In her durance as servant to the Good Doctor, she had been sent all manner of places, from wild and tangled woodlands to pearlescent spire cities to choked and grimy alleyways. Some might have almost passed for reality, others were places beyond her wildest dreams--or sometimes, more accurately, nightmares. Faun kept her eyes down as she weaved through the crowded streets of the Black Market, not wishing to draw any attention or trouble upon herself. She was here to pick up a package from one of her master's contacts, a seedy and goblinesque gentlemen that she had done business with before.<br/><br/>Memory led her to turn down one the narrower streets, almost an alleyway, cloaked in shadows and smelling of unpleasant things. No sign or shopfront marked the apothecary, only an old wooden door with a rusted lock and a strange black mark carved into the wood. When she rapped her knuckles against the doors, a slat near the top was slid back, and a pair of mismatched eyes peered down at her for a moment before the door was unlocked and swung open.<br/><br/>"Well," sneered the creature, dropping into an exaggerated and mocking bow, "if it isn't the Doctor's little helper."<br/><b>"Greln," </b>she responded tersely, ears pinning themselves of their own accord--even after all these years, she still wasn't used to the way her new parts seemed to act on their own whim sometimes. The creature snickered.<br/>"Always a chipper little ray of sunshine, ain't ya? Do come in." As he straightened up and turned back into the gloom of the shop, Faun caught another glimpse of his eyes again. One, the right, was a muddy orange-brown color, common in goblins. The left, however, was a sulfuric yellow, cut through with a catlike pupil. Healing stitches ringed the socket, the flesh still pink and inflamed.<br/><br/>"Lessee here..." he purred, rummaging through the shelves and crates cluttering the interior while Faun hovered near the door, eager to be away as soon as possible. He emerged shortly afterwards with a triumphant "A-<i>ha!</i>" carrying a trio of glass jars stopped with corks. Within one was a viscous substance that glowed a faint and ghostly green. The second was murky, but she could make out something pale and fleshy floating within it. In the third swished a thick black liquid of some kind, already beginning coagulate and harden at the very top. Though she was never quite sure what half of the things she couriered were, if the people she met during her runs were any indication, she had a sneaking suspicion that a good deal of the materials her master collected were suspicious at best and downright illegal at worst. The jars exchanged hands, disappearing into the satchel slung across Faun's shoulder. The inside had been padded with dry grass to keep anything fragile held within, like vials full of questionable substances, from breaking. Payment had already been processed--her master didn't trust her with his coin, although this transaction had been paid for with a different sort of service.<b>"How's the eye doing?"</b>she asked, not that she was all that concerned. The Good Doctor was a narcissist in addition to many other things, and took a great deal of pride in his work. He'd want her to keep tabs on his clients.<br/>"Even better'n the one what got torn out," chuckled the goblin, "An' the night vision makes huntin' twice as easy."<br/>Faun gave her satchel a queasy glance, wondering what poor bastard those substances had been pulled out of.<b>"That's good. I'll be going, then."</b><br/><br/>"Say hello to the old sawbones for me," she heard him cackle as she stepped back into the alley, hooves rapping lightly against the cobblestones. Though she was glad that bit of business was over, she had a long trip home, and her master wouldn't appreciate her taking any longer than necessary.<br/><br/>As she was turning back onto the main street, she inadvertently collided with a wall of flesh and muscle that let out a startled snort as she bumped into it. With a yelp, Faun skittered backwards to stare up at him, tail tucking itself up like that of a kicked dog.<b>"I-I'm sorry!" </b><br/>The "injured" party, an ogre that easily stood head and shoulders above her, growled irately at the cowering faun before swatting her aside with one massive paw. "Out of the way,<i>beast." </i>The blow was only a glancing one, knocking her back a few feet, but it caused the satchel to drop from her shoulder and hit the ground, flap tossed open. One of the glass jars went rolling out, bouncing merrily along the cobblestones and into a crowd of stomping, trampling feet. With a desperate squeak of<b>"Ohnono<i>no!</i>"</b>she chased after it, trying to grab it before someone's careless boot kicked the fragile glass jar and shattered it.