A storm of gourds

Though he was able to train some of his magic through the Academy, those that were unique to merfolk had no human teacher. For that matter, there were few enough among his own people who he could approach for lessons in their stronger powers. Undaunted, Hadama took to push his own limits, stretching them to see how far they'd grow.

True storms were uncommon over the Arclight during Leafchange. After asking travelers at Kaiholo Port, however, Hadama had heard of a place in the Hollowed Grounds where the storms rolled relentlessly across the prairie. It was unreachable from the water, but on the night of the full moon - a blue moon, bright and vast in the sky above Torchline - he had aquaported to the Outer Brambles and shifted to his human form.

He walked among the tall, dry grasses, supported by his trident and lit by a combination of its starlit tines and the occasional lightning that flashed across the sky in jagged lines. No moon was visible through the eternal storm, but its effects were still apparent in the pair of legs that were wrapped in a simple long skirt of tough, dark grey material.

Round shapes bounced through the grass nearby, their rustling largely hidden beneath the constant thunder as Hadama studied the storm and learned from its wildness.

Open!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Hadama studies the storms and Dantalion studies the gourds. He's seen them before, bumbling through the marketplace in the Inner Quarter, but never against the backdrop of lightning. And while Hadama sports legs for the occasion, Danta envelops himself in the dark feathers of a gore crow.

Said crow is perched nearby on a spindly tree bereft of leaves, eyes pinned on one of the rolling pumpkins. But before the next flash of lightning, the bird is gone, or so it seems; the croaking shriek it sends out tells the truth of the matter, however, and is all the warning the gourd will get before sharp talons sink into its orange flesh.

It isn't meat and it doesn't have eyes, and so it isn't the best victim for an Ancient sating his bloodlust. But it's fun, and as the crow pecks at the fleshy innards, it's pretty tasty too.

Dantalion

The shriek was audible even over the rumble of thunder and the gusting winds, and Hadama turned his head to find the source of the unsettling sound. The Gore Crow was an unexpected sight, but the vampire gourd it perched upon was even more so. The large man considered the pair thoughtfully as the crow fed upon its prey and then swept his gaze around the darkened plain.

In the flash of another stab of lightning across the clouds the grasses were illuminated and now he did see the gathering pack... herd... bushel?? of fanged orange flesh and hot ember eyes. "Hmm. I am a friend of Fangorn," he tried first; the clever companion was his only previous experience with the species, but as a small pair of particularly brave pumpkins started bouncing aggressively towards him he suspected they weren't impressed with his credentials.

"Very well." He swept his trident up and around into a defensive position, prepared to impale any gourd that came too close.

Danta, meanwhile, would find his position on the ground had drawn his own little pack of admirers who seemed undeterred by his current meal as they sidled closer, softly cackling as they prepared to pounce!

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Having been enjoying his meal far too much to notice Hadama's approach, it's only the sudden appearance of a fucking trident that catches the crow's attention. Feathered head whipping around only to cock back at the hissing, cackling pumpkins, the Ancient promptly finds himself outnumbered, but not outgunned.

Shifting into the long limbed blond the Hollowed Grounds has come to know and love, definitely love, he straightens only to plant his foot straight down and through a mischievous gourd, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Figured I would get struck by lightning rather than this," he calls to his apparent new friend.

Dantalion

The crow was not a crow for long. Hadama turned his head briefly in surprise as black feathers shed into blond hair and a lanky man he recognized, but his pair of pugnacious pumpkins took the opportunity to launch themselves at his ankles with mayhem on their minds.

He turned back just in time to see their approach and cast his Stormcall. One gourd was knocked aside by his trident but the other found itself bowled sideways by a gust of wind and its own little localized thunderstorm.

"Indeed. I have never seen them in such numbers," Hadama admitted. He shifted his grip on his trident, moving closer to the Ancient to close the angles from which the fanged fruit could attack from. "They are rare in Torchline." The vampire gourds that remained grumbled and cackled to each other, gathering into a formidable harvest of hard rinds and sharp teeth. Courteously, the merman inclined his head slightly to his new companion, this time not taking his eyes off their hunters. "Do you want the ones on the left?"

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"How does someone end up in the Levinsward from Torchline?" Danta wonders, pausing to gape at the miniature storm that Hadama calls, clearly impressed, before his own pumpkins remind him to pay attention. Offering a charming little nod - yes he would quite like to take the ones on the left - Danta soon breaks that veneer of civility by punting one of the gourds across the way.

"I suppose even they must get lonesome," he remarks, and though this might be a deep comment from someone else, the broad, fanged grin on the Ancient's face rather ruins it. Stomping on another pumpkin for good measure, the cackling creatures finally seem to be wary of their two-legged opponents.

Dantalion

"Teleportation," Hadama answered solemnly, and if there was amusement in his eyes at the deliberately simple answer he hid it well behind his stoic facade. Both the neverending storm overhead and the unexpected fracas were invigorating, and if the chaotic Ancient was a bit rough around the edges, well, his friend Melita was a chaotic firebrand in her own right and the mermanta was used to her own brand of melee mayhem.

Flipping his trident so that he held it near the tines, Hadama measured the distance between himself and the gourds that tumbled towards him. One of his favorite trainings with Mel had involved using a stick to hit back seeds or stones the other threw. The vampire gourds were much larger targets, and though they bounced erratically they were also much easier to hit as muscles flexed and Hadama swung his weapon like a club, sending several more of the rotund predators sailing into the storm.

"Indeed." Perhaps Danta's remark was facetious, but it seemed as likely an answer as any.

As the gourds gave ground and some wisely slipped away to find a less troublesome dinner, Hadama spared a glance over to his erstwhile companion. "What brings you to the Hollowed Grounds?" Had they been properly introduced at Flora's party? Hadama couldn't quite remember, but the Ancient's name was currently eluding him.

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Raising his eyebrows - teleportation and the ability to call storms? - Danta assumes he's come across an Abandoned or, if he's very lucky, yet another demigod (he keeps meeting them, weirdly). Between them they manage to batter away the onslaught of mischievous pumpkins, and he's very interested in Hadama's trident, at least until the other man addresses him directly.

"Me? I live here," he informs him rather proudly. "Or rather, I'm about to. Danta." Offering out his hand to shake, the mermanta will find it warm and calloused, his grip surprisingly firm given the somewhat willowy figure it belongs to. "First time I've been into this part of the Grounds, though. Did you teleport here... on purpose?"

Dantalion

"Hadama," he returned, reaching for the offered hand and taking it in a firm grip that would reveal the translucent webbing between his fingers. "A pleasure to meet you again, Danta." More so than the first time had been, at least. but that had been a while ago and it was water under the bridge by now.

Reclaiming his hand, he glanced up to the heavy clouds above them that hid the gloriously full moon before giving a slow nod. "Yes. To study the storms, and learn better control of my magic." He turned back to the man who had joined him in the wild night, admiring the crystal horns that spiraled form his brow.

"Are you setting up a place of business here?"

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

Again has Danta furrowing his brow; he's neither great with names and faces nor a complete dimwit, and his defence he'd had a fair bit to drink by the time he'd stumbled upon - and stolen - Hadama's conversation in the Hanged Man. Eventually realisation does dawn on him, in more than one way, and he looks directly down at the man's feet. "You've got legs now," he notes.

Anyway.

"I suppose there aren't many better places to study storms," he agrees, a rumble of thunder purring in the distance, deep enough to thrum through the ground beneath them. "And I am, yes." Something like that, anyway. "I am going to open a parlour of pleasure and bodily delights in The Last Whisper. You're welcome to sample it, when it's open."

Dantalion

Hadama was perfectly content to wait for Danta to search his memory while he watched the wild, clouded night sky. A stiff breeze occasionally toyed with the end of his braid, but his damp hair was too heavy for the wind to whip about. The Ancient's observation earned a tilt of the merman's head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes gleaming in the lightning crawling overhead. "Indeed," he rumbled gravely.

Even if legs were only a temporary state.

The thunder was a reassuring rumble through the sky and plain, bringing memories of Flowerbirth monsoons to the wandering King. He only returned his attention fully back to his companion at the offer, but a ruler of Torchline was hardly one to blush at the mention of a whorehouse. "Thank you. Have you decided what services will be offered?"

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"Do you wear them often?" Danta wonders of the other man's legs, though his eyes are on the sky and the lightning zig-zagging through it like jagged, twitching fingers. Having never met a Mer in any intimate sense, the Ancient knows very little about them; for all he's aware, Hadama might be able to don legs for fins whenever he pleases.

As for his brothel, Danta hasn't really had time to give it much thought beyond the obvious. (As in, you know, sex.) "Well, there's space for a bar, so food and drink will be available as well as tongues and hands," he murmurs. "I also considered some dancers, but perhaps that can be revisited later..."

Dantalion

"Only for special occasions," Hadama answered, as stoic and solemn as a monk at his prayers. Any amusement that he felt was expressed only in his eyes, but those were now turned up to the storm as well, studying the lightning with a craftsman's eye. He couldn't control the lightning of his own small storms yet, but perhaps with enough practice...

Drawn back down to earth by the mention of Danta's business venture, the Mer King nodded acknowledgment of the bar and dancers. Both sounded like good additions, and he lapsed into silence for a short while, thinking. "Would you consider offering massages? Trained. Either intimate or not," he clarified. From his conversations with Maeve, sometimes it was the sensual that a customer desired, rather than the purely sexual.

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"I didn't realise studying storms was so special," Danta remarks, unable to see Hadama's expression to gauge his amusement, and so pulling a face as if wondering whether the other man is fucking with him. It doesn't matter, he supposes, given that his company makes any meeting special (in his not-so-humble opinion), and besides, conversation turns to the next best thing in the Hollowed Grounds as far as entertainment goes.

"Oh, that is an idea," he agrees with a raise of his eyebrows. "I hadn't considered it, but I certainly will now. Would you and your legs care for a massage, if you drop by once the place is open?" With a fanged grin, Danta nonetheless shifts on his feet as a particularly loud clap of thunder rolls through his bones.

Dantalion