Vampires go Brrrrrlllll~

[cotyledon]

"Um..."

There's a pumpkin patch in the Nexus today! A small one. It kind of looks like one of those pumpkin sales you see outside churches around Halloween, selling pumpkins to raise money for the youth group: several dozen pumpkins of various sizes and shapes set out on a tarp. Except there's a low chicken-wire fence set around the tarp, and these pumpkins are not just sitting there.

They're rocking back and forth a little, all on their own, making intermittent rolling forays in no particular direction. Bumping into each other, rolling up against the fence, scrunching up the edges of the tarp as if to get under it and away from the light. Some of them have reddened patches on their skin, as if they're blood-stained.

"Ummm...so, what had happened was, I bought a bunch of rare seeds from a guy at the night market." The young woman sitting in a folding chair by the display looks a little sheepish. "I have a greenhouse on the roof of my building, I figured whatever sprouted could be contained. They just turned out way more prolific than I expected."

She's gonna need a new greenhouse.

"These are vampire pumpkins. They used to believe if you leave a regular pumpkin out in the full moon they might turn into vampires on their own, but apparently you can breed them for seeds and get a full crop. Who knew, right?"

Brrll, brrll! The coven of gourds makes soft thrumming noises as they bump around. Some might find the sound annoying, but Abby thinks it's kind of pleasant, a little like a cat purring.

"Anyway, these are up for adoption, I guess. I wouldn't recommend eating them, unless you're already a vampire, but I can't think why you'd want to, even then. They can't bite you; they don't have mouths. I don't think they're malevolent, just kind of dumb, so probably the worst they could do is trip you up on the stairs. If you get one and keep it in a playpen or a box, it's totally harmless and kind of cute."

That's...encouraging. Any takers?

Comments

[gentle_puck]

"The night market?" Robin repeats, grin curving a little sharper at one edge of his lips than the other. "What could possibly go wrong." He takes a careful step over the chicken wire before straightening up again inside the pen, his hands tucked into his pockets against the chill in the autumn air. While he thinks he's heard that superstition about pumpkins somewhere before, he's certainly never seen it put into practice, but the evidence literally at his feet is both compelling and oddly endearing. Maybe a bit concerning, too, since they seem uncomfortable in the full sunlight.

They do seem to be harmless--not just in a practical sense, but in terms of intention, as well, so he isn't particularly wary when he picks up the one that's nudging a slow circle around the toe of his boot.

He lets it roll from one of his hands to the other and back again. "Hello there." The quality of its thrumming seems to shift a bit, hollow and then full again, something like seeds or ball bearings rumbling around in an otherwise empty space. This is one is fairly sizable, but he can still hold its weight in one hand. He uses the other to pull out one side of his jacket and give the pumpkin some shade. It rolls unmistakably in that direction, planting itself firmly in the patch of shadow and nudging up under his ribcage. He chooses to interpret the purring's increase in volume as some kind of gratitude. "It looks like a spectacularly successful crop."

[cotyledon]

"The New York night market," she amends. "It's not necessary as mystical as it sounds. Not all of it, at least. There are plenty of people selling the same stuff you'd get at a flea market. But there are definitely, um, specialty items, if you know who to ask."

Despite needing to adopt out her little pumpkin-sprouts, she's fairly pleased with herself. They wouldn't have grown without proper care; it's an accomplishment!

"...aww." She smiles as the one he's picked up snuggles into his jacket. "Well, that one likes you. The two I'm keeping are under my bed back home. I had an old doggie bed that they seem to like."

"I planted about twice as many vines as I should have," she says. "But they're healthy. They just managed to knock out one of my greenhouse walls, and now it's structurally unsound so they can't stay there."

[gentle_puck]

"There usually are," Robin agrees. So much of life involves asking the right questions of the right people. Preferably at the right time. Triangulating all three of those variables usually proves a little tricky, so he tends to get the first two in place and leave the last up to chance. "Wherever you come from, it seems to have fascinating botanical possibilities. Err. Despite the destructive tendencies."

Growing things always have the potential to make sudden and great demands of their cages. That's a kind of success, too. The pumpkin tucked in against his arm is certainly healthy enough, and he tips his head very slightly toward it, listening to the rumble of its voice. It blends with the others still down on the tarp, and together they make a pleasant sort of harmony.

He shouldn't ask.

He's absolutely not going to ask.

"...I don't suppose you have any more seeds?"

[cotyledon]

Sometimes the wrong questions from the wrong people get you somewhere just as interesting, though, regardless of timing. This is how you get vampires. At least, that would be what Abby would say, were she asked.

"It looks like a pretty normal human-dominated world on the surface," she tells him, "where I come from. But there's a hidden counterculture and I'm a big part of it. You get everything from were-rats to demons to fae to dragonfolk in New York, because the human people who don't want to notice them won't notice them."

He might be able to tell she's not exactly baseline human, herself. Breathes only to speak, pointy little fangs, iridescent irises, and if there's a heartbeat it's so low as to be almost inaudible. Here she is in the sunlight, though! The Nexus is an odd place.

"Anymore...pumpkin seeds, specifically?" Haha, that cagey look suggests she's been dipping into night market botanicals on a regular basis. "I do, actually. I kept back about a dozen in case the conditions I grew these guys under didn't work out. I wouldn't want to trade them all away, but I could probably spare five or six."

[gentle_puck]

Robin grins. "Where I come from is much the same. People tend to see what they expect to see." They also tend to willfully reject what they don't wish to see, with sometimes tragic consequences, but... The world has never been kind. "I've never seen anything quite like these, though." Under the protective shade of his jacket, he tucks the pumpkin up under his arm, where it continues to roll in slow, comfortable revolutions.

Perhaps she can tell a bit about him, too, since he's a little more greenish than usual today, properly autumn gold-touched at the very edges of hair and fingers and face. The way his eyes catch the light isn't precisely natural either--not by human standards, anyway.

His grin goes subtly wider and he says, "Perhaps we can reach some kind of agreement. I think five or six would work perfectly well." He has no particular plans in mind for whatever he's likely to grow, but unexpected gourds seem like both a fun experiment for him and a possible irritation for someone else, so a win all around. Besides, he can't resist a plant with personality.