"Galina," Ishmael drawled as he cracked open the door, with a grin from ear to ear. "Well hello. Decided to give civilisation another chance, have we, now?" If the question was rhetorical, his curiosity certainly wasn't: although he had once offered an open invitation, an if you ever fancy a change of scene, to an introduction to nineteenth-century London (magical and otherwise), he hadn't ever expected Galina to take him up on it. She and her little pet - or sister, whatever - had always had their own way of operating, and she, being older than him, was presumably fairly set in her ways.
Lyra Potter's new perspective hadn't rubbed off visibly on the vampire standing in front of him now, of that Ishmael was quite sure. Still, that she had come to the city at all - well, either she was getting lazy or desperate about hunting, or she still felt that old pull of humanity somewhere down in her - was... interesting. Whatever Galina's opinions, of course, she had always been decent enough to get along with: she was a character, yes, but one worth knowing. One he sometimes had trouble reading, but whom he trusted, a little. A little was more than most.
Had trusted enough to give her enough information to find him in London, for one, although he had no desire for her to linger on the doorstep of the abandoned house he and his criminal... friends... had for their garrison any longer than necessary. (Nor did he much want to linger on the concept of trust, because it saw a strange flip in his gut that he would much rather ignore, for reasons entirely unrelated to his present guest.) "Not that you're not very welcome here," he teased - only their kind could find welcomes quite so potent a gesture, but it never did matter how irreverently it was worded - so he stepped back and ushered her through into the hall, though he didn't much want her to stay here any longer than necessary, either. Sociable as he might be - there were no limits to the people he knew - Ishmael had also always liked to orbit in worlds larger than anyone knew, sometimes liked to keep his stars separate, hanging in different corners of the sky.
The others were out for the moment, fortunately; but there was no telling when they'd come back, and he wasn't sure how well he fancied making introductions all round (though better Galina than some, he supposed). "What do you make of it so far?" He added, inclining his head with another small smirk. How easily would she be convinced by the city and its - well, if not charms, then - quirks, and conveniences? Or was the remoteness of Hogsmeade unmatched to her, everywhere?
Lyra Potter's new perspective hadn't rubbed off visibly on the vampire standing in front of him now, of that Ishmael was quite sure. Still, that she had come to the city at all - well, either she was getting lazy or desperate about hunting, or she still felt that old pull of humanity somewhere down in her - was... interesting. Whatever Galina's opinions, of course, she had always been decent enough to get along with: she was a character, yes, but one worth knowing. One he sometimes had trouble reading, but whom he trusted, a little. A little was more than most.
Had trusted enough to give her enough information to find him in London, for one, although he had no desire for her to linger on the doorstep of the abandoned house he and his criminal... friends... had for their garrison any longer than necessary. (Nor did he much want to linger on the concept of trust, because it saw a strange flip in his gut that he would much rather ignore, for reasons entirely unrelated to his present guest.) "Not that you're not very welcome here," he teased - only their kind could find welcomes quite so potent a gesture, but it never did matter how irreverently it was worded - so he stepped back and ushered her through into the hall, though he didn't much want her to stay here any longer than necessary, either. Sociable as he might be - there were no limits to the people he knew - Ishmael had also always liked to orbit in worlds larger than anyone knew, sometimes liked to keep his stars separate, hanging in different corners of the sky.
The others were out for the moment, fortunately; but there was no telling when they'd come back, and he wasn't sure how well he fancied making introductions all round (though better Galina than some, he supposed). "What do you make of it so far?" He added, inclining his head with another small smirk. How easily would she be convinced by the city and its - well, if not charms, then - quirks, and conveniences? Or was the remoteness of Hogsmeade unmatched to her, everywhere?
