Myrrh and Camphor (Hazbin Hotel + PlagueDoctor!reader

Chapter 1: Arriving

A figure with a black beaked-mask was currently lying flat-faced on the ground. Slowly dragging their head to look up till their chin was against the cobbled floor as they shook their head a bit before opening their eyes, which slowly adjusted to their surroundings.

Around them, well-dressed fiends walked past them, not even sparing a glance in their direction.

The doctor groaned softly, pushing themself up from the ground, now sitting up to get a better view of where they were exactly.

The buildings around them were a familiar architecture. A very red sky, a pentagram plastered on it. When they looked around more, they took notice of a creeky wooden sign with "wilcumian to helleseáþ" written on it.

They could only pause for a few seconds before standing up and dusting their coat before walking away, hoping to find a good tavern.

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After walking aimlessly in what felt like a day's worth, they finally found a tavern.

The inside was filled with different kinds of odd looking 'people', ranging from something resembling citizens to incoherent beings far from anything human or human-like

The doctor stood near the entrance of the tavern, thinking to themself as they realized a problem. Their currency, or more specifically, the lack thereof. The doctor mentally cursed to themself at their memory. If only they had the chance to bring their money to death, they could've bought themself a drink.

Despite that hindrance, they shrugged and just stole a mug out of an oblivious staff's tray— But now that the doctor thought about it, the staff didn't care all that much either way as another took a mug from the tray without a bother infront of the staff, who seemingly also didn't pay.

Carrying the mug of alcohol, they sat on an empty table in the corner of the room, glancing at everybody else every now and again.

It was loud, to say the least. Everyone was talking and yelling, which ranged from chatter between people to banters and insults being thrown left and right.

The doctor slightly swished the mug, still processing their current situation but accepting it better than most people. They brung the mug against their mouth, expecting the bitter taste to hit their tongue; but their mouth wasn't opening like it was stitched shut. The contents of the mug then spilled all over their coat.

The doctor yelped in a short-lived panic before hastily rubbing off any excess alcohol with their sleeve, which didn't really help and just made their sleeve stained with the alcohol.

They sighed in annoyance. Great, they died and couldn't even consume anything— at least not that they now of.

Their time here was getting worse and worse. A headache started to build up in their forehead. In frustration, they banged their head against the wooden table.

While grumbling, the doctor heard footsteps going near them. Peeking an eye out through one of their mask's lenses, they saw someone standing near them.

The doctor remained silent as the other stood quietly, swaying a bit. The two looked at each other before the other took their mug and gulped down the rest of their drink without a word. They only stared at the other in disbelief.

After finishing the drink, the other hiccups before fumbly looking at them, their pupils comically swirling.

"You're new here, aren't you? You reek of the living." The other said, who reeked of alcohol.

The doctor just glared at them. They irked, but the alcoholic— the doctor labelled— was too drunk to notice.

The doctor sat quietly, getting more irritated by the second as the alcoholic then sat beside them and started blabbering whatever nonesense the doctor was too uninterested to even listen, still having their head rest on the table where their ever growing headache grew to an ever growing migraine. They really didn't want to be here, but the alcoholic continued to prattle nonetheless.