Private The Slups A Nameday to Remember: Company of Strays

[FinnianBrightfur]

After he fled the docks, Finn found a place in the Slups to lay low and regain his composure. The foxkit drew a tremendous amount of unwanted attention -- a well dressed young todd blinded by tears stuck out like a sore thumb. Some watched with concern, others out of morbid interest. At least two saw an easy mark, and a scuffle in a back alley left Finn battered, bruised, and several gilders poorer.

It was a fitting end to the day, he felt. The cherry on top of a miserable Nameday, indeed. Finn found a warm warehouse to rest in, and crashed by the boiler where he lay as a dead beast. He felt entirely numb all over, and the only thought that occurred to him was how quiet his thoughts were. His mind was stiller than an empty cavern.

Hours later -- Finn had lost all sense of time -- he stirred, pushed himself to his feet, and wandered out onto the streets. Bully was on its way to bed now, the only business open were a few taverns closer to the dockside -- and a blind vendor selling noodles. The scent was... comforting.

Cricket had to be around here, somewhere. Maybe she'd feel up for noodles. The foxkit scraped together a pawful of pebbles, and tossed them at walls, hissing her name in a hushed tone. "... Cricket?"

 

[Korya]

A soft, yellow-green glow settled over the noodle stand situated under an oilcloth awning, the light flickering now and then. The fireflies and glow-worms in jars hanging from the awning made little tinkling sounds against the glass, drowned out by the pitter-patter of tiny raindrops that began to fall from the darkened sky.

Warmth radiated from the stand. The crackle of fire in a stove and the sizzle of frying oil beckoned, but there was nobeast left to beckon at this hour. The row of upside-down buckets that served as stools for the ramshackle serving counter were empty, but padded with soft blue cloth draped over each one.

Korya had made good after Westisle Cultural Appreciation Day, and on top of all these additions to her noodle vendoring, there was a cask of ale and a new sign which was now readable in the firefly glow as:

Korya's Spicy Noodles (and Ale)
​

It was also her last evening selling noodles. She had to empty her stock, and move her things to the BlackShip for her next adventure. The stand would be taken down, the pieces stored in her little apartment down the street, for whenever the ship would return her to town. But the vegetables, the shrimp, the noodles - these wouldn't keep long at all.

She leaned against the counter, wiping down a mug with a soapy dishcloth, listening to the hissing little voice and the tink-tink of pebbles bounciing down the street.

"You look lonely," she said softly, but loud enough to be heard over the pattering rain. "I can fix that... with a bowl of piping hot noodles!"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

While Finn had long since removed the bandage on his snoot, there was a tiny little scar across the bridge where the fur hadn't grown back yet. As for the rest of him? Disheveled and dirty. His tie and coat were gone, and his shirt was untucked. A button or two had popped off to boot, leaving one cuff flapping in the wind. He was a sorry looking sight indeed, as the first spattering of rain drops sprinkled down on him.

Korya, however, would notice he stopped breathing for a moment. Finn studied the makeshift street vendor, eyeing the jars of fireflies. Warmth radiated out of the small shop, and the rain sounded lovely on the oil canvas. But what really caught him was the smell. Catching him by the collar, it dragged him a step closer for a deeper breath. The oils and peppers were unmistakable, standing boldly against a backdrop of savory vegetables and various meats. Finn let it out the breath shakily, his lower lip quivering. The unexpected comforting warmth disarmed him.

"You, uh... are you ~gOnNa be OpEn~ for a while?" he asked, his voice breaking. Puberty could be cruel to young todds, but Finn didn't seem to mind the indignity of it all. "...I gotta find my friend first."

"...and find some gilders..."

 

[Cricket]

Life in the Slups was a rough one: one of the first lessons Cricket had learned was to avoid being out at night, if one could avoid it, for the dangers of the city seemed to amplify once the light was gone. Dislike though she did the Fogeys and fear though she did the Guard, neither seemed especially willing to traverse the streets and alleyways themselves once the sun went down. This was frustrating for the little gecko, for long winter nights with less presence of law enforcement meant greater opportunity. It also posed greater risk, and at this time of year proved far too cold for wandering around too long. It was difficult not to feel as though she was missing out; spring couldn’t come soon enough, in her mind.

There hadn’t been many spots recently to squat in, for low temperatures had pushed more unhoused beasts to seek similar stations in empty warehouses or derelict buildings. Being able to scale to ceiling-level had proved a boon for a while, until a gang of drunks had decided that the rafters made decent targets for knife-throwing practice. She’d scooted from there as the sun went down and headed further into the streets. Ever the opportunist (and taking full advantage of her abilities to scale buildings), she soon became distracted from the need for shelter and dedicated the last hour of daylight to instead yanking loose chunks of lead flashing from the rooves of buildings previously held in better esteem. This haul was duly stuffed into her ragged satchel, intended for sale come the morning.

Such an opportunity could not have been wasted but came at cost. As temperatures dropped so did Cricket’s energy, and, realising she needed somewhere to huddle down, realised her options were limited. Eventually the gecko deigned to roll herself in whatever fabrics she possessed and wedged herself securely between guttering and masonry, intending to nap away a few hours until she wagered the drunks were bored enough for her to creep back inside.

It proved a difficult rest. Between the patter of raindrops and scent of food she could not afford cooking nearby Cricket’s own stubbornness to get some rest warred with curiosity and gnawing hunger. The decision was finally made for her when a familiar voice, first quiet, then more strident and breaking in that way she’d giggled about during the summer, caught her ears. Large eyes lit up, turning at once to the street below.

“Finn?!” It was difficult to see around the canvas from this angle. At first she craned out, tail coiled loosely about the gutter as she tried to catch a better glimpse of the young todd. Finding this, likewise, unsuitable, she surrendered to instinct and simply made a leap.

The leap was calculated: she’d bounce off the wet canvas, provided it was securely fastened, do a little flip in midair and land in the middle of the street before both Finnian and the delightful stall. It would impress both fox and vendor, no doubt: a light in the grim winter evenings!

Cricket’s calculations when it came to leaps, however, were well-documented as off at the best of times. The youngster slid down the gutter until she deemed it a safe height, propelled herself into space, and overshot the stall below her by a good foot or so. Between soft scales and the wet stones she made a pleasingly loud plop on contact with the cobbles, bounced, tumbled snout over tail and sprawled for a moment staring up dazedly at the flickering lights. Were those sparklies in her head? A brief shake confirmed they were in fact a cool feature of the delicious-smelling stall. Utterly oblivious to the vendor’s state of eyesight flashed her an embarrassed grin as she sprang back to her feet. “Ahem! ‘M fine! Jus’ a shortcut! I like yer lanterns – very pretty, they are!” Rounding on the fox beside her, her grin brightened. “Finn! What’re you doin’ all the way down here?”

At last she noticed the disheveled sight of her friend, so unlike his usual state. Her expression dropped at once. “You look like ‘Gates. You okay?”

 

[Korya]

"Open long as I can stay up," said Korya. "And I don't have a bedtime. I can go to bed whenever I want."

Her mouth split open in a beaming grin, fangs glistening in the firefly-glow. She did not raise her head from her glass-wiping task. Only her ears perked towards him, and then back, listening to something above make its way down to street level.

She put the mug away on top of the ale barrel and leaned over the counter. What a curious voice. It sounded somehow slippery, somehow squeaky... feminine? Or just young?

"Thanks," she murmured to the lantern compliment, tail flicking in the air behind her. Her grin wavered a little as a moment of wistful longing passed over her. Pretty lights, but she'd have to set them free later. Or... What had the little lad said earlier? Something about crickets? She'd barely caught it, maybe he was asking somebeast in passing about tickets... but no, there'd been no other pawsteps...

Korya stretched herself out over the counter, chin resting on folded paws as she stuck her nose out over the customer's side. She listened to the kits banter for a moment before peeping up again.

"Sounds like you've found your friend. Would you both be interested in a bowl, then? Shrimp, squid, got a little bit of plover left over - little of everything, perhaps? Not a lot left, but it's all got to be used before I can close up. Come, siddown, get out of the weather!"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn studied Korya a little more closely, and discovered she was a bit younger than he had initially thought. He puzzled as to why she seemed so engrossed in her work. Most beasts would have at least glanced up by now, but she didn't --

"Finn?!"

"...Oh! Hey Cricket! ...no no no, don't jump! Just crawl down the--"

PLOP.

Finn recoiled away in shock, half covering his eyes with his paws. He'd never seen a beast jump from such heights, and geckos didn't seem... sturdy. It'd been a miracle that Swift had been there with the cart of hay for him with the house fire, and that landing had been less than comfortable. But Cricket had no such soft landing, and Finn was sure that she had quite seriously injured herself. Much to his surprise though, she seemed entirely unphased.

The foxkit stared at Cricket in disbelief, jaw agape. Her rambunctious entrance startled him long enough to forget his sorrows -- but they crept back in slowly and surely. He'd been able to evade Korya's gentle questioning, but Cricket would surely expect an answer.

Finn's throat clenched shut, and his face scrunched up as his sorrows threatened to burst out -- when suddenly he let out a bark of awkward laughter mixed with a sob. His tail flagged behind him as an entire roller coaster of emotions appeared at one instant, and his paws lifted to cover his face.

At Korya's beckoning, the foxkit nodded hungrily, and blindly stumbled forwards to plunk down on one of the improvised seats. Noodles sounded delicious. "... I don't have any gilders with me right now... Can I bring you them tomorrow?" he asked glumly.