When Crimson Met Crimson (Closed)

[FennWenn]

Something was just not right here.

Fenn puffed his cheeks out in frustration. His eyes were slightly crossed, probably from how much his sleep-deprived brain was trying to process at once. He didn’t know what was up, but he had a distinct unease about whatever blood-magic-stuff Amari had come for. Partially because Amari was just bad news waiting to happen in general, partially because… why on earth did she take off Nevin’s shirt? The boy was left in open-mouthed confusion, glancing between the two redheads and the torn garment abandoned on the floor. If she was yet another lady seeking the magic in those ironically chaste alchemist pants, then somehow, the little fae wouldn’t be surprised. Those rumors were juicy. But, that tear was too calculated. And she was talking crazy talk about blood -- and so was Nevin.

Oh, how he hated it when things went over his head.

The chair Fenn was sitting in was scooted closer to the counter by the meager force of his spindly legs. He hazarded taking a hand out of his cloak to frost over the desk -- first, knocking on the wood in order to make sure he wasn’t going unnoticed. MANY QUESTIONS. CONFUSED. he scrawled in addled, shaky strokes. The boy was very specifically not addressing Amari herself. SHE SPOOKY POWERS. POTIONS OF BLOOD WHY? FOR HER? KNOW HER? FENN KNOWS HER. HER FAULT?

For a moment the alchemist seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable as he glanced back at the writing (moreso than he already was without his shirt), while the she-rogue beside him had nothing but a cool smile. “Fenn, it has nothing to do with her. Don't go assigning blame to those innocent of it,” Nevin told him. “This is a different matter. And no, we’ve only just met.”

“Innocent” and “Amari” were words that did not compute well together. He wasn’t sure how safe he would be discussing it with her present, though. The last time her ire had been directed at the fae… IF SO SAY. LADY BAD. NO TRUST. FENN NOT STIRRED TROUBLE THIS TIME. NOT THROW TO CRAZY LADY. NEVER. NO. NOT EVER. OR CONSTABLE. MEH. SNEAKING WAY OUT OF JAIL AGAIN, BAD TIME USE.

Sure, Fenn liked the spindly excitement picking a lock or two, and the glee of slipping past guards, but he wasn't much in the mood tonight.