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haliteatiger · 2 years

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'The Night Market' Fanfiction - "Donkeys"

Made some very minor adjustments to this since posting it to the discord, but just a short fanfiction I wrote for the interactive fiction novel, The Night Market by Zinnia Demitasse. It's a WIP project at the moment, but already feels pretty complete considering all she's posted so far. The very rich and detailed world certainly captured my imagination, so it seemed inevitable that I would eventually be writing out my headcanons in the form of blurbs and snippets. The following is a scene I wrote as kind of response to a prompt Zennia received. Which you can read here. It's my version of the preceding events with my Main Character, Farvel (pronounced "Faa-vell". With her nickname being "Faa".) and the canon character, Milo.

“Supplies for supplies!” I declared, referring to the supplies Hazel had sent Milo and I out to collect from different corners of the Market. I frowned a bit looking over the list. “Uh, I can’t read her writing here, can you?”

I handed the note to him as I tugged on the strap across my chest, a hefty bag of herbs and trinkets Hazel was, for one reason or another, unable to make or cultivate herself, and needed too few of to bother ordering in bulk. “T… Teledrian Moss,” read Milo, furrowing his brow. “Fuck, that’s right back where we were!”

I made an exasperated sound, taking the paper back from him, and he shifted his grip on his backpack, which was twice the weight of mine. The trip had taken longer than anticipated. To me, Hazel had made it sound like a simple enough task, and thought it was a good idea to get me used to travelling through the Night Market. Considering how moody I’d been as of late, I assumed Milo had also volunteered because he was a masochist, even if he made it sound as though the sole reason he was tagging along was to keep me company and prevent me from getting taken advantage of by some of the more ambitious vendors. I was sure my company had been difficult to endure, but I figured that if it truly was a problem, of all of those I had befriended in the Night Market, Milo would be the one most likely to shrug off any notion of pretension enough to tell me. Nonetheless, I was grateful for the company, especially when the “few” items I had been tasked with collecting turned into an adventure in locating them, and the realization of their volume and their requested number began to weigh on me in the form of the large messenger bag Hazel had provided me with.

I stopped in my tracks after letting out another sigh, Milo pausing a few steps later to look back at me.

“If we’re going back, I think I’ll need a break. What about you?”

“I was just about to suggest that,” he said, with a smirk. “C’mon. I know a place.”

“You always know a place,” I laughed, an eye roll inherent in the tone of my voice, following him down an alley narrow enough to force us to walk single file. The closeness of the walls made me nervous, the light of the lanterns suspended high above the surrounded streets was timid here, casting the space in a dull, bluish, twilight that glinted off the slick walls further up. The smell of something acrid and cloying settled in over that of petrichor, growing stronger as we ventured onward. “You probably know a place that knows a place for places.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, airily, and I could see his back straighten, sandy curls tossing back along with his voice as it bounced off the bricks pressing in on either side of our shoulders. “There’s a place for everything.”

“Would that be in the Place District?” I asked, sounding far more vapid than I truly was, as I stretched out my leg, lifting my skirt to make a broad step over a pile of refuse, a feat which barely required Milo to lift his heels.

I was pleased with the snort that drew from him. “If it is, I would know it!”

We emerged on the other side, dusting my hands and frowning slightly at how the damp gunk only seemed to spread like melted butter over my palms rather than disappear. I settled for wiping them on my skirt. Looking up, I realized what I’d been smelling through the alley wasn’t the refuse, but a massive open-air warehouse full of stabled farm animals. The sheer number made me realize why I’d first started noticing the stench a few blocks over.

Milo paused a moment to rest, turning around and leaning back on the low wall separating the pins from the path that outlined the parameter, that almost perpetual, self-satisfied smile across his face as he leaned his head back and raked golden eyes over me.

Feeling suddenly exposed with that look, I looked from him to the grey and brown animals passively staring back at us from their stalls.

“Charming,” I said, with a slight laugh. “Stands to reason you’d prefer the company of other jackasses.”

Milo grimaced, hand to chest as if I’d struck him. “Fuck, darlin’. What did I ever do to you?”

“Look. I saw an opportunity and I took it,” I giggled, matching his resulting grin. “Seriously, though, what is the Market’s fascination with donkeys of all animals?... Wait, how do I even know what a donkey is i-”

“Probably best not to think too hard on that right now, Faa,” he cautioned, and threw his legs over the wall. Standing up on the other side, he turned and offered his hand. “This is just a shortcut. I just needed a moment to rest my feet. A few hours of straight walking will do that to you… You comin’?”

I was hesitating, wondering if I really needed his help to clamour over the wall that only came up to just below my sternum. He looked on with a dark, subtly raised eyebrow, before I finally relented. Taking his hand, and placing one foot on the wall, I pulled myself up and over it.

There was a brief moment that had no point in existing where we stood, hand-in-hand, his squeezing mine even as my grip loosened in expectation to be let go. He’d turned away by the time I felt brave enough to look up at him, the heat having risen from under my collar while also feeling stupid because of it.

“This is just where they keep the ones for the fairs and stuff,” he explained, moving on ahead, patting one on the muzzle curious enough to stick it out towards him as he passed. His hands returned to his pockets.

“Goodness, their stalls are filthy… and awfully small,” I remarked, in concern, pausing a moment to pick up a handful of hay from a bale placed between two stables and fed it to the friendly one that Milo had pet. I smiled as the animal wiggled its warm, velvety muzzle gently into my palm, which I spread flat like a plate, wary of its strong teeth mistaking my finger for a strand of grass. “Poor things probably need more than just hay to eat. And look, they don’t even have any water.”

“I’ll see if the keepers are hiring,” he teased, pausing to turn around and flashing that crooked smile of his. He shrugged. “Since you seem so keen on doing a better job and all. I’m sure they’d love to hear all about it.”

I let out a short, dismissive laugh, more like a cough, while petting the donkey’s nose. It snorted and chewed noisily. “Would be easier just to set them all free, wouldn’t it? Then they could just wander around and eat and drink all they want. And then we could call it the Donkey District.”

“Oh, well, now that does have a nice ring to it,” he said, in such a way that strongly recommended I look directly at him to gauge his intent. I instantly regretted having said anything when he turned and began walking again.

“Oh, fucking no you don’t, you son of a bitch!” I swore, and moved quickly after him.

He gave me a wide-eyed incredulous look, pulling his chin into his neck slightly as I appeared next to him. “That’s a filthy mouth you have, Faa. I had no idea such a sweet thing like you could have such a colourful vocabulary… It’s kind of hot, I’ll be honest.”

His insistent flirting having long since lost its effect on me, I scowled. “I’m going to guess by that look in your eye and the purpose in your stride, that you’re going to be taking my stupid comment a lot more seriously than I had intended.”

“No,” he said, flatly, dropping his bag by a door to what appeared to be a small office with large, bay windows, and rifling through his pockets. “Not seriously at all, darlin’. Never that seriously. ‘Seriously’ isn’t fun.”

He pulled out the unlit cigarette from behind his ear and placed it between his lips. I grabbed his wrist as he knelt and readied a lock pick.

“No, but I think getting arrested would be pretty serious, don’t you?” I snapped, knowing full well what the answer would be. Warm brown eyes met my cold lavender ones.

He scoffed around his cigarette and plucked it away long enough to respond; “Considering how often it’s happened, Faa? Not very.” He fluttered his lashes sarcastically over a tense grin.

I let go and sighed.

He got back to work. “I mean, you said so yourself, I prefer the company of jackasses, so I’m just trying to stay consistent, you know? At the very least, consider a gesture of… revenge, or something. Irony. That’s the word!”

The lock clicked, and the door popped open. Milo stood up, removing the cigarette from his lips, and looked at me with a shrug of his shoulders and slight tick of his head. “Well, you’re still here, so I guess we’re in this together now, huh?”

I glared at him.

He kicked the door open, biting his lower lip as he continued to challenge me with his gaze. “You started it, darlin’. And you should really finish what you started. You do that a lot, you know? Bad habit.”

After a moment of searching each other’s faces, tension left his shoulders in the form of a relenting sigh, and his gaze ran off after something somewhere behind me. “Alright. I’m not gonna force you. But you’ll be missing out.”

“On what exactly?” I asked, after him, as he stepped into the booth.

“My family reunion,” he stated, grinning sharply, and started pressing buttons.

There was a loud buzzer that echoed throughout the cavernous warehouse, and a row of stable doors swung open, one by one. Milo cackled.

“Ugh! Fuck it,” I said, stepping forward and ran my hand down several more buttons. Abrasive alarms sounded, overlapping each other. The noise itself slicing under my skin, making my heart beat faster at the knowledge we were doing something forbidden. A series of clunking sounds indicated more doors were opening.

Milo whooped beside me. “That’s the spirit, darlin’! I knew you had it in you!”

“Well, like an idiot I stayed and tried to stop you, and they’re gonna arrest me anyway so might as well indulge,” I barked, angrily, over the noise, despite the excitement of the moment causing laughter to bubble up from deep within me. And I hated that it felt like he’d won, even as my giggling became more sincere, anxiety unravelling as acceptance settled in.

Most of the donkeys seemed to hesitate at first, unsure of the change in routine, until a few braver ones stepped out into the aisle, followed by a few more. Soon, donkeys were running everywhere, startled by the chaos they caused themselves and thus searching for an exit.

Worried about them panicking and crushing one another, I quickly scanned the control panel until finding a series of levers marked “Bay Doors”.

I grabbed them and started pulling, but the size of the handles suggested they were meant for someone much bigger. Milo helped until finally all the bay doors were opened, and donkeys braying and snorting and stomping in triumph poured onto the streets like inmates in a free-for-all prison break.

“C’mon!” exclaimed Milo, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the booth, snatching up his bag as we booked it back towards the alleyway through which we’d entered, narrowly dodging a few stragglers on the way.

The amount of donkeys now wandering the district, ironically, slowed us down. And every one we had to manuver around, every bystander we had to push past, was one more second off of our escape. I followed Milo through a series of alleyways and streets, unsure if he knew entirely where he was going, until finally I rounded a corner and slammed into something solid, knocking me back onto the cobblestones with a grunt.

Wincing, and wondering why Milo had led me into a wall, I looked up to see him out of breath, but insisting on laughing madly as if he’d lost his mind, his exuberance making the officer trying to handcuff him frown in annoyance.

“Miss Farvel…” said a deep voice, that was very nearly a sneer. My gaze slowly and hesitantly lifted upwards until it met with silver eyes regarding me with vague disgust, and I knew that this was who I had collided with just a moment before.

I could think of nothing else to do but smile awkwardly and give a slight, involuntary shrug that drew my shoulders up to my ears and kept them there. “Oh. Um. Hi. Gabriel.”

#the night market #zennia demitasse #fanfiction #milo next #haligren's writing

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