A/N: can you believe I have to reteach myself gas laws for respiratory physiology what the fuck
In retrospect, he shouldn't be surprised that the Guild has a hidden basement.
He also shouldn't be surprised that it has traces of Zeref's magic all over it, because of-fucking-course his Creator played a hand in the formation of this Guild; everything on this goddamn planet ties back to Zeref and Mavis and Fairy Tail. He seems to be the only exception these days.
Shards of amber shatter under his boots as he passes the remains of the massive crystal where Zeref's magic is the most concentrated. Lamy's labs had similar structures, mostly used for the preservation of whatever organism she was tinkering with that week. He scoffs and moves on to the desk behind it. For a Guild that preaches transparency, they've done a wonderful job of hiding their own sordid past. Zeref, human experiments, hidden records, and living demons, all packaged up and stamped away with a colourful tattoo. The only difference between them and Tartaros is that the Magic Council offers insurance for damages incurred by the members.
Mard thumbs through notebooks idly. It's not in a language he's intimately familiar with, but he catches a few key words here and there: Zeref, Mavis, limbo, homeostasis, Ankhseram. He copies down some of those recognizable terms, the fairly innocuous ones, and pockets it for later. He'll have to ask either Freed or Levy to pinpoint the language so he can start to pick apart the journals with a dictionary in hand.
He doesn't sleep much these days, anyways.
A/N: tfw your boss haunts yo new workplace...luv u mard
Pls sirs review
-Eien
