Okay, this wasn’t working. Morrigan needed to think of a plan B if they were going to hold this crowd’s attention and give Hylltywyll enough time to grab that teapot. What in the world was taking so long? Wasn’t he supposed to be some master at stealing things? He’d taken things right in front of Morrigan’s eyes and shoved them in that dimensional pocket of his. Maybe this was some form of weird and humiliating punishment to force Morrigan to perform as long as possible.

Alright. Morrigan would dance.

“Not a fan of that one, were you?” Morrigan straightened, brushing dirty leaves and tomato juice off of their clothes. “That’s quite alright, friends! I have more tricks up my arsenal, watch, watch!”

They pulled a pair of gloves from their pocket, slipping them onto their hands. Holding their arms up in the air and wiggling their fingers, Morrigan grinned.^[1] “Watch as I grow a garden from thin air!”

The crowd fell silent, skeptical as the charlatan pressed the gloves to the ground, deep in concentration. A bead of sweat seemed to grow at the corner of their brow as they stared at the ashen dirt…

POP!

A single, tiny daisy sprouted between cracks of cobblestone.

Morrigan straightened and dipped into a low bow.

“Tah-dah!”

Silence fell over the crowd once more until the hecklers erupted into a chorus of boos once more, throwing even more violent and ludicrous items at the fellblood. A shoe, books, sticks from the ground - wait, what was that sharp thing hurtling through the air?

“Okay, that is definitely a KNIFE - ow!”

They didn’t dodge out of the way in time as the sharp blade embedded itself in Morrigan’s shoulder. They hissed, seething in pain from the injury. What the hell was wrong with the people of Darkveil? Back in Zeinav this routine would have killed! Quite done with the games for now, the charlatan reached into their bag until they found a familiar vial of green gas. “Alright, fuck it, fine! I’m done! Here, just take this and be done with it. Whatever.”

They half heartedly tossed the potion into the crowd, glass shattering where it hit the crowd and broke.^[2] All at once the people started stuttering and coughing while Morrigan hopped off the stage, shoving their hands in their pockets. Everyone enveloped in the smoke began to lose their mind with rage, driven mad by the fellblood’s horrible performance. So angry that the mindless zombies kn the crowd started tearing one another apart, Morrigan completely forgotten.

Morrigan made their way back to the wagon of wonders, mixing a cocktail at the drink bench before returning to the market. They gave the mass of enraged puppets a wide berth, leaning against a while while they enjoyed their drink. By the time Hytywyll returned from his task, he would find Morrigan enjoying a rainbow cocktail, whistling to themselves like an innocent angel while a hoard of angry men with rotting skin tore one another apart, utterly nonchalant about the knife sticking out of their shoulder.

---

1. Floral Gloves
2. Plague’s Pandemic

Both shows were going incredibly poorly. While Morrigan was failing to entertain the crowd outside, Hylltywyll watched as the crowd starting heckling the poor little teapot just as badly as they did the Fellblood.

Well, this was just mean. Even Hylltywyll wouldn't be this cruel to the thing. From the voice he heard through the table above him, it sounded like some innocent child that was on the verge of tears while being bullied. Just sad. It was entertaining when they did it to Morrigan, but not to some naïve kid that wanted to bring a little joy to this shithole.

With a small flash from the ring on Hyll;s finger, a trickle of water started to come from the teapot's spout. The crowd quieted down, apparently believing there to be something more to the performance, but the teapot and the announcer didn't know what was going on either.

The trickle picked up more and more until a cascade of water was bursting from the teapot's spout, far more water coming out than should have been able to fit inside it. The front row of the crowd choked and tried to block their faces with their arms as they found themselves in an unexpected splash zone. The whole building began to flood as the water continued to burst forth, the teapot screaming in fear and confusion, not knowing how this was happening.

While the crowd panicked from the flooding, they all suddenly felt an ominous feeling, a sick sense of dread. The panic in the room only intensified. When the water went back down to a trickle and then stopped completely, the room was knee-deep in water and the crowd felt chilled to the bone despite the water not actually being that cold.

A hole suddenly opened in the table and the teapot fell through it, right into a mischievously grinning Hylltywyll's arms. The announcer gasped in panic and ran over to the table, flipping it out of the way, but there was nothing there.

One of the soaking audience members looked around, the dread suddenly fading, and clapped lightly.

"That was actually pretty good." He commented, and another audience member slapped him in the back of the head.

Outside in the market, Hylltywyll walked straight out of the shadow beneath a wagon that had had all of its wheals stolen and replaced with cinderblocks with the teapot in his hands. He took one look at Morrigan, sipping on their cocktail, and pointed to the knife in their shoulder.

"That looks pretty good on you."

---

Tsarra's Eternity Ring- Flood
Foreboding Presence
Create Door
Hylltywyll's Shady Shelter

Morrigan, who was mid-sip of their cocktail, startled at Hylltywyll’s sudden reappearance. They choked on their drink, nearly spilling it all over themselves. “Again?” They shrieked, not even bothering to clean themselves up anymore. At this point they didn’t want to give Hylltywyll the satisfaction when the fairy seemed bound and determined to make their life a living hell.

And what in Ginma’s name was he talking about-? Oh, right, the knife. Morrigan flipped their hair over their shoulder, acting nonchalant. In reality, they were in incredible pain, but the charlatan had been stabbed enough times by Fish to know how to handle a blade to the gut without falling unconscious. “Oh, what, this?” They boasted. “It’s nothing. I always thought silver would look good on me. Now, are you ready to go give Dorian his new friend or not?”

Their bravado was undercut by the fact that they were clammy and shaking like a drenched puppy.

Hylltywyll Gave Morrigan an unimpressed look. The Fellblood looked more lilac than purple and was shaking. It was obvious they weren't well. He didn't really care for the flashy idiot's wellbeing, but if his partner died while he was out on a mission just to talk to a door, that'd probably be more trouble for him than he'd like to deal with. Those stuffy mages wished they could find a way to have him kicked out of the Guild, and they'd probably use something like that against him.

He slipped the teapot into the shadows of his poncho and climbed up onto Morrigan's shoulders again. With one firm yank, he pulled the knife out of Morrigan's shoulder. It was actually a pretty nice knife. The handle even had a little bit of filigree carved into it and the blade was polished and shiny. Or it would be, if it wasn't covered in Fell blood. After wiping it clean on Morrigan's clothes, he slipped the knife into his shadow too, adding it to his collection.

Knife safely(ish) removed from the wound, Hylltywyll held a hand on Morrigan's shoulder and a purplish glow came from his hand as the wound rapidly sealed and Morrigan's complexion almost immediately improved. After just a moment, the only evidence of the wound remaining was the damage to Morrigan's clothing and the copious amount of blood that had spilled from it. Not even a scar remained on the skin.

"I'll expect payment for healing you later, now let's go deliver a teapot."

---

Hylltywyll's Shady Shelter
Major Healing

Morrigan scrambled to get away when Hylltywyll started scrambling up their sides all the way up to their shoulders. “Ack, what are you doing - ow!”

Even worse than the pain of getting stabbed was the pain from having a knife pulled out of you like you were just some block of cheese that someone had driven the blade into. Even with a plethora of practice being a pincushion for Fish, Morrigan still wasn’t prepared for Hylltywyll to just… yank the blade out like it was nothing. They hissed, nearly biting their tongue as they clenched their teeth and remained upright. The pain dissipated in a few moments, as healing light washed over them.

Morrigan rolled their eyes.

“How about we say your payment is that shiny, pretty knife and call it even?” It wasn’t like they were going to pay for a service they could have easily taken care of themselves with alchemy and the magic stored in the gift ring from Kvasir. Nevertheless they made their way back to the basement of the Dancer’s Den, eager to return this new friend to Dorian and be done with this sadistic fairy and the mage’s guild altogether.

“First that demon Cirice Lunestre… now this… I’m beginning to think the Mage’s guild delights in inducting those with no sanity.” They grumbled under their breath as they stomped down the stairs to where Dorian was still waiting for the two, as he was incapable of going anywhere else. Thankfully, he’d ceased his screaming with the promise of a new companion for now, and had replaced it with singing. The singing was only slightly less obnoxious.

"Hmph! Can't pay me with something that wasn't even yours." Hylltywyll refuted, angrily giving some of Morrigan's hair a painful tug. He'd get some payment from them no matter how much they tried to deny it. He didn't heal jerkwads for free even if he had his own reasons to.

A shiver went down Hyll's spine as he heard mention of the name 'Cirice'. Her? What did Morrigan know about her? Did they know how much the Dark Fairy feared her? No, they couldn't. There's no way! Right? They wouldn't let them catch on. Just act natural, don't mention her at all. Pretend they hadn't said anything.

As they descended the stairs back down to the basement of the Dancer's Den, they could both hear the voice of Dorian, but instead of the shouting and screaming he'd been doing before, he was... singing? A jaunty tune filled the air as he hummed and sang an old bar song. One Hylltywyll found annoying.

"43 bottles of ale on the wall, 43 bottles of ale. Take one down, pass it around, 42 bottles of ale on the wall." He sang out before noticing their return.

"Oh, you're back! Well, did you find me someone?" He asked, looking as if he was trying to peak behind them, but his head couldn't move due to his lack of wooden neck. Hylltywyll climbed down from Morrigan and pulled the teapot out of his poncho, holding it up in front of the talking door.

"Ah! It was so dark in there!" The teapot shivered. "Where am I? Who are you?"

It was hard to tell where the teapot's attention was, since neither side of it had a face. The voice seemed to be coming from the opening of its spout though, so maybe that was the front, but it had been facing sideways on the stage. What a weird little thing.

"Is this my new friend? So you really did find another talking object. I wasn't expecting that! My name's Dorian." The door spoke, a bit surprised, but pleased nonetheless.

“We come bearing gifts!” Morrigan announced boldly, gesturing for Hylltylyll to pull out their newest find. The teapot adjusted to its new surroundings. It was difficult to tell what the teapot was looking at, as it did not quite have a face, but a little curl of steam rose from its spout. When asked for its name, the teapot seemed to spring to life.

“I’m Tina! Tina the Teapot!”

Tina the teapot and Dorian the door? Who the hell was napping these things? Morrigan hid a snicker behind their hand, not wanting to interrupt this joyful new blossoming companionship and earn Dorian’s ire again.

“Tina can even dance.” They moved to nudge Dorian in the door’s not-side, offering him a grin. “Not too bad, eh?”

“I can dance!” Tina agreed. Her enchantment seemed a little more simple than Dorian’s in terms of conversation, but she more than made up for it in enthusiasm. All in all… not a bad companion for a door who had little other prospects.

Doorian looked pleased. Even if Tina wasn't the most proficient conversationalist, she was at least someone to talk to and entertaining. Doorian watched as the teapot did a little jig on the ground, which was more like it shaking back and forth on its tiny porcelain legs than an actual dance, but she had the rhythm in her, that was for certain.

All in all, having the teapot's companionship was a drastic improvement to Doorian's previous situation of being all alone and bored down in the cellar all day. Hylltywyll and Morrigan could call this mission a success.

Doorian began merrily singing another bar tune for Tina to dance to. It seemed like bar tunes were the only songs the door knew, which made some sense considering he was installed in the cellar of the Dancer's Den, but still quickly grew annoying. Hylltywyll was ready to leave. The door now owed him a favor. He wasn't sure exactly when or how he might collect such a favor though. What could a door really do for him? Still, he had it now, and that was that.

"Time to go. Bye-bye." Hylltywyll said to Morrigan before walking right into the shadows between some large casks and disappearing and taking his leave.

Inside Morrigan's wagon, Hylltywyll crawled out from beneath a table and looked around for something shiny to steal that could serve as payment for the healing he'd given the Fellblood's shoulder. He had a suspicion they'd refuse to pay him for his services, but he would be sure to take his payment anyways, even if he had to do it without them knowing. While he was at it, he might as well charge a fee for the annoyance, a fee for each lie Morrigan had told him, a fee for his services in stealing the teapot, compensation for the mental trauma he'd suffered from them uttering Cirice's name...

When Morrigan finally got back to their wagon, they'd find barely anything remaining.

---

Hylltywyll's Shady Shelter

“Well, all’s well that ends well, yes?” Morrigan clapped their hands together, relieved that Dorian and Tina seemed to be getting along. Tina’s movements could less be described as proper dancing and more like shaking back and forth, but damn if she wasn’t good at that! And Dorian seemed happy, which meant they’d technically accomplished a mission for the Mage’s Guild without much hassle… aside from getting turned into a door.

Just as they were about to leave, though, Hylltywyll made a hasty retreat from Morrigan’s shoulder. The charlatan paused, furrowing their brows. That was it? No more tormenting Morrigan, no more trying to scalp them out of their money? That was far too easy. Something was wrong. Morrigan hastily left Dorian and Tina with a mumbled announcement of their departure, but the door and teapot didn’t even seem to hear it. Morrigan jogged up the stairs, waving at the bartender who’d served them earlier, and practically sprinted the rest of the way to their wagon…

Which was nearly empty.

If Hylltywyll was still around to see Morrigan’s reaction to the theft, he would see their face flash through a myriad of expressions - from disbelief to shock to hatred as they fell to their knees.

“Oh, the next time I see that demon, I am absolutely throttling them!”

"Heh. Good luck with that." Morrigan heard Hylltywyll's voice in their head through the mental connection that the Fairy hadn't cut yet.

Hylltywyll had greatly enjoyed witnessing Morrigan's reaction to their wagon being emptied of all its valuable, shiny things, and anything else the gremlin had taken even a slight liking to, Keeping the connection up had been so worth the meager amount of magic it required. He wished he could have seen their face, but that just wasn't possible using their own point of view unless they looked in a mirror. But that was impossible since he'd stolen all the mirrors.

He chuckled to himself and then finally severed the mental link, not caring to hear whatever attempt at a witty comeback or way to annoy him the Fellblood might try.

---

Mind Parasite