27th June, 1889 — The Vampire Caverns
Azazel
Azazel
Never mind that Galina was still - wrongly - in custody. Galina would never have done this.
Unfortunately for Ishmael, he thought he knew who had.
He rolled up the paper after reading it a third time. It was not getting better with repetition. And he knew he was not the only one in the caverns who got a subscription to the Daily Prophet (even those amongst them who disparaged humans the most - or were so out of it they still thought it was the sixteen hundreds - liked to know when vampires were being badmouthed by wizardkind). And no doubt more than one of them would want to talk.
Before he got roped into any kind of cavern-wide inquisition, Ishmael supposed he had better carry out an inquisition of his own, because like it or not, they'd find a way to drag him into this. And if Azazel was behind this, as she had been behind Power's death last summer, and gotten off scot-free - then she might not be so lucky a second time. And everyone had gleaned that she knew him, had some history there. She would not have come here if not for him.
Dawn came so early in summer that Ishmael could feel the sun on his face and hands as it filtered through the canopy, even in these early hours. He winced, but moved swiftly - discreetly - as he wound his way over to the cavern Azazel had chosen as her own and slipped inside.
She was home, mercifully. Not about to waste this chance, Ishmael strode right in, too incensed to wait, to couch his movements in the indolent, catlike way with which he usually carried himself. The news had gotten to him today. "Tell me, Azazel," he began crisply, unfolding the front page where the picture of the pretty debutante was plastered, "do you recognise her?"
Unfortunately for Ishmael, he thought he knew who had.
He rolled up the paper after reading it a third time. It was not getting better with repetition. And he knew he was not the only one in the caverns who got a subscription to the Daily Prophet (even those amongst them who disparaged humans the most - or were so out of it they still thought it was the sixteen hundreds - liked to know when vampires were being badmouthed by wizardkind). And no doubt more than one of them would want to talk.
Before he got roped into any kind of cavern-wide inquisition, Ishmael supposed he had better carry out an inquisition of his own, because like it or not, they'd find a way to drag him into this. And if Azazel was behind this, as she had been behind Power's death last summer, and gotten off scot-free - then she might not be so lucky a second time. And everyone had gleaned that she knew him, had some history there. She would not have come here if not for him.
Dawn came so early in summer that Ishmael could feel the sun on his face and hands as it filtered through the canopy, even in these early hours. He winced, but moved swiftly - discreetly - as he wound his way over to the cavern Azazel had chosen as her own and slipped inside.
She was home, mercifully. Not about to waste this chance, Ishmael strode right in, too incensed to wait, to couch his movements in the indolent, catlike way with which he usually carried himself. The news had gotten to him today. "Tell me, Azazel," he began crisply, unfolding the front page where the picture of the pretty debutante was plastered, "do you recognise her?"
The following 4 users Like Ishmael's post:
Acacia Darlington, Aldous Crouch, Azazel, Katherine Midford
Acacia Darlington, Aldous Crouch, Azazel, Katherine Midford
