There are a lot of things Kvasir Sigurros used to be.

He was once quite a klutz, as a child-- tripping over his own tail, his fingers always trembling and unwieldy, scalpels and mortars and pestles never fitting correctly in his tiny, shaking hands. Engaged was another, though he doesn't exactly like to think about that one too hard. In particular, in the days before the captured consciousness of a dead-but-not-quite god bled into his own, memories stitched together in some horrifying amalgam of fragmented times and places, he used to be a bit of a skeptic.

It's a bit of an ironic thing to be when magic flows at your fingertips, really, but a little bit of skepticism is always a healthy thing to have, at least in his opinion. Hence why, when he heard rumors of ghost sightings out in the Hauntwood... well, he couldn't resist setting out and looking for himself.

It isn't as if Kvasir denies the existence of ghosts entirely-- certainly not. That would be stupid. There's no shortage of possibilities out in the world, and considering the fact that his own brain is practically inhabited by a ghost? It'd be delusional to close his eye and pretend they weren't there. Still, things like these are case-by-case, and Kvasir would rather verify these things in person rather than brush them off.

So here he is, wandering the marsh, disinterest plain to see on his face as he walks in search of some signs of... something, unaware that he's not quite alone in the Hauntwood on this night-- just... not in the way he expects.

Honestly there's no better place to find ghosts than a place called Hauntwood, is there? Cirice wonders to herself as she wanders through the reeds and underbrush. She long since lost the path and just started walking in a direction vaguely near to where she'd heard the ghosts might be. Surely ghosts move around, right? They move around more easily than she can as her flowy skirts keep getting caught in all the twigs and branches and thorns and her knee-high boots keep getting caught in the ankle deep muck. Such a great adventurer she is, getting stuck on simple vegetation. Getting frustrated she slides off her black elbow length gloves and exposes the strange sigils and runes written all over her blue-grey skin in white body paint. She hold out her hands to the flora thats trapped her and some of the runes begin to glow faintly purple as the same dark purple energy collects in her palms and the plants begin to shrink and shrivel away from her. Almost instantly she's freed and she keeps her hands by her sides, channeling the dark energy around her to clear something of a path for herself. No one will mind her killing a few plants, she hopes, and if they do she can just blame it on the ghost!

Perhaps the slight glow she gives off might even attract the ghost to her she wonders, seeing the glow reflect on the murky water. She doesn't know much about ghosts in the first place, but if they can see in the dark as well as she can they should be able to see the glow of her hands and the markings on her face. The blessing of Lunala allows her to see perfectly in the dark of the night, but she hasn't really found any evidence of activity yet. Her foot gets caught in a puddle as her boot sinks into the muck once again and she sighs. Its going to be a long night.

Gods, Kvasir is truly starting to remember why his visits to the Marsh Flats are so rare.

A surge of annoyance blooms within him as he continues walking through the marsh, a borderline-permanent grimace etched across his features as he tries to navigate through shallow, murky water and the brittle tangle of dry tree roots. The Hauntwood isn't quite as aggravating to maneuver through as some other parts of the Marsh, but it's hardly Kvasir's favorite place to be-- his tail keeps bristling with frustration, carefully suspended high above the muddy water so as to evade getting dirty. By Solaria's Blade, he cannot wait to find a nice inn and dive into a bath with rose oil and liquid pearl so his ears and tail can get a nice break from humid air and the bite of insects and all the other cruelties of nature found so commonly out here.

Ugh. The more he thinks about it, the more he yearns to get out of here. He'll definitely have to splurge a bit on nice oils and the like when he's next in a town.

He sighs to himself, continuing to navigate throughout the Hauntwood in search of signs of those ghosts he's been told to locate, and as he turns past a small cluster of trees, he... pauses, catching sight of the reflection of a faint glow against wood and water. There's no natural cause for it, nearby, few bioluminescent lifeforms nearby-- could it be...?

Kvasir pulls his bow from his back, nocking an arrow and slowly approaching, as if he can really shoot a ghost. But before he gets a chance to entertain that thought, he catches sight of the real source of the glow-- a young woman, skin the same shade as the shadows of the moon, her hair the same brilliant luster as its light, eyes like lavender. She's dressed awfully fancifully for a marsh, but... it isn't as if he's in any place to judge.

"...oh, my apologies. I figured there was a chance you might be a creature of some kind," Kvasir calls out to her, an apologetic edge to his voice as he lowers his bow. Better to extend an olive branch before a misunderstanding can blossom. "I mean no offense, of course, friend-- I'm merely... on guard, I suppose. Either way, I apologize-- my name is Kvasir Sigurros. Who might you be, and... what brings you out to a place like this?"

Finally pulling her boot free with a happy cry a voice calls out to her and she freezes to see the handsome man with fluffy ears and a tail looking at her and lowering his bow. "Ah! Oh hello!" She startled her and she quickly tries to reply, "No no, you've not offended me. It's nice to meet you! I didn't expect to run into anyone else out here. I'm Cirice Lunestra, just a humble cleric of Lunala out looking for ghosts. I'm hoping that if I find them I can lay them to rest with Mother Moon's help."

She offers him a slight curtsey and as she shifts her weight gets her boot stuck again and sighs. "What are you doing out here at night? I haven't seen anyone else out here... Are you lost? I can help you find your way in the darkness if you like. Just let me get out of this muck." She smiles and pulls her boot out with a grunt and looks at him more closely. He's handsome, his hair looks silky and dark as night and he's got some sort of flower on his face covering one of his eyes. He's probably one of the most handsome men she's ever seen and she is instantly overcome with a desire to scratch his ears.

"I've never seen anyone like you before... Would it be rude to want to pet your ears?"

Oh, well, hm.

It's awfully rare that Kvasir meets people who don't hesitate over the topic of his vulpine features; he's been stared at by children in busier streets before, fawned over by clusters of people who think he can't hear them, eyed up by strangers but never spared a word, so on, so forth. People look, but rarely ever ask to touch, which he's grateful for, usually-- he appreciates having his personal space valued, after all. Still, there's an earnest look in this girl's eyes, her voice soft and polite as she asks, and...

Well, there's no harm in letting her. She doesn't seem like she'd be disrespectful or anything.

"Well, Cirice," he starts, glancing her up and down one more time, appraising her as she struggles her way out of the mud, biting his tongue to refrain from offering to help. She seems alright enough, and he doesn't want to come across as overbearing, after all. "It's nice to meet you. You say you're on the lookout for ghosts, friend? That's lucky-- I've been sent out here for a very similar thing, though... I think you've got kinder intentions than I."

Laying lost spirits to rest was certainly a noble cause; this young lady radiated compassion, from the gentle, smooth motions of her slender fingers to the movements of her facial features. Kvasir is hardly one to trust immediately-- in... most cases. Most cases, not all-- but he cannot help but feel relatively at ease in this young lady's presence.

"I suppose foxfolk aren't especially common-- to tell you the truth, Miss Cirice, I'm the only one of my kind outside of my family I know of," Kvasir chuckles quietly, taking a few steps closer. "If you really would like to pet my ears, I... I suppose I can allow that. Not many people ask, so... proceed if you wish."

"I very much wish!"

Pure joy fills Cirice's eyes as she reaches out towards him. As her hand nears his face she suddenly remembers the purple glow and the spell she cast and quickly recoils, shaking her hands out as if to fling the spell away. She then rubs her hands on the cleanest part of her outfit, the frilly shirt part of her dress above the corset, to clean off any muck or dead plants that might be on her. 

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't want to smear any gunk on your beautiful hair!" She reaches up again, leaning in close and gently, hesitantly brushing her fingers against one of his ears. His ear flinches away involuntarily, flicking away from her and making her gasp in surprise. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you! Oh goddess... You're soooo silky and soft... Such beautiful ears..." As his ear calms down and comes back towards her she scratches it gently, feeling his soft silky fur with a happy sigh.

"Foxfolk... I've never even heard of such a wonderful type of person." She says as she pets him with a bright smile, "You and your family must be really special, Kvasir. It's so wonderful to meet you!" She pets him for maybe a little longer than is necessary or proper but he's so cute and she's absolutely entranced by him. After a few moments she steps back, satisfied with this wonderful new experience.

"If we're both looking for the ghosts why don't we go together? I'm pretty handy. I can even help you see in the dark if you like! But what are you looking for them for if not to lay them to rest?" She cocks her head to the side curiously.

It's difficult work, really, fighting off a smile at the way pure jubilation lights up Cirice's face when Kvasir agrees to let her pet his ears; it's sweet seeing that wonder flood over her face, not to mention how quickly she recoils at the possibility of accidentally getting stray bits of dirt or mud in his fur. It's certainly thoughtful, though... he can't help but be intrigued by the slight glow he'd caught a glimpse of against her arms before she pulled it away in a brief bought of panic, but it passes rather quickly as her fingertip brushes against the edge of his ear.

He flinches, involuntarily, instinctively-- he can't help it, no matter how he welcomes the touch. It's foreign and a little strange, but not at all bad. He just has to remind himself to relax, his ears reflexively twitching again as he takes a deep breath.

"No worries, friend," he says simply. He can't help the way his face flushes at the sudden rush of compliments Cirice throws his way as her fingertips find his ears again, the motions smooth and careful and soothing. His eye flutter shut, lashes dark against his cheek, a contented sigh falling from his lips; all things considered, letting another person pet him is actually not that strange of an experience. It's nice, more than anything. A little surge of relaxation in a stressful little marsh. "Ah, well... I'm glad you think so. It's lovely to meet you as well..."

He lets out another happy sigh, some of the tension melting from his shoulders even as Cirice steps back. Maybe he should be more open to letting strangers pet him in the future. Maybe. Possibly. He'll consider it.

"Oh, I appreciate the offer, but I'm rather capable of seeing in the dark myself,"[1] Kvasir says simply. "However... I'm here because I was asked to look into some rumors about said ghosts. Little else. I don't quite know what they expect me to do about them, to be quite honest, but I'd be happy to travel with you, Miss Cirice."

---

[1] Night Vision

Cirice smiles and takes his hand with a delighted squeal. "Wonderful!" She nearly falls over herself in her excitement. "What a blessing to find such a lovely new friend out here. It just goes to show that there is always a light in the darkest places! I have a great idea, let's try to find a settlement nearby and see if they can help give us any information. I heard that the ghosts were bothering the people of a town called Apperton, maybe they can tell us more! I'm pretty sure it's this way... Maybe we can even find an inn and not have to camp out in this muck!"

The two of them pick their way across the difficult, goopy terrain, Cirice wilting the plants in their way until they find the half-submerged road and pick a direction hoping that it's the right way to town. After a few hours of slow traveling they finally see a small cluster of buildings nestled into a sunken valley below them. Lights flicker faintly in the windows of a few of the buildings, an indication of life in the gloomy midnight murk. 

"Look Kvasir! The town!" Cirice bounces down the road a few steps and turns to Kvasir with a a wide grin, "Mother Moon willing there will be an inn!" She bounces down the road happily until a shrill scream splits the night and stops her in her tracks.

For a moment, all Kvasir can do as Cirice takes his hand is blink, staring down at her with surprise at the utter lack of hesitation she expresses when it comes to physical contact-- it really shouldn't be a shock, truly, considering how eagerly she'd asked to pet his ears mere moments after learning his name, but it is all the same.

He's more accustomed to polite hesitation, to some degree of formality, so the way this girl's utter, syrupy joy flows so freely, a veritable cascade of delight and affection, is... refreshing, in a way. Although he'd ordinarily flinch away from the touch of a stranger, he allows Cirice to take his hand with no complaint.

"Ah, well, yes," he says, trying and failing to contain how stunned he is, merely nodding along as she chatters away. Cirice does have a point, though-- as much as Kvasir tends to favor camping, the very last thing he wants to do is have to camp in a marsh. He's hardly vain, but he does take hygiene and self-care rather seriously; if this is going to be a multiple-day venture, he'd prefer to not have to spend it yearning for the bliss of rose oil and geraniums the entire time. "Finding an inn sounds ideal, Miss Cerice. Let's set off."

The hours that follow are relatively peaceful, mercifully-- Kvasir trails along behind Cirice, raising an eyebrow in silence at the way any signs of greenery seem to wither around the girl before him, but he knows better than to ask too many questions of a stranger, so he keeps his mouth shut and lets her chat away, only responding when prompted. He nods along as she excitedly points out the settlement, ready to follow along--

And then there's that scream.

Instantly, he draws his bow, nocking an arrow and adopting a defensive stance, ready in the case of an attacker-- god, he's going to feel so stupid if it's a ghost. Who shoots a ghost?

"...be careful, Miss Cirice. Stay on guard."

"...be careful, Miss Cirice. Stay on guard." Warns Kvasir, drawing his bow and looking ready to defend, but Cirice isn't worried about her own well being. Someone needs help! 

"Kvasir we need to find them and help them! What if someone is hurt??" She looks around for the source of the scream and sees movement in the settlement ahead. "We shouldn't stand around and do nothing. We need to get down there! Look! Someone appears to be fleeing! Come on!" Cirice breaks into a run and starts heading as fast as she can down the hill, nearly tripping and rolling down instead but managing to keep her footing, barely. As she nears the village she hears more terrified voices and sees a few people standing around the town square, one young woman in a nightgown weeping into the arms of another, obviously distraught.

"I can't Edith, I can't! Please let me stay with you tonight. D-don't leave me alone!" The young woman is pleading with the lady she's clinging to with desperation in her voice. The door to a house off the square is hanging open, left ajar in her haste.

"It's alright Evette, calm down." The older woman sounds haggard, petting the younger woman's hair and looking over at some of the other people gathered around for help. The gawkers avoid her gaze and start to trickle back into their homes, leaving the two women and a few others standing in the still night air.

"They're in my house! They won't leave me alone!" Evette shrieks, "What have I done to-to be haunted like this??"

Cirice slows her run, not seeing any danger and straightens herself a little before approaching, not wanting to alarm the women any more than they already are. She looks to see if Kvasir is with her and gives him a look. Seems they've found their ghosts.

"Ah-- Miss Cirice, wait--!"

A quiet sigh leaves Kvasir as he watches Cirice tear off toward the village without so much as a second thought or a weapon in hand, her mind set on one thing and one thing only: rushing to the help of whomever had made that scream, no matter what the situation was. Gods, this strange girl was certainly interesting-- he'd have to put a bit of an extra effort in to keep her from rushing off, it seemed. There's nothing wrong with a generous spirit, but the last thing he wants is for her to endanger herself.

Still, she clearly expects him to follow behind, so he starts off after her, careful to navigate down the hill without falling over his own heels, only slowing down once he's managed to catch up to his newfound companion.

The scene that sets itself before him is not what he expects-- two women in each other's arms, one in the throes of panic, of despair, with clusters of onlookers filtering out as the rightful hysteria continues on. His ears twitch as he listens in, catching fragments of conversation-- desperation not to be alone, desperation to comfort, desperation for an answer--

Ah. Haunted. Ghosts. Right.

As Cirice nods his way, Kvasir just nods in return, returning his arrow and bow to their rightful places as he approaches both of the women, trying to seem as calm and approachable as possible. The last thing he wants to do is cause more unease.

"Pardon me," he begins, holding a hand up. "Is everything quite alright? Did I hear something about a haunting?"

The older woman looks at Kvasir with a tired, long-suffering look, taking him in and considering before speaking, "You're not from around here, stranger. It's none of your concern. She's just a bit tired, aren't you Evette?"

"No, no! Please!" The younger woman flings herself at Kvasir, clinging to his shirt with desperation, tears streaming down her face, "Please believe me, kind sir. There is a ghost in my house, he haunts me every night. I cannot sleep, I cannot rest. Every night he torments me. Please I'll do anything for it to end!" She buries her face against him and weeps, quaking in fear.

"Evette get off the man, you're staining his shirt..." She pulls the girl off Kvasir and sighs.

"We'll help!" Cirice pipes up cheerfully, "No need to fear!"

Evette looks between them with a grateful look. "Thank you!"

"We'll go take a look at your house. Are there ghosts anywhere else?"

"W-well others have said they hear and see things too... Sometimes there are messages left in blood on walls!"

"Blood on walls! Oh goddess!" Cirice tries not to look too excited in the face of an adventure. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Don't you worry."

It takes everything Kvasir has to not flinch as the younger woman-- Evette, it seems?-- flings herself at him, too-thin fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt with equal parts despair and desperation, a not-so-silent plea for comfort. It's unexpected, but... truth be told, he's seen far more explosive displays of emotion from people, been the recipient of more than a couple despondent embraces. So he forces the tension out from between his shoulderblades, moving his arms to lightly wrap around the poor lady, offering a quick pat to her back before the other one-- Edith-- pulls her away.

"It's really no trouble," he says quickly, turning to look at the older woman with sympathy in his eyes, a quiet plea for understanding. "Please, ma'am, you've nothing to worry for. Miss Cirice and I will handle everything as well as we can."

He folds his arms, tapping his gloved fingertips against his forearm as he listens to Cirice and Evette talk, making note of all of the information being exchanged in silence; multiple cases of odd, unexplainable sights and sounds, things as macabre as blood-scrawled messages against the walls... How odd. He hums to himself, turning the information over in his mind-- did ghosts bleed? Were they corporeal enough to interact with human blood? Gods, is he really asking these damned questions...? This feels ridiculous.

"...Miss," he interjects, as politely as possible. "I hate to ask such a morbid question, but... Is there ever any unusual quality to the bloody messages? Anything ethereal? Any specific content?"

"U-unusual?" Evette asks weakly, "E-etheral? I'm not sure... I mean... The messages mentioned... Well they mentioned..." She struggles to get the words out.

"They mentioned her late husband." Edith says quietly. "He died in the swamp. Some of the messages she found mentioned him"

Cirice frowns, "These messages sound personal..."

"It all started once Evette here started being courted by Nelson. It had been a year since her husband died and she's still young. It made sense for her to try to move on. But once she and Nelson started courting the strange things started happening."

"At first it wasn't anything too strange... It was just things moved around in my house. Plates on the table from the cupboards, candles burned down too far in the morning after I was certain I'd blown them out... But then it got more and more intense. It's Madison, haunting me from the grave!" Evette breaks down again, sobbing against Edith.

"Madison never had a violent bone in his body. He would want you to be happy, Vette." Her voice is soft and soothing and she tries to calm the girl down.

"Maybe we can find this ghost and set him to rest. Kvasir and I will go and look around and see what we can do."

As the explanation continues, Kvasir falls back into that contemplative silence once more, his tail swishing back and forth in slow, equally pensive motions. Cirice was right-- this all felt particularly targeted, and for it all to pop up right in the wake of Evette kindling a new relationship...? The timing, combined with the paranormal occurrences blooming into being all around her, made it rather easy to assume that it was all the doing of a wrathful ghost, but...

...something about all of this just... doesn't sit quite right with Kvasir. He isn't sure what it is, but that blossom of skepticism still has deep roots within him, furrowing within his lungs.

"...Yes, of course," he says quietly, nodding at Cirice, but he doesn't lift his head up, that thoughtful look still darkening his expression. He drums his fingertips against his arms a few times more, one of his ears twitching as he sighs to himself. "We... would be happy to investigate and handle this... ghost, Miss Evette. I'm a medic, not an exorcist, but I'm sure Miss Cirice and I can do our very best for you."

He tilts his head back in the direction of the way they'd approached from, giving Cirice a quick look-- a silent indication that he'd like a word with her, just the two of them, if she's willing to give him the time.

"...Cirice. Let's... review what we know so far."