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The Isle of Pearls. White-sand beaches, clear blue ocean, giant palm trees, puffy white clouds, birds of every colour you can imagine - and maybe even a few that you can't. The absolute most beautiful place in the world, bar none. And on this particular perfect day, a young - though already devilishly attractive - Dimos is on their way home from remedial geometry lessons, part one. This young Dimos moves with their usual urgency - which is to say, of course, that it involves stopping at each rock pool to see what the tide has brought in and climbing half the palms because it's fun to throw coconuts at things.
Young Dimos is about halfway home, when what should he chance to smell? The smoky scent of something burning, and, like any good kid, Young Dimos goes to check it out first, instead of going to fetch a responsible adult. They follow their nose and soon stumble into a secluded little dip in the ground surrounded by a thick wall of shrubs, where they find three of the older kids huddled around a little leaf-wrapped package, pinching off little bits of the stuff inside, chewing it, then spitting out little puffs of flame and smoke.
The oldest of the three points to Young Dimos and says, "Hey! I know you, you're one of the coolest kids in your cohort, right? Come on in and have some of this lakpaste with us to prove you're really as awesome and charming as everybody says you are!"
Tomak looked up from the bonfire at Dimos. "So your trick is that you've built up a tolerance for kraklaks using lakpaste?"
"What? No!" Dimos put a hand on his chest, feigning offence. "Filthy, disgusting habit - do you have any idea what they put into that stuff? Besides, I like food too much to kill the experience with an acute case of blacktongue, thank-you-very-much."
Tomak frowned. "Then how-?"
"Stop interrupting and I'll get to it! Ahem."
Young Dimos is, of course, well aware of all the unpleasant side-considerations of lakpaste usage and declines. 'No thank-you, my good peers," they say, "I am going to be the world's premiere enchanter one day, and it would be unbecoming of me to spend my days shirking my studies by huffing lakpaste in the bushes like some derelict trog.'
Tomak snorted. "You really said that?"
"Who's to say I didn't?"
"And an enchanter, huh?"
Dimos shook their head. "Ehhhh. Not every dream comes true. Story for a different time. But spoiler alert, enchanting's pretty much all advanced applied geometry."
Anyways. The older kids aren't so keen about being turned down so eloquently and chase Young Dimos away from their hideout, all while peppering them with colourful descriptions about what they would do to poor young me if word of their secret deeds makes its way to the adults of the island. Naturally, Young Dimos is far too swift and clever to be in any real danger, and once the older kids break off their pursuit because they're puffing and wheezing too hard to continue, the clever young Tssrrn is free to concoct a plan most cunning with which to get back at them. Telling the adults might be a swift way for Young Dimos to find his tail in a wringer, but what about somebody bigger than that? So, Young Dimos changes course to head to the centre of the island to talk to the most Charming and Courageous dragon of all time.
Tomak looked surprised. "You went straight to Skryllex over that?"
"Skryllex? Pfft. He's way too busy being in charge to waste time or energy on 'Charm,' and you only need 'Courage' if you're not already the biggest and baddest tornado in town. Naw, ol' Rumbleguts had to sit this one out, I was off to see Kryzzylar."
Tomak blinked. "I don't think I've heard of that one?"
"Yeah, not surprising - she's pretty young, I think only one or two hundred-? I think she only recently moved up from the bottom tier of the Game, so I'd be more surprised if you had heard of her way over here."
So as I was saying: Young Dimos, bravely entering the dragon's cave. Trembling, he steps across the threshold, takes a deep breath and yells, 'Yo! Kryzza-lyzzle!'
And Kryzzylar roars back, 'Hark! It is the dulcet tones of my one most favourite Tssrrn! What manner of ill vexes such a raw young talent? My modest hoard is at your disposal for remedying whatever ails you!'
"That is not at all how that conversation would have gone."
Whose story is this, yours or mine? Anyways- Where was I?
"Kryzzylar's cave, happy to see you."
Right. So. Young Dimos explains the situation that they're in, while Kryzzylar listens with full attention and asks probing questions to get all the important details, like 'Did you collect any crabs from the rockpools to share,' to which Young Dimos replies 'Alas, no delicious crabs today!' The sun is well on its way to the horizon when Young Dimos finally gets to the part about the older kids getting into the lakpaste and chasing Young Dimos off.
Kryzzylar ponders Young Dimos' news for a long moment, then, in her infinite wisdom, alights upon a plan most cunning and bold.
'As these misguided youths seem to like things hot,' Kryzzylar proclaims, 'ye shall take from my hoard four dried kraklaks of the purest quality. Ye shall share them equally with your peers, and consume the fiery fruit together to teach them the error of their ways, and verily, have some fun at their expense.'
'Ah, this is a most cunning plan indeed,' Young Dimos agrees. 'For the pepper that you bestow for myself will be tame in comparison, correct?'
'Nae, young one. Yours shall be the most potent of them all,' Kryzzylar decrees.
'Oh,' says Young Dimos. 'Then am I to fake eating the pepper using my advanced knowledge of the art of palmistry?'
'Nae, young one. By truly consuming the pepper and exhaling the flames within they shall know that you are not a wimp.'
'Oh,' says Young Dimos. 'But I thought we were going to solve this so that I don't get burned to a crisp...?'
'And so we shall! For the final part of my plan is this: I shall teach you the secret formulation of a tincture that shall coat your mouth to protect you from the fire-fruit's flames! Thou shalt swish it around your mouth not more than an hour before consuming the pepper, then spit the potion to the ground - thou shalt not swallow the concoction, for if you do it will disagree with thy digestion most colourfully. Whenst thou eat the pepper, similarly do not swallow, for only your mouth will be protected. Hold the fire in there for as long as you desire, then exhale the flames when the effect would be most dramatic.'
"Huh. So that's all it is? You've just got a recipe for a magic potion that makes you fireproof for a while?" Tomak asked.
Dimos pulled a glass jar filled with an opaque, pale-orange liquid from their pack and flipped it through the air from one hand to the other. "Ta-daaa! Not actually magic, or at least I don't think so."
"What's in it?"
Dimos waggled a finger. "Ah ah ahh, trade secret! Though I can tell you that the real secret is to add some puréed mango to the base recipe at the end. Doesn't actually do anything, but makes it taste a lot better."
Tomak chuckled. "So what happened to those kids chewing in the bushes?"
"Oh, you know," Dimos sniggered. "Little wimpy twerp of a kid comes back the next day and slags them with a challenge that they can't back down from, they take the bait, and I got to watch them run for the beach to- heh heh- to- HA! Oh, you should'a seen it! Like, you know that the stuff still burns even in water, but they didn't. So there they were, slurping up the ocean and belching hot streams of bubbles back in-! The were fine after, don't worry - Kryzzylar didn't actually give me the really strong stuff. They probably had some blisters for a few days, two of them dropped the habit, and none of 'em bothered me or anyone else again, so I'd chalk it up as a win. Best part though, best part were the lobstercatchers - these big, regal, serious-looking birds - that were floating in the shallows when the others plunged in. BWAaaaAAK! Least dignified sound I'd ever heard, they did not appreciate the sudden steam bath!"
Tomak laughed, shaking his head as he pictured the scene.
"So? How'd I do?"
"Your story was more than enough to earn a seat by the fire," Tomak said. He reached into the flames and pulled out a pair of charred lobsters, tossing one to Dimos that the Tssrrn caught with an old bandana.
The two ate in relative silence for a few minutes.
"So if we're trading fireside stories," Dimos said, "question for you, if you're willing to share. Any particular reason why you're out here at night, all by yourself?"