[preppy] Wit and Shrike don't prepare at all for anything

    “We're going to… a party.” Shrike's face was less than enthused as they said this.

    Wit scoffed, a soft elbow in Shrike's side. 

    “We can't just hope to find the black market walking down the street. Well, at least not with your luck. We have to look for it! And isn't that so much more exciting.”

    Shrike turned their big wet emotionless eyes up at Wit, unblinking.

    “You can't disturb me out of this, you dusty hobgoblin. And anyways, the party is pretty deep down in the vault. Aren’t you into creepy things like that? And there's brew tasting to be had!” Wit waved an arm grandiose-ly towards their destination.

    At these words, Shrike's naturally blank face didn't change expression, but somehow their on-boardness shined through. Like a vibration deep down in their soul. They walked off in the direction Wit was gesturing. 

    Wit just smiled, and skipped off in the same direction, whacking away the thick underbrush with his tail.

~~

    There were many openings to the vault- it was almost more like an organic growth than some ancient structure. Shrike eyed the rust and moss tangling along the edges of the metal. They scratched out a note in their mind. The numerous entrances were definitely not by design. This one seemed like a gouge in the side of the thing, not an actual doorway. Shrike heard Wit walk up beside them.

    “Would you like me to lead the way, hesitant little bird?” Wit grinned. Shrike just snorted and solidly shoved him in, then climbed in after. Wit stood and brushed himself off, raising a displeased eyebrow back at Shrike. 

     “Sorry.” They said. 

    Wit rolled his eyes.

    “If my information is correct, and I'm certain it is, the illusive Ranni should be at this party! You know Ranni, yes? Had an encounter or something?”

    Shrike looked blankly at him.

    “Yes, her. She has very convenient information. I could probably trace her sources myself, instead of interrogating her, but that would be a large waste of time, wouldn't it? Especially when I'll get a chance to ask after her notorious wares as well! Though, of course, you've already done that.”

    Shrike looked blankly at him.

    “There are also a few jousei brews that I have been vying for a very long time. Did you bring your purse? Don't answer that, actually, I think I took the liberty of liberating it from your poor weary paws a few clicks back. You don't mind, of course?”

    …Shrike looked blankly at him.

    “Stars above, you are giving me nothing here. Where's your playful banter? Or terrifying wrath? Do I need to dump some ice on your head?”

   Shrike's blankness broke into a grin, and they laughed into a paw. “Alright, alright- should I let you lead the way? Or do you trust the ‘little bird’ for navigation?” They replied.

    “If you know your way through this maze of a building, by all means!” Wit said, sweeping both his arms towards their right.

    “I do.” Shrike said. They promptly started down the hallway to their left.

    Wit stared after, hesitating.

    “The path less taken, I guess.” He muttered to himself, and trotted after Shrike. “Wait- do you know the way? Shrike? …Shrike.”

    Shrike just kept walking ahead, tail tips twitching in amusement.

~~

    This vault went startlingly deep down. How fun it was going to be to make their way back up! Wit looked forlornly at his calves, sending a silent apology for what he was to make them endure. But- oh, my! Wit was hearing the echoes of what was definitely a party ringing against the metal walls. It was a nice contrast to the constant creaking that permeated the air. That wasn’t foreboding! They were only under, oh, fifty or so feet of metal and dirt and water. Wit glanced at Shrike. Goodness. They seemed to be especially aware of the creaking, their fluffy winged ears twitching at every new note groaning through the dark. 

    “You know, this reminds me of something.” Wit said.

    Shrike tipped their head at him in reply.

    “I once found myself being buried alive by three surly ocean symps… much like yourself!”

    “Mhm.”

    “Of course, it wasn’t quite the same as walking myself down into this big metal coffin. For example, they didn’t bother to put me in a coffin. It was a ropes-and-pre-dug-hole type situation.”

    “Should… should I ask why?” Shrike looked only slightly disturbed.

    “Yes! That’s exactly what you’re supposed to ask. Good job!” Wit grinned at Shrike, and the corner of Shrike's mouth twitched in reply.

     “I had been up to my usual- charming the locals, charming them so much they were left rather upended, really just upending people in general - well. These three symprites were the proud owners of a bar. A lovely bar, really, it had that enchanting scent of sweat and vomit that these upstanding jousei brewers can’t seem to replicate. I was running my usual race, winning as many shells off of the drunken lot that I could.”

    “But, you see, one of the owners - Ruth, if I’m recalling correctly (He was), was an undefeated champion. He saw me betting and winning a few too many times, and just had to uplift his ego on my hard-earned shells.”

    Shrike rolled their eyes and smiled, even if Wit was’t looking. (He wasn’t)

    “And you know what? I took his challenge . I saw that look in his eyes, heard his reputation echo around me, and the challenge drew me in like an overzealous jeweler to a glowing bass.”

    Wit sighed uncharacteristically, looking then over at Shrike.

    “In my haste, I hadn’t thought to think of his ego. It wasn’t unique to him, but neither was the brutality to back it up, unfortunately.”

    Shrike grinned.

     “So why aren’t you 6 feet under right now? Struck by the revelation that you could instead die, say… 60 feet under instead?”

    Wit grinned back.

    “Why, it’s almost as if you know me! Guessed it in one,” He winked.

    Shrike snorted and stepped towards him, giving him a side hug.

    There was a pause as they gave him a sort of questioning look.

    “I’m sure they tripped over themselves without even needing you to direct them. You’re very good at that sort of thing.” and then they were trotting down a set of stairs ahead of Wit. 

    They didn’t seem half as nervous- and Wit had won something better than some betting pile of glittering seashells. He hadn’t tracked the winner of their sort of mental game of tug-a-war in years, but with them he somehow felt like he didn’t need to. 

     Though- Shrike had once again told the end to his story. That did peeve him a bit. They were always guessing the ending.

~~

    Wit had mentioned that jousei brewers couldn’t capture the awful scent of a raunchy bar, but Shrike guessed that this party was getting close. The surrounding area was muggy, the vault was extra muggy, and this layer of it seemed to be mimicking a stars-damned swamp. There were lanterns filled with moonbugs lining the main chamber of the party, casting the room in a pulsing green. A million scaled legs and glittering buggy aramelle wings reflected the light. Shrike knew their eyesight wasn’t on par with other symps, and they glued their eyes to the ground to avoid disorientation. The scents of a dozen different brews layered on top of the general gross party smell- meads and wines and ciders all mixing somewhere in Shrike’s over-sensitive sinuses. And despite it all, Shrike wanted a taste of every single one. Why else would they have come? Wit? Naw, they’d been kicked out of enough parties with him to know they’d only follow him into one with a very good reason to.

    They were going to drink until their hooves fell off.

~~

    Apparently, Shrike had wandered into the crowd immediately as they had entered the main chamber of the party. He hadn't even spotted them moving from the corner of his eye. Sure, their muted coloring made them just about blend in with whatever backdrop they were against, but Wit was a magician. He was supposed to have the ability to spot little tricks like that. Oh well. He had things to do on his own, as well.

    First on his list: scout for that tricky potion merchant.

    Second: scout for something to drink.

~~

    One thing Shrike knew, is that they did not know of a single brewer at this party. Most Jousei were upstanding citzens, well known, some even celebrities. They passed down tradition and kept tight-knit with their families. These brewers… were not like that. Maybe they could’ve passed for it, but Shrike knew better. These were rebels, maybe even outcasts, and they made brews that were almost unholy. There was nothing traditional about this underground brew bash. 

Shrike loved it. They felt a bit fuzzy after their third or fourth drink, but the room wasn’t spinning much more than it usually did, and their hooves felt steady under them. 

    Holy s-stars. Above in the sky.

    There was karaoke, Shrike discovered, as there was an aramelle singing out their heart directly in front of them. A “singing stick” was held in both their paws. All around, people clapped along to the familiar tune. Shrike remembered the last time they had tried out karaoke- a horrible failure of a song, pitied paw claps following their performance. Something other than the alcohol burned in their belly, and they knew they could make up for that performance, replacing the miserable memory with something wonderful. 

    Here. Now. 

    When the aramelle’s voice faded off, and they waved the singing stick around to hand off to the next singer, it was Shrike who walked up smoothly. Shrike felt as if they were possessed by some spirit of glory. There was no drunkenness in their gait. Their winged ears folded behind their head neatly, their bright eyes dazzling out in the open.

    “Could I have the next song?”

~~

Wit waved at a passing symp and ara duo, hopping off of his improvised barrel seat.

"Ho there, fellows! I noticed your unique stench just as you were passing by, and had to ask- What is that? Perfume? Algae?"

The radiant symprite stepped forward as if to retort back, but before she could say a word, her aramelle companion jumped in.

"Hello! My name is Sango! Your name must be- hmm. Baboon, maybe?" She projected up at Wit.

Wit bowed deeply, to her eye-level, before standing tall again.

"So you've heard of me! At your service, San-green. Or, no, did you say gangrene?"

"Oh, shut up. You sound like some traveling dung merchant." The ara's symprite companion growled. She took Sango's paw, and they burrowed themself into the ever-churning crowd, Sango waving back at Wit with a cheeky little smile.