Blood, Frost, and Cheerful Tongues

Nevin sighed as he organized the vials along his shelves. Most of what was on the shelves were antidotes - both to common poisons, and a few special blends that he had to develop recently. There had been a rash of people dying in the last week or two, to strange poisons. Nevin had managed to get a sample of a few, and had created serums that could help the victim pull through.

There were other things on the helped, a few medicines for different illnesses, a few simple drugs that wouldn't hurt anyone, things like that. A simple pharmacologist's shop, with the odd blood potion thrown in from time to time, things to help with healing, stamina and the like.

But here in Radasanth, Nevin's primary source of business was custom brews. As the sun set, he opened up shop. A trickle of customers came in - children rushing to see if he had any candies today, some parents looking for medicine for their families. The normal early evening rush for him. It would be later, as the hours stretched on, that the more disreputable clientele would come in.

Of course, if there there was anyone who screamed "disreputable", it would be one half-elf named Ven. Not in the traditional sense mind you, never in the traditional sense. To Ven, if something was traditional, it was boring, and if it was boring he rarely bothered.

No, Ven was disreputable in the sense that he was nearly unpredictable. If traditions and normality were adverse to him, then unconventional and spontaneous was his lifeblood.

That also meant that Ven loved to take the odd jobs.

His current job was to visit a up and coming potions shop to acquire some rare ingredients and potions for Archie (most of his odd jobs in Corone cane from him). Not that he cared much about that aspect, he was finally happy to be able to do something again.

Ever since getting injured on his last job and the whole situation with Eteri, Archie had refused to give him any jobs. It was only after much compl- negotiating that he finally let up.

Thus, this brought Ven to where he was now. Double checking to make sure he had the address right, Ven then proceeded to enter the shop. Ven scanned the shop, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Huh... This is much more official that I thought. This can't be the right place," he said to himself. His eyes then fell onto the only other person in the room, whom he noted must really like black and red.

"Uhh, hi. Do you work here?"

Under the uneven skyline of the city-state, a childish fae roamed. His feet skimmed over cobblestone. His hands skimmed over unattended pockets.

Fenn had been planning on chasing some rumors.

First, was the rumor he overheard that Banrion had become very interested in. The one of the church of blood. He didn’t question why she wanted to know more about it. Though she wasn’t so outspoken in her curiosities as Fenn was, the young puck had always gotten the sense that her appetite for knowledge was just as monstrous as his -- or perhaps even moreso. Maybe she merely wanted to know what such a strange thing was all about. Maybe she had other plans. Whatever they were, it wasn’t like he was going to get any answers out of those scaly lips.

Second, was his rumor. Well, maybe this one was first, because he was certainly planning on looking into it first! Either way. Helpful whispers had told him that there was a new venue in town, a place where poisons and antidotes could be bought or sold with no questions asked. He already had poison though, one darkened with blackberries, sitting daunting in his bag. What he actually wanted was of a more personal nature. The description of this shop’s keeper had been of a redhead with unusually dark eyes. Fascinating? Did it, dare he say, sound like a new friend of his had set up shop? Fenn had already seen Nevin around Radasanth once. Probably, he had set up a second shop here! If he had, it was the puck’s sworn duty to drop in for a visit “hello” and possibly to pilfer some candy.

Or, he was going to do that — later. Before he actually tried chasing the rumor, Fenn had been stocking up his coin stash.

Eager hands grabbed anything audacious enough to twinkle in his line of sight. Oh pretty, pretty little trinkets. Is there anything pretty in these streets? What’s that? A shiny earring on the ground? Yoink! It was his now. Pretty, pretty… nice in his pockets. He was definitely going to need more of that. A dapper man had muttered something under their breath about the biting wind. Maybe that was because he had cold, hard cash on him… As he slipped past, Fenn’s hand deftly slipped his hand into a bulging pocket and made off with one heavy wallet. There. Now the guy ought to be a little warmer.

Oh? She. She over there, in the guard’s uniform. She had pretty trinkets on her belt. A wallet, and a pair of light cuffs.

Sssssss!

“Hey!”

The cuffs were iron. The wallet was dropped. The little fae was on the run from the authorities.

Again. Oh well, it happens.

His left hand throbbed painfully as he nipped around startled passerby. Stupid iron. Worst metal. There was shouting behind him, a clamour of indignant guards. Weaving through the streets was easy. Fenn’s mind had a few mental maps of the city drawn up — no dead-ends for him! There was a distinct lack of specific destination in mind except away. He was quick for a while, far ahead of his pursuers, but his short little legs would run out of energy at some point.

On a fairly empty street, the boy collapsed against a wall and figured it was time to change his guise. His mind flickered over a few possible forms. John Cromwell? Banrion? No, too attention-catching. Daugi wouldn’t fly. Maybe- yes. He could hear the guards catching up. Nevin it was. Fenn waved a hand in his own direction, his fingertips frosty and warm-bright with magic. Cold wind swirled around him. It condensed into a memory-patched version of the red-haired, dark-eyed, polite-but-distant alchemist.

He forgot he had this ability quite a bit, but it was very useful when Fenn remembered.

A moment later, guards hurried past — well, except for one slightly scrawnier fellow at the end. He stopped, wheezing. His gaze turned to Fenn, who stiffened in slight worry. “Hey. You see a blonde kid run by? Shady one, hood drawn up, green cloak, can’t be more than three feet tall.”

What? An awfully irked eyebrow was raised. If he wasn’t currently in disguise, he would’ve recoiled and raged. He was definitely more than three feet tall! Fucking n’urd. Get better eyesight. Fenn shrugged and shook his head, and the Glamour veil cast around him mirrored his movement, shedding a few unnoticed snowflakes. These illusions were delicate.

The guard cursed under his breath. “Thanks,” he called back as he surged ahead to catch up with his group.

Fenn stuck out his tongue and pulled on his eyelid. N’urd. Sucker. Loooooooooser.

Already, his Glamour was weakening. The puck lifted up a Nevin-looking hand to his face and studied the tiny holes in his facade, wondering if it was worth expending any energy to refresh it. Why was it that he could constantly radiate ice, but got winded trying to hold up this flimsy disguise? Sighing, Fenn took a glance around. Maybe it was a good idea to find a place to hide now. Under the veil, his bog-green eyes spotted something curious. His flight had taken him to a street with-

Ohh? Yes. Alright. This shop, here; it was new to him, and alchemist-y. Nevin worked this.

This would be an excellent hiding spot.

The boy stole into the store, cradling his singed hand resentfully. At the counter inside the shady, well-enough-organized interior was indeed Nevin. A second Nevin, what with Fenn currently disguised as him. The elf-y looking white-hair man seemed familiar to Fenn, and it didn’t take too long for the young puck to place it. He had seen the guy at a bar once. Dude had been with a blue-haired catlady, and Fenn distinctly remembered his face being one of the ones that he had passed multiple times while trying to avoid capture by a plantfaeperson who was very mad at having her deck of cards lifted right from under her nose.

Fenn lived in a strange, strange world.

As casual as a dandelion among daisies, the young puck rubbed his eyes and leaned against the wall. The second-Nevin-appearing Glamour around him flickered out and broke apart into paper-thin swathes of snow. It was probably for the better. Focused magic took a lot out of him. He probably needed to practice it more often.

New goals ticked off on his fingers. Hide from the guards, get some salve for this sickly burn, don’t let Nevin know that sketchy things were going on. Fenn figured he could do that much.

Well, that was a rather different question than I normally get asked. The fellow speaking was a half-elf, and seemed a bit confused as he walked into the shop. He had looked around several times, glancing down at the paper, before muttering to himself. I didn't quite hear what he muttered under his breath, but I did catch the disbelieving tone to the words before he spotted me and walked over. I tilted my head to one side, an eyebrow raising up as I studied him for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I should hope so. My name is Nevin -
I own and operate this store. Can I help you?" Well, this wouldn't be the first time one of the local gangs had sent someone to pick things up for them. He had a bit of a different look to him though - a trace of apathy was hidden behind the confusion, his eyes were just a hair too slack. Still, it wasn't my place to pry. "Are you here picking up for someone?" Try to give the confused man an out, that seemed wise.

Before the man responded, the door jingles, and I walked in. Wait. What? I blinked and narrowed my eyes, my threads shifting in agitation beneath my skin. Was this another skinshell, worn by one of those twisted thread things? Before I could vault the counter and get the bystander to safety - I was actually in the air over the counter when this happened - the image of myself, leaning against the wall shattered into a cloud of snowflakes.

Left behind, his small chest heaving a bit from exertion - probably because of whatever magic he had been using - was Fenn. I landed on the other side of the counter, my eyes widening for a moment then narrowing. Well, if I'd had any doubts as to whether or not Fenn was Fae, those were well and truly dispersed at this point. Glamour, illusion magic. And it had seemed fairly accurate - or rather, it was accurate to what I had looked like the last time Fenn had seen me. His illusion hadn't included my tunic or whip, and still bore the long sleeved shirt and gloves am had worn to hide my skin.

"Fenn. Why in the name of the Great Flow of Crimson were you disguising yourself as me?" I didn't mind if the child acted as a thief. I did mind my appearance being used in conjunction with those acts, though.

Ven blinked, then turned around to see what exactly caused the man, who apparently was named Nevin and was the owner of all things, to detract his attention away from him. Turning caused Ven to see what could only be Nevin's twin, for they looked nearly identical to one another. Ven noted the differences in clothing.

The twin theory would have probably held up too if it wasn't for said supposed twin falling apart in a puff of snow. Scratch that, it probably would have still held up. Magic shenanigans explained quite a lot in his opinion. Besides the leaping of the counter he had witnessed not moments earlier was clearly a sign of excitement being displayed by Nevin upon seeing the sibling he shared the womb with. Twins had a weird bond like that.

Alas it was the small, blonde person in green that replaced the doppelganger that solidified that this person was, in fact, not the twin of the self identified Nevin.

Nevin also appeared to recognize said fellow, calling him Fenn. Specifically with the double "n". Having the double "n" was the strictly inferior spelling of a name with a "en" in it. He would know, he had a sense for this sort of thing. However, he couldn’t blame someone for the bad choices of their parents.

Looking more at this Fenn fellow, Ven had the strangest feeling that he had met this individual before, or at least had seen them somewhere not worthy.

Ven closed his eyes for a second, rapidly shifting through his memories. Person in green, person in green… No, that was a farmer… Aha! The tavern! He never did catch the name of the tavern, mostly looking for a place to escape the rain from, but he he saw this Fenn at the same tavern where he met up with Eteri and her sister. While being more focused on those two, he did remember looking over to see him causing a commotion.

This made Ven smile. A person after his own heart, following the tenets of mischief and general shenanigans. He could appreciate that.

“Well, Mr. Nevin, if I had to guess, something amusing. I mean, I never met a man who spoke in red before. Judging on your familiarity, I bet he just couldn’t resist emulating himself after your dashing good looks,” he said is a boisterous tone.

He then looked between the two of them before mock pouting. “But now I feel like the odd man out.” He then smirked. “Well, I will need to rectify that. My name is Venex. Venex Apara to be precise, but please, call me Ven. Everyone does. And now that everyone knows each other's name, we aren’t strangers anymore.”

Fenn probably should have thought about whether it was a good idea or not to show up as a second Nevin right in front of the actual, original Nevin before opening the door. After all, people were normally taken aback by meeting a double of themselves. It made one thing suspicious sneaky things were going on. The alchemist had been given such a fright that he leapt over the counter as if he intended to fight the little fae!

A greyish tinge took to his ears.

How was he to explain this..? “I made myself look like you so that I could avoid going to jail again because picking locks and sneaking out is always time-consuming” might not go over well. Fenn held up a hand a moment, trying to come up with a good reason for his hasty disguise, but quickly falling short. How about he just… not? There was white-hair-elf Ven here to be chatty and distract everyone! Whatever “speaks in red” meant, an enthusiastic nod was given upon the ridiculous reason of emulating Nevin’s “dashing good looks. There were dumber reasons to guise oneself as someone else. With a frosty twitch of his fingers, he flicked up a new guise; a quick mirror-image of Ven himself, wiggling his eyebrows in a silly way.

He did not have the energy to sustain such a silly sight for long. Just as quickly, it fell apart in a flutter of snow.

Running had made him tired. The burn on his hand still stung. The illusions made him mind feel slightly melty... He wanted very badly to sit down. There was a swooshy swaying feeling in him, and he was pretty sure he was going to fall over if he didn’t set his ass down somewhere anyway. Since Nevin did not seem to be using his chair behind the counter anymore, and he was just that tired, the puck decided that it was time to steal a seat. Frost tracked across the floor as Fenn wobbled over behind the counter to claim the chair for his own.

In any case, this new-person-elf Ven was a curious fellow, and Fenn found himself wondering why he was here.

Nevin slowly turned his head back to look at the customer, raising an eyebrow as he did so. The alchemist made sure to keep one eye on Fenn though - he didn't want the Fae making a break for it when he wasn't paying attention after all. What the man had said was quite possibly one of the strangest, and at the same time most concerning things he had ever heard. He cleared his throat.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean when you say I talk in red, Goodman Ven. As far as I'm aware I don't speak in colors, just in words like anyone else. Additionally -" Nevin turned back around to watch Fenn more closely. Now that he was up close, and none of the lingering traces of snow were falling around him, he could see that the boy looked... Exhausted. His ears, normally quite perky, had their tips drooping, and a paler grey hue had spread across them. The blonde was also trembling a bit, his chest heaving and his legs shaking.

The Fae had been exerting himself, and rather strenuously, recently. Nevin grimaced internally and shelved his questions for the moment - he would ask more later, when there wasn't a customer in the shop. For now, he would let sleeping dire wolves lie. So when Fenn tried to distract them, creating an image of Ven in the air for a moment, he was content to simply nod with a slight frown. Fenn's condition worsened when he did that - was using his illusion magic that difficult for him?

The small blonde trudged back behind Nevin's counter and slumped down in the abandoned chair, and the redhead sighed and shook his head again, hair dancing about his head as he sighed in exasperation. He stalked over to the counter, and long slender fingers plucked up a candy and unwrapped it before placing the small golden orb on the wood in front of Fenn. That done, he turned his attention back to the actual customer.

"My apologies for this, Goodman.
Fenn is... An acquaintance, and lives with my apprentice in Stonevale when he is in that town. I feel some measure of responsibility for him, even if he is well capable of looking after himself. Now then, sorry for the interruption. What can I do for you?" Let Fenn rest and recover while he talked with this surprisingly loud individual.

Ven blinked, then smiled and clapped his hands together. "Yes, onward to business my fellow good man person!" He then pulled out a sealed envelope from pocket on the inside of his coat, then handed it to the crimson themed alchemist. "My friend boss quasi adoptive grandfather figure has heard of your shop, and he asked me to get some ingredients he otherwise couldn't attain elsewhere. Well, probably not true, but coming through an official front is so much more convenient for him. Meanwhile, I agreed because I was just so DAMN bored. I had to get out, do something! I was going mad! Boredom is a disease, and it’s dastardly one at that. It crawls its way in, leaching off of you like a terrible parasite it is, slowly driving one insane until they finally break. You turn into a hollow shell of the man you once were. Stronger men than myself have fallen to it’s terrible power, men thought to be untouchable! Yet I survived! Mr. Nevin, the next victim could have been myself! I could have been the next victim to the terrible epidemic! It could have been me!”

Ven then took a breath, as he said everything very loudly, very dramatically, and in rapid a fire session. He raised a finger, signaling he needed just a moment, then continued on, albeit not so loud. “So really, I should thank you, because this meeting has saved me.”

Ven then proceeded to bear hug Nevin to show his appreciation, lifting him off his feet or a moment. He then backed away and gave a content sigh. “Ahhh, I feel so much better. Thank you again. Now to business... Again”

Ven motioned to the letter. “If I know Archie, that letter is going to be asking for the strongest paralysis and sedatives you have got available. Don’t ask me how I know, because the answer is I read the letter before it was sealed. Now can you provide?”

Candy? Fenn beamed and greedily snatched the shiny snippet of delicious gold for his own. It was immediately shoved into his mouth. Mmm. Nom. Honey-flavor. That helped him get some of his energy back. With a content sigh, the little puck laid his head down on the desk, eyes half closed in sugar bliss as he listened in on the conversation between alchemist and elf. Nakknakknakk, came their words. Boredom was indeed a disease, the boy agreed with a very serious and sagely nod of his head. It was the worst disease. Luckily, Fenn knew from experience that a good dose of shenanigans or adventure usually cleared it right up. When had that ever gone wrong for him?

(That was a hypothetical question, and one he had no intention of actually pondering.)

Ven was still doing the talking thing. Vaguely, the puck wondered what color he himself spoke in. Y’know, if he could speak. Green, he decided. Green was a good color. His eyes were kind of green, which he figured was like how Nevin’s hair was red, and Nevin apparently spoke in red-

And suddenly Nevin was swept off of the ground into a squeezy elf-hug. From behind the desk, Fenn’s jaw dropped as far down at it could go. The candy nearly fell out of his mouth. Meanwhile, the boy himself leaned in for a better look at this strange phenomenon, his pupiless eyes bugging out of his head. This stranger -- he trod on dangerous territory! The alchemist was a prickly sort! Were Ven to get out of this alive, notes would have to be taken. No, Fenn didn’t need hugs. He was fine, always fine. Definitely. But maybe Nevin would need hugs at some point in the future. Very definitely probably. It might be bitter medicine for none other than a nearby fae to dispense. And not an opportunity to clinch a new wallet. Not at all.

Sweet Crimson Flow. Why in the name of the Flow Unending was this stranger babbling on - about boredom as of it was a disease? There were actual, legitimate medical issues, that is what Nevin dealt with as an Alchemist, not - not someone being bored and whining about it! Oh Crimson, it looked like he wasn't about to stop talking any time soon either.

From the corner of his eye, the Alchemist, Nevin saw that Fenn had taken the candy, and did seem to be perking up a little. The redhead didn't know what the Fae had been doing that had wiped him out so much, but at least a bit of sugar was helping - wait why had Fenn's eyes gone wide?

That was all the warning that Nevin had as he registered that the stranger, Ven, had stopped talking. He swung his head back around - but too late, arms were wrapped around his chest in a powerful hug, and he was hoisted from the ground. There was a heartbeat of time where the redhead tried to process what was happening and then his brow furrowed in distaste. He shoved away from the stranger with an intense frown as the man gave a content little sigh.

"I would say I'm glad you feel better but do not hug me again. I do not like people touching me without permission." Nevin straightened his tunic with a huff, his eyes narrowed at Ven. He turned back to put the letter on the counter to examine it, and caught the way Fenn was staring at him with wide, wide eyes still. He sighed. He could almost see what was running through the boy-Fae's mind.

"You may hug me once, Fenn. Don't bother looking for my wallet though, I've left it locked up as I normally do when I'm in the store." Nevin's voice was aggravated as he slit the letter open and double checked the messenger's words. He sighed as Fenn came around, and looked towards Ven.

" I have what he is asking for. I have general usage products, or, it you can obtain a list of what races these are intended for use on, I can customize a batch of each."

Ven looked at Fenn, then at Nevin, the back to Fenn again before chuckling. "Well I can provide specifics quite easily new best friend you big softie you. Admit it, you like hugs!"

Ven knew he wouldn't of course, not right now, not out loud. Even with this limited interaction, he got pretty good feel of Nevin's type, prickly like a cactus. Fortunately for Ven, he was an expert botinist, he read up on plant care in several books! That basically makes him a genius.

But alas, now was not the time to flaunt that. He had a job to do and he really needed to stop getting distracted. Focus!

Then focus he did. Like a switch, Ven went from full on joking mode to casual business mode (Which is realistically the best you'll get out of him given most any situation).

"We will definetlt need to go with the specifics. General stuff has too much risk for failure, not that I doubt your work. Obviously human, as well as elves, dwarves, a variant for drow if possible, though not not entirely necessary, reptilian based creatures, personas with dracinic if infernal heritage in their blood- samples can be provided if needed- and a minotaur."

Ven shook his head as he said the last part. "Don't ask. Seriously, just don't."

He then looked back at Fenn, who took full advantage of the free hug while Ven listed off what he needed. "Speaking of serious stuff, how come you Mr. Fenn haven't said anything to myself? We can't become good friends if you dont converse?"

Startled at the verbal acknowledgement of his thoughts, Fenn accidentally swallowed his honey candy.

Embraces were not foreign to him, but it took him half a moment to process the idea of initiating this sort of affection himself. Normally, hugs were initiated by other people. Ones who had decided Fenn was the cutest little child-looking-thing in the vicinity and couldn’t restrain their “coddle this” instincts any longer. Everything from phauns to curious briar-fae had squeezed him in a warm arm-blanket of squee. Of course, Salvar would melt before Nevin would do such a thing. But for Fenn to initiate the hug? The boy thought about it hard enough to make his buggy green eyes cross over each other, and a frown to squish his face. How strange!

While Ven continued to do the business-talking thing with Nevin -- Fenn bothered to understand none of it -- the little fae flitted out from behind the desk and clumsily swooped in for his promised hug. Ka-squish!

Hrmm. Nevin was bony. And his robes smelled faintly of blood. And he wasn’t really good at the whole hugging-back thing.

What a disappointing drain of dignity.

“Tall” was not a word one would ascribe to Fenn. After a moment of awkwardly clinging to the alchemist’s waist, he let go and skittered back behind the desk as if nothing had ever happened. This was about the time he decided to address the one bit of talking this Ven-man had aimed at him. What did Ven mean by “haven’t said anything?” The fae had said many things today! It was just that none of these things had been verbal. Fenn sighed. The elf was not the nimblest wire in the pick-locking kit.

A patch of foggy ice crystals appeared on the desk, underneath his ready hands. TALK IN ACTIONS AND FROST, the little fae explained in writing. TALK TO MUTT FRIEND WITH HANDS.

On second thought, he added an aside mostly meant for Nevin. MORE CANDY? GONNA HIDE HERE FOR A FEW HOURS.

In hindsight, Ven probably should have paid more attention to the little frost fae. Previously, he was was focused on Nevin, and that focus made him tune out Fenn almost entirely. It was that weird situation where you know someone is there but don't really react. Of course, with how Ven's mind worked, it eventually shifted focus to Fenn. When he did, Ven had to blink a few times. When he focused on Fenn, he could hear him speak, if speaking was what you would call it. He didn't move his mouth, but he could hear words. They were soundless, yet they were full of emotion and cheer, and had an strange echo effect to them.

Where he did not hear Fenn then, he did now.

"Ahh, well, sorry about that. I must have not heard you earlier," he explained to the fae. "My mind often wanders when I'm focused on something, and sometimes miss a thing or two."

He then gave a apologetic smile before moving on. "That being said, I'm more of spring than a wire. The ice thing is cool too, pun intended. Though why write words when you can speak them? You've clearly shown your ability to talk, and really, writting is for letters and signs."

Nevin stared, strangely, at Ven. He went so far even as to take a few steps back and away from the babbling other man, because now he was concerned. The man seemed to be responding to things no one had said - or, perhaps, to their thoughts. And mind readers were always difficult to deal with, because they'd know what you did before they did it. Fenn had written, nothing of wires, and he'd certainly said nothing at all. The boy was mute, incapable of words - and Nevin had seen him enough times to know that that was not an affectation. No - this Ven seemed to be peering into the Fae's mind.

"Can you, please, stay out of our heads? I find I quite value my privacy." Nevin had gotten stiffer, and was now a fair bit ornery. Only a part of it was over the fact that this man seemed to be pilfering the thoughts from their minds - the other part of it was at how blatant and callous he was being about his actions. Nevin slid himself between the exhausted Fae and the mind reader, blocking the direct line of sight to the blond child.

Fenn had asked for candy - and in that, asked for shelter. Nevin had been initially inclined to toss the little thief back out after letting him recover - but now, he didn't think it would be Fenn that was being thrown through the door. His dark red eyes narrowed as he watched Ven.

Ven was in… his head?

Fenn froze in place, squinting in addled tiredness at the half-elf, somewhat shocked by this turn of events. At the same time, a part of him was enthusiastic about this. Great! Yes! Good! A line of direct communication! Like with Vincent, when Vince was still around. Yet -- no! Fenn had not invited this Ven-man into his mind, and his mind was very much his own private property, thank you very much. The boy had no patience for those who would rifle through his belongings as he rifled through random pockets. And his thoughts were his belongings to be shared as he deemed fit. Though, if he had mind-reading powers, Fenn figured he’d put them to good use himself. After all, he could trust himself! He was responsible! But what was Ven?

So naturally, conflicted as he was, the boy simply sighed and laid his head down on the desk -- it smelled like walnut polish -- and wondered where he could snag a mind-reader-deterring artifact of some kind. Or if he actually needed one. Or if they even existed. They had to exist, right?

In a display of some strange paternal chivalry, Nevin had thrown himself between Fenn and Ven the Mind Man. Could mind-readers read minds if another person was in the way? Fenn didn’t know the rules of mind-readery. Either way, he lifted his head up and craned over to peer at Ven. His stare was narrow and uncertainly accusatory.

Explain yourself, Mind Man.

Ven was confused. Very confused. Very very very confused. Stay out of their heads? he thought to himself, Well that cannot be right.

He then looked between both Nev and Fenn, and seeing them look at him with a calculated stare made him all the more confused. They were apparently upset with him for some reason. How could he mess with privacy? How was he in their heads? It as alomst as if they though he was a... "Mind reader," he said softly. "You think I'm a mid reader?"

Ven then burst out laughing, laughing so hard that he had to sit down, crying, because he was laughing so hard. Really, he couldn't help himself. He found the situation amusing.

"When he finally calmed down and whipped away the tears, he looked at them both. "I'm sorry, but I believe there was a misunderstanding. I am not a mind reader. I'm nowhere near that special. At best, I'm a half-elf who has a way with words. But I think... I think I may have found the problem."

"You," he pointed at Fenn, "don't speak words out loud much do you?" Fenn shook his head.

"Thought so. But then the obvious question is how I could understand! And the answer to that is... Well... I'm not actually quite sure. I've always been able to understand what people say to me, and in turn, I've always been able to communicate back. Fenn here... Every action, his every move, it radiates something... It's very strange to me, but when I see how he moves- how you move Fenn, words- no not words- feeling- intent- understanding... In that moment, it appeared in my mind."