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.

 

[Cricket]

Finnian looked terrible, so Cricket had expected his answer to be…less than stellar. Still, the bottled emotions seeping through in that one gesture spoke volumes. Uncertain how to handle such she looked alarmed for a moment. Something really was wrong with her friend and considering what they’d seen together – not to mention what he must have seen on Urk – it must have been terrible. She’d kick the tail of anybeast who’d made him feel this way.

The gecko opened her mouth to press further on the matter but the noodle stall and its vendor offered her friend a timely intervention. She puffed out her cheeks as she stared at Finn’s slumped back, then focused once again on the feline and her pretty stall.

It did not occur yet to notice that Korya was blind, but she did register her age. Life on the streets had sharpened Cricket’s wariness towards good deeds: charity had come with strings attached and freebies had become favours. The food smelled good, so good, but she was nervous that the noodles may come with an expectation tomorrow. That Korya was younger alleviated fear enough that she elected to join the fox despite pockets empty of coinage (or, indeed, no pockets at all on her breeches).

“I ain’t got money an’ can’t pay you,” Cricket stated, quietly but bluntly, as she parked herself on another seat. The little gecko patted at the ratty satchel with a damp paw. “I can trade, though? All of it sounds good, I'll eat anythin'.” Her nostrils twitched. “Never had...whatever this is before but it smells really nice!” Now she elbowed Finn. “Food’ll make you feel a little better at least, right? Then you can say what happened.”

 

[Korya]

"Loud an' clear," said Korya, wiping her paws off on her pants. "Two bowls of spicy noodles, all the toppings, coming right up. You two sound pretty squeaky, are you allowed to drink? You're going to want a drink, and all I've got is ale and... I suppose some rain run-off in this bucket if I dump out the suds... How was the jump? I didn't quite catch it, but I think I heard it."

She turned her back to them, but her ears swivelled to listen in. Her paws worked by pure memory and instinct. Shrimp, squid, and plover, tossed into the frying pan, sprinkled with crushed garlic and chopped green onions, shuffled around by wooden spoon as they crackled in the thin layer of hot oil. They were transfered to a bowl after a couple minutes, and the vegetables came out of storage and were dumped into the pan; chopped bits of baby corn, carrots, and some kind of Fyadoran root vegetable were mixed about with another dollop of oil from a bottle. These she let cook longer, before adding in seasonings and more sauces. Seaweed was mixed in, then pawfuls of noodles from a bowl of cold water, and the pan danced over the stove's flames - veggies and noodles flew into the air, always catching back in the pan, not a drop of sauce spilled. She poured the meats back in and stirred further, the crackle of her own purr mixing to the splattering noises of oil and rain.

The smell was as if Sampetra the Sea Goddess had parted the Harbour's waters and sneezed the ocean's bounty upon the street.

Korya dolloped the noodles out into two bowls - two huge, heaping bowls. The colors of the vegetables and shrimp glistened in the ephemeral glow of lantern-jars as they peaked out from the golden-brown noodle sauce. A veritable rainbow for the senses what mattered. She stuck a fork in each heap and set them on the countertop.

"It'll all go bad soon enough," she said simply. "I'm shipping out tomorrow, so why waste it? Money or no money, food needs to be eaten."

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

The financial burden he placed on the others made him feel even worse, and as Cricket tried to offer the scrap metal she'd been stealing scavenging, Finn made some noises of protest -- but Korya began cooking regardless, and he inferred she was making the meal out of pity.

Finn covered his face with a paw to try and hide his shame. Tears were an awful and bitter thing, but the occasional hiccup made you look and sound like a dibbun. He apologized profusely, but the fragments of syllables that slipped out between choked sobs made little sense.

All the while, Finn was too overwhelmed by sorrow to see the magnificent culinary display. Nevertheless, the cooking sounds seemed to soothe his sorrows. With his head tucked under his elbow, he listened to the rhythmic chopping and tossing as Korya cooked. The delicious spicy flavors forced their way under the crook of his arm, and eventually coaxed him to lift his head.

As the bowls were set down, Finn's face scrunched up again, and he had to look away. It was perhaps the most beautiful meal he'd ever been served. Certainly better then the fancy restaurant Alwyn took him to -- money couldn't buy comfort food like this. It rivaled even the humble Nameday pies of his youth.

Fresh tears streamed silently down his muzzle, but words simply wouldn't come. Finn swallowed hard, nodded his thanks, and tried to settle himself down enough to take a bite.

After a moment, he gave his fork a little apprehensive twirl. Spicy dishes were always a risky venture, but he was hungry, and couldn't turn down such a kind gesture. Carefully he blew on it to cool it down, and took a bite. The spice was lovely -- Finn had always loved spicy food. But it was also one of the spiciest dishes he'd ever had.

The heat set on instantly, clearing his sinuses out like a flame to cobwebs. Though it didn't scald him, the pressure was on, and Finn could feel a flush of heat building under his collar.

Korya was right, he'd need a drink by the end of the bowl.

 

[Cricket]

The chatty feline was both a curious one and increasingly welcome in Cricket’s world. Being younger had endeared her more to the gecko as it was, but she seemed an enterprising sort and more than a little charismatic: just the sort of creature worth getting to know. “Ale’s fine!” she asserted without hesitation, tail coiling about the stool as she wiggled eagerly. “The jump was good! I do it a lot, you know: no surface I can’t climb.”

Finn was desperately miserable beside her she knew, but Cricket did not immediately press. On the one paw she was rarely skilled at offering comfort and found the tears of others awkward; on the other, she found herself embarrassed to be comforted in such moments and elected to give him the dignity of pretending not to notice until the food was ready. Instead, bright silvery eyes, rendered ruddy orange in the glow of the fire, remained wide and fixed on the culinary dance taking place before her. It all felt so fancy: one couldn’t help but envy such seemingly unconscious skills. Slower on the uptake, it was only around now that she began to sense Korya’s blindness.

Though the gecko remained somewhat leery of freebies – so little was truly free in this world, after all – it smelled too good and she was far too hungry to stand on stubbornness tonight. At once she dug in, shovelling noodles into her mouth with alarming rapidity. Hunger or no, the flavour was incredible and like nothing she had eaten before. It was rich, deep, hearty, warming…perfection. Eagerly she devoured her portion with little standing on manners, seemingly untouched by the level of spice.

“Sh’ppin’ aaht?” she burbled around a snoutful of broth and plover when at last she resurfaced. “Like proper ships? Sail’n?” A swallow. Turning her head to the fox, she hesitated for a moment – she needed to press him on what had him so upset – but decided to give him a little more time. “’Ere Finn, you sail don’cha?”

 

[Korya]

"Aye," said Korya, as she fumbled with mugs and the spigot on the ale casket. "Did something potentially stupid the other day, while out for a swim. Big line of beasts on the docks! They hauled me out of the water and said form up, so I did, and then I ended up..." She heaved a great, sad sigh. "...as an assistant cook on the BlackShip. Proper madness, you ask me... what's a blind cat like me supposed to be doing on a ship? But no one seems to mind."

She paused a moment.

"I might have done a very rude gesture at an Admiral, too. And fought off a whole Kraken by myself."

She'd finally filled the two mugs - despite not getting an answer from one of them - overflowing and splashing all over the ground behind the stall as she carried them to the counter. One she managed to place without too much incident - the other nudged right into Finnian's face and spilled a little down his snot-run snout (if the crying didn't case it, the spice certainly would!) Korya didn't really seem to notice. Once the mugs' bottoms hit hard wood, she let go of the handles and did her best to spin them halfway 'round for her customers to hold.

Then she sat back and preened, flexing her bare arms and flashing fangs and silly grins at the pair.

"How's the food so far?"

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn's mood lifted with the food and banter. The badger in the room sat unacknowledged, and for a brief moment, Finn was able to forget about his sorrows. Or at least, delay addressing them. The foxkit let out a shaky sigh, and scrubbed at his face with a paw -- when suddenly a tankard of ale was unceremoniously thrust into his muzzle. "W-weh! H-hey!" Ale sloshed across his face and down his cheek, and the foxkit burst into laughter at the chaos of it all. It was everything he could have asked for in a nameday dinner. The grace of obscurity, a conversation that didn't revolve around him, and a little playful nonsense.

The foxkit wobbled off balance as he tried to simultaneously avoid the tankard and accept it into in his paws. Once he had taken it into his paws he took a swig to quench the fire burning in his muzzle, and set it down on the table with a thud. He'd need to pace himself if he wanted to finish the bowl of noodles. He glanced over to Cricket, and gawked at how quickly she was eating the food. "G-gates Cricket, you're gonna g--hic--you're gonna get the worst spicy hiccups!" While Finn prided himself on his ability to tolerate spicy foods, Cricket was outpacing him and leaving him hiccuping in the dust. But for once, the fox's insecurities and pride didn't get in the way of him enjoying the moment.

His ears perked at the mention of sailing, and his paws wiped at his face again. For the first time, it seemed like he was able to see past the end of his nose, and he had an opportunity to actually look at his gracious host. Korya was younger than he expected -- but she also sounded much older than she looked. More than ever, he was aware of the gulf of maturity and stature that was only a few years removed from him. Though he longed for more autonomy... something about the moment made him glad to be thirteen, and a smile flickered on his muzzle.

...did she say she was blind?

As Finn's mind raced to catch up with the conversation, he swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. "Y-yeh, I was on the Golden Hide..." he said modestly, without any puffed up pride or pretense. "...the BlackShip?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. His tail swayed pensively behind him as he recalled some of the conversations he'd had with Alwyn after the opera house. "...inn' that Cap'n Jesh's ship?"

"I-ish th'best meal I've -hic- The best meal I've had since I got ~bAcK~ from Urk..." he answered, with a self depricating laugh. It was enough that his voice broke every now and then... and now hiccups too? Finn hiccuped again, and returned to his noodles for another mouthful.

 

[Cricket]

By the time Cricket surfaced for air it was difficult to distinguish between broth-soaked scales and the reddish tinge of her natural colouration, warmed now by the spices and heat of the meal. Only the mucky waterline of pepper flakes, small spots of seaweed and a single errant noodle revealed that she, quite literally, had been almost up to her eyeballs in the food. Cutlery was, of course, hardly necessary where she was concerned.

Her expression only broadened into an admiring grin as the cat explained her predicament. Half was probably nonsense (a boaster herself, she took it upon herself to presume all others did the same) but the mystery of the tale was enough to have her hooked. One could only dream about insulting one of the Navy. “Ha! Well, you should tell ‘em you deserve head cook with how good this tastes. Not that you might want to be stuck bein’ on a stinky old tub if you have a big job like that, ‘course.”

Turning her head, she wrinkled her nose teasingly at Finn, ready to add another jibe about sailors when she noted his struggles with the food. Had she ears like his they would have perked at his mention of Jeshal – the name sparked something in her memory – but she elected not to think too hard on it for now. Instead, she pulled her tankard closer and dunked her snout in it also, washing her face this time with the cool liquid as she slurped noisily. A bubbly giggle escaped when Finn hiccuped again. He always made the silliest noises, she found them endearing in a way she could not articulate.

When oxygen became necessary once more she inhaled deeply before enthusing again. “Mmmh, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” It certainly was. Hot meals were a scarcity, let alone something so fresh and vibrant: this was going to haunt her dreams for the next year, she knew it, but it was worth every bite. The moment that BlackShip was back in port she’d be first in line at the stall - with money.

The leopard cat had confirmed her blindness, something which both intrigued and impressed the gecko. The ease and skill with which the feline worked already unconsciously answered her question, but she never had been one for tact. “So you’re blind, then? Like…always or somethin’ happen when you fought the kraken?”

 

[Korya]

"Captain Jeshal, indeed. Mr. Ironclaw, I think his name is?"

Korya began cleaning up again, wiping things down with a rag, shuffling her cookware about to make sure it had cooled down enough to wipe without burning her paws. Occasionally tossing a whole raw shrimp into her mouth to chew on.

"You know, I did say I should be head chef, even brought some noodles! He liked them so much he had to share, even. But, still just assistant... for now." She frowned dimly, tilting her head up as if to watch the sky, but her absent gaze was fixated on the ceiling of the oilcloth awning. "I'll see how it feels, I would hate to not be able to open my noodle stand again... But I did meet a cute rat... I promised to be her friend."

She leaned back for a bit and listened to her customers slurping and guzzling, hiccuping and just... being. They sounded so young, and she wished to be on the other side of the counter as well. A whole life spent cooped up, dressed up, a glass doll of a kitten in an empty playhouse much, much too large for her to have been so alone... She would have given that all away to be leaping from rooftops in the rain, wandering in the streets with holes in her pockets and somebeast who really cared for her...

"Mm... born this way," she said, almost dismissively. "So, always! Sadly, no scars or anything cool from the kraken fight. It just yanked me about some, and I punched it and clawed it. I bloodied my nose slipping on the dock, that was the embarrassing part. Some really silly lizard got a bit too cold in the water and almost died, so she got the attention... We fought bravely though, and the kraken slipped away after just a few tastes of Fury and Fate!"

She clenched her paws into fists, kissed each one, and boxed at the air wildly, breaking one of the glass jars hanging from the awning. Fireflies scuttled out and began flying around, most keeping under the awning after a quick taste of rain.

"Oops... Ow, I stepped on glass... Where's my broom? I don't have a broom..."