#remilefanfic

[hatterflii]

Historically inaccurate platonic Remile fanfiction

Hello! Thought I might post this, since it’s pretty old. Times were hard. Emil was constantly working, blessing souls that were far gone and praying for those who barely had any hope of survival. As a priest, it was his job to cure the abundance of sick townspeople, and today was no exception. Today, similar to the days before, Emil was to sit in the warm hospital and watch as the ill lumbered in from the cold outside, each with the same problem and the same needs, all wanting something different. He would always put on a warm smile and help them the way he knew how, feed them a brew of strong herbs, ask his lord to have mercy on their poor soul, and when it came to it, he would have to do his least favourite part of his job, let out their impure blood with a blade. The same routine went on for hours, uttering words to the lord until his throat was sore, burning his fingers making tea, comforting dreary peasants, and grimacing as he had to dig at their skin and watch as the blood drained into a pewter bowl. When the sun started its colourful decline, Emil decided it was time to sort and pack up his supplies. As he packed, the sky turned a devil red and the sun slunk down to the hills, ending another tiring day. Before Emil had finished, a tall man in a cobble grey cloak hobbled in, head down, smelling of sickness and mould. His dark hair was slicked to his sweaty forehead, breathing ragged. As the figure limped up to him, he could hear a deep rasping voice. “You, are you the doctor?” The man spoke, lifting his blank stare to meet Emil’s concerned eyes. The priest hesitated. He was supposed to pack up at this time, but the young man looked so helpless, shaking with every uneven breath he took. “Well?” He rasped, “I didn't walk all the way over here for nothing, did I? Wheres the doctor?” Emil stared up at the man, then spoke in a soft voice, “I am a doctor, Do you need my assistance?” “What does it look like! Do you think I wobbled in here just to say hi? Help me!” the man plopped himself onto one of the spare beds, resting his sweat-drenched head on a feather filled pillow. Emil looked down upon the man with an uncomfortable gaze, a small frown tugging at his lips. “I was about to pack up,” He replied, “Maybe you could come back tomorrow when we are open. I would be happy to treat you then.” The man scoffed, “Do I look like I could last another day? C’mon, you’ve got to help me, my head feels like it's bashed in, and all my limbs are on fire. Help me. Please.” His voice lowered to a pleading whisper, salty tears forming in the corners of his bloodshot eyes. Emil gave way to the dramatic man with a sigh, taking a few bottles and jars from the cupboards. As he took out the various herbs and books, he went through the usual questions. “What name do you use?” “Remy, its… its a family name.” He gulped as Emil placed down the last of his supplies, a red-stained bloodletting knife. “Well, Remy, how long have you been feeling ‘like your head has been bashed in’?” The man in question pondered for a moment, clicking his tongue in thought. “‘ ’Bout a week? Maybe more. To be honest, I've started to lose track of time, being cooped up inside day and night.” Emil let out a surprised sound, turning to look at Remy’s tired face. “How did you get here? You should barely be able to speak, let alone walk all the way out here!” remy scoffed, smile playing on his chapped mouth, “Well im not the doctor here, you'd be the best person to answer that.” He didnt wait for the doctor to answer, “I walked, It took ages. Nobody wanted to help a sick peasant, one look at me and they're sprinting to the other side of the path.” Emil started piling up the necessary components, grimacing as he held the various dead animals, some parts missing from their limp bodies. He grabbed a bottle of brown liquid, gently tossing it onto the cot Remy occupied, along with an onion and a few mystery plants.

going to post part 2 soon.