“The draping is the most important part.” Morrigan said with all the seriousness of someone who might regularly spend their afternoons laying on the ground before it occurred to them that they had incidentally given Kvasir the impression that Morrigan was someone who made it a habit to roll around on the dirty floor in the first place. Damnit. Struck with that horrifying feeling one only got when they’d just made an ass out of themselves in front of someone whose opinion they respected, but forced to double down on what they were doing, Morrigan did a little roll and spin until they had shimmied closer to Kvasir, throwing their hand into the air with a flourish of glitter.

“Oh, you know me… enchanter, diviner, storyteller, creator of miracles and maker of elixirs most wonderful…catcher of dastardly thieves.” Internally, they were currently trying to stifle a scream that wanted to force its way out of their mouth. All for the money. This was all for the money, Morrigan told themselves. That way they could restore their dignity and charm by buying Kvasir whatever he wanted from these market stalls. “But I find it terribly comfortable down here. You should join me, if you wish.”

There were a million questions behind Kvasir’s sharp green gaze that he left unspoken. Morrigan blinked again, fluttering their eyelashes and hoping they at least looked pretty enough while they made a fool of themselves. They’d done worse for less money.

“No need.” They waved a dismissive hand. “I think they’ve given me the slip-”

That was when Morrigan spotted the tiny, flying bird soaring through the air, light glinting off the knife raised in the air as the ‘dastardly thief’ in question readied themselves to stab Kvasir right in the back.

What the fuck are they doing?

Morrigan hastily made a gesture with their hand over their neck, signaling for Fish to cut it out, abort mission, ABORT MISSION. But in the air, Fish could no sooner be diverted from their course than a river from its path, which meant that Morrigan was going to have to take more drastic measures to settle this and save Kvasir from getting stabbed by an eight year old bird with a knife.

So Morrigan launched themselves from the ground, past Kvasir, in an attempt to tackle Fish from the ground.

The good news: Morrigan successfully managed to intercept the knife.

The bad news: they did so not with their hands as they’d intended, but with their back as they maneuvered through the air and twisted.

Kvasir would have heard Morrigan let out a pained yelp as the blade embedded itself at least an inch and a half to their back, straight through the wizard jacket, and in the haze of pain, the only thing Morrigan could think was, Are you kidding? I just got this thing fixed again!

They staggered back, biting their lip to stifle a scream as Kvasir finally turned around, an alarmed expression on his face. Panic seized Morrigan’s pain-addled brain as they glanced around to make sure that Fish was nowhere around for Kvasir to spot and ruin everything. But Fish was nowhere to be found… where the fuck were they?

Unbeknownst to Morrigan, the strange weight that accompanied the knife in their back was actually Fish, holding on for dear life to the hilt of the blade, dangling in midair. Fortunately, this meant that Fish was hidden from sight where Kvasir couldn’t see, as Morrigan was currently facing him. Unfortunately, this also meant that Morrigan was currently in indescribable pain.

Morrigan leaned against the nearby wall of the alleyway, partially to further obscure fish, partially to continue to act natural, and partially because they found they could no longer stand on their own with the excruciating tearing feeling in their back was a hair’s breadth away from causing them to black out.

This was fine. It was all for the money. Kvasir still hadn’t seen Fish, which meant that all Morrigan had to do was deal with this until Fish could find an opportunity to hop off and deposit the money in Morrigan’s pocket before slipping away.

“... I thought I saw a spider about to land on you.” Morrigan wheezed. “Must have been a trick of the light. Pay no attention to me. Shall we… return to our meal?”

To say Fish is confused would be an understatement. The bird looks helplessly up at the sky to keep their beak from digging into Morrigan as they just sort of dangle there. A couple of uncomfortable seconds pass as Fish thinks. Was this not what Morrigan had wanted? Witnesses are bad for crimes so this was the quickest solution, but the tiefling intervened so somewhere in this the wires got crossed.

Fish will have to discuss this later, for now escape. They attempt to dismount and yank their knives free, but with the way Morrigan has leaned against the wall they are stuck. Fish gives it a few wiggles before furrowing their brow in disappointment. More leverage is needed. Fish puts their feet against Morrigans back to give themselves a better chance.

They tug and tug before eventually the knives come free, but with how hard Fish is pulling they end up crashing back into the boxes. Debris and clutter fall to conceal the bird, but there was no concealing that crash.

Dear Solaria, this has been a strange day.

That sorely unimpressed look on Kvasir's face does not fade for a second as he watches Morrigan continue to lay on the ground, though he cannot help the way a smile pulls at the corners of his lips as they roll closer, throwing their usual handful of rose and lavender glitter through the air with its usual fanfare. He sighs to try and mask it, but really, no sigh or roll of the eye or any faux gesture or sign of irritation or vexation or otherwise can ever properly package up and conceal the fondness that lights up his whole face when Morrigan Moonweaver is in the picture.

"I think I am quite fine with both my feet planted firmly on the ground, my darling idiot," he says a little too softly, a half-chuckle following the words at the way Morrigan bats their lilac-stained lashes at him. Gods, they're a mess, but they're the loveliest mess in all the world. "If you're certain you have no interest in pursuing this little rogue, then should we head back?"

He's just about to kneel down and offer Morrigan his hand when panic sparks in their eyes as suddenly as a match against a candle wick, flame melting spun ice, and they start making a strange gesture for apparently no reason-- what are they doing? Kvasir is just about to spin around to get a look at whatever they're staring at when Morrigan suddenly launches forward, leaping past him and whirling around on their feet like a dancer in the square-- but he cannot mistake the look of agony that twists their features for anything else, the pained cry that punches from their lips out of seemingly nowhere. He blinks, trying to piece together what the hell happened, but then they just-- they lean against the wall like everything is fine and normal, their voice tight.

"...Morrigan Moonweaver?" Kvasir's tone is strained with worry, all of the fond exasperation warped into concern. He glances around, searching for signs of danger, not even bothering to entertain his dear enchanter's comment about a spider. He quite likes spiders, anyway; one of his dearly beloved friends-- and most valued aid with hunting for cherry blossoms-- is a spider. "...are you quite alright? You-- you look like you're about to pass out..."

...

Is that blood on the ground?

What the hell?

Kvasir glances around the alley, his expression twisted by unease as he searches for the source of danger, a sharp look beginning to settle in his eyes as the seconds trickle by. Gods, damn it, can he have one day, one outing that does not involve Morrigan Moonweaver getting hurt, that does not involve sprained ankles or spilled blood or shattered bones? Did they do something to spite the Gods so deeply that now they're just-- getting wounded out of nowhere? Dear Solaria, they may very well thwart Kasra's grand plans just by killing Kvasir prematurely from sheer stress.

He's just about to ask what happened, about to step forward to heal whatever is wrong, palms already glowing with Solaria's magic, when there's a crash, a stack of crates in the alleyway falling down suddenly in the same moment as a spray of more blood cascades against the ground. Kvasir gawks, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, looking to Morrigan for an answer, but they seem far from keen on answering.

Kvasir lets out a heavy sigh, marching over and placing his palm against Morrigan's face, channeling the usual surge of healing energy as they try to babble some bullshit about strawberry jam. [1] He gives them the most tired, unimpressed look imaginable, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

"...my dearest moron," he says flatly. "I am a doctor. A medic. A surgeon, sometimes. I am very, very acquainted with what blood looks like. Would you kindly tell me what is going on before I pass out from the sheer stress of knowing you?"

Ah. So this was what death felt like. It felt an awful lot like bleeding out in a shitty, dirty alley in the middle of Zeinav’s marketplace, with no one around but a healer to keep Morrigan company as they felt Fish tugging at the knife, attempting to wrench itself free from Morrigan’s back, like the old children’s fairy tales about Arthur and the sword in the stone. Eventually, there was a bit of pressure, and the faint feeling of emptiness as the knife dislodged itself, the only seal preventing the squishy bloodbag that was Morrigan Moonweaver’s mortal vessel suddenly gone, and suddenly there was blood spilling down their back and filling their lungs, all down the cobblestone ground.

They huffed out a breath, one that sounded more like a rattled wheeze in the back of their throat and tasted like iron. Kvasir’s voice, distant as Morrigan’s head swam, cut through the silence, asking if Morrigan was okay.

Wait.

Kvasir was a healer, what was Morrigan so worried about? They could just ask Kvasir to heal them, and then the two of them could continue on their date! This would be easy-peasy…

But then Kvasir would ask where the inconspicuous knife-shaped wound had come from, and that would raise suspicion, and he’d get worried and insist they look for this mystery attacker that, firstly, didn’t exist, and secondly, would put Fish at risk. As much as Morrigan gave the little thief shit, they were… a friend?- They were good to work with, and there was a shortage of good fences in Zeinav to work with. That was the reason Morrigan didn’t want to put them at danger.

“There is no need to worry… my dear enchanter.” Morrigan wheezed, despite the excruciating pain they were feeling that was definitely need to worry. They’d been stabbed a number of times in their life, including by the God of what Once Was- who would certainly embody that title if Morrigan ever saw that accursed deity ever reared his ugly head with those horrible, piss-yellow eyes again- but there was nothing quite like the sensation of supporting an entire kenku child from your back while they twisted the knife around before yanking it out. “I have never been… in better health. I am but a- a young spring chicken, ready to return to our meal.”

And then, they coughed blood into their hands.

Morrigan immediately wiped it on their trousers, immediately attempting to get rid of it, but Kvasir’s eye had widened in shock- and he had definitely seen the blood, there was no way he hadn’t. He wasn’t just an arcane healer touched by Solaria’s light- he was a surgeon, and knew the sight of blood when he saw it. There was nothing Morrigan could do now but scramble for an excuse, to spin a story of how this happenstance came to pass so powerful that Kvasir would have no choice but to believe it.

“It’s, uh, jam.” Morrigan said, immediately grimacing at how that sounded. Jam? Really, Morrigan Moonweaver? The smaller, skeptical part of their mind accused while the rest of Morrigan was simply trapped in a pleasant brain fog. Words, idiotic ones, were leaving their mouth at a rapid pace now, digging themselves into an even bigger hole. “Yeah, jam. You know, first it was the fruitcake, and now this. It makes me wonder if we have some sort of food epidemic on our hands, dear enchanter. Perhaps we should investigate-”

They did not have time to finish this horrible excuse before Kvasir’s warm healing light washed over them once more, a woefully familiar feeling by this point, as relieving as it was to have the stab wound on their back stitch itself back together with only as much as a gentle touch from Kvasir’s hand while Kvasir played the stress card once more, and all Morrigan could do as this house of cards threatened to come tumbling down around them. Now was as good a time to come clean as any.

“Alright. You’ve got me- I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Their eyes drifted towards the box that Fish was currently hiding behind, hoping that the bird would forgive them for what they were about to do. “You see, there’s something that I’ve been hiding, someone I came here to meet. I had arranged this meeting long before I knew you were coming to visit, and I could not resist spending time with you, but I had these… responsibilities to take care of. You see…”

They let out a mournful sigh.

“You’re not the only one with an alchemical apprentice, Kvasir Sigurros.”

Internally, they prayed to every merciful god out there that this would work.

But their fate wasn’t in the hand of any deity right now.

It was in the hands of Fish, and that was infinitely more terrifying.

A second of silence passes....then another. Morrigan may feel the creeping sense of dread that Fish has absolutely ske-fucking-daddled out of there. Who could blame them? This whole situation was all sorts of ruined.



Slowly two little taloned hands rise up from the debris, making signs that Kvasir would recognize as sign language, "Apprentice is a strong word for it."



Fish springs from the debris to shake themselves free of dust, feathers fluffing out a moment as they clean themselves. Those little hands take the hem of their cloak and give it a few good shakes to shake the dust off it. Among the knives, Kvasir could likely spot a few makeshift alchemical tools, though whether or not that fully distracted from the well armed bird was up to them.



"Fish the Sneak, poi...." They pause halfway though the last sign, looking at Morrigan's likely desperate and pleading face. Probably shouldn't reveal their work it seemed. The tiefling looked particularly insistent on that part. Fish thought it a little late in the game for subterfuge, but all right. Morrigan is a friend, Fish can humor them.



"Potential alchemist." The kenku stops there. They curiously look up to the fox man, the two of them seemed to throw a lot of affectionate words back and forth. Noted. Fish was not supposed to murder the fox man, Fish would keep that in mind going forward. "Fish also studies medicine."



The whiplash of reactions might be a little disorienting. Morrigan is a trained liar and their words can shift like the wind, their meaning ephemeral to the moment. Fish on the other hand is incredibly straightforward and blunt, there is no attempt at lying or sweet talking.

Of all the possible explanations Morrigan Moonweaver could have given for the events unfolding in this alleyway today, the acquisition of an apprentice had been nowhere on Kvasir's list.

In all fairness, he doubts that is the first thing to pop into anyone's mind when they wander into a situation like this, with bloodstains against dust or a toppled tower of crates or the sheer idiocy of someone draping themself over the earth in an attempt to throw together an excuse. It's hard to say what Kvasir had actually been prepared to hear, really; Morrigan is unpredictable, whimsical and wild as the thousand winds, and the strange things that carry them forward are as enigmatic as they can be. Perhaps what they'd said about a thief could've been true, perhaps it might've been something different-- but an apprentice? All of this leading to an alchemical apprentice was truly the strangest of possibilities.

The stretch of silence that follows Morrigan's words is heavy and long and awkward, and for a second, just a second, the edge of doubt creeps down Kvasir's spine-- they're lying to you, isn't that something?-- and he's only just managed to banish the thought when ink-feathered hands spark to life over the crate, and a tiny kenku leaps out into the alley.

A short, barely noticeable sigh of relief, a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, punches its way out of Kvasir's lungs.

The kenku-- Fish... the Sneak? odd name, but alright-- looks young, but there's a sharpness in those eyes, an intelligence, a sense of knowledge of the world and what it holds. They're bundled up in a cloak, one lined with myriad tools, from alchemical instruments to a really unholy number of knives, and they don't seem all too keen on making a sound. Their hands fly in quick motions, signing out words instead of speaking them, and as they silently chatter about who they are and what they study, Kvasir cannot help the way his eye lights up, tail swishing back and forth with interest.

"Really, Morrigan Moonweaver, all of this to hide something so silly?" he huffs with faux-indignance, gently swatting at his dear enchanter's nose. He sticks his tongue out at them, just so, making his displeasure with their antics very clear. There's a light of playfulness in his eye, that vulpine lineage sparking to life, but... for a brief second, the hurt it masks flickers through. "I didn't think you'd... feel the need to lie to me. Especially not about something like this."

Kvasir lets out a quiet sigh before dropping to sit on the ground, looking straight ahead at Fish with interest shining in his eye. Mild irritation-- and genuine budding sense of hurt, however foolish and petty-- aside, the kenku seems remarkably promising, especially if medical interest is their thing.

"Hello there, Fish," he signs rapidly, the motions nearly second nature to him. Sign language was one of those things he learned early-- his father's voice is something he can only faintly remember, but he remembers the words, the chiding, the insistence that if he wanted to be a medic then he had better learn the best ways to speak with anyone and everyone, no matter who they were-- and it has proved remarkably useful. "My name is Kvasir. I'm a doctor myself, as well as an alchemist-- Morrigan Moonweaver and I are both Golden Consortium members, though I'm sure you already know that they are. It's wonderful to meet you."

He offers a bright smile, then, the ease steadily returning to his face as all notions of his earlier worry and doubt escape it, his tail still swishing, his ears perked in interest.

Odds are, Morrigan Moonweaver was just... waiting until things with this apprenticeship were a bit more secure.

They've never given Kvasir a reason to doubt them before.

The longer Morrigan went without a response from Fish, the more they began to sweat and wonder if the fence really had ske-fucking-daddled out of there and abandoned them. But then, there was a flurry of movement before Fish stepped out from behind the boxes, introducing themselves to Kvasir with their usual method of communication. For a moment, Morrigan thought they would have to step in and translate before Kvasir immediately lit up and started signing back.

Morrigan’s tail flicked behind them in a slow, almost guilty manner as they tried to figure out an answer to that question. Wait- guilt? Why would they feel something like that? This was a small lie, benign really. Morrigan had told much worse to others in the past without so much as batting an eye, and yet, something about Kvasir’s wilting expression and drooping ears as he swatted at Morrigan’s nose and asked why they felt the need to hide something like this made Morrigan feel like they’d swallowed an entire lemon.

“I’m… not sure.” Morrigan said after a moment. “You’ve met Bubbles, but they’re more of a hired hand than anything. An apprentice is… something different. Something I’ve never taken on before.” That much was the truth. Morrigan had learned their craft under Madam Medb- had been the student but never the master. It was difficult to find the right kind of person to train in the ways of the con. “But this is all so new-” Approximately several minutes old, in fact- “That I wasn’t sure how to tell you. This particular venture is foreign to me. You’ll have to forgive my dishonesty- though born from fear, it was not right, and it will not happen again.”

But then, Kvasir lit up like the sun once more as Fish mentioned that they practiced medicine, a fact that Morrigan hadn’t known before. They knew Fish had a proclivity for poisons, a fact that Morrigan had heard them nearly slip up and reveal, but didn’t have any idea the bird had other interests as well. He reacted with the same amount of infinite kindness and patience that he treated everyone with, overjoyed to meet up with someone who shared his passions.

Morrigan forced a smile again.

“Look at you two, all getting along already!” They said jovially, crouching between Kvasir and Fish and pulling both of them close into an awkward, three-way hug. “My favorite medic and my favorite medic hopeful are getting along. Isn’t this a treat? Is it my birthday already?” They said, forcing a bit of excitement and cheer into their voice.

“Well, it’s all happy and nice to see everyone bonding.” But Fish probably shouldn’t stick around too long, and not just because that ugly feeling had reared its head once more at the sight of Kvasir getting along so easily with Fish. It wasn’t safe for the bird to stay for long, not when any simply slip of the tongue- or hand- could mean Kvasir would learn all about their exploits here. “But Fish, I’m sure you have other matters to attend to in your studies… you know, the tasks I sent you on? Kvasir Sigurros and I were in the middle of dinner, so perhaps we should return to that and leave you to your work…”

Seeing that Kvasir understands them much more clearly, Fish physically and mentally shifts their focus to the fox man. Fish was thankful they did not have to wait on Morrigan to translate because that would likely cause more problems than they already face.



"Fish has sto....studied some things from Consortium members before." Fish was smart enough to not mention Morrigan's membership in the guild was a part of the sell for their faked goods. Always nice to have a slight bit of credibility to a scheme, helps with the sell.



For a moment, Fish is a little on edge with how Kvasir drops to the ground, taking it as a comment on how small Fish is, but the less prone to insult part of their mind realizes its probably a pain to have to look down especially when a person needs to see Fish to talk to them.



"Fish was considering the guild, but Morrigan said that Fish needs to do a bit more research." The kenku reaches into a pouch and pulls out a bundle of astragalus and larkspur, quite unaware of the ironic floriography behind both of the flowers for this given moment. They are handed over to the tiefling as if this was intended the whole time.



"Fish can stay." Fish is also blissfully unaware of their status now as a third wheel.

It's a bit odd to hear Morrigan so readily admit to being... uneasy about taking on an apprentice. It's understandable, of course, considering just how much comes with such a thing-- you bear the responsibility of teaching someone who respects you, the responsibility of ensuring someone flourishes beneath your guidance, the responsibility of ensuring they use the lessons you give them for good. Kvasir would be one hell of a hypocrite if he held anything against them for their uncertainty over the matter; he'd be lying if he said he didn't still fret over whether or not he was good enough to be giving Nyr medical guidance. Hearing them admit it so readily, with such guilt springing to life in those glacial eyes...

Well. It isn't as if Kvasir could ever begrudge them to begin with, but any lingering traces of sorrow quickly flit away as soon as he drinks in that look on their face. If he hadn't already moved to settle on the ground, he'd have leaned in to nudge against them or some other equally foolish gesture of affection.

"You are forgiven, my dear enchanter," he says, turning to look up at Morrigan, offering them a faint smile. Really, it's... it's not often that he gets to see that easy veil of charm slip away, to see those fleeting moments of vulnerability beneath the curtains, but his heart melts like ice over a bonfire every time he does. It had when they'd flustered over Bubbles's babbling in their first shopping trip together in the High Market, and it had when Morrigan had bared their heart to him in Bleakfort the same way Kvasir had bared his. "I trust you. Always."

With that, he swivels back to Fish, nodding intently as they talk about having studied beneath Consortium members before, his tail swishing back in forth with that same continued interest.

"Well, you seem a sharp sort, Fish," he signs quickly. "I'm certain you'd be good Consortium material, if it caught your eye-- Morrigan Moonweaver is quite right about it being difficult, though. The initiation mission is no joke."

He falters, then, hands stilling, a shudder working through his spine, the echoes of a dead god's laughter ringing in his mind.

No joke, indeed-- not to him.

Kvasir blinks as soon as Morrigan leans down and pulls the three of them into a rather awkward hug, the positioning strange and distorted, a mess of crouching and standing and sitting-- still, he leans just so against their side, raising an eyebrow at them as soon as they indicate that perhaps Fish should get back to work. Out of the corner of his eye, Kvasir can see Fish's hands moving, insisting that they can say, and he has to bite his tongue to hold back a laugh.

"Really, Morrigan Moonweaver, I don't think it's a crime if we spend a bit longer with your apprentice," he says brightly. "I'm going to get to introduce you to Nyr one day-- I'm happy to get to meet Fish. We're in no hurry. I did tell you I had no plans for the rest of the day, after all."

He glances back over to Fish, then, a smile sitting quite naturally on his face.

"I will say, Fish, I do think you lucked out quite a bit in terms of an alchemical guide," he signs, a softness warming his eye, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as his hands move. "Morrigan Moonweaver is quite the fascinating person. They're... They're truly wonderful, and I have no doubt they will do whatever they can to guide you. They've always been quite keen on doing what they can for me, after all-- here, watch."

Kvasir pauses for a moment, one of his hands moving to settle against a part of the ground untouched by cobblestone, a pale light springing beneath his palms as grasses sprout to life beneath it, tiny wildflowers and foxglove unfurling from the earth. [1]

"This was a gift from them," he signs. "It's quite useful, especially if I need a certain flower for medications that I can't find anywhere near me. I cherish it. See, they're always looking out for me-- I have no doubt they'll look out for you."

---

[1] Floral Gloves

“Yes, they’re quite the alchemist hopeful. Naturally talented- perhaps even enough to surpass myself one day, but not anytime soon!” Despite the situation Morrigan still couldn’t resist the urge to boast about themselves, which they definitely should not have been doing given that this situation had gone entirely tits up, and all of it was completely Morrigan’s fault. A small part of them did have to admit that Fish, from what they knew, was talented at the craft. Their style differed from Morrigan’s in that it was precise and careful and far deadlier, but they were good at what they did. Their internal compliment was interrupted by Fish reaching into their bag and handing Morrigan a handful of astragalus and larkspur, playing into the farce…

Oh, that little shit.

Morrigan forced another laugh as they pocketed the offering. “Oh, Fish, you’re so expedient as always!” The words sounded like they were meant to be a compliment, spoken through near-gritted fangs of someone who was beginning to realize they’d made the bed they were about to lie in. “Fish here is a true professional. I can always count on them to get the job done.” And that part sounded a little more genuine. They were trying to think of another fake mission to give Fish, when Kvasir interrupted and assured Morrigan it was no crime if Fish joined them for the afternoon- the final nail on the coffin.

“Well, if you’re both amenable to it, then I don’t see why I shouldn’t give Fish the rest of the afternoon off so the two of you can get to know one another better!” They clapped their hands together. “And I would absolutely be overjoyed to meet this little Nyr of yours when I visit your new practice.”

They began to lead Fish and Kvasir back out of the alley, where Morrigan and Kvasir had been enjoying a perfectly lovely dinner, when Kvasir stopped and pressed his gloves to the ground, bringing flowers to life as a gift for Fish. Morrigan could only gape as Kvasir offered them as a gift, going on about how Morrigan would help them just as they’d helped him before. Words that someone like Morrigan Moonweaver didn’t deserve, and Fish most likely wouldn’t able to believe. As much as they touted around these grand laurels like they meant something, the truth was that, for most of Morrigan Moonweaver’s adult life, everything they ever did was a selfish action for their own gain.

Well. All but one.

You shouldn’t trust me, Morrigan wanted to say.

But since all of Morrigan’s actions had been selfish so far, perhaps keeping up this farce to Kvasir for their own sake was one more to add to the pile.

Maybe for a day they could pretend that this lie was reality, and that Fish truly was their stellar apprentice.

They put on a smile that was considerably more cheerful than the same forced one it had been a moment ago. If there was one thing Morrigan was good at, it was playing a part, and they would make this work. All they had to do was make sure Fish didn’t slip up and start talking about crime, then they would be golden. What could go wrong?

“Alright, then, my dearest medic and apprentice. Shall we get back to our meal?”

There's an irony to what Kvasir says, often Fish is doing the heavy lifting bailing Morrigan out of something whether it be moving hot items or just getting them out of a scrape, but the nuance and weight of that irony is lost on the bird. Their head tilts as they watch the fox's moves, especially when it comes to the gloves. Those would be quite useful, it is a strain on the bird to not just grab the gloves and run. A small talon pokes at the flowers to make sure they are real, they've seen plenty of simple illusions from the tiefling to know not to trust everything.


When they leave the alleyway, Fish crow hops behind following at a distance of a few feet. Out here in the open their avian tendency to twitch their head and constantly be looking out for threats is much more evident. Being that small its impossible to not always be worried about becoming prey.


They look back and forth between the backs of the two ahead of them. One part of Fish's brain knew they should just complete the job and let Morrigan be, but the situation intrigued Fish. People and their emotions were one of the few things Fish struggled to understand, but these two had a lot of emotions. Fish would do some scientific reconneisance for now.

This day has been quite the valley of emotions; it started with unease, with trepidation over venturing into the High Market unexpected and asking for any of Morrigan's time, unfurling further into the sheer joy of seeing them at all, however undercut by the ghost of frostbound dread, all entangled by chaos and guilt and sorrow and now this strange sense of mirth and relief for the fact that things are not, in fact, as bad as Kvasir thought they might be. Even through the chaos and brief bit of bloodshed-- which, he's still wondering how, exactly, Fish wound up accidentally wounding Morrigan--, the dust seems to have settled, and he prays that it stays that way.

A tiny smile plays at his lips as he watches Fish poke at the flowers, the pink petals of the foxglove giving just so beneath their talons-- they seem well-educated on herbs and flowers, considering what they'd handed to Morrigan earlier, so for the moment, he bites back a warning about digoxin poisoning. They likely know just fine, and Fish hardly seems the type to go around recklessly consuming poison.

"You can keep them if you'd like, Fish," he signs, taking a moment to gesture to the flowers. The wildflowers are a little simpler and may not catch their eye as much, but perhaps they'll take interest in the little pink sprigs of petal-bound poison poking out from the grass. "They're there for you."

As soon as Morrigan indicates they should get going, Kvasir is quick to jump back to his feet, brushing any sand and dust off of his trousers-- and his tail, because of course, that takes precedence! A twelve-step ear and tail care routine is not so carelessly squandered!-- before moving to stand by his dear enchanter's side, shooting them a warm smile. They seem a little less stressed out than they had been before, thankfully. As much as Kvasir likes those brief little glances into the vulnerability Morrigan is capable of beneath their grandeur, he still hates to see unease or pain etched across those pretty features.

"That sounds lovely to me, my dearest enchanter," he says easily. He knows he's falling back into this trap of normalcy, as if this is just some normal trip, but... it is just one day, and it is a vast and public place, and there are three of them, now. He can have this. "I paid for our drinks before running off to find you, at least, but we should have no trouble getting settled a second time."

Kvasir takes a few steps out of the alleyway, slow and leisurely, his pace unhurried as he walks by Morrigan's side back out into the main street. Fish hops behind them, weaving through the crowd as expertly as any other person accustomed to the roads of the High Market, and so he picks up his pace just so, humming quietly on the whole walk back to that same restaurant, not falling silent again until they pause before the very same place this all began.

"So," he says, swiveling back to look at both Fish and Morrigan. "Let's fetch a table for three, yes?"

Despite the ugly emotions playing in their chest- the desire to keep their criminal activities secret from Kvasir, jealousy about Kvasir’s own apprentice- there was still something sweet about watching Kvasir use the gloves they’d given him for Winter’s Crown to give Fish a little gift. A poisonous one, which seemed fitting somehow. Still, it… warmed their heart, watching Fish poke the plants with their talon, curiosity glimmering in their eyes.

The three set down through the streets, out of the alley and back to Zeinav’s marketplace. Morrigan and Kvasir walked side by side, with Fish trailing a little bit behind them- Morrigan glanced back at the little thief every once in a while to make sure that Fish wasn’t going to slip away in the crowd, or get lost amongst the sea of people.

Morrigan waved a dismissive hand as Kvasir brought up the matter of eating arrangement once more. “Give me a moment with the owner of the establishment. I have a lot of sway in the area, and I’m a regular around here- I’m sure they’d be willing to give me a table. And please, allow me to reimburse you for the drinks.”

Once they reached the restaurant, Morrigan pulled all three of them to a stop, looking between Kvasir and Fish with a wide grin. “Why don’t Fish and I go in and grab a seat? You’ve had a trying afternoon, my dear medic. I will bring you something to drink, okay?”

Before Kvasir could reply, Morrigan whisked Fish away with a wink in the medic’s direction, and another handful of glitter in the air, into the shop. Only once they were out of eyeshot of Kvasir did Morrigan finally turn to Fish, an urgent look in their eyes.

“Look. I promise you I will give you an earring from my collection- something shiny- whatever you want to take from my collection if you play along. Kvasir Sigurros is a dear friend of mine, and a fellow member of the Consortium. It simply would not do to have him learn of my illicit activities. I hold him in high regard, and it’s just- it’s important he doesn’t learn, understood?” They paused, biting their lip. “I trust you.”

And that was the truth, somewhat- this job had rather gone tits-up, but at the end of the day, Fish had jumped in to protect them when they thought Morrigan was in danger. And they’d gone along with this game of master and apprentice for Morrigan’s sake.

… Perhaps Morrigan would have to actually try to teach Fish some potions if they were really interested. Later, of course.

Maybe that would make this lie feel a little less soul-crushing.

Guilt was a horrible feeling. Morrigan decided they despised it.

“It’ll only be for this meal, okay? Then you can go off and take care of work.” The dragon-be-gone shipment still needed to be distributed. “I’ll pay you extra for this on top of it.” That ought to entice them. Fish was a businessman, and oMorrigan, at the very least, knew how to bargain with them well enough. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t stab Morrigan, but they’d already been on the receiving end of Fish’s blade once today, so what was one more stab wound?

“Just think about it.” They said. “I will go grab us a table.”

With that, they left to grab the a table- with a third chair this time, for their newest addition- and gathered Kvasir and Fish for a meal in earnest. Really, what could go wrong?

Fish stares blankly up at Morrigan a moment as the offer is given. It certainly was the most sensible solution to everything that had transpired in the last 20 minutes or so. Their transaction was being slightly altered so a change in payment wasn't uncommon...but something about it didn't feel entirely right. This wasn't as simple as one of the times Morrigan was late or their goods turned out to be even more of a scam than usual. This had gotten messed around in a much more....complicated way. Despite Fish's relative lack of emotional intelligence, they could see that Kvasir wasn't a 'complication' to their plans. At least not to Morrigan. Fish feels the flowers in their pocket, tilting their head. Behind those little eyes of theirs, calculations were being made but there was no formula for friendship.



What few heartstrings Fish has seem to be pulled at, "Keep the extra coin." Their hands hesitate as the bird tries to put together the emotions into words, but the hands just drop as they follow the tiefling to get a table.



If Morrigan were the insightful type, they would see the bird is on the verge of a breakthrough into learning that stabbing is not always a solution. If they were the smart type, they'd know not to push it for now and force the bird into a conclusion they are not ready to process.

A soft sigh falls from Kvasir's lips as soon as Morrigan insists on reimbursing him for the drinks from earlier, though there's that inevitable echo of fondness lingering beneath it; it's hardly as if they cost much, after all. The two of them didn't get a chance to get a food order in so all they'd really had was tea, and that hardly begged for much in the way of Solars, but oh, Morrigan is stubborn. Talking them out of something they had set their mind to could verge on impossibility, and it seemed their route of choice for today seemed to be throwing their money at Kvasir. He could try and insist otherwise, but dragging them off the course they'd set is never an easy task.

"You know, Morrigan Moonweaver, you don't have to reimburse me," he says, shaking his head as they stand before the restaurant. Even so, despite the touch of exasperation in his tone, there's a softness there, too, that irreversible adoration he can never hide away. "You don't need to pay for everything. But... I can wait out here, if you'd like--"

He trails off, scarcely able to get a word in as the two start off inside, already exiting the conversation before he can finish speaking. Ah, well. Kvasir doesn't mind one more opportunity to stand about and piece his thoughts together-- not this time, at least, when he is not truly alone, when he does not carry the heaviness of unease and sorrow in his heart. Instead, he merely loops his fingertips through one of the chains holding the strap of his satchel together and drums his fingertips against the metal, keeping his fingers busy as he watches Morrigan and Fish disappear into the storefront with a burst of glitter and a wink, left to turn all this new information over in his mind.

It's nice to know that Morrigan's been thriving, at the very least; seeing them putting time into passing down their alchemical knowledge to another sends a warm flood of joy washing over Kvasir like sunlight filtering through a window. Morrigan's skill with alchemy is not to be underestimated; every single potion Kvasir has seen them use, including their glitter bombs, has been remarkably potent and perfect for the job it's meant to carry out. He has no doubt Fish will thrive under their guidance-- he just... hopes there are considerably fewer stabbings in the future. What had that been about, anyway?

Still... that missing puzzle piece aside, Kvasir's tail swishes back and forth just a little bit, that same surge of fondness welling up in his heart as he thinks everything over, thinks of how well Morrigan seems to have been doing since they last saw one another. It is... a relief, really, considering how brutal and horrid their last encounter had been, considering how afraid Kvasir had been (...and still is) that he had dragged things past the point of no return.

They are still smiling, still throwing glitter around, still able to make use of alchemy and even pass down knowledge about it to another; to see them alight brings Kvasir the most joy he's felt since the snow stole it away.

He's so mired in thought that he almost doesn't notice as soon as Morrigan appears once more to drag him back inside, startling just so at the feeling of a hand against his shoulder, but he relaxes at the rush of recognition and easily follows along. Kvasir is happy to settle in at one of the chairs at the table Morrigan beckons him to, letting out a sigh of contentment as he gets situated across from Fish and Morrigan.

"...Gods above, maybe this meal will have significantly fewer cases of blunt force trauma happening around it," he sighs quietly, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. "Ah... I still don't know what that was about. So, Morrigan, Fish, what manner of things have you already gone over?"