Post by mildofthewild on Dec 27, 2019 13:46:20 GMT -5
What do you think is so special out there that you can't get here?! You're a disgrace to fishmen!
If mom and dad could see you now, obsessed over these little toy boats!
If you wanna be with those humans so bad, why don't you go and join them?
DON'T COME BACK TO FISHMAN ISLAND. WE'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DO.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The pounding of Orous' wooden shack doors pulls him away from memories of the past and into the world of consciousness, the young fishman sitting up before slamming his head into the shelf above his bed. After 6 years of the same routine, one would think Orous would just take the shelf down...
"Oro! It's almost 5 a.m., the guests are going to be here any minute! We gotta get the bar ready! Oro!"
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the pain from his head, Orous fumbles around aimlessly for his clothes, tripping over stray beer bottles before stumbling across his outfit.
"Oro, are you awake!? Oro!"
"I'm comin', I'm comin! Jeeze, just...just go ahead, I'll catch up!" Orous shouts back, growling as he pulls the bright pink dress shirt over his frame. He can hear a huff of disapproval and the steady retreat of someone leaving the small shack he calls home. With a sigh, he manages to complete his ensemble, eyes trailing across the room before landing on the crown jewel of his outfit: the worn bandanna hanging from his bed's rafters. He gazes across its surface, looking at the crudely drawn ships and small smiley faces that the children of Notice have graced with their art skills. He reaches down to the floor, swinging a bottle around before draining the last few drops of alcohol into his jagged maw. He tosses the bottle away, sighing as he ties the bandanna around his mouth, completely hiding it from the world once more.
"Well, here we go again..."
Orous stumbles across the island, leaving his hut on the edge of the forest surrounding Notice Island and heading into town. 5:30 a.m. Raining. He can't remember a day it wasn't raining, but that doesn't bother him so much. The droplets feel good against his skin; felt like home. He arrives at the bar that greets guests entering Notice Town, entering the swinging door and sitting at the bartop. He slowly starts cutting lime wedges, all the while his co-worker stares at the hunched over fishman, slightly worried. A sigh passes between them both, then a grunt, until finally Orous can't deal with the pregnant pause sitting between them.
"What is it, Daimo," Orous says, not taking his eyes away from the bartop. He starts running a damp and slightly worn rag across its top, clearing off any stains from the previous day.
Daimo, a slightly pudgy man with a thick and bristling mustache, shrugs as he leans against the bar top, washing some of the mugs from last night. "Just curious what's eatin' ya. You get a rough crowd last night?"
Orous chuckles lightly as he starts fixing the stools around the establishment. A few were busted, and he'd have to try and fix them up later during his break. "Nobody's rough, not by the our standards anyway. No, just...been thinking about home a lot."
"Home?" Daimo says, curious. He never hears much of Orous' past, least of all his home.
"Yeah, home. Just...well, was thinking more about some people recently from home. Just got me a little down."
"Ain't you always down?"
"Ain't you always slackin' off? Here, I'll wash those, just get started on hauling the barrels in, the shipment should be here any minute. After that, non-stop drinkers." Orous growls at Daimo, the pudgy man rolling his eyes and heading out. Orous sits alone for a moment at one of the stools, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, deep in thought over the last words his brother ever said to him. "Probably glad I'm wipin' down counters for humans, ain't ya," he whispers to himself before he hears the door open. He takes a look at the clock on the wall, sighing as he stands up. Customers. Today was set to be another long day as guests arrive at Notice Island.
If mom and dad could see you now, obsessed over these little toy boats!
If you wanna be with those humans so bad, why don't you go and join them?
DON'T COME BACK TO FISHMAN ISLAND. WE'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DO.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The pounding of Orous' wooden shack doors pulls him away from memories of the past and into the world of consciousness, the young fishman sitting up before slamming his head into the shelf above his bed. After 6 years of the same routine, one would think Orous would just take the shelf down...
"Oro! It's almost 5 a.m., the guests are going to be here any minute! We gotta get the bar ready! Oro!"
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the pain from his head, Orous fumbles around aimlessly for his clothes, tripping over stray beer bottles before stumbling across his outfit.
"Oro, are you awake!? Oro!"
"I'm comin', I'm comin! Jeeze, just...just go ahead, I'll catch up!" Orous shouts back, growling as he pulls the bright pink dress shirt over his frame. He can hear a huff of disapproval and the steady retreat of someone leaving the small shack he calls home. With a sigh, he manages to complete his ensemble, eyes trailing across the room before landing on the crown jewel of his outfit: the worn bandanna hanging from his bed's rafters. He gazes across its surface, looking at the crudely drawn ships and small smiley faces that the children of Notice have graced with their art skills. He reaches down to the floor, swinging a bottle around before draining the last few drops of alcohol into his jagged maw. He tosses the bottle away, sighing as he ties the bandanna around his mouth, completely hiding it from the world once more.
"Well, here we go again..."
Orous stumbles across the island, leaving his hut on the edge of the forest surrounding Notice Island and heading into town. 5:30 a.m. Raining. He can't remember a day it wasn't raining, but that doesn't bother him so much. The droplets feel good against his skin; felt like home. He arrives at the bar that greets guests entering Notice Town, entering the swinging door and sitting at the bartop. He slowly starts cutting lime wedges, all the while his co-worker stares at the hunched over fishman, slightly worried. A sigh passes between them both, then a grunt, until finally Orous can't deal with the pregnant pause sitting between them.
"What is it, Daimo," Orous says, not taking his eyes away from the bartop. He starts running a damp and slightly worn rag across its top, clearing off any stains from the previous day.
Daimo, a slightly pudgy man with a thick and bristling mustache, shrugs as he leans against the bar top, washing some of the mugs from last night. "Just curious what's eatin' ya. You get a rough crowd last night?"
Orous chuckles lightly as he starts fixing the stools around the establishment. A few were busted, and he'd have to try and fix them up later during his break. "Nobody's rough, not by the our standards anyway. No, just...been thinking about home a lot."
"Home?" Daimo says, curious. He never hears much of Orous' past, least of all his home.
"Yeah, home. Just...well, was thinking more about some people recently from home. Just got me a little down."
"Ain't you always down?"
"Ain't you always slackin' off? Here, I'll wash those, just get started on hauling the barrels in, the shipment should be here any minute. After that, non-stop drinkers." Orous growls at Daimo, the pudgy man rolling his eyes and heading out. Orous sits alone for a moment at one of the stools, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, deep in thought over the last words his brother ever said to him. "Probably glad I'm wipin' down counters for humans, ain't ya," he whispers to himself before he hears the door open. He takes a look at the clock on the wall, sighing as he stands up. Customers. Today was set to be another long day as guests arrive at Notice Island.