Open The Slups On Noodle Street

Character Biography
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The wonderful and infuriating thing about Bouillabaisse Harbor was that there were many streets, and they all had different names. Perhaps more names than there existed words, which explained why one street had been called Street Street and she'd even passed by Alley Alley.

"I'm gettin' paid fer this again, yeh?"

"Of course! My first bowl of noodles, all yours."

"Yarr, we almost be there. This be Tentative Road."

Korya continued following the strange ferret, holding tight to the elbow of his sleeve as he guided her along, her other paw dutifully keeping her large bucket of clean water steady. She focused on the feel of the cobbles beneath her paws. Trying to remember each twist and turn was futile, but the feel of a road or path was unique and memorable. It was a good learning experience, at the cost of more than a few stubbed claws over the last few days. This road in particular lived up to its name. The cobbles couldn't decide if they wanted to be cobbles or just bits of coral and random rocks slammed into the ground by so many boots.

"Noodle Street, next turn. I dun' unnerstand though. Why this place?"

She beamed, all fangs and wrinkled nose, whiskers splaying.

"Advertising!"

He showed her a fairly level, clean spot on the crooked, cramped, winding street dubbed Noodle Street, and leaned against the nearest wall as he watched her unpack. The cat had gone shopping, it seemed. Bags within bags, each placed with a certain studious precision as they were pulled out of her rucksack. The little stove she had slung across her back was laid out, a pot and pan placed nearby. She crouched, like a predator about to pounce, her paws working in a blur, her ears swivelling like a panicked semaphore messenger. The raggedy blindfold she wore was seeping through with something vaguely yellow and noxious, which worried the ferret a bit.

"Here," she called, unrolling a large, crumpled parchment and holding it in his general direction. "Can you pin that somewhere, somehow?"

He gazed morosely at the parchment, which read:

|v o P / y H , Ꝣ
M ϐ Ꝛ ° ʗ Ϣ

Ꝏ ᴅ ʇ —│├ ≡ഗ

And then said, "Yup." He couldn't read. He tacked it to the wooden wall behind her with a bit of rusty nail that he'd earlier kicked away when picking her a spot.

Korya had begun cooking, lighting her little stove with some peat and coals. Shrimp sizzled in a pan alongside disturbingly tiny versions of corn cobs, peppers, sliced carrots, seaweed, and more - every color of vegetable seemed to be represented. Several passerby stopped to observe or scratch their ears at the sign on the wall. Korya kept cooking, pan after pan of aromatic foodstuffs being crisped up and set aside in a large mixing bowl, her long tail wrapped snugly around it to keep it close.

The bucket of water came into play next, part of it poured into the larger pot, then set aside. The water eventually boiled, and out came the noodles. It only took a few minutes - the rosette-spotted feline counted under her breath the whole time. Pot set aside, pan back on, noodles dunked onto it, vegetables and shrimp mixed in. Sizzle, sizzle sizzle.

In the heart of the Slups, Noodle Street smelled amazing.

The audience waited with bait-breath as the first bowl was filled out, and given to the ferret who had helped her set up her spot. She even let him use her fork. He was so moved by this that decided he wouldn't steal it.

He took a bite.

His face flushed. His eyes watered. His whiskers curled as if the tips were set alight like a candle's wick and flames licked along their lengths.

Korya beamed with pride.

"It's..."

"Good?" Korya chirped, ears tilted in hope.

"WAY TOO BLOODY HOT, WHAT ARE YA TRYIN' TO MELT ME DELICATE TUMMY?" He dropped the bowl and scampered off, pushing through the crowd. "Y'all get outta here, the cat's insane, she's gonna poison everyone, me guts are on fire, me tongue's melted, help, help, get me a drink! I'm dyin', tell me mate I ain't gonna make it home, augh, oohoohoohoooo..."

The crowd dispersed in murmurs, leaving Korya, ears flat and dejected, pawing at the ground. She found the scattered noodles, her fork, and the bowl. She popped a pepper into her mouth and chewed despite the grit covering it, sniffling.

And now her eyes were hurting even more.
 
Boggy skidded to a halt, nose lifted in the air. "By 'Gates, what's that smell?" he said to nobeast in particular. The rat glanced down the adjoining street and saw what appeared to be the source of the delicious aroma: A small, spotted wildcat crouched beside a stove and a bowl of spilled noodles.

Always hungry, the thin rat sauntered towards the feline and her makeshift kitchen. He noted with curiosity that she wore a blindfold. Glancing at the sign behind her, he rubbed at his whiskers.

"Wha' ye cookin' 'ere, cat? Smells awful good."
 
Korya continued to sniffle and chew, scooping another pawful of dirty street-noodle into her maw. Her ears perked up - not because she wasn't sad, but because there was the little pitter-patter of paws approaching. She sat up a little straighter and scooted herself back towards her stove and belongings, her paws upraised and curled into fists in a vaguely defensive posture.

A stance she dropped when her visitor spoke.

"Oh... Um, I made some noodles... they're hot, though... spicy..."

She hiccuped, licked her whiskers, and tried to put on a brave face. She had no idea what a brave face looked like, so she just punched at the air in emphasis.

"Very spicy. It's three gilders a bowl! For the authentic Northlands cuisine, ant... antique... artisanally crafted... by me! All proceeds going to a good cause, of allowing me to cook more noodles." And afford a healer. "Would you like to buy some noodles, mister...?"
 
Naika, albeit today under donning the persona of Mälikä, humble older pussycat who had suspicious amount of money to spare, walked the streets in search of food. Having their fur greyed with various natural dyes, walking slightly hunched as well as wearing spectacles, it all added up with her simple black dress to create a picture of about sixty year old widow. Mälikä was one of course, unlike Naika who never even was in any serious relationship.

Smelling spice from distance, Mälikä decided to investigate. Being an older wildcat, het smell was still top-notch, but she had little experience about spices. Much unlike Naika who traded those and could tell she smelled red Chili with no problem. Mälikä only could feel that noodles, vegetables, seafood were used with something very hot.

Being hungry and not afraid as she saw much in her long life, Mälikä turned the corner into the Noodle Street. Beasts her age typically didn't like to experiment, but some, like her, could now finally enjoy their retirement and risk a little. Spotting another feline in what was, at best, street food stand, she focused on the sign. "Korya's Spicy Noodles". Written very poorly. The kitten that was running the place was just doing her best she thought. Mälikä fortunately was a sweet old lady who cared for kittens. As such she came close and politely stood by the side of the only customer, rangy, poor rat. Also somebeast Grandma Mälikä would care for.

"Three gilders? My my such an enterprising little kitten you are!" Mälikä spoke in a voice that was tired, as if she spent her life screaming, yet warm and welcoming, caring even. "Allow me to get some dear." She produced after two attempts three gilders from her inconspicuous bag.
 
Boggy rubbed at his chin. "Very spicy, hm?"

Another beast approached, an older cat, who did not hesitate to purchase a bowl. Boggy's head made a twitching, tilting movement to the right, his right eye flinching involuntarily. He was thinking deeply about how he could turn this situation to a profitable advantage for himself. Prior to the appearance of the second beast, he had thought to simply rob the clearly blind kitten, but now that the elder was here, Boggy saw that she was perhaps the more profitable target. Then again, spicy noodles without any altercation or risk to himself also could be considered a profitable endeavor of a sort. If those noodles were indeed any kind of palatable.

He scratched at his nose. "I'll wait an' see wha' th'granny 'as to say 'bout yer noodles. If'n they're spicy enough, maybe I'll buy meself a bowl."
 
Korya's ears splayed to opposite sides of her head. How strange... was her ferret helper running away screaming somehow bringing customers, or had they not witnessed him at all?

Spicy... enough? This was a beast she could imagine herself being friends with! She nodded in the rat's general direction, with a, "Yessir, as you wish!"

She remembered the first time she'd had spicy noodles. She had spat them out, thrown the whole bowl on the ground, guzzled an entire pitcher of water, and then... asked to try a second bite. Her mouth had burned, her tongue felt like it sloughed a layer off, and she barely slept at all, tossing and turning as the spices wormed their way through her guts that evening. And in the morning, she'd asked for another bowl, which she took outside and left in the snow until it had gone cold. At that moment she wasn't sure if she liked them; she'd simply wanted to get revenge for the pain they'd put her through.

Mayhaps Mr. Sliptail would return and ask for more once it cooled down as well. Maybe it was the freshness, not the spiciness, that had driven him off!

"I'm not a kitten," she grumbled to herself, but beamed up at nobeast nevertheless. "One bowl of Korya's Famous Spicy Noodles, coming up!"

Selecting a new bowl from the little stack, she ladled up a fresh portion from the pan, still steaming - she could feel the moisture on her whiskers as she slipped a spare fork into the bowl and rose to a kneeling position. She held the bowl aloft in the general vicinity of the elder female's voice, her other paw outstretched, pad up.

"That will be three gilders, ma'am! And, um, apologies, I don't have any drinks, just my noodle boiling water... is there a tavern nearby, do you know? The noodles pair most excellently with a cold ale! Where I'm from, they're sometimes called 'Sozzled Noodles' because they're so spicy, you might end up getting yourself blackout drunk (whatever that means) just from cooling your tongue off!"

She beamed again, fangs glinting in the sunlight. And a little drip of yellow gunk slipped out from under her blindfold, dripping down her fuzzy cheek.
 
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