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A Mythical Match Up - A Vivacious Vocalist part II
🕑 Added 2021-08-22 00:01:23 +0000 UTCRob exhaled and took a step back to inspect his progress. The microphone was in position, suspended a few feet above the desk on the boom arm. He'd secured the clip-on pop filter and rotated the microphone head to a forty-five degree downwards angle. Pro Tools was running and ready to go. He glanced down at the mixer board on the foldout table. Though he'd inevitably have to make some adjustments once they started recording, all the levels and settings looked right. He looked up and around at the new foam acoustic tiles arrayed along the north, east and west walls. Again, he would probably need to reposition them once he had a better feel for the sound but they'd at least dampen any echoes in the room.
After tweaking the audio feed for the fourth time and closing an unneeded background program to save memory, Rob grudgingly concluded that his home studio was as ready as it was going to be.
This meant he was only half-done with preparations.
He adjusted his glasses and glanced up at the clock. Cursing softly upon noting the late hour, he hurried out of his bedroom and into the living room.
Rob looked around. Owing to their divergent schedules, he rarely encountered his roommates in the apartment. They communicated mostly through texting and sticky notes left on the kitchen bulletin board. This disconnection had eventually led to a blasé attitude regarding household chores; any mess left in common areas would, it was generally assumed, be cleaned up by somebody else. And that somebody had usually been Rob. Growing tired of this, Rob had through a series of very emphatic sticky notes conveyed the importance of cleaning up after oneself and the consequences of failing to do so -specifically, losing access to the wireless network (which was in his name). Thus his roommates had taken a more active role in tidying, or at least not been leaving plates, cups, books, papers, empty Amazon boxes and other domestic detritus strewn in their wake. The living room couches and chairs were clean of crumbs. The coffee table was littered with a few magazines, a TV remote and game controllers but nothing else and while there were a few empty cardboard boxes in the room, they were neatly stacked in a corner near the front door.
Rob cleared the coffee table, dumping the magazines and controllers into one of the empty boxes, and then dusted the table's surface. He retrieved a sleek, blue cordless vacuum cleaner from the hall closet and ran it rapidly but methodically along the carpeted floor. Once the living room was acceptably clean he entered the kitchen. He pulled a frosty bottle of craft IPA, a can of sweet tea, a cup of ice and a pre-made chef's salad from the refrigerator. He also grabbed a jar of honey, a set of utensils, a stack of napkins and a half-dozen banana chocolate chip cookies from various drawers, jars, cabinets and nooks. He arranged every item on a large wooden serving tray, carried it to the living room and set it down on the coffee table.
Next came the bathroom - one of the two bathrooms in the apartment, in fact. Rob had a private one adjoining his bedroom but it only consisted of a sink, a mirror and a toilet. The other, larger one featured two sinks and a shower/bath and was shared. Fortunately - or rather, thanks to careful planning - none of his roommates would be around for quite some time. Rob carefully stowed all of the toothbrushes, combs, shaving kits, deodorants and other assorted toiletries in the drawers. From the same drawers he retrieved a mauve candle and wedged it in a small glass dish filled with colorful glass stones. He struck a match and lit the candle. A sweet lavender fragrance soon filled the bathroom. After putting out the match in the sink he removed a freshly laundered towel and fluffy pink bathrobe from the nearby dryer and hung both articles on racks. He also replaced the half-melted chuck of green soap in the shower/bath stall with a brand new bar - this one tan with red speckles.
Suddenly, Rob felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
He opened the Mythic Matches app. He checked his notifications and sure enough, Fili had just messaged him.
I am waiting.
"Yeah, yeah, hang on," muttered Rob.
He dimmed the bathroom lights and hurried back into the living room. He tapped the 'services' tab in Mythic Matches and then selected 'transportation.' He winced as he read the price; it had gone up. Nevertheless, he tapped 'buy.' He confirmed that yes, he was certain he wanted to make the purchase. Yes, he accepted the service contract. Yes, he knew it might take a few minutes. And once again, much to his chagrin, he forgot to check the 'do not show me this again' option.
A halo of shimmering blue light erupted in the air a few feet away. It rapidly brightened and coalesced into a roughly oval shape. Rob raised his hand to shield his eyes from the radiance but otherwise did not react. A few seconds later, a figure appeared in the light. Initially small, as though very far away, it grew larger and larger until it emerged from the halo and stepped into the living room. The light vanished.
"What took ye?" huffed Fili.
"We've been over this," said Rob irritably. "I get off work at seven. That only gives me thirty-odd minutes to set everything up before you come, assuming traffic isn't bad."
Fili scowled. The curvy young white-furred anthropomorphic rabbit wore a dull black dress that vaguely resembled a French maid's uniform without the white trims or apron. There were grey frills around the neck but otherwise it looked rather pedestrian. Though not exactly filthy, there were splatters of dust and dark spots in the fabric here and there. It was at very least in need of a wash. It clung tightly to her body, underscoring her impressive breasts and wide hips. She also wore a black lace choker but nothing else beyond that; her legs and oversized fuzzy white feet were shoeless and bare. A cotton-ball tail protruded from her shapely behind through a small hole in the dress.
She dropped the canvas bag she had been carrying, strode past Rob and snatched the IPA off the table. She popped the crown cap off the bottle - using her bare thumb, Rob noticed - and took a long swig.
"Hey, go easy on that," said Rob. "If you have to drink something drink the tea first."
Fili lowered the bottle, exhaled and wiped her mouth.
"I'll drink whatever I damn well please," she sniffed. "An' that stuff doesn't do a thing for my voice," she nodded at the bottle of tea.
"Actually, I went over the recordings from last time and-..." Rob trailed off upon seeing the annoyed look on Fili's face. "Fine, whatever," he sighed, waiving his hand. "Just...promise me you'll drink a little of it before we start, okay? With the honey?"
"Feh, fine," said Fili, rolling her pink eyes.
She took another drink and then plopped back onto the couch. She turned lengthwise along its plush surface and stretched languidly, resting her head and feet on the armrests. She crossed her legs. "Put everything the launderin' machine," she said, pointing at the bag. "I'll change out of these rags when it's done and take a shower. Then we'll get to recordin.'"
Rob glowered but said nothing. He reached down and lifted the surprisingly heavy bag off the carpet. He turned the bag over and, after a few shakes, dislodged its contents onto the floor. At first glance it just appeared to be a pile of dirty fabric and rags. But they were indeed clothes - tunics, robes, cloaks, vests, hose, skirts, and more - nearly everything seemingly pulled from a Renaissance fair. Rob also spotted a few pouches and purses, some of which he recognized as Fili's.
"Hey, wait a sec," said Rob. He looked up at Fili. "There's no way all of this is yours."
"Just put it in the machine," said Fili impatiently. "The clothes, I mean. Not the pouches. Don't touch those."
Rob pulled an off-white shirt several sizes too large for Fili (or him) from the pile.
"Whose is this?" he asked, holding the shirt in the air. "Fili, please don't tell me you stole these. I mean, why-"
"Ye think I'd stoop to filching clothes off the back of some poor sod?" said Fili indignantly. She hesitated. "Well, maybe some of those gold-trimmed amberdine robes the fops wear - they'd fetch a fine price - but no."
"...Well?"
"If ye must know, they belong to a couple o' friends of mine." She hesitated. "And, er, some of their friends - friends of friends - and, uh, that one minotaur family that lives near the Slumps..."
"You're charging people to have me do their laundry, aren't you?"
"Ah, quit your whining," said Fili. "It's not as though it's much work on your part with that fancy contraption of yours."
"Yeah, unless all this breaks it," said Rob irately, gazing down at the tangled heap of filthy garments. He paused. "Crap, why did I pour everything out here?" he groaned.
"'Cause you're thicker than a pile o' rocks," said Fili, reaching for one of the cookies.
Still grumbling, Rob stuffed all of the clothes back into the bag and dragged it to the washer. He dumped everything on the tile floor adjoining the machine and started sorting the darks from what could only laughingly be called the whites. Here and there among the damp, dusty, stained and sometimes even mud-caked medieval apparel he found a few pieces of clothing from Earth - Fili's clothes. Most of them were dresses and women's undergarments - all stylish and well-made. Rob held up a pair of silky black panties, blushed and quickly dropped them, nervously glancing over his shoulder. He separated the modern articles from everything else along with the pouches and stuffed as many as the darks into the washer as he dared.
"This might take a while," he called.
"Ye paid for the day-trip, dinnit ye?" replied Fili.
"Yeah?"
"Then there's no hurry."
Rob sighed. He decanted a substantial volume of detergent into the washer, shut the door and set it to 'Extra Heavy Soil.' The machine rumbled to life.
When he returned to the living room Fili was still lounging on the couch. To Rob's dismay she had retrieved a few of the controllers from the box and turned the television on. She had opened the web browser and was already scrolling through a selection of dresses on Etsy.
"I'm beginning to regret showing you how to do that," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you have enough clothes?"
"It's my money," said Fili sourly.
Rob opened his mouth to point out she should be saving to buy her way out of indentured servitude.
"And don't ye start on how I should be savin' my coins to buy my freedom," snapped Fili, looking up at him.
"I-"
"I told ye when we first met - the mistress isn't cruel and the work ain't backbreaking," said Fili. "I have a roof over my head and never have to worry about going hungry. Plenty o' folk in Vernali can't say the same." She paused. "So now that I do have a bit o' wealth I'm going to use it as I damn well please," she continued. "Speaking of which..." she said meaningfully.
"I'll check our earnings in a little bit," sighed Rob.
"Check now."
"I just got home and I haven't even had a chance to eat," said Rob with strained patience. "I prepared the bathroom just the way you like it. The towel and bathrobe are clean and I got the soap and scented candle. Plus, you know..." he gestured at the food on the tray.
"I wanted fettuccine alfredo, not this mess o' greens," growled Fili, folding her arms.
Rob's right eye twitched.
"Relax, ye great lump," said Fili, laughing suddenly. "I'm taking the piss. This'll do." She paused. "Buy fettuccine aldredo next time."
With that, she opened the plastic box holding the salad, grabbed a fork and started eating. Rob sighed. He curtsied exaggeratedly.
"Yes, your highness," he said in a mocking tone.
Fili snorted. "A clumsy bow like that'd get you a smack back home."
"Good thing we're not back home," muttered Rob as he stalked out of the living room.
Rob sat at his desk, minimized Pro Tools and opened Chrome. He checked his YouTube account's ad revenue, Patreon earnings, earnings on SoundCloud and a few other music streaming services. He pulled a pocket calculator from a drawer, added everything up and then deducted the month's expenses. He stared at the total. It was about what he had expected, which was not a good thing.
Fili glanced up at him as he emerged from the hallway.
"Well?" she asked impatiently. "How much did I make?"
Rob told her.
"That's it?" she cried, half-surprised, half-angry.
"Yep," said Rob, walking past her. He entered the kitchen.
"Now...now hold on," said Fili, sitting up. "That's...a great deal less than before!"
"It is," called Rob as he opened the refrigerator.
"Why?"
Rob stepped out of the kitchen holding a soda bottle and bag of chips.
"I'd be more than happy to go over the numbers with you," he said, gesturing down the hall.
"Feh. For all I know those numbers are fake."
"I told you I can't fake the numbers on those websites," said Rob wearily. He took a seat on a chair next to the couch. "It is what it is. So, do you want me to transfer your share to the bank, spend it here or should I use it to send you gifts through Mythic Matches?"
"I want my full share in licente silver coins," said Fili, pouting.
Rob opened his soda bottle and took a drink before replying.
"It's too soon to risk it, Fili," he said. "I've gone over the user agreement hundreds of times and even though still I don't understand all of it, I'm pretty sure we're breaking the rules here. Bending them, at least." He opened his bag of chips. "You're not supposed to use Mythic Matches to run a business."
"We're not running a business," said Fili insistently. "We have a...arrangement."
"An arrangement that looks a hell of a lot like a business," said Rob. He grabbed a handful of chips, stuffed them in his mouth and started chewing. He swallowed. "You sing, I record, edit and upload," he said. "Then we split the proceeds from ad revenue, Patreon and streaming services. It's not exactly a conventional business model but, well..." he shrugged. "Sending you regular cash payments would look too suspicious. Besides, you said it's easy to sell those gifts in the market."
"It all sells, true - 'specially those Hershey bars - but those pox-eaten merchants have been paying less and less each week."
"Well, I can't help you there," said Rob. He hesitated. "Look, to tell you the truth, this month's income wasn't too different from last month's. But expenses are up. Mythic Matches raised the price for a day trip and I needed to buy new equipment."
"If ye buy more equipment it should come out of your share," said Fili, scowling. "I sing, ye handle everything else. That was the agreement."
"The microphone was on its last legs, Fili," said Rob. "And I only bought the damn thing because I was thinking about starting a podcast, not recording songs. I never used vocals in my music until now. Without a decent microphone we're dead in the water." He took a deep breath and then exhaled. "And I never charge you for the food, the booze, the...expensive bathroom stuff, if you want to go down that road. It's not like you need it to sing. Not to mention the way you've co-opted my washer and dryer to make a quick buck on the side!"
"You're such a selfish git, Rob!" exclaimed Fili.
"What? Me selfish? Talk about the kettle calling the pot black," snapped Rob.
The two glared at each other.
"Look," sighed Rob eventually. "Let's...finish eating before talking any more business. We're both tired and hungry."
Fili's expression did not change aside from a slight narrowing of her eyes. Saying nothing, she grabbed the salad and a fork off the coffee table, sat back and continued eating in silence. Rob ate a few more handfuls of chips before returning to the kitchen to prepare something more substantial. He popped a frozen burrito into the microwave and steamed a head of broccoli. By the time he returned to the living room - plate of food in hand - Fili had finished the salad and was munching on the last of the cookies. Rob sat and took a careful bite of the still steaming burrito. He winced and put the plate down.
"Ach, that wormy-thing smells like week-old haggis," said Fili suddenly, waving her hand in front of her nose.
Rob gave her a look. He started eating the broccoli while waiting for the burrito to cool.
"Why do ye that slop, Rob?" persisted Fili. "Your world makes plenty o' decent food."
"It's quick, cheap and easy," said Rob between mouthfuls. "And it tastes better than it smells." He paused. "I do know how to cook, you know. I just don't have the time these days between work, editing and...our thing,"
"Speakin' of our 'thing...'" said Fili.
"I'm still eating."
"Well, I'm not."
"Fine, dammit," sighed Rob. He ate another forkful of broccoli and then set the plate on the floor before continuing.
"Look, I do have this one idea." He hesitated. "I was going to bring it up tonight anyways, but if it works, it should bring in some more money. It, uh, it's kind of out there. At least, I used to think it was out there, but I've been doing some research and, well, it'd take a lot of work on our end but-"
"By the gods above and below!" exclaimed Fili, rolling her eyes. "Out with it."
Rob took a deep breath,
"I think we should put on a live, virtual concert," he said.
There was a pause.
"A...what?" said Fili, cocking her head.
"Okay, this will take some explaining, so bear with me," said Rob, leaning forward. "Yes, our income has been plateauing over the last couple months, but our popularity is still rising. In fact, two weeks ago a really famous voice actress over in Japan tweeted a link to our song Polychromatic Twilight. You wouldn't believe how many views it got afterwards..." Rob trailed off, noting the blank expression on Fili's face. "Long story short, a lot of people like your songs. And more to the point, you. I've been getting message after message asking what your Twitter, Instagram or even Facebook accounts are. They want to know the singer."
"Well that's too bad," said Fili, shrugging. "Ye know I cannot show my face to anyone else in your world."
"Er, well, not exactly," said Rob. "Like I said, I've been reading the Mythic Matches user guide and there are a lot of workarounds. I mean, there are all those potions you could take. But honestly, we could just pop a vtuber avatar over you and we'd be set."
"A what?"
"It's...like that illusion potion," said Rob carefully. "It will project an image over you - make you look like a carto-...a living picture." He looked thoughtfully at her. "You know, you could actually pass for a human who was just made up to look like a rabbit girl."
"A beastkin," snapped Fili.
"Right, sorry. We'd have to bind those ears so they'd look like prosthetics, but otherwise, I really don't think it'd be a big deal. After all, you wouldn't be doing the concert in front of a large crowd. We'd set up a camera in the studio and broadcast it."
Once again, Fili stared at him blankly, though this time with a tinge of irritation.
"Um, are there magic crystal balls or mirrors in your world?" asked Rob, grasping for some way to explain it. "The kind that let people see and talk to each other across long distances?"
"What...oh yes, those, of course," said Fili, bemused.
"Well, we'd basically be doing that. Only there'd be thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people watching and listening." Excitement was creeping into Rob's voice. "We could start out with a chat session where you answer some fan questions - I'll be there to help you through any of the tough ones - then move onto a couple of the old songs - Ecstasy/Agony, Blurbe, Enchânte, maybe Scintillating Summer - and then premiere a new one or two."
"How exactly is this going to make money?" she asked.
"Well, we could charge a small fee to access the concert," said Rob. "Even if only a couple of hundred of people log in that's a couple hundred dollars right there. But I think the real money will come from donations. People can actually donate money during the concert. You said you used to busk on the street when you were little? It's just like that. Only a much, much bigger audience focused entirely on you - an audience that may donate ten, twenty, even fifty dollars at a time - maybe more."
"Fifty dollars?" said Fili sharply. Her long white ears sprung up.
"Uh, yeah," said Rob, grinning. "I mean, I can't guarantee it, but, well, a lot of your fans are really curious about you. Up until now they've only known you through your vocals. We should create a stage persona - Fili the rabbit, singer, virtual pop-idol. Everyone will think the whole, er, beastkin thing is a bit - that you're just some human who puts on make-up to look like a beastkin. I know it sounds weird, but trust me, they'll eat it up. With any luck we won't just make a lot of money from the concert but raise your profile - more fans, more views, more subscribers, more followers, more earnings."
Rob took a swig of soda; his voice had been getting dry from the pitch.
"What if...what if someone from Vernali sees this concert?" asked Fili cautiously. "And then the mistress or someone else of the house catches word? I'd be in a heap o' trouble."
"What? Come on, Fili," said Rob, smiling. "The broadcast wouldn't go out to your world - only Earth. It's not like they even have computers or phones, let alone TVs. I mean, I guess there might be some people in your world who watch YouTube videos because they've hooked up with a human through Mythic Matches, but there can't be a lot of them. And what are the odds it would be someone who knows you?"
"You're forgettin' I learned the Mythic Matches spell watching the mistress," said Fili sharply.
"Oh, crap...that's right," said Rob, frowning. He gave this some thought. "Er...have you seen her use it a lot lately? Has she been going on dates with humans? Said or done anything that would make you think she knows a lot about Earth?"
"What? Er...No?" said Fili, blinking.
"Then she probably doesn't use it anymore," said Rob. "But to be on the safe side we won't use your real name. We'll come up with a stage-name for you. Anyways, why would you get in trouble for doing this? I mean, as long as we hold the concert on one of your days off, you should be fine."
"I am a servant of the house and the mistress. I am obligated to protect the good name of both."
There was something off about the way she spoke when she replied, Rob noted. It was as though she had been reading the words from some unseen script. It hadn't been the first time she'd responded in such a way to inquiries regarding the family she worked for.
"I'm...not sure how putting on a virtual concert in another dimension would sully the name of your house," said Rob, giving her a disconcerted grin. "But, like I said, we'll take precautions."
Fili frowned. She absently scratched her right ear.
"Just sleep on it," said Rob. "If you want to take this to the next level this is the way to go. You're a fantastic singer, Fili. And with my songs you could be unstoppable. I can name about a dozen artists on Earth who aren't half as good as you and they make millions!"
"Millions?" said Fili suddenly, almost leaping from the couch.
"Yeah, millions," said Rob.
"As in, millions of dollars? The dollar that can buy a week of food and have enough left over for a pint o' decent ale?"
"Er, yeah."
Fili stared at him.
"Yer lying," she growled.
"I'm not," said Rob, also rising from his seat. "Okay. Luck is definitely a factor. There are a bunch of really talented artists out there who never got as popular as they should have. But you have...I don't know how to put it...Charisma? Potential? Momentum? That...spark? You could be the next big thing! Or at least a make a decent living as a performing artist instead of scraping by as an indentured servant and part-time thief."
Rob realized he had been half-yelling towards the end. He awkwardly cleared his throat.
Fili silently considered all this.
"I...I'll think about it," she said at last.
"That's all I ask," said Rob in a much quieter voice. "I'll...work up some preliminary ideas just in case. But, uh, if you decide not to, that's fine."
Fili nodded. She stretched her arms over her head, shook her body and then sighed loudly. The excitement and tension quickly evaporated from the room.
"I'm taking a shower now," she announced. "I'll leave my clothes outside the bathroom as usual."
"Yeah, I know the routine," said Rob. "We're already a bit behind schedule so come straight to the studio once you're dressed."
"I'll take as long as I want!" harrumphed Fili.
* * *
The twisty alleys, streets and avenues of lower Vernali reverberated with the voices and footsteps of a multitude of races and creatures. A group of vulpine beastfolk wearing dull green-and-grey raiment and wide-brimmed straw hats drove lines of covered wagons along the boulevard. Tight phalanxes of magnificently attired elven guards marched along cobblestones. Their golden chorcadium-alloy helmets shone like miniature suns in the morning light. The wide doors of one of the countless tiny stone and adobe buildings swung open, revealing a crowded blacksmith shop manned by a family of yellow-bearded dwarves. Almost as soon as the shop had opened, a small crowd of rodent beastfolk clustered around it. Hulking ursine beastfolk dressed in little more than loincloths and leather bracelets carried heavy granite blocks to a bridge under construction. Smoke from ovens, hearths, braziers, torches, forges and candles mingled with the ever-present miasma of dung, rot, grime and musk. Above and to the north, not so far away but seemingly beyond everything, laid a thickly forested hill dotted with gleaming crystal spires so tall they tickled the clouds. Every so often, a flying beast could be seen flapping in the air between the towers.
Fili stared out at all of this from a narrow lane. She wore a faded black cloak - hood over her head - over a simple forest-green dress and brown trousers. She wore no shoes or socks, trusting her thick leathery pads to protect her feet from any debris. A careful observer would have noticed a bulge around her back, hinting that she was carrying something beneath her cloak.
Seeing no sign of anyone who might wish her harm, Fili stepped out and started walking along the street. She maneuvered between a greengrocer and a customer arguing over the price and quality of a basket of cabbage, casually snatching a carrot from the former's booth as she passed them; neither noticed her. She reached a congested five-way intersection, turned left and continued along a much narrower street.
Fili gazed around as she walked, munching on her purloined snack. It was quieter here. Dirtier, too. Beggars and drunkards could be seen lounging along the buildings, a few of which were clearly abandoned, some falling apart. Every so often the sound of a crying infant or barking dog filled the air. Eventually, the street ended in a cul-de-sac dominated by a large two-story brick and thatch structure. Its windows were small and lined with metal bars. A rusted iron circle with two bars above it forming an inverted 'V' was affixed above the main doors of the edifice.
"S'pare a coin for a blind old soldier, lass?"
Fili stopped, turned and looked down at a skinny, disheveled squirrel beastfolk draped in rags. A dirty white bandana was tied around his eyes.
"Give it a rest, Doogan," she snapped, giving the recumbent anthropomorphic squirrel a soft kick.
"Oh, sorry Fili," said the squirrel, grinning. His teeth were as yellow as corn. "Couldn't see it was you. Hah! I wager in a few years I'll only be half-lying about being a blind soldier."
"Surprised to see you here," said Fili, making no effort to hide her contempt for him.
"Oh, some pox-eaten pointy-eared watchmen drove me from my usual spot at the market," he sighed. "Said I'd have to pay a fine for vagrancy if they caught me there again. Last thing I want is to end up like you, Fili," he added, still grinning.
Fili rolled her eyes, turned and left him.
"Seriously though, could you spare some of that loot for your old mate Doogan?" he called as she walked away.
Ignoring him, Fili circled around the large two-story building. She made her way along an alley so narrow she was forced to turn and sidle through it. She stepped out into a small trash-strewn yard at the rear of the building. Crumbling remnants of what had once, presumably, been a stone wall lined its perimeter. Crude fences had been erected a little farther out to demarcate the yard from the surrounding homes and businesses. It was eerily quiet here - even more so than the rest of the neighborhood.
Fili removed her hood. Her floppy white ears popped up. She approached a heavy-looking braced wooden door near a corner of the building. She knocked and waited. A minute or so later she knocked again, this time louder. A few seconds passed. Then, a wooden panel behind the door slid back, revealing a small rectangular opening.
"It's me," said Fili.
She peered, tiptoed, through the opening. There didn't appear to be anyone on the other side of the door.
"I brought some stuff you could use," she added.
Fili heard a click followed by a dull thump from within. She took a step back. The door slowly swung outwards. A short figure stood at the threshold.
"Prior Sto?" said Fili, surprised.
The figure stepped out into the yard. It was a child - an anthropomorphic fox cub no taller than Fili's waist. He (she?) wore only an oversized threadbare linen shirt. His (her?) eyes were sunken and sad. No sooner had the fox appeared than a swarm of similarly attired children of various ages and species rushed out from the building and swarmed Fili, tugging at her cloak.
"I'm hungry!"
"Did you bring us food?"
"Wanna sweetie!"
"My eyes hurt!"
"I needa blanke!"
"Ach! Easy, easy, ye little shites! protested Fili, backing away.
Eventually a taller child emerged. She was green-skinned with long tusks and greasy black hair.
"Back off or I'll knock you back," she roared at the rest of the children, shoving a pair of squirming rodent beastfolk to the dirt.
The children complied. They quickly retreated a few feet and huddled together in a silent mass.
The green-skinned child - teenager, more likely - turned to Fili and nodded.
"Sorry 'bout that," she said.
"The prior sleeping off a hangover, Tamanz?" asked Fili wearily.
"Wouldn't know; haven't seen her for almost a week," said Tamanz, shrugging.
"What? She abandoned ye? The refuge?" said Fili, taken aback.
"Don't sound so surprised, Fili," said Tamanz, shaking her head.
"What happens when the abbess visits?"
"Dunno. Probably close the refuge. Won't make much of a difference. Even if they shut this place they're not going to bother locking it up or smashing it. We'll just stay. Hell, with Sto gone we won't have to worry about her dipping into the donation box for liquor."
"But once the refuge shuts down there won't bea donation box," pointed out Fili.
"Well, we have you, don't we?" said Tamanz, grinning toothily.
Fili sighed. She reached under her cloak and unslung the heavy backpack she had been carrying. It was made of shiny black nylon with grey polyester straps and plastic clamps. It looked remarkably out of place - alien, almost otherworldly - in the dirty yard. She unzipped the top flap and flipped the backpack upside down. Its contents tumbled out onto the street.
"I brought granola bars, corn chips, trail mix, dried fruit, pop-tarts, Hershey bars, the usual," said Fili, gesturing at the pile of shiny packages. "Should be enough to last a couple o' days. A week, if ye aren't greedy."
As one, the children edged closer to the food but didn't dare pass Tamanz.
"What about coin?" asked Tamanz. "This stuff is great but coin is even better."
"And I'm just supposed to trust ye with the money?" said Fili, folding her arms.
Tamanz's grin widened. She held out her arms.
"Why not? Like I'm any worse than Sto."
Fili narrowed her eyes.
"Tell me what you need and I'll get it for ye," said Fili slowly.
"Your next day off isn't for a fortnight," observed Tamanz. "We can't wait that long, especially with Sto gone. Even when she tried to keep all the coins for herself we could usually filch a few of them for food."
"I'll sneak off some night," sighed Fili. "So long as I don't have any duties after sunset the choker shouldn't stop me." She paused. "Come to think of it, I already know what ye need - clean blankets, lilyweave ointment, shale pellets, coal, lamp oil and soap."
"And that toilet paper from the other world," said Tamanz.
"Aye, fine. It's been surprisingly hard to get a hold of lately but I'll see what I can do."
Tamanz frowned, giving Fili an angry look.
"Alright," she growled. "It'd better come. We're barely surviving as it is."
"We're all barely surviving," said Fili, shrugging. "Way o' the Realms."
"Not so much for you anymore," said Tamanz resentfully. "I bet it won't be long until you're being carried around the weald on a palanquin, lounging on a bed of silk and pillows."
"Watch it," snarled Fili, ears flattening. "I'd sooner leap off the Northstart Spire than live like those fops. Not that they'd ever accept me."
"Except you already do," said Tamanz, giving her one last baleful look before turning and nodding at the other children, who descended upon the pile of food like locusts.
"Two each," bellowed Tamanz over the sound of tearing wrappers. "If I catch anyyas gnawing on anything after the second I'll smack you so hard yer mothers will feel it in their graves."
Fili turned away from the mob of children. She took a few steps forward; her lower lips were trembling. Then, she looked back - not at the children, but at the building. Her pained expression slowly turned to a thoughtful one.
