Fantasy Hotel Tussen Vanderheim (Open - Jump in!)

[Malhyanth]

Bones laughed heartily as the demon used him as a threat, but he stood, and slouched against Fyren, red eyes in a mock-hard stare with a sharp grin plastered on his face as he leant an elbow against the demon's shoulder and waggled a finger at the girl with a "tut-tut" sound. He his his chuckling behind one of his hands, and watched the exchange, before he was addressed directly, and he jumped to attention, saluting the demon.


"Yessir, don't 'ave to tell me twice!! Dinner is on me! Quite literally I zhink, as I brought it in and djou 'ave not paid me yet!" His jovial wink and grin was punctuated with a sly tongue poke as he turned and marched himself out of the library. It was the one room in the whole building that Wy'Ziot had to say he didn't feel wholly comfortable in. Surrounded in scribbles he'd never managed to pick up, even with Rosalind's guiding hand, he felt better in his workshop-come-bedroom, the lounge, the dining hall, even the kitchens, helping himself to ingredients and a bowl or saucepan! The grounds was where he was most comfortable, and he knew he'd be going out there to do some work soon.


"So..." The werewolf peered over his shoulder at the demon as they exited the realm of the written word. "Vhat do djou make of zhe little guest. She's cute, sure. Seems unvilling to accept my 'elp, eh?" He seemed genuinely confused as to why she wouldn't let him help, but it didn't affect him too much, and soon he was grinning amicably. He considered the Demon a friend, even if Fysen honestly believed him to be nothing but a pain. 

 

[poppet]

Violet turned at the sound of the demon's voice, vibrant eyes moving between him and the werewolf. Werwolf made more sense she supposed. It was what the demon said after that that caused her to blink in surprise. Wy'Ziot didn't eat people... right? Still, that demon was awfully rude. What did it matter to him what she did with a book? She wasn't going to use it for a fire. But as she watched him hold the book close, she wondered if there was something more to that grimoire. Sure enough, it was one of the 'few books' he seemed to consider too special to leave the library.


The pair were moving off, likely to the kitchen or dining hall, and Violet blinked back at the desk where the grimoire sat. She was going to ask the demon what made the book so important. She waged a battle in her mind then. To take the book anyway, or to leave the book. It sounded like a pretty bad idea to take it. She was in a supernatural den of sorts and didn't even know what the demon was. What if he morphed into a dragon and gobbled her up? That sounded ridiculous. Violet moved towards the book, staring down at it mischievously. Finally she exhaled in exasperation and hung her head.

She pulled the chair out and sat her things down, moving about to find more paper. Surely she had a little bit more time before she needed to be in the safety of her room. For now, she'd do the best she could to recreate the writings from the grimoire. Every now and then she'd begin to feel agitated that she not only had to remain here and copy these things, but that the book had at some point been damaged enough to ruin a vast majority of the spells inside. But for some reason, her mind kept wandering back to that demon and the way he held the book and ran his fingers over the cover so gingerly. Why?

Curiously, Violet pushed away from the desk. It felt like she'd been sitting there for an eternity, and her hand hurt. She walked to the back corner where the demon had his books stacked in a semicircle. She picked up one and looked at the cover, and then another, curious to know if there was a rhyme or reason to them or if they'd say anything about the demon. If this was the rumored castle, wouldn't that make it at least 500 years old? How old were the werewolf and demon? She'd heard of many supernaturals having immortality, but those were all just folklore, she thought.

Lost in her own curious thoughts, Violet startled at the sound of someone behind her. She stood and turned to face a being she'd not before seen. "Rosalind?" the man questioned, obviously taken aback. Violet frowned deeply for a few reasons. One, she was caught off guard by a being of this castle, and two, he'd called her by a name of her ancestor. "You're mistaken," she said. "I'm Violet." The other, was vampire. It wasn't obvious to Violet in the least. He had long dark hair and pale skin. He held himself with sophistication. She wouldn't know that he was Lord Vanderheim, the vampire who'd been missing for hundreds of years, in the flesh.

He knew she wasn't Rosalind. Their scents were different. Plus, Rosalind had died... The vampire was frowning at Violet, not in a dangerous way, but more of a curious one. She was the spitting image of Rosalind, down to the 'V' shaped birthmark on her cheekbone. All the while he thought, he'd gingerly reached forward to rub his thumb over the mark. Violet frowned and opened her mouth to scold him on touching strangers, when the door to the library opened again. She looked towards the sound, but when she looked back, the man was gone and she was left standing in the semi circle of books alone.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


Fyren mostly ignored the werewolf when it leaned against him and waggled his finger at the girl, as if to emphasis Fyren's threat of letting him eat her. A last warning look of those silver eyes was given to that human before the demon and wolf made their exit. Fyren's wings twitching a bit, in irritation mostly, he did want that girl out of the castle as quickly as possible, but that was only one of many things on his mind. As Wy'ziot spoke and glanced over his shoulder to the demon behind him, Fyren offered a slight shrug. "I do not like her." The words were stated simply, matter-of-factly.


"She looks too much like Rosalind and I hate her for that." Fyren knew very well that the girl had no control over how she looked, but that didn't make it any easier. He inhaled deeply, a deep sigh. "She will only cause trouble for us, I would ask you to return her to her village as soon as possible. Or take her into the woods and devour her heart. I care not how you deal with her, so long as she never returns." There was a frown on Fyren's lips, and his brow was creased a bit. "If you must be paid for that service as well, add it to the tab. Gods know we owe you plenty already." One hand clenched into a tight fist for a moment, but then Fyren's expression cleared. That hand relaxed.


His pace quickened a bit, until he was walking next to the werewolf. "I do appreciate all you do for us. Even if payment is lacking." The words were spoken with sincerity and then that demon quickened his pace again. Pulling ahead of the werewolf and intending to maintain that distance all the way to the dinning hall.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry @poppet


The werewolf considered the words of his demon friend, raising his hands to rest behind his head, fingers interlaced, his stomach being revealed as the t-shirt he wore rode up slightly. His face was that of contemplation as he walked along with the demon, thinking back to his childhood as Rosalind's face. She had disappeared so suddenly, and so long ago. Wy'Ziot could barely recall her, but maybe that was why he was drawn to the girl? It all seemed to fall into place! At the mention of being paid, or at least the amount added to his tab, to take her back or devour her, the werewolf laughed, lowering his arms and reaching out to ruffle the grumpy Demon's hair.


"She does look tasty. Nice and plump, juicy." He licked his lips in an animalistic way, and laughed again. He hadn't eaten human in at least a few decades!! There was always that danger they'd escape, or survive, and Wy'Ziot didn't like the idea of causing any mutations. He was a born werewolf, but his bodily fluids were potent because of it, and the change in one turned by a born werewolf was painful, and often killed the human before their first change could fully take place and the increased healing ability set in. "Vyren, djou do make me laugh."


The thank you caught Wy'Ziot off guard, and he stopped a moment, his jaw working, but no words escaping. Had the great, stoic demon, Fyren, just thanked him for helping keep this place going? He noted the demon speed up. It was obvious even to this uncivilised werewolf that the Demon now showed some embarrassment for his words. Usually, this was a moment the werewolf would exploit, and make into a jovial conundrum,  but the way Fyren spoke, there was real feeling in his words. When he finally recovered, he realised the demon was nearly meters ahead of him, so he jogged to catch up.


"I... I do vhat I vill to keep zhis place active, Vyren. It is my 'ome too, sometimes. It reminds me I am not 'olly of zhe vild. Djou 'elp me keep some 'umanity. Rosalind vould be disappointed if I returned to being zhat beast-child she found." Wy'Ziot scratched idly at the white stubble upon his cheek, realising he'd forgotten to shave upon his return. The harsh rasping sound it made filled the silence as they entered the dining hall. Glorious as always, some of those strange maid-girl zombie things were walking about, preparing the table for three.


"Is zhere anozher guest? Or are zhey unavare our little lady friend does not eat vizh us savages?" His chuckle was jovial, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Fyren had both disliked and liked his hair being ruffled, he would be hesitant to admit to liking it, but it wasn't wholly unwelcome when Wy'Ziot had touched him. The demon's wings had twitched a bit, but for the most part Fyren pretended to ignore the touch. Wy'Ziot wasn't wrong though, that girl did look tasty, and though Fyren did prefer to devour mortal hearts, mainly humans, he had refrained from such practice after meeting Rosalind. He was sure he wouldn't be able to bring himself to take that girl's heart anyway, she resembled Rosalind far to much.


An odd look would be given to the werewolf at the comment of making him laugh, but mostly that remark went ignored. The werewolf's halt went unnoticed, as Fyren had tried his best to keep ahead of the other man, but Wy'Ziot caught up to him quickly. Fyren wasn't too surprised by that, and the werewolf would notice the slightest bit of color tinging that demon's cheeks. It was fading, but the embarrassment had been there, definitely. Fyren's pace slowed just slightly when the wolf spoke. "The doors of this place will ever be open to you, Bones. I dare not disappoint Rosalind's spirit by turning away any she loved." It wasn't just that, he did rather like the presence of the wolf, at times.


Though even surrounded by others, Fyren was a lonely demon. He would always be as such, but to have others around eased the loneliness. "However," That voice lowered to a whisper as they entered the dinning hall. "I fear this castle will not stand much longer, she has some years left in her, but not many." That head turned slightly, silver eyes looking to a crack on the dinning hall ceiling, and to cobwebs in the corners. "She is ever silent, the magic that gave her voice and kept her in good condition is failing." Fyren looked away, a hint of color coming back to his cheeks as he looked to his feet for a moment, his wings twitching with agitation. "I cannot find a solution to this problem."


At the mention of another plate, Fyren quickly looked towards the table that had been set for them. "There may be another within these walls, sometimes it is hard to tell. I am certain we shall find out in due time, and the only savage I see is you." The demon, quickly over his embarrassment at his own failing, smirked briefly at the werewolf before striding confidently towards his place at the table.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


The werewolf draped an arm around the demons shoulders, careful to avoid his delicate wings, but shaking him gently as the demon spoke of not being able to turn away the werewolf. He sniffed at his hair and lifted up his pony tail, playfully, knowing it would irritate the demon.


"Aaaah, demon! Djou just keep me around because zhis place vould be too large and lonely vizhout me!" He laughed as he straightened, and walked around the edge of the table to his seat opposite the demon. He slumped down into it, not realising how tired he was. His eyes followed the demon's to the crack in the ceiling, and he promptly started to frown. "Djou know, 'umans 'ave people skilled in zhis sort of vork. May'ap ve vill 'ave to contemplate stealing one or two to come... stay... vizh us a vhile?"


The werewolf contemplated the crack to the ceiling a little longer, and the cobwebs. It disturbed him to see the building falling into disrepair since Rosalind's, and the Lord's, magics had been removed. He watched the zombie maids going about their business in their strange, slow manner. "Do zhese creatures not bozher to tidy up zhe place?" He asked, his red eyes focusing onto his companion for a moment. At that moment, the waft of food smells started to enter the dining hall. The smell of sizzling steak made Bones moan with appreciation as he looked about for the source.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Fyren made to swat at the werewolf when that arm was draped around him and his hair sniffed at. It was only mildly annoying though. The demon jolted slightly as if shocked with electricity at Wy'Ziot's words. The werewolf wasn't wrong, it was lonely here. Fyren's wings twitched and the demon rolled his silver eyes, quickly hiding any emotion they might have appeared in them with a look of mild annoyance. His wings twitched and wriggled a bit before settling to fold rather close against his back, allowing him to sit more or less comfortably in his chair.


That demon's body tensed as the werewolf mentioned bringing more humans, even if for a good reason. "No. This is not a place for humans." His jaw was tight, it almost seemed like he would say more on the subject of humans, instead he looked at one of the zombie maids. His body relaxing a bit as the food was brought out to them. Sizzling steak for the werewolf, and half cooked, or rather, mostly uncooked rabbit for the demon. The rabbit meat had only been heated long enough to warm it through, just the way Fyren preferred it.


Those silver eyes watched the maids carefully for a few moments. "There are less of them than there used to be, though I once asked one to sweep up cobwebs on the ceiling. It nearly shattered the chandelier in the great hall." Disdain and annoyance passed over his features. "I can fly to the ceiling and wipe them away, but they seem to return rather quickly. It was magic that kept this place from falling apart, and now it is falling apart around my ears." His plate was set before him. Piled high with rabbit, probably one entire rabbit.


Fyren began to eat. Savoring every bite, and eating with all the pristine care of a gentleman.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


The werewolf was not nearly as refined, and the mammoth steak that appeared in front of him was quickly set upon. There were the human additions of potato fries, and some green balls that might be that thing called peas. The werewolf did not mind their inclusion on his meal, and often enjoyed them, but the meat was his main source of enjoyment, and this was what he lifted from his plate in his own hands and tore into with sharp teeth. He growled appreciatively, and a couple of the maids that hung around scurried off swiftly, clearly even the un-living were somewhat concerned by a werewolf growl.


Around a mouthful of steak, he indicated the ceilings and their cobwebs. "Spiders are great pest control, do not kill zhem. 'Owever, I can source some 'erbs zhat vill discourage zhem from nesting up 'igh. I suspect I vill find some in zhe gardens, should zhe veazher be kind tomorrow to go out and tend it." He pursed his lips around his meal, before swallowing and tearing off another large hunk of meat, chewing thoughtfully. "I understand 'ow djou feel about zhe 'umans, but if we are to continue to 'ave a roof over our 'eads, ve must start to consider... civilised options." The way he said the final two words certainly explained his distaste for them; his nose wrinkled, his tongue scrapped across the back of his teeth as though, like a cat, he was trying to dislodge a horrible taste.


Steak devoured, he idly picked up the fries and ate them, slowly, enjoying their salty, fried flavour, but not overjoyed by them. He watched the demon and his practically raw meal of rabbit meat. "Vhy pretend djou don't vant to just dive in, full demon form, on zhat meal. Girly 'as gone to bed, and djou 'ave seen me at my... vildest, shall ve say, on far too many occasions." He leaned forward, over his plate, a mischievous grin to his pale complexion, red eyes glinting. "Come on, drop zhe act, djou're vizh uncivilised company now. 'Eck, zhat moon is calling me, I could 'appily join djou in a more natural feel!" He winked, testing the demon's resolve.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Fyren mostly ignored the way Wy'Ziot ate, instead he focused intently on his own meal, his plate was void of any greens, it only held rabbit meat. He even grimaced slightly when that werewolf spoke with a mouthful of steak. "I do not mind the spiders, I only mind the webs and dust left behind." He did chance a glance at the wolf when it spoke the word 'civilized' and Fyren tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. "Humans are far more barbaric than you, my friend. They only play pretend at being civilized. To invite them here, would be to invite our own demise." Fyren's tone had darkened a bit, and then he was focusing on is own meal again.


His wings twitched, an eyebrow also twitched and once more Fyren looked at the werewolf. "I rather enjoy being a civilized gentleman. Perhaps you should try practicing it more often." Though Fyren seemed to be considering something, as he looked to his half finished meal then back to the werewolf. "It isn't bad to have a modicum of self control." The demon had been considering it, just let loose and be wild and, full demon, as the werewolf had aptly called it. His wings twitched with irritation and he continued to eat in a dignified manner. "Perhaps one day I will show you my, full demon, but not tonight. Tonight there is no reason for it."


Those silver eyes seemed to be hiding something dark as he glanced up once more before quickly looking back to his meal. One of the maids came out, bringing with her a pitcher of water and a pitcher of wine. Another maid followed her with four goblets in hand, two set before Fyren and two set almost hesitantly before the werewolf. Then the maid with the pitchers filled each goblet, one with wine the other with water. The demon waited until the maids had retreated before he lowered his silverware and took the wine goblet in his hand.


He swished the liquid around for a moment, before bringing it to his lips, his eyes closed as he savored the rich taste of the red wine. Fyren's constitution couldn't process food well unless it was raw or practically raw, but his body seemed to have no problems with wine. Granted the demon seemed to have an immunity to getting drunk and too much wine would make him sick to his stomach. He licked his lips as his eyes opened and he set the goblet down, before finishing his meal. Still eating in that dignified way, but perhaps with slightly more demonic gusto.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


Wy'ziot's spiky grin returned to his chiselled, scarred features as he watched his friend enjoy his meal at last. He contemplated the forage list he now had to attend to when the weather was a little


less dull. Lavender, lemon balm, and cedar wood bark, all would help alleviate the spider issues. Getting the demon to spray a boiled down concoction of it, mixed with some colourless, flavourless alcohol, something like vodka, or perhaps if any of the demon's beloved white wine had gone to vinegar. That would certainly do the trick. He leant back, pushing his plate away from him, his stomach aching a little. He'd allowed himself to get far too hungry traipsing the copses and glades of the woodland outside.


Red eyes followed the maids intently, an idle hand raising to push thick strands of dreadlock from his face. He could feel his wolf pushing to be free; the pretty little girl


had awoken him, and made him realise he'd been alone for a fair while himself. These maids were pretty to look at, but he guessed they'd be as dull in his bed as they were going about their duties. Pity. The wolf did appreciate their uniforms... Bones' grin returned as his friend spoke of barbarians and humans.


"Friend, if only djou knew zhe zhoughts in my 'ead!" His laugh was pure and deep, and reverberated around the hall. He picked up the steak knife, thus far untouched beside his plate, and uses it to pry food from between his pointed teeth, especially where his slightly elongated canines sat. He had surprisingly straight teeth for a werewolf; most struggled in their human forms to accommodate the slight variation in formation and shape. Bones always laughed it was because he had a big head, and a big mouth. He was, after all, a bit of a giant, even in born-werewolf circles. His regal nose twitched


as the metal of the sharp knife scrapped against his teeth until he was satisfied he'd removed whatever shred had been stuck.


"Djou know, I vill 'old djou to zhat!" The werewolf once again leaned forward towards the demon, resting on one forearm, the other hand lazily using the knife to gesticulate. Wy'Ziot wasn't aware, but he was really very expressive in his movements, and whenever he had something in his hands, he couldn't help but use it to accentuate a point. He turned in his seat, spreading his legs to sit in a very masculine, strong manner, his bare feet pattering against the floor as his restlessness started to return, especially at the thoughts he was having. "Imagine! Us two, brozhers from zhe castle, running the forest togezher, as ve vere made! Me, zhat vhite volf zhe village folk are all so scared of! Djou... looking like vhatever it is djou look like, tell me! Vhat do djou look like vhen djou aren't playing 'uman?"


Though the dig was playful and accentuated by his cheeky little smirk, the intent was true, and his red eyes held honest interest. Wy'Ziot had never seen his friend as nature had intended. Bones had a lot of strange, almost hippy like ideals, heralding, as he did, from an ancient and very earthly Tribe of werewolves, but he was very open and accepting of all ways, and his friend, Fyren, with his need to appear so proper, was one such way. The werewolf considered the demon the closest he had to family now; his own Tribe had gotten foolish, hunting man, and had perished whilst he was still a young child, no more than 3 or 4. Their teachings, though, were ingrained, and Wy'Ziot respected the forest to the utmost. It fed him, clothed him, and provided all he could ever need, and this castle! 

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Soon Fyren finished his meal of nearly raw meat, and almost delicately wiped his lips with the napkin that sat on the table. Once he was done wiping his mouth, he folded the napkin into a pyramid and set it atop his empty plate. One leg crossed over the other, as Fyren leaned slightly back in his chair, careful of his wings, and once again brought the goblet of wine to his lips. He seemed to almost be contemplating something, as he mostly ignored the way Wy'Ziot picked his teeth with the knife, and then thrust it about when he spoke. Those silver eyes were half closed. "Perhaps I know more than you give me credit for." The demon gave a slight shrug, he honestly didn't know what was in the werewolf's thoughts, he couldn't read minds but he could read people.


His eyes opened, narrowed slightly and Fyren leaned forward towards the wolf. That goblet was returned to the table, and his silver eyes flashed crimson then bright orange, the pupils looking rather reptilian for a moment. It was gone almost in an instant, replaced by silver orbs and rounded pupils. "I get taller." It was a deadpan response, but the smile that touched Fyren's lips was rather vicious looking. His wings twitched a bit. That smile vanished and he leaned back again, gently against his wings. Of course there was more to it than just getting taller, but Fyren felt that an apt response. He honestly didn't mind that Wy'Ziot was a little taller than him, but occasionally it irritated him slightly. Only slightly though.


Fyren could tell the werewolf was truly interested in his demonic appearance though, and slowly the demon uncrossed his legs and stood. He stretched a bit, his wings flaring out behind him and twitching before settling into their usual comfortable position behind him. "My demonic visage is not something to be taken lightly, one day we shall hunt together, and you shall see me in all my terrible glory. Until then you will simply have to remain curious." Fyren's lips twitched the tiniest bit towards a frown, but he was already turning away from the wolf. "I feel it is time for us to retire for the night."


His expression was now contemplative, he could take his true demonic form, but ever since being bound to this mortal realm he was unable to stay in that form for extended periods of time. Before coming to this castle, he had used that form to wreak havoc upon unsuspecting human village after village. Fyren's wings twitched and he began to leave the room. "Good night, Wy'Ziot, may you sleep well." Fyren generally called the werewolf by that name when he was feeling particularly formal or if he were angered at the creature, normally he just called him Bones. Right now, Fyren was not angry, just merely being formal. He even turned towards him to give a half bow before beginning to make his way out.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


The pout upon the werewolf's face was almost comical. For such a scarred, grown man to sulk like a child was hilarious to see, though it seemed his companion was in no mood to laugh with him. Standing also, Wy'Ziot stretched out, and noted the slow movements of the maids come to collect their plates. He licked his lips a moment, before scurrying out with the demon.


"As anyone ever told djou, djou are a spoil sport, Vyren!!" Bones chuckled, nudging his friend lightly with his shoulder as he followed him round the corridors to the main foyer. He looked up the stairs with a melancholy eye. This place was so big, so open, and yet so cloying in its silence and stillness. "If djou change djour mind, and vant to entertain me furzher vizh tales of times vhen djou vere zhat 'big bad demon', I vill be in my room." He gave a cheeky wink and a very lopsided grin, not helped by the deep scar in the left hand side of his face puckering his expression. He raised his arms above his head in a seductive stretch, showing off his low slung jeans and toned stomach, before laughing at the demon, knowing it would make the fussy, civilised creature uncomfortable, before turning and running up the stairs.


Following the familiar route back to his room, the scent of the girl wafted around the broad sweeping corridors. As he ducked into his room, he locked it, though it would not stop his true form from escaping if it so desired. Opening the bay windows a touch, to let in the cold, mist dampened air to swirl around his room, he poked a few times at his jay bird mounting, before stalking across to the chest he'd gotten his clothes from.


He stripped off entirely, before standing in front of the windows, letting the cold air and moonlight bathe his milk white skin. He idly scratched at his chest, his nails wrasping against the hair that grew there. The moon was not full, but he was a born werewolf; the moon convinced him that running free and wild when it was full was the only way to be, but he could stop the change, if required. His red eyes gazed up at the gibbous moon; past it's full roundness and heading towards a new moon, a new month. His arms swung out to embrace the light, and as he did so, he seemed to grow; muscles bulked, legs and arms lengthened, as did his face. A tail pushed its way out of the base of his spine. Creaking, cracking and popping of joints, tendons and muscles reverberated around his room; his own grunts and groans also joined in the music of a werewolf changing form. Even as a born werewolf, the change was not without pain, and a full ache flooded his whole body as he changed his shape, his size, and finally, the glossy white fur pierced its way through his skin. A pink tinged sweat beaded across the skin covered areas, where the sudden growth of fur drew blood, but this quickly disappeared as the glossy coat, protective, and soft, and warm, grew in and covered him. His tail lashed as the last of the wild features came in; claws developed where finger and toe nails had been, his nose bulged into the pale pink canine nose, whiskers too, sprouting. His ears slipped higher on his head until they were positioned tall and proud upon his skull. Only his eyes seemed unchanged; it was difficult to tell if they were still human, or when humanoid, if his eyes were always wolffish.


With the change complete, Wy'Ziot couldn't help but release a joyous howl. It was always such a relief to allow his true form time to breathe!! He was so often cooped within the smaller frame of the human, confined to keep up the charade. At least in this room, the white wolf could relax, and allow his fur time to air, his limbs time to stretch, his senses to sharpen. He would sleep more soundly in his nest of furs and cushions in this form, rather than the weak, furless form humans expected of him. Now standing nearly 8ft in height, the werewolf was pleased this room had such wonderful vaulted ceilings. His paws, now like dinner platters, flexed the claws in them as he turned from the window, and lowered to a hunkered crouch. In this form he was still bipedal, but he could walk on all fours a little like a gorilla, though his back legs were far longer, and gave him a sleek, powerful appearance, rather than the stocky, stubby appearance gorillas had. The white werewolf slunk his way into his giant nest of bedding. He sprawled out on his back, arms and legs stretched long, his tail between his thighs, twitching intermittently. His red eyes slowly drifted close, his ears picking up the gentle chiming of his dream catchers, wind chimes, and other various items that caught the breeze as it swirled around his room. Sleep would consume him quickly, and his dreams wouls dance with a demon, a witch, a vampire and a wolf.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Fyren made no complaint when the werewolf exited the room with him, he didn't mind the company, even if the uncivilized nature of the wolf was a little annoying at times. Annoying at times, but if that man ever changed his ways Fyren would be disappointed, as this was how the creature was and would always be. It was a part of the white wolf's charm. Fyren would never admit to Wy'Ziot having any kind of charm though, and only gave him a casual glance as he was nudged. "I will not change my mind, your rest shall be uninterrupted on my part." The words were spoken almost dismissively.


When Wy'Ziot stretched, showing off a lot of skin, Fyren pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. An expression of slight disdain, though the demon did actually appreciate a glimpse at that bare skin. However, it was improper, and it only made Fyren hungry for more meat. His wings twitched and he shook his head slightly as he lowered that hand, contemplating returning to the dinning hall for another helping. As the werewolf made his way up the stairs, Fyren lingered, his silver eyes also lingering on Wy'Ziot's form. His gaze was contemplative and nothing more. He enjoyed the company of that man, even if sometimes he irritated him and annoyed him. Honestly though, Fyren wouldn't change that if he could.


Once the other was at the top of the stairs, Fyren began making his own way up. Quickly going to his own room, a room that lacked a bed. Instead there was an almost nest of sorts in the low hanging rafters of the high ceiling. With a flutter of his wings, Fyren flew up there, and settled down in that nest. In his true demonic form, Fyren would have slept upside down with his wings wrapped about him. Much like a bat, in this form, he slept curled up with those wings wrapped about him in a nest akin to that of a large birds. Though more often than not, as of late, Fyren had been sleeping in the library surrounded by his books.


The werewolf's howl had him shaking his head slightly as he settled himself down in that nest, but there was a tiny smile on his lips. Fyren understood all too well the need and want of sleeping in one's natural form. Though he wasn't entirely sure if the wolf form was the werewolf's natural form or not, it did seem to him like Wy'Ziot was far more fond of that wolven form than the humanoid one.

 

[poppet]

Standing in the semicircle of books, vibrant eyes looked left and right in confusion. Where had the stranger gone to in the blink of an eye? She waited a moment, only to find that it had been a maid who'd opened the door to the library. She moved slowly through the room with a duster, dusting at book shelves. It didn't seem as if she was cleaning anything at all. Dust puffed up in little clouds before resettling in almost the same place.


Violet scanned the room again, but it would appear that the only people in the library now were her and the maid. She sighed and shook her head lightly, before deciding she wasn't going to get anywhere too fast by nosing through the demon's weird nest of literature. She moved back to the desk and picked up the notes she'd made of the grimoire, along with the map and a few other books. For a long moment, she had to talk herself out of taking the grimoire. It was then that she heard a chilling howl, and she looked towards the library windows. Night had fallen, and Violet should have returned to her room by now. The guests of the hotel who were not on the human schedule of this realm would be waking to begin their 'day'.

Quickly, the pale haired girl left the library. Standing outside the large doors, Violet stared down the long hallway. It was so dimly lit by will o the wisps, that she almost couldn't even see to the place where the halls intersected. She passed one tall door after another. Which way was the foyer? This hotel was a maze, and she was having a hard time finding her way to her room. Grumbling under her breath, Violet heard a nearby door handle turning. Just as the door creaked open, she ducked behind a cracked and chipped statue that decorated the hall.

Two beings stepped out into the hall, chattering about the condition of the hotel. They were both about four feet tall. Their lower torsos were furry and hooved. Their upper torsos looked human. But they had round spiraling horns that sprouted from the tops of their heads that added almost another foot. Two long devilish tails wrapped around their waists. They walked in the opposite direction as Violet and she breathed a sigh of relief. Surely they were headed to the dining hall, where the chef and maids were already preparing for the next round of guests who were just waking, few as they may be with the hotel beginning to lose its credibility.


Once Violet had safely snuck back into her room, she closed the door and pressed her back against it. She was utterly exhausted. Without a possession to call her own, she dropped the library things at the edge of the huge canopied bed, and laid on her back across the plush comforter. She barely had enough energy to kick her boots off before she had fallen asleep, laying sideways across the bed with the books, notes and map beside her.

When she woke up again, it would be morning in the human realm, though with the castle hidden amongst the dense fog, there would be no abundance of sunlight streaming in through the windows. As she sat up in the bed, she noticed that while none of the library things had been moved, there was a trunk sitting in the middle of the large floor space that hadn't been there before.

Curiously, she moved off the bed and padded over to the large old trunk. She pushed the lid open to find clothes. Women's clothes. They were old, though she wouldn't know that they were 500 years old. A note was sitting on top of them that was scribbled in cursive. It read, "What was once mine, is now yours. From Rosalind". Violet blinked owlishly at the letter. Violet wouldn't know it yet, but Rosalind had envisioned her young ancestor coming to the hotel. Before she had sacrificed herself, she had set some things aside for various people to receive at specific times. While there were many things Violet still didn't know, that she was never intended to leave this castle, was certainly one of them.

The small girl was frowning. What were the odds that this Rosalind, was her ancestor? And what in the world did she have to do with a place like this? She glanced at the things she'd brought back from the library for a moment. It was decided. She had some sleuthing to do. Violet dressed in one of Rosalind's more simple, casual dresses, happy to not be in her old dirty clothes. She slipped on some shoes from the trunk, and tucked the note away under her pillow.

The hotel would begin to smell more strongly of Rosalind now that the trunk had been opened, though Violet had not yet gotten to the bottom of it, as well as a sudden but very faint scent of Lord Vanderheim that would only be noticeable in the library and outside of the locked door to his room.

 

[Malhyanth]

@poppet


The night was quiet for the werewolf, fast asleep in his nest. His dreams were simple; memories of a different time, when he was younger, and wild in a completely different way. He rose early, with the first rays of the sun, and his open windows allowed the first tweets of the dawn chorus to filter in. He stretched, his white fur standing on end, giving him the appearance of a giant Samoyed for a moment, before returning to the sleek wolf appearance. He knew the other members of the castle would either be used to seeing odd inhabitants, or would be heading back to their rooms for the day shift. He decided to go for an early morning stroll! Without changing back.


Bones left his room in his wolf form. He padded quietly down the hallways and staircase, luckily meeting no other person in the whole building. As he entered the foyer, he found a maid waiting for him, holding the door open. His long wolf face grinned; it looked more like a snarl, and she skipped back from him with an almost human gasp. He chuckled, and padded past her, his head on all fours at her shoulder height, so no wonder she was a bit nervous. He stopped on the top step, and stretched himself out. He looked up, feeling a little hint of warmth behind the mists. He knew the sun wouldn't burn that mist off. One would almost believe there was something magical keeping its density. Once thoroughly limbered up, the pure white beast leapt down the steps in one go, before stretching out his stride to take himself around the grounds of the castle. This was as much a chance to stretch his wolf legs, as it was a chance to cast his eye over the state of the grounds.


Wy'ziot ran until he could feel his stomach starting to growl. He slowed to a trot about, stopping only for a moment at the large ornamental pond to take a deep drink. He walked his way back to the front door, which was again opened for him. This time, large paw prints were left in a slightly dirty film of moisture as he walked past the maid. He watched her with his deep red eyes as he strolled past, quietly saying if that wasn't cleaned up by the time he came down for breakfast, there would be trouble. She bowed her head to him, and he moved past.


As he made his way up the stairs, Wy'ziot's nose picked up a scent he hadn't smelt for so long. He slowed, turning his face back and forth, casting about for the source. He slunk down the corridor, past his own room and continued until he was outside what he believed to be Violet's. Bones' nose twitched, and he breathed deep through his nose, huffing out through his mouth. He snuggled back and forth across the corridor, before pushing his nose against the gap below Violet's door. He huffed a few more times against the gap, drawing in as many of the scents as he could. There was a definite smell of someone he had been missing for so long. Forgetting himself, he clawed at the door, digging at the gap to try and get in. He whined, like a lost puppy. His tail wagged excitedly at the thought that Rosalind was inside. A yelp and bark escaped him, as he continued to scratch at the marble below the door. He huffed at the gap again, before pacing in front of it, constantly whining. He lay down in front of the door, red eyes pleading the door to open, to reveal the woman whom had practically raised him.

 

[poppet]

Just as Violet was finished tucking the note away in its hiding place beneath her pillow, there was a strange huffing, creepy breathing at her door. She turned her head quickly at the sound, and waited, listening. It was loud, but not quite as loud as the ensuing scraping sounds of claws at the wood. Violet was frozen in her place. There was some kind of beast outside her door, trying to get inside...

It was the whimpering sounds that caused her own confusion. Was it, a dog? Was there a dog in the castle? Violet held no prejudice against dogs. She was fond of their soft fur and loyal personalities. She waited, determining that the animal outside wasn't a danger. Had it been, it would likely still be clawing, growling and other aggressive manners. Surely. Right?

Violet took a breath, and exhaled. She had work to do. Certainly she couldn't stay in this room all day. Cautiously she turned the handle to the door and pulled just enough that the light from her room cast a thin golden beam over the white fur of the animal laying in the hall. She peered down through the small crack, vibrant eyes wide at the size of the 'dog'. That wasn't an ordinary dog. Instinct told her to close the door back. She'd stay in her room for days, weeks, she didn't even care. But amazement laced with a healthy fear, kept her blue eyes glued on the werewolf. "Shoo...", she whispered, intending to be much louder and more confident.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


Fyren was not long in waking as the day started, though clearly he did not wake quite so early as others. He was still up at an early hour, though that had become a habit hard to break. Fyren wasn't exactly a nocturnal creature, nor was he exactly a morning creature. He was more a midday to early night creature. However it had become a habit to wake in the morning and one he had not yet broken. After all, someone responsible needed to be active during the daylight hours. He stood in his nest in the rafters and stretched a bit, before those wings flitted and fluttered to bring him gently to the floor.


After taking some minutes to pick out a change of clothes, an outfit exactly like the one he had worn the previous day, as he was very fond of that style, he dressed quickly. He ran a comb through his hair, gave himself a couple of once overs and once he felt he was presentable, the demon striving to be a gentleman opened his door. The scent that wafted through the hall caught him completely unawares and he staggered back a moment from the door way. A hand jumping up to rest over his heart.


Fyren hesitated, uncertain, and somewhat afraid. He shouldn't get his hopes up. Rosalind had died, she couldn't have...but that scent..faint as it was seemed to grow a bit stronger now. That hand lowered and Fyren moved, closing his door behind him, he stepped into the hall, turned to follow that scent. Long legs brought him quickly down the hall way, before he even got to the door, he saw Wy'Ziot outside of it, and the door was open just a crack. Fyren's pace increased, it was Violet's room. Why was that scent coming from her room?


With a growl in his throat, he reached the door, a hand out to shove it open hard. The action would probably make the human girl stumble backwards, but at the moment Fyren cared not for her well being or being a gentleman. If she was somehow hiding Rosalind in there! Of course that didn't make sense, Rosalind was dead. If he succeeded in pushing that door open, he would move past the werewolf and enter that room. Silver eyes would narrow at Violet, then widen upon realizing who's dress she wore.


Those wide silver eyes would narrow then, changing to black then orange as his pupils became slitted and no longer round. His wings would flare out behind him, twitching almost frantically. Those lips would draw back in a sneer, revealing thin, sharp pointed teeth all throughout his mouth. Fyren would move towards her, reaching out with a hand, as if to grasp her by the throat. His body trembled, barely in control of the rage and other emotions that filled him. She looked like Rosalind, but she wasn't her. What right did this human have to Rosalind's things? A passing resemblance wasn't enough to excuse such insult.


Fyren's skin was beginning to turn black with streaks of orange here and there. His wings were growing a bit larger, his form was getting taller, wider. What had once been lean muscle was turning to the bulging muscles akin to a human body builder. Fyren was losing control, Fyren was going full demon. All because this girl who was not Rosalind was wearing Rosalind's dress and bore a resemblance to Rosalind, and her room was filled with Rosalind's scent. His hand would soon grasp her throat, if she didn't manage to dodge, or if something didn't manage to stop him.


His transformation wasn't complete yet, it was merely the beginning. It hurt, this transformation, but Fyren couldn't stop it. Wasn't even sure if he wanted to stop it. He wouldn't be able to stay in that form long, the natural form that was denied him since being bound to the mortal realm, but he could hold it long enough to rip this girl apart. How dare she?! Fyren said nothing, he only growled and snarled at her like a wild beast.

 

[poppet]

No sooner than the small girl had begun to shoo the wolf, she saw the demon. She hardly had time to react, barely moving enough that the door caught only her shoulder as he shoved it open. Violet stumbled backwards, reaching up to rub at her shoulder, and she frowned. "What's wrong with you!?" she snapped in anger and shock. But he was already moving towards her. His wings were open and his eyes angry. He looked menacing, unlike he'd been up until now. But she wasn't understanding why.


She opened her mouth to question why he'd shoved his way into her room and what he was so upset about, but before she could speak, he'd wrapped his fingers around her throat. Violet instinctively reached up to grab onto his fingers, trying to pry him away. She could see that he was changing. His skin was turning black, a stark contrast to the color it had been before, with streaks of orange. He was even growing, taller, and bigger.

Her own anger at the intrusion had melted away quickly. Now, as he began to change, she became worried and fearful. Her heart rate picked up and vibrant eyes glanced around the room. There was nothing within reach to defend herself. She looked for that white fur. Would the animal help? Did it belong to the demon? Violet had known this castle would be dangerous, but for some reason she was surprised to find herself attacked by the demon. Why was he doing this? Please, she thought, someone help.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry @poppet


The werewolf cast his large red eyes up at the girl as the door opened, but rather than 'shooing' as she asked, he stood on all fours, tongue lolling from his mouth, his tail wagging frantically. His brain, in this form, was slow to register the scents and sights he was experiencing were not quite what he was believing. He was registering a half-truth, and believing it to be the full. He pushed his nose against her hand that


was holding the handle, and licked it furiously. He play bowed, but was quick to exit his heightened sense of excitement as Fyren was seen powering down the hall. Something wasn't right, and Wy'Ziot backed up with a whimper for a moment, watching the Demon burst into the room


with palpable anger radiating out.


As the demon stormed in, Wy'Ziot watched the way Fyren's body writhed beneath his shirt, pulsated with different colours. As his hand reached out, the werewolf's brain saw the demon reaching out to attack Rosalind. With a roar, deep and reverberating, he launched up onto his hind legs, raising to his full 8 feet of height in this form, using a clawed, paw shaped hand to smack away the hand of the demon that had curled about her throat, and stood in front of the girl. One arm curled back protectively around her, his eyes hardening to bloody gems. His wolf face was pulled into a violent snarl, all of his wolfen teeth bared, his tongue flicking out as he growled continually.


"Brozher, contain djoursshelf." The words were hard to discern from his deep growl, and through the mouth of a wolf, with not the right shape, or denture, to form human words well. "Djou are not djoursshelf, Vyren. Come back." Bones' clawed hand, claws hooked, about 6 inches in length, were held out towards the demon, curled, and ready to retaliate if the demon struck him. His chest was broad and blocked the girl from view, his tail lashed, occasionally beating against the girl's side.


"Vyren, COME BACK TO ME." The werewolf roared at him, again, the words blurred within the snarling. His hackles were raised, his dreaded mane pushed back with its bone ornaments clanking as he stood, red eyes fixated on the demon.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


Fyren's clothing ripped and tore in places as muscles bulged out through the restraining cloth, he didn't stop growing until his height was just under eight feet tall. Still slightly shorter than that werewolf, but that wasn't even a thought in his head, there wasn't much thought in Fyren's head honestly. Only anger and hurt, orange fire burned in his eyes, his face had begun to change as well, elongating into the snubbed snout much like a bats. His ears had grown longer and a bit wider, shifting there position a bit higher up but still on the sides of his head.


The demon looked more like a giant man bat thing when the change was completely finished. His boots had broken apart, as large feet akin to that of a bat's broke through the soft constricting leather. His clothing hung on him in tatters and strips, though what was left of his pants still managed to cover the important bits. His black and orange skin was covered in the thinnest of black and orange fur. Unnoticeable really unless one touched him. His nails had gotten longer, sharper, like claws almost, and his teeth even elongated some.


Fyren had not expected Wy'Ziot to smack him away, and an angry snarl was directed to the werewolf when Fyren's hand had been smacked away from the girl's throat. Why would the werewolf protect this girl? This girl that had obviously gone about nosing through things that didn't belong to her. Rosalind's things. Blood welled up on Fyren's arm, where the wolf's claws had caught his flesh during that smack, and then demon made to move forward, even with the wolf between him and the girl.


Wy'Ziot was yelling at Fyren, telling him to contain himself. He should, but right now emotion overrode judgement and common sense. The change was painful, even now it made his whole body ache to be in this form, but Fyren ignored it. "Do not stand against me!" The words were spoken slowly, each word carefully pronounced. "She has stolen Rosalind's things!" After speaking those words, Fyren moved to dart around the werewolf and get at the girl.

 

[poppet]

Having closed her eyes in resignation, Violet only opened them again as she began to fall to the floor. The demon had released her, unwillingly as it may have been. One of her own shaking hands delicately held onto her neck as if to protect it from further assault. But her vibrant eyes stared ahead of her at the back of the animal that had been outside her door. She hadn't thought it to be dangerous, and now it was protecting her... No, it was obviously dangerous, but still, the demon no longer had his hands on her, thanks to this being.


It was when some of the bone ornaments clanked together that her eyes widened again. Was this, Wy'Ziot!? Yes, when he spoke, though she couldn't follow easily, she heard his accent well enough. The demon had said he was a werewolf, too. Thank the Gods for his presence here. Who knows what might have happened had he not stepped in!

She peered around Wy'Ziot cautiously as the demon completed his change, and shuddered. Both of these beings were of nothing she could have ever even imagined, in her wildest nightmares. But he spoke of Rosalind as if he knew her. "Stole?" she mumbled questioningly. Violet looked down at her dress. How could that demon have possibly known this was Rosalind's? Well, had been Rosalind's. After all, her ancestor had curiously left them for her.

The pale girl made to stand, just as the demon made his move to attack again. "What do you know of Rosalind?" she half yelled, demanding to know.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry @poppet


Wy'ziot lowered himself, the protective arm that was held back around the girl tensing, ready for an impact. He closed his eyes a moment, before making the decision to react. As the demon stepped to the side, the werewolf spun and sidestepped with his arm around the girl's waist, physically lifting her up out of the demon's reach. He followed his momentum, and deposited the girl by the door, before turning again to look at the demon with the snarl, still bodily in the way of the demon, keeping the girl safe.


The werewolf noted the huge trunk behind the demon, and motioned towards it with one hand, the other still hooked and trained on the chest of the bat-like creature before him. "Look, brozher. Zhere issh a chessht. Sshe vouldn't be able to bring zhat 'ere alone." He took a step forward, both clawed hands raised. His hackles were still up, his eyes trained on the beast before him. He knew he'd said they should go and let loose in their wild forms the night before, he hadn't expected to be going up against the demon in such a way now!!


"Brozher, zhink about it. Sshe issh tiny! I don't vant to 'urt djou brozher. Calm djoursshelf." The werewolf licked his jaws, salivated at the prospect of a fight. 

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


Fyren had lunged, the girl had screamed a question at him, and Wy'Ziot had reacted quickly. Putting the girl out of Fyren's reach and by the door, she could easily slip out of the room now. A bestial noise of frustration left his bat like maw as he snarled at the werewolf, a hand reaching up to swat away at the one the werewolf had on his chest. Fyren paused though, when Wy'Ziot pointed to the chest behind him, and he even half turned to get a glimpse of it.


The bat demon moved back, and then pounced upon the chest. If the lid were still open, he pounced on it in a way to force that lid closed, and crouched atop it. The wolf was right, there was no way the tiny human could have brought this to her room from wherever it might have been before. Not without help at least.


Those orange eyes were narrowed as he inhaled deeply, the scent of Rosalind hung heavily around the chest, and for a moment Fyren just savored it. His gaze though was directed past the werewolf, towards the girl. "What do I...What do we...know of Rosalind?" He waved a hand to indicate Wy'Ziot as well, as he slowly, carefully pronounced his words. "Far more than a fledgling human would. What right have you to touch her belongings? She was our friend, a mother when some had none, a teacher when others thought one could not be taught, a guiding light in the darkness." It was clear Fyren had thought very highly of Rosalind, there was deep respect and longing in his voice as he spoke of her.


His body tensed a bit and he leaped off of the chest, coming to stand very close to the werewolf, if Fyren were a couple of inches taller their snouts would have touched. As it were, he was still a few inches shorter than the wolf and had to tilt his head up just slightly. "She has no right to these things! If Lord Vanderheim were here...He would...He would do something!" Honestly Fyren wasn't sure what the vampire would have done in this situation. Even so, just because this girl bore a resemblance to Rosalind, it didn't give her the right. "Rosalind's things shouldn't be disturbed, let them and her soul rest unbothered!"


The large bat like creature staggered back a few steps, both hands raised to his snout as he coughed hard, blood splattered his hands and he groaned lightly, but otherwise tried to hide what had just happened. Wiping those hands on the remains of his now tattered black clothing. He could hold this form for a while longer, but the pain had increased. Fyren grit his teeth and snarled, a few drops of blood staining his lips and teeth, though he didn't seem to notice. "Am I to stand aside while some human dirties and defiles Rosalind's belongings? All because that human resembles my friend a little?"

 

[poppet]

The girl frowned deeply as the demon jumped onto the trunk. He was going to break it. But her frown turned to shock as he spoke of Rosalind in such a way. Her heart thumped almost painfully. He had known Rosalind? But that would mean he was, centuries old. The both of them; Wy'Ziot and the demon. It wasn't until he spoke of their resemblance that Violet stepped around to stand beside Wy'Ziot. "We look similar?" she questioned in bewilderment. But, her family of dark witches was known for their raven black hair and eyes. Violet was told that she was the first to be so starkly contrasted to their lineage. "She's, my ancestor..."

She cast vibrant blue eyes on Wy'Ziot. "You knew her, too?" Violet moved to her bed and reached under her pillow for the note she'd found inside the chest. She opened it as she crossed the room to the demon. She intended on showing it to him, that note that had said the things in the trunk were for her. She wanted to know if it was true. Maybe he could recognize the writing and know if it really had been from Rosalind. But he coughed up blood as she approached, and she frowned again, stopping as she held the letter against her chest.

Violet looked at Wy'Ziot. "You hurt him!" she said. Though it wasn't angrily or in reprimand. It was simply in haste because she thought that he'd need some kind of care. She held no qualms with their fight. She was more than thankful for Wy'Ziot, and likely owed him her life.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry @poppet


Wy'Ziot tried to hold her back as Violet stepped around him, but instead, his face evened as he listened to her, and watched as she crossed the room to her bed. He stepped to the side to ensure he was always between the two, but he was starting to realise that his friend was in trouble. He reached out towards his friend's face as he coughed up blood, the sharp scent of it hurting his nostrils as he whined a little at Fyren. He looked over his shoulder at the girl as she reprimanded him.


"I did nozhing!!" He cried, the whimper of the wolf drowning in the words. His ears lowered, as well as his tail lowering, whipping from side to side with worry. He hunkered himself down, worried about his friend, and he skulked forward, now on all fours and looking more like a huge wolf again. The way his friend was acting scared him a little, so he backed up, and pressed against Violet's side, nearly as tall as she even sat. An unbid whine escaped his chest, panic striking him as he tried to figure out what his reaction should be.


"Did I do zhat, Vyren?" Bones whimpered, looking at his clawed hands, but seeing only a little clump of fuzzy skin under one set of claws which had accidentally been torn from the demon's arm when he'd first smacked away his hand from her throat. Looking at the girl's note gave Wy'Ziot a slight distraction, however, as he carefully took the note and looked at it. He couldn't read it, but the patterns were so familiar!! He waved it at the Demon with an expression of excitement again, and stepped between the girl and him once more.


"LOOK!! Vyren, look at zhissh!!" The wolf crouched before his friend and offered the paper to him, his expression sheepish as he gently touched his friend's arm, eyes requesting the information his friend was ok.