"You're awfully chipper today, Hastur..." Istasha's voice was saccharine and husky as she inched into the King of Yellow's space. While she preferred the Dread One, there was something about this deranged creature that she also found appealing. It was simple really. They both showcased different executions of power, authority, and danger. Whereas Cthuhlu in her experience often left her toeing the lines of an eternal blackness, Hastur tempted her with images of pure gold. A kingdom completely plated in gilt? It didn't seem so bad, considering she could easily get a seat in this new world with... well, her feminine nature.

Hastur, spinning about as was expected, kept their eyes upon the female as they waltzed around her like some captured fly. Whether Istasha felt the intended confinement in her heart was unknown as her otherwise ambivalent visage remained so. "Glee in my heart doth glow, though upon my mind a question grows. What does this One seek, having come to a King of the deep?" They halted briefly in their dance, leaning towards Istasha with eyes akin to the sun's intensity. They eyed the small capped shroom upon her withers long enough to see the red, beady eyes of the thing glower back at them before drawing away. With a clack of hooves, they spun away, offering a compelling glance over their sanguine touched shoulder.

There was no hiding intention from Hastur, Istasha knew this to be true. Others may question his sanity, and she could admit it was threadbare, but there was a cunning behind the performance and rhymes, one she long knew to respect lest she wish to inspire his ire. "A storm draws near, one of deep shadows and gold. I simply seek a pardon into the latter, if it extinguishes the darkness."

Yellow eyes slit and a toothy grin stretched at the King's lips. "A pardon into the Kingdom of Yellow, to join all gilded fellows. Ah! Ha! Such a price can be considered steep, not to be provided to the weak. What makes the Mistress so worthy, that I may show her this kind of mercy?" Not unlike a predator, they stalked back toward Istasha. They were not as herculean as Cthuhlu but still held an advantage over the bespeckled mare. There was a hunger in their eyes, one she assumed hadn't been sated in some time... She almost scoffed. Previously she may have thought this transaction would take more finesse... but for the pleasure-seeking Hastur? She should have known better.

"A child." She posed simply, straightening her stance to showcase some of her effeminate beauty. Whether they knew it was spore-given wasn't necessary...

A guffaw erupted from Hastur's maw as their head threw back. "Spawn I have already, a daughter with no need of a belly. To wait for another when she is so perfect, I must only say that I object."

So... Hastur already found a little princess... Istasha's gaze dropped momentarily, scanning the compact dirt floor. Mushrooms and fungi clung to the corners of the space and to her they whispered. Her harks twisted and orbited, listening to the quiet cacophony. Then her gaze flicked back up, and her grin deepened. Even Hastur noted the change in the Mistress' aura, a hark perked forward.

"Just one is enough?" Her words were low, skirting a dangerous line. It was a gamble, her plan. Though, when the storm inevitably comes, she refuses to be lost in the debris. "And how would you protect her? Their parent? You are here alone. I do not even see your little one. Who is to promise her safety?"

Hastur visibly bristled, their lips pulling back in a snarl. "Do you threaten the King's crowned daughter? Do you so easily throw yourself to slaughter?"

"No, but I offer her protection. A sibling, one that is strong... If anything, a shield."

Silence falls between them as the two dungeonborne Coursers stare at one another. Until, finally, Hastur raises his head, the snarl leaving his lips. "An agreement has been made, and now you have a debt to be paid."