Finn was greatly disappointed to find out that he wouldn't be receving all his pay at once. Two thousand gilders easily would have made him the richest kit in the Slups -- and perhaps even, the Imperium. Barrett and Alwyn, however, weren't about to let that happen. They had met together late the first night, and Finn was quite excited to meet the captain's son. He instantly took a liking to him, and talked the poor fox's ear off. Alwyn had promsied to take Finn out and train him a little on swords -- which almost made up for the fact that they were setting him up with a trust fund, and had secured the substantial portion of his pay for the purposes of...
...education. BLEGH.
Finn would rather die before being stuck in a stuffy old school room with a bunch of kits his age. Finn couldn't stand his own generation. All pretentious and stuck up, but with empty heads. It was much more pleasant to be in the company of beasts older than him.
But the threat of school was not yet on the horizon. At the moment, it was eight in the morning, he had twenty gilders in his pocket, and shore leave*. There were a number of things on his To-Do list that morning -- on top of the list was returning to his old home to check for a few things. But beyond that... ...well. There was at least onekit hatchling (?) he got along with. She had laid heavily on his mind, and Finn was eager to find her again.
Of course, it would do no good dashing about the Slups in his navy uniform. Well dressed kits weren't a common thing -- much less so, kits in navy blues. He'd stick out like a sore thumb! Stripping off his uniform, Finn chose a plain tunic, a dark pair of shorts, and (as always) his knife. There was so much hubub on the deck that few noticed Finn marching down the gang plank. Moments later, he was lost in the crowd.
Finn knew the Slups like the back of his paw. The first order of business was to pick up breakfast. The foxkit waited in line at his favorite vendor, and slipped his gilder over the edge of the counter. "The bacon, egg, and cheese, please!" Oh. Real food was going to taste so good. But having learned his lesson about carrying food in the Slups, Finn guarded the warm sandwich close to his chest this time. He feigned taking a bite, and quickly looked about, expecting some other chaos agent to come crashing into his glorious sandwich -- but it seemed fate had no plans to spite his delicacy this morning. Finn took a massive bite out of the sandwich, and let out a small cry of ecstacy.
The next stop was Oliver's Lantern -- Finn touched the pedestal reverantly, and gazed up at the eternal flame burning in the lantern. Wistfully, he reached into his pocket, and left two gilders propped up on the plackard bearing the names of the crew. He said something privately, and brushed his fingers over one of the engraved names. Finn sat at the base of the memorial and finished his sandwich, before leaving for home.
The foxkit was surprised to find the abandoned home still standing. The windows were dashed in, the house had been ransaked... and it looks like the roof had also finally caved in. Nearly everything of value had been stolen already -- which is to say... not much. But Finn called to mind an old locket his mother had kept. It was ancient and tarnished, and likely bore no monetary value... but Finn sought it for sentimental reasons. His father had gotten it for her -- or, so she'd said. After the wreck of the Ambleside, it seemed precious to her, and she spoke of it often -- especially on the days where she was most ill.
Navigating his way through the dusty old decrept building that was once his home, Finn dug his knife into the floorboard where they once kept their valuables, and pried it up.
There it was.
Finn pulled the chain around his neck, and looked about the place. He had expected the building to be damp and wretched inside... but it was fairly pleasant and dry. Surprisingly though, Finn found he had little affection for his former home. The Hide seemed more home to him than the very place he grew up.
The last order of business was finding Cricket. The kit looked all morning calling about the streets for her -- stopping by the bakery, even traveling to ask Biddy Babinshaw if she'd seen her, but to no avail. Six and a half hours later, the kit had gone nearly full circle, and had wound up back in his old neighborhood. He certainly hadn't considered giving up yet, but... Bully was a massive place, and... well. Orphans and the homeless were nearly impossible to locate.
That's when he heard the crackles and pops of the firework vendor, and a bright idea** popped into his head. Goodness, what a magnificent way to attract attention! Finn was perhaps one of his youngest clients, but he plead and bargoned and promised and swore that he'd be responsible with the largest fireworks, and forked over the rest of his gilders for several of the largest ones.
Setting fireworks off on the street wouldn't do though. Finn needed altitude! Returning to his home, the fox kicked the door down, climed up to the second level, and scurried up into the attic. Gaining access to the roof was prohibitively difficult, but Finn figured if he angled the bottle rockets just right, he could shoot them out through the cracks.
The first shot right off without a hitch, gracefully arcing over the houses of the slups, and bursting some hundred feet in the air. The foxkit was in awe of how fast the rocket took off, and ran to a window to watch the golden sparks shower down. He almost didn't mind the thick sulfur that filled the attic -- and paid no attention to the sparks that fell through the floor boards to the ground floor, where they took to the dry wood like kindling.
* Of course, being a midshipman, Finn was supposed to be escorted by a responsible seabeast. Unfortunately, Finn didn't get the memo.
** Fireworks? During the daytime? Finny!
...education. BLEGH.
Finn would rather die before being stuck in a stuffy old school room with a bunch of kits his age. Finn couldn't stand his own generation. All pretentious and stuck up, but with empty heads. It was much more pleasant to be in the company of beasts older than him.
But the threat of school was not yet on the horizon. At the moment, it was eight in the morning, he had twenty gilders in his pocket, and shore leave*. There were a number of things on his To-Do list that morning -- on top of the list was returning to his old home to check for a few things. But beyond that... ...well. There was at least one
Of course, it would do no good dashing about the Slups in his navy uniform. Well dressed kits weren't a common thing -- much less so, kits in navy blues. He'd stick out like a sore thumb! Stripping off his uniform, Finn chose a plain tunic, a dark pair of shorts, and (as always) his knife. There was so much hubub on the deck that few noticed Finn marching down the gang plank. Moments later, he was lost in the crowd.
Finn knew the Slups like the back of his paw. The first order of business was to pick up breakfast. The foxkit waited in line at his favorite vendor, and slipped his gilder over the edge of the counter. "The bacon, egg, and cheese, please!" Oh. Real food was going to taste so good. But having learned his lesson about carrying food in the Slups, Finn guarded the warm sandwich close to his chest this time. He feigned taking a bite, and quickly looked about, expecting some other chaos agent to come crashing into his glorious sandwich -- but it seemed fate had no plans to spite his delicacy this morning. Finn took a massive bite out of the sandwich, and let out a small cry of ecstacy.
The next stop was Oliver's Lantern -- Finn touched the pedestal reverantly, and gazed up at the eternal flame burning in the lantern. Wistfully, he reached into his pocket, and left two gilders propped up on the plackard bearing the names of the crew. He said something privately, and brushed his fingers over one of the engraved names. Finn sat at the base of the memorial and finished his sandwich, before leaving for home.
The foxkit was surprised to find the abandoned home still standing. The windows were dashed in, the house had been ransaked... and it looks like the roof had also finally caved in. Nearly everything of value had been stolen already -- which is to say... not much. But Finn called to mind an old locket his mother had kept. It was ancient and tarnished, and likely bore no monetary value... but Finn sought it for sentimental reasons. His father had gotten it for her -- or, so she'd said. After the wreck of the Ambleside, it seemed precious to her, and she spoke of it often -- especially on the days where she was most ill.
Navigating his way through the dusty old decrept building that was once his home, Finn dug his knife into the floorboard where they once kept their valuables, and pried it up.
There it was.
Finn pulled the chain around his neck, and looked about the place. He had expected the building to be damp and wretched inside... but it was fairly pleasant and dry. Surprisingly though, Finn found he had little affection for his former home. The Hide seemed more home to him than the very place he grew up.
The last order of business was finding Cricket. The kit looked all morning calling about the streets for her -- stopping by the bakery, even traveling to ask Biddy Babinshaw if she'd seen her, but to no avail. Six and a half hours later, the kit had gone nearly full circle, and had wound up back in his old neighborhood. He certainly hadn't considered giving up yet, but... Bully was a massive place, and... well. Orphans and the homeless were nearly impossible to locate.
That's when he heard the crackles and pops of the firework vendor, and a bright idea** popped into his head. Goodness, what a magnificent way to attract attention! Finn was perhaps one of his youngest clients, but he plead and bargoned and promised and swore that he'd be responsible with the largest fireworks, and forked over the rest of his gilders for several of the largest ones.
Setting fireworks off on the street wouldn't do though. Finn needed altitude! Returning to his home, the fox kicked the door down, climed up to the second level, and scurried up into the attic. Gaining access to the roof was prohibitively difficult, but Finn figured if he angled the bottle rockets just right, he could shoot them out through the cracks.
The first shot right off without a hitch, gracefully arcing over the houses of the slups, and bursting some hundred feet in the air. The foxkit was in awe of how fast the rocket took off, and ran to a window to watch the golden sparks shower down. He almost didn't mind the thick sulfur that filled the attic -- and paid no attention to the sparks that fell through the floor boards to the ground floor, where they took to the dry wood like kindling.
* Of course, being a midshipman, Finn was supposed to be escorted by a responsible seabeast. Unfortunately, Finn didn't get the memo.
** Fireworks? During the daytime? Finny!
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