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.