Owner	Pose
Terry O'Neil	The Boardwalk at Saint Martin's is one of Vorpal's go-to destinations. Whenever he needs to work through intense emotions, he works out. Whenever he needs to think, though, he walks by the ocean. The winter weather is not exactly a deterrent to him, since his fur does a good job of insulating him to the point that all he needs is to throw a light leather jacket on top of the spandex, and he doesn't even bother with footwear. After all, walking by the sand is therapeutic, anyways. The Cheshire Cat whistles quietly, eyes out on the water as he walks, trying to think about his conversation with Harley. "... it's funny," he mutters to himself, "Two years ago, what would I have thought if I had said to myself I'd be getting therapy from Harley Quinn?" He chuckles, and kicks a little bit of sand.
Jackson Hyde	Yes, it's January. Yes, it's night. Yes, it's cold as balls. But damn if there isn't some splashing out on the water. About thirty or forty feet from shore a figure glimmers in the moonlight. He's out in the water in form-fitting clothes, including a sleeveless shirt. And the North Atlantic cold doesn't seem to so much as faze him. He vanishes beneath the waves for several beats before bobbing back up again with a tight smile on his face. He has a handful of what, from this distance, appear to be mussel shells. He swims in closer to land until he's at a depth where he can stand. With effortless ease, like he was popping open a candy bar wrapper, he snaps opens the tough mussel shell and scoops out the still-living eat, popping it in his mouth and slurping it down. He discards the shell haphazardly in the water as he continues walking closer and closer to shore, more and more of his emerging from the frigid waters as he does. Finally he walks out of the ocean completely -- and barefoot. He hears a the curious-looking cat boi talking to himself. Perhaps assuming someone else is near, Kal peers around cautiously for another.
Terry O'Neil	"Of course, people might say that that's why I'm talking to myself," he mutters with a smirk, "But it's better than talking to the wrong..." The cat stops, movement catching his attention at the corner of his eye. He turns, and then his eyebrows raise as high as they can. There was a guy, approximately his age... out in the water. Just there. The feline stares, as the other stares at him, and he scratches his cheek absent-mindedly. He weighs his options, and then he decides to approach the guy. Who is definitely wet. In the middle of January. Totally wet. He glances briefly at him, up and down. Yep. Wet. Wearing a /wetsuit/. But he acts as if hypothermia seems to be something that happens to other people- no shuddering, shivering... "Hi!" he says, defaulting to a wave and a grin, despite the concern in his eyes, "I couldn't help but notice that you're..." he waves towards the water, "... you know. Swimming." The friendly demeanor shifts into concern, "Are you... okay? You know. Like... do you need... a coat?"
Jackson Hyde	Although young, Kal has served in the military and graduated from the prestigious Conservatory of Sorcery. He knows a threat when he sees one, and this isn't one. So casually, the kid snaps open another mussel shell like it was made of paper -- hardened fishermen use special tools to pry those things open -- and pops the meat into his mouth. "I do not need a coat," he says. There's this...hint of a smile on his face. It's the kind of gentle, inoffensive cockiness that can only come from being both confident and kind. With one hand, he snaps open a mussel and holds it out toward Terry. Now he's just showing off. "Would you like to eat a mussel. They are my favorite."
Terry O'Neil	The Cheshire lets out a little chuckle at this, "That's awfully kind of you, but I refrain from eating mollusks in grim remembrance of the Oyster massacre perpetrated by the Walrus and the Carpenter. Don't let me deprive you of your meal, though!" he says. He eats raw mollusks. The Cheshire cat does not feel like a threat, but to those who are sensitive to magic- as John Donne would put it, born to strange sights and things invisible to see - the feline emanates magic. Not in the same way a sorcerer would, but more in the way that a magical creature would. "Well, if the cold doesn't bother you, that's good. I personally can't tolerate swimming in the cold... I'm a creature of comforts," he grins. His eyes roam down to the young man's arms, taking in the tattoos that twine around them. Of course, he can see them. Even though it's dark, he is a cat after all. "Oh, that's some nice work..." he gestures to the tattoos, "Where'd you get 'em done?"
Jackson Hyde	Kal quickly sucks down the last mussel and tosses the empty shell over his shoulder into the water. "They were magically burned into my flesh at the Conservatory of Sorcery," he answers casually as though he was just asked where he bought a pair of shoes -- if he were wearing any, that is. "It was excruciating, and had I pulled away I would have been expelled." With the wind chill factor, it is effectively below zero for this soaked young man, yet not so much as a shiver or a chattering of teeth indicate any discomfort. He starts a slow, unassuming lap around Terry. "You look like a land mammal," he says as he continues the slow, evaluating circle. "Like a tiger or a lynx. But upright on two legs." For a moment, Kal stops and peers intently at Terry, his gaze briefly going far away. As he does, the aforementioned tattoos glow for just a moment. "You are a being of great power." Instinctively, he goes down to one knee in a position of respect. "I am Kaldur'ahm of Shayeris and I am honored to meet you, walking magical cat man."
Terry O'Neil	"I'm actually a Cheshire ca- whoa," Vorpal blinks, as Kaldur'ahm drops down to one knee. He looks terribly puzzled, but now he knows that this young man can sense magic. Can work magic. "Oh, don't," he says, reaching over to gently pull Kaldur up by slipping his hands under his elbows, "No need. Mind you, I don't object a handsome guy falling to his knees in front of me, but when that happens I would rather it be because I am a blinding flash of glory and not because I am the Mighty Wizard of Oz!" A pause, "Wrong book though that may be. We don't have wizards as such in Wonderland. That'd be like giving a special name to people who are simply /alive/. Over there. But... I digress." He insists, "On your feet, Kaldur'ahm of Shayeris, Vorpal of Wonderland requests it! Especially since I don't know where Shayeris is." He grins.
Jackson Hyde	Kal stands back up easily. "I am afraid most of your words hold no meaning for me, but that is not surprising. I am from far way, in Atlantis. We have a much different culture." He has seen some surface dwellers do this and he really likes it, so he holds out his fist to Terry for a fist bump. "I am Kal," he re-introduces himself in a less formal way now that he senses that either he is not in the presence of royalty or he is in the presence of unpretentious royalty. "So you are a Cheshire ca," he repeats -- Terry never finished that second word. "I do not know what that is."
Terry O'Neil	The cat's expression lights up at the recognition of the word, "Atlantis! Why, why didn't you say so?" he says, returning the fist bump. "Oh, I'm a cheshire cat. You just surprised me with... you know, bending the knee. I am not used to that. Even though I /technically/ am a big deal back in my world. But I don't stand on ceremony. Never have." Wonderland. He pauses. Yeah... let's not think about Wonderland right now. "But... you're an Atlantean! That explains the magic, and the fact that you're built like that... I've seen Garth just waltz out of ice-cold water like it was nothing at all." He pauses and frowns, "Oh, right! I'm friends with an Atlantean myself- Garth. Do you know him? I also know Arthur--" He pauses for a second, once again, and then in his best casual way, he asks: "Are you one of... Namor's Atlanteans, perhaps?" Subtle. Real subtle.
Jackson Hyde	Kal furrows his brow in confusion and amusement and a good-natured bemusement. "But I...but I did say so. Just now. That is how you know I am from Atlantis." No doubt there are colloquialisms and turns-of-a-phrase in Atlantean, but he doesn't seem to quite understand Terry's slang. "Arthur? Arthur Curry?" Kal says with obvious excitement. "I know him very well. He is my king and..." Then at the mention of Namor, some of the young man's enthusiasm dampens. There can be no doubt that he is /definitely/ not one of Namor's Atlanteans. He's too respectful to let an acrid tone take hold of him but in calm-yet-firm words he slowly says, "I am no servant of Namor." Not King Namor. Just...just Namor. The expression and term hint that more bitter words could be spoken, but this one won't utter them here in front of an outsider.
Terry O'Neil	"Oh, /good/!" the cat looks visibly relieved and he chuckles, "I was hoping you wouldn't be a servant of King Barracuda-face, you seemed too nice for that. But then again, sometimes you can never tell." Terry is a cat, and if a cat can look at a King, a cat can certainly call him names, as well. "I know Arthur, lovely man, would definitely make for the better king. Even if he at times can be a little... gruff, but I prefer /that/ in a king than..." He tries to put words around how he feels about Namor. "Slippery and cold. Like a sea cucumber." A mischievous grin breaks across his face and he winks, "I hope I haven't scandalized you. I know there are certain protocols to be observed... but as I am not an Atlantean, I feel myself at liberty to break them in regard to. Well. Namor."
Jackson Hyde	Kal takes in a deep breath and gives a /glare/ to Terry when he speaks of Namor. A light tightening of the jaw punctuates the look. But anyone who is an observer of people can see him fighting not to laugh. "Namor is /not/ a barracuda face. A barracuda is a noble hunter and a fierce warrior." Kal closes his eyes for a moment and intones somberly, "He looks more like an anglerfish." Then the faux-anger passes and the real Kal -- a swimmer, a lover, an explorer, a liver of life -- shows throw with a smile and glittering eyes. "You must walk near the sea very often, Cheshire cat, to know of so many Atlanteans. Not many of the air breathers know of us except through myth and legend."
Terry O'Neil	The cheshire laughs and leans forward a little, standing on tiptoe, "Anglerfish... ooh, I have to remember that sometime! Well, it so happens that I move in unusual circles." He gestures to his uniform, "This isn't just because it's flattering, you know, I'm part of a group not unlike the one Arthur is in. We have an Atlantean in it, so I have had my own exposure to Atlanteans- some of their magic. Their bravery. Their speed. Their endurance." He settles back down to the ground, "I take it you are freshly arrived? I would have imagined Arthur would have told me a new Altantean was around last time I talked to him. Mind you, that was a month or so ago- I need to touch base with him." He decides to sit down, to talk more comfortably. He sits on the sand and pats an empty space next to him, "I do spend a lot of time here, though. My team lives there-" he points towards the silhouette of the T-shaped tower in the distance.
Jackson Hyde	Kal smiles warmly and sits in the sand close enough to Terry that some might find that distance uncomfortable, as though perhaps Atlanteans don't have the same sense of personal space as typical surface dwellers. He smells of sand and salt and mussels. "I graduated from the Conservatory some months ago, but have been on my Great Swim. I do not yet know what I will do with myself. I presented myself before Arthur and pledged myself to his service. He introduced me to some of his friends, who are called the Justice League." The teen nods with satisfaction. "I like the name. Justice League." It wouldn't be difficult to see from his expression and from the glitter in his eyes as he says the name that this is a creature of honor and justice.
Terry O'Neil	"Oh, I know the League- a great bunch. I am friends with Wonder Woman-" a moment of reflection, and then he suddenly chuckles, "Would you listen to me? Two years ago, I wouldn't have even /thought/ of uttering those words!" If the proximity bothers him, he doesn't show it. Felines are famous for having no personal space- or a personal bubble of two hundred feet, depending on their moods. Even if Kaldur is wet, he doesn't shy away. "Your magic must be strong, I can imagine, as a graduate. I have seen some Atlantean magic at work. And you look to be strong- you probably are crazy fast, too." He chuckles, and says rather playfully, "You Atlanteans know how to give a guy an inferiority complex. Almost every one of you I've seen is this... like, perfect: strong, handsome, magical /and/ you can breathe underwater. I would /love/ to be able to breathe underwater and explore! Under the sea--" he almost breaks into song, before realizing that Kaldur is probably not familiar with the song, so instead he speaks it, "I have heard that life is better, under the sea."
Jackson Hyde	As Terry speaks, one might get the impression that the speed at which he speaks and the terminology he uses is confusing Kal. It's not that Kaldur'ahm is stupid. On the contrary, he is the graduate of a prestigious magical academy. But his knowledge of English is primarily academic and he has not yet mastered its idiosyncrasies, slangs, and colloquialisms. So he sits politely, watching Cheshire cat intently, and observing. "I do not believe that life under the sea is better, Cheshire cat. Especially around Atlantis, where society is cruel and selfish and petty." He shakes his head. "No. I came here to find another way to live. My hope is that air breathers are not so treacherous as Atlanteans." Boy is he in for a fucking surprise.
Terry O'Neil	Oh boy. A naive, fresh-eyed boy from the sea with a head full of illusions. Should he let him find out on his own? The Cheshire cat thinks for a second, and then he reaches over and puts an arm around Kaldur's shoulders. "Weeeeell. One thing I'll say about that, Kaldur'ahm: people are people, and every person is an individual. You are going to find rotten ones- that's the ones the League defends the world from, bad ones, ones who go back and forth between good and bad because they are messes, those who are consistently good, and then you have those who are just the best. Like Wonder Woman. Or Superman. Far be it from me to tell you everybody is the same up here or anywhere... so," he squeezes a shoulder, "Just keep that in mind. There are barracudas, anglerfish, clownfish and all sorts of others in this dry ocean too." He leans in, pretending to be conspiratorial, "But I'll tell you a little secret: I'm one of the awesome ones," he winks, to indicate he is joking.
Jackson Hyde	Okay for sure Atlantean boundaries are not the same as surface dweller boundaries. When Cheshire cat leans in close, Kal reaches up and rubs his soft fingertips along some of the fur on the cat boy's face. It's not -- at least from his perspective -- a sexual or mating thing. He is just uninhibited by surface social conventions and is really curious what it feels like. One social convention that the good-natured Atlantean does understand is humor. He is an infamous joker and prankster. His face erupts into a beautiful, beaming smile -- a touch of Ocean's Beauty that few on land possess. "I will choose to believe you, Cheshire cat, but my heart tells me that you are a trouble."
Terry O'Neil	"Then I would say, Mister Kaldur'ahm, that you are a man of unusual and penetrating perception!" he says, leaning into the rub obligingly. It's cat thing. Then he raises an eyebrow, captivated by a smile that could rival his own, "Hey, would you like to get a taste of some surface food? I know a /terrific/ pizza place." He glances down at Kaldur, and then places a hand on his arm, sliding a finger along a bicep and then holding a glistening fingertip up to show the Altantean: "However, it's one of those no shirt, no shoes, no service places, and they prefer their guests to be dry. I can lend you some flip flops and you can towel off at my apartment, and we can run off for some pizza. I guarantee you, it's almost a religious experience!" He stands up and grins, "What do you say?" It /was/ the best pizza in Metropolis. And the Titans had a standing discount for being regulars.
Jackson Hyde	The Atlantean stands. He is always hungry. It's the Law. "Yes but you must promise me no bread. Arthur gave me something called a bratwurst and it was wrapped in a most disgusting wrapper he called bread." He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the memory. He has lived his entire life in the sea. He has never eaten bread, and his body is probably very poorly suited to processing it. He might have one of the worst cases of gluten intolerance around.