Page 1447

~~((The 12 Pages of Christmas + Double Monday = Page 1 of 14))~~
It wasn’t the first time that Diego had heard the Hun’Sho talk to him about dancing. It seemed to be a big thing with them. “Sure,” he said. “Not to toot my own horn ‘r anything, but back in Aguarey, I was known as the Red Typhoon in all the night clubs.”

Hirkosa’s molten face looked more confused than impressed. “A typhoon is a type of surface world storm, no?”

“Yeah.”

“What does a storm have to do with dancing?”

“I could tell you,” said Diego, “but wouldn’t it be better if I showed you?”

Another Hun’Sho woman by the name of Lerinki leaned over the table. “Please do!” She touched his hand with her magma-covered one.

In his head, Diego screamed in agony. Even through his passive soul-defense, it felt like he’d just spilled boiling coffee on himself. But he didn’t let it show on his face at all. He was a transfiguration user. Pain was second nature to him.

He still found it difficult to respond immediately, however.

To her credit, Lerinki realized her mistake after a second and recoiled. “Oh! I am so sorry! I forgot myself for a moment! Did that hurt?!”

He laughed it off. “Don’t worry! I’m fine! Though I appreciate the concern!”

Both of the Hun’Sho women were staring at his charred and half-melted lump of a hand.

Yangéra invoked the regeneration for him. ‘Diego is fine, but you should be more careful around regular surface-dwellers,’ she said. ‘You could very easily kill one of them. They’re quite fragile.’

When Diego and the others had first discovered that the Hun’Sho could both see and hear reapers, it had come as quite the surprise. None of them were servants, as far as he knew, but apparently that didn’t matter. The explanation that the reapers had provided was that the Hun’Sho were a race of people who had ardor fused into their very beings. And as such, a Hun’Sho’s “soul” was considered quite different to that of other races. Somehow.

Diego hadn’t gotten much clarification on that point. Not that he’d cared all that much in the first place. Their culture interested him more than their biology or whatever it was.

“I am so, so sorry!” said Lerinki. “I will be sure to be careful in the future!”

“Lerinki, you fool!” said Hirkosa. “Why did you not remove your coat first?!”

Diego cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Oh, you are right!” said Lerinki, and she continued to apologize, even as her molten hands began to peel back. The magma, that had thus far maintained the impossibly smooth contours around her hands without dripping at all, suddenly flowed back up her arm to reveal the much more familiar gray skin beneath.

She touched Diego’s hand again, and this time it felt quite cool--cooler, even, than the Hun’Kui women he had met back in Babbadelo. “Wow,” he marveled, “I didn’t know you could do that.”