#gremlin behavior

Silver

Doesn’t affect them one bit. I mean, shoot, just look at all of Paul and Dwayne’s rings, all silver, and they’re fine.

However

When Paul first turned, he didn’t know this and Marko and Dwayne took this to their advantage to do some shenanigans.

Wouldn’t you know that Marko found some old hotel silver serveware in the depths of the cave.

He spent many a moon in Paul’s first week as a vampire, convincing him that they could not touch silver, lest it should burn them. He then proceeded to locate blowtorch.

He found some massive old pliers (also found in the depths of the ruined hotel—thank you hotel maintenance staff of the past), and devised an eeeeeevil brotherly plan.

One night, they brought some ‘guests’ to the cave, and right before they were about to ‘dig in’ as it were, Marko set his plan to action.

From the far reaches of the cave, Marko emerges with a tray of goblets that are so aged, that they aren’t shiny silver anymore. HE HAS BLOWTORCHED ONE OF THEM.

“Here Pauly! Since you’re still kinda new to this, we’ll give you a sippy-cup. Catch!” And because Marko wears gloves, and could give a pigeon’s butt about sustaining a small burn on his fingertips in the pursuit of chaos, he launches the cup at Paul. Paul catches it in both hands, and drops it in searing pain.

One of the mortals they brought for dinner (who is stoned off their ass) is casually like “oh that must be some old silver serveware—you guys said this was an old and fancy hotel once, right?”

And Paul is like “WHAT THE FFFFFF!!??!! MAGIC IS REAL. OMFG MY HANDS.”

Meanwhile, Marko is in the back of the scene laughing his ass off with Dwayne.

“No,” Lucanis answered, that sentiment enough to garner an immediate answer. Rook wasn’t sure exactly how he knew Spite was pouting. Perhaps the way his presence grew denser, heavy in his thoughts.

“We. Could. Eat them!” Spite repeated, determination and petulance a sweetly childish combination. Lucanis shook his head firmly.

“Trust me, no.” His reiteration was sharper, frustration apparent, though Emmrich chuckled.

“I pray he believes you.”

“I -” Rook’s desire to tease was strong, and nearly let the words slip before correcting himself. “Sorry, what?”

“Spite asked if those self-lighting candles are good to eat.”

Except maybe to Lucanis’s stomach, if he followed through on those desires. Now that it was spoken aloud, he could laugh.

“Oh. I wouldn’t recommend it,” Rook implored. “When I was a kid, one of my mom’s candles was cinnamon and sugar. Why wouldn’t I want to eat that? Turns out wax gets stuck in your teeth and somehow tastes like both soap and calf’s foot jelly. Yuck.”

“Sometimes you say things that appear unwell, and yet suit you implicitly,” Lucanis mentioned, still that tone that made an insult indistinguishable from fact.

“Glad to be so illuminating,” Rook tossed over his shoulder, not lingering long enough to see eyes roll.