He hated rain. Simply because the tiny droplets conspired against him. He wished he was crazy, then that would've made sense, but no. He had to be a logical, educated young man that knows it's rationally impossible to suspect rain would conspire against you, and yet he was always drenched if he went outside into the rainfall! Even if he had an umbrella! The wind just changes the direction of the rain and, low and behold, his trousers get soaked! What the hell, rain, what the hell! On a day as important as this, too!
He climbed up the stairs to the royal palace, the guards and passersby looking warily at the man muttering to himself about rain and conspiracies. As they should.
He also hated the royal audience hall. It's so fucking filled to the brim with grandeur that you could kill a beggar with a heart attack because he was that convinced he didn't belong there. Fucking aristocrats. If only he could fund his research without their help, that'd be such a fucking joyful experience.
He did the common motions of kneeling six paces away from the throne, kissing the ground and muttering the oh so famous lines to ask permission to come and seek audience. Of course it's all in fucking Latin because royalty! If he had known the most he would do with the language was kissing golden asses, he'd probably never have learned it to begin with!
"Come, young scholar, what is your request" The fat king asked, smiling hazily as he drank another swig of cocaine.
Scientist you belligerent addict!
"I have come to request a renewal of my investigations into Alchemy, my Lord."
"Oh yes, the fairy tail my father had you pursue." He gave a laugh, it was like watching jelly being poked "I can't believe it's been two years since his death already, may he rest in peace." He said it with such joy. No wonder everybody thought the new king had the old one killed. The scientist didn't believe that for a second, he was too much of an idiot to pull anything off. If he did, he'd made a point of gloating about it to the wrong people. Can't touch a king. That's what the new king believes at least.
The jelly monster continued "I have decided against funding you, my scholar. It is simply impossible to create intelligent beasts of war with plants" He laughed again, the scientist felt nauseous looking at all that mass jiggle, he had to force himself to keep watching, but no eye contact. That'd make him think that he wasn't a god to mere mortals. Nobody would want to think that tub of lard was human, oh no. Not at all.
He didn't wait until the king finished pissing all over him. He got up and stormed out, listing to the lard laugh, waving the guards off. Who would care of an ant without a next? Well fuck this. Fuck the king. Fuck this entire fucking kingdo-
.........
He woke up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth. Strange, he didn't remember drinking last night, but it's clearly morning. He got up, slowly lest his head explode, and groaned as he rubbed his eyes of particularly crusty, yet brittle sleep. He opened them simply to find someone standing over his bed. He was actually struck at how attractive she was, well until he saw the Devil's Seduction around her neck. Damned flower would make a sheep shag a lion. It helped if you knew that it was because of the flower, sometimes....
"Hello there, Doctor. I see you are a bit out of favour with your lord, would you mind working for us? I assure you, we pay in full in every..." She stepped closer "...single..." she smelled of the sweet, enthralling pheromones "....aspect..."
Oh, they knew how to turn a lonely young man with the need to explore. Funding, women, more research material than he could care to count. Lastly, and most surprisingly, love.
