>>5225556‘Welcome back,’ Irinnile greets you. ‘Soooo, spill. How’d it go?’
‘I… I don’t want to talk about it,’ you reply, physically, magically, and emotionally drained.
Henzler, raccoon-eyed from lack of sleep, looks up from where she still labours upon ours and Roth’s offspring inside you with gestures, murmured mysticisms, and frequent consultations of a small pile of scrolls and note-papers kept beside her. She looks briefly alarmed.
“Do you feel pain?” she asks, suddenly. “Where is the pain? Sharp, or dull? I don’t understand, I did everything as I should have… Tehre should be no damage! Is the egg intact?”
“What are you talking about?” you demand sharply. “Calm yourssself, Head Chimierccisst. I am not in any pain.”
Henzler looks puzzled, then, and asks: “Then why are you crying?”
‘Oh, babe,’ Irinnile coos, sympathetic. ‘that bad, huh? It’ll be okay… Get some rest. It’s okay. I’ll run the body for a bit longer.’
You take her up on that, just for a little while, and allow your brain—and your wounded heart—some respite.
A short while later, Henzler has concluded her work. She assures you that, with her modifiucations, your child has now been guaranteed great stature of mind and body, screened for genetic disorders or malformations likely to result from such muddled cross-species heritage, AND per-emptively prepared to defeat a slew of transmissible maladies. She takes some time to document her findings, and the modifications, in one of the growing number of scientific journals she has been compiling about her work on this farm, and her remote work with you on the Dragonborn. Then, citing several papers SHE apparently authored on the subject of the effects of prolonged sleep deprivation on physical and mental longevity and health, she takes her leave for a rest of her own.
