IN WHICH FENN BUGS a POTION MAKER

[FennWenn]

Thread of Nevin and Fenn! Mebby others if you talk with us about it!

Apparently, direwolves could catch fleas.

Not even monster fleas; just the itty bitty icky ones expected of common farm cats or household hounds. Fleas that burrowed into thick midnight-black fur and blended in, refusing to be combed out. Fleas that made Daugi roll around in the mud and scratch her whole length against rough trees trying to rid herself of them. Fleas that hopped off of her at random, causing Fenn to squeak-shriek in surprise and shy away.

The tiny fae himself was almost as miserable as his canine friend. Little grey bumps that itched and ached dotted him head-to-toe; stupid biting bugs. Thankfully, the fleas themselves never stayed on him for long. He suspected that his inky black blood didn’t agree with them very well. A part of him hoped it poisoned the little nuisances to death.

Still, it made him much less enthusiastic about riding her anywhere — which probably put out the poor wolf more than the bugs themselves.

And thus, that was how Fenn and Daugi had ended up plodding down a quiet street in Stonevale. They hadn’t planned on stopping by, but fuck if the two were going to suffer this for one more day. A few people fled to the opposite side of the street on sight of him. Fenn knew how he and his mount appeared to the outside eye; a pale plague-riddled street urchin tailed closely by an irritable specter of death, shedding little black bugs every now-and-again. Thankfully, more friendly locals had pointed them to a medicine-y shop that was supposed to belong to some guy married to a Nekojin. It didn’t take long for Fenn’s keen sense of direction to lead them to the right place. The advertising window displaying vial after vial of healing products helped too, he supposed.

Stay outside please, Fenn sternly signed to his ambiguously-canid friend. No spread little bugs.

“Auf,” the wolf growled back, not sounding too pleased. Scratching her back, she plopped her butt down and stayed in place as Fenn pushed open the door.

Inside the shop was wonderful. The whole place swam with magic-brightness; that weird, tingly-warm feeling he got around sorcery. Was it the medicines radiating the brightness, or something else? Everything was so shiny, so colorful. Light cast through the various potions on display threw multi-hued splotches of light around the shot. All these little vials with pretty liquids in side made his hands twitch in anticipation. Just one, his inner thief said. Just slip one of these shiny things into your bag. It’ll be fiiiiine. Maybe it’d come in useful someday! There was no concept of “going straight” in the little thief’s mind, but there was the concept of “people who I steal from won’t let me back into their stores again”. So, best to not do it. Or, at least not where he could be seen. Maybe another time.

Scratching the bumps on his face, the boy glanced to the counter. There was a red-haired man sitting behind it, muttering to himself as he wrote on a piece of paper. Something something, improvement, something something, if I increase that, then what if. It sounded as if he was working on something. That wouldn’t do; Fenn needed his attention much more! Cheerfully, the boy bounced up to the counter and peeked up over the edge at him. Without a word, he reached out to tap the top of the paper potion-man was working on. Boop! A harmless speckle of frost formed on the parchment.

The man glanced up at him, then back down at the paper, then- “Where did you come from?” the odd-looking man asked, dark eyes furrowed in sudden confusion at the tiny child staring up at him. “Ah, what do you need?”

Perfect! Now that he had the weird option-man’s attention, the little fae tapped a finger on the stained wood of the countertop; frost spread out from his touch. SELL FLEA REPELLANT, RIGHT? he scrawled in the ice crystals -- upside-down, so Nevin could read it. DUMB MUTT FRIEND CAUGHT TINY BUGS. NO LIKE THEIR BITING. NEED SOMETHING FOR ITCHY BITES TOO.

Fenn glanced to the shop’s display window. It wasn’t to the proudly paraded medicines and syrups that he looked, but past them. Outside, Daugi had grumpily pressed her face right up against the glass, tongue lolling over her monstrous teeth and out of her mouth. Slobber dripped in frothy pinkish rivers.

Clearly, she was not pleased at being left outside and away from him. Too bad though. Fenn wasn’t going to give this shop fleas. That was also a one-way trip to Bansville; population, one half-pint fae.

Snorting, Fenn added another sentence to his request. ALSO WOULD LIKE CANDY. SIGN SAYS THERE IS CANDY. His stomach rumbled in agreement.