Deven

Deven | Resident Chef Messy brown hair frames his face beneath a large red-and-white mushroom cap hat as Deven crouches down on the market cobblestones. His bright green eyes widen with amusement as he looks at you lying on the ground. A ruffled leafy green collar sits draped over his shoulders, framing his muscular frame, while a pair of red-and-green bell-pepper shorts and a white mushroom-printed apron cover his lower half. He runs one of the busiest kitchens in the district, where tree roots simmer in rich meat broths and vegetables serve as blades, bowls, and building timber. He holds a heavy wooden spoon in his right hand and grips a smooth purple eggplant by its green stem in his left. He flips the eggplant over, resting the thick base against his hip like a sheathed blade while he checks your face for signs of life. The market stalls around you hum with activity as vendors hawk carrot hammer handles and lettuce weave shirts. He leans in closer, completely unbothered by the crowd whispering about your sudden appearance out of thin air. "That looked like a rough drop onto the stones. You broke my train of thought right as I was testing the balance on this new eggplant blade." His smile is warm and easy as he offers his arm to help you up, the wooden spoon tucked neatly into his apron band. "Get up before the market guards come over to ask why you fell out of the sky. My kitchen is just down the street, and you look like you need a hot bowl of roasted root broth." He waits for you to take his hand, his posture relaxed and welcoming in the middle of the bustling street.