#akeliath

@carvedfromlivingstone

People were staring. Which was rude of them. Had they never seen a man walking through the halls without shoes before? Wasn’t this supposed to be a magical safe haven? They should know some Magicks preferred not to wear shoes as it disconnected them from the world around them. It put him more on edge than he already was, walking through the narrow, stone hallways.

“Excuse me,” he said in his thick accent, grabbing a boy by the arm who gave him an easy grin. Akela did not care for his smiles, but he could smell the magic on him, and that was why he had chosen him.

“Can you tell me where Professor Calaban is?” 

He had heard from the Prince that the mighty gargoyle had been struck by one of those magic stealing arrows, which caused him great concern. The gargoyle was ancient and wise, equally as powerful as Akela, if not moreso. If this hunter was so skilled as to take him down, they could overpower a werewolf easily. (Though, not the entire pack, which Akela had thought of, thank you.)

“Oh, yeah, uhh--I think if you just--go up that staircase over there, he’s on the third floor? I’ve never had his class but my friend does! That should be right.”

“Thank you.”

“No prob!” the boy said and wiggled passed him down the hallway.

Akela found the door not long after that. It had his name on the outside of it, and he was inside, Akela could hear him shifting about. He raised his knuckles and rapt on the half-open door, and then pushed it open to reveal himself.