[SE] Pickled, dried, salted, smoked

Go deep enough and it was always LongNight in the ocean. But the City was in shallow enough waters to benefit from sunlight that filtered through the crystalline sea. From the beautiful corals to the colorful fish that darted through the bright waters, the residents lived with the cycles of day and night as much as the drylanders did.

And LongNight brought its own challenges in navigating and travel beyond the City's bounds. It became an island of light amidst the darkness, cut off from the rest of Torchline until the dawn returned.

But like Torchline, it was also a week of celebration, and this year Hadama had come to Kaiholo's fishmarket; an unusual customer, to say the least. The merman heaved himself up halfway out of the water at the canal's edge to examine the fish the humans had caught and prepared - not the fresh catch of the day, where most drylanders gathered, but a little ways off to the side in a quieter side-alley where the canal narrowed and the fish for sale had been preserved or rendered in some way.

A dripping bag of oysters was exchanged one way.

A waxed and oiled bag of various fish went the other.

And the mermanta looked quietly pleased with himself as he went through the bag's contents one more time at the side of the canal.

Lena

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Stormbreak hadn’t often needed to worry too much about LongNight. Before the portals opened, it had been an occasion of darkness, and not much else. But with monsters potentially roaming, no matter what the Ascended claimed, the Caretaker took it upon herself to wander the markets of her stony wards, and the outer reaches, like Torchline, to ensure she had everything stored and tucked away within the Celestine. Just in case.

There was nothing wrong with stockpiling a variety of bandages anyway. The animals would have everything they needed right there when everyone else was hunkering down or shifting about from sky port to sky port. So she did the same, meandering after landing amidst the lush sands once more, eyes taking in a hundreds of movements and motions, attentive and distracted in her own right - missing one sight in particular.

Like a mermanta.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

His first stop had been a success, so after verifying the amount and quality of the fish – this was Kaiholo, after all – Hadama carefully sealed the mouth of the bag by rolling it closed and securing it around itself. He pulled it into the water and then swam a little farther down the canal, towards the next vendor on his list—

Ah. A woman stood near the edge of the canal, between him and the stall he sought. He waited patiently to see if she had business of her own to transact but it quickly became clear that she didn’t. After a moment’s consideration he cleared his throat politely before rumbling: ”Excuse me. I need to speak to the man behind you.” And he nodded towards the swarthy fishmonger with his pickled goods.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Too distracted by all the sights, sounds, pragmatics, and possibilities, keen observation skills she might’ve utilized on a wounded or ailing animal didn’t seem to prevail here, in and amongst surroundings she wasn’t wholly familiar with. The unknown took precedence over everything else, and so she was slightly startled when another addressed her.

About to mumble an apology for her inattention, she was all the more surprised to find it was a merman – altering her course slightly, and bumping into another wayward stranger. “So sorry,” she muttered to everyone, hastening out of the way as best she could, swinging around –

Which then prompted her basket to sharpen its wide, wild course, and spill its contents everywhere. With a quick sigh, she dropped downward, hands clutching at bandages before they went askew and rolled off.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

He truly hadn't meant to startle her, and Hadama swam quickly to stop one of the bandage rolls from falling into the canal. His hand was damp, but it was far less damage than the cloth would have received otherwise. Offering it back to the woman with an apologetic tilt of his head, he saw the other contents of her basket. ”Excuse me, healer. I did not mean to surprise you.” Emerald eyes looked over the stranger, noting her unfamiliarity with the market and apparent unease, even in this less-traveled area.

”Are you lost?” he asked, curiosity and courtesy all in one. Fish markets weren’t the usual place for healers… but then, they weren’t the usual haunts of merfolk, either.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

“It’s fine,” she whispered, handwaving the apology off because it was her own fault for being more than just a little air-headed. With a diligent sigh, she took back the bandage. “Not lost, was just perusing. I wanted to bring back some supplies for the animals…,” imagining quite a few of the carnivorous types would enjoy a feast of fish during LongNight’s ever-present haze.

Shaking her head and regaining her vantage point, and multitudes of composure, she permitted a smile, and an extension of her hand for more formal greetings. “I’m Lena.” Not making a personal note that she’d never met one of his kind, she continued with the pleasantries and introductions, figuring that might be better than whatever grumbling course she’d set them on. “Caretaker of the Celestine.”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

He almost missed her words; the Port could be loud, with voices echoing even in the quieter back areas of the market. He found it a relief, however, to meet someone soft-spoken and he let his curiosity hold him back from simply swimming on his way again.

His own hand rose to meet hers, dark-skinned and with a translucent webbing between his fingers. Large fingers enclosed smaller ones, firm and gentle in the dryland ritual of greeting. "I am Hadama." He paused, uncertain how to continue for a moment. He had become a smith without a forge of his own, working with borrowed tools. A wanderer who rarely strayed far from his home waters. A trader of favors between land and sea, but no true merchant. "Of the mer," he finished, simply and without adornment even if it was a statement of the obvious.

"What is a Celestine?" A word that sounded almost familiar, though off the top of his head he couldn't quite place it.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Lena had figured out that last accord on her own, but gave a soft smile in return anyway. Being of the mer was a figment of fantastical things in and of itself – she could only recall seeing their images in textbooks amongst the Archives and Collegium as a child. “Pleased to meet you,” even in the circumstances were a bit bizarre.

Righting the remains of her basket, the Caretaker found no hesitation in prospering further explanation – used to it, perhaps, given the influx of Outlanders and Naturals alike who’d never been to the stony and traditional world of Stormbreak. Her smile broadened, no longer uncomfortable with any notions surrounding them; as if she were instantly at home and at peace despite any bizarre motions beforehand. “They are gardens that stretch around the city. Frey brings any injured or sick animals into enclosures amongst the flowers, and I tend to them. When they are healed and recuperated, they return to the wild.” She paused, pondering further, if she should be asking what he did for an occupation, because it would surely be interesting, or ceasing there altogether.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

"A pleasure," he murmured, completing the ritual as hands were reclaimed.

Stormbreak itself was semi-mythical; buildings and a great tower visible from the sea but lacking Torchline's canals to allow merfolk entrance. It was a place of mystery, strange and distant, in waters few mer had traveled to in recent memory. The opportunity to speak to a resident was most welcome for that reason, and Hadama listened in unhurried silence as Lena spun a vision in garden green.

"You are a priestess of Frey?" An openly curious and frank question, new respect dawning in emerald eyes.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Stormbreak had its enchantments and flaws; having lived there her entire life brought about such perspectives. But with recent developments, events, and things lost in the wake of chaos, Lena had turned on a much more faithful, constant allegiance to the world of stone – though the inquiry made her eyes widen for a moment, with a light laugh to follow. “Oh, no! I’m just a loyal follower.” She wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea – she certainly wasn’t one of Gideon’s disciples, strolling about in robes across the cathedral’s floor, nor was she going to bombard others with their choices of religion.

Tilting her head vaguely, attention drawn to some fish passing through as merchants wheeled more merchandise and produce through the market, she pondered over the curiosities and information surrounding the mer. She figured most of them had occupations just like the rest of the world – only underwater – so she leaned into those notions and inquiries. “What do you do for work?”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

He accepted her answer with calm equanimity, nodding in understanding at the difference. Priests were an uncommon breed - and often unsettling. Followers, however loyal, were far more common and tended to be less... uncomfortably fanatical.

Usually.

He turned his head to follow the fish's procession with curiosity before Lena's question drew his attention back to her. He didn't - quite - sigh, but he tilted his head in an acknowledgment that bordered on the rueful. "I am a smith. Or at least... I have trained to be one." A lifetime of training, as it turned out. "But I do not have a seaforge or tools of my own. I must borrow time in my mother's forge." An increasingly uncomfortable situation. "Are your parents also Caretakers?"

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Hadama needn’t worry about fanaticism and Lena – though tending to prosper over the greatness of Frey’s exploits and expertise, she’d never forced her opinions on anyone. A relishing of experiences, perhaps, and not much more, eternally intrigued to hear of others’ inputs and accomplishments with the Old Gods, or sometimes, the New, by simple curiosity. The latter had gone by the wayside in the wake of other things, however, and understandably so.

The reaction garnered by the question wasn’t something she expected – maybe there was an emotion underlying there that she’d accidently tripped over. Striving to keep away from what could be an unfortunate circumstance, her mind ran wild on how one smithed beneath the sea. “Are there special tools you use?” How did they maintain the heat necessary? Or was that too much as well? Her lips drew into a semblance of a frown, before relegating to a soft smile. “Well, I hope you manage to get your own. What sort of items do you make?”

The inquiry about her parents made her eyes widen, and then she permitted a light laugh. “Oh, goodness no. They’re intertwined with academics, and frequent the Collegium.”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm

The question brought to mind another inquiring drylander and Hadama wondered what had become of the mischievous bird for a moment. He hadn't seen her in quite some time, but for a moment he considered Lena, green eyes thoughtful, before he inclined his head in agreement of her suppositions. "Special places, and special tools. Magic tools, that protect what they forge from rust and rot. They have been in my family for generations. When my mother retires they will come to me. But until then..." He trailed off with a shrug of broad shoulders. Her well wishes were met with another small bow at the courtesy, and a smile in his eyes at the inquiry.

"Jewelry, mostly. Blades, rarely. Other materials last longer, but do not keep an edge as well as metal." So there was call for it underwater, in spite of how much extra care and magic was required to make and preserve it.

Mention of a Collegium had his eyes brightening. "My sister would have many questions for them," he rumbled, amused. "And my father, even more. What do they study?" Since she didn't seem to mind the topic of her family.

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Enhanced proportions for a world beneath the sea sounded just about right – and she could almost conjure a magical, mystical means to bubbling sea foam and sapphires concocted below undulating waves. She made no inquiry about the nature of the tools and descendants, though she did wonder why he couldn’t go out and simply get his own – but maybe, like so many other things rooted into the world, it was the nature of tradition. A broad smile followed. “Sounds lovely,” and she meant it. Perhaps jewels sounded better than armaments – even now, as they all stood on the precipice of war.

Her eyes flickered over to the market again, easing forward towards a kiosk, half-distracted by going through her basket, opting to snag at a few items to trade. “Religion, of course,” and she hand-waved the notions aside; for that seemed to be a majority of Stormbreak’s citizenry. “Though they tend to dabble in flora and fauna from time to time,” which was why they’d been fine with the menagerie of animals Lena had always tried to bring home, or pleased when Frey had granted her the Celestine.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm