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(Fuck it i just came back after a bunch of writer's block accept only 2K words please)

Part 9 of La Tramuntana, continuing from a game of cards revealing Jinner having done illegal things

“But the south has different laws, right?”, i asked.

“Yeah”, said Onista. “… to an extent, and one that doesn't cover here.”

“Bribes?"

“C'mon, we're not loan sharks”, joked Anista.

“Wait, can't i have myself protected for not knowing?", i asked.

“Maybe”, said Onista. “but they pretend to ‘see through lies’”

“So they're trying to get me in jail?”, i said.

“It's the least costly for them, saves on patrol and scaring-them-death-costs”, said Onista. “Just poison your food and say ‘oh shit, an arsenic leak again ????’ and they're done."

“Shut up, Onista”, said Elle. “Stop scaring the guy.”

She turned to look at me with a semi-compassionate smile. “Don't listen to her, their prisons only have the occasional human rights violation.”

She chuckled and placed lika-mas, abstract, number 5, bringing us back to the card game. “Half-opposite… so that's gonna be the time i saw a verb table for northern spanish and it didn't even mention ir or ser or estar being as normal in standard Spanish."

“-1 for being boring”, said Anista.

“+1 for language”, i said.

Anista draw a physical 5. “So, how about the time i burnt away a contract binding me to some shitty job?”

“So the smoke makes it abstract?”, i asked.

“Of course it does”, said Elle.

I nodded. Anista frowned. “Wait, who's winning?”

“Nobody, we're just socialising”, explained Elle.

“That's boring”, replied Anista.

Elle sighed. “I literally just told you that.”

Anista shrugged. Onista drew a physical 1. “Let's go for megaphysical.”

“This country”, i mused. “Biggest thing in this realm.”

Elle chuckled. “Fine, let's go with that.”

I looked over to the door, which had been knocked on, followed by Anista rushing to check it. The person i saw standing there was the well-dressed guy.

I waved hi to him. He chuckled, seeing me, and walked to the table

“So, about the case… there might be a jury call”, he opened with.

I frowned. “What for?”

“The former manager escaped and was caught again”, he replied.

“And… can't they just put him in jail?”

“Well, there's good money in winning as i sue him”, he stated.

“…so you're causing the case?”, asked Onista.

“Of damn course i am, you know how lawyers are with their money :p”, he replied.

“What's he being sued for?”, asked Elle.

“More arson and causing bar fights. That was a vintage cup on an expensive loan", he said with an almost avaricious smile. “Oh, we're going to get his ass out of a stable fucking life.”

Onista and Anista cheered. “Add us to the jury!”, exclaimed Anisita.

“I'll see what we can do”, said the lawyer.

“Why don't you join us, playing this game?", i asked.

“I'm bored of it, that's why”, said Anista. “Don't join.”

Elle frowned. “So, maybe we go out tonight, instead, show him our culture?”

“What to?”, asked Anista.

“There's a musical on tonight, North end. It's controversial”, explained Elle.

“How come?”, asked Onista.

“There's a lot of stereotyping, but it's only really about the human world y'all probably left years ago”, said Elle. “Let's go, it's relatively cheap this season.”

So, w'all left.

It was down the street for us, into this nafarra-fada place. I didn't know what the words meant, but i think i remembered fada from some word in a house listing; “5 fadas”, maybe.

So, we went to the ticket office. The female werewolf (wifwolf?) at the desk who looked like she'd look nice playing tennis glanced at us. She quickly judged our faces, Onita's tinged with confusion.

“Estas aquí por el historia del fepentrio?”, she asked. Here for north story?

“Sí”, i said. “Cuentas?” Yes. How much?

“¤5”, she replied. “por cada person” ¤5 for each person

I mentally recounted our party; I, the two comanagers, Elle, and the lawyer. ¤25 to hand out.

I took out the notes, passed them over, received the paper tickets, distributed them, snuck into the theater. It wasn't that full, so i found my favourite row, two from the stage void for the best view. An announcement where i only captured the Northern Spanish words for “5” and “minutes” was broadcast.

The stage wasn't visible, hidden behind a metal sheet with three lines; “pon-jarra tutella pon-tejoto”. I recognized jarra from some word for heat and pon as one of the degree-classifiers, so probably something like “big heat” and tejoto from passing textiles shops.

The next lines were “telón cortafuegos” and “fire safety curtain” respectively. Did it contain asbestos? Maybe it would.

I turned to Elle. “So, what happens?”

“Some humans end up in the werewolf world and have to contend with the new culture… as seen from a werewolvian perspective”, she said. “It's good for understanding culture :p.”

I grimaced slightly. My home country imported foreign cultures and adapted them in alien ways. We took the art of loose herbs in a teapot and shoved the loose leaves into cheap paper bags. Maybe not my country but us in general. Here there were what were effectively alien creatures. How would they process human culture?

Onista chuckled. “Reminds me, i've watched something similar… you're in for a treat, Jinner”

That didn't sound particularly good, words hiding what could just as well be a “this will hurt you”.

I looked back at the lawyer. I could see his eyes jittering about, in thought, smirking. “What do you think?”, i asked.

He jumped a little, found his words, said “oh, this is going to be fucking amazing.”

Well, i was getting nowhere. I decided to lose myself in thought. About the new accomodation….

I considered floorplans and contractors, construction techniques and shit, kept throwing them against each other. That was until the lights suddenly dimmed, a visual kind of “shhh”.

After a few increasingly eager seconds, the fire safety curtain started moving up. I glanced behind me. Half-house.

I gasped seeing what were there; uncanny-like humans in werewolf size. Elle glanced at me and chuckled. I realised my face had turned to a shocked expression, almost hyperbolic.

I let the muscles go as red took over instead.

What the fuck…? Is this like Ancient Greece with women being banned from stage so theater was just a drag show…?

And when they started speaking, it almost made me snigger…; the naturally deep voices of the werewolves bypassed using some high tone and a fair dollop of vocal twang.

They were speaking Northern Spanish. I understood nothing save for the various things they added, like men and pon. The movements and set seemed to correspond to earth; some typical modern flat, cross-sectioned for our pleasure, showing “humans” doing things.

One was on some computer, the screen straight from the 90s, barely functional. Some “human” with some bricky thing it was staring at walked across the street, monolouging and acting out its texting conversation. From behind, some car hit it and it stared inside, at the werewolves.

That's how the story progressed, i guess.

When they dived into lock-arm song i heard the audience behind us singing along. Elle was opening her mouth and moving it so she was probably singing. I couldn't hear her as the bass was shaking my bones, maybe even the whole room.

Maybe it was a classic song in werewolvian culture. It certainly sounded familiar, so i tried searching internally for the song. It was difficult to hear where it came from but i put it down to riding in someone's cab down in south city, listening to the radio and its needless patriotism.

But this was a different variant, live singing and more standard MIDI soundfont instruments.

They finished the song and went about the next part of the story. Something about arriving and noticing how different it all was and coming to some new job.

What even was the purpose of this show? It's unsettling and not very nice but it is for both sides…?

We get to see the most horrific uncanney valley skinsuits and the werewolves a genuine criticisim of their world…?

Gosh, is this what art's turned to here? A mockery, a disturbing of who were already happily enough comfortable?

Fuck this, sitting here isn't comfortable. I want to do something, go against what's happening.

I consider leaving. It's not a good idea. Too disruptive. I consider doing the whistle. Too disruptive. Nothing too disruptive, so i wonder what to do.

I'll just sit here and cope, then. Cope with the horrors in some local obsuficated conlang.

If i don't look at the actors, it turns out to be ok. I can hear the words and break them down, find the morphemes i learnt and apply them, from the all-too-common men- prefix to the much rarer -erra affix i heard, meaning “tool”.

It was nicer to look at the scenery, the style used to construct it, the wood beams holding up what was effectively drywall, the tacky 80s wallpaper, everything.

I kind of zoned out and let the rest of the musical happen. A bunch of running around and being shot happened, followed by crying and shots into the audience with rubber bulllets. Very soft foamy ones, ones which hit me in the nose and cheek. I screamed.

And that was the end. The characters all did their little run onto the stage and showing off their presence and having the big finale before the big curtain dropped and it was truly over.

“How was it?", asked Elle. She let out a noise that wasn't unlike a very schwa-y “uhhh” sound as she saw my green face.

“I hated it”, i said. “Let's do it again!”

I could tell Onista was rolling her eyes to the left of me.

“You can't hate something and want it again”, she said, possibly joking."

I chuckled. “Have you even heard of the horror genre?”

“But at least you like the terror!”

I began moving my feet towards the exits. I could smell the stage smoke. It wasn't like what i was used to; it felt more genuine, had woody notes.

It brought me back to days spent in that theme park with that restaurant and wood stove.

“So, how do they make fake smoke here?”, i asked, curious.

“They capture wood smoke and release it, turn off the fire detectors”, explained Elle. “Curtains made of asbestos but it doesn't hurt anyone because they're coated in smoke.”

Is that how it works…? Probably isn't.

“Honest?”, i asked.

“No, it's a trade secret, but the fire curtain is made with asbestos and wood smoke is used, that's the most we know.”

“Seems dangerous”, i mused.

“Meh, it's a safe world”, Elle dismissed. “You won't die in a theater fire”

“Fine”, i said.

We went outside, into the darkish left by the flickering of the lights. It was well past midnight by now. The streets were still as lively as ever but in the biting cold i kept close to the walls, keeping myself away from attention and the empty streets at the same time.

The first snow began falling, slowly drifting across the air in its light and carefree way.

It was becoming a winter, at last. I looked down, onto the flickering yellow ground. White clumps were beggining to form.

The sound was less intense, i noted, with the snow absorbing just a little.

I heard a scream and shout, in the familiar language. It was the Mulumu at it again. I crossed the street to avoid the source of the sound, followed by the others. Well, the others plus another. A very tall but shadowy another.

“We're being followed”, i mumbled with intent to communicate. Elle nodded, pulled a bit closer. The other's didn't quite. Maybe we'd be mugged.

It was tense, to say the least, taking step after step, crunching the quiet snow, hearing the excess crunch of the excess person.

Elle whispered in my ear. Something about turning around and facing him. I mumbled a quiet “maybe”.

But we quickened our pace, trying to force some distance. Our street was two turns away, some few hundred metres. We'd be fine, without question, if we got there, into the Pikatuf brothel.

So we walked, i quickening my pace yet more. We're going to the brothel, whether the thuggy thing behind us likes it or not.

After several decks of steps, we reached the brothel without incident. I chuckled a little, especially realising how unaware my peers were when they judgingly gazed at me.

“There was a thug following us”, i was compelled to explain.

Onita sighed. “i was at the back… you could have told us!”

“No”, i said. “They'd have done something if they knew we knew.”

“And fuck you, you gays walk too quick”, she said. “I could barely keep us.”

“Just us keeping warm”, Elle defended. “Nothing suspicous.”

“You could've'd killed us all”, said Anista. “Damn you!”

I shrugged. “I've got some planning to do :)”, i said, semi-awkwardly. I excused myself to go upstairs.

The lawyer decided to take this as an excuse to leave. He said a quick thanks and went off onto the street. Maybe he'd know what to do. Maybe he was concealing a knife.

So. there i was in the dusty office again. As always, it was a suprisingly spacious

I spent an hour or so writing down numbers and things and plans. I felt a little anxiety thinking about what might occur if i did it wrong but i pushed out the anxiety. I didn't want to spend time doing it.

I got bored, suprisingly, so i came back to the brothel. As soon as i saw what'd happened, i screamed.

Furniture was on fire and edmill were running to the most firesafe places they knew; the bathrooms and outside street.

The street, it turns out, where Anista was being dragged out and interrogated.

I sighed. Were fire extinguishers in buildings part of the law here?

Stay tuned for part 10

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Some notes:

• The stage show here is inspired by that day i went to some magic show and the magician was just spitting Catalan and i understood barely anything :))) i should probably go learn Catalan instead of writing novels but meh i'm getting better at Spanish. It was interesting because there was Spanish used but it was only for the soundbytes showing internet culture (as in TikToks) or for silly characters slipping into uneducated lines like “abracadojoder” ("abracada-FUCK") and stuff.

• I'm personally finding it hilarious that Spanish is being mocked because it's so available; everyone speaks it (maybe even me depending on your definition) and you're not harming any minorities by mocking it.

• Maybe it's bad that my GCSE drama skills have found the most use in gay werewolf stories but whatever it's nice.

• “decks” comes from the SI prefix deco- which i decided to modify. Welcome to werewolvian English!

• Sure, dozen's more natural but it's off by two and not metric.

• I wonder what trope “i leave and when i come back things are on fire” is.