“Why must we be the ones forced to go out and take care of these beasts in the first place?” This would not be the first time Morrigan had uttered such a complaint during this romp through the woods, nor would it be the last, likely to the ire of their companion for the afternoon, who had been subjected to this incessant chatter for the better part of the past few hours. Honestly, they were aware that their attitude had been piss-poor, but really, could they be blamed for it? Especially considering they’d been sent on what had to be the most boring mission the Golden Consortium had ever concocted. Most of the time, the alchemists of those stuffy, gilded halls sent Morrigan and Kvasir on interesting missions. They knew that the two worked well together, and despite all reason, they got results. They’d been the ones to break up the ring responsible for the series of bombings in Sol City, gone after any number of unimaginable rare plants.

And yet, the Consortium had the bright idea to send two of their best men to hunt down and capture a swarm of magical moths, of all things. Traditionally, the Consortium didn’t even bother with animals, but the silk from these particular moths were rumored to have light-enhancing effects, which the Consortium had a vested interest in testing.

It was not an exaggeration to say Morrigan hated animals. No, that wasn’t quite accurate- most animals hated Morrigan. Ever since they were a child, most had steered clear of them, as if they couldn’t stand to be around the weird, quiet child- even the giant dune-beetles that pulled the Scorpion’s wagons avoided Morrigan. At the Dreamscape Bazaar, the animal tamers kept Morrigan away from their exotic pets as the animals would grow anxious. There had hardly ever been a creature that had liked Morrigan, so they’d never had the chance to ever learn to like any of them. Why should they, when it would just end up with them getting scratched by some stupid beast?

Yes, it made much more sense for the Consortium to send someone like Kvasir, who had endless compassion and thoughtfulness of others. He’d probably charm the socks right off of these little hairy insects. Morrigan wasn’t necessary here, not when Kvasir would probably just flash one of those little adorable, pitiful, smiles and melt the hearts of any stupid animal that crossed their path.

Morrigan huffed, some of the irritation bleeding out as they forced the sour look off their face. “You simply must forgive me, my friend. I often find myself at odds when it comes to dealing with animals. You see… my magic is simply so powerful that most of them fear the sheer power of my aura. I fear that this breed of moth may react much the same to my presence, and fly into a frenzy… and those are complications we simply cannot afford.” They lied, rubbing at the back of their neck with something like sheepishness affixed to their face.

It was… difficult for the charlatan to admit weakness in any subject, and even that claim had come with its fair share of bragging and falsehoods.

“But the most important thing is finding and taking care of these animals.” Morrigan exclaimed after a moment, looking up at the taller man expectantly. “With our strengths combined, I have no doubt in my mind we will manage to track down these creatures and take care of them peacefully. Their properties are of great interest to both the Consortium and the Arcane Academy.”

With those final rallying words, they set off through the woods with renewed vigor, leaving Kvasir to trail behind them. The Lantern Light Woods were a familiar sight, and a surprisingly welcome one at that, considering Morrigan had been mauled by a displacer beast last they visited. Still, there was something rather quaint and charming about the entire place, like a little forest plucked right from the pages of a fairytale storybook. Morrigan just hoped they found these stupid animals quickly.

Well, there was no sense in speeding up the process. Morrigan reached into their bag and pulled out a vial of familiar silver liquid, before popping the cork and downing its contents.^[1] Immediately, their vision began to sharpen, allowing them a better look at the woods surrounding them. They could see bees pollinating flowers and smaller animals darting around the trees, but none of these elusive moths. They huffed, irritation bleeding into their posture once more, when they spotted something red in the corner of their eye, shuffling around where it was hidden in a crop of nearby bushes.

Morrigan perked up in interest. Could it be one of the moths? They’d heard that these strange insects came in a variety of colors, perhaps that even meant red! They turned back to Kvasir, suddenly alight with joy that they’d found the damn things so quickly. “Stay here.” They whispered, keeping their voice low. “I’ll capture this one.”

They didn’t stick around to see Kvasir’s reaction or hear his whispered objections before tip-toeing their way closer to the bushes, an impish grin plastered on their face. Closer and closer they crept, not especially stealthy, but the insect didn’t seem to notice their incredibly obvious approach- not until the moment Morrigan screeched, “Gotcha!” And pounced, attempting to tackle the moth and capture it right from its hiding place.

Only, that crouched figure, as Morrigan was quickly about to learn as they rammed right into the person’s side, sending them both careening to the floor- it was not an insect at all.

It was a person.

---

1. Eagle’s Sight Potion

It is a nostalgic thing, really, to be out here in these woods again.

The Lantern Light Wood is one of those places Kvasir knows best, one of the locations nothing and no one can scrub from the pages of his memory; he knows the intricacies of traveler-cut paths, the flora that blooms beneath the gentle roseate glow of the bulbs that gave this forest its name, the way the stars and moon cast their milk-pale light down through the canopy of trees to dapple the forest floor below, only ever amplifying that ethereal glow that halos the world contained within the enclosure of the trees. He has wandered these pathways more times than he will ever be capable of remembering. Truly, he's here so often that it seems almost ludicrous to consider this particular venture nostalgic.

There is one key thing that makes this different from any other old visit to the Lantern Light Wood, though: the presence of a specific diviner, enchanter, storyteller, alchemist, and walking heart attack.

It feels as though lifetimes have passed since the night Kvasir met Morrigan Moonweaver in the Lantern Light Wood, since they were strangers caught in easy banter, since simple foraging turned to a fight for their lives and Morrigan had laid theirs right on the line to spare a stranger the wrath of an angry displacer beast. It must have been an... eternity since then. Those days before a lilac star fell right into Kvasir's life in a burst of glitter and gentility feel so far away now, and it's reached a point where Morrigan Moonweaver has quickly readily sewn themself into the fabric of Kvasir's life, the stitches careful and stubborn, unable to be so easily clipped. In the time the two spend together, most might call them inseparable.

Such is a fact that the Golden Consortium seems to have caught on to, because the alchemist's union seems quite keen on shipping them off on all manner of missions together, whether it's mere foraging or throwing on absurdly pretty dresses and taking to the streets to infiltrate illegal potion-brewing rings. It had been... scary, at first, to be sent out so often with the person he values most, knowing that an entity that clearly wants their blood on his hands sleeps beneath his skin, but...

...Kvasir has to trust that they are capable, and that ruin is not etched into his own veins.

This, however, is no foraging mission; no, this time, they're looking for bugs, and Kvasir is not entirely pleased about it. He has no issue with the creatures of the world, usually, but the last time he went looking for bugs in the Lantern Light Wood, he'd been quick brutally mauled by a pack of them, unable to even heal himself due to the magic-neutralizing power lying within those wretched mandibles. Ugh. Loathsome little creatures, they'd been, even if he and Wit and Astrid had ultimately prevailed-- he's more than capable of an existence without magic, of patching himself up with medicine alone, but that had still not been a good time.

But these are hardly meant to be such terrible creatures. These are moths of unusual size, and they are supposedly quite harmless. Docile, even, if skittish, if entomological reports were to be believed.

Gods above, he hopes they can be believed.

"Ah, Morrigan Moonweaver, there is hardly a thing to forgive," Kvasir finally says, broken from his musing by the sound of his dear enchanter's voice. He tilts his head just so at the look plastered across Morrigan's face as they talk about the moths, as they talk about the pulse of their power; they may just be embellishing a little, he thinks, but the sheepishness of their tone is sincere. "I'm sure it will all be just fine, in the end."

He sets a hand against their shoulder, sweeping his thumb in a quick circle, almost a silent reassurance; such a thing likely is not necessary, as Morrigan hardly seems nervous, but he cannot resist all the same.

"We've conquered stranger challenges in more difficult conditions, my dear enchanter," he says with a smile. "I hardly think these moths will mark our defeat."

He stifles a small chuckle as soon as Morrigan charges forth, downing the contents of one of their hand-brewed Eagle's Sight potions so they can survey the land around them-- and then they're perking up again, charging off after something they've seen in the bushes, a cry of triumph sounding mere seconds after they disappear into the foliage. But no further noise of the sort follows; instead, there is the sound of two bodies hitting the ground, and an unfamiliar cry of surprise.

...

"Morrigan Moonweaver--"

Kvasir does not hesitate to walk over there, concern flashing in his eye as he finally moves through the bushes, only to find Morrigan on the forest floor, right beside a stranger all in red, their face concealed partially beneath a mask all in the same vermilion and gold. Hell, though, the mask certainly isn't enough to hide the fact that they seem quite shocked and perhaps a bit distressed by being suddenly tackled by a glittery bundle of hubris and impulses.

"...Um?" he falters, glancing between the two for a second, unsure of who to offer his hand to first. He opts to just kneel beside them both to check for any injuries, that steady concern still settling in his face. "...hello, there, stranger. Are the both of you alright?"

Amongst the navy hues and gentle glow of the Lantern Light Woods, it would be an understatement to say that Cantio doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. A twitching finch on his shoulder gleams bright; golden and warm in contrast to the cool tones of the Moonglade. Its beak opens and closes, but no sound emits from it; although only a spell, the little finch seems to hold a similar disposition to the tiefling that carries it.

A bit nervous and jittery, this one.

“I haven’t been this far into the Lantern Light Woods before...” Cantio breathes, almost spooking himself with the sound of his own voice in the otherwise silence of the Eclipse Jungle— in fact, it’s… it’s been a while since he’s been out and about in general! It’s a weird thing to consider for a bard who spent the last several years hopping to and fro, between borders, and across lands as though it were second nature.

But… it had been a long time since he’d found a place to call home; and there’s something so comfortable about simply being in Dragon’s Cradle. In the home that Veliky prepared for Astrid and himself. Admittedly, he’d become a bit of a homebody for a few months… always wanting to ensure Astrid had somebody to come home to when she returned from her adventures… and honestly? It wasn’t that bad.

He could’ve gotten used to being a stay-at-home dad, but now and then, he did get a little… not necessarily homesick, but perhaps nostalgic. Also, he’s only twenty-two! He’s still in his youth!

It’s a little early to be setting down roots, isn’t it!?

But… At least now that Blue Raspberry has moved in; Spicy Pawsage and Charles are always at Astrid’s side; and Melodia can always be relied on to check in on her while she's out, he feels a lot more at ease than he once did with their situation. She doesn’t need to come home to an empty house if he goes out, because she’ll always have someone nearby until he can make it back.

Cantio’s tail sways as he blinks back into the present; the tiefling shakes his head, displacing locks of long crimson over his shoulders as he looks down at a paper in his hands. Paper, however, is a generous word: it’s more of a sorry excuse of a napkin from the tavern he played in last night. Upon closer inspection, it has a sloppy map written on it. He blinks at it, tilting his head as he slowly angles the square to see if it somehow makes more sense slightly farther away, or slightly to the right…

He had heard a couple of drunkards talking about moths in the Lantern Light Woods, to which they were more than happy to babble excitedly to him about the “absolute size of those honkers” which sounded more inappropriate than anything else when coming from enthusiastic drunk gentlemen, but apparently they were big moths!

Of most interest to Cantio, however, was that they spun silk which had an interesting effect on the light; something which was not as eloquently babbled in drunkard, but which he definitely picked out of the details. Upon asking where he might be able to see them for himself, he was given Charon’s worst map on Charon’s equally worst napkin. It is a wonder he even found his way to the Lantern Light Woods with this thing.

His hope is, mostly, to see if he can acquire some of the moth’s silk as a small textile experiment, but… well, if they’re hostile he might re-think that plan.

The thought discourages him a bit. Cantio shakes his head as he drops into a crouch; he sets his weird map on the ground in front of him. He breathes a sigh, which is drowned out by the sound of footsteps as he reaches for the finch on his shoulder for a better source of light, and… wait he’s traveling alone!

Before he can further process this fact, he’s hit at full speed by something light but very determined to take him down. Cantio yelps, a sound which rivals the high-pitch of a morning bird's call, and collapses into a pile of red and gold; there’s an unfortunate sounding snap when his violin case hits the ground before he does; and then, his body weight takes care of the rest with an equally unfortunate crunch.

Stunned, Cantio stares up at the canopy of the trees above, his fight-or-flight instincts in this moment having chosen to freeze, instead; this is it. This is the day he dies. The assassins have finally found him. He doesn't know what he did to piss them off!

But instead, he blinks when a concerned voice fills his ears. “...Huh?” his voice comes out in a bit of a squeak, and he clears his throat as he rolls into a sitting position. He seems dazed and confused; and flinches slightly when the fox-like stranger makes a move to come closer. “O-oh, no, I’m fine! Don’t worry about—”

Wait a second…

Cantio looks just past the fox-man, to the lavender shade of a familiar tiefling’s skin, and the flamboyancy, the horns… “Ah, Morrigan Moonweaver!?” he bubbles, his tail thumping against the ground in surprise. “Oh, thank goodness; the wizard of the wastes! Goodness, I thought you were a couple of assassins or something!” Cantio puts a hand to his chest, deflating with a sigh of relief, then seems to space out for a moment.

A tiny look of realization and panic flickers beneath the mask.

“Not that… I would expect that, just… sorry, you don’t really expect to get jumped in the forest, you know?” he apologizes quickly to Morrigan and the man he doesn’t recognize, his smile sheepish beneath the mask.

Let it be known for posterity that Morrigan could not be blamed for the ensuing tumble they took along with a weight that very much did not belong to a moth at all. The person they’d thrown themselves into gasped as the two fell unceremoniously to the ground, a loud SNAP ringing through the air upon impact with the dirt. The good news was that the figure under them broke Morrigan’s fall- the bad news was that, unfortunately, as Morrigan pulled themselves into a sitting position, they realized with a start that the red, mask-clad face staring back at them with wide eyes was very familiar indeed.

“Cantio Von Lumen?” Morrigan yelped, immediately scrambling upwards in an attempt to get into a sitting position. What in the world was he doing here? The last time Morrigan had run into him was when they’d helped him and that little spark of an elf Cirice Lunestre with their noble quest to join the mage’s guild, an endeavor that had ended in bitter disaster for them. They had not expected him to run into him so soon after that, or in quite a literal sense.

Morrigan’s tail flicked idly behind them as Cantio stammered out nervous apologies, pulling himself into a sitting position and readjusting the case strapped to his back. His violin? Morrigan remembered that he was a minstrel, though they’d rarely had the chance to hear him play. If that was the source of the snap, then Morrigan would not have much of a chance to anytime soon, either. As they pulled themselves up, something weird settled in Morrigan’s chest. Something like… not happiness over Cantio’s possession.

Huh. That was a weird feeling. It wasn’t even something of Morrigan’s own items, and for some reason, they felt… wrong about breaking it even though it hadn’t even been their fault. Somehow hurting Cantio felt like attacking a particularly small dog while it was down- Morrigan had to rectify this situation somehow. Yes. They’d have to get Cantio a nicer quality instrument, much better and stronger than whatever cheap piece of shit they’d just broken.

They fixed a charming smile on their face, holding out a hand to help Cantio up. “I have been granted many titles in my life, friend, but this is the first I’ve heard assassin amongst them.” They laughed. “You must forgive me to barreling into you in such a barbaric manner! You see, my friend here and I-“ They gestures towards Kvasir- “Are out on a quest of a particular nature, and after consumption of a potion designed to enhance my vision, I thought I saw a horrible, vicious spider on your back. Naturally, as a concerned citizen, I had to save you from a fate most venomous!”

They turned to Kvasir with a gleeful grin- it might have escaped their notice that there was genuine joy in their voice and excitement glimmering in their eye. “My dear medic, you must let me introduce you to an old friend of mine- scholar, minstrel, and mage extraordinaire, Cantio Von Lumen! He and I have fared many an adventure together.”

Most of them being duplicitous in nature on Morrigan’s end.

But that was all water under the bridge now, and what Cantio Von Lumen didn’t know would not be the death of him, surely!

To Cantio, they said, “And this is my dearest friend, partner in the Golden Consortium, and talented medic- Kvasir Sigurros. He and I were in search of a rare breed of magical moths when we had the pleasure of running into you! But tell me, minstrel, what business brings you so far into the woods on an evening like tonight?”

It is one thing to encounter an unusual stranger in the woods. It is not as uncommon or odd as one might assume; hell, Kvasir has met two of his favorite people out in the woods of Charon-- a certain sweet, eccentric, and terminally delightful Lunala fanatic in the heart of the Hauntwood, and then the very same glitter-clad diviner, enchanter, and apparent aspiring wrestler by his side in these very woods as well.

It is an entirely different thing, however, to encounter an unusual stranger in the woods that your own traveling partner apparently recognizes.

Kvasir blinks as soon as the masked tiefling's attention turns to Morrigan, his soft and sonorous voice melodic with relief and perhaps a little bit of what might be excitement before it crumbles right back into poorly-constrained panic over the assumption that they might have been assassins-- not that there would be assassins, naturally--, all in the prettiest and most anxious delivery he's ever heard. His voice is lovely to listen to, but it does little to mask the river of feelings he's currently sailing down; hell, it's almost enough to make Kvasir wonder if the carefully crafted scarlet-and-gold mask on his face is doing him any real favors in hiding much of anything at all.

Perhaps it's a bit of a harsh thought, and not one he likes lingering on too long. This stranger all in scarlet clearly likes Morrigan quite a bit, and Morrigan seems to share the sentiment, so any such analysis... really has no place here. As soon as Morrigan helps the stranger to his feet, Kvasir rises up as well, content to let the two who actually have any familiarity with one another handle helping each other up. He lifts a hand to his mouth, muffling a chittering laugh against his wrist as his dearly beloved enchanter launches off into a very obvious excuse about seeing a spider on their friend's back--

Only for the man to let out a panicked squeal, apparently not having processed the word "thought," and spin around to try and get a look or get it off or do whatever it is he's trying to do, smacking Morrigan squarely in the chest with his tail and knocking them to the earth all over again.

Should Kvasir be laughing or screaming?

"Spiders are lovely and helpful creatures, you know," he sighs, moving to help Morrigan up off the ground, shooting them a Look for the obvious lie. "I consider one to be a dear friend. You really shouldn't go launching yourself at people to try and slay spiders, my dear enchanter. It is nowhere near as valiant-looking as you might think."

Still, it's impossible to maintain even the illusion of exhaustion when Morrigan looks so genuinely happy, their whole face alight as they turn to him and introduce the other tiefling as Cantio von Lumen, and introduce him, in turn, back to Cantio. It is a good thing they have their back turned to him for the moment so they can address Cantio, because the second he is referred to as their "dearest friend," his face flushes ever so slightly, joyful embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

It is hardly the first time he's been called that, but he'll never get tired of it, all the same.

"...It is lovely to meet you, Cantio von Lumen," Kvasir says with a smile, extending a hand for Cantio to shake if he pleases. "Yes-- are you familiar with the Lantern Light Wood?"

Cantio looks between the two with a sheepish smile as he stands to his feet. He chuckles when Morrigan tells him that this is the first time anyone’s called them an assassin— which is fair— after all, Morrigan is a great wizard! Not an assassin! He’s about to respond, brushing stray blades of grass from his crimson overcoat when Morrigan tells him that they’d thought they’d seen a spider on his back.

Cantio sucks in a breath, brows furrowing and eyes widening beneath his mask as images of the Spider’s Canopy run through his mind; of clicking fangs, beady black eyes, and snapping jaws. The scars on his leg ache at the distant memory; a chill runs down his spine, through his shoulders, and into his fingertips.

Cantio chokes on a surprised squeal, spinning around so sharply that he feels his tail slam into something but he doesn’t bother to check what. “A spider!?” he yelps, yanking his violin off his shoulder and slamming it into the ground like it’s nothing more than a ragdoll. He bunches up, bristling as he stares at the casket of his poor violin, which if it wasn’t mangled before— is definitely mangled now.

He sees nothing on it, though.

He blinks a few times, looking under each of his boots, as if the spider might find its way there, before blinking up at Kvasir when he speaks. Cantio laughs nervously, “O-oh, I haven’t had the best experience with them,” he admits, looking quizzically at Morrigan when he realizes the tiefling is still on the ground— he’d thought he’d gotten up earlier, but perhaps they were tired? "So there's... there's not actually a spider, right?" Cantio’s shoulders are still tensed anxiously, fingers intertwined in front of himself sheepishly as Morrigan finally stands up and introduces him (goodness, what a flattering introduction! It almost makes him feel like he’s worth something) to their dearest friend, the medic and alchemist, Kvasir.

“O-oh! Yes, it’s really nice to meet you, too!” He stumbles over the words at first, offering him a smile as he reaches out with both hands and clasps Kvasir’s. “Any friend of the great wizard is a friend of mine!” He shakes Kvasir’s hand with a sort of anxiety-fueled enthusiasm, and looks between him and Morrigan. “Oh— me? Uh, well… I’ve been hearing rumours about some moths in the area, actually! They spin light-shimmering silk, or… something of that nature. I've actually never been here before.”

Cantio’s face grows a bit darker as he continues to explain, realizing his reasoning for being in the Lantern Light Woods must seem silly to such prestigious members of the Golden Consortium. “I, um… I make my own costumes for performances, so I wanted to see if I could get my hands on some of the silk to turn into fabric, or… something along those lines.” He looks back up at them, eager to get the spotlight off of him. “What are you doing? Something for the Consortium? Studies, or research, or… well, I don’t actually know much about the Consortium, actually— but I’m sure it’s important!”

The tried and true spider excuse had initially seemed like a good idea, but perhaps they’d underestimated their own ability to pluck lies from thin air in the heat of the moment… or maybe they’d simply overestimated Cantio Von Lumen’s bravery against even the most benign arachnids, because the second that the word spider left Morrigan’s lips, Cantio Von Lumen let out a rather shrill yelp, whirling around in search of the imaginary creature, tail whacking Morrigan square in the chest. The impact normally wouldn’t have done anything to someone with modicum of core strength, but Morrigan, who was not exactly famous for their physical prowess, was immediately knocked to the ground with all the grace of a turtle who’d been flipped onto the back of their shell.

“OOF-!” They grunted, pain lacing through their back from the impact, Cantio Von Lumen still frantically checking himself for the arachnid while Kvasir looked like he could not settle between amused or horrified at the entire ordeal.

Still, they pulled themselves to their feet, brushing off still the barely-luminescent leaves that had clung to their jacket, and picking out a few more that stuck to its fur. Despite the fact they’d just had the wind knocked out of them in an utterly embarrassing manner, they looked nonplussed, simply flashing Kvasir a charming, innocent grin, as if to say, who, me? “On the contrary, my dear enchanter, I happen to find spiders quite valuable.” Moreso than other animals, considering that the creepy little fuckers at least wielded venom, which was useful for potion components.

Still, after a firm look from Kvasir, and a couple more moments of panicking from the nervous minstrel, Morrigan rolled their eyes, grabbing Cantio by the shoulder to stop his spinning before the poor young man gave himself vertigo. “Ah, I must have been mistaken, my friend! Pay my warnings no heed - apparently, upon ingesting a potion to enhance my sight, it must have become a touch too sensitive, and the shadows of the bushes played tricks on me. There are no eight-legged friends here to haunt you.”

That flimsy excuse, at the very least, seemed to calm Cantio Von Lumen down, though Morrigan could feel Kvasir’s knowing gaze on their back until they quickly jumped to introductions, preventing either two from dwelling too long on Morrigan’s shit-awful excuses. The two seemed genuinely excited to meet one another, at least. How could they not? Both Kvasir and Cantio had plenty in common, not just limited to their proclivity for harnessing the magic of the sun. Both were kind and honest to a fault, and though Cantio still hadn’t managed to shake the nerves that plagued him, Morrigan could already tell they’d be fast friends.

They clapped their hands together before this entire scene could get too gushy. “Yes, yes, I’m sure we’ll all be very fast friends! How lovely!” Their ears perked as Cantio mentioned the accursed moths, though.

Pressing a theatrical hand, Morrigan draped themselves over Kvasir’s shoulder with a forlorn expression on their face that could only be described as a pout. “Well, you might be surprised to learn that Kvasir Sigurros and I have been sent here by the Consortium on a similar mission. These moths are in rather high demand… legend of their magical properties have apparently spread near and far. The Consortium wishes to study their silk as a potential material for light-weaving potions!”

Though, secretly, they couldn’t help but think that using the silk for clothes was far more entertaining.

Yet again, though, this was a rather fortunate encounter for Morrigan. They flashed Cantio Von Lumen a rather innocent smile, fluttering their eyelashes. “It seems that fate has made our paths to cross once more, my friend. Perhaps you’d be interested in joining us in our search? As they say, three heads are better than two!” They laughed joyously at their own joke, not bothering to wait from a reply from either medic or bard before setting back off for the path in a burst of glitter and impish laughter.

The choice, it seemed, had already been made for Cantio before he'd even had a chance to consider it.

For Kvasir, Morrigan already knew the answer. They didn’t need to look back to know the medic would follow them no matter what.

A look of surprise flashes across Kvasir's face at the way Cantio takes hold of his hand, clasping it between both of his own as though meeting him is some high honor, gilded eyes and pearlescent smile both shining with gentle excitement as he shakes his hand. It's... a little odd, really, to be regarded this way, like getting to meet him is something special, but it isn't the bad kind of odd-- it's just the kind that makes his words die on his tongue, shatters any carefully-calculated act he can form for a stranger, leaves him fumbling for a moment over just what he should say.

Despite the mask veiling part of Cantio's face from sight, he is astoundingly easy to read; anxiety pulses in the stuttered cadence of his voice, and yet it belies excitement, enthusiasm, genuine joy to meet a friend of a friend. There is a kindness that sits in his eyes, a sweetness in his voice despite his unease, and in spite of how strange it feels to be addressed like he is someone of any importance, how strange it is to warm to a stranger, Kvasir can already tell he's going to like him.

"...Just as any friend of my dear enchanter's is a friend of mine," he finally elects to say, piecing the shock-split fragments of his thoughts into cohesion, pulling the corners of his lips back into a smile-- a soft, earnest one, one befitting a man as gentle-spirited and open as Cantio von Lumen. "Well, ah... you could say Morrigan Moonweaver and I are quite familiar with these woods, at least, if that brings you any comfort."

His gaze snaps back to Morrigan as soon as they cut in, their hands clasped together in apparent delight over two companions of theirs having been brought so close together, a sparkle of interest alight in their pretty blue eyes as soon as they catch Cantio speaking of the very moths they'd been sent here to find. Oh, Kvasir knows that look, knows the way Morrigan gets when they catch sight of an opportunity, and one has so neatly presented itself before them; how convenient that a dear friend of theirs would be searching for the very thing they'd come out here to find, after all, wouldn't it merely make sense for them to join forces?

Kvasir can practically hear the offer being made before they speak it into being.

A hushed chuckle falls from his lips as Morrigan drapes themself over his shoulder with a theatrical flourish of their hand, ever the living embodiment of drama-- he merely lets them do as they wish, lets them fall all over him with a fondly exasperated smile as if it's where they belong. He opts to let them do the talking, not detracting from their spotlight as they lay forth their offer with a brilliant smile, and--

Aaaand there they go, off down the forest path with a joyous laugh and a handful of glitter, as if they already know Cantio and Kvasir will follow.

"...oh, Morrigan Moonweaver," he whispers to himself, shaking his head with a smile, viridian eye gleaming like sunlight through a canopy of leaves before he glances back to Cantio. "Ah, it really would be lovely if you'd join us, Cantio. We'd be happy for some additional company, I'm sure-- we both know these woods fairly well, too."

Kvasir takes a few steps forward, following after his beloved wizard slowly but surely, though he glances back to make sure Cantio isn't left behind, abandoned in the heart of some unfamiliar land without any way of navigating out.

It isn't like they have to worry about losing sight of Morrigan, after all-- there's practically a trail of glitter for that.

Cantio’s golden gaze betrays his relief at the revelation that there are, in fact, no spiders on him. “Oh… oh, that’s good.” he admits, tail swishing with a twitch of nervousness at the tip. “My sincerest apologies, I just… I traveled through the Spider’s Canopy with a companion one time, and there just…” he trails off at the memory; a chill creeps up his arms and down his spine, bristling the fur on the end of his tail as a result. “Ah, it… it wasn’t a good experience. Now even the littlest ones tend to give me a start.”

He looks apologetically from Morrigan, to Kvasir, whose hand he has clasped within both of his own. The bard’s smile is warm despite the nervous energy that emits from his voice and body language. “Oh! That’s wonderful, because I’ve never been in this stretch of the woods before.” he admits.

He squeezes Kvasir’s hand gratefully before releasing him and looks at Morrigan; his brows raise beneath the mask with interest at the mention of the moths. “Oh! Really!?” he wonders, clapping his hands together and looking between the two of them; he seems relieved, perhaps even thrilled, at the prospect of joining the wizard of the wastes and his very good friend. “If you don’t mind, I would— o-oh, you’re leaving, okay!”

He doesn’t finish, tail swaying in surprise when Morrigan starts to trot away with a flourish of glitter.

Gods, they’re so cool! He wishes he could make dramatic exits just like that.

Starstruck, Cantio gleefully swoops after the lavender tiefling, and grabs the strap of his violin case— which is rattling much more than it should— but somehow, the red tiefling doesn’t notice it. He slings it back around his shoulders like it’s not turned into a sorry excuse for a maraca while being smashed around.

There’s a playful skip in his step as he catches up to Kvasir and follows behind Morrigan; his tail does most of the talking for the tiefling’s mental state, swaying and swishing with a contentment often seen in felines. He looks at Kvasir with a soft smile while he speaks; and then, the tiefling’s smile disappears suddenly, and he gasps. “Oh! Kvasir Sigurros! You’re the other sexy lady!”

It would be understandable after having been cut through with that particular line of thought with absolutely no context or lead up for the atmosphere to flatline at that exact moment.

Cantio hardly seems to think that’s a weird thing to exclaim though, because he breaks into a melodic laugh; he covers his mouth with one hand and looks at Kvasir with a smile. “Morrigan told us all about your infiltration into a… what was it, a love potion ring?” There it is, there’s the context; it's just fashionably late. “I thought your name sounded familiar, but it didn’t hit me until just now. I thought you must have been a lovely person by the way the wizard spoke about you, and I was right— you are! It really is nice to meet you; I'm honoured to be able to travel with you and the wizard both!”

As usual, there was a spring in Morrigan’s step as they made their way down the path. Their dour mood seemed to have dissipated, even despite the fact that they had been sent after a bunch of horrible insects, and that they’d been knocked to the ground with possibly the only person in the entirety of Charon who was Morrigan’s match in strength. It was like they said - misery was better with company, or however hell the saying went. Leaves crunched under their feet, completely unguarded as they strolled through the woods. Given that last time they were here, they’d been rather unceremoniously mauled by a displacer beast the last time they were here, one would think they’d react with a little prudence. But Morrigan wasn’t someone who got bogged down by looking back at their past mistakes. Gods, who would ever bore themselves thinking back on the past?

That was why they charged forth, deeper into the Lantern Light Woods, unarmed, and completely unaware of any justified maulings at the hands of savage forests beasts. They were partially keeping an eye out for moth nests, or whatever the hell moths slept in, only half-listening to what Cantio Von Lumen and Kvasir were talking about. They perked up at the mention, however, of Kvasir’s rather striking feminine appearance.

Oh, that’s right, they recalled. I must have mentioned it to Cantio Von Lumen when I tried to cheat my way into the mage’s guild!

“You are entirely correct, my good minstrel!” Morrigan whirled around, pulling the familiar, age-old maneuver in which they walked backwards while talking, never once breaking their stride. “Kvasir Sigurros makes a rather striking woman. When I met her, I was momentarily struck blind, forced to wonder if I’d accidentally been transported into the realm of the fey. In that moment, I would gladly have partaken in any forbidden fruit if it meant getting to stay in fairy queen Khatmi’s kingdom.”

They’d already told this story to Cantio Von Lumen before, but he’d unfortunately stumbled upon Morrigan’s first and second favorite subjects to speak about - themselves, and Kvasir Sigurros. He had inadvertently opened the floodgates for yet another monologue.

“Kvasir Sigurros and I braved the vixens of the Capitol Landing to break up the illicit potion-making ring run by a deadly woman known as Mama Tempeste in a tale of love and loss and fraught with explosions.” As they walked, even though they had moved deeper into the woods, their surroundings grew… brighter. They hadn’t even seemed to notice that they were delving deeper into a glade, not dissimilar to the one where Morrigan and Kvasir had once harvested dusk’s kiss together. But this particular glade was more of a garden, wild flowers of all shapes and sizes sprouting from the grass. Birds and insects flitted around from flower to flower, including rather large, furry winged creatures that matched the description of the moths they’d been given.

Morrigan was utterly oblivious to their sudden change in scenery, still entranced by this second retelling of their story.

“Of course, Kvasir Sigurros is nothing if not a talented medic and always has my back in a pinch. He protected me from the wicked sirens and prevented me from dying a most heinous death by love bombs. Trust me, Cantio Von Lumen. In this quest to seek the ever-elusive moths of the Lantern Light Woods, you are in good hands-“

That was the precise moment Morrigan Moonweaver was knocked over for the second time that day by an insect hurtling at them with inhuman speeds, latching right onto the side of their face.

There are a lot of ways Kvasir expected this conversation to go.

Considering Morrigan and Cantio seem to be old friends, it's entirely unsurprising that his beloved wizard may have elected to mention him a few times-- they spent a near-ludicrous amount of time together, really, and carried out the majority of their work for the Consortium together. Their lives had become so deftly intertwined that Kvasir couldn't quite imagine his life without Morrigan Moonweaver in it, even if the possibility still lingered that the feeling wasn't quite mutual-- even so, he figures it's fair to assume that Cantio might have heard his name once or twice, if they really had crossed paths before.

But of all the ventures Morrigan had regaled their fellow tiefling of, why did the very first one seem to be their little infiltration mission in Sol City?!

A subtle rush of scarlet floods over Kvasir's cheeks at Cantio's choice in words-- sexy lady? Did Morrigan really think of him that way, or was that a dramatic exaggeration?--, eye widening just slightly in surprise before narrowing with faux indignation, his lips pursed in a slight pout as he glances back over to Morrigan, who wears that same infuriating and lovely smile as always, sky-blue eyes flashing ever so impishly. It isn't as if Kvasir was necessarily embarrassed by their whole venture that night; it had ended well, and gender presentation is something he cares little for, happy to don any feature or article of clothing as long as it feels right, but he knows based on the flicker in those eyes that they must have done the forbidden.

They mentioned the bra potions, hadn't they?

"Ah, so that's the story they chose to share, huh," he murmurs, trying to will away the crimson flood from his cheeks as Morrigan chatters on about the night's wild events, though really, hearing their soft praise only stirs that vermilion up higher. "I... well, thank you very much for your kindness, Cantio. It's... sweet to know that both of you seem to think highly of me."

And really, it is-- Kvasir isn't sure he'll ever know what to do with the gratitude or admiration or benevolence of others, not in the way he's become quite forcibly acquainted with in the past few months. It is strange to be someone worth noting, to be the kind of person people speak fondly of when he isn't there, the kind of person people carry in their hearts and their memories as if he belongs there. It is strange, but... it is hardly the bad kind. No, far from.

He's about to open his mouth with some quick retort to fire off at Morrigan, wanting to douse the notion that he's anything special before they can fan the flames, but just as he moves to speak, his thoughts are scattered by the incredibly odd sight of a pink and canary-yellow shape whizzing forward and crashing right into Morrigan, almost too fast to catch. All Kvasir can do is blink as soon as the sight settles, as soon as he's able to reconcile the strange little shape clinging to Morrigan's face with what it is-- a moth with wings and fluff the colors of carnations and daffodils.

...he's not entirely sure moths are meant to be especially violent creatures, though.

"Morrigan Moonweaver?" he practically squawks, shock thrumming in his voice. "Uh? I... think we found one of the moths?"

Cantio’s smile brightens when Morrigan whirls around to face them; his tail sways with a leisure that he had previously lacked upon their first introduction; but truth be told, he is simply thrilled to meet both Morrigan, and his very good friend! It puts the whole spider thing (and his dreadfully broken violin) in the back of his mind. “Oh-of course!” he agrees, offering Kvasir a smile.

“I hope you don’t mind— you’re very beautiful! Your sense of style, your hair— It’s no wonder the wizard talks so warmly of you.” He cocks his head at the man before looking towards Morrigan to offer his attention to their story.

He’s captivated by it despite having heard it once— Morrigan Moonweaver has such a way of weaving tales that would make any bard envious! He could listen to the same story forever so long as it was embellished with Morrigan’s flamboyant tone and generous gestures. “Oh!?” Cantio remarks, looking intrigued. “Kvasir, you’re a medic? I actually would love to—” before he can finish what he wants to say; although, it could be noted that the revelation of Kvasir being a medic seems exciting to some degree; Morrigan is suddenly at their feet with a thump.

“Wah!” Cantio jumps, pulling back one leg sharply to avoid getting knocked over by the smaller tiefling. “Oh! Oh gosh, Morrigan? Are you okay— oh, hi!” He finds himself staring down at a beautiful pink moth clinging to Morrigan’s face like it has nowhere better it could want to be. “Is this one of the moths? Wow, they are just —“ he cuts off when he feels a small weight drop onto his head, and looks up to find two wide black eyes looking back at him. “— Oh! Hello!”

A rose-colored moth, its fluffy antennae twitching as it draws its arms up and runs them across the feathers to clean it, seems to have perched on one of his horns! He feels blessed. “Aw… we must be getting close, yeah?” The tiefling’s tail wags back and forth like a hound’s, delighted to be a branch to this weird little guy cleaning itself on his head. “The rest of them couldn’t be too far away if there’s stragglers here! Oh— uh, Morrigan? You okay?”

After a moment, he seems to remember they do in fact have a downed tiefling.

Morrigan Moonweaver was, in fact, not okay. In fact, they were in the process of dying.

Well, it would be more accurate to say they were currently in the process of dying.

While Cantio Von Lumen and Kvasir were having a much more pleasant time with the moths of the glade, Morrigan’s own experience was far more hellish. They couldn’t see anything with the little creature currently latched onto their face, scratching at their cheeks with little pointed claws, and tiny teeth nipping at their nose. Did moths even have claws and teeth? Who gave a shit? They needed to get this damned thing off of them!

What Morrigan had no clue was that this creature wasn’t truly a moth at all - merely an impostor cloaked in fuzzy fur and hot pink wings. An adorable little mephit menace, who had been hiding amongst the moths of the lantern light woods in search of something entertaining and pulling pranks on unsuspecting travelers. But the glade had been dreadfully boring… up until the moment that it spotted something different enter the moth’s home. A big, purple, sparkly thing that was loud and flashy. What fun! The mephit was intrigued by the thing. It wanted to have fun. It wanted to play a prank.

Unfortunately for Morrigan Moonweaver, a mephit’s idea of playing a prank was to brutally maim whatever unfortunate traveler had caught its eye.

“Get this thing off of me!” Morrigan shouted, but with a mouthful of mephit-moth fuzz in their mouth, it sounded more like “GERFOFMFF!”

They rolled around on the ground, trying to get this leech off of them while the other two went on and had a downright pleasant time with the winged, fuzzy creatures. Attempts to pry the moth off of their face with their hands alone had failed - Morrigan resorted to using their tail, angling the appendage so they could whack at the thing’s back and attempt to dislodge it.

Oh, but the little feisty motherfucker fought back.

“ACK!” The thing scratched at their open eyeball, forcing them to close it and prevent blood from clouding their vision. Really, beyond the pain from the creature’s attacks, was the stinging humiliation that they were fighting and losing. To a cat-sized moth.

Oh, this was hell.

Well, two could play at that game. Morrigan raised their hand, the nails on the tips of their fingers sharpening into fine points. If this little shit was going to scratch, then Morrigan was going to scratch right back. They dug their claws into the mephit moth’s wings, managing to dig into flesh and get a hold of the creature. It let out a squeal of surprised pain, loosening its grip just enough that Morrigan could tear it off of their face.

“Gotcha, you little fucker!” They uttered, holding the thing at arm’s length.

Meanwhile, the pink mephit had gone limp in Morrigan’s arms in surprise. It had not expected the purple thing to play back! It was a friend! The not-moth let out another squeal, this time of delight, as it wriggled its little legs in the air while staring at Morrigan with wide eyes. Morrigan held it by the scruff of its furry neck, glowering at it.

“Oh, don’t you give me that shit, you infernal thing!” Morrigan wagged its finger in the moth’s face, prompting the beast to nip at him, nearly biting down on their finger before Morrigan pulled away. “Hey, no biting! You little wretched creature…”

Actually, now that it wasn’t trying to kill Morrigan, they could admit that… it was actually kind of… cute. It had those big, black eyes and fun, vibrant colors that stood out against a backdrop. And it had spirit! Something cold in Morrigan’s heart melted, years of mutual animal hatred beginning to wane. This little thing had tried to kill them, sure, but look! It was just kind of… standing there now! Morrigan couldn’t remember the last time an animal had gotten so close to them, much less within petting distance.

They turned to Kvasir with wide eyes, almost childlike in their innocence - like a kid who’d been given their first puppy.

“Kvasir. Kvasir. I think I want to keep it.”

As if agreeing, the little moth wriggled out of Morrigan’s hand and latched onto the sleeve of their jacket with its teeth, whole body suspended in the air while they gnawed on the fabric.

---

FRIEND ACQUIRED

Kvasir really, truly would love to resume this conversation with Cantio.

He seems like a sweet guy– he’s mild-mannered, gentle, his voice and his golden eyes alike soft as a feather, and despite the shock he’d given Kvasir with the very sudden declaration that he was the Other Sexy Lady, he’s been very good company. When all of this is said and done, before they part ways, Kvasir is going to need to write down his address for the sake of further correspondence; he hasn’t had as much time for travel as he once did, after all, and he finds that letters are a surprisingly good way to keep in touch when one really has anyone to keep in touch with at all. It leaves traces of your chatter, indication of all the things you’ve spoken of, proof that there was and is a connection between you, and…

Yes. Kvasir has decided he likes letters quite a bit.

But that is hardly his focus right now.

What is is the strangely aggressive, colorful little (well, not so little) moth feverishly biting at Morrigan Moonweaver’s face, their finger, their clothing, anything the rose-and-lemon insect can dig its unusually pointy little teeth into– Kvasir isn’t sure he’s ever seen a moth perform acts of violence like that before. He’s already halfway through reaching for his bow, debating whether or not his marksmanship is precise enough to successfully strike the moth-monster without harming Morrigan, wondering if there’s any good moral reason to warrant attacking the thing beyond his suspicion, when Morrigan manages to peel it off their face and turns to Kvasir with those big, sparkling blue eyes and says–

“What do you mean, you want to keep it?!”

He has no intention of sounding quite as exasperated as he does, but oh, he cannot help it; only Morrigan Moonweaver could look at a glamorous creature that just tried to eat their face and somehow be endeared enough by it to decide they want to keep it. How did they even arrive at that conclusion? It makes absolutely no sense!

It’s difficult to miss the way Kvasir’s eye twitches as he looks to Cantio for a word of wisdom, of stability, only to find that the other fellblood also has a large moth perched on top of his head– this one, however, seems significantly less violent, content to quietly clean itself off from where it’s nestled between his horns. Cantio hardly seems at all bothered by the little creature, either, his tail swishing back and forth in contentment, and once a few moments have trickled by and the critter has made no move to attempt to devour Cantio’s face, Kvasir lets himself relax.

So only Morrigan attracted the bizarre flesh-eating one. Right.

“...right, lovely,” he murmurs. “Why do you want to keep a creature that just tried to peel you like a piece of Rose Ginger? Have you lost your mind?”

Of course, in his aggravation, with his tail puffed up and his brow furrowed, the fox-man hardly seems to notice as one final moth enters the picture– a dark-colored creature with sleepy golden eyes and wings like autumn leaves, contentedly settling in place on the quiver at the doctor’s back, peering over his shoulder at the other two strangers in the woods. Gods know when he’s going to notice.

Cantio can’t help but laugh; he covers his mouth with curled fingers while Morrigan rolls around in the grass. “I think it likes you, Morrigan.” He encourages, only seconds after the world’s most inelegant sound of, “GERFOFMFF” is introduced into the universe. 

Tiny tip-taps travel to the base of his horns and then to the top of his head. The pink moth wiggles its antennae; and then rubs its wings together. Cantio cannot see it, but he feels the displacement of its tiny weight. He doesn’t really mind it at all, honestly.

He watches Morrigan struggle with the moth— but he is certain that Morrigan Moonweaver, Wizard of the Wastes, can hold their own in a battle against such a cute and fluffy creature of the forest.

And as expected, they do!

Cantio watches Morrigan raise the moth off their face— scolding it— before almost immediately turning to Kvasir and asking them to keep it. Cantio can’t help but chuckle, looking at Kvasir with bemusement over Morrigan’s curious interaction— when he realizes that something’s a bit off about the man’s silhouette that he most certainly didn’t notice before…

Are those two extra eyes? Two big, sleepy eyes peering over Kvasir’s shoulder?

A somewhat childish, but wide grin crosses Cantio’s face at the sight of the drowsy little fellow hitching a ride on the fox man's back, while Kvasir scolds Morrigan.

“Um, Kvas— bbwbgh.” Cantio devolves into sound as the moth— previously on his head— proceeds to climb off of his head and directly onto his face, muffling what he was trying to say.

Cantio awkwardly waits until the moth continues, which… takes a moment. One can almost see the braincells turning in its little head as it considers its next move, before it just continues crawling diagonally to get to his shoulder. Cantio just, raises one finger as if to say, 'one moment' without speaking, until the moth finally steps off of his face. “Pbbth. Pfft.” He sputters, plucking a golden— what is this, a feather?— off his tongue. He furrows his brows quizzically at it before flicking it aside. "Thank you for that."

He clears his throat, “Kvasir, it— mmph.” He stops again as the moth on his shoulder— perched weirdly with two of its feet on the side of his neck, and the other four on his shoulder— rubs its wings together. The angle that the moth is standing at, however, causes its wings to flap against the side of his face. “Pfft— you’ve got a hitchhiker, Kvasir!”