A Chef and a Wundersmith Walk Into a Murdergarden

Of Exhaustion and Poisonous Plants

Hollowpox spoilers!

Morrigan sighed in exhaustion as she flopped onto her bed. It had been one week since she had been released from the hospital. Sophia had returned to teaching after a few days off, and the world had been returned to normal. Well, mostly normal. Since the Wundrous Society still refused to comment on Morrigan's knack, the majority of the mob that had swarmed the Deucalion had given up; the consensus being that WunSoc had just been trying to distract people from the Hollowpox. There had been a few people that had refused to give up (Laurent St. James and a few of his stubborn crew specifically) but the Deucalion wasn't being swarmed by a mob anymore, so Morrigan thought of it as a win.

Frank had actually started planning a grand opening party for when the Deucalion reopened, something that was condoned by the Deucalion itself. The rooms that had been previously comatose were back to their normal shape. Even the terrarium full of spiders and seaweed curtains that had appeared in Morrigan's room were no longer there, something that she was immensely grateful for. Jupiter and others that lived in the Deucalion (a group that included Morrigan herself) were still somewhat worried about what would happen when the Deucalion reopened. It was something that couldn't really be predicted, but based on how quickly the press had moved onto the Hollowpox's "mysterious" disappearance, Morrigan had decided to shove it to the back of her mind and try to forget about it.

She grimaced when thinking about how close she had come to getting in trouble. Morrigan could tell that the Elders hadn't really believed her explanation. They had accepted it with a grain of salt anyways, because what else could they do? Morrigan had half expected them to force her to drink a truth potion and interrogate her until they got detailed answers. Thankfully, that was not how it had happened. Jupiter (hopefully) wouldn't have allowed that anyhow. Morrigan sighed into her pillow just thinking about it. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"Hey, emo. Are you planning to come to dinner, or are you going to stay there moping?" Jack's voice rang throughout her room, causing her to raise her head and glance around. Her tired eyes found him standing in her doorway with a raised eyebrow. Morrigan plopped her face back into the pillow.

"I am not emo."

"Yeah, right. I could hear that sigh from outside." She heard his footsteps get louder and her bed dipped down slightly. "You good Mog?" Morrigan groaned, attempting to come across as overdramatic.

"I'm getting slammed with homework already." Liar.

"Wow, I have no idea what that feels like." Jack gripped her bicep and pulled her up. "Come on, if I can manage to visit the Deucalion and finish all of my homework without giving up on everything, so can you." Mumbling under her breath, Morrigan let him drag her out the door and down the stairs towards dinner. It was pretty typical; Fen looking .2 inches away from murdering Frank, Martha and Charlie discussing something in low voices, Dame Chanda speaking about her next part in a grand play, and Jupiter off on a mission somewhere.

Finally, dinner ended and Morrigan was free to go back up to her room. Morrigan knew that she shouldn't have been that tired, it had only been a lesson over inferno. (Squall occasionally let her have a day of inferno, just to keep her skills sharp.) With Jupiter gone, her lessons with Squall tended to last longer than the average hour, something that Morrigan was both grateful for and felt bad doing. The guilt had been worse at first, slowly evaporating over time. It had gotten better once she realized that Squall wasn't going to teach her to kill people with the flick of her wrist, or create monsters to terrify her friends. So far they had been working on Morrigan's weaving skills. She had to admit that they could use some work, but it wasn't like she was awful! Squall made it seem like her work was child's play. Well, to him it could be, but it wasn't her fault! Unlike him, Morrigan hadn't been training since she was seven. Morrigan mulled over this as she changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. She finally slipped into bed, exhausted from the day's events and excited for the weekend. When sleep claimed her, Morrigan thought of it as a relief.

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"Come on, Morrigan. I need to get more death caps for my project in Cooking With Death," Francis said, ushering her out the side door to the Deucalion.

"I still can't believe that's an actual class. I mean, Cooking With Death? Dramatic much?" Morrigan scoffed.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. You're jealous." Francis smirked. "You'd love to have a class where you learned how to use poison, wouldn't you?"

"What? Why would I-" He raised an eyebrow at Morrigan and she huffed in defeat. "Fine. It would be cool." Francis hummed in response and turned onto Sicina Lane.

"We have to cook or bake something that has poison in it. The grade is based on (a) what the poison can do if it's not cooked properly and (b) what the dosage of the poison is. It has to taste good too, obviously."

"And you chose death caps? Why those?"

"Well, I've been cooking with them since I was like nine. So, y'know, I'm experienced. Also you have to have a very low dose to avoid killing anyone. They taste delicious and smell like honey, so that's a bonus point for me."

"I'll admit, I am slightly afraid of you poisoning me and getting away with it," Morrigan half joked. He made a face at her.

"You think that I, a simple chef, would dare try to poison a Wundersmith? Jail for the Wundersmith! Jail for 1,000 years!" The two both giggled at Francis's joke, pausing next to a park bench to laugh and earning a few strange looks in the meantime. They finally got themselves back under control and continued walking past the houses on Eldritch Street. The two approached a building with silver letters labeling it the Eldritch Murdergarden. It had been painted a dark purple, with a black canopy hanging over the door. She could see vines climbing up the window from the inside. Stopping just outside the entrance, she felt her unit-mate tweak her hood. She glanced up at him from under it. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were unrecognizable."

"I think I'm pretty unrecognizable," Morrigan said and gestured at her fully zipped jacket and her hood.

"And I agree." Francis opened the door for her. "Welcome to the Murdergarden!"

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An hour or so later (Francis had gotten into a long discussion with the cashier. Apparently, she and his Aunt Hester were friends, and she had known him since he was a baby. Morrigan had been half tempted to eavesdrop but decided the many, many killer plants surrounding her were much cooler instead) the two exited the shop, Francis with his death caps and Morrigan with a purple nightshade she had found. Martha had been saying how her room could use a bit more cheer. The deadly plant's bright flowers certainly could provide that. The two split ways on Humdinger Avenue, Francis needing to be back to his house before 5 o'clock. As Morrigan waved goodbye, she was suddenly flooded with gratitude for her unit mates. She was so grateful that they'd been able to pass the loyalty trial and had stuck by her side throughout the Hollowpox. Morrigan knew she'd trust them with her life and her secrets. Maybe, just maybe, she'd tell them about Squall.

(Notes: I'm on tumblr and ao3 with the same name, shout at me if you want!)