camdensavage:
There was something there in the moment that he took the medal, almost a silent acknowledgement of the potential danger, in a way that he had been very good about not showing before this moment. It was hard to say if that made him feel better or worse. Maybe in a strange way it helped; it felt as if even the smallest acknowledgement of the danger these part-humans could pose meant they would be better prepared, if it was the case. Because, despite the preparations he had made, Camden knew well enough that he had never been the fighter of the two of them, and no stake, or holy water would change that.
Still, at least for now, there was no use in lingering on the worry before they even arrived at the coven. There would be plenty of time for that once they saw what they had in store, why they had called aurors down to take care of their problems.
He let out a scoff of laughter; his brother was right, no matter when they came, she would find a reason to chide them for not coming at the right time, even if they arrived precisely when he had said they would. The thought of the visit, at least, might help get him through dealing with the creatures more easily. “Of course, so let’s give her less reason to complain, take care of this as quickly as possible,” he nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. He let out a breath of smoke in a sigh, and then turned towards the dirt path leading into a not-quite woods, the way towards the coven’s home.
“Suppose we should meet these creatures first, though, God help us.”
The tree-cover around where the coven was located was sparse, just enough to cover them from the road, but the dirt path leading there was long -- long enough that the tight feeling of nerves in the pit of his stomach only worsened as they walked. Before reaching the door, he had to stop and take a breath, reminding himself that these vampires were the ones who had been wronged, in this case, the victims asking them for their help, and he needed to treat them like he would any other victim.
“Ready?” he asked Camden, as they finally reached the door of the coven’s home -- an old looking but not quite dilapidated mansion, its white paint aged to yellowing with time, its front wooden stairs creaky and off-kilter between the tall columns that appeared to hold up a second-story balcony.
He waited for Camden’s go-ahead before knocking on the door -- a firm and certain movement, three quick but loud raps on the peeling wood of the door. But time seemed to stretch out for ages, before he began to hear noise on the other side of the door, before eventually the handle turned and a shadowed figure appeared beyond the partially opened door.
“Sergeant Becker Savage,” he said, holding up his badge. “We’re here to speak to Ariana Astrid, she asked us to be here.”












