[Open] ~The Wayward Soul.~

[FennWenn]

Well well well! No dramatic shenanigans had to occur today; a convenient offering of food satiated the little puck before he could even gesture the notion into other’s awareness. Sometimes, there were advantages to belonging to a group with a reputation of being patently unpredictable off-kilters, even when oneself was (relatively) stable.

The gaggling group had eventually gotten themselves out of the rain and into the Slaughtered Lamb. Water puddled up and froze his feet. Walking into the establishment, Fenn felt a sense of unease prickle the back of his neck underneath his cuff of fluff. It wasn’t bad here, oh no. There was just something familiar about it. Deja vu? His antennae twitching, he stepped over the tarnished wooden floor, squinting up at the warm lanterns lighting the establishment. He must have been here… before. Before he became what he was now. Before his memories had fled him.

Hey was that-

Oh! Keeara! Cheerfully, the little mite of a fae waved to the dragonite, wings ahum with glee, shedding a gust of cold air and a few snowflakes all the while.

She sat at a round table all by her lonesome, nursing a drink. Nursing several, actually. The barkeep, anticipating Keeara’s vast booze-related needs, set a couple of new mugs down on the table beside her, murmuring bashfully about tabs that needed to be paid by the adventurer’s leave. He didn’t seem terribly phased by the strange guests floating about. And why would she be? This town was frequented by all sorts of odd types, Fenn knew; it was one of those “on the way” stops to many places. Not to mention that odd types like that red-haired alchemist he was supposed to reconnect with lived here.

With the smuggest of smiles, Fenn resolved to see if she’d spare him a mug later. What could he say? Stealing and drinking were habits equally well-ingrained within him.

But that was a plan for later. Fenn’s boggy-green bug eyes flicked over to a table for two, suddenly shared by none other than Yvvie, the mysterious warm lad, and a couple of romantic candles. Yes, the small puck did not know much about romance, but he knew a thing or two about what people were nice and good to hang out with, and he figured the two areas overlapped significantly enough. It was now his duty to inspect his friend’s curious lover for signs of quality!

And steal some of their breadsticks. That too.