Free as a Bird [Ulivali]

Ruairi kept nodding as he listened while he sipped his drink. The two of them were both used to the life of travel, indeed. Even if he didn't understand the need or want to stay in one place for too long, many chose to go with a life like that. For some reason. Less of a reason to be on the move… What a strange concept. Well, the cider was all but empty, so he made sure to wave at the barkeep so he wouldn't forget about the other drinks they had ordered!

"Tell me about it," he practically sighed once the topic had turned to his solo career. A gathering of creative, artistic folks was definitely not the easiest thing to handle, if there were more than one with the kind of a personality that wanted to take charge. Independence and freedom. Those were what Ruairi was after. And fame. And money.

But he definitely perked up once the tray filled with a bottle of wine and those mugs of mead came right to them, placed onto the table with a slight clatter.
"Oh!" The Rito exclaimed, his eyes already hungrily – or thirstily – drinking up their bounty, as the barkeep returned to his post behind the counter.
"Well, it all turned out just fine in the end, didn't it! Have to spend money to… Live a life, or whatever they say! Can't just stay holed up somewhere drinking gruel for the rest of eternity when there's all this… This! Here!" He laughed, definitely in good spirits. Probably in more than one way, if this night was going to continue like this. Ruairi was ready to do the serving, though he looked at Ulivali to hear his opinion on their next drink.
"Should we start with mead or wine?"

Both were fine with him. Anything probably would have been fine with him. He reached for the tray to make sure they both got full cups in front of them.
"Oh. Yeah. What's a Fokka?" He did ask a rather strange question all of a sudden. Something that had not come up once this conversation… Yet probably something he should have known.
"I think that's what it says, at least. My ancient Hylian is… Pretty rusty."

It was definitely a sense of nostalgia, Ulivali felt, discussing the way in which they wandered. It was a topic he hadn't really thought much on. If you had asked him when he was younger, he would have said he would live his whole life on Dragon Roost. Probably train to be an attendant to Valoo, or end up working in the family business. Maybe both. It was such a different world it was hard to really wrap his head around.

Ruairi's exclamation made the other Rito lift his head quickly, before relaxing a moment later when he realised that it was their mugs being delivered. He nodded in agreement. "Nothing comes free in life, least of all life itself! Yet to find any way of living that doesn't come knocking at your wallet, no matter how frugal. Gotta live as best you can with what you have."
He paused to think. "I'm thinking mead? Although I'm biased. I do like the floral kinds of drinks."

He wrapped his fingers around the mug and lifted it in a silent toast before taking a drink. With rather poor timing. Ruairi's question immediately caused Ulivali to choke on his drink in an almost comical manner, embarrassingly tasting the mead all the way up to his nares.
"S-sorry, how old did you say you were?" he asked in shock. "Has nobody ever called you a Fokka?"

"Hear hear," Ruairi grinned at the other Rito's thoughts as he made sure to push a mug to Ulivali along the surface of the table. One serving of mead, coming right up indeed. He grabbed one for himself after his newest friend had gotten his, and raised it up in the air with him. …Not that it was the best way to show solidarity to someone who was blind and couldn't see that action, but Ruairi did not seem like the kind of a person who thought that far. After the small toast initiated by Ulivali, he gave it a sip. Sweet, just how he liked it.

At least the other bird's coughing hadn't made him do the same, allowing him to easily finish his mouthful and give Ulivali a look with a tilted head. He didn't think the drink was that strong. In fact, it wasn't really strong at all. That was why they got the wine. The questions that followed just made Ruairi frown, rather confused.
"Well, I'm… 24 winters old by now, I think," he hummed, after a moment of counting. He hadn't really been thinking about that for a while, either. Did it even matter?

"Nope! Well, I don't think so, at least. I can't recall. What, does it mean something? Oh, something good?" The pondering tone of his voice quickly turned into that of curiosity and excitement. He'd only be called good things, after all, and why would someone tattoo something bad to them? It all made sense now. Now he really had to try to remember if anyone had ever paid him such compliments!

It took Ulivali a moment to rein in his spluttering, taking a few measured breaths to get a handle on himself. Putting down his mug, he ran a hand through his crest uncomfortably. The feathers lay flat, taking several inches off his height and giving him a rather cramped and sorrowful countenance.
"Well," he began hesitantly. "Um. It's not... it isn't a good thing, exactly,"

A horde of questions besieged Ulivali's mind, born both of disbelief that Ruairi could have reached 24 years of age without wings and not have ever heard the word, and the reflex to deflect the conversation away from the word, away from his tattoo, away from the entire concept. For Ruairi, the question had been just another part of the joyful tangle of finding another like himself; for Ulivali, this was a deeply personal quandary that he knew he owed an answer about. If Ruairi had not been Rito - had not been, well, technically under the same word - Ulivali would have refused to answer.

He clacked his beak, trying to find the words to summarise generations of cultural discrimination over a mug of mead. His head felt vaguely foggy. Likely both a blessing and a curse that he was not entirely sober for this kind of conversation; Ruairi had unwittingly caught him in a blend of loose-tongued and with slightly impaired judgement that would ease such a tough conversation.
“Definitely not a good thing,” he began. He picked up his mug and took another drink. “Flying… flying is important, to our people. Obviously. It’s probably the most important thin in our culture. You’re supposed to get your wings, you visit Valoo. You… how do you say in Hylian? It’s a coming of age ritual. And if you don’t do it, it’s… considered disrespectful. Really disrespectful.”

He leaned back in his seat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “In the Rito language, fokka is the word for flightless. It’s about the worst thing you can call someone. Means you’re rejecting culture, rejecting your people. Rejecting humanity, just about. It’s a bit different here on the mainland, most Hylian-speakers don’t know what the word translates to. But they do know that Fokka are monsters. You’d think Rito and Fokka were complete opposites. Night and day. Most flightless Rito would get their wings if they had a choice. Life just gets in the way - I’m sure you get that. But there’s not much patience for the flightless.”

Ruairi had lowered his mead to the table, leaning closer as if he really was looking forward to the explanation he was sure he'd get from Ulivali. Even he could probably just feel that stare, waiting with bated breath. But the moment the other Rito said that it was not a good thing, that excitement certainly ended going flat. Ruairi frowned and leaned back in his chair, probably still waiting for explanations, but now not really understanding where they were standing. Why would someone tattoo something bad on themselves? He just didn't get it, but seemed to be willing to give Ulivali the time to actually explain instead of opening his own mouth for once.

And as the explanation was coming, he still didn't really understand it. It clearly was difficult enough for Ulivali to talk about, but Ruairi was an outsider who had not experienced their culture in any shape or form himself. He had not been born on Dragon Roost Island, he had never even visited it. He had never seen Valoo, never gotten his wings – but neither had so many other Rito, including the one he was with right now.

Ruairi gave a small pout as he seemed to be mulling over all the information in silence, the mug of mead remaining untouched. There had never been any kind of separation between the Rito in his mind – and he probably still couldn't try to force a separation like that.
"I don't really get it," he finally started, grabbing the drink to take a sip himself as well before continuing,
"It's not like it's… Permanent, or anything. Not having wings. It's just like, you know. A transitional period. Don't see what's so bad about that. The choice is always there."

Ulivali tilted his hand from side to side. "Well. Yes and no. Sure, you can go get your wings at any stage in your life, but it's meant to be the mark of adulthood. Essentially like your validation as a Rito by Valoo and your grand acceptance as an adult member of society. So if you haven't done it by the time you're, y'know, actually an adult, it's considered to be like rejecting all of Rito culture and society."

He took another drink. "I didn't say I agreed with it. Sometimes as a kid I would see adults without wings arrive on the island to go get their scale. Life had held them up but they had still come to do it. And people on the island would give them sidewards looks, but late is still better than never. But especially here on the mainland, there are a lot of people who do put it off indefinitely, or give up on making it there. If you live as far as Castle Town, that's a really long journey to make. I lived with a group of Fokka for most of my life, I've heard everything from not being able to make it to Dragon Roost because they had kids to think about, I met a guy who only had one arm so he could never fly anyway. But there's also people who just don't think the effort is worth it, and there's people who are so angry at the entire idea of wings being our worth they refuse to do it."

Leaning back in his seat, Ulivali sighed. "I'm stunned you've never heard the word before, if I'm honest. Hylians picked up the word pretty quickly from travelling Rito, and a lot of Fokka were on the losing side of the Imprisoning War. They can be pretty derogatory about it. You know Hylians, though. All on the top of their own personal castles, dominion over the land. Most of them are pretty nice, I've got no real issues, but you can tell they're the race in charge of the land sometimes."

Ruairi just frowned. Could Ulivali practically hear the gears turning inside his head as he tried to wrap his mind around all this new information. None of it really fit his worldview, and it was becoming very difficult to try to make it fit. His finger had taken to circling the rim of the cup, eventually dangerously tilting it from side to side. Had he heard the word before? Had he been called this _Fokka_ before? Maybe? He couldn't remember. He clearly wasn't the kind who would pay much attention to it – perhaps he had corrected them. That he's a Rito. Because he was.

"…Well, that's the first time I'm hearing any of it," the Rito finally huffed. Perhaps the fact that he had not been raised by Rito was starting to become rather apparent… Or perhaps it just started to smell of very overprotective parents. In his case, probably more that of ignorance. The silence went on for a while, as Ruairi continued rolling his mug on the surface of the table.

"I still think it's pretty stupid," he finally concluded the way only he could, and took a long gulp of the mead.

"Stupid is one word for it," Ulivali sighed. He realised that he had been hunching and rolled his shoulders back to stretch them, trying to push the stiffness out. If he was honest, he was starting to feel a little bit floaty, but a little bit wasn't enough to really take the edge off the current topic, and so the Rito had no hesitation about draining the rest of his mead.
"Really, though," he began, seeming to settle somewhat, "life on the mainland must be so different, especially without being among your own kind. I don't begrudge you not knowing! I'm sure there are vast complexities of mainland culture that entirely escape me yet are familiar to you as breathing. Much of what Hylians get up to confuses me, I'll admit,"

He ran his fingers along the mug, feeling the texture and imperfection in the material as he considered. "I'm sure you've probably got a lot of stories you could tell about the stupid things mainlanders get up to,"

Well, at least they agreed on that! Ruairi's mug hit the table a bit harder than intended. He still didn't really get it – how could he, never having been there to understand anything behind it, but a change of subject to something he did know was a welcome distraction. The Rito leaned back in his chair, pondering about the culture he had grown with and was comfortable with. This time it was Ulivali who found it different enough to not always understand it. But could Ruairi really look at it from the eyes of an outsider?

Well, he could, as he finished his mead.
"Well, you know, I told you how I was raised in a caravan, right? Traveling troupes are usually a welcome sight as distraction, but once the lights go off, the rumors start, right? All the kids were always told to stay away so we didn't like, snatch 'em away or something! Ridiculous, isn't it?" Ruairi laughed as he thought back on it, shaking his head,
"And I guess even the mainland is different in places. Like, it's different here on this northern side, compared to the southern side, even before all the… Stuff," he continued, but not for too long, and not in great details. He reached for the bottle of wine to start twisting the cap off.

"And don't even let me get started on those weird folks who think they own all the land! Like, yeah, sure, maybe they own the land, but they're not even using it! Why are they so upset about me parking my wagon there for the night? Sheesh, I say. I'm popping the cork," the Rito went on and on, before giving a very important warning to someone who couldn't see… If the creaking and squeaking sounds weren't enough of a tell already. There was a slight pop.
"Drink it empty and I'll fill the cup!"

"No way," Ulivali was caught between disbelief and amusement. "I'd never have guessed that people would be so two-faced about performers! How ridiculous. The things people will invent anxieties about, I swear,"
A burst of laughter from another table nearby briefly startled Ulivali, and it took him a moment to re-focus on his companion's words. "I guess it tracks that there's that cultural divide across the land. Compared to Dragon Roost this place is absolutely huge, the land goes so far. It makes sense that there are so many races scattered across Hyrule, I guess there's more than enough room for everyone. Well, there would be, but I've yet to see the day there isn't some dispute over territory."

Ruairi's next comment was perfectly on point. "Exactly! People are so obsessed with owning land. You don't own land. You can own the house you put on it, sure. And there's probably a courtesy distance around said house so you don't have someone taking a nap outside your front window. But Hylians especially are so weird about it!"
He made an appreciative sound at Ruairi's warning. How thoughtful, to casually warn Ulivali about the imminent noise. Most people didn't think to do that.
"Cheers," he said happily after the distinctive sound of the wine bottle opening. He tipped back the dregs of his last drink and pushed the mug forward.

"I remember one time I was travelling with my friend Bakk. The Fokka commune I lived in usually made a living by the fruits of our various labours and talents, and we'd come across this fence. There was wild wool from the guy's sheep caught all along it, he'd used really rough wood and his sheep must have been rubbing against it al lot, so Bakk and I stopped to gather it because I could use it to make some small things ahead of the winter. But the guy saw us and lost his mind about it, shouting about his property. It's not even like he was using it!" Ulivali laughed at the memory. "Don't think I've ever run so fast in my life, honestly. Bakk just about dragged me behind him to get out of there before the guy caught up!"

With the wine bottle now open and Ulivali's cup empty, Ruairi could fill it with the new drink. It seemed to be a deep, dark color, with a fruity scent that hit his nose the moment it filled his new friend's cup. He wasted no time in pouring himself some, eagerly looking down at it as he swirled the wine in his cup.
"Let's see if this really is good!" The Rito grinned and raised the cup in the air in a rather useless gesture considering his drinking buddy couldn't even see it without him saying anything about it, but that fact seemed to be lost on him. Bringing the cup to his lips, he took a sip. There definitely was some sweetness to it, the taste of a mixture of fruits he couldn't put his finger on… But it also was much stronger than what they had been drinking this far.

He clearly didn't mind, though.

Ruairi kept taking more sips as he listened. They certainly both had colorful lives full of strange encounters.
"Feh! Next time you should just stand there and let them have it! They think they're so in the right until someone challenges that worldview. Then they realize how absurd they are," the Rito kept nodding, most likely fully believing and having made use of his own advice many times in the past. For him, it clearly must have gone well, but… Ruairi definitely had a certain assertive aura about him, one that did not back down easily. Would it be that easy for everyone else, or would they suffer the beating of a lifetime…?

The newly reassuring weight of a full cup in his hand, Ulivali appreciatively nodded before taking a drink. The strength of it startled him, and he gave a small laugh.
"I think this one will be the last for me, or I might not be able to tell which way is up for long enough to make it home!" Despite his comment, though, he immediately sipped at it again.
"Exactly!" he gestured somewhat wildly to emphasise his point. "People will be so convinced of their own infallible belief that you've got to stick your neck out to have a hope of making your way."

Pleasantly fuzzy, Ulivali yawned. "It sounds like you're far more assertive in these kinds of situations than I, though. I often prefer to work around stubborn people than go through them. Seems a far more productive use of time and energy! I'd wager that cultivating an air of bullheadedness would certainly clear the way in many situations, though. Makes sure people know you're not to be messed with!"

"Can't stop now, we've barely even started!" Ruairi sounded a bit too excited as he blocked the other Rito from even suggesting that he wouldn't keep drinking. Clearly he wasn't very concerned about his ability to find his way back home – whether that meant that he was certain he could do it or he didn't care if he couldn't do it was up to interpretation. Neither of them were showing any signs of stopping, and surely the cups would be filled again and again as long as there still remained more wine in the bottle…

"Mhh, Ruairi had listened to Ulivali's point of view, and seemed to currently be mulling it over as he kept drinking or swirling the wine in his cup. It was far from how he preferred to handle things himself, clearly.
"You shouldn't just let people walk all over you! Who else is going to speak up for you but yourself? If you start waiting for someone who would, you'll have to wait forever," the Rito nodded to himself like he was speaking some kind of great truths,
"And it's true! You just have to look like you're not someone to be messed with, and no one even tries. Saves all the effort."

Ulivali made a sound suspiciously close to a giggle. "I guess I can't let you finish that whole bottle by yourself, after all! Gotta make sure I get my share!" He breathed in the fruity scent of the wine before drinking again, absently tapping his talons against the floor. Someone somewhere was singing, clearly tipsy, and while the voice was a little pitchy the Rito found himself tapping along to the rhythm anyways.

"Gotta keep my shoulders back and all that," he nodded. "Although I will say, puffing up my chest is all well and good when I'm actually squaring up several inches to the right of someone. It's not quite as intimidating when I can't actually stare them down! But I've definitely had my fair share of opportunities for stubbornness, I've gotta start capitalising on those more. I spend a-" he paused, clearly having lost his train of thought. It took him a moment to find it again, "I spend a bit much time making sure I'm nice and palatable so people don't get fussy about the flightless blind bird, there's space for a bit more backbone!"

"Damn right," Ruairi grinned – he shouldn't be allowed to drink the whole bottle on his own, but he would absolutely try if there was no other option! Ulivali just had to focus on the drinking, and he'd be doing the filling. As good of a time as any for him to empty out his cup and pour himself another, too! He looked down into the newly filled cup, enjoying the fact that it was once again full. He couldn't help but give it a swirl, watching as the liquid came dangerously close to the edges.

But the Rito couldn't keep it like that forever, so he continued taking sips as he listened to his new friend and his dilemmas.
"I didn't think about that," he admitted – not being able to give someone a scary glare did sound like it would make it a bit more difficult. Not being able to even face the right direction might give it all a completely different meaning, and not in a good way.
"Pssh, they're ones to be talking about flightless birds. I can bet you not a single one person in this room can fly," Ruairi gave a dismissive wave. It did include them as well, but so what? At least, one day, they could fly, unlike all the Hylians around them.
"Oh, oh. I bet you just need to practice! You know what's even scarier than someone giving you the death glare? Someone who can't even see looking like they're absolutely certain they can beat your ass! If you look like that, no way anyone will want to mess with you."

Tipping the base of the cup to the sky and his head back, Ulivali quickly finished the rest of his cup. He realised a moment after initiating the action that he had perhaps been a bit ambitious - there was much more wine left than he had thought, and he swallowed quickly to avoid spilling it. No sooner had the empty cup clacked against the table that the Rito startled himself with a quiet hiccup, stomach protesting at the abrupt flood of alcohol.

He couldn't help but bark out a laugh at Ruairi's comment. "You've got me there! Double standards, doesn't make that much of a difference in the end. I reckon we win though, I can't imagine having naked skin like that. Or clunky flat feet. Even down a toe I reckon I've got Hylians beat for toe dexterity!"

Ulivali briefly considered trying to pour himself another cup, but the dizziness creeping up on him convinced him otherwise. Normally he'd have no trouble, just using his other hand to tell when the cup was nearly full, but he had a sneaking suspicion that if he tried right now he'd tip the sweet wine all over the table. And then nobody would be happy.
"Can I get another, thanks?"

The Rito considered. "Honestly there's no hope of getting my eyes lined up properly, but I reckon if I just square my beak at someone's face that should be enough, right?" He demonstrated, abruptly moving his head and scowling in Ruairi's direction.

"It does make finding shoes difficult, though," Ruairi mused wistfully to the other Rito pointing out the differences in anatomy when it came to their bird-like features and the other races. Though surely both of them preferred what they had, their feet definitely were an issue when it came to footwear – though perhaps that was a strange issue for someone like Ulivali who walked around barefoot, and for a good reason! Those were definitely some long, bird-like toes. But Ruairi liked his shoes and wouldn't want to walk around without any! Even if it meant he had to get everything custom made just for his feet.

Snapping out of it, the Rito grinned as he reached for the bottle now that Ulivali had requested for his cup to be refilled.
"You don't have to even say!"
The wine would flow until the bottle was empty. And once it was… Perhaps they could see if they needed another one.

Ruairi poured the wine, happy that the bottle was still feeling heavy in his hands. The bottle came down with a slight clonk, and the Rito leaned back in his chair as he took in Ulivali's scowling performance.
"Ooh, I could see it. You do have a pretty strong-looking, sharp beak, unlike me. Bring that closer and it could cause damage – or at least make everyone think it would!"

"Thanks," Ulivali grinned. "I've definitely bitten my fair share of foes in the past, I think people must forget that you don't need big razor teeth to give them some problems. Doesn't even need to be a big beak," the Rito paused, a vivid childhood memory sparking. "When I was a kid one of my friends had caught a parrot that he was trying to keep as a pet. Nobody warned me the bloody things bite, I think there's still a scar on that hand from it,"

He sighed wistfully. "Obviously I can't really know for sure what your specific beak is like, but even if people don't necessarily get the gist you could probably still give some wicked pecks with it. Like you said, it comes down to the attitude! I'll have to practice that face. Is it still called giving someone the stink-eye when there's not really any eye-ing involved?"

Nodding his thanks and reaching out for his cup, Ulivali's thoughts spluttered to a halt.
"Wait a moment," he said, belatedly processing the comment about shoes. "Are you... wearing actual shoes?"
It was clear on his face how alien he found the thought; he'd never met a bird who'd wear actual shoes! Many of the Fokka he'd known had worn wraps or bird-shoes that were closer to tough leather toe-socks than they were Hylian's footwear. Ulivali couldn't even picture how a Rito could cram their foot into closed-toe shoes, even if they were custom shaped - how in Valoo's name would one balance??

Ruairi let out a laugh – he definitely had had a lot less biting done by himself and to him than this other Rito, it seemed like. What a wild-sounding life! He took another swig from his drink.
"Hah! Well, you're free to touch it all you want," he laughed – and it was a bit difficult to say if this beak-touching idea was coming because he was still sober or had a bit too much to drink already. He snapped his fingers with an idea.
"Just- just say you're giving them the beak!"

The Rito seemed to be all grins and laughter as he kept drinking, while Ulivali had caught up with a shocking fact that brought the atmosphere to a halt. Not that Ruairi seemed to quite notice it, just waving his hand in a dismissive way like it was something completely normal and natural – not that his companion could really see that.
"Well, of course! Plenty of costumes require some kind of footwear," he nodded his sagely advice, thinking back to those many, many shows he was a part of. Being the only one going barefoot would have been… Strange!
"Besides, much easier to take off shoes than wash them every time I go back into my wagon, right?"

Ulivali raised an eyebrow. "Actually, this might be the one situation where touching someone's face actually is helpful. Sometimes people tell me to touch their face like that'll magically make me know what they look like,"
He barked out a laugh at the name. "Giving them the beak! Gotta get brand recognition on that name!"

The explanation about shoes, however, left him notably more confused.
"Okay, explain to me what you mean by shoes here. Are you wearing actual shoes, like a Hylian would wear? Doesn't that hurt? Even if you've got tiny sparrow feet, that's got to be so uncomfortable." He paused, manners slowly catching up to him like a rather winded pursuer. "I suppose aesthetic is certainly something that demands commitment for many, and I can't say I've never worn something uncomfortable for the bit. Although honestly, are you stomping through mud? A good shuffle on a proper rough doormat usually gets me clean enough to walk indoors."

He stopped to take another drink, the taste starting to fall by the wayside as imbibing became more of a casual obligation than sensory enjoyment. "Actually, I might take you up on that touch, if you're okay with that? Now that you've said it I'm very curious about your beak. It's always fascinated me about how beak shape can vary so wildly between clans."