Thousands of years ago a war broke out on a distant island, splitting its occupants into factions. Alifero, Cornucopia, Querencia and Aranea. The tension between them that has been unyielding for centuries only grows when their precious water starts...
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"Down the hatch!" Sneeg grins wickedly as I down another shot. The tequila made my mouth warm with its awful taste. I don't even know how to describe the foulness of the drink. Sneeg lets out a loud cheer and leaps onto my shoulder.
"I'm amazed you haven't fallen over yet, four shots usually get to people," he leans his elbow against my cheek as he talks. I shrugged and guessed it must be the extra body mass from my wings. The bigger I am, the harder it is to get drunk. Though I will admit that I'm starting to sway slightly.
"Remind me how you got out of this torture?" I say stacking the shot glasses.
"Because they don't make doll-sized shot glasses cheap enough for the Pube," I roll my eyes knowing full well that a smaller-than-average thimble would do just fine.
The Pube was in full swing as the clock struck the twenty-first hour. I had said hello to Scott and Jack, but they were preoccupied with a feline called James, a tubby brown tabby with a sweet tooth for beer. He had a kind face, but he was too drunk for me to actually get to know him. Sneeg and I left them to do whatever they were doing and stuck to the bar where Wilbur introduced us to his boss.
A Bunny with long pink hair that he kept in a braid and fell the length of his back who had ears to match. I didn't know much about Bunnies, so I said my hellos as politely as I could. He said his name was Technoblade and that somehow he already knew about my wild drinking habits from yesterday. I had a feeling Wilbur had dobbed on me, and my suspicions were only confirmed once the two of them came for the shot glasses like Aranean gulls descending on potato chips.
"No more shots you two," Wilbur said sternly handing the drinks to Technoblade.
"Oh come on Wil," Sneeg whined and hopped from my shoulder to the bar. "At least keep serving me!" But Wilbur had already turned to his next order.
I was chuckling at Sneeg when a whistle on my left snapped me back. Beau shot me a smirk and slid a freshly poured beer across the bar. I sent her a smile and took a sip.
"You're surprisingly sober," she said taking the seat next to me.
"Well, I've only had four shots."
She raised her eyebrow but decided to dismiss it. "Didn't you get here hours ago?"
"I don't feel like dealing with another hangover."
"Fair enough," I say as Beau takes a sip of her own drink. In the short silence, I took a moment to look her over. The goggles on her head must be a favourite accessory of hers, I knew Avians were fond of that sort of junk. Tommy wore a pair too, I had noticed, along with his leather bomber jacket covered in fabric patches that one would expect to see on a boy scout's uniform. Although his were old and faded, I could see flags, symbols and pictures of things that must mean something to him.
