Not that Fysarius had ever been very active outside of the house to begin with, besides what he'd deemed as 'required': scattered training jaunts with other Vanguardians, a few hours on select weekdays to attend classes, collection excursions perhaps once a week. Sometimes to the park, sometimes to the natural history museum. The university had a surprisingly diverse collection, and it was even more surprisingly uncomplicated to gain a professor's approval to loan out study specimens to biology labs.
He wasn't complaining about it. It was just his perception of humans was that they jealously coveted all of their possessions and to be allowed to 'loan' anything out was a direct contradiction to what Fysarius considered a main component of the population's personality.
Regardless, he'd gotten the samples he was interested in from the lab, returned the specimens, and shut himself up in his room for the better part of four days. Ny kept him company often enough, offering company and assistance to the best of her abilities, but she didn't thrive in seclusion and had her own interests to tend to, besides his companionship. She was still the only one Fysarius expected would disturb him. He'd kind of... not had as much luck with anyone else.
He sat at his desk, fingers typing rapidly at the backlit screen of his keyboard. A thin strip of light peeked through the curtains, but besides that and the computer screen, it was only darkness, mostly obscuring the unkempt state of his room.
This just seemed more important-
Or it was tedious and mind-numbing enough to stave off thoughts of anything else. If Fysarius was working on this, working on his genome sequencing project, then he wasn't thinking about the bleak outlook or how likely he was to upset or hurt anyone who tried to talk to him. And the project was probably useless. He was one Velencian. He didn't know how long it would take to extract the portions of DNA he wanted, design, cultivate, actually produce a creature- a monster- that could offer any service.
But it was this or nothing, he supposed. The least he could do was put up some veneer of progress toward going home.
The Space Cauldron
Backdated to end of July.
