.png)
The door to one certain alchemist’s shop opened with a rattle and a bang as one mothy fae streaked inside, fluff and antennae alike tangled by the icy winds outside. His wings quivered even after he landed on the floor — a sure sign he’d been putting vodka in his coffee again.“Supplies!” he yelled, gleefully interrupting whatever it was that Nevin was up to at that moment. “And stuff.”
Fenn was getting used to his visits to the alchemist. Maybe too used to. The shop actually felt a little comfortable to him, despite the barrage of herbal smells that still made his poor, overwhelmed antennae hide in his hair. He was thirsty from his flight over. The fae licked his dry lips and set his bag on a bare spot of counter with a heavy whumpt. They could sort through the herbs and such in a minute.
“Brought you some rosemary, some mugwort,” he rattled off carelessly, “and I’ve been looking at the forest too. Researching plants that actually got some magic to them. I been reading alchemy too, so maybe I can help make new stuff sometime, and… Oh! Oh…”
With considerably less glee, the fae pulled a crumpled wad of money out of his pocket and slide it over. He was… tight on money. For reasons. But paying Nevin correctly for what he did was a necessary due for their “business”, and Fenn liked to keep his promises; it prevented future headaches induced by feeling wishy-washy with his word.
“That’s your cut of the good stuff. What’s you working on?”
@Nevin
