aurichalcyon
Member
- Messages
- 9
Autumn,
Allira
The stench of human sweat and the tang of fizzing ales clawed at Mibu's senses. He was not used to sleeping on a bed, the sheets annoyed him and the lights in the inn downstairs had gone out, but the common room still sparked with the chatter and commotion of humans. The local workers laboured over drinks and games of chance. Travellers spoke of their journeys and the weather and it was all a bit much for a fox.
Finally giving up on sleeping, Mibu slipped from the small room on the pretense of finding a spot to relieve himself and took a few coins into the city.
The evening closed the regular shops and darkened windows and signs in the common tongue. He admired the boats on the waterfront, couples romantically propelled along under bridges, drinking wine under starlight and reciting poetry for the oarsman and each other.
The city smelled, constantly, but once he accounted for the strange and constant onslaught of these smells, and the battering of voices and sights and colours- he would be quite under control.
So it was, Mibufuda, wandered away from the safety of the inn, against the advice of the last guidebook he had read about city life, as the face of this grand place changed dramatically when night fell.
The activity of shadier areas began to increase, half-breeds flashed their ankles at him from the corners of flower-stands. "Fancy a flower, sir?"
Mibu, shook his head and followed his nose to a man serving pints of ale for an outdoor seating, a drinking garden. The small cart of ale sat beside another vendor plying cooked chicken on skewers and drenched in some sort of spicy sauce. Patrons here ran to the cheaper expenditure of coins compared to the inn that he and Kira had booked and the smell of the cooked birds piqued his curiosity.
He purchased one of the frothy pints of ale and a stick of the potent chicken-chili skewer. The evening suffered from a slight increase in humidity from the drizzle of rain still threatening in the sky overhead, and Mibu sat on one of the few unoccupied benches in the little drinking corner and ate his skewers. The moons were especially big and his eyes widened to saucers while his ears pricked to the sound of domestic dogs howling.
It was a howling sort of night and Mibu opened his mouth briefly, a small, frustrated whine catching under his breath. Humans, he reminded himself, sternly, did not howl.
He took a large bite of his chicken and the urge to howl rose again, but this time from the shock as the heat of the spices hit his palette and all but decimated his poor tongue.
A white, fluffy fox tail uncurled from his underside, standing straight on edge in clear discomfort.
The ale did nothing to quell the sudden burning, nor, Mibu discovered, did applying a touch of ice to the alcohol and then drinking it. No. This was no ordinary dish, but one meat to challenge even the bravest of warriors.
He looked around, desperate for somewhere to throw the remaining meal, where it could do no more harm to a delicate kitsune's constitution.
Allira
The stench of human sweat and the tang of fizzing ales clawed at Mibu's senses. He was not used to sleeping on a bed, the sheets annoyed him and the lights in the inn downstairs had gone out, but the common room still sparked with the chatter and commotion of humans. The local workers laboured over drinks and games of chance. Travellers spoke of their journeys and the weather and it was all a bit much for a fox.
Finally giving up on sleeping, Mibu slipped from the small room on the pretense of finding a spot to relieve himself and took a few coins into the city.
The evening closed the regular shops and darkened windows and signs in the common tongue. He admired the boats on the waterfront, couples romantically propelled along under bridges, drinking wine under starlight and reciting poetry for the oarsman and each other.
The city smelled, constantly, but once he accounted for the strange and constant onslaught of these smells, and the battering of voices and sights and colours- he would be quite under control.
So it was, Mibufuda, wandered away from the safety of the inn, against the advice of the last guidebook he had read about city life, as the face of this grand place changed dramatically when night fell.
The activity of shadier areas began to increase, half-breeds flashed their ankles at him from the corners of flower-stands. "Fancy a flower, sir?"
Mibu, shook his head and followed his nose to a man serving pints of ale for an outdoor seating, a drinking garden. The small cart of ale sat beside another vendor plying cooked chicken on skewers and drenched in some sort of spicy sauce. Patrons here ran to the cheaper expenditure of coins compared to the inn that he and Kira had booked and the smell of the cooked birds piqued his curiosity.
He purchased one of the frothy pints of ale and a stick of the potent chicken-chili skewer. The evening suffered from a slight increase in humidity from the drizzle of rain still threatening in the sky overhead, and Mibu sat on one of the few unoccupied benches in the little drinking corner and ate his skewers. The moons were especially big and his eyes widened to saucers while his ears pricked to the sound of domestic dogs howling.
It was a howling sort of night and Mibu opened his mouth briefly, a small, frustrated whine catching under his breath. Humans, he reminded himself, sternly, did not howl.
He took a large bite of his chicken and the urge to howl rose again, but this time from the shock as the heat of the spices hit his palette and all but decimated his poor tongue.
A white, fluffy fox tail uncurled from his underside, standing straight on edge in clear discomfort.
The ale did nothing to quell the sudden burning, nor, Mibu discovered, did applying a touch of ice to the alcohol and then drinking it. No. This was no ordinary dish, but one meat to challenge even the bravest of warriors.
He looked around, desperate for somewhere to throw the remaining meal, where it could do no more harm to a delicate kitsune's constitution.