#and yes i really did turn final fynta into a miqo

[cinlat]

Miqo Brew

Fynta had stayed awake way too late and drank way too much for the amount of light spilling through her curtains. She slapped at the cloth, tangling the fabric around her fingers until it was impossible to deny that the sun had risen and so must she. Stretching, Fynta shook curtain free of her hand, then sighed at the pleasant collection of pops that traveled the length of her spine.

The bed was soft and smelled of whatever Keshal and Verin’s home normally smelled like. Bacon and coffee, Fynta decided as she buried her face in the plush pillow. She’d arrived late to their annual family dinner, meaning Fynta crashed at her brother’s house and ate his wife’s cooking for a few days in the name of sibling bonding. Keshal barely tolerated it, so Fynta made a habit of dragging Verin away for a few days to give the woman some time to decompress. However, he’d introduced his new concoction of alcohol and fruit, so she’d stayed and drank. It was only polite.

Fynta was deciding whether she wanted to stay in bed and enjoy not being responsible for anything or sneaking into the kitchen before Keshal claimed her domain. The shrill scream shattering Fynta’s peaceful contemplation made the choice for her, as Fynta was out of bed and dashing down the hall before checking to see if she’d gone to bed with clothes on. 

While used to her brother’s tumultuous relationship with his wife, Keshal’s fury brought Fynta to a skidding halt. The woman’s dark eye burned with wrath and her lips curled away from a pair of perfectly formed fangs. Fynta dumbly tried to make sense of the scene while Keshal flapped thin arms at her husband.

“What did you do?” The woman shrieked. Keshal’s braids quivered like writhing snakes, wild with their master’s rage.

Verin coward against the far wall. All Fynta could see of her brother was the wild tuft of brown hair and the placating hands lifted towards his wife. Fynta’s mind had barely grasped their odd shape when something lashed behind Keshal with the speed of a whip. Fynta must have made a noise, because the woman turned on her. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Fynta took a step back and mimicked her brother’s posture. She tried to figure out what this was while babbling that she had nothing to do with whatever had happened. The whip snapped again, and Fynta leaned around her sister-in-law. “You’ve got a tail.”

“I know I’ve got a bloody tail,” Keshal shouted, eyes squeezed shut in anger. “I’m a bloody cat.”

Spinning back to her husband, who had taken that moment to put more space between him and the angry female who now boasted an impressive set of claws, she jabbed one at him. “What in the seven hells did you do?”

“I didn’t think it would work,” Verin protested, keeping his hands raised. “The kobold said that it was called Fantasia potion, that it would give us a new outlook on life. You know, spice things up.” He glanced down at the clawed fingers of his own hands, then stuffed them behind his back. Fynta wondered if he’d noticed the ears yet.

“Spice things—" Keshal sputtered, folded her arms, raised one as if to slap Verin, then balled her hands into fists at her. “You bloody well fix this, Verin Wolfe. Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure that you feel the full wrath of my new outlook on life.”

Keshal spun on heal and shoved past Fynta as she stormed from the kitchen. The two, tufted ears now positioned on the top of Verin’s head wilted as she went. Fynta was still staring at them when her brother cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry.”

For the first time, Fynta looked down at her own body and wasn’t surprised to find that her nails were longer. Slowly, she reached up to run her fingers through her hair. As expected, they snagged in the same spot where her brother’s ears twitched uneasily. Fynta groaned. “Verin…”

“I can fix this,” Verin assured, patted the air between them. “I just need to find the kobold that sold it to me.”

“A traveling kobold caravan?” Fynta started to fold her arms, then thought better of it. She had no idea what these new additions to her anatomy would do to her own flesh. She was about to follow up the question that had been forming when something heavy thumped against her leg. Just jumped, spinning in a circle to see the thing that had touched her.

Verin chuckled, and Fynta stopped to glare at the infuriating man. The thing bumped her again, and Fynta snatched it before she could think better of the action. A strange tingling that bordered on pain shot through Fynta’s spine and into her belly. She yelped and let go, only realizing that the irritant was a dark blonde and exceedingly fluffy tail. She should have expected it, but the sight of the thrashing appendage stunned her all the same.

Heavy footsteps warned Fynta to press herself against the wall a beat before Keshal returned, arms full of an old, leather duffle. The pack hit Verin with enough force to make him stagger back. Meanwhile, Keshal pointed between him and Fynta. “Don’t come back until you’ve got the cure.” With that, she stomped out again, leaving Verin and Fynta to fend for themselves.

Ten minutes later, with Fynta packed and Verin looking dejectedly at the heavy wooden door that had slammed in his face, they started towards the center of town.

Fynta squinted into the harsh, Thanalan sun, then at her brother. “Guess we’re getting breakfast on the road.”

Verin glared at Fynta, though the downward pitch of his ears and dragging tail—also fluffy in comparison to Keshal’s leonine shape--betrayed his real emotions. Fynta made a mental note to learn how to control that, she had perfected the art of lying as a hyur, but these new features would make that more difficult.

As if to remind her of the task, the warm weight of Fynta’s tail smacked the back of her knee. Maybe if she pouted as much as her brother, it would stop attacking her. Growing tired of the quiet, Fynta nudge her brother’s shoulder with the tip of one very pointed finger. He hissed, which Fynta decided not to comment on, batted her away. “So, how did this happen?” Verin bared his teeth, but that had never affected Fynta. She persisted. “I mean actually—literally—how did this all get started?”

“It’s a long story,” the man turned miqo’te muttered. Verin was a full head shorter now, but still had a couple of inches on Fynta. His gate had shifted from the swagger of a resistance man to the stalking motion of a predator.

Fynta made a show of looking around them if only to needle her brother more. “The caravan doesn’t appear to be here.”

“I know,” Verin snarled, temper edging into his voice.

Fynta tried again. “Do you know where they were headed?”

“No.” Verin bit off the word like he wished it was Fynta’s throat. She grinned at her seething brother.

“I guess that means we’ve got time.” Verin opened his mouth to snap back, but Fynta lifted her shoulders to jiggle the bag resting on them. “Indulge the little sister who snuck snacks and water out before your wife exiled us.”

Verin’s ears went from flat to straight forward. “You’ve got food?” Fynta widened her grin and watched her brother’s last defense collapse. “Okay fine.”

As it happened, Verin wasn’t as big of an idiot as Fynta suspected. The dose had been meant for her, which she’d have found hilarious, but he’d forgotten which drink was hers and had poured the fantasia potion into them all. He’d intended to collect his and Keshal’s before the drinking began but had gotten distracted—he wouldn’t say by what, though the tilt of his lips told Fynta all she needed to know—and had simply forgotten. So, he was still a proper idiot.

As the pair walked through the oasis town, Fynta watched the various vendors setting out their wares for the day. The aptly named Forgotten Springs was secluded enough require imports where the town’s income was derived from exporting the hides and meats from the local drake population.

Retiring to Forgotten Springs had been Keshal’s idea. They had all grown up in the Empire’s shadow, fighting to break free from tyranny. Whereas Verin and Fynta’s parents almost had escaped to Little Ala Mhigo, Keshal’s had been trapped in the city proper. Verin had been one of the resistance’s contacts with the underground. From what Fynta understood, they’d hated each other, until they didn’t. No one seemed to know when that line had been crossed.

Finally, Verin sighed. “She’ll forgive me, right?”

“Depends on if we find that cure.” Fynta stopped at the gate that would eventually lead to Ul’dah if they walked long enough. She paid the chocobo keeper for Cormac, patted the bird’s neck.

When Verin stared back the way they’d come, Fynta kicked his skin. She met his curse with a broad grin and gestured to the desert. “So, which way?”

I’m tagging @dingoat​ @tishinada​ @dimigex​ and @kunoichi-ume​ since you ladies knew this was coming. XD