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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Nov 29, 2022 0:41:47 GMT -5
It's easy to forget how much you love a place when you avoid it for so long.
Some might call it tiring, the Zeinav Desert-- the sprawling, endless valleys of pale sand, the unforgiving glare of the incandescent sun, the dry and arid air that stretches for miles, brutal and blistering and bright as a living flame, one that threatens to consume any who aren't careful enough as they cross it. It's certainly not kind to anyone who doesn't prepare properly to traverse it, but there's an incomparable beauty to it, he'd say-- a beauty to how deeply you have to know it to thrive within it beyond the city, a beauty to how well you have to live in it to love it. And oh, does he know it; oh, does he love it.
One man's hell is another's heaven, and Kvasir can only ever call Zeinav home.
He muffles a quiet yawn behind his hand as he wanders the streets of the High Market, herb-satchel held close against his body-- it's late-morning, approaching noon, and he's only just returned to the city from an early-morning fruit hunt on the outskirts of the city, seeking out some berries for a specific kind of poultice he's been needing to keep in high supply. In truth, he's... been dreading a visit out here for some time-- he always does, always dreads coming back to the place he can't resist returning to, to the place that sends relief and nostalgia washing over him like a wave over the shore. Kvasir isn't sure what scares him more, really-- if it's the possibility of Kasra's memories gaining too much strength in the place of their origin, or the possibility of running into--
Well. Perhaps it's a mix of both.
He yawns again, exhaustion threatening to creep over him. Goodness, he should go looking for some tea-- black, with cardamom, saffron, and rose... Ah, that sounds divine about now, actually. He can feel his tail involuntarily wagging behind him at the mere thought of it; oh, he really has missed this place far too much, hasn't he?
Kvasir pauses for a moment, glancing around before his attention lands on a small cafe of sorts nestled away between two buildings. Hell, why not?-- he can take some time for a quick drink before he sets about the rest of his day. Adjusting the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, he slips through the door of the cafe, humming softly to himself as he heads toward the promise of tea and comfort, senses too dulled from exhaustion to catch the sight of anything-- or anyone-- familiar in the moment.
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Nov 29, 2022 16:15:23 GMT -5
“Step right up, ladies, gentlemen, and all things in between! For a limited time only, you too can be the owner of a magical dragon repellant, designed and brewed by the Great Wizard of the Wastes!”The boisterous call through Zeinav’s high market came from a cloth-covered wagon parked in between a couple of nondescript stalls. The vehicle itself stood out like a sore thumb, adorned in all manner of colorful fabrics, flags, bells, and whistles, looking more fitting for a circus performer than a great and powerful wizard. On the side of the wagon, right under the patchwork insignia that represented the Wizard, was a banner that read: MORRIGAN MOONWEAVER’S WAGON OF WONDERS The charlatan themselves was currently standing in front of the back tent flaps, a wooden crate of crystalline vials near their feet. They paced back and forth, waving their arms and projecting their voice and making a general fool out of themselves in an attempt to drum up clientele. A few locals were interested, mostly those who had heard of the wizard’s reputation as a household name, but they’d had no interested biters so far, despite spending hours standing under the blazing sun peddling their wares. They were nothing if not dedicated, and all for a few solars that jingled pitifully in their pocket. As yet another local turned her nose up at Morrigan’s wares, they sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “This is humiliating.” One didn’t put so much time and effort into preparing cheap, fake rosewater into bottles to peddle it off as a miracle potion for only a couple of coins! It didn’t look like they would be getting much more business for the day, so Morrigan leaned over and scooped up their crate, pushing open the flap of their wagon and poking their head inside, petulantly setting the crate down. “Bubbles, be a dear and watch the wagon for me, will you?”The tiny little kobold that was currently engaged playing with a little glass trinket, swinging their legs in the air, snapped up at the mention of their name. Bubbles was not their real name, but Morrigan could not reproduce the sounds of the draconic language, and Bubbles was adorable, so that was the nickname they had settled on. They gave Morrigan a toothy smile and waved their little clawed hands in the air. “Yes, yes, Master Moonweaver!”
Morrigan snapped and winked at their little follower. “Good! I’m off to get some tea!” The dangers of leaving a bright and colorful wagon full of expensive things to a little kiddo was probably not the most sane idea, but in all honesty Bubbles was probably more responsible than Morrigan. They closed the flap and practically skipped down the block to their regular tea shop, the smell of spices lingering in the air already doing wonders to improve their foul mood. They threw the doors open, breathing in the comforting scent of tea and sweets as they scanned the crowded place. That was when they spotted a wonderfully familiar figure turned away from them where he sat in a chair, long dark hair tied up and cloak partially draped over his chair in an attempt to beat the heat, and Morrigan’s day became exponentially better. What was he doing here? Morrigan distinctly remembered that Kvasir had expressed a discomfort with returning to Zeinav’s borders, though Morrigan would not complain at this fortunate circumstance. Seeing Kvasir again was like a ray of light after Morrigan's otherwise dark and stormy day. A coy smile grew on their lips as they made their way over to the chair, carefully keeping themselves out of Kvasir Sigurros’s line of sight. Once they were closer, with jubilant laughter, they threw their arms over Kvasir’s shoulders, placing their hands over his eyes and proclaiming, “Guess who?”
1 NPC minion in this thread: Bubbles
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Nov 29, 2022 17:04:02 GMT -5
Gods, Kvasir is never going to leave Zeinav City again.
It's an exaggeration, truly, and not even a remote possibility-- half of one's work as a traveling medic is the actual traveling--, but oh, the simple, nostalgic taste of almond cookies and saffron almost feel like enough to make him push aside the deep pain that the desert stirs up within him, enough to make him want to settle here and wonder why he ever ran away to begin with. It's a fine showing of internal melodrama, but he'll allow himself a moment of it, all for the sake of the things he can't carry with him across a continent as he travels and forages and travels and forages some more. Cardamom, almond, and rose are worth the moment of overly dramatic internal monologuing.
His cloak lies abandoned, hanging idly on the back of his chair, his tail lazily swishing back and forth in leisurely movements as he leans forward over the table, practically purring with quiet delight as he takes another sip of his tea. It's easy to lose himself in a moment like this, one of pure relaxation, surrounded by old comforts and gentle familiarities, wrapped up in the warmth and aromas of a place he loved and still loves so deeply--
And then there's darkness falling over his eye, and Kvasir's body goes rigid.
"What--?!"
His glass clatters as he nearly drops it against the saucer, already poised to swing if need be, stiffness splitting through his body like a livewire--
Wait.
That voice.
Oh, he'd know that voice anywhere-- honeyed, sweet, mirthful, a sonorous bell that rung out pretty, pretty words, the sound of laughter carrying beneath it. It's been a little while since Kvasir has last heard it, sure, but once the initial rush of panic passes, he merely lets out a soft chuckle, the tension melting from between his shoulder-blades as he relaxes back into his chair, no longer trying to fend off an unseen assailant.
The very last thing he wishes to do is chase off starlight incarnate, after all.
"...ah, forgive me-- you startled me for a moment," he starts as he lifts a hand to gently pluck Morrigan's away from his seeing eye, tilting his head back to look at them, flashing his teeth in a bright smile. "If it isn't my favorite enchanter, diviner, detective, and displacer beast-slayer supreme, Morrigan Moonweaver. How are you doing, friend?"
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Nov 29, 2022 18:54:14 GMT -5
Kvasir stiffened, immediately going on attack mode as he let out a little squeak more akin to a mouse than a fox. He immediately moved to attack Morrigan with his cup- which would have been more than deserved- before he recognized who had surprised him, and relaxed, letting out a soft laugh as he moved Morrigan’s hand and flashed them a dazzling smile.
“And if it isn’t Medic Kvasir Sigurros- healer, doctor, expert marksman, and camper?” They did not make any attempt at first to move away, still partially perched on Kvasir’s shoulders. “Better now that Solaria has blessed me with the opportunity to gaze upon one of his most rare and beautiful flowers.” They said, concealing their happiness at the chance meeting under layers of prose and compliments. “Imagine my surprise when I wander into one of my favorite shops in search of a drink and I find one of my favorite travel companions? What brings you so far from Moonglade, friend of mine?”
It was with great reluctance that they pulled themselves away from Kvasir, sauntering over to the other empty seat at the table. A waitress recognized them as a regular, and immediately started preparing their regular- cardamom tea and jasmine and honey biscuits. They gestured to Kvasir, letting the waitress know that the price of their companion’s meal would be put on their tab. That tab was… hefty, and had yet to be paid off, but that was more from Morrigan’s propensity to spend all their money on whatever suited their whimsy than an actual lack of funds.
Order acquired, Morrigan returned their attention to more important matters. “I assume that you are in the country’s borders on official healer business?” They asked with a wink. Kvasir was one of those rare souls that possessed a seemingly-endless unbridled generosity in his love for his craft, perhaps one of the only that Morrigan had met. In comparison to the charlatan’s selfish attitude, one might compare Kvasir to a saint. That was one of the things that Morrigan enjoyed about him, though. “Hopefully you’ll be around for a while. It’s been far too long since our herb hunt.”
Secretly, they hoped that Kvasir would be in town for long enough to catch up. Their mind was already reeling with possibilities, elated at the prospect of showing Kvasir their hometown. Of course, Kvasir was as equally a native of Zeinav as he was of Moonglade, but Morrigan could show him new sights, their own haunts and favorite spots, the best places to stargaze and the tallest towers to watch the city from.
But they were getting ahead of themselves. That could come later after shared drinks, assuming that Kvasir would not simply be heading off in search of new adventures and people to help the next morning. But Kvasir had shown them Moonglade, and Morrigan wanted to repay the favor with their own beloved city.
"Either way, it is pleasure to see you, and good luck that you picked a spot so close to my place of business."
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Nov 29, 2022 19:29:50 GMT -5
Oh, dear Solaria-- hardly a minute in and Morrigan already has him blushing.
Color rises to Kvasir's cheeks, warmth spreading over his face, but the embarrassment is sweet, delightful, if anything-- the kind that settles comfortably in his ribs, sets his heart fluttering with all the speed of a hummingbird's wings, but the brush of phantasmal feathers feels wonderfully gentle. It's subtle, but the persistent wagging of his tail picks up its pace, comparable to that of an excited dog-- especially as Morrigan lingers over him, their arms still partially draped over his shoulders, comfortably and easily, as if it's natural for them to be there.
"Ah, the same as ever, dearest Morrigan," he purrs, silently lamenting the fact that he can't quite offer a wink for them, a fair exchange of flirtatious gestures and words fitting for a greeting. Ah, the difficulties of only having one eye on display-- if only he didn't have to keep the other one covered... "I'm delighted to hear you're doing so well-- you've certainly brightened my morning, as well."
The joy already settled on Kvasir's face blooms like a morning glory in the dawn as Morrigan easily settles into the other chair at the table, a clear sign that they intend to stay and chat for a while. Good-- this is the best possible way this morning could have gone, the best possible person he could've run into within the city. He can feel every last trace of sleepiness left from early herb-hunting melt away like ice in one quick, fluid movement, his joy as radiant as the sun and warm enough to match.
"You could say that," he starts, taking another sip of his tea before setting the glass back down, idly tapping his fingertips against the tabletop. "I had a few specific fruits and the like to look for, but... I've made arrangements to stay around for quite a while. It's been a while since I've been here, after all-- there's been a fair bit of change since the last time I stepped foot in this city."
A low, but pleased hum drifts from Kvasir's lips as he smiles over at Morrigan, green eye gleaming all the while.
"It's a delight to run into you here, truly. I'm happy we happened to cross paths-- my day is free if yours is, my dear enchanter."
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Nov 29, 2022 20:24:28 GMT -5
It was a joy to see Kvasir’s face turn red at Morrigan’s compliments, and even more exciting to hear that he would be, in fact, staying in the city for more than just a brief visit. A hunt for rare plants brought back memories of their own encounter in Moonglade, in which Morrigan had been mauled by a vicious harpy. That shirt had been mended with careful stitching in the back of Morrigan’s wagon after the fact, but had never felt quite the same since.
“Fruits, hmm? What kind? If it’s native to Zeinav I probably have some of it in my wagon.” They generally kept most of their stock in the back, which was where they concocted most of their elixirs- the real ones, which they kept in stock for themselves- during their free time. “If you’re amenable, we could pop by and I could see if I have anything that might interest you.” Their tail flicked behind them in interest as Kvasir mentioned his plans.
“Yes, the city has experienced quite a bit of growth over the past few years… as has the political unrest.” There was a sour note at the end of that statement, an undercurrent of worry for their home city that they immediately shoved away. Now was not the time to dwell on such things, especially when Kvasir offered up his day to spend together.
“My schedule was, before this very moment, woefully empty.” They pressed their hand to their forehead with more than a touch of dramatism. “The market has been dreadfully dry this morning- lo and behold, I haven’t been able to attract a single customer.”
They would not tell Kvasir exactly what it is they were peddling, of course. Kvasir Sigurros may have had an inkling that Morrigan was not exactly the upstanding member of society that they painted themselves as, but Morrigan found that they did not want him to know exactly how deep their lies ran, if only to hear Kvasir call them enchanter with such open trust and fondness once more. Yes, better for everyone if Kvasir continued to believe that particular lie.
Their tea and biscuits soon arrived, and they took a long sip, savoring the flavor of the rich spices on their tongue. “But if you are amenable, I would be more than happy to show you around the market and see where the day takes us. I believe there may even be a few traveling performers about- dancers, animal tamers, fortune tellers, the like. None better than me, of course, but plenty of sights to see.”
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Nov 29, 2022 20:59:54 GMT -5
"It's a kind of berry found by the waterside outside the city," Kvasir starts, drumming his fingertips against the table once more. "Vaha Fruit, I think they call it-- they grow underwater. Pairs beautifully with a rather ordinary wildflower from the Lantern Light Wood to make a rather effective poultice, as well as having quite a few other medicinal uses. I found quite a few, but I'd love to stop by that wagon of yours, if you'll have me-- I'd compensate appropriately, of course."
Kvasir offers another little smile before taking a sip of his tea, pausing to listen as Morrigan's voice takes on a bitter edge for the briefest moment-- it's difficult to forget, even as it's carried off with that expected touch of theatrics as they continue speaking. Hm.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear you've had such a difficult morning," he says somberly, his voice taking on a solemn edge. Kvasir has never had the stage presence for something like business-- he has vague memories of hiding behind a man he's fairly certain was his father in the busy streets of Eclipse City when he was little, when the both of them had to travel to see patients or to pick up certain orders. He can hardly imagine fighting for attention within a market. "And I'm... even sorrier to hear that Zeinav has grown so tumultuous in my absence."
He falls silent for a moment, the sympathy in his expression cresting into full worry-- what manner of unrest, he wonders..? And what does that mean for the nomadic tribes out on the White Sand Sea...? He... cannot help but wonder, even out here in the city, far from the old familiarity of traveling through the sand.
Kvasir hums beneath his breath, a quiet, familiar melody, just to smooth out his frayed nerves. It hardly seems the time for such bitter thoughts, or such somber conversation-- this is a time for smiles, considering it's time he gets to spend with Morrigan. Some of the unease leaves his expression as Morrigan's order comes to the table, his nose twitching as another familiar scent fills the air. Ah, jasmine and cardamom-- how lovely to see that Morrigan has such good taste in tea themselves.
"Of course," he says, eye twinkling at the prospect of getting to spend a nice day just drinking in all the familiar and new sights the city had to offer, all with Morrigan by his side. There's hardly a better way to spend the day, after all-- certainly better than trekking around alone or napping in his inn room for half of the day just to stave off any idleness. "None outshine you, Morrigan Moonweaver, but I'd be happy to see what sights the market has to offer anyway, if you're willing to be my guide."
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Nov 30, 2022 12:51:51 GMT -5
“Vaha Fruit?” Morrigan tried to think back to the stock they had on hand. They didn’t often utilize that particular component often, but it made for a good enough snack, so they should have had some on hand, unless Bubbles had gotten their little claws in it and eaten it all. “I’ll take a look and see what I can do. Free of charge, of course.” They responded with another wink. “If you will not accept my money for healing then I will not accept any for sharing my wares.”
They waved Kvasir’s concerns away. “Do not worry about it, friend. No place is truly without struggle, and your return to Zeinav should be filled with its pleasures, not its troubles.” Morrigan themselves only kept an ear out for any comings and goings to report back to Lady Kamille, along with whatever other odd jobs suited the witch’s fancy.
Kvasir’s humming brought the mood up, though, and Morrigan ate another biscuit while they listened to the wistful tune. “Oh? I was not aware that music was one of your many talents.” They were only partially teasing, though mostly curious about the song Kvasir was humming. It was not one they’d heard before. “I bet between the two of us we could give any performers on the streets a run for their money.”
While the comment had been said in jest, it did conjure up an amusing image of what it would look like if the two of them were to give it a go on the streets of Zeinav’s high market. “But if you would allow this humble wizard to act as a guide, then I would be more than happy to oblige. We can stop by my wagon first, and then I will show you all that Zeinav has to offer.”
They finished up their tea, the faint scent of spices lingering on their tongue.
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Nov 30, 2022 13:07:04 GMT -5
Oh, there it is again-- fondness quickly blossoms in Kvasir's eye at Morrigan's insistence that anything they'd offer would be free of charge, another, tinier smile pulling at the corners of his lips. This one is shier, almost, but no less happy; it's just... gods, Kvasir had nearly forgotten what it was like to have someone out there in the world who liked his company. Someone who would set aside time for him, who said things that held such sweet implications as "my day is better for having you in it," however unspoken the true words were. Someone who'd stop and take the time to spend their day with him, and not out of obligation, or for work, but because they wanted to.
It's... it's nice. He's missed that kind of feeling. Even if he and Morrigan have only had the one encounter, a shared near-death experience tends to make you feel as though you've known one another far longer, and the camping trip and walk back to Eclipse City had still given them plenty of additional time to spend together. It's nice to know that when he'd scribbled his notes down later that night, his usual desperate mantra plus one additional line-- "and Morrigan Moonweaver is my friend"-- that perhaps it had been a mutual feeling.
"You're too kind," he finally says, pausing to pick up half of one of his almond cookies and popping it into his mouth, taking the time to polish it off. "Ah... so stubborn. I suppose you have a point, though... every nation does have its struggles."
Kvasir shakes his head to himself, but even that is done with fondness, with a smile.
"A-Ah, well, I'm hardly any sort of musician-- it's just something to fill the silence while I work," he says with a shrug, waving a hand in the air, a bit more flustered about the sort-of-compliment than he'd admit. "Though, sharing a stage with you? Mm, I think you'd outshine me in no time. The moon gets its light from the sun, friend."
He chuckles beneath his breath before lifting up his tea glass and finishing the last of it off, sighing contentedly at the lingering taste of rose. Oh, he's going to lose so many Solars coming back here over and over again before he leaves-- he has missed that tea blend.
"That sounds lovely to me, Morrigan Moonweaver. If you'd like to lead the way, then, once we're both ready?"
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Nov 30, 2022 14:29:02 GMT -5
“And yet, both coexist in the same sky.” Morrigan said, eating another one of the biscuits before shoving the rest in their pockets as a snack for later. Now that Kvasir had finished his own tea, Morrigan would not waste any time whisking him away to the colorful stalls of the high market. They were far too excited to waste the day. “Then we shall set out at once! My wagon is not too far from here.”
They motioned for Kvasir to follow, practically skipping through the crowded streets. Difficult to miss amongst the sea of people in their bright colors and clothes despite their lack of height. True to their word, Morrigan’s wagon was right where they’d left it, miraculously unburnt, which meant that Bubbles had done a good job of watching the place.
“You’ll get to meet my apprentice! They’re a bit excitable but I think you’ll like him.” Morrigan chirped as they hoisted themselves up the wagon before turning around and extending a hand to help Kvasir up in turn, a playful, inviting smile on their lips, hand out expectantly. “Well? Are you coming in?”
Kvasir did not hesitate to grab their hand, and Morrigan pulled him inside with joyous laughter.
The inside of the tent was barely big enough for Kvasir to stand tall, with the tips of his ears brushing against the tarp. Once inside, Kvasir was treated to the sight of Morrigan’s office, shop, and room combined all into one.
The inside of the room was cramped with all kinds of paraphernalia- dreamcatchers and charms hung from the ceiling, a colorful tarp rug spread out on the floor. There were all manner of crystal balls, junk spell focuses, and books, and plenty of potion components, empty vials, and projects on the side burner. A small cauldron shoved in the back was currently brewing a potion, which was being watched by the little kobold perched on a nearby crate.
Morrigan flung their jacket off onto a nearby table, revealing the tattoos all from their shoulders to their wrists, the swirling geometric patterns and runes visible as they rolled up the sleeves of their tunic. “Bubbles, I’m back! And I brought a friend!”
Bubbles immediately scampered over, waving their hands in the air and immediately jumping up and down at Kvasir’s feet. “New friend, new friend!”
“Bubbles, this is Kvasir Sigurros. He is a guest here, so treat him with respect, okay?”
“Yes, yes!” Bubbles cheered. “Master Moonweaver talks about Friend Kvasir all the time!”
Morrigan turned away to face their potions table, using the search for fruit amongst the clutter to hide the deep flush in their face. Bubbles was a good little parrot, but sometimes they were too honest when they repeated whatever Morrigan said.
“Why don’t you get back to work, you little loveable scamp?” Morrigan asked before Bubbles could go exactly into exactly what Morrigan had said about Kvasir and thoroughly embarrass them. “Please, make yourself at home for a second while I have a look around.”
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Nov 30, 2022 15:12:36 GMT -5
There's a distinct difference between the way Kvasir traverses Zeinav City and the way he wanders through the Moonglade.
When he treads through the familiar forests of the Moonglade, searching for herbs, there's a rehearsedness to it-- the practiced stride of someone who's walked those paths a hundred times and will walk them a hundred times more, guided by a thousand times' worth of wandering. Here, in the midst of Zeinav City, he wanders with the gait of someone who belongs there; relaxed, content, each step as easy as the wind washing low over blades of grass, more comforted by the crowd than unsettled by it. For someone who tensed the way he did over all talk of the desert when they'd first met, Kvasir seems truly at peace here, and hardly even aware of how light his shoulders feel.
He quietly laughs as Morrigan pulls him into their wagon, interest sparkling in his eye as he drinks in the rainbow of trinkets and charms, the glistening bottles and crystals anddddd the spiraling tattoos traveling down Morrigan's arms, in full view as they toss their jacket idly to the side. For a moment, Kvasir lets himself just look over the patterns, the sweeping shapes and runes and lines, only for his thoughts to be scattered by the sound of two voices-- one familiar, and one new.
He blinks as a small kobold scampers across the room, eyes big with excitement as they look up at him, and he's quick to offer a smile and a wave as Morrigan introduces him-- but surprise flashes across his countenance at the recognition that splits through Bubbles's voice.
Morrigan has talked about him before? Frequently? Positively?
"Do they, now?" Kvasir asks, eye flitting back to look over at Morrigan, a hint of amusement shining amidst forest green and sandy gold, a sly smile starting to pull at his face, enough to hide the giddiness beneath. "Well, I'm glad to hear that, Bubbles-- and it's lovely to meet you."
He stifles a quiet giggle behind his hand as Morrigan quickly ushers the little kobold away, unable to help wondering just why they were so eager to get the little creature to leave-- what manner of things did Morrigan have to say about him to warrant a reaction quite like that? He can at least assume they're fairly positive, based on the warmth reception Bubbles regarded him with-- oh, curiosity may be quite the killer, but it's such a tempting edge to walk.
"What manner of things have you been telling them?" Kvasir quietly giggles, not at all serious in his question-- he's hardly expecting any sort of answer from Morrigan, after all, especially as they start looking around. He resolves to just take a seat on the floor, careful to stay away from any of the delicate objects, still smiling stupidly to himself all the while as he waits for Morrigan to find what they're looking for.
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Dec 2, 2022 0:54:31 GMT -5
It seemed Kvasir was not willing to let Morrigan off the hook so easily.
Morrigan rifled through glass vials and parchment-wrapped components, carelessly knocking things over as they went. “Ahh… my space is so disorganized.” They lamented to themselves, knowing full well that despite their irritation, nothing would be done about the issue. Kvasir seemed suitably entertained by both Bubbles’s antics and Morrigan’s flailing.
Morrigan hummed as they thought over their answer. “Oh, you know. I told the little guy about our adventures in Moonglade.”
At the word Moonglade, Bubbles perked up from their seat on the crate. “Master Moonweaver slayed a displacer beast!”
“Helped slay a displacer beast.” Morrigan corrected. “Bubbles here loves to tell stories-“ Mostly repeating the ones that Morrigan fed them- “So I shared the details of our battle against the dastardly monster, and the casualties of battle- namely, my poor clothes.”
“Friend Kvasir saved Master Moonweaver like a knight in shining armor!”
“Yes, thank you, Bubbles.” Morrigan said, perhaps a touch too loudly, before lifting up a jar triumphantly. “Ah-ha! I knew I had some. All yours, Kvasir Sigurros.” Morrigan said as they offered the jar to Kvasir. “I insist- Vaha fruit is all too easy for me to come by. If I feel the need to replenish my stock, it’s only a quick trip outside the city’s borders.”
They found Kvasir sat in the middle of their floor, as if the medic was afraid of accidentally touching and breaking anything. His concern for Morrigan’s things was sweet, and so very Kvasir. Morrigan was delighted to see him seemingly more at ease in a place that he had previously professed discomfort in returning to, even if he was staring at everything with wide eyes like he was afraid that he would break anything he touched.
“Here. My stock. It’s all yours.” Morrigan said with a wink as they handed Kvasir the jar. As an extra bonus, they reached over and grabbed a cloth bag from their table that was half-full of tea leaves and lobbed it at the medic for him to catch. “And a little customer bonus.” This was traditionally a tea they passed off as a medicinal cure-all. In reality, it was just a regular tea, and a damn good blend at that- Kvasir didn’t need to know about Morrigan’s peddled products.
“Now, should we set out for the market, friend? Anything particular you have missed in your time away?”
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Dec 2, 2022 2:38:48 GMT -5
A knight in shining armor, eh?
That's certainly not one he's heard before; Kvasir's been handed all manner of little compliments in his time as a doctor, from sweet, critically ill children calling him a hero as soon as he's managed to turn the tides of their condition, to idle lines like "life saver" or other such things. He's never been good at taking them, really; taking care of people is just part of his job, part of his passion, and praise or adulation is hardly something he feels he deserves for it. Still, this one sits like sugar over hot tea, dissolving sweetly through him in a warm, sugary stream that lights up his pulse with syrupy joy.
He can't help but wonder if it's merely Bubbles having a nice imagination, or perhaps even something verbatim.
"Like a knight in shining armor," he parrots almost wistfully, smiling perhaps just a little too widely over that one. "What a sweet thing to say. Well though, Bubbles, it seems your Master Moonweaver neglected to mention one thing-- they saved my life as well. Shielded poor, delicate me from the beast's attacks, insisting that I got to safety while they battled in close-quarters, sustaining all that damage in my stead. It was quite the show of courage and skill-- I'm surprised they left that part out."
Kvasir elects not to mention the heart attack that Morrigan nearly gave him in their brush with the displacer beast; as lovely as their evening together had been, if there was anything he could've done without, it would definitely have been watching Morrigan nearly get mauled. They'd both put up a good fight in tandem, but it still felt unfair that Kvasir had walked out unscathed.
Still, any lingering anxiety over such thoughts drifts away as Morrigan hands him the jar and tosses him a small cloth bag-- one that, when he pulls at the cord, yields the sweet, familiar scent of a Zeinav tea blend, one he can carry with him across his travels, a little remnant of home.
Ah, he really can't stop smiling.
"Ah, well, I think I owe you a new shirt, still," Kvasir chuckles, although he's entirely serious, quickly putting both jar and bag inside of his satchel, careful and secure. "Beyond that... I was always fond of the different pigments they'd offer in the markets... bath oils, things like that. Nowhere else in Charon has anything quite like Zeinav's." He gestures to the bright colors lining his eye, the stark blue and red. He hardly thinks of himself as vain, but hey, he does value his appearance. "Mm... street food... other than that, I'd be happy just to browse, friend."
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Post by Morrigan Moonweaver on Dec 15, 2022 18:40:00 GMT -5
Bubbles clapped their small, clawed talons together with a squeal of delight as Kvasir shared his side of the tale with no small amount of exaggeration himself. Morrigan hadn’t exactly shielded Kvasir from any attacks, nor could their actions be described in any way as noble. And yet, as Kvasir shared his story with no small amount of fondness, Morrigan’s eyes drifted over to the vial sitting on their potions table, where the Dusk’s Kiss was still contained.
They weren’t really sure if Kvasir was playing along with Bubbles or not, but it was nice to have someone who seemed to wholeheartedly believe the lie for once.
“Master Moonweaver tells me so many things!” Bubbles shared, practically hopping up and down with their arms in the air, their own little wizard robe bunching up at the sleeves and nearly tripping them up with the action. “Did you know that Master Moonweaver once split the seas and caused a powerful hurricane just because someone tried to rob them?”[1]
Well, at least they were still spouting off some of the lies Morrigan had fed them on top of the equally embarrassing vulnerable truths.
“A new shirt would be lovely, though it’s nothing I can’t afford with my own coin. And pigments can easily be arranged.” Morrigan said, ushering Bubbles away before they could say anything else. There was no shortage of stalls with everything Kvasir could want in Zeinav. They grabbed their jacket once more, already humming with nervous excitement to set out once more- show Kvasir all their favorite stores… and avoid some of the shops they’d been banned from. “As for street food, a meal can be arranged. Bubbles, I’ll bring you chicken skewers if you behave, okay? No playing in the potions again.”
“But I want to drink the elixir of the gods!”
What Bubbles had really drank the last time they broke into Morrigan’s supply cabinet was a bottle full of sparkling water with a couple of rose petals thrown in, but Morrigan would refrain from mentioning that particular tidbit.
“The elixir of the gods is too powerful for your tiny little body to handle.” Morrigan said as they began ushering Kvasir outside before the kobold could spill any more information about Morrigan’s schemes. They hurriedly closed the tent behind them once the two were outside once more.
“You’ll have to forgive my apprentice. They are… rather earnest in their pursuit of the arcane.” And, much to Morrigan’s dismay, had begun to idolize Friend Kvasir right alongside Master Moonweaver after Morrigan had shared their stories of what happened in the Lantern Light Woods. “If I am not careful, you might just snatch my apprentice right from under my nose, friend.”
They let out a good-natured laugh at this, one that did not sound particularly offended in the slightest, before looping their elbow around Kvasir’s and dragging him through the streets. “Now, come along and we shall see what fineries the High Market has to offer today, hmm?” 1. Smooth Talking
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Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Dec 24, 2022 22:17:28 GMT -5
There's a sparkle in Kvasir's eye that refuses to fade as he listens to Bubbles chatter along about Morrigan's innumerable deeds-- that ring of gold that sits at the center of forest green gleams all the brighter, shining with unbroken interest in every word of every story the little kobold has to tell him, no matter how devoid of detail. Sure, Kvasir is hardly the type to invest too much interest in the words of storytellers, hardly the type to get so invested in glory and grandiosity when earthly concepts seize his attention far more easily, but all of that flies out of the window when the subject of a story happens to be his favorite enchanter.
What can he say? They were interesting then in the recesses of the Lantern Light Wood, in all their strange and sparkly charm, and they're interesting now, as Bubbles jumps from story to story, spinning quite the fascinating vision of the powerful wizard they stand beside. Kvasir merely smiles, his tail flicking the air, though he's careful to ensure it doesn't brush against any stray trinkets or baubles and knock them loose.
He muffles a giggle behind a gloved hand as Morrigan ushers Bubbles away, as if they're flustered over the sweet little thing's gushing. How strange, to envision one as unflappable as Morrigan Moonweaver getting embarrassed; for all the times the tiefling had left him stammering beneath the light of the woods, it's amusing to see a bit of an inversion in the dynamic.
"Oh, I know you can likely afford it yourself, but it's on principle," Kvasir insists, turning that smile back up to Morrigan instead. "That poor thing got demolished on my watch, and I'd at least like to see to it that we find something close to it. You seemed quite fond of it, after all. Perhaps I'll set aside some Solars for some kohl and the like for you, as well-- different colors from what I favor, but... I doubt there's much you wouldn't look lovely in."
It's moments like these that Kvasir resents not having the ability to wink. Morrigan is clearly already a bit flustered-- it would be amusing to get another shot at playful vengeance!
Still, the thought quickly leaves as soon as Morrigan drags him outside, leaving Bubbles safely sequestered within the wagon, all talk of god's elixirs and grand feats of magic left behind. Kvasir muffles another bout of giggles behind his hand, though the amusement is still painted quite plainly across his face-- dear Solaria, forgive him, it's just so difficult not to be amused by such a strange little dynamic.
"There's nothing to forgive," he says earnestly, his eye sparkling as Morrigan loops their arm through his. "Let's go, indeed."
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