Ever plagued by intense heat waves, raging stand storms, and angry brutes desperate for resources and coin, the Zeinav desert is a harsh place to venture through, and equally as difficult to live in. That said, life finds a way and the Oasis is no better example of that. The large body of water in the middle of the arid region has a thriving community catering to and providing respite for the many caravans, bandits, and travelers crossing the harsh sand desert.

Despite the challenges of reaching this locale, businesses have managed to flourish as customers are drawn to the verdant coast of the only inland source of freshwater for miles. Whether people find their way here on purpose or by chance, they are quick to appreciate those who have set up shop in this area, providing essential services so desperately needed by anyone who has traversed the dunes to reach the Oasis. 

While comparably more quiet than the bustling Zeinav City with its crowded ports and bustling markets, the hours shortly after dusk are often more lively than the daylight hours even in the remote Oasis. As the temperatures cool, many are eager to take advantage of the reprieve from the scorching heat and go about doing their socializing and shopping. It is not uncommon for large markets filled with pop up tents and street vendors to just come alive into the late hours of the night. 

Though these night markets may be a big draw to many visitors of the Oasis, or Zeinav in general, two travelers are in search of a more permanent business.

Zarius leads Caedes through the darkened streets of the Oasis, careful to avoid any Zeinav Corps patrols wandering about. They were there looking for a specific apothecary run by a curious fox man by the name of Kvasir. The Desert Rose. 

The tiefling had tried to visit Kvasir and the Desert Rose once before. However, that did not go as he had hoped thanks to the abrupt arrival of a very forward angel woman who did a bang up job of scaring the herbalist and some lost kid off. To say he wasn't sour about what happened would be a lie. He at least made the best of the situation that he could. Hopefully this time there wouldn't be any other colorful individuals without basic manners to interrupt this time.

Carefully checking around the corner of a building, the smell of incense, perfumes and various cooked street foods wafts from the nearby night market. All was clear as most of the people were too absorbed in their shopping and bartering to notice the pair moving about in the shadows, nearly invisible and silent while under the cover of darkness. 

After passing by a few more streets, they finally come to the front of the Desert Rose without any incident.

The tiefling turns to Caedes with a teasing grin. "Well, as promised, we made it here without you burning to a crisp out in the desert."

He was grateful to have Caedes traveling with him. It would have been a much more boring journey if he had made it alone and it wasn't often that he got to do anything with the changeling that wasn't related to their work. They both needed this break, regardless of if they wanted to admit it or not. 

It was a little strange. Eameia had been very eager to encourage them to go on the trip together. He has to admit his sister has already been spending too much time with Kamille and had already picked up some bad habits.

Well.

To be fair to Kamille, Eameia already had those habits, but now she had someone to conspire with. That seemed to only make her teasing of her brother worse. At least that's what it felt like from Zarius' perspective. Sometimes he had no idea what was going through his sister's head, and it only mildly troubled him.

Zarius steps up to the door of the storefront, it looked like there were some lights on inside, so they weren't yet closed. 

"It has been a while since you last saw Kvasir, right?" He asks over his shoulder to Caedes. "I would be surprised you have not tried to visit him yourself yet, but then again you have to worry about your delicate complexion." The tiefling chuckles to himself as he opens the door and steps into the building. A chime above the door rings as the door passes under it. 

As dusk falls, the temperatures begin to drop.

Thank the gods.

There are few things in life that he can declare proudly that he truly hates; but extreme heat and extreme cold both make it onto that list with confidence and grandeur. Granted, he’s never liked them anyways— but after his body had lost its ability to regulate temperature— both are so much worse, now.

… Which is why he’s grateful that Zarius bothered to take it into account during their trip through Zeinav.

Indeed, he has managed to avoid letting the changeling roast in the merciless Zeinavian sun; and has settled for just steaming him, instead.

Honestly it’s not a massive improvement, but he’ll take it.

Caedes looks around beneath the shaded hood of his black cloak as they walk; each step he takes in the breadth of the darkness is soundless. He is really just a simple shadow cast from Zarius’ lead; his hooded pale eyes glance about the bustling night market of the Oasis. The scents of incense and perfumes mingle with the smell of cooked meats and street foods— all of which do smell incredibly appetizing— but which he knows are bound to taste of disappointment.

… to him, anyways.

All the small joys in life are the price of undeath, he supposes.

Someone who is interested in the smell of food, however, is the little tagalong resting comfortably on his back. Charlotte pops her head out from beneath the shadows of his cloak, resting her head on his shoulder and looking towards the nearest street vendor with curiosity.

If they weren’t trying to keep a low profile, she looks like she might want to say something.

He reaches up beneath Charlotte’s head to give her a playful jostle; the spider squints her eight eyes shut, leaning her head into his hand as he follows along with Zarius through the shadows— silent and near-invisible to the throngs of people who’ve gathered in the cool dusk air.

And, before long, they’re making the last corner to the Desert Rose.

Kvasir Sigurros.

It’s been a while since he’s last seen him— but at least he’s seeing him on better terms.

Internally, Caedes waves the last time away because it wasn’t exactly… well, they had still been on good terms; it was he and Zarius who had been on some less than gracious terms.

Frankly, it’s a miracle their business relationship had gotten through that entire ordeal with only minor wounds to recover from.

He slows to a stop when the tiefling turns to him, eyes narrowing mischievously when he sees Zarius already has that grin on his face. He breathes a laugh at his comment, returning his grin with one of his own, “Wow, and not a single angel woman waiting to ambush you in sight… seems like we’re both in luck.” he teases back, ending his jaunt with a chuckle.

Zarius is all too willing to play along sometimes; allowing him to poke fun at the tiefling who otherwise seems so resolute in his usual work environment. Really, it's a nice little change of pace to escape from Darkveil; Zarius keeps himself busy, and in turn, so does he. While they can reconvene in the lobby of the Rookery, or speak within the confines of Zarius' office— it's rarely about anything more than work.

When was the last time they'd had a break, anyways?

He honestly can't recall; but it is nice to talk nonsense and jab at the tiefling... even if it happens to be in the brutal heat of the desert.

It makes the trip and the gods forsaken heat significantly more bearable.

“It has been a while.” he admits when Zarius questions him; the pale man breathes a laugh at his taunting and offers him a glance through narrowed eyes. “Ohhh, well excuse me; some of us run the risk of turning into a sad pile of ash in the sun. How are you not bothered by the heat, anyways?” he breathes an exaggerated, overdramatic sigh as he steps into the building after Zarius. “Being here almost makes me miss the frigid temperatures in Frost Gale.”

After a small pause, he emphasizes: "Almost."

With Hearth’s Day coming up, the apothecary had been a flurry of activity while Kvasir and Morrigan prepared for their trip down to Moonglade. To be honest, the stillness made Morrigan antsy. They were not someone who stood still for long periods of time - this kind of homely life, as much as Kvasir seemed happy at the Apothecary, didn’t suit them the same way. They longed for the freedom that the road granted them, to feel a little less stifled and… strange about this sweet little domestic existence.

Naturally, this itch was the exact reason why Morrigan had decided to pull another little prank.

Perhaps most rational people would learn from their mistakes when a joke devolves into a horrible, chaotic mishap that scarred a child and scarred Kvasir even more. But most people were not Morrigan Moonweaver, who never stopped to ask if reusing the same joke was a bad idea. In fact, it was perfect! Hearth’s Day was fast approaching, the season of love and romance - what better time to startle Kvasir with a fake, sexy romance? That was why, when Kvasir stepped out to get groceries, Morrigan decided to recreate the very same scene that had nearly given Kvasir a heart attack.

They were about halfway done when Morrigan jolted upwards in a moment of clarity. “Wait a minute, what am I even doing? This is stupid.” They smacked their forehead, staring down at the candles in disappointment. “It’s Hearth’s Day! I need to amp it up!”

As if a fire had been lit under them, Morrigan darted in their room, gathering the new materials for their costume. Yes, this was going to be even better. It took some struggling getting everything for their costume ready when Morrigan heard the front door opening, and got into position.

The two visitors that had just entered the apothecary would be treated to the sight of a scantily-clad tiefling draped over the floor, only a baby pink cloth secured around their waist, and a lot of fake angelic wings made of downy feathers secured on their back. In their hands was a small, fake bow in their hands complete with a small toy arrow notched on the string, an imitation of the cherubim patron saint of Hearth’s Day. Rose petals littered the floor, and a box of heart-shaped chocolates sat open in front of them. Morrigan rolled around on the floor, brandishing the bow with a flourish, turning to face the two that had just come through the door.

“Welcome home, my Desert Ro-oly shit!”

Except, once again, neither of the people who’d just entered the room were Kvasir.

Why the hell did this keep happening?

In their surprise, Morrigan flinched and accidentally fired the toy in their hands. Unable to stop the projectile once they’d fired it, the toy arrow soared through the air, hitting the ash-skinned tiefling’s forehead with a dull THUNK before clattering lamely on the floor.

He did not look impressed.

“Why the in the name of Ginma does no one tell me when we’re having visitors over?” Morrigan screeched, pulling themselves up into a sitting position. Their tail knocked the chocolates to the ground, and in their haste to cover themselves up, they probably gave the tiefling and the pale man a view of something they would much rather not see. But honestly, it wasn’t even Morrigan’s fault that Kvasir was some hot commodity with so many friends! Maybe if he stopped inviting them over then Morrigan would stop accidentally exposing their bare ass to complete strangers in a series of elaborate and thoroughly enjoyable pranks!

Still seated on the floor, clutching the thin gossamer sheet over their waist, Morrigan glowered up at the two like they were in any position to be making demands. “Who the hell are you two? And what are you doing here?”

Kvasir Sigurros is, to some degree, a creature of routine.

He is not the sort to plan everything down to its finest detail, not the type to fall to pieces when something happens a minute too early or too late or when he has to move one thing around to accommodate another, but he does value order-- he is meticulous about maintenance of the Desert Rose's greenhouse, precise about charting the longevity of runes and the necessary measures for their upkeep, particular about keeping a steady supply of specific salves and herbs and potions available, so on and so forth. When ordinary people come to you with the knowledge that you have the power to help them and the trust in you to let you do so, it is vital that you ensure that trust is not misplaced-- that they are placing their health in the safest and most capable hands imaginable.

It's only natural that his schedule is precise, as a result; rune maintenance of the greenhouse must come on Wednesdays, in the middle of the week, all to ensure that the enchantments that keep the plants running in their ideal environments stay intact. Tuesday and Thursday are ideal nights for resupplying, for spending a few extra hours he could have spent asleep brewing potions or mixing medicines or creating whatever else may be necessary to keep supply numbers stable. Sundays are best for deep cleaning the storefront and the office, all to ensure a sterile environment and bleach the place of any stray glitter.

Fridays, as it turns out, are ideal for more personal goals; they've become Kvasir's favored days to step out into the trading outposts of the Oasis for groceries and other such things, a good opportunity to pick up any produce or spices vendors are peddling, and perhaps to sneak one or two less necessary things in as well-- kohl and pigments, floral oils, pearls brought in from the Crescent Isle, if he's fortunate enough to find them. It's become something of a comforting way to wrap up one of the busier days of the week.

This particular Friday, though, he'd spent perhaps a bit longer than anticipated out in the marketplace-- an inevitability, really, considering his impending travel plans with Morrigan. It's difficult to plan what things are worth purchasing when you intend to leave for a while, after all-- the last thing he wants is for anything to rot before they return home from Eclipse City. So some meticulous planning had turned into idle wondering, idle pacing over what was worth buying and what would certainly go bad before they could use it, and before Kvasir knew it, the sun was already hanging low on the horizon, a dusting of rose kissing the sandy edges of the distance, and he'd only managed to run a little over half of his intended errands.

Whoops.

It is not often that his hold on routine loosens so. Usually, when it does, it is under harsher circumstances, but this time he's merely being scatterbrained due to excitement, his coherency of thought cast to the wind as carelessly as a shaky handful of sand. Ah, well-- it just means he'll have to take a second trip out to the outposts come the following morning.

A soft, aimless hum spills from his lips as he walks the sandstone pathways, the distant golden glare of the dying sun the last bit of light he has to go on beyond the enticingly warm flicker of lamplight from his home's doorway. It isn't too bad of a walk, and he's fond of the serenity of the desert nights, so perhaps his lapse in thought could merely be considered a bit of a blessing in disguise, as those pious types put it. It is nice to wander in the chill of night with the stars alone as a witness, their glow pale and timid as they creep into sight, the Desert Rose haloed in that silver-gold light...

...

Hm. Kvasir had most certainly not forgotten to close the door when he had departed, earlier.

As soon as the apothecary comes into sight, the front door visibly open, a slight uneasy feeling takes root in Kvasir's heart, washing away the tranquil mood he'd been in quite readily. He hastens his pace, quick to turn the corner and--

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Morrigan Moonweaver," he practically hisses, though the sound is more embarrassed than truly scathing, his tail bristling and his ears pressed back as he gets an eyeful of a scantily-clad Morrigan in the midst of a garden of candles and petals, a horrifying echo of the last time they'd done this, all while two other familiar figures stand a short distance away. He huffs, moving one hand to effortlessly unlatch his cloak, the beaded clasp coming undone in one quick and precise motion, and he throws it at his dearly-beloved half-naked nightmare at full force. "For the love of Solaria, cover. Up."

The edge of anger quickly ebbs away from his voice as he turns to face Zarius and Caedes, color rising to his cheeks no matter how he tries to fight off the embarrassment.

"I am so, so sorry," he says lowly before forcing a nervous laugh, his voice high with strained enthusiasm as he continues to speak. "I... I wasn't expecting company, tonight. I wasn't expecting that, either. Ah... it's good to see you both, though...!"

Zarius is rarely stunned into silence. But the sight of a basically naked purple tiefling rolling about on the apothecary’s floor is so out of nowhere and nonsensical that his brain just stops working for a moment. He snaps out of it as the fake arrow plinks against his forehead before clattering to the floor. His eyes narrow and his usually friendly smile turns into the most unimpressed expression he could make.

What the fuck was all this about?

He is fairly confident that they didn’t have the wrong location. Glancing around the room they were definitely in a business that catered to selling medicines, salves, potions, and herbs. The scent was unmistakable.

But this guy. Who the fuck was this guy and why was he butt-ass naked on the floor while the shop was open? Just what kind of business was Kvasir running here?

Speak of the foxman and he shall appear. Seeing Kvasir was reassuring that they weren't mistaken and had accidentally walked into some weird alchemist themed bordello. The man looked just as shocked about the situation as the two of them were. So did that mean this nudist broke in or was stalking the herbalist? If that was the case, he would happily kick the purple cupid out on the street for Kvasir. Might even give him a few welts as payback for the terrible view and shooting him in the face.

He can hear Caedes' snickering to his side. 

“Not. A. Word.” He hisses at the changeling.

He picks up the fake arrow from the floor and flicks it at the purple tiefling as he scrambles to cover up his rear. “If you are the shop’s security, you might want to sharpen that.”

Turning to Kvasir, he puts on a friendly smile.

"My apologies for dropping in unexpectedly. I assumed your shop was still open for business even during the twilight hours." Then he glances at Morrigan before giving Kvasir a curious head tilt with a more teasing smirk on his face. "Or do you cater to a different crowd after the sun goes down?"

The chance to tease the foxman was just too good to pass on, he couldn't help himself. Though he doesn't know Kvasir particularly well, he does think that the man has useful skills and an easy to get along with personality. Though he clearly had his secrets and ghosts from his past, the man was ultimately very reliable. It helped that Caedes also had no gripes with the herbalist, and Charlotte definitely was fond of him as well. 

Zarius still wants to ask Kvasir about what the angel woman had said, but that could wait. It seemed that Kvasir had his hands full with enough as it was. 

"You know, Kvasir. If this man is harassing you, we would be happy to help get rid of him."

Zarius makes the offer, though what exactly he means as far as 'get rid of him' is left to the imagination. Between himself and Caedes, there were many possible fates for anyone who crossed one of their allies and drew their ire. Few of those fates ended well for the perpetrator.

—- what in the name of Ginma’s fuzzy horse ass is going on in this place?

Caedes stops dead in his tracks beside Zarius; he balks, instinctively covering Charlotte’s eight eyes with a shocked jolt at the sight of a tiefling dressed (a generous description) with only a pastel pink cloth around their waist. The picture-perfect image of a cherubim… if cherubim were a lavender tiefling draped intimately and shamelessly across the floor showered in rose petals and down feathers. Which they are not.

Are they in the right place?

Because it sure feels like they’re in the wrong place.

Plink!

He blinks, looking at Zarius when the cherubim’s fake arrow clatters lamely on the stone after hitting him in the forehead with a muted thud.

“...”

That’s it.

That’s the last straw.

He cannot possibly take anymore of this absurdity with a straight face; and Zarius’ thorough lack of amusement with the situation only makes it all the funnier.

Like a switch has flipped, Caedes’ shock devolves into choking on a laugh. He covers his mouth with his other hand to stifle his snickering; but buckles over, his laughter becoming only more prominent when Zarius hisses back at him to not say anything— god, he wants to say something— but he can’t stop chortling for long enough to get anything out that doesn’t sound like a string of nonsense equivalent to this nonsensical situation.

He takes his other hand away from Charlotte’s eyes (followed by a very tiny and confused, “_Oh!”) to wave dismissively at Zarius while he backs against the wall near the doorway, leaving room in the entrance for Kvasir to come flying in with his cloak practically at the ready to cover the early rise of a full moon.

In contrast to Zarius’ assumptions, this seems almost like some kind of intimate gesture of a Hearth Day surprise gone wrong to him… very likely because it was taking place in the storefront, which… yeah, obviously this would happen. He takes a sharp breath, trying to calm down while Zarius and Kvasir talk; the only thing which prompts him to leave the stability of the wall is Charlotte’s excited wiggling— he knows she's been excited to see Kvasir.

“Fuck’s sake…” he breathes as he steps back into the conversation. “Did we interrupt something? Should we leave you two alone?” He’s still snickering, but calming down in contrast to his initial outburst. “Because we can come back in a few hours when the full moon's not out in full force.” His tone is playful and taunting; meanwhile, Charlotte peeps excitedly over his shoulder— she reaches out with spindly legs at Kvasir, like a toddler wanting to be held, and chirps out a soft, “_{Mister Kvasir!}”

There was a beat of silence before the pale-skinned man burst out nearly doubled over in laughter, the hand slapped over his mouth doing a piss-poor effort at concealing his amusement, much to the chagrin of the other tiefling whose expression did not change while he bent down to pick up the arrow where it had clattered to the floor. Suddenly, Morrigan was struck with the feeling that the night was going to end in two murders - the pale stranger, from lack of oxygen to his lungs, or Morrigan, at the hands of the tiefling who had just pelted them in the ass with the arrow.

“I keep plenty of other things sharp, thank you very much - ack!” They wilted to the ground dramatically in their pain, so distraught by the sudden and violent onslaught at the hands of the stranger that they almost didn’t notice Kvasir immediately darting in and violently throwing his cloak over Morrigan with dawning mortification on his red face. Morrigan moved to clasp the cloak over themselves while Kvasir profusely apologized to the two strangers, whom… he apparently knew. Morrigan wrinkled their nose, the gears turning in their head as they came to the entirely wrong conclusion in only that special kind of way their logic could manage.

These were more friends of Kvasir’s that would only inevitably end up taking his attention away from Morrigan.

They stood, still barely paying attention to the cloak around them so an occasional flash of scandalous leg would peek through as they made their way to Kvasir’s side, gesturing angrily at the gray-skinned tiefling with emphatic arm movements. “Oh, so he’s the one that shot me in the ass, and you’re taking his side? I see who your favorites are.” They leveled a decidedly sour expression at their assaulter, too delusional to remember that they had been the one to hit him in the head first. That had been a little love tap with Cupid’s arrow! He had no right to be mad when the myth said he would be the next to find love…

Oh! Maybe he was pissed off because he was so perpetually grumpy that all the fine maidens in the land ran in terror at the sight of his ferocious glare!

They didn’t look bothered in the slightest, however, when the tiefling insinuated that Morrigan was nothing more than a common harlot of the night. “Oh, please. You wish you could afford me.” Morrigan scoffed, tossing a lock of their hair over their shoulder in dismissal. “And greater men than you have tried to get rid of me and failed.”

At least the pale one seemed to have a sense of humor, still laughing even as he calmed enough to join in on the conversation. “You interrupted nothing. What you saw was merely a harmless Hearth’s Day prank, nothing more.” They pulled the cloak tighter around them. “And sadly, the beautiful full moon has been obscured by clouds… perhaps if you pray to Lunala hard enough, you’ll get a chance to gaze upon its beauty once more.”

Movement on the stranger’s shoulder caught Morrigan’s attention - was that a damned spider? The thing was as big as a cat! Morrigan liked spiders as much as the next guy, but one coming in that giant size seemed a little bit overkill. The arachnid waved its little fuzzy, spindly legs up at Kvasir before it actually called his name with real human words, and Morrigan decided that they’d quite had enough of this all.

“Well, that’s my cue to go get dressed.” Morrigan waved a hand in the air, spraying a wave of errant glitter right in the gray tiefling’s open eyes. “As fun as going commando is, I shall leave you but for a moment to catch up with your friends while I throw on something more presentable.” Then, for the sake of appearances, they turned to the two strangers with a wink, some of their usual, over-the-top jovial nature returning, before sauntering off into their guest room.

A few moments later, Morrigan returned, draping themselves against the doorframe to announce their arrival. They’d changed into something a little more casual - a billowing silk chiffon shirt and a long, crimson skirt. “Ah, that’s better. Now where were we? That’s right, introductions - you may call me Morrigan Moonweaver, the great Wizard of the Wastes. Enchanter, diviner, storyteller, creator of miracles and maker of elixirs most wonderful. It’s absolutely lovely to meet the two of you - any friend of Kvasir’s is a friend of mine.”

They kicked the box of chocolates at their feet under a nearby table, covering up evidence for a crime that had already been witnessed.

It's astounding, really, how something like this manages to happen twice.

When Astrid Stormstone had dragged him through the door of the Desert Rose in the wake of their brush with those magic-neutralizing insects a while back, the very last thing Kvasir had expected to see was Morrigan draped over the floor of the living room in slight undress, adorned in vermilion rose petals and illuminated by shining candlelight. Had he not been totally exhausted by the feeling of having his very connection to magic severed, however temporarily, Kvasir would've been rendered utterly speechless with embarrassment then-- and, totally conscious, unburdened by the devastation of a too-long fight, he's nigh-speechless with embarrassment now.

It is not helped by Zarius's comment, voice laced with double entendre the way bitter medicine laces tea, and Caedes's fit of uproarious laughter, so raucous that Kvasir almost wonders if the pale man is about to drop dead from oxygen deprivation on the floor before him, and he'll have to resurrect two corpses from the dead this evening. And yet, somehow, he manages to fight through the laughter, chokes out a sardonic comment in fitting fashion, eyes glinting impishly like moon-pale agates.

"You didn't interrupt anything at all," he says quickly, fighting hard to keep the surge of color in his cheeks down, though it is to no avail. Embarrassment wears him like a glove, settling easily all over every corner of his expression, from the tightness in his lip to the scarlet bleeding like watercolors over his face. "And no, Zarius, I assure you, my career is quite strictly medical, morning and night alike. This is... not... anything."

He sighs, ears twitching anxiously, the fur of his tail bristling just so. Dear Solaria, is Morrigan really going to somehow find a way to do this to everyone he knows? Is he going to have to put up a sign somewhere, cleanly dictating "TREAD WITH CAUTION, NAKED TIEFLINGS MAY LIE AHEAD"? "ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE"?

Why the hell is this something he has to worry about to begin with?!

Kvasir lets out another exhausted sigh as Morrigan unleashes a fistful of glitter to punctuate their announcement that they're going to go put on some godsdamned clothes, silently mouthing an apology to Zarius as flecks of sparkling violet powder flies his way. Gods, he's going to need to clean the storefront again-- perhaps he should consider amending his schedule to account for deep cleaning twice a week. He doesn't fully believe that even divine power itself could erase Morrigan Moonweaver's handmade glitter from every crevice of his home, but something has to give eventually.

"You shouldn't need a cue to go put on clothes," he grumbles quietly, expression twisted into what could almost be called a pout as he watches them disappear up the stairs, sauntering off to their room to put on something appropriate. Kvasir squeezes his eye shut, murmuring something indiscernible beneath his breath-- a prayer, a curse, to who or what, who knows--, before he glances back over to Caedes, his countenance softening as his gaze lands on the familiar form of his favorite spider.

A tiny smile pulls at his lips as he approaches, hands extended just so to her so she can crawl into his arms if she so desires-- the delight when she does is quite apparent. He cradles Charlotte in his arms like she's a child, holding her close and quickly moving to pluck a flower from one of the displays, gently settling the pale pink blossom atop her head.

"Well, hello there, Miss Charlotte," he says, purring with joy. "At least someone here has no interest in making jabs at me. It's good to see you-- good to see you both, too, Zarius, Caedes, I... again, I am so sorry." Another sigh falls readily from Kvasir's lips, but the exhaustion does not quite return. "I assure you, they're not bothering me in any capacity-- actually--"

He's cut off mid-sentence by the sound of footsteps, and he glances back over his shoulder to find Morrigan standing in the doorway, lounging against it like some sort of opera diva, mercifully clothed, now. Kvasir opts to fall silent, opts to give them the opportunity to take center stage as they so love to, let them have their moment to introduce themself properly. He can't help the fondness that settles over his face as they introduce themself, laying their myriad titles before Zarius and Caedes like some spectacular offering to behold, green eye soft as a sunlit leaf as he looks to them.

"...yes, this is my dearest friend, Morrigan Moonweaver," he says, taking a few steps closer to their side, Charlotte still nestled comfortably in his arms. "They're in the Golden Consortium with me-- in fact, we actually were admitted together."

Despite Morrigan's sour expression and dramatic gesturing, Zarius keeps a smile on his face in return. It was like watching an abnormally tall child having a temper tantrum. The man was acting as if they were the ones at fault for walking into an open business expecting not to find someone rolling around naked on the floor. Kvasir was a healer, so perhaps this man was a patient? Clearly something was wrong with their head. 

Zarius can't help but be highly skeptical about both of the purple tiefling's claims about what he can afford and if he would be capable of making good on the offer made to Kvasir about removing him from the premises. 

“Greater men than myself you say? That is impressive.”

Though he had gained a fair amount in the recent months and his own name was hardly an obscure one at least in the Zeinav Initiative, Zarius wasn’t one to flaunt his notoriety without a good reason. It isn’t too surprising that this man has no idea who he is in the presence of, but at the same time he seems pretty clueless about many things judging solely by this laughable first impression.

He had gotten what entertainment he wanted out of it thanks to Kvasir’s reaction, so he would not press the joke further.

Zarius then tilts his head a little. Hearth’s Day? Ah, well that explained it. He never paid much attention to this particularly Charonian tradition to the point that it hadn’t crossed his mind that it was that time of the year again. His family never did anything for it, though he supposes it does explain why his affianced brother was acting weird the last time he dropped by the estate.

He scoffs. “If praying to Lunala results in another glimpse, I think I will refrain.”

The dusting of glitter is a mild annoyance and Zarius dusts it off himself as the purple tiefling departs from the storefront. At least Caedes was having a good time, hearing the assassin absolutely lose his shit was not something the tiefling expected. He can’t help but smile a little at just how much the changeling has lost their cool.

Equally entertaining is Kvasir’s reaction to everything. Zarius snickers as he picks the glitter off of his clothes. Kvasir was such a quiet and mild mannered individual. It was quite entertaining to see him so flustered by whatever this situation was with his apparent…stalker? Roommate? If this was a Hearth's Day prank then maybe they're lovers? He isn’t quite certain what the relationship is between the two men just yet, but they must be fairly decent friends for Kvasir not to be asking for help removing the exhibitionist from the storefront.

“It is good to see you as well, Kvasir. I am glad I finally get to properly visit your place.”

Aside from the unexpected display put on by the purple tiefling, the shop itself was quite charming and cozy without feeling sweltering in the Zeinavian heat. Kvasir’s efforts to make the storefront welcoming and functional did not go unnoticed, and it is clear the care the healer has put into maintaining his stock of ingredients.

In his head, Zarius makes a few mental notes of additional things he could send to Kvasir once he could secure them. He recalls the beakers and glassware Kamille had in her home. Perhaps he would ask the witch who she acquired them from.

As Morrigan rejoins them and formally introduces himself, the charcoal tiefling eyes him a bit. Well, it was a marked improvement over what he was wearing moments before.

“That is an elaborate title. My name is Zarius and this is my associate, Caedes.” Zarius gestures to himself and then to Caedes as he introduces them both to the purple tiefling.

“Congratulations. Being part of an organization that has the Crown’s favor must have opened a lot of doors for you both.”

The tension between the Golden Consortium and the Fighter’s and Mage’s Guilds was no secret. There were many rumors about just how the Golden Consortium conducted its business, and the tiefling was curious to see how many of those rumors actually held water.

Zarius looks at Morrigan, not wholly convinced that this man had the intellect nor the common sense to be part of any elite organization regardless of how shady it is. “So, you are an alchemist as well? What is your specialty?”

“Really? Because man, this sure looks like… something.” Caedes continues with a sweeping gesture at… all of Morrigan.

He looks back at Kvasir— the poor man’s turning just as red as some of the flowers growing in the lobby of his apothecary— between Zarius’ and his playful, jabbing remarks. He chuckles, slowly drawing back into a calmer state when Morrigan pulls Kvasir’s cloak around themselves like a dainty maiden.

Then they proceed to produce some poetic bullshit metaphor about the moon and the clouds that nearly knocks the wind out of him.

The changeling covers his mouth to hide the grin, but it does a poor job of masking his laughter when he starts to lose it again. “Please, I’ll be praying to Avasha to keep it covered.” he bumbles assuredly between laughs. He devolves into snickering after a moment; he’d excuse himself from the conversation, but he can feel Charlotte eagerly wiggling for Kvasir’s attention, and she’s already half-crawling off his shoulder into the fox man’s arms.

“Hells sake, where did you find that one?” Caedes sighs between lingering chuckles; he clears his throat when he’s finished losing his entire goddamn mind over the absurdity of it all. He doesn’t think he’s laughed like that in nearly a decade.

Charlotte, meanwhile, has happily accepted Kvasir’s arms; the spider is cradled like a child, her eight legs curling inwards and wiggling gleefully upon Kvasir’s gracing her with a beautiful pink flower that Caedes knows she will keep until it has wilted, and then keep longer.

If a spider could smile, Charlotte would beam under Kvasir’s attention.

Finally, the changeling gets it together after Morrigan skirts away with a flourish of glitter to go and get changed.

No longer in the sun, he breathes one last chuckle as he’s pushing back the hood that had been covering his head up until now. It falls over his shoulders as he offers Zarius a sidelong glance, nodding his agreement.

“It’s good to see you in general,” he adds to the tiefling’s pleasantries and reaches out to casually brush purple glitter that had dusted across the tiefling’s shoulder onto the ground for him. He sure hopes that was magic glitter. Where the hell would Morrigan be keeping a handful of glitter on their extremely visible person? “It’s obvious you’ve put the work into creating a welcoming atmosphere; I’d say you’ve done a good job with that...”

He looks back at Kvasir, only to be drawn back to Morrigan draped in billowing crimson when they appear again. “Ah… they return.” he remarks with a chuckle. The changeling cocks a brow at their introduction, garnering a slight laugh from him. “Bit of a mouthful, don't you think?” he muses; the changeling crosses his arms beneath his chest— but offers a wave at Morrigan when he’s introduced by Zarius.

“Congratulations on your entry into the Consortium… Seems fitting for you, Kvasir— not sure about them— but I imagine they must have some talent if you were both put in.” Or Morrigan rode in on Kvasir's coattails; for whatever reason, the fox man seems to have a soft spot for this... unique... individual. He offers Kvasir a friendly smile while Zarius starts to grill the once-exhibitionist who has rejoined them. “Would it be too bold of me to guess that you must be specializing with plants even within the consortium?”

“Caedes!”

The changeling blinks and looks at Charlotte who stares back at him in Kvasir’s arms. “Hm?”

She wiggles without speaking; but something must click, because Caedes suddenly perks up and makes an, “Oh,” remark. He pulls back his cloak, moving to unlatch one of the pouches on his belt, “Right. Speaking of plants and potions, the Rookery has an aspiring alchemist—” He pulls out a small, corked transparent bottle that looks like it might have once held ink.

Now, it holds such a number of dried petals that the colours almost blend together in the crowded space. It’s amateurish, with no real sense of pattern or perfection; almost like a child shoved a bunch of flowers in a bottle and called it art.

He offers it to Kvasir though; Charlotte wiggles, looking up excitedly at Kvasir.

“Charlotte made it for you."

Neither man seemed especially delighted at the idea of getting a glimpse of Morrigan’s ass, judging by their equally swift denials. Their frantic rejections, as if they feared Morrigan might actually drop their cloth and Kvasir’s cloak upon their command, was honestly hilarious. Despite the first impression Morrigan may have given, it was not as if they were an exhibitionist. They simply felt comfortable enough walking around in scantily clad dressings, and took special delight in provoking people.

“Oh, well. Your loss.” They said with a nonchalant shrug before their leave to get dressed. For a moment, they were very much tempted to wear another stupid outfit just to get a rise out of them, but if that was the case they thought that might actually cause Kvasir to reach his breaking point and snap, making good on his promise to murder Morrigan as he’d threatened in the past. He seemed to really like these guys… who the hell were they, anyways? He’d never mentioned them before. Perhaps they weren’t that important.

Unless Kvasir had forgotten them.

Dread crept up Morrigan’s spine at the thought of Kasra rearing his ugly head where it wasn’t wanted yet again. But, no, that couldn’t be the case. He’d clearly recognized them and had only seemed surprised by their sudden appearance. Which meant he just simply hadn’t told Morrigan about these particular friends of his. Friends whose opinions and thoughts he clearly cared about. Which meant that, once more, Morrigan was forced to be the bigger person and play nice. Ugh.

Well, if Kvasir wanted Morrigan to at least act normal around his aesthetically fashion-challenged friends, they could do that for at least a couple of hours, provided the tiefling didn’t try to throw any more stray arrows at them. With that in mind, Morrigan got themselves dressed in a particularly lovely elegant skirt and made their way back to the foyer, commencing with the introductions. They also finally got names to put to the faces - the grumpy looking guy was Zarius, and the other one who at least had a semblance of a sense of humor and the spider that Kvasir was currently cuddling like a pillow was Caedes.

“I cannot control titles that have been bestowed upon me.” Morrigan shot back with a shrug - a complete lie, considering each and every single one of Morrigan’s titles had been made up by themselves and spread through rumors. “But yes. I am Kvasir’s partner in the Golden Consortium.” Their eyes narrowed briefly at Zarius’s mention of opened doors. It seemed an innocent enough comment, but for someone of their ilk, it felt like he was gauging to see how well-connected Morrigan and Kvasir were. They couldn’t blame him - for all they hated the rigidity of the consortium, it was true that being a member opened certain… venues. Unfortunately for Zarius, Morrigan didn’t really give a damn about the Consortium except for the fame that the title granted them, and more importantly, the opportunity to steal as many potion components as they could get their hands on. He wouldn’t get much information from Morrigan on that front. “I suppose one might say that. Unfortunately, the Consortium seems concerned with treating us like servants. We’ve been forced on ridiculous quests with little gain for ourselves.”

And then Zarius asked about their specialty, clearly skeptical that Morrigan was capable of any modicum of talent. “Aside from brewing miracles in a bottle?” They raised their brows, eyes flicking to Kvasir only for the briefest moment. “My specialty lies in turbulent chemical reactions. Explosives, poisons, you name it.” They shot Zarius and Caedes both a fanged grin - may as well advertise while they were in the market.

Not snake oil, this time. These two were too close to Kvasir, dangerously so. In a rare show of temperance, Morrigan would not risk Kvasir finding out about the other side of their business. But they had a hunch about Zarius and his… associate - criminal recognized criminal, and even though Zarius was probably playing in a different ballpark, it was still the same game. It wouldn’t hurt to offer their services to Kvasir’s friends. A show of good faith.

“Anything you’re in the market for? My workshop is parked around back.” Near Fish’s shed. “At the friends and family discount, of course. Any friend of Kvasir’s is a friend of mine.”

It's inevitable, really, that even amidst the relentless waves of teasing Zarius and Caedes send crashing his way like the salt-spun sea over the Sun-Scorched Coast, Kvasir couldn't fight off a smile forever.

Before his acquisition of the Desert Rose, the last time Kvasir had lived in a house of any kind was when he still lived with his father-- back when he was still a teenager, eagerly absorbing every bit of botanical and medical knowledge Austri Sigurros was willing to bestow upon his eager-to-learn son. The Tribe of the Lotus had been nomadic, always wandering, never bound to any particular part of the Zeinav Desert-- they'd had their tents and makeshift homes, their inn rooms for those nights they'd traveled into cities for trade or other errands, and they were all close-knit enough that there were seldom ever visitors around to settle in.

As unexpected as it is, there's something truly... wonderful about getting to receive visitors, about greeting good friends you don't expect to see and changing your plans out of nowhere to accommodate the surprise. It's a bit of an odd thing to be so delighted over, perhaps, but Kvasir can't help the little surge of joy that wells up in his heart all the same the more he thinks about it, silly or not.

"I'm glad you get to visit, too," he says, voice sun-warmed at the edges, expression softening just so as he looks to Zarius, and then to Caedes, a gentle smile settling naturally on his face, as if it belongs there. "Heh, I'm happy to hear you think the place looks nice-- to tell you the truth, it's been so long since I settled anywhere, I had to think especially hard about decor..."

That gentility in Kvasir's expression slips just slightly at the jab Caedes makes at Morrigan's capabilities as an alchemist, his lips pursing just so in mild indignation; really, their display from moments ago had been a bit ridiculous, but it wasn't as though their flamboyance detracted from their skill. Still, he tries not to frown too much-- he merely brushes his fingertips over Charlotte's back a few times, happy to keep his focus on petting his favorite spider above all else.

"I assure you both that Morrigan Moonweaver is an astounding alchemist," he is quick to say anyway. "Really, a lot of their potions are better than mine-- they more than proved their prowess with potioncraft when we first met. But... yes, Caedes, I still specialize in plants-- they're one of my greatest joys, after all."

He laughs softly, though he trails off midway at Charlotte's squeaky chirp of Caedes's name, curiosity shining in his eye at the man's remark, at the way he goes fishing through one of his pouches for a vial-- and, inevitably, his ears perk at what Caedes produces, his tail swishing back and forth at a steady speed at the sight of the dried petals, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Kvasir is careful to balance Charlotte in one arm so he can take the vial in one hand, a gentle light of joy glinting in his eye the longer he looks it over.

"Oh, it's lovely, Charlotte," he eagerly says, his voice bright with genuine delight. "You've got quite the budding talent... thank you very much."

Oh, that will definitely be going on display somewhere-- he'll have to think of where, but it's going somewhere.

It's easy to see that embarrassment has long-since departed; Kvasir's spirits are high, joy flooding freely through him as he holds both Charlotte and her gift in his arms, though his brow briefly furrows as a thought seems to pass over him. He hums to himself for all of a second before glancing between Zarius and Morrigan, and then glancing over to Caedes, his expression brightening as though he's thought of a particularly brilliant idea.

"...say, Zarius, Caedes," he begins. "I was going to start on dinner for Morrigan Moonweaver and I, but I should have enough groceries to scrap together a meal for us all-- would you like to stay for dinner? Or at least for drinks of some kind?"

Morrigan's disdain is evident in their tone. Zarius gives a sympathetic nod. Given that Kvasir vouches for the purple tiefling, it would be best to try and get along. 

"That is unfortunate. The consortium should treat their members better."

It wasn't surprising to hear there were some grievances with the consortium, but to be fair, all the guilds had their issues. The future of the Fighter's Guild was still uncertain with their leader still missing after months of chasing the Clasp around. 

"Miracles in a bottle. Right, of course." 

Zarius is skeptical of Morrigan's claims, but it would be rude to challenge him further. They were guests in Kvasir's store and home and should act accordingly. So Zarius keeps the friendly smile and tempers any desire to call out the previously naked tiefling on his bullshit.

The tiefling does shift his weight slightly as Morrigan mentions specializing in poisons. He didn't want to think ill of anyone Kvasir clearly trusted, but he would have to keep an eye on this self-proclaimed miracle maker in case he ends up providing his services to Zarius' competitors. It would be very awkward to have to call on Kvasir to create an antidote to a poison his partner was responsible for creating. 

"Maybe another time." Zarius gives Morrigan a toothy smile at the sales pitch. "I appreciate the offer, but we are not here on business. The last time I tried to visit Kvasir's shop things did not go as planned. I am hoping this visit will be less eventful."

He might as well wave good bye to that sentiment. This was already a more eventful visit than he had hoped for, but at least no spells have been thrown in his face and just glitter which he is certain to never be rid of from now on. He looks at Kvasir as he invites the pair of criminals to dinner. 

"Ah, that is a kind offer. We already ate before we came here, but we are happy to join you and Mister Moonweaver just to catch up. Assuming that we are not imposing, of course."^[1]

Old habits die hard, and Zarius remains cautious of what he eats and drinks out of wariness of being poisoned. Caedes on the other hand just doesn't eat or drink as others do. While they could explain that to Kvasir, and Zarius had considered it before they had encountered Morrigan, he didn't know much about this new alchemist or if he was trustworthy. The statement about specializing in potions didn't do him any favors in making it likely that Zarius would trust him with that kind of personal information anytime soon.

---

[1] Smooth Talking

“Mm. The travel here unfortunately comes with some difficulty given my… condition to the gods-forsaken sun. As you can imagine; given there is not a single escape from it throughout the sandy seas of Zeinav; it is hard to escape from a thing that spends at least twelve hours high in the sky.” he breathes with an air of dramatization, as if the travel here was suddenly making him feint. “But, the trip is well worth it.”

“You like it?” Charlotte’s red eyes glitter, her legs curling with delight as Kvasir looks the vial over and compliments it. “You make me so many pretty things… I wanted to make you something pretty for once… I used lots of dried petals! Like, what you use in your potions…” Her voice gets small, but she wiggles in delight at Kvasir’s compliment, offering Caedes an excited glance.

The changeling chuckles, grinning toothily at the spider’s delight. “See? I told you he’d love it.” he encourages her; and Charlotte curls her legs happily, simply delighted that her gift has gone appreciated. She snuggles up against Kvasir, content in his company, and squints her eight eyes gleefully.

Caedes, meanwhile, crosses his arms— only half-paying attention to the conversation that Zarius and Morrigan are having nearby… but poisons? That is something of interest for him; potentially for Zarius' business; albeit he won’t speak it in the tiefling’s presence at the moment, he makes note of Morrigan’s supposed talents to bring up to the tiefling for a later time.

He swipes idly at some glitter off the back of his gloves while Kvasir suddenly perks up, seeming like he has a thought to share: and he does. “Ohhhh, dinner…” he remarks with a muse of thoughtfulness; but in reality, he does in fact… not really eat anymore, and Zarius rarely eats or drinks in anyone’s presence. The topic, for him, is still a bit hard to bring up: and while he trusts Kvasir, it's... something else, with new faces.

Before he can come up with his own playful excuse about how they’ve suddenly become stricken with some kind of sand-related illness while traveling; or some other ridiculousness; Zarius cuts in with something much more believable.

Caedes glances in his direction, blinking gratefully at the tiefling, before looking back to Kvasir with a smile and a tilt of his head. “That is true… Our apologies, but I would definitely love to catch up if you’ll have us… I actually had a couple of questions about some flora I ran into in Frost Gale. I was traveling with some little duckling and chanced upon it, long story, but I’d love to get your take on a few things.”

“Really? No takers?” It seemed the two were sharper than your average pair, not as willing to buy dubious poisons from a shifty, sparkling purple twit who looked like they knew their way around a bottle better than an alchemy table. That didn’t stop Morrigan from pouting, disappointed in the missed opportunity to show off some of their wares to a couple of people who looked like they had a considerable amount of coin to spend. “My menagerie of elixirs extends to other things, as well - I’ve got strength enhancers,” Said with a wink to both Zarius and Caedes, “Glitter bombs that are pretty handy in a pinch, and my most recent product in the line, enchanted prank chocolates that are to die for.”

They scooped up the slightly-crumpled, heart-shaped box from the ground, which had sustained damage in the pandemonium from earlier, dusting it off to show to the two newcomers with a sly grin.

“Or, just handy if you’re looking for a romantic night in. Eaux d’amour in every bite.”

Then Zarius spouted some stuff about not mixing business with pleasure and Morrigan pouted, throwing the box behind them where it landed in the pile of abandoned props from the prank that they would get around to cleaning later. Probably. “Boo. If we keep our business and pleasure wholly separate then we spend our work days wishing for freedom and our free time lamenting the return to work. But,” They shot a sly glance at Kvasir, “I will refrain from soliciting the guests any further for the time being. Should you find yourself in need of a miracle in the future, you know where I am.”

That last part was spoken with a wave of their fingers, glitter coming from inexplicably nowhere drifting through the air at the motion. Morrigan Moonweaver might not have possessed any true capacity for magic, but the real wonder was where they somehow managed to hide all of that damn sparkly stuff.

The conversation drifted to dinner. As Morrigan would expect of someone with all of Kvasir’s polite niceties and manners, he extended the invitation to them to stay for a meal. Morrigan’s tail swished behind them idly, waiting to see how they would respond - relieved when Zarius mentioned that they’d eaten before, but that too, dimmed when both Zarius and Caedes expressed a desire to catch up.

… Yeah, I’d rather eat glass.

“I’d love nothing more than to have the opportunity to get to know more of Kvasir’s friends!” Morrigan assured them. Caedes had already started with the plant talk - there was a snowball’s chance in hell that this would end early now. Morrigan affixed a smile to their face, breezing out of the foyer further into the house.

“I’ll go take care of drinks, if you’ll lead them to the dining room.” They said to Kvasir, playing the part of the charming hostess trophy wife while they made their way to the liquor cabinet. Maybe this time they’d be able to win the battle with this detestable child lock. Honestly, they had no idea why Kvasir even bothered with that silly thing. He claimed it was for Nyr, but Morrigan knew that kid was far too square to attempt underaged drinking. And if he was truly interested, Morrigan’s own stash was out in the open where their wagon was parked near Fish’s shed out back.

… Which was where Morrigan would inevitably go when their attempts to get the child lock off failed.