17 March 1895, St Paddy's Day Fest, Silverwand Cauldrons

Officially, Delilah was here to purchase some more cauldrons because she seemed to be running low on them recently. It was meant to be a quick trip, although it didn't mean she couldn't have a little bit of fun while she was here. It would only take a moment, after all. She'd already handed her coin to the attendant and now she was patiently waiting for the person in front of her to pick a cauldron to stick their hand in.

They were taking their sweet time though, so attendant finally motioned her forward. Lila chuckled to herself, eyeing the few cauldrons before deciding to take a closer look at the center one. It was bubbling, each one a different color from the next, although they weren't hot so it wasn't going to hurt if she stuck her hand in. She either was going to get jinxed or make her money back.

Just as she went to put her hand into the cauldron next to her, the cauldron next to her's exploded with a jinx - looks like the person had chosen wrong. Lila squeaked and jumped to the side so she wouldn't be hit by anything. Then her hand flitted to her mouth as she tried not to laugh.

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Thaddeus had little patience for places like this—crowded, noisy, filled with people who lacked the discipline to conduct themselves with decorum. Yet, duty called. His father, for all his brilliance, was notoriously difficult to shop for, and Thaddeus had resolved to procure something both practical and of the highest quality: a top-tier cauldron, worthy of a man of his stature.

He strode past the lesser wares with a sharp eye, ignoring the hum of conversation and the occasional bursts of misfired jinxes from the novelty cauldrons some fool had set up as entertainment. Then, finally, something caught his eye—a finely crafted cauldron, polished obsidian with intricate runic inlays. It had an air of sophistication, power. Yes, this would do.

He reached out, gloved fingers brushing the rim, when suddenly—

Snap.

A sharp, magical bite clamped onto his hand. His lips pressed into a thin line, irritation flashing in his dark eyes. The cauldron refused to release him. How quaint.

A muffled sound of stifled laughter reached his ears. Thaddeus turned his head sharply, catching sight of a young woman—dark-haired, amused—attempting, and failing, to suppress her mirth. He exhaled slowly, reigning in the instinct to shoot her a withering look. He had his public face to maintain, after all.

"Charmed, I'm sure," he said dryly, flexing his fingers as the cauldron finally relinquished its grip. "Tell me, does watching strangers wrestle with defective merchandise always bring you such delight, or is today a special occasion?"

  

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