“And what?” Kesi said.
“Well, there is the Therianthropy panel. It’s for people who…who believe their souls are animal souls.”
“Isn’t that everyone here?” Dazi asked.
“Not necessarily. Some people have animal characters that they dress up as because they like their fursona more than their human self. Some are just here because they like TV shows with animals who act like people, such as My Little Pony or Loony Tunes, and want to geek out with fellow fans. Therians are closer to identifying as trans-species, the way some people are transgender because they believe their true self doesn’t match their biology.”
Which one are you? Dazi found himself wondering. Kuhma saw Mateo as a jaguar who could be human. Dazi thought of him more like the Mukua’poan, humans who could be animals. However, since Mateo was born with the ability to change his form, there was no way to tell what shape his soul took, or which body it preferred.
“Have you ever been to one of these panels?” Kesi asked.
“Once, my second year here. They’re very nice people, but…it is odd, I will admit. A rare few of them go through body modifications to look more like their animal, tattooed fur patterns or surgically pointed ears, that sort of thing, but most of them simply show up in costume and won’t break character for anything. It all seemed extreme to me, and I felt guilty because I could identify with having a jaguar’s soul, but I didn’t have to be stuck as a human all the time. I didn’t go to the one last year, and I wasn’t planning on attending this one.”
“What were you going to do instead?”
“I really wanted to attend this animation class that starts in the slot before that, but I understand if you’re not interested.”
“I’ll go,” Dazi said.
Kuhma muttered, “I’m not surprised…” under his breath in Shoshoni. Louder in English he added, “Maybe we should check out this Therianthropy panel while you do that. We won’t participate much, just sit back and listen, make sure no one is being too extreme.”
“I’d still rather stick with Mateo,” Dazi said. “That panel does sound too weird for me. Plus, I have always been curious about how animation works. This way I can finally answer some of my questions.”
“So we’re splitting into the usual groups, then?” Kesi asked, giving Dazi a sly smile.
At this point, Dazi didn’t care if his friends teased him for spending time with an Outsider. For all he knew, this was the only time he would ever get with Mateo, and he wasn’t about to waste it. “We can at that point. What is there between the parade and those panels?”
Mateo shrugged. “Not much you would be interested in, I don’t think. Meet up for fans of Disney characters, a couple of poetry classes and readings, a bunch of gaming events including another round of Are You a Changeling? and a four-hour Magic: The Gathering tournament. After those panels it’s the Saturday night dance—looks like this one is a fursuit-friendly disco—followed by karaoke and the, uh, mature art and fiction panels.”
“And tomorrow?” Kuhma asked.
“Well, there is a meet-and-greet for feline furries, if you wanted to go, Dazi.”
Kuhma shot Dazi a look. “Er, we’ll see,” Dazi said, bunching his shoulders. He stabbed at his hash browns, trying to get a stubborn piece of onion on his fork. “What else is there?”
“Not a whole lot. Since tomorrow is the last day, things wind down after the dance competition finals at two, and there isn’t really anything that talks about the furry lifestyle unless you want to learn how to play musical instruments while you’re wearing a fursuit. Otherwise there’s the other half of the animation panel, a few more writing panels, the art auction, couple gaming events, and the closing ceremonies. There’s a final dance after that, but it’s at a different location.”
“We’ll most likely leave before that,” Kuhma said. His lips curved in a subtle smile. “You should come with us, Mateo.”
Dazi’s fork screeched across his plate. His heart leapt to his throat. What are you doing? I was going to talk to him about this! He hadn’t figured out what he was going to say, but he had thought he would have another day to think about it. In the few seconds between Kuhma’s question and Mateo’s answer, Dazi’s mind raced, anticipating what Mateo might say and how best to convince him to come along. Worse still, they were in public, so Dazi didn’t feel comfortable talking about the real reason Mateo needed to visit their tribe in case someone else was listening.
Mateo swallowed a large chunk of omelette. “I was going to ask, actually, but I figured Outsiders weren’t allowed. I’d love to meet the rest of your tribe.”
“You would be allowed,” Dazi said quickly. He didn’t want Kuhma messing this up any further. “I’ve told you before, you’re practically one of us. A-And with what your grandfather can do, our shamans will…will definitely want to meet you, too.”
Mateo chuckled. “I don’t know if I could teach them anything. It would be like a duck teaching a fish how to swim, or maybe the other way around. My powers are innate, I was born with them and my grandfather taught me how to hone them. Your knowledge is generational, but no less in-depth than my own.”
“Well, you’ve certainly had a lot to teach us,” said Dazi. “You can tell the others yourself why we can—” he looked around then lowered his voice, “—why we can trust the fake-skins.”
“If it’ll put their minds at ease, I’ll do it.”
Dazi was surprised at how simple that was. The complicated part would be explaining the real reason the shamans needed to meet him.
Kuhma muttered to himself in Shoshoni, “And they’ll determine whether we can trust you.”
Kesi elbowed him. “Elks don’t start fights,” she scolded him, also avoiding English.
“No, we end them.” Kuhma’s attitude was becoming worse than Tommo’s. Tommo had the excuse of being young and brash. Dazi didn’t know why Kuhma was so determined not to like Mateo.
Maybe whatever jaguar pheromones are appealing to me are repulsive to Kuhma. It was plausible, but then again, Kesi and Kuhma hadn’t spent time with Mateo like he had. He wanted them to stick together as much as possible for the rest of the weekend. If they came to see Mateo as a friend instead of an Outsider, the way Dazi had, they would be more likely to vouch for him to the shamans.
“What did he say?” Mateo whispered to Dazi.
“Nothing,” Dazi responded, perhaps too quickly.
Mateo frowned. “Every time you say that, I believe you a little less.”
Dazi winced. He was supposed to be earning Mateo’s trust, not giving him further reason to be wary of him. Eventually he would have to tell Mateo everything, but now was not that time. A quick lie to diffuse this situation, and we’ll talk later. “Kuhma…thinks the fake-skins are too weird to trust. Even if they don’t know about us, they’re still…unworthy of respect.” Dazi shuddered to think what Mateo would say if he knew those were Dazi’s thoughts, not Kuhma’s.
The furries had been nice and all that, but too many would take the Mukua’poans’ power if they thought they could. Besides, if they didn’t know about the Mukua’poan, and yet they considered themselves quasi-animals, they were probably delusional, and therefore dangerous, to a certain extent. Dazi had grown up around humans with feral mannerisms, but he knew how normal people behaved from what he saw on TV and from the tourists that visited their reservation. These people were not normal, and there was no telling how deep that went.
Mateo took a deep breath and scowled. “Okay,” he said, addressing the whole table. “I am officially adding the art show and the dealers’ hall to our list of stops. Time for you to see a different side of the furry fandom.”
“There’s another side?” Kesi asked incredulously. She furrowed her brow. “Oh, no. This doesn’t have anything to do with those panels that happen at night, does it?”
“No, all the art on display is completely safe-for-work. You’ll see when we get there.” Mateo resumed eating his breakfast
with fervor. Dazi’s stomach was still too upset to eat much, but considering how expensive food was at the convention center, he forced himself to finish so he wouldn’t be as hungry later. The burrito was tasty, though half the sauces dripped onto his plate.
“You gonna use that?” Mateo asked.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
“Cool.” Mateo speared a chunk of omelette onto his fork and dipped it in the sauce. He did it so casually, as though he and Dazi had been friends a lot longer than two days. Dazi felt at ease around him as well, or he would if he wasn’t worried the shamans would cut their friendship short.
Just tell him. Just tell him that there’s a chance he could lose his memories, that he would forget I ever existed, that he’ll have to go back to being alone…Dazi sipped some water, but it did nothing to clear the lump in his throat. There’s no way they would let him walk away consequence-free, not after everything I told him. I’ll definitely pay for my actions when I get back. I can’t tell Mateo that. I don’t want him to worry about me. It was my decision to tell him, and if they exile me, then, well…
As promised, Mateo paid their bill. Even Kuhma gave him curt thanks for that. They joined the slow trickle of furries walking down towards the convention center. It was a warm day, though overcast. Dazi didn’t know how people managed to walk around in full fursuits without getting too hot. He had never even seen one take their head off to drink water. Then again, he hadn’t been paying them too much attention. He had been more interested in Mateo than the fake-skins. He resolved to be more observant that day, even if it would distract him from coming up with a way to save Mateo’s memories of him.
“How long is the parade?” Dazi asked.
“About fifteen minutes, give or take. Depends on how many people participate.”
Dazi nodded. “We should definitely watch some of it.”
Kesi gave him an odd look. “Are you developing a fetish?” she asked in Shoshoni.
Noting the annoyance on Mateo’s face, Dazi replied in English. “I want to see the different kinds of people who come here. Some of these costumes look…interesting.”
Mateo smiled. “Oh, believe me, there are some incredible fursuiters out there. You’ll see.”
* * * *
Chapter 10
Their first stop when they arrived at the convention center was the dealers’ hall. “I know you probably won’t need them later, but if you want, we could find you better costume pieces,” Mateo said. “Especially for you, Dazi. Then people will stop mistaking you for a canid.”
Mateo led them further into the booths than they had ventured before. There were dozens if not over a hundred tables set up, selling things that varied from T-shirts to collars to comic books. Kesi, who was a fairly skilled woodcarver herself, stopped at a table to admire a collection of hand-carved figurines. Many of them were characters from cartoons or movies that Dazi recognized, but a flashy sign on the table advertised custom carvings of people’s fursonas.
“Let me guess,” the vendor said to Kesi. “Gray fox?”
“No.”
“Wolf?”
“No, coyote.”
“Ah!” The vendor nudged a trunk out from under his table. Inside were many smaller boxes, all labeled by species or category. “There isn’t much call for it, but I do have some coyotes in here. Took a summer course in New Mexico last year to learn some older techniques, and while the style isn’t my favorite, I did enjoy myself. Now where is that box of—here it is!” He pulled out a box labeled “Tribal” and opened it with a proud smile.
“Thanks, but we’re not interested,” Kuhma said.
Kesi turned and scowled at him. “I am, shut up.”
Kuhma sighed. “You can make your own at home and they’ll be a hundred times better,” he said in Shoshoni.
“I want to support the arts,” Kesi replied in English, adding in Shoshoni, “I don’t care if he sucks, at least he’s trying.”
The vendor, oblivious to everything except Kesi’s interest in purchasing something, produced several coyote sculptures from the box. Dazi was impressed. They weren’t completely accurate, but the artist had a good grasp of the style, that was for sure. A few were left unpainted; the others were decorated in vivid colors with designs similar to the ones Dazi knew. He assumed those were the designs the tribes developed in New Mexico.
Kesi ignored the painted coyotes. She picked up one that fit in the palm of her hand, scrutinized it for a moment, then pulled out her wallet.
“Glad this little guy is finally getting a home,” the vendor said. “Like I told you, these ones don’t sell as well. Tell you what, I’ll take a few dollars off the usual price. I make plenty from the custom carvings anyway.”
Despite the discount, Kuhma rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath in Shoshoni about Kesi wasting money. Kesi thanked the vendor with a bright smile and strutted away with her souvenir. “Where to next?” she asked Mateo.
“Well, next we could look at costume pieces, if you’re interested.” Mateo gestured to a nearby booth that at first glance appeared to be wallpapered in multi-colored fuzz. “These guys are decent, if you don’t mind the cartoonish look.”
The blur of color turned into an almost grizzly display of oversized paws, tails, and ears. Dazi’s hands tingled thinking about what it would be like to have his own front paws chopped off and sold as gloves. Mateo had a point though. The more Dazi looked at them, the sillier the costumes appeared. Many were absurd or lurid colors, and the fur was clearly synthetic. Running his fingers over the closest item, a tail, it felt like a polyester blend or something similar.
Mateo nodded. “Yeah, I could see you walking around with a tail like that. You would definitely need the forty-eight-inch tail. It’d suit you better. It’s long and thick, like yo—” Mateo abruptly stopped, which only garnered more awkward stares from everyone else, especially Kesi.
He’s talking about my tail he’s talking about my tail he’s talking about my real tail and he didn’t even actually say it. Kesi, I swear we’ve only seen each other naked twice and neither of us really looked…did we? The first time, Dazi had been distracted by the fact that Mateo’s eyes didn’t change, and in the hotel room Dazi had too many other things on his mind to consider checking Mateo out. That didn’t mean Mateo hadn’t looked. He had tried to mount Dazi, but that was his jaguar’s instinct.
Mateo isn’t like us. His inner jaguar isn’t merely a guide, it’s who he is. Which means he—oh. Dazi clenched his fist and wondered how many erections he would have to suppress that day. He could already hear Kesi repeating her text to him. You’d better not be thinking with your dick. That wasn’t why Dazi wanted to protect Mateo, but perhaps it was a contributing factor.
“Whoa,” Kuhma exclaimed. “The wooden coyote, I can understand, but you are not spending seventy dollars on a fake tail.”
Dazi hadn’t even noticed that part. “Oh, yeah, no, thanks but…I don’t need it.”
“Are you sure?” Mateo said. “I told you, I save up for purchases like this, so it’s no problem.”
The genuine generosity in Mateo’s voice made Dazi sick at heart. Oh, Mateo, please don’t tell me we’re falling for each other. This is going to be hard enough…
Dazi raked his teeth over his lip. “I’ll be fine, really. Though, if you want, you can point me towards the booth where you got your ears. Maybe they’ll have a pair in my color?”
“Oh, I ordered these off the internet before my first year here, but we can definitely find you something around here.” Mateo smiled briefly in Kuhma’s direction. “Hopefully they’ll be within budget.”
Kuhma snorted, but said nothing. As they walked through the dealers’ hall, Dazi noticed Kuhma wasn’t looking at the booths. Instead, his eyes darted between the different groups of people they passed, a faint frown on his face. Damn it, Kuhma, if you’re that determined to find problems here you might as well shout, ‘Hey, does anyone here think we look suspicious?’ Dazi
couldn’t blame him for keeping an eye out, but he was being too negative about it. At least Kesi was trying to blend in. Dazi was grateful for that.
When one fursuiter came bouncing down the aisle towards them, the hair on Dazi’s neck stood up. Kuhma and Kesi likewise stepped back defensively. Mateo, however, held out his arms for a hug.
“Rosie!” He hugged the furry with a sort of child-like enthusiasm. Dazi’s heart twinged with jealousy. The creature with its arms around Mateo had small pointed ears like a cat, but the muzzle was too rounded, almost like a short fox snout. Its tail was thicker than a cat’s as well, and had alternating black and colorful bands. Dazi noticed all of this second, because he was first distracted by the neon pink fur.
Mateo finished his hug and turned to give introductions. “Guys, this is Rosie. I met her my first year here. She’s been attending these since the beginning. Rosie, these are my new friends. They’re all fur-curious, so they came by to see what furry conventions are like.”
Rosie nodded and waved silently. Dazi still felt uneasy. Her eyes were large and green and seemed to move as she turned her head, despite the fact that they were painted on. When both eyes were focused on him, Dazi felt the dead stare boring into him.
“Nice to meet you, Rosie,” Kesi said.
Rosie waved again, but said nothing.
“Oh, she doesn’t talk, so I guess explanations are up to me.” Mateo cleared his throat. “Rosie is a cat/lemur hybrid, a leline as she calls it, right, Rosie?”
The pink creature nodded. She held up the laminated picture attached to her badge. It was a hand-drawn self-portrait of sorts with her name at the bottom surrounded by stars. Some elements were the same, such as the fluffy banded tail, the odd snout, and the fur coloration, but the leline had daintier paws and was more animalistic than humanoid, plus the eyes were more expressive. Dazi wondered if she had drawn it herself, because it was very good.
Beasts Like Us Page 9
