Tyrian had found a brewer's paradise. Hidden in a tangle of of fruiting vines lay a crumbled workshop. The weight of the plants seemed to have been its downfall as it appeared decades worth of growth blanketed its roof. There was so much of it that Tyrian had almost missed that there was a shed under all that vine. With the roof caved in like an old soda can, Tyrian had been hesitant to go inside but with just one peek he knew it was worth the risk. From what he could see, the walls were lined with shelves and arranged around worktables in the center of the room. The shelves on one side of the building appeared to have come down with the roof and there was glass and debris all over the place, but the other walls still stood and on their shelves, shrouded in dust and wrapped in vine, were rows and rows of bottles full of promise. With a thoughtful frown Tyrian stood back and looked the doorway over. The whole thing was a shaky mess. Getting in there and not getting smushed was going to be tricky. ""

"What are you doing?" Fir felt like she asked that question a lot to strangers.  She wondered if it was actually an okay thing to do, wandering up to someone and immediately prodding into what could very well be their personal business.  It was usually so hard not to though.  Take this wolf for example, he was standing outside of some run-down shack looking visibly frustrated.  The reasonings for that were limitless without asking!  Maybe this was a tourist destination that the male had traveled far to see and now that he was here, well, it was actually pretty disappointing to behold.  Maybe he lost his home and a buddy of his told him about a vacant shack that he could potentially live in, but upon arrival he realized that the shack was too far gone.  Or maybe he thought he left something here the night before but it was gone now.  Endless.  Possibilities.

She closed the distance and stood next to the male, waiting patiently for him to spill the beans without much further thought on how this could possibly be inappropriate.

”Speech”  ’Thought’

Fennish Translation:  N/A

I’m going down singing unholy hymns.

"God-" Tyrian made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and sidestepped like a harried cat as the girl's voice came out of nowhere. "-damn." He turned, paw to chest as though keeping his heart from leaping from it, and sized up the speaker. She was a young girl of middling height and pale coloring, and he had no good excuse for missing her approach. That's just what he got for not paying attention. "You just about scared the shit outta me." He gave an abrupt shake of his head and shoulders as though to rid himself of the heebie jeebies and then fixed the girl with an amused look. Tyrian wasn't upset at being startled. He took most things in stride and was quick to find the humor in things so naturally he couldn't help but find his own reaction a little entertaining. "Oh, I'm just trying to decide if I can poke around in there without the roof falling on my head." ""

Fir grinned at the strangers reaction.  It hadn't been her intention to scare the man, but she couldn't say it wasn't amusing that it had happened.  "Whoopsie" she responded as an attempt at some sort of apology.

"Hmmm... In there?  Why?"  So it probably wasn't a tourist destination after all, but her other two trains of thought were still on the table.  The fae took a few steps closer to the shabby shack and squinted her eyes.  She could see an array of different barrels and bottles inside.  Is that what the man was after?  Retrieving them did look to be tricky business, but maybe Yolwan wan could do it?  He was pretty small, after all, even despite all of his pudge.

”Speech”  ’Thought’

Fennish Translation:  N/A

I’m going down singing unholy hymns.

Tyrian shot a glance in the girl's direction before stepping towards one of the windows and peering inside. "Well, see those bottles and things over there?" He gestured towards a crumbled, dirt laden shelf heavy with bottles. Some, the ones that had struck the ground when it collapsed, were obviously broken, but others looked promisingly intact. "I think that's beer." He swung his attention the other way and motioned towards a wall of what looked like equipment. "And I think that over there is the stuff to make it." Now, Tyrian had never brewed beer. He didn't even know if he could with the right equipment. Or even if this was the right equipment. But that didn't mean it wasn't worth trying to salvage. He could attempt to make beer himself or entrust it to someone who already did. ""

Oh, alcohol.  The bottles were filled with alcohol.  That made sense.  Fir wasn't much of a drinker, but she also wasn't born yesterday.  Not too long ago, sure, but not yesterday.  She knew that anything that could get you drunk was somewhat treasured by a huge chunk of different living beings, a few of which she knew personally.  It made sense that this man would be no different.  It was a little disappointing though that he wasn't looking to live here.  Fir had gotten a little excited at the idea of helping him spruce the place up or whatever.

"Ha ire kane, fan fan?" she looked down to her platypus companion, who offered nothing in return but a blank stare back at her.  "Yolwan Wan thinks he can get the bottles." she looked again to the stranger.  "Dunno 'bout the equipment though...."  Sure, she wasn't an avid drinker.  But if the platypus could pull this off then it certainly wouldn't hurt keeping a bottle or two around the house for company, or a particularly rough day, or for decoration or something.  But the equipment... "I'm a lil' smaller than you... maybe I could..... but maybe not...."

”Speech”  ’Thought’

Fennish Translation:  You can get, or not?

I’m going down singing unholy hymns.

For a second as he stared into the shed Tyrian thought the girl's seemingly nonsensical words were directed at him. He blinked and turned to face her only to have his gaze drawn down to the creature with her. Realization cleared his expression for only a second as one part of his confusion was corrected: she wasn't talking to him. That clarity soon caved as it occurred to him that he still didn't fully understand. The platypus didn't even answer? Tyrian frowned. Whatever, if it could get the bottles he wasn't going to sweat the details. He shrugged amiably. "How about we just start with the bottles and go from there." Tyrian leaned into the shack and gave the bottles a hard look. Maybe...maybe they would just start with one or two and see how the little guy fared. He waved a paw at the decaying mess. "How about he tries one or two of the ones on the ground first? We have a bit of a jenga situation brewing in there; wouldn't hurt to start off easy." "I'll make it worth your while, of course." There were questions to be asked about giving a kid alcohol, but he was probably about her age when he started drinking and he'd turned out fine, right? It was fine. Besides, if she pulled this off she'd practically deserve a bottle or two. It would be a shame of him to deprive her off a hard earned prize. ""

The algae-stained fae shrugged as her company spoke. "Aye-aye, captain".  It didn't make much difference to her what they went for first, she was just along for the ride.  The male looked like he knew a thing or two, been around the block once or twice, or whatever other old-timey string of words you can think of for 'this guy looks like he's done shit like this before'.  The yearling trusted his judgment.

"Yolwan wan, kane 'nghavah fankane, lehal fan wan." Fir spoke again to her chunky friend, prodding his side with her paw.  The creature did not move an inch, let alone do anything that would cause one to believe he understood a single word that had just come from the young girl's mouth.  With a heavy sigh, Fir picked him up by the scruff of his neck and gently tossed him a few inches inside of the collapsing shed, to which the platypus finally scuttered in further toward the bottles.  "Sorry old man, sometimes he needs extra encouragement."  she offered an awkward smile and another shrug before returning to observing the fat little water animal.  

”Speech”  ’Thought’

Fennish Translation:  Swamp lard, get ground bottles, bring to mama.

I’m going down singing unholy hymns.