This Is My Swamp

Ezlo regards the newcomer grimly. It isn't as if he asked to be bombarded with memories of his time as a sentient, beaked adventurer's cap, yet here he is, restored to that form - if you could call this restoration, which he frankly can't - and staring a top-hat-shaped ghost in the eyes.

"No, you don't get it. I'm a Bonneter, see?"

The ghost does a turn about, as if by getting a reverse view Ezlo will suddenly be convinced that sentient hats are actually observable phenomenona instead of strange flukes.

"Sure, and the goddess is a milliner."

"Not last I heard!"