To Dia, the perfect day began before first light. Specifically, it was right after the “fifth nap.” It was a moment in the early pre-dawn where Mousegirls would wake for their final bout of activity before the sixth and final nap concluded their day cycle. Through trial and error, Dia had discovered that it was at exactly this time when Monica slept the deepest.

It was at this time where a rippling tingle penetrated into her left heel, the alarm spell quietly rousing her into the fuzzy warmth of a shared bed. The room was perfectly dark, isolated from the world in a protective cocoon, only the slow breathing of the other two occupants disturbing the silence.

As with every other perfect day, she began by reclaiming Rick from Monica’s needy embrace. Inch by careful inch, she pried open the claws and gingerly pulled him to lay on his back while she replaced his form with bundled cloth for the feline to snuggle. The skill was one she’d never thought she’d need, but was now infinitely thankful she’d been taught by her seniors during her formative years in Balet.

Successfully excising Rick out of the tangle of fur and limbs, she moved to rest her head upon his shoulder. He barely roused, pulling her closer without a thought and mumbling something in his sleep. Dia preened, kissing his shoulder and moving on to the second part of the morning ritual.

Softly, so as to not disturb him, she placed her hand upon the center of his chest and pushed her power into his body. The nature of her work couldn’t properly follow the strict form of a spell, so she had to improvise, keeping the structure only half-formed. In this way she examined his body, making note of any changes compared to the day prior.

It was only then that she’d steel her feelings and her resolve. With as much scarred tissue both inside and out, Rick was her most delicate patient. As with the past week, today’s focus was upon the left atrium. Barely a millimeter of scar-tissue was removed and healed. Unlike every other case she’d been taught and encountered, the only options available were to work slowly. The process was something she’d created out of necessity; a careful surgical internal wound meant to remove the scar tissue, and allow the flesh to be knitted back together through an equally diminutive burst of healing.

In this way, Rick’s body would not risk elemental saturation, and it would be made to work on its own to accelerate the process. Another month or two, and she’d be able to move on to his liver.

The hardest part of the ordeal was suppressing her urge to march up to Eva and strangle her in her sleep. She chased the thought away as soon as it bubbled up; the Fledgling was her sister now, and any punishment should remain proportional.

Her focus turned back to Rick, fingers dancing against the many scars that marred his torso. She nudged her focus towards the day ahead, absently rousing her human’s body to begin the process of waking up. With a small injection of energy, his adrenal glands increased activity ever so slightly; the receptors in his gut and intestines would similarly stir into the daily routine.

Rick inhaled sharply nearly an hour later, his heartbeat spiking as his body tightened. Dia silenced him with a kiss before he could say anything and disturb the quietness of the room. His hands moved onto her naked skin before he had fully woken up, and she pulled him on top of her, feeling his hardness pressing in exactly the right places. Soon enough, nature took its course and the room was drowned out in soft sighs and moans, her arousal thick in the air as they lazily shared the moment together. There was no rush, only comfort, warmth, and closeness.

Of course, this daily ritual was nothing but her providing palliative care. Rick’s bond to Kiara had left his libido slowly escalating over the past few weeks. It would be truly heinous of her if this were her taking advantage of a patient’s affliction.

“You’ve got some smug on your face,” her lover whispered into her ear, kissing her cheek.

“You can’t see it, so it doesn’t count,” she returned the gesture, hugging him tightly, wanting to prolong the moment forever. But the other occupant of the room was stirring awake with a rather loud yawn. “Better tame the wild beast before she grows impatient.”

On cue, Monica’s large furred paw snatched Rick off her and pulled him into the small-giant’s arms. He barely complained as he turned his attention to the jealous feline. Dia knew better than to stick around and took her leave. “Always look for the positive,” she whispered the mantra. Monica’s affections would no doubt provide Rick with a more thorough physical exertion. If he didn’t have any plans for the day, it could even become a full workout.

Also, Kiara’s whores would no doubt come knocking sooner or later. As Dia’s mother had once wisely said, a bad sister was like a feralborn Doggirl. They could be dependable to sound an alarm or fight, but always keep your fingers out of reach lest they be bitten off.

Only fate knew what sort of chaos might crop up with the festival right around the corner.

With a swift and thorough spell of cleansing, she summoned a dim magelight and made her way upstairs. The house was still dark, still sleepy, and at peace. Were this the medical center, Dia would’ve started up by banging some pots and making some noise, maybe startle the restless blood-sucker upstairs, or maybe get the green giant riled up. But there was no need for either, so she began cooking breakfast with a jovial little tune Rick had been humming as of late.

Hot porridge, cooked apple slices, some almond cheese, some mead, and a half-mug of grape juice. Of it all, the juice had been a rather lucky find a few days back. There was an Everspring maiden whose husband had cracked his hip, and who’d been more than happy to share the grapes she’d grown in her garden as thanks for the healing.

Heavy footfalls alerted her to her newest sister having woken up. Urtha’s steps were as subtle as dropping rocks down the stairs, the Orc clumsily making her way through steps that were no doubt uncomfortably small for someone of her proportions. “Mornin’,” she grumbled, voice thick with sleep as she hunched over to cross through the door.

As soon as she stepped into the common room she made the mistake of stretching out to her full height. With a thump against the solid wood, the maiden growled at the dent she’d made against the beam.

“Rick’s looking into the remodeling.” Dia didn’t miss a beat to remind her before she could complain, putting together a plate of mostly hearty porridge for the green maiden. Out of all the inhabitants of the house, Urtha was the easiest to feed. If it was sunny enough, the maiden barely needed to eat at all, but with the weather as it had been as of late, she’d mostly just shovel whatever was put in front of her. “Eat up, you’re going to need the energy.”

Sitting on the floor and leaning against the table, the maiden pulled at her tusks for a moment, meaty finger poking at the pointy end. “Tribe’s been griping about all the clouds again. Some want to request the Father to have the Neigix clear it up.”

"What, is he their caretaker now? Beside, there’s a limit to how much those poor Neigix can do, the city would need fifty times the flock." Dia clucked in disapproval, gently rapping the Orc’s knuckles with her wooden ladle. "The council is scheduled to meet shortly after lunch, don’t forget it."

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"Ugh," was the only sound that made its way through her lips as she slurped the contents of the bowl. With a gesture, she demanded another, focused on finishing the meal as quickly as possible before finally putting down the wooden bowl. "The tribe will fight him every step of the way. It doesn't make sense!"

"No arguing before the meeting, you promised," Dia kept her tone firm, pointing the ladle threateningly. "Once you're done, go find Eva and remind her to get her breakfast."

Urtha chuckled. "She showed me the thing you wanted her to wear." The laughter was a low rumble that made the table vibrate. "How in the world did you convince her?"

"I didn't," she replied, her gaze flicking to the stairs leading to the basement. "Now keep quiet, Rick's not supposed to know. Say a word, and there will be consequences."

"Don't worry, they're still going at it." The Orc tapped a naked foot against the floor. "It's a surprise the house isn't shaking."

Still? Dia made a mental note to focus on tomorrow's check-up on Rick's muscles and lungs. Perhaps he was doing more exercise than she'd expected. "So long as he still thinks Eva's trying to put some distance, then the better."

"You enjoy playing with other's lives too much."

The Rapha straightened herself out and glared. "I happen to enjoy a good romance. Especially if I get to tease Eva about it till the end of times." Her brow furrowed. "Besides, would you rather Rick get used to sleeping with anything that drops at his feet?"

The Orc considered her words for a moment, leaning back against the chair, the wood groaning in complaint. Yellowed eyes turned up to the wooden beams overhead. "I guess I do owe you one or two favors." She glanced at Dia. "If you feel anyone's becoming too annoying, I can crush them."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Though she appreciated the gesture, she knew that anything that ended up in blows would have become a lost cause. As tempting as the idea was, Rick had shown open distaste for the more physical approaches to correcting behavior. It made dealing with feral-born girls far trickier; sometimes, someone needed a good whack to quickly learn where the boundaries were. "Focus on the positives," she silently whispered to herself as she took a long sip of the grape juice.

Rick’s more peaceful methods had drawbacks, but they were effective in their own way. His ways were kinder, and that made loyalty easier to earn. But most importantly of all, his style of governance put some severe restraints on what Kiara was allowed to get away with. And it wasn’t as if the Succubus’ own fake humanity didn't have its uses; her presence as a fake lady made for a powerful ward against humans looking to grab the city Lord’s attention. But the best part was that she was an immortal maiden.

Maidens could only become pregnant through parthenogenesis, birthing another maiden. For a maiden to bear a human child, they had to first become old enough to reach their second puberty. Only when one became a matron could their body be fertile to human seed. Immortal maidens could not age, thus the only immortal matrons were those that had ascended into an ageless breed once they’d been old enough.

Dia was the best candidate for becoming the mother to a child that shared Rick’s flesh and blood. She was older than both Urtha and Monica, and Eva was a fledgling, meaning she could eventually become either a Ghoul or a Vampire, both ageless breeds. So long as things stayed the course, she’d become Rick’s true Lady.

She began humming again as she pulled the meals away from the fire.

A tingle up her left foot warned her that sunrise was right around the corner. “I have to leave,” she glanced over at Urtha. “Rick’s going to be teaching some classes. Remember to get Monica to sit near the front so she doesn’t cause a mess.”

“What?”

“Sir Rollo is obligated to have his experts meet with the public and answer questions. Rick is planning on expanding that into a more proper teaching environment, one he will be taking part in.” She glanced at the Orc with a glare. “Don’t tell me you-?”

“It’s not that,” came the response. “I meant about the Chieftess.”

“She will want Rick to teach her new words, but she can’t do that with her claws as they are.” Dia hid the grimace as she spoke. “Keeping her near the front of the crowd will make it easier for Rick to placate her if she gets frustrated.”

The Orc shook her head. “Sure.”

“Look, I don’t like this either,” she snapped. “But you have to focus on the positive. This injury gives you the perfect chance to show her she can rely on the tribe.”

That had been the right choice of words. Urtha’s dismissive expression had become thoughtful. “I’ll do what I can for the Chieftess,” she declared, her tone far more serious.

“Good.”

The change of tune was worth noting, but ultimately kept to the back of her mind. Could she possibly get the Orc to lend a hand in the day-to-day chores if she presented it properly? As things stood, Eva was the one doing the bulk of the housework since she was the only one who spent most of her day at home. She'd only venture outside when Rick was home, mostly to avoid a potential accidental meeting.

Hopefully, the Fledgling's tune would change after the festival.

Stepping outside, she summoned a small light and made her way through the city.

A new day had begun, but the heavy clouds cloaking the city promised to extend the darkness for a while longer. The streets were showing some activity; the nocturnal maidens were making their way back home, while those early to rise were stirring.

Her first stop was the former Hunter's building, a fortified house that was halfway between Rick's current humble home and the thick, reinforced walls of the Lord's estate. It had been repurposed, now serving as the household for Kiara and her ilk. She would've avoided the place entirely, but a patient was a patient.

With a sharp knock, the door creaked open, Eli greeting her arrival.

The Hound had seen better days. Exhaustion oozed out of her every pore. The black-haired maiden looked down at Dia with dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. “Good day, Miss Dia,” she spoke with a cordial tone that drawled on.

“Sleep well?” she replied, with a punctuated pep to her tone. “Any changes to the Lady?”

As if to answer her question, she caught the sound of moans drifting inside. Eli shuddered in response, glancing over her shoulder for a moment before turning her attention back to the healer. “The Lady is still… feeding. She has yet to say anything coherent.” Her ears flattened against her head, her smile showing canines. “Would you want to go inside and check?”

Now it was Dia who shuddered. “I'd rather not expose myself to that particular maelstrom again.”

Dia's memory echoed with the events of Kiara's recovery. Following her coma, Kiara had awoken with a desperate, gnawing hunger for energy. Dia had found herself the unfortunate focus of the unresponsive Succubus' attention. By the time she’d been rescued, a whole day had passed, and the healer had needed the sort of baths that took a whole day before she could feel clean again.

“So long as she's taking in fluids, this is likely a step toward recovery.” With an apologetic smile, she shook her head. “I can’t be sure how long it’ll take, but I doubt it should be much longer before she’s verbally lashing out at everyone again.”

Eli made an effort to chuckle at her comment. “That is our hope,” she agreed, bowing slightly. “If there’s nothing more, I need sleep. My next shift starts at noon.” There was barely a hint of a flush at the admission, followed by a second shudder.

“Don’t go and become a patient yourself. Make sure to rest as much as you need.”

“Mhm.”

She made a move to close the door, but Dia’s hand slammed against the reinforced wood. “And do be sure to send word when she’s fully awake. The Lord wants to speak to her before she has a chance to run off and start anything.”

“Sure.”

The door slammed shut.

Dia’s jaw tightened, eyes glaring holes into the wood for a moment. Eli had been trying to cozy up to Rick but explicitly doing so through everyone other than her. As far as declarations of intent went, it was a pretty loud one.

“One problem at a time,” she muttered, turning to her next destination on her morning round.