A Night to Forget Pt. 1
Let me start off by telling you who I am. I am Jake Festi, chinchilla from the Low Wastes. And I was about ready to kill myself.
If not get it over with, then at least forget, anyway. You can take a stab in the dark as to what I was doing right about then. Yep, personal belongings left at home, ID at the ready, bottle in hand.
Don't give me that look. I know it sounds a little bad now but it only gets worse. I'm just telling you what happened.
I took a ginger sip of the hard stuff. I don't pay for shots. Hell, what kind of guy with direction does? Nah, I was determined. I stared the bottle down hard after that first taste, thinking about just who I was and what I was doing in a bar.
I was a chinchilla. That's what I was and am. Might not mean all that much to you...but I'll tell you why it should. Down in the Low Wastes, that's what the place is called, they have nothing like me. I was the pure child of two travelers back in the day, hiking down between the two most prominent locales in the region: the Low Wastes and Cliffside, each set upon opposing crags of a desert canyon. They settled briefly in the Wastes, had me--God bless 'em, right?--and then perished from dehydration. It's a harsh place, I can tell you that much, especially if you didn't pack any water.
My parents liked living on the edge, can tell that from what the elders in the Wastes told me.
You never see a chinchilla around these parts, though. Beautiful people, they are; perfect sheen, the ears, the tail, everything really. In fact, they're practically the result of pedigree--you won't find one or two in many places at all. Maybe some mix-breeds, but never the real deal, and you can tell just by looking. I may be a little bit conceited about that, but...we're getting off-topic here.
I hate my life. There, I'll just say it. Less painful to trudge through, right?
Why, though? Why would someone so privileged as I...want to kill myself? Well, believe me, I've tried it before. There's a half-beaten diesel-age little tram that goes between Cliffside and the Low Wastes, expensive as all hell because nobody wants to go to the Wastes except on return trip from Cliffside. Planted myself nice and firm on the tracks--lo and behold, the conductor noticed and came to a squealing halt that broke my eardrums instead of killing me.
It was embarrassing like you would not even believe. And that's just one of my attempts.
Sorry if this is getting a little personal. Just for the rest of it to make sense, you gotta understand. I had no real friends or family to grow up with--yeah, people can get over that. I kinda did. But when you grow up like that in the Low Wastes, only the elders there to tell stories about how irresponsible your parents were before they died, and when you are just as ravishing, unique-looking and bright as a chinchilla is that the natives, the jackrabbits, the fennecs, the goats--they all outcast you for it?
That shit's just not fair. Not fucking fair at all.
I shook my head angrily. "Fuck it, I'm going all in." I brought the bottle up close and practically turned it upside-down, funneling the bitter liquid down my throat. It burned like hell, but that was hardly the worst thing to happen to me. "Can't stand this shit."
"Then why'd you pay for it?" came the voice of the barkeep. He was a goat, and goats usually make good travel guides in the crags between the canyon. Four well-placed steps and they're already at the next section worth telling about. They have good footing.
Oh, and the people of Cliffside are giants.
Maybe sixty feet compared to me if I had to estimate. Did I mention that? Guess it's not news to either of us, really. I like to think of it as evolutionary adaptation for the crags. Heh. I was sitting there, on the bar end, while this goat with foggy glasses loomed over me with that somewhat nervous look on his face. This counter had a smaller one on top of it just for us "natives" both tended to by the same person. Awfully considerate.
People can go back and forth between the Wastes and Cliffside so long as they have the money, but then, who really does? If someone moves to Cliffside, they stay there (economy's not bad either, considering materials are far cheaper for Low Wastes natives). Cliffsiders never come down to the Wastes, either. Not enough room.
Anyway, back to the story at hand, I took a quick break to answer him.
"Not what I meant," I remember managing. Oh, by God the booze was worth the cash. All of it and more. That wasn't the problem.
Then I resumed my voyage into hammering myself senseless. I vaguely recall the goat staring at me pretty dumbfounded. I didn't give a damn at the time, obviously. When I finished, he said, practically in awe, "Jesus Christ...what the hell happened to you?"
Guess it was pretty impressive, huh?
I took a minute, not really thinking about the question, just letting my gut sit. Cliffside was a neat place, probably better than the Wastes, anyway. It had a functional bar and was more than a village, how neat indeed! First time having been in a place like it, really.
And what better place to get stepped on by your everyday giant denizen of Cliffside than in a bar, where even you can't fuck up your own suicide?
"Too much." Oddly witty for my state, but then I probably didn't mean it to be smart at all. Just kinda came out. A very literal answer to his question that I gave absolutely no thought to. Behind me, there was a cloaked figure, but I gave it no mind. Hopefully there weren't any harsh looks beneath that hood, but if there were, I guess I don't really care.
I motioned for another round. This alone wouldn't do. I could see he was reluctant, but hey, the customer is always right.
Looking to my left and through the arch of a door, I could catch a haphazard game of darts being played in another room. There were a couple billiard tables each with their own set of players, those smoking rather than drinking. They had stuff to do, stuff that made pastimes and not offing themselves seem worthwhile for them.
"Well," he stood up and gave me a stern look, "Don't let whatever it is stop you. You've got years ahead of you, I can tell. Seen too many kids your age drink themselves to death."
I held the bottle close now, coddling it like a firstborn. It still had a few drops left. Maybe that much would seal the deal and purge my better senses.
"Won't be the drink..." I muttered, heart heavy, letting the last bit of ambrosia drip onto my tongue.
That was when I tried to stand myself. Not my most artsy move, but it had purpose. I stumbled almost immediately and fell to the ground quite loudly and without any of the grace I was used to, warranting one or two glances from those surrounding me--especially other natives only a couple feet away from me. Not the ground I wanted to be on, either...just the Cliffsider's counter still.
I must have looked like a corruption of the pristine--have you ever seen a silver-coated chinchilla get drunk and pass out?--waving my head around like a white flag, surrendering to the shadows forming at the edges of my vision.
Shit, no! I needed to get to the floor! This was the moment I paid for!
There was a sigh, but that was the extent that my level of cognition could recognize perfectly. "What's your name, and I'll let you pay the tab in the morning."
"I'm Jake..." I heaved slightly, attempting to crawl away, maybe fall off the counter if I was lucky, "Jake Festi, chinchilla from the Low Wastes. Nice to meet you."
However, that wasn't all. I expected to be done right then and there, but I didn't pass out--least, not before a new figure approached. She stood over me, looming, a shadow for a face, then turned toward the counter (or what I assumed must have been the counter). Her stomach held stiff in my way, clearly purposeful in an attempt to stop me. I was practically furious. Then she spoke.
But not to me.
"...Don't worry. I'll take good care of him. He's with me."
That wasn't even remotely true. I'd never met her before.
"What?! N--" And...there went my ability to speak. Let alone protest. Perfect timing.
"Sure, sure. Thanks for picking him up," the goat replied with clear relief.
Though outwardly I was incapable of saying anything in my potential defense, on the inside, I was screaming my guts out. No! You're not gonna take this from me--just fucking step on me, you bitch!
When I noticed this was the shady person that sat behind me earlier, I knew something either amazing or terrible was about to happen. Mary Poppins or seriously next-level kidnapper. Then I was out cold.
****
The worst feeling arose in me when I came to. If you recall, I wasn't in my best state the previous night--not that that says much comparatively--so I had this really awful feeling, like I'd had my destiny stolen from me. Like the experience somehow left me a hollow shell of a person. Oh, and my stomach hurt like a bitch too. Not fun.
However, those were the least of my troubles. A see-through wall surrounded me, and a single test-stomp to the floor told me it was glass. I had been placed in a jar. What the hell happened...
Oh. I remembered.
Looking up as my shoulders and heart slumped, I noticed that my glass cell had holes in the top. Ugh, I can't tell you how degraded I felt--it was like being the bug that some kid catches and promises to love forever, my God. Except...I could tell why I was where I was.
Whoever this person was really didn't want me to go through with suicide.
I curled my tail into the grasp of my hands. It was one of a couple ways I'd learned and grown up with to deal with depression. Now, I'd nearly forgotten about--and if not forgotten then definitely discarded--such methods due to my recent...excursions, but now I was practically hopeless. No way to try again or escape--only to vainly console myself by feeling my own luscious fur.
Overweening, you think? Nah.
Okay. I had some time to recollect myself and I was without any sort of outlet, so I got a chance to look around. It was all a little blurry, but I definitely saw a bed below--queen-size, but clearly only one person had slept on it at a time--with some indistinct art hung up on the walls here and there. It was nice and cozy, like a little girl's bedroom that grew up with the girl, as strange as that might sound.
Shocking me from thought was the sound of wood coarsely rubbing against carpet as the door on the opposite end of the room opened. My tail slipped from my grip and righted itself as I did. The visage of what could only be my captor became my focus as she stepped closer, pawing cautiously and slowly down the padded floor, like she was trying to avoid waking a cobra.
Way too late for that, buddy. And I was just as ready to spit venom.
Her head was about level with me, so I could well deduce I was on a shelf of some kind. An empty, barren one to be sure, though. The giantess was a lop-eared rabbit, brown-furred with pure white accents on the palms and around the eyes. She stepped closer to me and my prison, curiosity prevalent in her gaze, which I can only describe as youthful--older than me for sure, but certainly by no more than three or four years.
I instinctively backed away to the far end of the jar. I remember the muscles in my face being all tense and frowning while my tail swished around frantically, but the rabbit didn't seem to notice such subtle signs of animosity. She cleared her throat intently, then began to make some strange chittering sounds at me. They seemed foreign--not to me, just coming from her--but they had notable purpose; intent in the way her lips moved and her nose twitched.
At first I was baffled, then soon I realized she was trying to communicate. I could hold off on chewing her out for now; she didn't seem to be totally hostile.
You see, though I am a chinchilla, I'm...not totally fluent in their language. Embarrassing? Maybe. Well, not really. I wasn't raised around chinchillas, can't totally expect me to know it by heart. But I could understand some of the words, hiccuped as they were by a rabbit's tongue.
Let's see...
I refrained from answering right away. "Are...how are you?" That's what I thought the first sentence was. 'Course, I knew better than to think that's a perfect translation. It would be broken commonspeak at best. Switch around a couple words, check context, trade some consonants, and it was probably something more like, "Are you okay?"
"I'm...as good as I can be," I said aloud.
Wait, that was not true. She was the woman from last night! This rabbit cockblocked me from death!
"Hey, I remember you! What the fuck was that?!"
You should've seen her face right then. Incredulous and disbelieving, and not just due to the fact that I was talking to her. She looked nearly ready to scold me for my language, but she settled with an expression of surprise, simply putting hands to her thighs with her mouth agape. And what thighs they were...
Now don't think badly of me. She was pretty attractive, I'm not gonna lie. Granted I wasn't the most appreciative of that at the time, but you know.
"You can...talk?" she started, and quite carefully. "Commonspeak? I've never seen chinchillas living in Cliffside like that, so, uh, wow..."
"You never see chinchillas at all," I corrected, straightening my posture and swiping a hand over my hair. I was calmed down for the most part. "And I didn't grow up around them. I still get some of it, though. You gotta work on some of your vowels, by the way. It's mostly the 'a's; I almost thought you were asking how my day went."
"Oh." She seemed quite shocked--at exactly what was anyone's guess. Probably just everything at once. She was practically in awe at me though, which was pretty weird. "I-I guess I'm not used to seeing chinchillas outside of the state menagerie."
My eyes sprung wide. "Hold on--"
She hardly noticed me say anything. "As for last night, I just...knew I couldn't let it happen. Especially not to a chinchilla. In the bar on that day, I saw you smashing yourself really bad. Drink after drink, Chinchy, and then I saw you start crawling away, and I knew what was going through your head already." She shook her head. "Couldn't let it happen."
Uh...Chinchy? Too many new things were breezing through my head at this point.
Wait a second--when the hell did this become casual conversation? No, this was not why I so much as wasted breath on stupid, intervening, butting white-knights like her! If you couldn't tell, I was pretty damn mad, and I was surprised I'd nearly forgotten just the extent of how angry I really was.
"Okay, stop! Stop everything! Who the hell gave you the right? You ruined my death!"
She seemed to mull over that for just a second, eyes glued to mine. "I hope you're not planning on taking that to court, because I can't be tried for saving your life. It's unlawful." Now she crossed her arms, primarily austere. I growled the best my species can do and started banging on the glass like doing so would let me reach through it and knock a few teeth out--and lord knows that's what I wanted and more. "What you tried to do last night was foolish. Foolish and selfish. It's not suicide, it's homicide if a Cliffsider steps on you; someone would eventually get blamed for it. Your lack of consideration could've gotten someone in trouble."
I fell to my knees, realizing my assault on the glass would do me no good. There was no way out of this; I was trapped in the "company" of a giant rabbit and there was literally nothing I could do about it. She wasn't listening, she didn't understand. I didn't even have anything at hand to try ending myself again. Nothing. And that's why I was in here to begin with--so I couldn't repeat last night.
I was just broken.
The rabbit's true motives were abstract at best and most questions I wanted to ask just failed me. Hell, the only reason I wanted to ask any was because I was fucking stuck here for the time.
Apparently having nothing else to say, the rabbit turned away. "Sit tight. I'll be right back, okay Chinchy?"
Goddamn that name was pissing me off. She said it so nonchalantly though, less like a pet name and more like a nickname. Either way it was not welcome. I flared up again and stood straight, one finger outstretched and despair temporarily put to the side.
"Chinchy?! I have a name! I'm Jake Festi, chinchilla from the Low Wastes--and don't you forget that!"
She turned to me one last time and loosed a gentle, warm smile. "I'm Tevassa, Chinchy."
But I didn't have a chance to protest again; she left, leaving the door open this time.
Like I said, this rabbit's motives were cloudy, but I was starting to get some kind of vibe from her. She didn't want me to die, she clearly cared to some degree--but how was it shaped? Why was I here?
Where was I, actually? It might not have been in Cliffside at all...
Whatever would end up happening, I knew I wasn't going to like it. None of it changed the fact that she took me to this place and stuffed me in a jar against my will, which meant she likely wasn't entirely innocent--a probability I was more than willing to latch on to.
I was damn chafed, but there wasn't a single thing I could do about it yet. But we would see...