the doctor.⠀⠀✚
muse 𓈒 info 𓈒 past
likes 𓈒 self 𓈒 sample
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

medkit's hand grazes across the paper, graphite caked on from his finger to his wrists, smudging itself along the pages of his thesis. scrapped papers, dead pens, and a distractingly painful ache in his back—likely from his hunched posture, only account for three of the twenty bothersome things on his mind. time was an obstacle in the pursuit of knowledge, as his master used to tout. she'd removed any indicator of it years before he'd joined her coalition, and the tradition pressed on long after she'd transferred out.

it was comforting, in a way, to still follow her ordinances—even though she's no longer around to patrol the way he holds a pencil, or tilts his head, or empties out a beaker. wether or not medkit was just a willing victim to her mistreatment, well, he cannot say for certain. regardless, medkit is only focused on the 'now', and the now being his thesis—and, perhaps, the last 6 days he'd spent perfecting it. a brand new method of energy, one that could completely eliminate the need for inphernal labor. a small smirk fell upon his lips as he fantasized about the reactions they'd get, the regret his master would feel for leaving him—maybe the regret subspace would feel for his years of torment. would he, after all this time, finally see medkit for his true potential, as a formidable ally?

through his lamenting, medkit's pencil slips from his hand and tumbles to the floor, clanking against tile before settling at the base of his chair. his boot kicks it around, heel reaching out to grab it again as it rolls put of reach. a sigh escapes from his parted lips, eyelids heavy as he resigns hope on retrieving the item—not that he could really move in his current state anyways. medkit's hand removes itself from under his cheek, reaching for another pen on his desk before resigning back to it's original spot. another day, perhaps.

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Pub: 09 Feb 2026 17:43 UTC

Edit: 09 Feb 2026 20:26 UTC

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