Killua sidestepped a drunken Chimera male, dexterously slipping out of his range with that cat-like grace of his. He sighed.
I hate Lexterdays.
The day before the Day of Rites and Rituals, Lexterdays were always hectic at the tavern. Humanoids of every stance and stature flocked to the Clawthorne Inn and Tavern, hoping for a night of leisure before the formalities associated with the Day of Rites and Rituals, which resided at the end of every week. Most species and cultures held specific traditions and conditions to be met to please their various gods, goddesses, cultural customs, or even earthly urges.
So they'd come here to get drunk, party, and even bedded if lucky. They'd participate in as much worldly activity as humanoidly possible before the day of spiritual cleansing. For those who were religions, that was.
Personally, Killua had no special connection to the Day of Rites and Rituals. Technically, according to his species' customs, the Day of Rites and Rituals was a day to fast from eating or drinking anything carnivorous, to have only vegan sustenance - it was for "luck in battle" or some nonsense like that. But Killua had never believed in all that superstitious mumbo-jumbo. So he simply didn't participate.
Besides, the Day of Rites and Rituals was his only day off, the day he was most likely to happen across some poor sucker with particularly rich bone marrow. It would be no fun if he couldn't eat any humanoids on his one day off.
Killua swiped a couple of trays off of a golden oak wood table, clearing it from the couple of selkies who were currently lost in eachothers mouths. Killua wrinkled his nose as he left them to their business. A male and a female. He'd probably end up having to direct them to one of the private rooms upstairs before anything got too explicit.
He wasn't in the mood for another incident like the one that had happened last Globbersday.
Killua shook the unwanted memories from his head as he ducked under the fabric curtain that led to the back room and kitchen. He dumped his stack of trays into the sink for the current Goblin on duty to clean. The Goblin - Morel - grunted in acknowledgement of the new dishes to be cleaned. Killua exited the kitchen, ducking under the tattered fabric of the curtain and back into the tavern itself.
The tavern had dark, beetle wood walls with a cobbled stone floor. Done up with rocks of all shapes and sizes and sealed with a clay aggregate that tended to puddle up with… whatever manner of liquid ended up on the floor. With such a diverse assortment of humanoids that came… Killua was perfectly fine not knowing exactly what that was. The tavern was filled with golden oak wood tables of varying heights and lengths, to accommodate all manner of humanoids. From Dwarfs to the occasional small Titan, the Clawthorne Inn and Tavern served all.
The Clawthorne was a squat building (or so it appeared) nestled in the back corner of a random town in the midst of the Netherbrooke Forest. In normal terms: the middle of nowhere. The tavern and inn backed up against the cliff face at the far edge of town, and the building actually extended into the rock face. The building looked tiny, however it was quite spacious once you got inside.
The restaurant section was rather large, about the area of 2 Zozzerball fields. The floorplan was abnormal and winding, the floor rising to different levels at some points. Little step ups were scattered throughout the space. Pillars of rock held up the ceiling, and mosses and lichens hung from the warm colored rock overhead.
By the light of a thousand fairy lights, the tavern had a buttery atmosphere too it. It was a warm place - smelly, strangely laid out, and overcrowded - but warm. Although he would never admit it, Killua loved the Clawthorne.
Behind the tavern was a labyrinth of interlocking hallways stock full of different rooms prepped for staying in. That made up the inn section of the complex. Killua had his own room deep in the recesses of the rock. This is where he had lived and worked for the past 9 months… Ever since he had run away from home.
Killua continued his work. Luckily, he was not on waiter duty tonight. He hated taking orders and delivering food on Lexterdays. The cat calls were so annoying. Sometimes he cursed his bordering on feminine grace and figure.
Speaking of unwanted attention, Killua stifled a growl as a lone elf attempted to loop his arm around his waist. He twirled out of his slightly intoxicated reach, doing a 180 before turning to give the elven man an annoyed look. He had learned the hard way that starting things was never helpful. It was always best to just brush off the unwanted attention and continue on.
Not killing people is hard..
The elf gave him a shit eating grin. He had honey blonde hair, finely tanned skin, and eyes the color of pink satin-crystals. His teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white (as all elven teeth were), and his lips were full and sparkling with a gloss left over from one of the various beverages served at the tavern. He wasn't too horribly drunk, none of the elves ever were, just a little tipsy.
"Come on now, baby, don't be like that," he purred.
Dumb ass.
Killua promptly flipped him off, elbowed a Gargoyle out of the way, and disappeared into the crowd, much to the elven man's dismay. Oh how Killua would have loved to snap his neck. He hated elf blood - it was far too sour for his liking - but he would have drank it just out of spite.
Unfortunately, the owner of the tavern, Knov, got pissed off whenever Killua killed the visitors. Especially when he ate them and strung what was left of their corpses (Killua was a bit of a picky eater) from the fairy lights for all to see.
Killua clucked his tongue, so disappointing.
The pretty ones always had the best tasting livers.
Shoving thoughts about eating the blonde elf's innards out of his mind, Killua continued his work. He made his way to the bar, where Palm (the mermaid/human hybrid) was serving up drinks. Killua met her moonstone gaze and smirked. She rolled her eyes. They had never quite gotten along~. He slipped behind the bar and grabbed the enchanted mop.
From there he started his rounds.
Cleaning the floors was therapeutic. He preferred it by far over the activities he would be doing were he still at home. Killua made his way around the tavern, mopping up whatever sludge he found on the floor.
At first he had hated the dirty work. Cleaning had made him feel like some sort of housemaid at first arrival, but it was much better than taking orders. Being the only male front of house worker, he tended to get his fair share of unwanted attention. From both his fellow waitresses and the guests.
Killua pressed himself flush against a pillar to avoid a passing Cryptid.
The stupid lady was carrying a drink in each clawed hand and would have pressed up against his waist with those feathered elbows of hers. Killua glared at the back of her head, if he stared any harder he would have set her nest of grayish hair ablaze.
He continued his work, just a tad rattled.
It wasn't that he hated being touched by passing people (well he hated physical contact but still). It was just that he couldn't afford people feeling up his waist. Because that's where he was hiding his tail.
Now, tails were not uncommon, especially in a back-of-the woods gathering place such as this one. However, concealing his species' belonging features had always been a priority of his. Killua was a Valkyrie, a Dragonite Valkyrie to be exact. And he didn't want any of the unwanted attention that came with being a top tier humanoid.
Valkyrie blood was powerful, many a hunter would attack just for a slim chance of getting a mere drop of his blood. Not to mention the honor that many species believed they would get by defeating, or killing one, in battle.
Those circumstances may only be issues for the lower class Valkyries - no one's gonna challenge a Dragonite Valkyrie for God's sake - but my kind are still rare. Seeing a Valkyrie walking around always draws attention. Also I'd prefer not to be found. The last thing I want is to be dragged back to that damned mountain.
So that was why Killua always wore high collared shirts - to hide his tattoos (of intertwining thorns that twisted up his neck and across his body). That was why he wore a mask over his nose and mouth - to hide his peculiarly beautiful features and sharp incisors. And that was why he always kept his tail wrapped around his waist.
If anyone brushed up against him or felt him up, they would find his tail.
It was clearly a Valkyrie tail, and even being a Valkyrie hybrid would draw unwanted attention. It was all just anxiety, and Killua knew that. He was anxious and self conscious of his features and species, but he didn't care or feel ashamed of his negative emotions. He hated being a Valkyrie. He hated the air raids and assassinations and violence. He especially hated his cultural customs and family life. That's why he had finally snapped and decided to leave. He'd slashed his mother in the face, stabbed his brother in the side and ran away from home.
He was sure they were out for blood, but that didn't matter to him. If they showed he'd just kill them. Besides, they'd NEVER find him with his features disguised like they were. The world was far too diverse to locate one specific wingless, tailless Valkyrie.
Killua smirked to himself and continued his work.
Only three more hours till the end of his shift, then he could get away with eating that elf's liver.
AN: It's kinda slow at first but it gets way better I swear! I'll be updating every day (until I catch up with what I have prewritten at least) Reviews are much appreciated!