#hpcollectiveopen

Perhaps she was just hungry, Verlie eyed the person who perch themselves at the end of her table, all raw thick lines and eyes like a cow - placid and weak. They’d make a terrible hunt, a worse feed, and a piss poor feature in her bed.

“You don’t think you’ve got a chance, do you?” Verlie hummed as she poured herself another shot, “Fuck off.” The vampire grinned as the person slunk off, head down, a hard flush on their cheeks when she felt eyes, Verlie shot a sideways smile at the onlooker.

“Now you,” she crooked a finger, “well, you certainly have a chance with those pretty eyes of yours. Why don’t you join me?”

“Watch it! We’ve got a patient on here…” scolded a man’s voice.

Oz groaned into consciousness, and opened his eyes to find himself peering up into a very pretty, dark gaze that was full of light; a night sky twinkling with stars. Black brows were furrowed with concern over smooth caramely skin, the faded line of a scar bisecting the one on Oz’s left. Oz had a thought that these were probably the most beautiful eyes he’d ever woken up to, and at roughly the same moment, he became aware that he was laying down on an actual fuckin’ flying carpet that was moving through the air, wearing literal strips of clothing that left very little to imagination.

“M’I in gay heaven?” Oz tried to say, but found that his throat throbbed horribly and seized up when he tried to push sound through it. So what actually ended up coming out sounded more like the croak of a frog, and was roughly equivalent to, “Mmmahggvnnnn??”

Admittedly, not among Oz’s smoother entrance lines. Yet even so, the stranger hovered over him lit up like Oz had just delivered the King’s Speech and said, “Brilliant, you’re awake—my name is Oliver Bandaru and I’m an Emergency Healing Technician…” Oz made yet another ghastly sound and tried to shift to sit up, but the EHT eased him back down with a firm, gentle hand. “…please, don’t try to talk—you’ve been the victim of an attack and have sustained injuries that require immediate medical attention. You are currently being transported to the Walks of Life Clinic in the Den of Magic in Liverpool…”

Oz blinked at the beautiful angel of a man in a way that he hoped conveyed his intended message of, I’ll gladly play your Princess Jasmine for as long as ya like… 

Tragically, ‘as long as you like’ turned out not to be very long at all; the carpet took a sharp dive into the mouth of a cave (Aladdin references abound), and after a number of vertigo-inducing dips and turns, they landed. 

And honestly, much of the next bit was a blur, as Oz was maneuvered into some kind of makeshift hospital (certainly not the swanky wizard’s one where he’d met Piper and Loxley after the latter had collapsed in Chelsea) where he was subsequently poked, prodded, examined, probed (and not in the way Oz would have liked), and made to write down answers to a series of questions on a little dry-erase board about who he was, how he’d come to be in this state, what blood- or Being-status he most identified with, what he remembered about the past few hours, and who—if anyone—needed to be contacted as to his whereabouts. 

And finally he was smeared with various pungent salves, swathed in a hospital gown (to Oz’s chagrin), and offered a rainbow assortment of delightful pharmaceutical potions—which Oz gulped down eagerly, despite still feeling like his throat had been sat on by an elephant. 

And then, he had to wait.

It was very difficult to tell how much time was passing when you were in hospital; Oz may have dozed off more than once before a familiar face, at last, entered the room (more like stall, really—with flimsy bed-curtains and everything). 

He’d been advised to limit talking, for now, so in lieu of a greeting, Oz just raised up a hand to flash the visitor one palm reading ‘HELLO.’ 

No, Justin needed a break. So he fireproofed the house with haphazard Charms, a class he barely passed, then walked to Maekos. Only to find it empty - fine no matter. Justin had other friends.

Which was why he was sitting, eating an ice-cream cone and conversing with a crow who seemed intent to tell him about the shiniest penny he picked up the other day. Deep into the conversation only he could hear, Justin hardly noticed someone sitting beside him. He offered a smile, and wave, “Hullo, nice day right?”