#insidesanity

A rather rough looking young man with short sandy brown hair and an angular face poked his square bristle covered chin through a crack in the door.

“Uh… hello? I was sent to get an angel feather. Is there anyone here?”

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Under normal circumstances, Castiel would not be tied down to a particular location, preferring to keep moving in efforts to accomplish as much as possible for a particular mission. This day, however, he had arranged to meet with his Mate for a rare evening of quality time in one of her various hideouts. He was early; standing stock still in the center of the living room while half tuning in to Angel Radio as his brethren prattled on about their various grievances.

A small twitch worked in his shoulders as he blinked back into the present moment. The door was opening. This was odd, as Flippitin’s hideouts were warded heavily against outsiders, only allowing a set list of people to freely come and go.

The Angel squinted, reflexively drawing his wings in closer to his back - not that normal Humans could have seen them - and tried to puzzle out the very forward request.

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@insidesanity​

This was why Samuel loved the headmaster, he not only played the game, he played it well. It was always a pleasure to cross minds with the old man, it was a pity he refused immortality, and he was one of the few people whose wishes Samuel did not want to go against.

Samuel nodded and smiled.

“Of course headmaster, I forget myself, it has been to long since I have last held your company. I vould be very amenable to a trade of minds or perhaps fa-” the vampire paused and looked out at the children in the hall. There was some pushing and shoving at the Ravenclaw table and soon a lone student, perhaps in their fourth year, was ushered up out of his seat. Samuel raised a brow as the student took a deep breath and walked up to the head table. With mild curiosity he watched as the child came up to the headmaster, or perhaps him, it was hard to tell as he stood between the two of them as if undecided on his course of action.

Samuel looked at the child with both brows raised now, an air of indifference and lordliness seeping from him, and spoke a single word.

“Yes?”

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The Headamaster’s spectacles glinted softly in the Great Hall’s magical illumination. He’d caught the approach of the teenager in his peripherals, though he chose to politely keep eye contact with his esteemed guest until the last second. Dumbledore was acutely aware of each student in both name and reputation within the walls of Hogwarts, and this Ravenclaw in particular was known to be both startlingly perceptive and quite socially anxious. As such, it must have taken a great deal of courage to even stand up from his table to begin with. His voice seemed to catch in his throat at being addressed.

“Go on, my boy. It’s quite alright.” Dumbledore prompted kindly. “What is on your mind, Mr. Webber?”

The Ravenclaw stiffened his posture a bit. His eyes fell to the floor, feeling rather foolish as the entire staff was now gazing down the table at him. He couldn’t very well just go back to his seat.

“Er... w-well, you see... sir...” he began, looking up at Sam with an intense expression of false confidence. “We have a paper coming due on Vampires for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Some of the questions concerning mirrors, keyholes, and transfiguration leave a lot to interpretation considering the texts are rather vague. They only cover a very general description in a blanket sense. You seem to be a... worldly man. Perhaps you could advise us on lesser known aspects of Vampiric abilities and, er... shortcomings. All for theory, of course. Purely educational.”

"Atren, I need you to settle a dispute."

Without preamble, Flip appeared perched on a water faucet and waited for her friend to notice her. Was she in the kitchen? A bathroom? A dungeon with plumbing? Who could say!

"So IF a person is both Werewolf AND Vampire... DOES THE MAMMEL within one cancel itself out, thereby making it necessary to lay eggs for reproductive purposes? And are these potential eggs indeed poisonous?"

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@insidesanity

(I I don’t know how to respond to this without it sounding like a cheap dollar store twilight fanfic knockoff. Everything sounds sucky. This also might be because of the monster drink plus vodka plus second monster drink plus port plus chocolate. XD I’ve made Great life choices!)

The mist in the wolf’s mind cleared slightly  as sinew and bone knotted together like puzzle pieces. The red haze still clouded her vision but it was enough to realize that whatever being the was feeding her was doing it if their own free will. The magic that pumped through the blood was intoxicating, more euphoric than any mere mortal’s blood could ever be. Near addicting the  feeling of euphoria fought with the base instincts of self preservation.

Then the glistening dome shattered.

The large cybrid’s fists came crashing through the sparkling shield and into the monsters stomach, shooting the small fae from her mouth.   instincts taking hold once again Atren latches onto the large fist with the fervor of a beast enraged and starved and refuses to let go.

The cybrid cries in pain and shakes its fist to no avail. Frustrated the king brings his hand toward his mouth ready to scrape the offending creature.

This proved to be a mistake. The wolf monster  detached itself from he giant hand and threw itself upon the giant candy monster’s throat, gnashing its teeth as  sachrinne blood pooled from the throats of the screaming king.

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((Pffahaha! Well, it’s not sucky, but I feel for your brain after monster and vodka mixture))

Within the gnashing jaws of her healing friend, Flip grunted and squeaked, propping her feet against the ridged roof of her mouth to keep from sliding down into her throat. Her glow lit the interior enough to aid in bearing her location and how much blood Flip was losing.

A thick rush of stagnant air propelled her tiny form hard from Atren’s mouth with an off-key jingle. She skidded and flopped like a rag doll through the powdery soil. Vision slightly blurred from the rapid blood loss, she set to work closing up her wounds, wishing with a wry chuckle that she had popcorn available to watch the mighty prize fight.

The ground trembled from the force of heavy blows. Carnage. Gore. Sounds like Atren’s usual Saturday night, Flip thought. As the freshly rend metallic flesh plopped and squelched into the cascading blood fountain pumping into the dirt, Flip scooted back to avoid further bodily fluids. Not that she wasn’t already covered in a plethora of gross substances.

Music thumped loud enough to shake glitter particles across the glossy black table. It stuck in moist rings from condensation from her martini glass. Flip took a sip and scanned the room. Atren would be coming in anytime now. For most, it would be difficult to see through the strobe lights to recognize a face, but Flip could spot the familiar Heart Signature like a beacon through the throng of bodies on the dance floor. To ensure that her find would spot her just as easily through the scent of sweat and pheromones, the Fairy nipped the tip of her tongue just enough to bead some violet blood. She rimmed her friend’s glass with the liquid and sat it carefully next to her own.

She’d found out through various ill Dreams of Humans that the owner of this particular club had been running a dog fighting ring in the basement. Pets from the surrounding cities were being stolen and tossed in the ring with dogs specifically mistreated to become killing machines. There was no redemption for some folks. They could be food as far as she was concerned.

“Thought you might like a drink before dinner.” Flip greeted.

@insidesanity

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@insidesanity

Sam, the count, smiled, showing his all too pointy to the boy. He leaned forward slightly and said a short affirming, and terrifying, statement.

“Close, so very close, but technically correct.” The count retrieved the pen and in flourishing cursive wrote his full title and passed the paper back.

Vlad III Dracula, son of Vlad II Dracul, of house Draculesti of the House Basarab Branch. Former Voivode of Wallachia. Also known as Vlad Tepes’.

The man leaned back in his chair and folded his hands politely on the table.

“You forgot ‘the Third’, among other things. My alias is…incorrect and none of your concern.”

He held out his hand slowly, saying; “My pen, if you please, young man. I vill see you tonight, an owl vill be sent with a location chosen by the headmaster, vhere, accompanied by a professor, you may ask me questions…unless you wish to do so alone?”

the boy shook his head vehemently As he held out the pen shakily. As he turned quickly to go he found his hand held by the count’s, pen in between his warm sweaty palm And cold dead flesh.

“I would prefer if my name vould not spread and echo through the halls. Vhile I admire your tenacity, and commend your bravery, I must tarnish your victory by reminding you of hubris, and the dangers of boasting.” He let got slowly of the boy’s hand as he finished his warning. “You may tell your friends what I am if you wish, and I promise no harm will come to you by my hand for the knowledge you now carry for as long as you are under this school’s and the headmaster’s care.“ His hand free the boy nodded and rushed back to his seat while the count ripped up the note and put the remains in a pocket. He was sure the young man would figure out the hinted at threat. What was 4-5 years to an immortal after all? Although he doubted he’d have to follow through on the threat. … or perhaps he might, he looked at the student pensively. The boy could make a good vampire in 10 or so years. He leaned back and with a sidelong glance at the headmaster pretended to sip from a glass of water. "Clever boy there Albus, I don’t suppose you have a professor to spare for the interview tonight? My apologies for pushing this on you but I realized as I spoke that an unaccompanied minor left unattended with someone of my persuasion could perhaps damage the reputation of your school. This is of course to speak nothing of the young man’s ability to ask questions in a state of terror. Who would you recommend?” As he spoke he tapped gently on the headmaster’s mind, and outside the metaphorical door of his thoughts whispered of his own. “"I would so like to have the potions master attend, the man has so much pent up anger and stress I believe that a mind game may lend itself to redirecting that. And if it just so ends up in him throwing spells it may just work a little of the stress off. It would also do wonders for his reputation if some students just happened to see him ‘chase the monster away’ as it were… unless that delicious astronomy professor is still here and has perhaps lessened her grudge towards me for breaking that telescope during out last encounter? Or if Minerva has grown a sense of humor since I scared one of her 9 lives away as a wolf?”“ Samuel seriously doubted either were true but he could dream, both women were very enticing. A witch who loved the night sky and another who scratched the snout of the wolf that woke her. So strong willed Minerva was, and magic blood was so enticing. He licked his lips as if they were dry, but Samuel could feel his mouth and veins whisper with hunger.

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The boy swallowed, visibly shaken by the smooth candor of the count who bore such fearsome undertones in every calculated motion. As a child, he’d often been told that running from a predator would only incite an excitement for chase. He stood as still as he was able until he’d been released, but gave a resolute nod of understanding the vampiric fellow’s warning as he was told. At his House’s table, he could be seen shaking his head to refuse the questions of his peers. Possibly he was trying to determine how many days were left of his protection within the school.

If the Headmaster was perturbed by Sam’s veiled threats against the youth, he showed no outward indication of it. He gently gestured to the room at large to continue with the evening’s feast. The show was over.

“I agree. I expect he’ll make a fine individual with a zeal for self preservation once he’s grown.” Albus smiled, peering over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s a splendid idea, Samuel. Certainly it would cause a great deal of gossip if you’d conducted such an interview here in the Great Hall, and children do have such wild imaginations when they’re only vaguely informed. A private meeting with a staff chaperone will surely alleviate a great many tensions.”

He stroked his snowy beard and took a slow draft of mulled wine from his ornate goblet. 

Ah, yes. Severus has a keen mind. Quite prone to anger and anxiety, but never the one to be baited into altercations without proper motivation. I expect that Professor Trelawney would prove a bit too dreamy in these days to provide adequate entertainment for your own mind. Minerva... well. I expect she would find it humorous to light your trousers on fire, if that is what you mean~ Albus projected within his mind.

“Professor Snape has no further classes this evening as far as I am aware. Perhaps he would indulge us both by attending this interview after our conversation concerning your Ward?” the Headmaster prompted. “Severus?”

Snape looked up from his untouched food as if he hadn’t been straining to listen in the entire time. Rather than argue, the potion master gave a curt nod. While he kept an eternal visage of general irritation, he would be lying if he were to say he was disinterested in what would come of the questioning.