Argh, friggin' selkies are dancing around my head like crazy... but if I'm on a roll, I'm not going to stop it! I promise I'll work on more of my regular fics for my other watchers asap!
On that note... really, what is it that those yukes are drinking? Also wondering, why does Tipa's (and Lueda's) caravan always look so young?
If you see any errors, please let me know!
The Caravan from Tipa, consisting of a sole Selkie and his moogle companion, Mog, were leisurely strolling towards the mushroom forest, their last stop before returning home. Gentle breezes toyed with the selkie's long, silver-blue hair, ruffling the many furs edging his blue tunic and his wrists. Those same winds buffeted Mog slightly as he twirled lazily through the air, playing with the papaomus hauling their cart. Its small, docile eyes followed his every move.
As they travelled the path, the selkie, eyes ever vigilant, spotted a familiar pair by the side of the road. He hailed them with a wave.
Hana Kohl, the lean, blue haired female, waved back, smiling happily from her perch on a tree stump. Then she continued with what she had been doing, a gentle dance with a tambourine. The Tipa caravanner watched her for a moment.
"What, you like what you see? Or is that a stare of disapproval?" he asked with a mild smirk, an eyebrow going up. It was meant more as a joke; the two caravans were well acquainted friends. After all, not many selkies dared step outside of Lueda, and those that did stuck together.
Without waiting for a response, Dah Yis continued with a grin, "What do you say? How about a song to usher in your next myrrh festival? Just one hundred gil will do."
Mog looked at his wolfie companion, who was smiling back. "Yes, please." He winked as he handed over the coins, a subtle gesture that he understood the excuse to hang out.
"That's the spirit!" Dah Yis laughed heartily. Most would think the pay was for some trivial entertainment, but only a selkie would know what the exchange was really about; sharing whatever wealth, luck and happy spirits they could.
And so, without further ado, the Lueda caravanners began to sing and play instruments with wild abandon. Mog found himself being shoved by his friend, and a disapproving glare from the moogle was only met with a cheeky look. 'Get on with it and dance' it seemed to say.
The moogle was confused for a moment, but followed suite after the Tipa selkie began his own dance consisting of acrobatic backflips, cartwheels and spins, quick toe-tapping and elegant hand movements as untamed as the spirit who performed them. That's what selkies valued most after all, wild freedom. Seeing no other course, the moogle joined in, and the quartet joyfully danced the afternoon away.
It was late evening when they finally stopped, poor Mog falling flat out in the Tipa cart to regain his breath. Hana Kohl looked to the sky, a small frown irritably riding upon her pointed face. "What a pain, it's so late. I'm sorry, we seemed to have kept you for a bit longer than we thought!"
The wolfie shrugged, nonchalance clear on his features, "Meh, that happens. I guess we'll have to just set up camp here then. You won't mind joining me, will you?"
The Leuda selkies smirked, "Oh, I guess we'll have to manage."
"Great! Hey Mog, you don't mind at all, do you? ...Mog?"
He looked towards the caravan, only for his keen ears to pick up snoring a moment later. He looked back at the others with a comically bewildered expression. They laughed.
With that they set up their camp, arranging the caravans in a semi-circle around a fire. All the while they were careful to avoid waking Mog. Only a few apologies came from the wolfie about how his lazy friend wasn't much help, seeing as Mog's newly graffitied-on face would be more than enough of a reprimand later. The trio finally settled around the fire as daylight faded, the Lueda pair watching curiously as the Tipa boy hastily scrawled something in a journal.
"What's that for?" Hana Kohl asked once it was aside.
"Well," he started, "It's just sort of a catalog of my adventures. It's a Tipa tradition, believe me, you don't know how badly I'd get chewed out if I didn't do it. And I guess it's not so bad once you get used to it."
"Let me guess, mostly clavats or yukes in Tipa?"
"Clavats. To be more specific, three clavat families. The other families are two yukes, two Lilties, and mine. I swear the only reason they let us in is because my parents are alchemists. Kind of an odd trade, but they've usually buried their noses so deep into the first curiosity they come across that they don't have time to bother anyone else."
Dah Yis chortled, "I heard Tipa was pretty good about racial equality?" he asked, almost hopefully.
The wolfie replied while he got up, grabbing some food from his cart, "Not as much as you'd hope, but better than everyone else if you squint hard enough. Our family is okay because everyone knows them, and how they're pretty much useless as actual selkies. You know, stealing and whatnot. They're an odd bunch, but hey, family."
Hana smirked consolingly while Dah Yis fetched some of their own food. "I hear ya. How'd you end up the caravanner then, and alone at that? You seem to be more like us then what your parents sound like."
"I was the only one even close to being old enough, honestly. They just shoved me out on the road one day, and honestly I don't think they wanted to send anyone else once they realized the job could get done with just me. Nicer to keep the other families home, y'know."
"Hmph. Figures the selkie family gets the short end of the stick."
"Why do you think I remain caravanning rather than go home and take a break? Besides, I feel freer this way."
Dah Yis suddenly shouted out, extreme annoyance in his voice, "Darn it, Hana, didn't we have some milk or water to drink or something?"
"I told you yesterday that we ran out! You were supposed to get more!"
"How could I do that, we've been on the road!" Dah Yis shot back.
"Don't take that tone with me!"
"Whoa guys, relax! Yeesh!" interceded the Tipa selkie. The pair quieted down. "You sure you're right out of stuff to drink?"
"Well, no, but all we've got left is this... stuff." Dah Yis grumbled, taking out several kegs of what was lovingly referred to by travelers as 'strange liquid'. "And you know how it tastes. When did we pick up this much anyways?"
"Since you're a hoarder who likes to pick up useless junk," Hana Kohl complained.
"Oh, right," he frowned. Then he looked over at the other male and held up one container, "Hey, bet you one hundred gil you couldn't drink this all in one go."
"That same one hundred gil I paid you with?"
"Are you chickening out?"
"Am not!"
"Hah hah, you so are! B-gok b-gok, chicken! B-gok!" taunted the blonde.
"Give me that!" the wolfie snatched the keg, opening the top and trying to take a drink like it was from some obscenely large glass. He quickly spat it back into the keg.
"Euck! Gross! That's freaking bitter!"
"You couldn't do it! Whoo, another hundred for me!"
"That was just a test-taste! I get another go!" And without further ado, he promptly started downing the disgusting drink, chugging for all he was worth. A little slopped down his chin and his face started going red, but after a few minutes he finally put it down with a heavy clunk, gasping for breath. Then he grinned, "I did it! Now, give me the gil!"
"You cheated!" Dah Yis huffed.
"I did not. Give me the money, now."
Hana Kohl laughed at her pouting companion as he reached into his wallet. But, surprisingly, before he could get out the money, the Tipa boy spoke up again.
"Unless, of course, you think you can chug one too."
Dah Yis eyed him suspiciously. Hana Kohl, on the other hand, seemed mildly outraged, "Hey, don't I get a chance for a hundred gil here?"
Feeling cocky, the Tipa caravanner crossed his arms defiantly, "Hah, if you think you can manage it, sure! One hundred gil each to whoever can chug a keg! Only one try though!"
"You're on!"
If there's one way to get a selkie motivated, it's to add money into the mix.
And to her credit, Hana actually won, whereas her brother ended up spluttering for air.
As the others laughed uproariously, a sudden thought occurred to the wolfie when his mind began to fog, "Hey guys, uh, I'm feeling a little weird. You don't think there's poison or alcohol in that stuff, do you?"
The Leuda pair stopped still for a moment, thinking carefully, before Dah Yis finally answered, "Yukes wouldn't drink it if it were poison. And they don't sell alcohol to minors, yet you can buy this stuff at any street vendor."
Hana pondered aloud, "But what if it isn't poisonous to yukes, but it's bad for everyone else?"
"Pff, nah, can't be. That guy in Shella wouldn't be selling it to outsiders if it was."
For some reason, a slight flush was on the wolfie's cheeks, and he couldn't stop grinning stupidly. "Heh heh, that's good. Tell you what, I'll bet you guys two hundred that I can chug two in under five minutes."
"No friggin' way."
"It's on!"
That one went nowhere. He sprayed the last drop, coughing for air, and the trio argued for a while about whether or not it should count. Eventually they called it a tie, as the wolfie had come up with the rather convenient excuse that he had just seen Mog wake up with the graffiti all over his face. Mog was furious at the revelation, and demanded that each of the selkies drink another keg each of the horrible fluid as revenge for what they'd done. They only managed the barest of arguments when Mog quite simply hinted at his travelling companion that he could easily cast blizzard on him, say, when he was sleeping, because oh, you know, Mog was the one that kept watch at night and all. The wolfie very quickly forced them to all drink another Keg while the moogle flew away to wash up.
After that point, the horrible bitterness of the drink didn't bother them any more. The remaining kegs soon disappeared once the selkies realized they could make a game out of who could drink the most (including the ones already chugged). In the end it was a tie.
When Mog returned, he was surprised. All three of the selkies were laughing and cheering raucously, making nonsensical jokes and laughing like clowns. They swayed and stuttered over their own words, eyes glinting mischievously despite how unfocused they seemed. Hana Kohl stood up, disjointedly proclaiming her dancing prowess before falling flat on her buttocks shortly after. All three giggled at the sport.
The poor Moogle had no idea what was going on.
Just then, the sounds of another caravan began to make their way down the road. It was the group from Shella, the yukes all standing tall and proud. Feathered arms and armour-covered heads swept towards the scene.
"Ah, just as I thought," spoke the leader, Amidatty, "there is another caravan, and all set up already too! It's so terribly late, may we camp with you for the ni-?"
A sudden outburst of guffawing came from the selkies, who had just seen Lueda's papaomus take a bite of grass. The thing looked stupefied at its owners' antics, its mouth hanging open dully as it tried to process the significance of being laughed at. Mog, after casting it a sympathetic glance, flew over to the yukes.
"Hey there! Sorry, they weren't laughing at you, kupo. Actually, I don't know what they're laughing at... Uhm, anyways, you guys should be fine to camp with us. Just let me double-check."
Mog flew back to the group, beginning his inquiry, "Hey guys! They want to know if they can stay the night! Kupo!"
The Lueda caravanners stopped their laughing, staring at Mog for a full minute. Their brows creased in concentration as they looked at him, then each other, then him again, as if what he'd asked were some great and mysterious riddle which required great thought. Then they grinned.
"I'm okay if she ish."
"Shame here!"
"What about me, eh?"
Mog looked to the Tipa selkie, pondering their new accents all the while. "What do you say? Can we let them stay?"
"Let me shee dem firsht."
Mog shrugged his fur, "Well, uh, okay." He led his friend to the other caravan, completely confused about his strange behavior. "So, they okay to camp with us?"
Again, a looked of great concentration covered the selkie's face, the same expression the Lueda caravanners had but a moment before. He answered, "On one condishion."
Amidatty seemed wary, "What is that?"
"You gotsh any of that shtrange liquid shtuff?"
Surprised, Amidatty nodded, "We certainly do. Approximately ten kegs, actually. Why do you ask?"
"You can shtay if you let ush have it."
After quick survey of his partners opinions, he nodded, "Certainly, it sounds reasonable , if a little odd. It's not much trouble for us to get more after all, and you did get camp mostly set up already."
"Great!" grinned the selkie.
Behind the yuke's back, one of his companions muttered, "I'm surprised they didn't want some outrageous sum of money, all things considered."
"They're selkies, surely they have some insidious plan cooked up," replied another.
Amidatty ignored them, watching as his last teammate handed the selkie one of the kegs. He thanked him and ran back towards the campfire, brandishing the keg above his head proudly.
"Lok guysh, more shtrange liquid! I'mma drink more than you shmucks!" he hollered.
"No fair, I thought you shaid we ran out!"
"You jerk! That'sh cheating!"
"I'll share, I'll share, geesh!"
"A truly mastermind plan to be sure" the first yuke said sarcastically.
This also went ignored by Amidatty, who had been hit by insight. As he watched the selkies bicker, he noticed that not one of them was over the age of sixteen. In fact, only one of them was, the wolfie. The other two seemed even younger, perhaps around fourteen each. He was struck dumb by that realization, as that made each of the trio less than half his age, and the youngest caravans on the road altogether. All the other caravans were adults, maybe young adults, but still adults when they were sent out. None of these kids were even near being adults at all... and yet, each wore a few year's worth of scars. Especially the Tipa selkie. His thoughts continued, spiraling into abstraction about possible causes. Finally, it clicked. He knew about Tipa in general, it was a small town after all, but Lueda, no, not just Lueda... the selkies in general.
Were they really that desperate? Had the selkies been culled by the other races so much that they had to send their children into the maws of monsters in order to survive?
Whatever train of thought he had was suddenly lost when the wolfie, while trying to return to the Shella caravan for another keg, suddenly began moving at an angle... straight into his cart.
Wham!
Everyone else winced. The papaomus attached to the cart simply dropped its head and continued eating grass as if ignoring his owner's stupidity would make it go away.
Although, it almost looked like it was hanging its head in shame.
"I'm okay!" the selkie piped up. He was now flat on his back, and despite his recent collision seemed completely giddy, simply giggling as he struggled to get himself off the ground
Amidatty was, once again, struck by a thought, but it wasn't nearly as depressing a thought as before. In fact... he turned curiously to Mog, who was watching the proceedings with his jaw wide open.
"They have been drinking the strange liquid?" he asked.
Mog shook himself out of his stupor, "Yeah, kupo, apparently. Don't know why though."
"How strange," one of the other yukes mused, "I thought the other races thought the juice to be horribly bitter and unpleasant to consume?"
At this the yukes all huddled, as if around the idea they had all latched onto were a physical thing they needed to ring around in order for them to prevent its escape. "I don't believe other races even bothered with it. Has a case of any other race drinking the strange liquid ever been documented?"
"I don't believe so, only a few sips were taken before participants declared the liquid unpalatable."
"What a curious thing!"
"Is it just me, or are those selkies exhibiting unusual behaviour? Perhaps we should study them?"
"It appears almost as if they are showing signs of drunkenness, as is commonly seen in Lilties, remember, like that one from Alfitaria-?"
"You might be right, have there ever been cases written were Selkie behavioral habits after inebriation were recorded?"
At this the huddle of Yukes all stopped, glancing over at the trio of Selkies as they guffawed uproariously, before continuing their meeting.
"You know, I don't believe there have been. Amidatty, I must be wrong, but I have never seen a record on drunken selkies."
"I don't believe you are, neither have I."
"There are no tomes or studies that have something on that subject, maybe clavats or Lilties-"
"Or even yukes, remember that one experiment-?"
"I think because most attempts at out-drinking a selkie ended badly for the conspirator when-"
"That Lilty the one time admitted-"
"Anyone trying to drink a selkie under the table would end up with a horrible hangover and without a wallet, wasn't that what he'd said-"
Suddenly, the group stopped dead. They slowly craned their elongated necks towards the Selkie caravanners, silent as a grave. A stillness had settled over the group and the clearing in which the camp was set up. Minutes dragged past, the dark night sky twinkling curiously overhead. The only sound was the faint, howling dirge of the night wind between the branches and leaved of the nearby trees.
"My friends,"Amidatty began, "we have stumbled across something no one has ever documented before, perhaps has never been seen before!"
"This could be the discovery of a lifetime!"
"The effects of strange liquid on other races! Behavioral aspects of intoxicated selkies!"
"We must study this at once!"
The giddy yukes set to the task with scholarly exhilaration. One gathered writing materials, another ran around trying to determine the variables of the experiment, and a third was grabbing two kegs and rushing over to the selkies, who cried out happily at the prospect that their drinking game would continue (the wolfie had managed to stand up while they had been talking, but after repeatedly falling over trying to get back, had just rolled over to the group instead). Amidatty, meanwhile, stood still, supervising the proceedings with care.
Mog, after sorting out what was going on in his head, stared at him, "Uhm... don't you feel guilty?"
"About what?"
"They're basically drunk off that stuff and you're giving them more."
"No. I do not feel guilty at all. We do not know if they are indeed drunk. This is science."
"Ah. Makes sense. Kupo."
Amidatty returned to the task at hand.
It was only when morning's first piercing rays fell from the sky, gleaming through the dew and mist, that the Tipa caravanner let out an unhappy sound. He groaned, his head feeling as though it were about to split. Waking up to this sort of pain snapped the selkie's eyes open, and he looked around groggily at his surroundings.
"...Mog...? Ugh, mog? MOG! Get your fuzzy butt over here... oooooaaaaaaaahhhh..." he flopped back down, clutching his head. The papaomus whose back he was slung over chuffed, annoyed at having been awoken. He looked at it.
Nope. No notch in the ear. Not his.
He groaned again, noisily proclaiming his discomfort. Normally he'd probably have freaked out about being on some stranger's pack animal, but currently his head was too full of extreme ouch-factor to really care.
Another groan sounded from across the camp. It was loud, hurting his ears and his head. Thusly he told it so.
"Oi oi oi! Shut up! Don't be so freaking loud, it hurts!" he hollered, wincing as his own voice made the pain worse.
"Whooooaaaaaaaaahhh... ooowww... It's all spinning in pretty circles..." Dah Yis mumbled audibly.
"I said, shut up! It hurts!"
"Ow! I heard you! You shut up! You're hurting me!"
"No, you shut up first!"
"Why don't you!"
"You!"
"You!"
"No you!"
"WHY DON'T THE BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP! YOU'RE GIVING ME A HEADACHE!" Hana Kohl screeched out of nowhere.
"Ow!"
"Ow!"
"Dangit that hurts!"
"Ow! Quit yelling! I already have a headache, you're making it worse!"
"Ow!"
"I THOUGHT I TOLD BOTH OF YOU TO SHUT UP!"
"OW!"
"OW!"
As the groaning and fighting continued, Amidatty nodded to the yuke taking notes. "As I hypothesized, upon awakening there are symptoms of aural sensitivity, cerebral pain and raised emotional tension." The yuke jotted this down loyally, not missing a thing.
Mog, who was awoken by the shouting, simply looked out of the Tipa cart and shook his head. He hadn't needed to take revenge for the face-graffiti after all.
They'd pretty much done it themselves.