So this one is a bit sillier than most of my other stories. Done somewhat as a request for TPOC1, except the poor guy has no idea just what terrible things I've done to his prompt.

Warnings: some perverted humor, a few mild swears. Nothing too bad... yet.

Never Trust a Clavat:

Trouble in Paradise

So he might have lied just the teensiest, tiniest bit to the ship captain. Just a little white lie, a fib at best, no big deal. His darling grandmother was not, in fact, waiting anxiously in Leuda for his arrival, waiting with handfuls of gil to gratefully shove into the captain's greedy hands. His darling grandmother, bless her apple-cheeked and wrinkly self, was dead. And she would never have lived in Leuda anyway. But if the Lilty couldn't tell a Clavat from a Selkie, well, whose problem was it really?

The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached port, and Calvin Tailor, treasure hunter extraordinaire, knew he'd have to time this perfectly.

If only it had been the middle of the night! He could have easily slipped ashore, perhaps even managed to nick one last meal from the galley on his way overboard. But no, there was no time. He threw his few belongings into the well-worn rucksack that had become his entire life somewhere along the way. This could turn tricky, but tricky was second nature these days.

Heavy footsteps creaked from beyond the door, and Calvin threw his bag beneath the lowest bunk. Had he left anything laying about? No time to check--he scrambled beneath the bunk, cramming himself into the far corner, and held his breath.

"Come on, ye lazy lout," the captain muttered, his words almost unintelligible through the wood of the door. Keys jingled and one grated into the lock. "Ye've got no sweet gran waiting on ye, I'll bet me own gran on that."

The door creaked as it opened, and Calvin watched as a pair of boots made its way into the room. There was a long moment of silence.

"That lying, thieving--" what followed was the most explosively expletive filled sentence he had ever heard. His hands itched for ink and paper. He'd definitely have to remember that one about putting his lance in some very upsetting places.

"--never trusting a Clavat again," the Lilty finished, slamming the door behind him in a final, frustrated gesture.

After waiting several long moments for the footsteps to once again fade into silence, Calvin popped his blond head from below the bunk, checking the room one last time. He ducked back under to retrieve his bag, then clambered back onto the bunk, one hand sweeping his hair back. It was a useless, nervous gesture, considering his cowlick defied gravity and would have inspired envy in any beast, but a calming one nonetheless.

He waited a moment longer, thinking through his next few moves, then stood from the bed with a laugh. "Captain, if you can't trust a Clavat, who can you trust?"

Dusk had already set in by the time he at last slipped from the deck, slithering over the railing and dangling from one of the thick ropes tethering the ship to the dock. Hand over hand he swung his way down to the dock, finally heaving himself onto the poorly built structure. The cool breeze ruffling his hair was at odds with the warm planks beneath his cheek, yet he allowed himself a moment of rest. From what he'd heard of Leuda, he'd need it.

Most of the other divers had gone home already, now that the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon and the dusk had turned the water to a deep, impenetrable gloom. Yet one Selkie remained at the cliffside, gazing down at the crashing waves below as if the sheer focus of her gaze alone could overpower the sun's waning rays.

Thin silver brows loomed over her gray eyes, the skin between them forming a thin crease as they drew together. Her eyes lit upon something beneath the dark water below. Her whole body tensed, then seemed to pulse as she leaped from the cliff.

Air roared past her ears, swept her hair up and out, then vanished in an explosion as she dropped beneath the waves like a stone. Swirling bubbles raced for the surface and silence reigned in this dark place as she swam ever downward, the tides rocking her forward and back in turn.

"Damn it, Riza!" a Selkie called from the ledge, her words far beyond the reach of her friend now. This woman's coloring ran toward the pale green of the water on a sunny day, as different from her friend's slate grey looks as could be found on the island. "You always wait for your spotter!" The woman continued to rant, stripping off her more cumbersome furs as she kept her gaze on that area of the ocean. "You always quit with the other divers!" Taking up a spear and a hefty rock, she crouched at the ledge, eyes straining for a happy glimpse of silver hair or even a terrifying glimpse of dark fin. "You never follow the rules."

Far below, Riza popped to the surface, one fist clenched triumphantly over her head. "Throw it down, Kal!" came her distant voice. Kal Fen sighed, and without looking set down the rock in order to drop the weighted end of the coiled rope ladder. The weighted ends clattered down the cliff face, then fell below the waves. One hand still clenched, Riza began to climb, Kal planning her lecture in the meantime.

Calvin recognized the old woman's game immediately. Chatting him up about goods while that kid with the blue hair slipped back and around him, a good trick to be sure, but hard to pull off sneaky with blue hair. He waited for the soon to come ghosting fingers, the tiny tug that would signify the loss of all his worldly possessions...

He reached behind his back and grabbed the hand, catching the wrist with ease, grip so hard his thumb practically slipped between the bones. There was a gasp from the child, but the old woman didn't even blink. He hauled the child up in front of him, sizing the culprit up.

What he'd thought of as thin was gaunt at a second glance. The boy looked to be ten years, but given his underfed stature, it was possible he was older. His leathers and furs were green tipped with white, dirty and worn as his dirt colored boots. Hardened eyes stared at the Clavat, chin raised, a small smirk on his face.

Smirk?

Calvin reached behind him and, to no one's surprise, caught another wrist, hauling this culprit forward too. This one was a girl, somewhat older, her body just beginning to curve like a woman's. She seemed decidedly unhappy, glaring at the boy and muttering in Old Selkic.

It was an even better game than he'd assumed. Few would catch the first thief, and those who did would not likely expect the second, more expert partner. He scrutinized their features. Siblings, the two most likely were, possibly cousins. Whether peddling Granny was a relative or not was of little consequence.

He produced a dagger from his sleeve, a bit of complicated sleight of hand he'd learned up in Shella, and waved it lazily in the children's faces. "Listen up, and listen real good, 'cause I won't say it twice. You don't bother me for the rest of my time here, I don't bother you." With a deft flick of his hand he snipped a lock of blue hair from the boy's forehead. "Tell your little friends the same. The next person to touch my purse loses something worth more than gil."

Calvin was about to leave it to their imaginations as he walked away, wondering where he'd find lodging in this accursed place, when another youth approached.

He had blue hair, like the children, only he was tall, with a swimmer's lean muscle and some nasty scars giving his tanned skin pale decoration. More worrying than the muscle, however, was the strut. If there was anything Calvin had learned in his years of travel, someone that cocky usually had good reason to be.

"He bothering you?" the young man asked, coming to stand beside the little boy. Calvin kept quiet, the Selkie wasn't speaking to him. He noted the brace of knives tied at the man's hip and the racket attached to his back. This wasn't a fight he wanted to get into, but as bright blue eyes focused on him, he had the sinking feeling that he didn't have much of a choice.

"The ferry docked today," Kal remarked to her friend, lacing her leathers and furs for the second time that day. She shook her green mane back, tying it with a leather thong before turning to where Riza was still toweling herself off. "Thought you might want to know."

"I saw," Riza said, voice muffled by the rough cloth as she rubbed it harshly over her body. The small towel soon soaked, she shook her head in a massive ripple, spraying water droplets all over the area.

Kal Fen glared at her friend, but soon gave it up. Riza Dei would never change, wild woman that she was. "Baths?" she offered, and was rewarded with a small smile.

It happened like this.

At first there had only been one tough. Calvin might not have been a warrior for the crystal or anything official like that (gods above, he loved caravanners. Always willing to give a fellow a ride, provided he helped out a bit) but he still knew enough tricks to walk with confidence. He'd been prepared to take on the young man, already shifting his weight to his back leg, when the next young man had come strolling down the dusty path.

Another had followed him, and another. Calvin looked up the path to the cliff edge they were descending from. More of the village's young men stood there, watching the confrontation. Their mouths were almost identically drawn in straight, thin lines across their faces. As he watched, one moved away from the edge and toward the ramp.

Odds were getting worse by the minute. The second tough, a lad with violently purple hair, carried a dagger as long as his forearm. The third, a blond with blue swirls tattooed on his chest, idly twirled a spear. It was possible he could fight them off. Possible--his eyes checked the ledge once more--but unlikely.

If there was anything he'd learned in his time as a conman, it was how to know when he wasn't welcome.

Leuda was small, with only a few pathways to travel around. Calvin noted few ramps up the cliffs, including the smaller ladders and ropes installed in place of actual carved walkways. They knew the area, he didn't. He was at a distinct disadvantage.

Lip pulled back over his teeth, he grinned, flashing his canines. Disadvantage was a ground he knew how to fight on.

The bathing cave was one of Riza's favorite places.

Formed from the natural hotsprings that bubbled deep inside the plateau, the caves provided a cool, private place to bathe and relax. The main cave consisted of two pools, deliberately carved into tiers, rising from the bath to the relaxation pool. A sheet of water that spilled from the rim of the relaxation pool provided a place to rinse one's body of soap. Other, smaller caves provided pools for private trysts, while caves closer toward the underground river held swimming holes and drinking water.

Already carrying towels, the girls each took a chunk of lye soap and carried it to the lowest of the tiers. Modesty was a luxury on the isle, and neither made a fuss over stripping down to bathe together. Most of the island children were raised in a pack together anyway, and group bathing was simply practical when there were a half dozen to a dozen children and only one adult.

Riza rushed into the chest deep water, sinking below the surface when she reached the center. Below the water she scrubbed at her hair, trying to loosen some of the salt dried tangles before soap was involved. Kal, on the other hand, waded slowly in, enjoying each inch of warm water that lapped over her body.

Beyond unruly children, hair was the most difficult thing to clean on the isle. All the salt, sun, and wind made for tough conditions, and sometimes Kal thought longingly of living on the mainland. She kept her green hair short, just long enough to tie back during her turn as a diving spotter. She had no idea how Riza survived with that sheet of silver hair that draped down her back.

"It is tradition," Riza had said once, and though her friend thought differently, she understood. Riza's mother had worn her hair that way as well.

Finished with their scrubbing, both took turns rinsing, with Kal helping her friend to fully cleanse her hair of the rough soap, then moved up to the soaking pool. Though this one, too, was only waist deep, it had been specially cut to provide seating around the edges. The two settled in with small sighs, thoroughly prepared to soak for the rest of the evening.

All right, so just because he was used to disadvantage didn't mean it would help him any. Calvin took another ramp corner at full speed, not even bothering to apologize to the woman he nearly mowed down. The walking stick shaped bruise on his thigh had taught him that apologies got him nowhere on this cursed island, nowhere at all.

Part of the problem was how the island was put together. Outdoor ramps were complemented by a catacomb of torch-lit caves within the plateau itself. Just when he'd thought he'd escaped the group of toughs by running the ramps, several of them had emerged from the caves rather close by. Both thankfully and unluckily the caves were a maze: thankfully in that it meant the young men couldn't know where he was until they once again emerged into daylight, and unluckily in that Calvin had no idea where he was going now as he skidded around another corner and took the fork to the left.

Everything echoed down here, and at times he swore they were pounding up and down the ramps right behind him, yet when he turned there was no one at all. Soon all noise faded except for the faint rush of water and his own harsh breathing.

"By the fires of Kilanda," Calvin muttered to himself, feeling his heart attempt to leap from his chest and keep running. "I haven't run like that since..." he deliberately steered his thoughts away to a different time. "Since Alfitaria."

The echoes of jogging steps started up again, and Calvin immediately picked up his own pace. These young men could have given the Alfitarian guard a run for their money, to be certain, he thought as he rounded another corner. The echoing became louder, and he looked over his shoulder again as he took another one, only to collide with something rather solid. Something that exclaimed when he hit it.

Only a lucky, instinctual dodge to the left saved his collarbone from being split. Calvin backpedaled, heart going even faster than before, if possible. The Selkie he'd struck tilted his head back and shouted, "In the eastern corridors, boys!"

The echo he'd thought had kept him forewarned was now working against him. He took off back the way he'd came, ignoring the unpleasant chuckle that followed him. The hound had bayed, and he knew that his options were closing quickly.

Back at the last corridor split, he'd gone left. This meant to traverse the new hall, he'd need to go left again. Calvin took that turn sharply as well, trying to will some speed into his flagging limbs. The sound of rushing and dripping water grew louder, and the sound of footsteps tapped into being as well. He could only pray that they were actually behind him this time.

Another corridor change, a signpost in old Selkic. If it read danger, he would never know, but he flung himself down that corridor anyway. Well, danger was better than death, anyway, he reassured himself, and kept going.

This path widened into an antechamber, with several caves branching off of it. The sound of water had only grown louder, and he paused in order to consider.

One of the caves was lit, and guarded partially by another signpost, this one with a wooden board flipped over on it. He could see the light glowing dimly. That most certainly meant people, or at least a return to the outside. Either way, it could increase his chances of getting caught. However, he had no idea what lay beyond the other dark entrances, and without a torch no way of knowing until he stumbled upon something.

Better the devil you know, he decided, and took off down the lit path.

"If you had enough gil for the ferry, where would you go?" Kal asked her friend, relaxing back against the smoothly cut side.

It was a game they'd played as children, imagining fates far beyond the sea. "I don't know," Riza answered, eyes closed as she relaxed further into the water. This was Kal's game, not hers. She'd taken to the life and the dangers of diving with all the practicality she'd taken towards the rest of her life. This was the way things were. "You?"

A dreamy voice replied, "Everywhere, maybe. Somewhere with fresh water, and trees. Maybe Fum. I hear it's so green there they sell it to other places, like the city."

Riza was about to laugh, but someone did it for her. "Aye, that's about as true as it gets."

Kal nearly shot out of the water at the sound of a man's voice, yet Riza turned slowly. Judging by the accent and the fact that he'd obviously missed the flipped 'occupied' sign, he must be a foreigner. She was rewarded by the sight of a disheveled Clavat, his fair hair going in all directions, as were his eyes.

"A dead end," the man swore, then turned back. He seemed not to notice their nudity, or not to care. He paused, listening to some far off sound, then swore again. "Begging your pardon, ladies," he said in a tone better reserved for the court of Alfitaria, "But if you wouldn't mind saving a poor soul, I'd be much obliged."

Finally picking up on the shouting, Kal straightened up. "What's going on? Who's chasing you?"

"Can't really say," he said, then at Riza's glare amended, "Don't really know. They tried to rob me, I tried to stop them, things get messy. Now, where can I hide?"

Riza knew it was a question with only one answer. There was simply no place to go in the bathing room, except, well... Thankfully, he'd yet to glance at either of their bodies, visible beneath the clear water. Perhaps it was true what they said, and Clavats really were gentle, honest people.

"Get in," she said, wading over to the edge and pointing down at the seat closest to her. "And stay under."

Kal moved from the pool, forgetting that foreigners had different standards of modesty. "Here," she said, handing him the breathing reed from her pack. She showed him how to breathe through the standard diving apparatus, then shooed him into the water.

Eager to be out of the path of danger, Calvin quickly slid into the pool. He breathed deeply several times, then sank below the surface. Tucking one end of the reed into his cheek like Kal said, he held his nose and practiced breathing through the tube.

It was easy enough, and he opened his eyes to watch the movement of the girls as they leaned on the ledge above him. Mostly he watched the way their breasts pressed against the limestone side.

What? He was a man, he had excellent peripheral vision, and he'd be damned if he missed this opportunity.

Really, they should never have trusted a Clavat.