.
“that was bad,” Dust mumbles.
“Nuh-uh!”
“yeah-huh.”
“hush,” Horror’s rumbling voice gets both Dust and Killer to quiet down. His big, red eye light focuses on Nightmare. “we gon’ meet ‘er, boss?”
“Indeed. She needs to do a general check-up on you all. Hurry and get presentable, which includes showers, and then meet up at the medical room,” Nightmare confirms, one of his tentacles motioning to the shower room attached to the exercise room.
“Yes, boss.” All of them chime in unison before heading toward the showers.
Nightmare leaves and appears back in the medical room, finding Flora stapling papers together into packets. Only one seems to be the written version; the rest were copied, but the text is neat, orderly, and almost computer-like. Somehow, in the time he was gone, an eye test chart appeared on the wall near the desk, of which he’s sure he never owned, so wherever Flora got it from, he’s not sure how she did it without him noticing. Clearly, it had to be brought there with magic, but he didn’t feel anything happen within the castle walls.
He can normally tell when anyone uses magic in his pocket dimension, regardless of how little or how sneakily. He doesn’t dwell long on it, though, because he’s not silly enough to ponder something that he’ll likely never get a proper answer for. It’d be a waste of brain power, after all, and he has many more important things to think about.
“They’re on their way,” Nightmare states, Flora nodding once to show she heard him. “I’ll introduce them once they arrive.”
“Got it,” she answers easily as her ears twitch again, right as she finishes stapling the papers together. She turns her head to the door right when Nightmare hears approaching footsteps, and he also turns to face the door as it opens.
“We’re here,” Killer chimes, practically skipping into the room. All four of them are freshly showered and in new clothes, smelling like lavender, which coats their natural scents like a thin blanket.
“Hey, be careful! Things in this room are delicate,” Cross chides Killer for his too-lax demeanor as the skeleton nearly knocks into a shelf nearby, despite it being empty.
“Such a mood-killer, Criss-cross,” Killer sticks his tongue out before whirling around to find their new recruit. “So, who’s the newb-” his empty gaze lands on Flora, and he freezes in place, his mind trying to understand who and what he’s looking at.
“why’d the loud one go quiet?” Dust questions before spotting Flora, stopping in place as all the metaphorical gears in his head grind to a stop.
Neither Cross nor Horror says anything, but they’re both frozen in place. Cross looks more surprised and curious, while Horror… he looks almost… frightened? Nightmare can feel the emotions of each of them. Killer’s shock yet bubbling excitement, Dust’s silent distrust and discomfort, Cross’s clear curiosity at the new person, and Horror’s fear and… disgust?
Nightmare tilts his head, seeping his powers deeper into Horror’s disgusted feelings to understand them better, because something feels off about it. Feeling for the specifics, he finds that the disgust appears aimed less at Flora as a whole and more at her human-like appearance.
Ah, it’s her flesh, Nightmare thinks. After being forced to eat humans, it’s no wonder he detests looking at someone who reminds him of that. I should’ve warned him.
“Four?” Flora questions, though something in her voice tells Nightmare that she isn’t actually confused. As if she already knew there were only four people under his rule.
“Indeed. While we are few in numbers, they make up for it in effectiveness and loyalty,” Nightmare states. “This is Killer, Dust, Horror, and Cross, who is rather new compared to the other three. Everyone, this is Flora.”
“Charmed,” Flora says, not at all sounding like she means it. “I’ll be serving as your doctor and mechanic until I stop benefitting from this arrangement.”
“what?” Dust asks, eyes narrowing. He already didn’t like her based on her demeanor, but she’s speaking like she doesn’t even want to be here.
“I am under contract to work here. I wouldn’t be serving Nightmare unless I got something of worth out of it. After all, I don’t exactly believe in anything you lot do or this war you’re waging against…” Flora trails off for a moment and then looks at Nightmare. “Your brother, I believe? Sci didn’t go into specifics when he gave me the rundown, just that you were related to the… enemy.”
Nightmare nods. “Yes, his name is Dream. You’re bound to run into him at some point, along with Ink and Blue, with whom he works.”
“Hold up,” Killer juts in, holding up his hands. “Boss, you hired someone who doesn’t even wanna help with your takeover?”
“Yes. Flora is useful with her skillset, and the things she wants in return for her work aren’t difficult to fulfil,” he states, narrowing his gaze. “Are you questioning my decisions?”
“Yes!” Killer says, much to the surprise of Flora (though it doesn’t show).
“for once, the idiot is right,” Dust murmurs, glaring at Flora before shifting his gaze to Nightmare. “we don’t know what she’d do to us. you expect us to trust her with our health?”
“i… wanna go back t’ trainin’,” Horror mumbles, trying to keep far away from Flora while remaining close to the others.
Nightmare glares darkly. “Just because I tolerate your occasional insubordination does not mean you have the right to speak to me as you wish,” he hisses, his tentacles undulating in accordance with his emotions as the three skeletons immediately bow their heads. “You will allow her to do her job, you will not impede her work, and you will shut your mouths unless you have a decent reason to complain, of which you don’t. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” all three respond, though none of them sound pleased about it.
“So, you do act like you’re in charge,” Flora says, tilting her head. “I almost believed you were a leader in name only. It’s pleasing to see that it was a false belief. A man who lets his minions walk all over him is doomed to failure.”
“I let them speak their minds, but I am not fool enough to let them do whatever they please,” Nightmare huffs, relaxing his face and body to his usual composed manner. “This, of course, applies to you as well.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” Flora states. “I have no desire to test the limits of your patience. I’m no fool, either.”
“Then we have an understanding. How are you wanting to proceed with your examinations?”
“One at a time. I don’t wish to listen to all of them speak over another,” she explains, looking at Cross first. “I’ll start with the one who has yet to complain and work my way down the line. The others can wait outside. You may either join them or observe my work, I don’t care which.”
Nightmare nods and opts to follow Killer, Dust, and Horror out of the medical room, shutting the door behind him so that Cross and Flora are left alone. Flora stares at the door and then flicks her hand toward it. Cross watches as wispy, blood-red magic jolts from Flora’s hand and covers the door, then spans across the walls, floor, and ceiling until everything is coated in her magic, before sinking into the surfaces. Only the doorknob glows softly, now.
“What was that?” Cross questions as he sits down on a chair he realizes appeared behind him at some point.
“A soundproofing spell. It will ensure nothing is overheard from outside. I doubt those three would attempt to listen in with Nightmare out there, but I’d rather not take any chances. Patient confidentiality is important,” she states easily, pulling out the office chair and sitting down with one of the packets pinned to a clipboard. She takes her pen from her coat pocket, clicks it, and points it at the top of the sheet. “I’ll begin with a series of questions. Ready?”
Cross sits a little straighter and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Name, age, birth gender, and preferred pronouns?”
“Um… Cross, 24, male, and he/him.”
Flora writes everything down neatly. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your daily stress levels?”
“Maybe… a 3?”
“Daily anxiety?”
“2?”
Flora just continues writing, not nodding along or making any sound outside the scratching of her pen on paper. “Do you have any allergies?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Any current injuries?”
Cross shakes his head, but something about Flora’s intense gaze and her lack of writing makes him shrink in a little. “W-Well, I did suffer a minor injury the other day during training… but I’m fine!”
“Let me see.”
Yeah, he doesn’t know why he thought that would work, considering Flora appears to be the type to take her job seriously, regardless of whether she wanted the job or not. Cross pulls up one of his sleeves, exposing his left arm, and watches as Flora’s eyes find the crack in his ulna instantly, without him even needing to point it out.
“I-It’s just a small crack. It’ll heal up in no time!” Cross states before watching as Flora silently stands up and walks to one of the cabinets. She fishes around for a bit, clearly not used to the layout of things quite yet, before returning with some lotion-like medicine and bandages.
“Arm,” she says while sitting back down and scooting closer to Cross. He quietly holds out his arm, and Flora reaches out to grab it, but pauses just before she touches him. “Do I have permission to touch your arm to treat your wound?”
Cross blinks, a little surprised. He didn’t take her for the kind of person to ask for permission for anything. “Oh, yes, of course.” Flora nods once, then places her hand gently around his wrist, and Cross’s breath hitches. Not from pain but surprise, because Flora is warm.
“What?” She asks, looking up at him as she uses her other hand to open the jar containing the medicine, which sits on her thigh.
“It’s just… you’re warm,” Cross says, staring at her pale hand around his wrist, which keeps his arm in a position that allows her easy access to his wound.
Flora blinks. “Yes? I do have flesh and blood. Of course I’m warm.”
“No, I mean… I can feel it. Skeleton monsters don’t… usually feel warmth. Or cold. Temperatures have to change rapidly, or we have to be in a really hot or cold place for a while before we start feeling anything… and usually it’s minor.”
“Ah. I forgot about that,” she murmurs before scooping some of the medicine onto her fingers and carefully applying it to the crack in Cross’s ulna. “Well. Now you know you can feel my warmth, I suppose.”
“I didn’t know humans ran this hot… or, uh… human-like people? You don’t… seem like a monster.”
“Very astute of you. I’m not, though I’m not human either.”
“Then… what are you?”
“You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is my name and my job,” Flora answers.
Cross is a little upset by the perceived rudeness but doesn’t say anything further, letting her continue patching him up. Once she’s done and everything has been put away, she continues with her questions, such as how often he eats in a day, how many hours of sleep he averages, his daily training regimen, and many other things. By the end, Cross is shell-shocked by how thorough she is, taking absolutely everything about him into consideration instead of the simple things he expected.
“Next, I’ll need to do a physical examination of both your body and your soul. Pick which you’d rather have me do first,” Flora finally says as they finish the questions.
“Um… my soul, I suppose?” Cross says, not particular about which she begins with. After all, he had to do similar exams during his time as a Royal Guard, though it is stranger now since his soul has changed after everything that happened.
“Bring it out, then.”
Cross focuses on his soul, and after a moment, it manifests in front of his chest, the split halves bobbing gently up and down in perfect synchronization. He expects surprise or at least some kind of curiosity to pass over Flora’s face, but she remains stoic as she reaches out and has the soul float over her hand, pulling it closer to her.
“Um… do you need to know who the other half belonged to or…?” Cross mumbles, not sure what she wants to do with his soul, considering his old exams used to just be a quick observation of his soul, but Flora has already proven that her methods are far more in-depth.
“No. I can tell by looking at it,” she says simply, and not explaining further as she stares at it blankly. Neither of them speaks again, though Cross expects her to tell him something once she’s done looking at his soul. Yet, when she finally passes it back, and he absorbs it into himself again, she just writes something down and instructs him to undress for the physical examination.
“Wait, that’s it? You aren’t going to tell me if anything was wrong?” Cross asks, though he is automatically standing up to follow her orders.
“I figured you’d assume everything was fine if I didn’t say anything,” Flora answers, keeping her eyes downcast at her clipboard, still writing.
“Well… I guess that makes sense, but I’d prefer hearing it…” he mumbles as he starts undoing all the clasps and buckles of his intricate outfit, shedding each piece of it carefully and making sure they’re all properly folded.
“I’ll try to remember that for next time,” she says back, but she doesn’t sound particularly serious about it.
Cross chooses not to respond, starting to feel like perhaps the others were right to not like Flora very much, but never says it aloud. He finishes undressing and lets Flora gently touch his exposed skeleton, though her fingers barely graze him and keep far from anywhere personal. Her eyes do the most work, raving over his bones and logging every little crack, bump, dent, or oddity in her head, which she then jots down on her clipboard.
Once she’s examined and jotted down everything, Cross redresses, and Flora… doesn’t say anything further, once again, at least not about anything medical related. “You can go. Send… Killer, I believe? Yes, send them in,” she instructs as she takes the packet she wrote all of Cross’s information on and places it inside a folder, which then goes into one of the filing cabinets.
“You really aren’t going to tell me anything?” Cross finally asks, remaining where he is.
Flora looks at him, unblinking, and Cross almost shivers at the coldness in that gaze. It doesn’t exactly feel like she’s upset; he can’t even see anything much in that gaze (and he can be decent at reading people who don’t emote much), but it’s unnerving. It feels like she’s reading him as if he’s a book, one that has no lock or way to hide information from her.
“If I told you something was wrong, would you believe me?” She finally asks.
“Of course! You’re supposed to be our doctor. You wouldn’t lie about stuff like that… I think.”
“Mhm. Yet, your words don’t hold that much belief in them. While you may take what I tell you as truth, you wouldn’t take it seriously, or at least not enough to actually do anything worthwhile to help yourself,” Flora states, turning back to her desk and placing a new packet on her clipboard. “I’d rather not waste time telling someone something if they won’t heed my advice to the fullest extent. It’s pointless. So, unless you are suffering from something that would kill you in less than two weeks, I will be keeping information to myself until I can be sure you’ll truly listen to me.”
And Cross is now fully certain Flora’s hiring was a mistake, but nobody will catch him saying anything to her or Nightmare. He just nods once, looking away, and leaves the room. Outside, he tells Killer that it’s his turn before standing against the wall with the others as Killer strides into the room. The constantly-smiling skeleton spots Flora making notes on a pad of paper, seemingly unaware that he’s entered the room.
Killer’s smile stretches a little and, without even questioning if it’s a good idea or not, he decides to mess with her. She’s so bland and hasn’t emoted once since showing up, and that makes Killer all the more interested in what a change of expression would look like on her. And he believes his usual method is the best way to see it.
Taking out one of his many knives strewn across his person, Killer moves toward Flora silently, too focused on getting closer to catch the slight twitch of her ears. The second he’s behind her, he goes to raise the knife to her neck, just to spook her a bit, but freezes as something sharp presses against his spine, angled right between the vertebrae in a way that could easily result in a severing of his spinal column. Glancing behind him, he sees Flora’s tail pressed close to him, but now he can see that the fuzzy black mass isn’t as cuddly as it appears.
Hidden inside the mass of black fur are tons of sharp, knife-like protrusions, with the biggest of them right at the tip of her tail, and it is currently the one pressing into his back. Flora shifts her head slightly, looking at him, and he expects her to be angry. But she isn’t. She’s still the same, no change occurring in her expression. If anything, he could say she may be unimpressed, but he really couldn’t tell for sure.
“You’re rather quiet for someone laden with knives,” Flora says simply. “But, to sneak up on me requires a skill I’ve never seen someone possess. Good try, though.”
“So… hidden weapons in your tail, huh?” Killer asks, not moving, because Flora hasn’t removed her threat of a fifth appendage from his back just yet.
“They can be for that, yes. Mostly, they’re a defence against someone who’d try to grab me via my tail,” she answers. “But if the need arises, they’re more than sharp and strong enough to cut through steel.” It goes unsaid that they could easily slice through bone, but the hint is there in her words.
“How ‘bout I put my knife away and you don’t cut me in two?” Killer suggests, trying to make himself look as innocent and trustworthy as possible.
“Do you mean the knife in your dominant hand or the smaller one you pulled from your pocket just now?” She tilts her head, her eye flicking to the small pocket knife now in Killer’s other hand.
“Dang. Thought I got away with that one,” Killer pouts but then smiles again. “But you’re wrong~. I’m ambidextrous, so neither is my dominant hand.”
“If I were anyone else, you would’ve. As for that, I’ll make a note. Now, weapons away, I don’t seek a fight.”
Killer sighs dramatically, playing up the disappointment as he puts both weapons away, and Flora immediately removes her tail from his back. “Buzzkill. If anything else, that’s the main reason I don’t like ya right now.”
“Mm. Good thing I don’t seek to be liked, then,” Flora states, motioning to a chair and watching as Killer plops down in it. “I’m going to start with a series of questions, though you appear to be the kind of person who’d lie to my face for fun to see me get frustrated, so I’ll say this now; you won’t be getting that out of me.”
“But how can I be so sure if I don’t try?” He pries, smiling deviously as he leans forward in the chair.
“By all means, try if you want, I just figured you should know your attempts will be in vain,” she shrugs, grabbing her clipboard. “I don’t feel emotions. I killed them.”
“Killed them?” Killer questions, stopping his leg swinging. Flora doesn’t reply to him and instead begins the questions.
Despite his previous threat of still trying to annoy her, Killer actually keeps the petty lies to a minimum and always eventually tells her the truth, though they both know it’s only because Nightmare wouldn’t like it if Killer truly impeded her work through his mischief. She asks him the same questions she did with Cross, writing down his answers, and then she checks his soul and body, of which he’s crass about and teases that she likes looking.
It doesn’t reward him with a change of expression or emotion, but the way she stares at him for far too long without moving afterward makes him almost entirely certain that some level of her is unimpressed. Once he’s reclothed and had his soul examined, he expects her to shoo him out and be done with him, but she doesn’t. Instead, she asks one last question.
“Your soul is rather unstable. It causes pain, yes?” Flora questions as she begins putting away his packet of information, just as she did with Cross’s.
“Everything in the world causes pain,” Killer answers, his smile twitching a little at the fact she could figure that out just through her cursory glance at his soul. She didn’t even touch it; he didn’t let her, and she didn’t fight, just stared at it while it hovered in his hand.
“True, but you know what I mean. You just won’t admit it to me,” she responds easily, looking at him. “If you ever decide you’d like to take a chance on my skills, let me know. I may be able to help find temporary relief for you.”
Killer laughs and doesn’t expect Flora to join in, but he’s surprised by the fact that she keeps looking at him. As if she meant it. “Careful, lady. That almost sounds like you want to look out for me,” he states.
“Personally, I don’t. However, my job is to care for all of you, regardless of whether the damage is physical, mental, emotional, or not always there. I’m sure Nightmare would have plenty of words for me if I didn’t at least inform you of that.” Killer blinks at her but doesn’t question anything else as he’s shooed out and told to send Dust in, of which he obeys simply because she’s managed to weird him out, and he doesn’t like that.
When Dust enters the room, he just glares at Flora before sitting down in the available chair. Flora doesn’t say much except to tell him the series of things she’ll be doing, and he just nods once. But when she begins her questions, Dust responds only with one word, and for any question that isn’t a yes or no one, it makes gathering any information difficult. Yet, Flora doesn’t say anything about it, just writes down what he tells her without protest or demands for more info.
“That concludes my questions,” Flora finally says, having quickly made it through the list thanks to Dust’s very simple replies. “Next is the physical exam. Pick one, soul or skeletal structure?”
“neither,” Dust says, his glare hardening. “i don’t want you looking at my body or handling my soul.”
Flora blinks but just looks at her clipboard and writes something down. “Send Horror in, then.”
He stares. “you aren’t going to tell me to suck it up?”
“I’m not Nightmare. I don’t care if you let me do my job to its fullest or not. It’s a miracle I got you to answer the questions at all, so I’ll take that,” she answers. “Besides, sooner or later, I’ll figure out what I need, especially when you inevitably get injured and need medical care.”
“you’re putting a lot of faith into something that may not happen.”
“I have the time to wait for when it does. I’ve always had time.”
“it’ll run out.”
Flora looks up. “Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. Either way, I don’t mind the outcome. Now, Horror, please.”
Dust gets up silently, moving toward the door and oblivious to Flora’s eyes locking onto something floating next to him, something that tries to speak, but its words seemingly either can’t be truly heard by Dust or are altered somehow, as Dust scowls slightly at the floating skull and gloved hands next to his head despite it speaking kindly, at least to Flora’s ears. Moments later, the biggest skeleton of the group shuffles in, shutting the door gently behind him. Despite being huge, Flora is keenly aware that this giant is of the gentle kind, at least when not in combat.
Horror seems almost skittish as he stares at Flora, his huge eye light locked on her face, and he doesn’t move from his spot near the door. Flora blinks at him before turning around and grabbing the packet she was going to use for his turn.
“Take this and fill it out as accurately as you can,” she says, not getting up and instead pushing magic into the packet of papers, which glows a deep red hue and begins floating toward Horror, ensuring distance between them is kept. “Feel free to ignore the physical section, though it would be helpful if you looked at your body and noted down any scars, bumps, or dips in the bones using the diagram on the second to last page.”
Horror stares for a moment at the floating packet before gently grabbing it out of the air, at which it stops glowing. It looks small in his large hands, but it doesn’t crinkle since he holds it so carefully. “y’aren’t gonna…?”
“Question you? No. I know better than to try and speak with someone who feels ill just looking at me,” Flora states, grabbing a fifth and final packet, placing it on her clipboard before putting Dust’s away. “Return it as soon as you can. Leave it on the desk or bring it to me wherever I am, whatever is easiest for you at the time.”
Horror just nods, deciding he won’t look a gyftrot in the mouth and turns, before pausing just as he places his hand on the door. “d’you… want boss to c’m in?”
“Yes, if you’d tell him to enter, I’d appreciate it.”
Horror nods again and leaves the room, shortly replaced by Nightmare, the last of the group. “How did it go?” He questions, striding over and standing near Flora. “Cross informed us of your spell once he was out, so I’m unaware of what happened inside. None of them spoke about it, outside Cross, but he was rather… simple in his explanation.”
“Cross was the most forthcoming with his answers and allowed me access to his physical state. Killer tried to stab me upon entering the room, or perhaps he was planning on just acting like he would to get a reaction out of me. Either way, he still answered my questions relatively easily and also let me look at his physical state,” Flora says, starting to write on the final packet.
“He what?”
“I’m not bothered, and it let me see more about his personality,” Flora states, waving her hand. “Dust was less than helpful. He gave me one-word responses to all questions and refused to allow me to look at his body or soul, even from a distance. Horror… he’s going to fill everything out on his own, to prevent him from getting ill just by being in the same room as me. I don’t expect it to be the most accurate thing, but some information is better than none.”
Nightmare sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he grumbles to himself before relaxing again. “It went better than expected, I suppose.”
“Indeed. Now, would you sit down so I can get started?”
Nightmare raises a brow. “Get started with what?”
Flora looks at him and, despite the lack of expression change, she almost seems to be staring at him like he’s an idiot. “For your examination. Your orders and the wording in the contract we both signed states that I am to care for everyone within your group. Unless I’m mistaken, this includes you, since as the leader you are also part of the group.”
Nightmare blinks. “Hm. I suppose I did word it that way, didn’t I? A slight oversight on my part, but no harm done. It’s possible I, too, would need medical help down the line. Alright then, you may do your examination, but my soul is off limits,” he instructs as he sits down where everyone else had during their turns.
“Understood,” Flora says before beginning her series of questions, all of which Nightmare answers truthfully, even when she asks about physical or mental issues he faces. Once she finishes with the questions, she looks up from the clipboard. “Now, as for the others, do you have information on them that I should know about? I doubt they all told me everything, so any mental, emotional, or physical issues they face that you know of would be helpful.”
“Hm. I do know of many. I suppose I’ll start with Cross. He has a fear of cows, something that he developed long before he came to work for me. He also has a bad habit of hiding when he’s injured or downplaying his injuries, as well as forcing himself to work through pain or damage simply because he tries to make himself believe it isn’t that serious. He also has a fear of abandonment and generalized anxiety, though he has gotten better at managing it over the course of his stay.”
Flora nods. “I see. I’ve made a mental note. What about Killer?”
“Killer suffers from occasional auditory hallucinations, frequent identity crises, and emotional regulation issues. I believe he also has a sensitivity to bright lights and frequent migraines and headaches. He usually powers through them or hides away in a dark place when they get particularly bad.”
“Noted. Dust?”
“He has both visual and auditory hallucinations of his deceased brother, general schizophrenia, depression, and was, at some point, bordering on insanity, though he’s become a bit more stable lately. Like Killer, he has frequent headaches and migraines, and his magic tends to be unstable, especially when he’s stressed or having an episode.”
“Is he medicated for his schizophrenia?”
“Yes, I deemed it necessary, though some of his hallucinations persist even with the medicine.”
“What does he take?” Flora questions. Nightmare pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper and hands it over, which Flora opens, reads, and then nods before handing it back. “I assume you’ll continue handling the acquisition of his medicine?”
“Indeed, I have my means, and it’s already a habit.”
“Alright. Finally, what about Horror?”
“I’m sure you’ve seen the physical damage to him.”
“Partly. The hole in his skull most definitely damaged his magic output and stability. One of his eye sockets has been damaged and seems to be continually damaged from something akin to tugging, which I assume is something he does when stressed.”
Nightmare smiles slightly. “Observant. Yes, Horror has poor magic output and struggles to summon even the most basic attacks, so he almost always uses his axe during missions. His damaged eye socket causes his depth perception to be a bit poor, but he actually sees better than you’d expect.”
“Hm, I see. Anything else?”
“Oh, plenty. I believe he’s my most damaged recruit, though also the most mentally stable most of the time. His memory can be rather poor, and he has both depression and anxiety. He gets frequent headaches and migraines, suffers from back pain, and has balance issues, usually when he’s on uneven ground.”
“Quite the list.”
“It can go further. He’s got food anxiety due to his past, though instead of manifesting as aggression, he won’t eat or hesitate to eat if others around him haven’t begun feasting yet. He desires for everyone to start first before he feels comfortable doing it himself.”
Flora hums. “Sounds like he found a way to manage it himself. Good for him, I suppose.”
“Indeed. I am pleased with his progress and expect him to continue getting better,” Nightmare states, sounding proud.
“I’m sure he will, eventually. It will certainly take work,” Flora responds, watching as Nightmare finally starts undressing so she can do the physical exam.
“So, tell me your thoughts. What did you think of them?” Nightmare questions as he folds his sweater and places it on the chair he had been sitting on, beginning to undo his pants.
Flora hums. “They’re damaged.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I meant in all senses,” she corrects, standing up and walking closer to him once he sheds his last piece of clothing, leaving his tar-covered bones on display. “From their souls to their physical states, they are all damaged in some capacity, to the point I’m surprised they’re functioning as well as they are. They need serious intervention on some fronts, intervention I can’t currently provide with their current view of me, and I don’t exactly plan to become any more approachable than I am now.”
“Would it kill you to smile at least once?” Nightmare asks, amused as Flora starts circling him like a vulture, though there isn’t any desire to cause harm floating around her soul. Just a whole lot of nothing, really. Not once has Nightmare managed to sense any kind of emotion from Flora, good or bad, and he’s not sure that’s desirable.
“Yes.”
“My, that almost sounds like you’re trying to be funny.”
“I may not express myself, but I understand the concept of such things, including humor,” Flora states, finishing her circling and returning to her desk, picking up the clipboard and beginning to write. “You can get dressed, I’m done.”
“Anything of note?”
“Your back is something to behold,” she answers, turning to look at him as he’s getting dressed. “Your spinal column has mostly fused together, mainly around the area from which your tentacles appear. You experience back pain, yes?”
Nightmare sighs. “Yes, I do. It’s rather taxing to deal with.”
“Do you do anything to help with it?”
“Nothing that’s worked long-term. I originally tried medicine, creams, and such. Right now, the only thing that helps is a soak in the large bath I had installed, but it only assists mildly.”
“So heat helps?”
“To my knowledge, yes, but since it’s hard to feel heat and it can’t permeate my bones well because of the tar…”
“Hm. I’ll look into solutions,” Flora says easily, waving her hand as if dismissing the matter before finishing her writing and putting the packet away with the others. “Anything else you want me to do or am I done for now?”
“For now, that’s it. I’ll show you to your room and then to the lab I set up, then you’ll be free to wander until lunch.”
“Am I required to join everyone for that?”
Nightmare blinks. “It’d be preferred, but I suppose it is best to give those fools some breathing room for now, so today you are allowed to be exempt from meals. I’ll have Cross bring you your food later.”
Flora stares for a moment, almost as if she wants to say something, but decides against it. “Alright. Lead the way, then.”
They exit the medical room and enter a long, dimly lit hallway. It looks like a hall you’d find in a castle, laden with paintings of landscapes, display vases and statues, suits of armor, and drapes of black velvet. The floor has a long, seemingly endless black and silver carpet in the center, stretching down the hallway and around corners, likely packed with similar, basic decoration. Silver chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the pale blue flames casting an eerie glow across the blackstone walls.
Everything feels cold and refined, as if no one could ever truly call this place home. It feels more like a fortress than anything else, but Flora says nothing as they begin walking, passing many thick wooden doors leading to rooms unknown.
As she mentally maps everything, Flora thinks to herself that this job may end up being more trouble than it’s worth, but she’s never turned down something simply because it was challenging. The challenge just tests her patience and resilience to people instead of her wits this time.
At the very least, she’ll get something out of it, and learning something is better than nothing, even if most of it may not help her with her research in the long run. She’s never turned down knowledge before, and she certainly won’t be starting to.