A quiet, chittering laugh falls from Kvasir's lips at the dramatic tone Caedes's words take as he speaks of the sun, a brief reminder of his lineage, of the vulpine blood coursing through his veins-- it's difficult to help it, really, when Caedes talks about the sun like it is his gravest foe, as if he cannot bear to spend a moment standing beneath its all-encompassing light. The muted vitriol in his tone is not entirely unwarranted, of course; Kvasir is at least vaguely aware that Caedes's aversion to the sun is anything but unfounded, that some nameless condition prevents him from lingering beneath its rays for too long, but he knows little more than that.

It isn't his business, really; despite his choice in career, he is Caedes's friend, not his private practitioner, and he's hardly entitled to any information pertaining to his medical conditions. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious, but he knows better than to go around asking for the specifics-- if Caedes elects to share one day, Kvasir will happily listen, but if that day never comes, it isn't anything he's entitled to know.

"Well, I'm glad you made it here in spite of the hideous light of the day star, Caedes," he says, the smile on his face widening just slightly as his tone lifts, a lilting amusement creeping into his every word. "You and Zarius are always welcome, whether it's for the sake of a visit, or for the sake of medical care, though I certainly hope the former is a bit more common."

Once again, his attention flits back over to Charlotte, the low candlelight of warmth shining in his eye burning all the brighter, affection kindling the flame further and further.

"You did an excellent job, Charlotte," he says, his voice soft, gentle, his deep care for the spider in his arms as prominent as ever. "I'll cherish this gift-- I hope you are proud of your work, and that you continue to pursue it."

Kvasir brushes his fingers over Charlotte's back in slow, light-touched cycles as he listens to Caedes explain that he and Zarius had already eaten before arriving here-- it's unsurprising, really, considering how taxing of a journey a trek from Darkveil all the way to the Oasis has the potential to be. If anything, the doctoral spirit within him delights over the fact that they'd both elected to eat before a long journey rather than putting it off.

Still, it is a bit unfortunate that he won't get to take this chance to cook for some friends; he wouldn't necessarily admit it, but he's been longing for a chance to get to make some favored recipes of his for the people he's come to adore. Musakhan, fesenjan, tahchin, so on, so forth-- it's a shame that tonight won't mark that night. Ah, well, there's always bound to be other chances, and it's likely better this way, anyway; he'd hate to accidentally half-ass cooking because of the unexpected nature of a visit.

"Oh, that's perfectly fine-- it's always the wiser choice to eat before travel, after all," Kvasir nods to himself, giving Caedes a look of approval. "And I'd love to help however I can-- you know how I am about plants."

He lets out another quiet laugh before his attention flits back over to Morrigan, warmth shining in his softened gaze as they offer to go get drinks situated-- he offers a smile and an appreciative nod in response, some strange and nebulous sense of pride and delight welling up within his heart at how easily Morrigan melds in with this environment, melds in with his life. There is a domesticity to it, really, and--

...ah, he... really shouldn't think on it too much.

"Thank you, my dearest enchanter," he calls as they slip off to go handle drinks, staring after them for perhaps a moment too long before looking back to Caedes and Zarius. "Well, the living room is upstairs-- come along, then."

"That is quite the selection, Mister Moonweaver. But again, we must decline at least for now."

The purple fellblood certainly had the shady street salesman persona down pat, including the pushiness. He had a colorful vocabulary to go along with his colorful persona and 'charming' insinuations. A true scam artist at work, though clearly trying not to push things to the point of offense while in front of Kvasir. It made him wonder just how much the act would change if Kvasir was not around to overhear the sparkly man's spiel.

That was possibly something to investigate further. If Morrigan had wanted to get Zarius' attention, he had it now, but not for the reasons the potion maker was probably hoping for. Zarius, undenounced to Morrigan, was a dealer in information after all, and Morrigan came off as a pretty shady individual who had probably gotten in over his head with the wrong crowd more than once. The potential for easy leverage was all too tempting.

At the end of the day, Kvasir's presence wasn't just keeping Morrigan from taking one step too far, it was also keeping Zarius from prying too much into just who Morrigan really was, something he probably hadn't exactly shared with the gentle foxman. Had Morrigan crossed paths with Zarius and Caedes in a dark alley, they probably wouldn't have been able to swindle their way out of an unpleasant conversation. 

Zarius watches Morrigan leave, taking note of how Kvasir's gaze lingers on them until they disappear from sight. A smirk spreads across his face and he steps up to Kvasir, leaning in and speaking in a lowered volume. 

"If I did not know any better, I would say that enchanter has certainly enchanted someone," he comments to Kvasir, a teasing tone to his voice.

The foxman seemed to be completely enthralled by the flamboyant buffoon. Kvasir was a highly intelligent person, perhaps there really was something to this Moonweaver fellow that has yet to be seen. Though that was hard to believe considering just how much of the purple fellblood they had already been exposed to this night.

Zarius would refrain from any criticism. Kvasir was an adult and more than capable of making his own choices. The same could not necessarily be said for their chosen partner, but perhaps that was a contributing factor to their...friendship? Partnership? Whatever this was. 

"Though your friend is a little...dramatic, it is good to know you are not on your own out here. The Oasis can be a dangerous place to call home."

Not that he can really say it's more dangerous than Darkveil, the worst the Oasis sees is sandstorms, bandits, and the occasional wild animal drawn to the water.

The charcoal fellblood follows Kvasir up to the dining room, taking note of the layout of the building mostly out of habit.

"Your personal touch on the place is quite evident," Zarius comments as they pass many plants decorating the space. "Are you finding it challenging to maintain such a collection in the arid environment?"

Caedes looks up, bemusement twinkling within a gradient of silver and crimson. “Oh?” He remarks; a chuckle escaping from between his lips over the comment. “I think we're good.” he cocks his head at Morrigan’s wink, mischievous smirk quirking the edges of his mouth before he turns back to Kvasir to address his old friend. “As am I, Kvasir; it really was a treacherous journey.” The sarcasm flows thick, followed by a chuckle that seems warm in comparison. “We’ll certainly keep that in mind next time we find ourselves free.”

Charlotte, meanwhile, is utterly delighted; it’s hard for a spider to emote, but her eight eyes almost seem to sparkle in light of Kvasir’s praise for her. Her legs curl in towards her abdomen, wiggling with a sort of unbridled excitement she just can’t seem to keep within. “_Uh-huh!” She agrees, her voice tiny as she lays her head on Kvasir’s forearm. Caedes watches them, a quiet fondness in his otherwise icy gaze while Kvasir dotes on the black widow.

It’s not often that Charlotte finds people who are so… okay with her; general consensus on spiders can vary; just as the general consensus on the undead tends to vary… it’s a similarity they share. Although, Charlotte is much quicker to grow attached to those willing to show her the kind of love she often only finds with he or Zarius or their immediate acquaintances; and Kvasir, thus far, is her favorite of those acquaintances by far.

It’s pretty clear to see why; the way Kvasir treats her as though she’s not a thing to fear, but a thing to treasure. “Oh, I do know.” Caedes laughs in regards to Kvasir’s response, “Which is exactly why I’ve been waiting to talk to you about this.”

The changeling’s attention shifts from Kvasir, to Morrigan, and then back; there’s a warmth in Kvasir’s eyes which is just a bit too telling— it’s the way that his mother used to look at his father. “Dearest enchanter...?” Caedes repeats, a snideness in his tone that seems to insinuate a playful teasing; he glances at Zarius with a smirk and a chuckle— apparently it’s obvious enough for even the fellblood to figure something out.

“Dramatic I think is an understatement,” he remarks as he follows Kvasir up the stairs. “But hey, good for you nonetheless,” He addresses Kvasir, clapping the foxman with an air of familiarity on the back. “They seem like they must make everyday one full of… fun. And unexpected surprises.”

While the other three were conversing as Kvasir showed their guests to the living room, Morrigan made their way to the liquor cabinet. As expected, there was that dreaded child lock. The one meant to keep Nyr out. But Morrigan couldn’t help but feel that it was meant to keep them out too, which was a ridiculous notion. They were well into their thirties, for Ginma’s sakes! A child lock was nothing…

Huh.

Well, it seemed like it was jammed.

Morrigan pouted, jutting their lower lip out as they got on their tiptoes, attempting to get a better angle at the lock. The damn thing shimmied and rattled but gave no signs of coming undone any time soon.

“Ugh… you detestable thing! I command you unlock at once!”

The lock, of course, did not budge, because it was not sentient. And even if it was, it would not be afraid of the little purple creature who could not figure out how to push in and twist the mechanism preventing them from gaining entry to the elixir inside. A mechanism that Nyr no doubt already knew how to get past but merely chose not to, which would probably sting even more if Morrigan was ever made aware of that fact.

Mulling over their options, Morrigan’s nose wrinkled as they stared at the cabinet. If threats and demands would not work, maybe acid would… did Morrigan have any on them? None that were strong enough to corrode a lock, probably. Which left their last-ditch effort… glitter.

But as usual, throwing a handful of the substance at the lock served to accomplish nothing except make it more sparkly. Morrigan huffed, petulantly kicking the damn thing in the side as a final last move to spite the cabinet -

Only to stub their toe and immediately let out a cry of pain as they crumpled to the ground, grasping at their foot.

Morrigan glowered at the piece of furniture, tears brimming in their eyes from the injury. “You win this time, cabinet.” They murmured as the picked themselves to their feet, limping away to their wagon outside. They’d just make drinks there quickly, and maybe get something for their foot.^[1]

A few minutes later Morrigan returned to the living room with a couple cocktails for themselves and Kvasir, and some cucumber water for the guests. “Hopefully you did not miss me too badly while I was gone.” They said with a wink while they set the drinks down on the table.

---

1. Potion of minor healing

It’s kind of funny, really, how only every other comment that falls from Zarius and Caedes’s mouths fills Kvasir with the urge to throw something at them. Nothing that could inflict true damage to either of them, of course– these are his friends, and as a doctor, healing and helping are his priorities above all, but something like a particularly firm pillow aimed directly at their faces would certainly help ease the embarrassed irritation blossoming to life within him.

First it was young Astrid Stormstone prying her way in to sniff out the nature of the relationship between him and Morrigan, and now Zarius and Caedes are making snide comments, too! It’s ridiculous! He’s not acting any differently around Morrigan than he does any other day, any differently from how he’s acted since the day they met, and yet, it’s as though he’s as transparent as unpainted glass to any outsiders looking in, the soft watercolors marking his feelings as what they are as striking as the richest Zeinavian dyes. It’s enough to make Kvasir wonder if he needs to fine-tune his behavior in Morrigan’s presence– the last thing he wants is for Morrigan to figure out that his feelings run a bit deeper than mere companionship, after all, lest their close friendship become… awkward.

..Still. “The enchanter has certainly enchanted someone.” “‘Dearest’ enchanter.”

God, his friends suck.

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles at both of them, though there’s hardly any real bite to it. These are his friends, after all, and playful teasing between friends is fairly normal– he hardly has any reason to be legitimately upset, considering such playfulness and trickiness runs in his very blood. “Yes, Morrigan Moonweaver is a drama queen, but they really bring a lot of life into… well, everything.”

The apothecary, the gruesome or tiresome missions they’re sometimes sent out on together, Kvasir’s life in general– as always, Morrigan is a brilliant, shining ray of sunlight, illuminating even the dullest of things until they match the luster of gemstones. Kvasir isn’t sure what he’d do without them, nowadays.

He hopes he never has to find out what he’d do without them.

He doesn’t elaborate more than that as he leads Zarius and Caedes upstairs so the three of them can settle in the lounge, quick to settle in his favorite chaise. He doesn’t get the chance to continue much of a conversation by the time Morrigan returns with cocktails and water in tow, to which he offers a bright smile and a quick “thank you”– though he does briefly slip out to go get a tiny dish of water to offer to Charlotte. Just in case she’s thirsty.

“So,” he begins as soon as he’s settled once more, glancing over to Caedes in particular. “I know you had questions about some flora– do tell. Zarius, I’d like to hear any stories you have to tell, as well. It’s been a while.”

Zarius smirks. Kvasir's reaction is just what he was hoping for and Caedes had done well to jump on his little bandwagon. He wouldn't push things too far though, knowing Caedes would show far less restraint if he encouraged the teasing too much. 

The pair follow Kvasir to the lounge and settle down across from the fox-man. 

Morrigan's return is met with a friendly smile from Zarius, though it is just a mask he wears for the sake of being polite and for the benefit of keeping up appearances with Kvasir. Honestly, if the sparkly fool had gotten stuck in a different room for the rest of their visit, he would have been fine with that. First impressions had not been very flattering. 

"Not at all," the fellblood replies, not bothering to make any move to pick up the drink. Last thing he was going to take a risk on was anything placed before him by someone who had moments before said their expertise was in poisons. 

He turns his attention back to Kvasir. There wasn't much he could add to the conversation about flora, but that was alright.

"It has. Things have been interesting since our last meeting, though I am uncertain as to which stories would be of interest to you."

It also wasn't clear how much Kvasir's flamboyant partner knew about, well, anything. Zarius also isn't sure what kind of agenda or connections that purple fellblood may have, so he's a bit hesitant to share any information that could be potentially abused by someone with ill intent. Of course, this was an opportunity to learn more of the suspicious individual as well. 

"Mister Moonweaver, with such illustrious titles I am surprised I have never heard of you. Are you a local to Zeinav, or are you from elsewhere?"

Really, scam artists were a dime a dozen across Charon, especially in the Ash Lands. That said, Morrigan was far too flashy to run in the same circles as Zarius and Caedes. If he had to guess, given Morrigan's title, they had to be from the Zeinav Desert, so any response to his question actually isn't really that helpful.

That wasn't the point though. He just had to get the enchanter talking about themselves, and Morrigan seemed to be the type to jump at any invitation to do so. Given enough 'encouragement', the purple fellblood is certain to let some actually useful information slip. 

Caedes can’t help but laugh, a curled hand moving to cover his mouth, when Kvasir bites back at them with as little venom as mortally possible to shut up. It’s so unbelievably unthreatening that his mumble of disdain in response to their teasing is downright charming. Caedes withdraws his hand from his mouth, grin unabashed. “I’m sure they do.” he agrees, his tone playful; but the friendly taunting doesn’t go much farther than that.

He follows along after Zarius and Kvasir, while Charlotte very happily continues to snuggle up in Kvasir’s arms; she’s been so excited to see the fox-man, and Caedes has already accepted that he’ll see very little of her while she eagerly pads after Kvasir like a clingy puppy during their brief stay at the Desert Rose. Caedes hops the last step of the staircase as they reach the landing, cloak fluttering as the flats of his boots hit the ground.

He ultimately takes a seat near Zarius with a careless drop into it. “So much,” the changeling boasts with a laugh in contrast to Zarius’ response upon the fellblood’s return, “Too quiet and peaceful without you here… thank you kindly for the vegetable water, though… Say, Moonweaver, did you put on even more glitter while you were gone?”

He offers the purple fellblood a lopsided grin while he crosses one leg over the other.

Like Zarius, he also makes absolutely no motion to even inspect the drink outside of the acknowledgement that it is, in fact, present and existing in front of them. It’s less about Morrigan’s status as an enchanter and poison entrepreneur, and more about his own situation; although, in all fairness, as a man in a line of business not necessarily unfamiliar with the slipping of various poisons into drinks… he can’t blame Zarius for not even bothering even if Vampirism weren't the case.

“Mm.” He agrees, offering his attention to Kvasir while Zarius addresses Morrigan; he tries to think of the best way to ask this question without triggering any suspicion or potential bias. “I was traveling Frost Gale with a little duckling, and on the way back, we found these clusters of blue flowers. In fact,” Caedes holds up a finger in a gesture of ‘one moment’ and slips a hand into a pouch on his belt, “Here, catch.” With that warning alone, he tosses a dark, silk bag tied tightly at the top to the fox man in an underhanded motion.

To the touch, the bag would radiate a chill that feels harder to hold from the bottom of the bag, where whatever’s in it seems to lie. “I’ve only ever heard of a flower like this before… but I foraged some, they dropped seeds… whatever, you get it. Not much left but the seeds, but that thing’s been chilling everything in my bag, so I might not recommend holding onto it for long.”

Morrigan flipped their hair over their shoulder in response to Kvasir’s quietly uttered, polite thanks, still rather engrossed in entertaining his guests rather than speaking with Morrigan. The charlatan’s lips jutted out in a pout, only for the briefest of moments before it was covered up by a charming smile that pinched at the edges. It was clear that the sparkly fellblood had never quite learned how to share. Regardless, they moved to hand young master Zarius and Caedes their drinks, utilizing a great deal of restraint not to feign tripping and spill Zarius’s drink all over his lap. Given Zarius’s entirely unwarranted antagonism towards them, Morrigan doubted it would be seen as an accident. Kvasir clearly liked these two, though given that his best friend was a criminal and a pathological liar, and he had a thief living in a shed in his backyard, there was clearly no accounting for taste.

I was here first, they wanted to snap. Back off.

They decided not to examine why this was their first reaction to meeting Kvasir’s other friends and acquaintances.

Perhaps it was simply because they were worried about dear, sweet Kvasir getting taken advantage of by these smooth-talking Ash Landers! Yes, Morrigan was simply being protective, that was all. Kvasir’s mental state was a fragile thing, like Zeinavian glass that had been broken and reshaped, waiting to be dropped and shattered once more. Ever since their first meeting he had wholeheartedly believed Morrigan’s carefully spun stories and lies, with no reason to believe anything otherwise. Morrigan had no intention of scamming or deceiving him, of course. Perhaps that had once been their intention back in the Lantern Light Woods, keeping a powerful enemy by their side. But for whatever reason, some great, inexplicable, nebulous thing - they knew they were no longer capable of that, not for Kvasir. No, he alone needed to be protected.

Perhaps because Kvasir was the first person who was so wholly good, so oddly selfless despite his wit and cynicism, someone so loving of people despite his determination to keep his distance from him. And he did not know the whole truth of Morrigan, but he knew enough, more than the charlatan had ever willingly told another living soul. And clearly, this foolish, utterly selfless and irrefutably kind being was just the right bland of stupidly charming and naive that he was like candy to criminals! Why, it was only natural for Morrigan Moonweaver, false Wizard of the Wastes, to want to protect him from getting truly scammed!

Yes, that was it.

Unfortunately for Morrigan Moonweaver, denial was not just a river in the White Sand Sea.

As they sat, Zarius - who still had not touched his drink, which Morrigan had decided to take personally - finally decided to shift the conversation topic to something more tolerable than talking about themselves and how they knew Kvasir. Morrigan.

They leaned back in their seat, contemplating propping their feet up on the table but decided against it considering that would probably prompt Kvasir to shove their legs off. “Well, where to start?”

Zarius would probably regret asking anything at all, as it would become rapidly apparent that he would have to sift through literal gallons of shit to find gold. It didn’t seem possible that one could speak so much and say so little, and yet, here Morrigan was.

“I am, as you guessed, a Zeinavian native.” They replied, taking another long sip of their drink before momentarily turning to Caedes and replying, “Why, yes, I did, thank you for noticing! There’s no point in going through life looking so dull and brooding, in my opinion.”

That last part spoken with a pointed glance at the charcoal-skinned fellblood before they smoothly continued on their diatribe.

“I profess I am not entirely surprised you have not heard of me. Though I am quite the household name in Zeinav, most of my accomplishments are well known within the Capitol city. And my business nowadays is much less… flashy and divine. I prefer to travel and sell my wares and live a life of comfortable wandering while I dispense my wares to the good people of the world. Why, I’m even in the process of writing a bit of an autobiography myself, you see. If you’re interested I could always send you a copy…”

It seemed like they could go on and on like this unless someone stopped them.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s something you’ve done that would interest me,” Kvasir says, leaning forward a little, an intrigued smile pulling at the corners of his lips as Zarius ponders what would be of interest to him. “I’m hardly much of a traveler anymore, after all– surely you can entertain a little caged fox?”

His voice drips with sarcasm, but his attention is quickly seized as Zarius and Morrigan start chattering away and Caedes starts explaining the kind of flower he found out in the Frost Gale– Kvasir opts not to question the mention of a “duckling,” figuring it’s… some kind of nickname or code or something, but he does lean even further forward with intrigue as Caedes winds up tossing a small pouch his way.

Ah– he doesn’t even have to look inside to know what it is. There’s a deep chill that pierces through the fabric of the pouch, through the fabric of the gloves he has yet to discard for the day, and thankfully so– he can’t help the way he shivers a little at merely the touch of the outline of those flowers against his fingers. Blue, Frost Gale, cold as the layers of deep ice that lay the foundation of Northern Charon– yep, he’d know Seithr’s Bane anywhere. Pesky thing– he’s not sure what Caedes might want to use it for outside of… well. Its key use.

“So you stumbled upon some Seithr’s Bane clusters?” he asks, looking to Caedes with a raised eyebrow, moving to hold the bag by its drawstring instead of its base. Dear Solaria, he’d forgotten what a nightmare these things are to handle– he usually only ever does for the sake of botanical sketches or for Consortium commissions, and even then, it’s with a lot of protective gear and one or two spells in place to stave off the cold. “Let’s see– intensely poisonous, though not to the touch… known to cause frostbite if held for long enough. Symptoms after consumption include shortness of breath and dizziness, leading to full failure of the respiratory system thirty minutes after imbibement if no antidote or purification magic is administered… little use beyond its poisonous quality and extreme chill…”

He pauses for a minute, tail swishing as he thinks of anything else to add.

“They smell very nice.”

Kvasir pauses for a moment before getting to his feet once again, slipping into one of the many unseen rooms out of the way of the living room– there is the distant sound of shuffling through drawers, through shelves, a frustrated hum before he steps back out, swinging around the corner and stopping to look at one of the countless scraps of paper pinned all over the house, the writing on it indistinguishable beyond the broad, cursive letters at the top: DON’T FORGET.

He nods to himself, murmuring one more thing before slipping downstairs, a few more minutes trickling by before he returns with another pouch, slightly larger than the one Caedes had handed him– this one made of a different material, thicker, a different texture. He slips the bag of seeds and remnants of flowers inside the larger bag before tying the strings off in a neat bow and placing it into Caedes’s hand.

“It won’t ease the chill completely,” he says with a weak smile. “But it should ease some of the effects on your other belongings. Be careful with that– store it properly, and ensure Miss Ebby doesn’t get into it. It won’t hurt too much to touch, but eating it is a death sentence.”

And with that, Kvasir turns to go return to his seat on the chaise beside Morrigan, cozying up at their side, his tail swishing over their lap as they chatter away about themselves. A small, bemused smile pulls at the corners of his lips as he listens to them talk, a warmth blooming in his eye– Gods, they truly do love to hear themself speak, don’t they? What a ridiculous person they can be. Kvasir’s never dealt with someone so simultaneously prideful and so… wonderful all the same.

“Ah, ah, Morrigan Moonweaver,” he chides, gently nudging them from where he’s leaning against their side. “Don’t chat poor Zarius’s ear off. You’ll dazzle him too much. There’s only so much grandiosity some can take in a single conversation.”

A chittering laugh follows the words, his tail swishing lightly before it settles on Morrigan’s lap again, as comfortably as if it belongs there.

"Perhaps, though not all topics are suitable for the present company."

Kvasir and Morrigan can interpret that however they want. Either way, Zarius is relieved when Caedes directs Kvasir's attention to some plants he and Askr retrieved while journeying across Frost Gale. For now, he does not have to say anything about his travels and work that might be risky to share around the shifty purple fellblood in the room. 

Speaking of which, it is all too easy to get that glittery fool to start going on and on about themselves. Though it's the one and manner of which they do so that makes Zarius' eyes narrow. 

Yeah, no.

Zarius wasn't buying what Morrigan was selling in the slightest. Household name in Zeinav? Ha. That's doubtful. The more Morrigan talks the more skeptical Zarius gets, though his interest is piqued by the mention of an autobiography. It no doubt would be filled with flowery words without any real substance based on how he speaks of himself and his accomplishments.

All in all, Morrigan has been fairly vague on the details of his exploits. He expected as much. While the purple jester strikes him as a fairly arrogant asshole, they have to have some sense. If he was blatant with his tomfoolery he rather doubts Kvasir would be as amiable towards them as he is. 

"I actually would be interested in receiving a copy of your autobiography, Mister Moonweaver. I am sure it will be an enlightening read."

He glances at Kvasir as the herbalist rejoins the conversation after procuring a more suitable bag for Caedes' magic flowers. His eyes linger on the bag. While he hadn't been as involved in the conversation about the blooms, Kvasir's mention of their toxic properties had made Zarius' shoulders tense. While he has no doubts that Caedes carries poison on him regularly, it's different when it's being talked about so openly and waved around a room. 

He shifts a bit uncomfortably but does his best to keep his discomfort from showing on his face.

Thankfully the conversation turns away from the topic of poison, and returns to Morrigan's self-aggrandizing. 

"It is alright, Kvasir. Compared to how the monarchy speaks of themselves, Mister Moonweaver is refreshingly humble."

It's a bit odd to see Kvasir acting absolutely infatuated with someone. To his credit, Zarius does not know the fox-man very well, so perhaps this was normal for him more so than the quiet professional face he wore in the Ash Lands when they first met. 

Still, with how slimy Morrigan comes off, he has to wonder if this is something surface-level or deeper. And if it's one-sided.

Kvasir's personal business was his own, but to Zarius Kvasir was an important asset. Having a competent and trustworthy healer closer to home than all the way in Moonglade is not something he's willing to let just slip through his fingers. If this fool of an alchemist was using Kvasir or putting the herbalist in any sort of harm's way, he would intervene as necessary.

Ironically, both Morrigan and Zarius have an interest in protecting Kvasir from one another, just for very different reasons. It would not be surprising at all if they came to blows over what is basically a misunderstanding of intent. Especially since Morrigan is so good at poking the hornet's nest and Zarius is more than willing to swarm them in return.

"I hope that what happened during our last encounter did not scare off that young man. He seemed pretty keen on apprenticing under you."

From what he could tell, Nyr didn't appear to be around. But that didn't mean that Kvasir refused to teach him. Course if the crazy angel didn't scare Nyr off, then the glittery naked fellblood surely would.

“Sure.” Caedes agrees noncommittally when Kvasir questions the flower as Seither’s Bane; fuck if he knows, after all— that’s kind of why he brought them here in the first place. It was his first assumption, but he’s not a botanist. He listens, gaze sleepy, as Kvasir explains like in the words of a living guidebook, the properties of what Caedes has brought to him.

Intensely poisonous, but not to the touch; that’s interesting; consuming it takes nearly thirty minutes to do what it needs to do; a bit of a disappointment, but it might have its niche uses. Caedes tilts his head with an inquisitive edge, then smiles drowsily at Kvasir. “I see. Not what I expected,” he admits, despite it being almost exactly what he expected. “Thank you for the lesson. I will have to be cautious with it.”

As he’s not particularly in the business of spiking Zarius’ anxieties _{(not intentionally, anyways)}, he lets the alchemist’s answer be the end of that conversation for the time. He does want to know if it can be grown in climates significantly less cold than Frost Gale, and how to do so; but those questions could easily be addressed at a later time, when he doesn’t have to privy Zarius to the ins and outs of various poisons that he definitely, probably doesn’t want to hear about.

It’s difficult to get his hands on what he actually needs in the kind of business that he’s in; especially when the business wants you as dead as you want them. Poison is hardly the most honorable means of killing, but it is a way that he’s intimately familiar with; however, the making of it? Less so. Still, to some degree, Caedes thinks it might be better to some degree to make his interest in it transparent rather than go behind Zarius' back to chat about it— particularly, given their past misunderstanding.

He glances in Zarius’ direction, offering him an apologetic smile and a tilt of his head, before looking back to Kvasir’s return. “Thank you; I’ll be cautious with it. Ebony is as much of a menace to my belongings as she is to me, so I’ll be sure to put it somewhere safe.” He takes the bag and tucks it away, lowering his lashes as he listens idly to Morrigan Moonweaver prattle like a gossiping goose about themselves.

He tightens the straps of the bag back to his belt; and like Kvasir said; the thicker fabric does do some wonders in holding back the natural chill of Seithr’s Bane. The changeling tilts his gaze towards Zarius and Morrigan Moonweaver, unable to help himself from giving Kvasir a bemused smirk when he notices his tail has drifted onto Morrigan’s lap.

“If the kid got half as much of an entrance as we did when we walked in, I wouldn’t blame him for scurrying.” he remarks as he adjusts himself, leaning back into the furniture beside Zarius; he casually props his arms against the back and crosses a leg over his knee before blinking a few times in some semblance of realization. 

He’s absolutely bullshitting his ignorance on the conversation at hand.

“… Hm? Ohhh, you’re talking about something else, aren’t you? You’ve an apprentice now, Kvasir?”

Morrigan was aware Kvasir was speaking with the pale one, Caedes, about something… component related? They could hear the distant thrum of conversation simmering underneath the sound of their own voice, discussions of places and people that Morrigan did not know and that Kvasir had never spoken to them about.

(Honestly, though, it was entirely possible he had, and Morrigan merely had not heard. Though that was slim. Somehow, Kvasir was one of the few people Morrigan paid time and attention to. For numerous reasons, though they’d be hard pressed to list any of them.)

And Morrigan’s own conversational partner was, admittedly, rather one sided. Morrigan did note that Zarius deflected any attempts to speak on himself or his own matters, but it honestly did not occur to them that it might have been anything malicious or conniving. And they were far too distracted speaking about themselves to really care. The benefit of being self-obsessed to the point of narcissism is that Morrigan was oftentimes too thick to bother with the mind games. And Zarius’s attempt at prying information out of them was a bit of a double edged sword, because, well, they were all too eager to blab about themselves to anyone that would listen.

Oh, and Zarius had no idea what devil he’d invited by asking for a copy of Morrigan’s autobiography. No amount of information digging would be worth slogging through that piece of shit. Four thousand pages of heavily embellished lies, describing Morrigan’s ‘rise to wizard stardom’, their miraculous acts, which included saving the coast of Zeinav from a vicious tsunami, traveling through time and space and personally putting an end to the Collapse, and even dining in the halls of the gods and being personally thanked by Solaria himself for their service to Charon. It was all bullshit propaganda meant to fuel the fires of the legend of the Wizard of the Wastes - and, more likely, was from Morrigan’s own teenaged scribblings.

Well. Zarius could certainly have fun sifting through that pile of crap for gold if he wanted anything concrete on the pathological liar.

“Of course. I’d be delighted to send you a copy, free of charge.” If it weren’t for the fact that Kvasir was right there next to them, their thighs pressed together from the proximity of their seating - Morrigan was not the type to shy away from physical contact - Morrigan might have told Zarius that it was at a friends and family discount, just to see if he’d bite. But even though they hinted at business, and sometimes still worked on their own schemes in the back of the Wagon of Wonders while at the apothecary, there were still some things that Morrigan wouldn’t do in front of the medic.

For the sake of Kvasir’s own ignorance, of course. Certainly not because there was always this strange… not content feeling that bubbled up in their chest whenever they thought of what their dearest medic might do when he learned Morrigan was not the miracle maker they claimed to be.

A gentle nudge and soft, teasing words pulled Morrigan from their conversation. Morrigan hummed, a grin on their lips while Kvasir’s tail settled in their lap. They ran their fingers through soft fur, a thoughtless, comfortable gesture. Habit built from months of being accustomed to close proximity with one another. But still, they relented to his request - Kvasir was attuned enough to Morrigan’s own idiosyncrasies to know how to ask them to tone it down when need be. One did not simply tone down the brightness of a shining star, but for the sun itself, one must learn to make an exception.

“Ah, of course. Well, conversation topics should be dictated by the guests, no? I’ll merely save more for next meeting then, if Master Zarius is so inclined.” Spoken like someone who hoped Zarius was not inclined.

And, drift off the conversation did, to a topic Morrigan very much did not know how to handle.

The apprentice.

Morrigan wrinkled their nose like Zarius and Caedes were talking about a spoilt Vaha fruit left to rot in the sun rather than the fellblood child Kvasir had picked up. It was no secret to anyone that Morrigan was not good with kids - cough cough Astrid Stormstone - and they were clearly not good with other people intruding on private time between themselves and Kvasir. So combining the two was like a cocktail of bad just waiting to explode.

Morrigan picked up their own drink to hide their sour expression. Only once they’d had a suitable enough sip to speak. “Oh, I doubt anything could scare that kid away from learning under Kvasir. He seems to idolize him.”

There’s an approving glint in Kvasir’s eye as he watches Caedes tuck the bag away, looping its strings around his belt and tying it securely in place– it’s always vital to ensure there’s no way something like that can be misplaced, after all, especially out in a place like Darkveil. There are a lot of potent poisons in Charon, countless plants brimming with lethal potential, and Seithr’s Bane ranks quite highly among them, and he wouldn’t want that falling into the hands of just anyone. The one blessed thing about it is how tricky it is to find.

“Thank you,” he says, shooting Caedes a little smile. “I can rest easy knowing you’ll be cautious with it. If you ever have any questions about any form of flower, fruit, or fungus from here on out, I’ll happily answer.”

Still, he highly doubts that Morrigan and Zarius have any interest in sitting off to the side, carrying on in their own conversation while the other two babble on about poisons, especially now that it’s dwindled down, wrapped up with one or two seemingly final comments. Poison is… hardly polite conversation for sudden company, and while Kvasir certainly considers everyone in the room to be a good friend at the very least, and Morrigan is his dearest partner in the Consortium, well… something a bit more universal might suit the tone a bit better.

It’s best, perhaps, to let Zarius steer this ship for now; Kvasir lets himself fall silent, leaning ever so slightly more into Morrigan’s space as the fellblood starts running their bejeweled fingers through the fur of his tail, a small, contented chitter falling from his lips. It’s a strangely relaxing gesture, the kind that carves the tension from his aching shoulders and plucks at what little phantoms of panic still frantically dart about his brain– he thinks someone might have done this for him once, Back Then, somewhere in the big, vast, impossible space he’s been left to blindly navigate. He no longer knows who they might have been.

Some part of him wants to search, to dig through fragments of fragments and try to hold them together, to risk cutting his palms on the pieces just for part of a picture, but the rest of him… the rest of him says to rest, to let himself stay here, in the present, next to the person who is doing this for him right now, the person who’s nestled in his heart all the same, like a star crawling into a constellation, its image made meaningless without it.

Kvasir knows which part is winning.

He blinks slowly as soon as Zarius brings up their last encounter– and for a moment, he grimaces, tail bristling just so as he remembers the woman, the so-called angel and the words she’d spoken– but he calms, significantly, at the mention of Nyr. There is always good with bad– there are always blessings to be found when you sift through the fear. Nyr is undoubtedly a blessing.

“Oh, luckily, it didn’t scare him off,” he says, smiling just so. “He’s doing just that– he’s my first medical apprentice.” Kvasir looks to Caedes, then, giving a little nod. “His name is Nyr– he’s a wonderful kid, though he’s painfully skittish. I’d love to introduce you sometime! You’d have to give some warning, though– I’d want him to be able to prepare for any kind of meeting.”

A flash of surprise crosses his face as soon as Morrigan speaks– hah, idolize would hardly be the word he’d use. Besides, Nyr has only had so much exposure to the world, in the end.

“Idolize? I don’t quite think I’d go that far.”

It comes as no surprise to Zarius that Morrigan would be eager to share what is likely considered the fellblood's magnum opus. He's also fully prepared to be rolling his eyes the whole time, but another thought crosses his mind in regards to the book. 


"Is there any chance you could also sign the copy? It would make the copy the crown jewel of my collection."^[1]

A lie, of course. He could care less about the book unless it does happen to have some modicum of truth in it. But a sample of the fellblood's handwriting was a different story. There were endless uses for someone's personal signature and writing style, and it wouldn't hurt to have such a tool in his back pocket should he need it. 

Zarius nods in agreement. "I frequent Zeinav City so I have no doubts our paths will cross again."

With any luck, that statement would keep the alchemist a little wary of doing anything stupid or reckless that might make its way back to Kvasir. Zarius certainly would not hesitate to rat on the glittery fool should he prove himself to be a threat to Kvasir or Zarius' own operations. 

He glances at Kvasir's tail in Morrigan's lap. On second thought, Kvasir might be willing to overlook a good number of transgressions. Morrigan might have to do something completely reprehensible or heinous for the fox-man to not consider forgiveness. 

As Caedes and Kvasir rejoin the conversation, he does his best to put those thoughts to the side.

It's a relief to hear that Kvasir did not lose the opportunity to have an assistant because of the strange altercation with an errant angel. Kvasir's skills and knowledge of Charon's flora are unparalleled. Knowing that he is passing on those skills to another only means there are more people with alchemical talent he actually can trust. He can't imagine that Nyr would be the type to ask too many questions of any clients that Kvasir already trusts either, so it works out perfectly in Zarius' favor.

"That is good to hear. Seems like he could use some guidance navigating the real world." 

The sooner the young fellblood learns some street smarts, the better. Before someone with worse intentions gets the chance to sink their claws into the nervous lad. Try as he might, he can't help but glance at Morrigan with that in mind. Hopefully, Kvasir can keep the very-clearly-a-scam-artist from taking advantage of the kid. Of the many things Morrigan Moonweaver claims to be, they certainly should NEVER be a mentor to ANYONE.

He looks back at Kvasir with a soft smile. "I cannot think of many others who are as well-suited to be a mentor than you." 

Giving his attention back to Morrigan once more, he shoots the fellblood a practiced, good-natured grin. 

"Well, Kvasir has proven to be someone worth admiration. I am certain you would agree."

---

[1] Smooth Talking

"Of course," Caedes promises, lashes lifting to glance sidelong at Zarius. "I don't have the luxury to be careless when I have others to consider." His deft fingers pause mid-tie for just a heartbeat before he continues to wrap the cord and draw it tight, "My mother was very interested in flora; she kept ash roses year round amongst others. I can't say she passed down her green thumb to me, but every now and then, the urge to do something with what knowledge she gave me strikes. It's nice to know I've someone to rely on when it does."

He has vivid memories of her garden; of an ash-smeared apron, darkened gloves, and hours he spent with her in the falling ash while pretending to be useful. He remembers the panic in her eyes when her rat of a toddler tugged at the hem of her dress with handfuls of flowers that he had mistaken as weeds; and the sound of her laughter when he pitched a childish tantrum over the rose she'd put in his hair being 'too girly'. He thinks of how he would brush his fingertips over the ash-laden leaves of rose bushes and watch the silt fall like snow; and of the door to the attic that she never allowed him into until he was old enough to understand the danger of it all.

...

Gods, he would happily wear that stupid rose in his hair now.

He blinks; and when the cord has tightened, he glances up at Kvasir and offers him a smile, "Thank you. Maybe the next one I pick up will be a little less drastic, though." Caedes knows it probably won't; his line of work would benefit more from such lethal plants should he be able to concentrate them. That's the point; but he hopes the context will lessen any curiosity that might come from asking about such a lethal specimen.

When he and Kvasir rejoin the conversation, it is about his medical apprentice. "Nyr," Caedes repeats it to memory, "I can't blame the kid; I'm not one for surprise meetings, myself. Though, it'd only be fair for him to meet your other little apprentice." He nods his head towards Kvasir - specifically, to the black widow that has begun to doze in his arms - her head nuzzled up against his shirt. "If he has any strong feelings about spiders, though, it might be an introduction best saved for later. Congratulations, though; you are a talented healer and alchemist. It's only natural that he looks up to you."

He glances between Zarius and Morrigan, somewhat bemused, "As a fellblood with what sounds like quite the reputation, surely they know talent when they see it." His gaze lingers on Morrigan, smile lazy and smug, "I imagine they must have plenty of unsung praises."