[maggicktouched]

Semi-Selective Multimuse for primarily fantasy oc characters as well as canon muses from Marvel, The 100, and Daniel Molloy of The Vampire Chronicles. Please read my pages before interacting.

Rules . Mobile Muse List . 

This post is being heavily edited as a WIP. I’m coming back to tumblr with a new attitude and a desire to have a lot of fun and let go of some of tumblr’s toxic obsessions with aesthetic so I’m moving all my pages to google docs, but it’ll take time. However all of my pages on my physical blog should currently be in working order.

[maggicktouched]

I'm finally feeling myself again. I rode my bike and everything today. I'm gonna go hop in the pool and listen to an audio book and then hopefully do replies!

[maggicktouched]

Lying in bed because I'm still sick as a dog working on Talamasca lore for Braxton

[productofaritual]

Love character relationships that can only be described as "whatever the fuck these two have going on"

[maggicktouched]

@justicescreaming

[gabrielle-de-lioncourt-anon]

Gabrielle listened to the flood of suggestions with growing amusement, her eyes following the fox as she sprang onto a log, off again, and back up before the previous thought had even finished. "Let's walk and talk," she decided, setting off through the trees. "If I agree to everything at once, I suspect you'll have us swimming, camping, and crossing three state lines before midnight." There was warmth in the her remark now.

The forest seemed content to move with them. Leaves whispered overhead. Small creatures stirred in the undergrowth as Beck passed.

"You know," Gabrielle said after a moment, "I have met very few beings who greet an evening this enthusiastically." Her gaze drifted to the fox's swaying tail. "Or greet anything this enthusiastically." The corner of her mouth lifted. "The world must be a much less boring place from your perspective." They walked together beneath the moonlight for a while.

In response to the fox's question, "No, the distance isn't tedious now," she answered at last. "It rarely is. But conversation is pleasant when it happens naturally." Her eyes moved to Beck. "And you are pleasant company. I like that you say exactly what occurs to you. Most people spend half their lives deciding what not to say."

She looked ahead again, listening to the woods hum softly around them. "So tell me, when you're not wandering forests and attempting to befriend mysterious creatures, what do you do with yourself?"

[maggicktouched]

"Talking's fun." She said merrily, her tail still swinging from side to side as she trotted along at the vampire's heel. Gabrielle wasn't wrong, given half a chance, Beck would have led her all over and under the woods. In the back of her mind, something tried to rear its head. The thing---which she knew very well but refused to name on account of not wanting to pay it too much attention---disapproved of her current night time escapades. Thankfully she was very good at ignoring disapproval when it suited her.

"It'd be awfully boring if I did anything else." She said, humor giving a bright warmth to her tone.

Most young witches learned magic from priests and priestesses deep in the Witch Wilds. They get their first real taste of magic somewhere around the time they are four or five, and when they turn six, they learn to take the form of their clan symbol and are enrolled at one of the temples nearby. They learn the craft alongside reading and writing. But for lack of a better word, Beck Tandy had been romancing magic from her very earliest memories. She danced with the ripples on ponds and raced the deer through the woods. She held spiders in her little grubby palms and climbed up trees to chat with the fresh-hatched wide-mouthed little birds wriggling in their nests. She'd made friends with trolls and merfolk and spirits. Her mother could suck every ounce of joy from inside their home and replace it with terror, but out among the wilds, the changing leaves painted smiles on her face, and the crunch of the snow or splash of a puddle as she was pelted with rain filled her with laughter.

The Earth was alive, and so was she.

Nothing could be more beautiful than that.

She glanced up at her new-found friend but never faltered in her step. "How could I ever be bored?"

Despite herself, she beamed under the mild praise. "I think you're good company too. And not just because you didn't eat me. You respect the woods. I can tell it, and they can too. It matters to them. Older forests are harder to sway, but mostly because they think so slowly."

Without even a whisper of wind, a shadow descended through the trees. Its white-flecked feathers blended into the night sky so well that it was near impossible to see until it was inches away from her face. It swooped down low, circled the pair, and watched with two enormous round eyes as pale as the moon. After a few laps, it whooed softly, and rose up over the trees to disappear once more into the black of the night. Beck knew she would remain close by.

They made their way deeper into the woods. Animals reared up their heads or occasionally paused to stare. At one point, a young fawn even bolted away from its mother's side, stamped its hooves at the unlikely pair, and then stretched out a neck until its muzzle touched that of the little fox. Beck wore her delight on her metaphorical sleeve.

"Well sometimes I go down onto the beach." She said eventually. "Other times the mountains or the marshland. The grasslands when it's safe."

The implication, which she was certain Gabrielle was keen enough to pick up on, was that she was always wandering the wilds.

"I have to keep moving." There was an edge to that statement, maybe even a tinge of fear that she wasn't able to mask due to how hard she had to focus to make her words audible instead of implanting them in the mind of the vampire. "How about you? I'm sure you've done everything, being a vampire and all. Is it---rude to ask how old you are?"

[maggicktouched]

meals: how many meals does my muse eat a day? what do they generally consist of?

This is really dependent on where Beck is and what she's doing.

If she's spending long portions of her time in animal form, then she's probably eating as often as instinct tells her. She doesn't love eating in most of her animal forms, but there are some days when she takes great pleasure in leisurely grazing beside Grani.

If she's on the road and she's primarily in her human form she'll generally eat twice a day if she can remember to. Beck is the type that if it comes to caring for herself will just eat an apple, get distracted, and forget to have anything substantial. Generally she eats more meat than she normally would on the road/run because she doesn't have any space to garden. She has started experimenting with gardening on top of the Goose though. If Beck got to choose she'd be a vegetarian (at least in her human form) but when you're on the run, you eat what you can, and when you're on the road you stock up when it is safe/convenient.

In more settled environments like Jon's, Beck cooks real and proper meals for people and while doing so it often reminds her she needs to eat. Gardening, cooking, sewing, knitting, playing guitar, embroidery, they are all things she enjoys, but she does them a lot more when she's settled because she has to have an outlet for all that energy. She'll host parties and cook elaborate themed meals a couple of times a month. And her diet is more balanced when she's not on the run. She can eat what she chooses, and for the most part that's a very balanced diet that might be a bit heavy on the fruit and veg. Still it isn't uncommon for someone to ask "have you eaten today?" and her response to be "I knew I was forgetting something." But like I said when she does it, she eats really nutritious food.

Notably she doesn't eat many processed foods, and I'm not sure if she ever conquers her distrust for microwaves. Beck likes to make the stuff she eats, or at least have it made in a location/by people she trusts.

[maggicktouched]

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[maggicktouched]

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[maggicktouched]

Rose: I prefer the beach.

Beck at the beach in mammalian mosasaur mode:

@nodominion

[maggicktouched]

not trying to be a hater but it really annoys me that now I have to sort through the Talamasca show info and the regular wiki for the books.

[maggicktouched]

Is that... is that a Margareton the dash????? LETS GOOOOO

@oneeyeddancer

[maggicktouched]

Ugh I have no more brain to write things tonight but mutuals are welcome to add my discord feckinghell

[miller-mayfair]

"Oh, shit. That's right." Miller responded to Braxton's cringing by taking the time to pull out his pack of smokes. He quickly lit up, chasing the sweetly sugared donut aftertaste with the bitter burn of a cigarette. Said stick bobbed in his lips as he pocketed his lighter again. "Remind me that I need to get you to sign a piece of paper for me later so I can go sell it on the internet for an insane profit."

It was a joke, an effort to try to lessen Braxton's tension. Miller was attuned to it, perhaps, or else the witch was just casually tapping into the other man's mind to understand the anxieties coursing through the Talamascan's head. Their conversation was a gateway for potential troubles. He could empathize with Braxton's nervousness.

"I don't need any James Bond level of spy danger theatrics. I promise. Should this lady that you mentioned be a fan of yours then that could make this even easier."

Plucking away the cigarette, it trailed patterns of swirling smoke as Miller emphasized his words with animated gestures. "If she has a laptop then try to convince her to let you borrow it temporarily. Yes, you were a singer but I'm sure there's enough acting chops in that blood of yours to be persuasive, B-Town."

"You get the laptop and bring it to me. There's a dive coffee shop a few blocks down from the Motherhouse. We meet up there, get a cup of coffee, I get what I need from the laptop, and then you return it. No one's the wiser. You don't even have to try to smuggle me inside."

"Does that sound like something you could pull off?"

[maggicktouched]

"Paper's old news. But you could probably make a couple grand off a sock." The words were pulled out of him like stitches being purposefully unraveled from knitwork. Joking about it had become easier, mostly because he appreciated the effort put forth to make him more comfortable, but he still didn't find it very funny.

"I'll help you." He said, swallowing the rising dread. It was too much to hope that tomorrow morning he'd wake up in his bed without his entire life being tipped upside down and spilled out all over the floor. They were going to find him out, and when they did... He didn't want to think about it. But it'd been years since he'd taken the job they'd thrust upon him, and he was no closer to control over his abilities or understanding his magic than he was the day he'd walked into the Motherhouse for the first time. Miller was a Mayfair. If anyone could figure out what was going on in him, it had to be Miller.

And what was the harm in giving people information about themselves?

"Give me a couple hours. I'll make sure no one's following me, and then I'll come find you."

Braxton stopped by the corner store and bought an energy drink which he chugged on the way to the Motherhouse. There was a man sitting at an unassuming desk who peered up over a pair of glasses as the doors swung open. Braxton swore he heard him sigh.

"Just me." He gave a weak, lame little wave and exchanged some very forced pleasantries with the man before excusing himself into the inner halls.

Jillian Barker had a face that matched her name. She wasn't unattractive, per se, but with her large soulful eyes and thick mane of incredibly orderly curls, she put him in the mind of a poodle about to try out for best in show. She had some kind of psychic abilities he'd never asked about, and stayed in the habit of working until the vampires of the world started getting ready for bed. When she glanced up from the computer screen in front of her and met his eyes, her whole body went tense from excitment.

It was easier than he thought to sweet talk her into borrowing her laptop. She was sleep deprived and hanging on his every word. He could have told her he was borrowing the device to send nasty emails to the Superior General from her account and she probably still would have giggled and handed it over. As it was, he just pretended like he'd broken yet another laptop. He was infamous for breaking equipment.

An hour later he found Miller's coffee shop, and plopped down into a seat. "She needs it back before seven pm tomorrow. She's got a seance and wants to show the ghosts what a youtube playlist is."

[nodominion]

Rose grimaces as the books are mentioned. Of course she could never escape them, even here, out in the wilderness so far from civilization that the only person Rose could sense for miles was Beck. There was a hint of emotion from Grani, but it was not the same she could feel from a person. Perhaps his animal nature kept her from sensing him fully.

"Yes, the books. We're all in them, whether we want to be or not. They're all true. Well, variations on the truth. What one person claims is sometimes refuted later but that's because they're based on subjective experiences. I'm in them too, briefly. Lestat didn't even let me read my chapters before it hit publication. He wanted me to be a damsel in distress, though I did shed every tear he claimed I did. Have you read them?"

It had been nice to pretend, even if for a little while, that Rose wasn't part of the legacy of the Articulate. That she was a young vampire out after a hunt, encountering a witch. And not a Mayfair witch either. Just a new acquaintance that she was eager to learn more about. But now the spell was broken, and Rose was back to being one of the least important people in those damn books.

Beck's familiar approaches, and Rose's back straightens. But it does not seem that he was here for her, only to gain affection from his witch, the one he was so possessive over.

"You've used that term before, 'feral witch'. I'm sure you've figured out, Beck, that I don't know what that means. But I'm glad you're going to live a long time. I find myself fraternizing less with mortals recently. Their mortality, so close, feels like I don't want to get to know them. Spare myself the pain. But maybe I'm just robbing myself of experiences."

She shrugs lightly, "It's easy to be honest with you. Is that witchcraft? Or just your personality. You are right, the young die the same as the old. It's the year 2026, spring time. Told you that you were probably older than me."

[maggicktouched]

"No. I don't know how to read." It shocked her that she'd said it out loud. The fact that she was practically illiterate was a very well kept secret that she usually reserved for people she trusted wouldn't jam their fingers into one of her soft spots. Even Grani raised up his head and perked his ears toward her as if to ask what in the world she was doing. Beck paused, and then decided there wasn't any going back. "I know a few names. The big ones. Or at least, I'd probably recall them if I heard them like I did just now. The main one's Lester, or something of the like, and you already said Armand. There was another L too... I don't know. Anyway, if you point out the bits you're in, I'll pick up a copy and have Angrboda read them to me when a good mood strikes her."

Another brief pause and then she added quickly. "If you'd like, that is. Ancestors know I'd hate for my family to write a book with me in it."

It actually hadn't occurred to her that Rose hadn't heard of feral witches. The term was synonymous with infamy and hushed whispers. Being a Tandy didn't improve the situation either. Everyone she'd ever met knew who and what she was without having to be told, and they'd all already made up their mind about it.

"Sorry. I---hm." She pursed her lips into a thin line as she thought of a way to explain it. "Feral witches are incarnations of the spirit of Nature. It can happen to any of my people but it's most common in certain bloodlines. It's, uh, not really something people like about me. I like it just fine, I guess. Anyway, fraternize away. I'm not dying any time soon."

Grani swayed his tail and looked at the vampire in front of him before wandering off to graze once more. It was as close to approval as she could get from him. At least while they were still practically strangers.

She leaned back on the log and looked up at the sky. It was a lot later than she thought. What did that make her? Forty-six? Close to it at least. No wonder her grandmother was getting so anxious.

"I could ask the same thing about you. You've even managed to win Grani over." A snort punctuated that statement, and Beck rolled her eyes. "Maybe we're kindred spirits? To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised you're so far out here on your own. You seem like the kind of person people miss terribly when they're gone. That is a kind of magic in and of itself."

[nodominion]

"If your friend faints, my reflexes are fast enough that I can probably catch him before he hits the ground. As you've seen, I'm no harm to those I don't plan to eat. Especially around those who are fragile." Rose almost wanted to fly to DC now, but she was also having a good enough time with Beck that she stays in place, sitting on her hands.

The idea of someone in New York eliminating fledglings at first worried her. Rose had always felt safe there, it being a home base for her. If she had to stay on guard it would be a damper on how often she flitted in and out of the city. But as she turned the warning over in her mind, she grins. "Oh, that's just Armand. He's a friend. I'm lucky to count him as one too. But he's totally fine with me being in the city. If your Harper is causing trouble he'll find out about it eventually. Might want to warn her to switch cities, just in case."

Though she didn't know how strong Harper was to be making vampires from methods other than blood, Rose knew Armand would not tolerate such activities in New York. The number of vampires he allowed in the city was limited to the Articulate and few others. Even that list didn't apply to everyone mentioned in the books.

A sigh when Beck mentions death, "I've been close to death too many times. My current life isn't death. Perhaps death bringer, but I..."

She's blinking when Beck pauses, being stared at as if she's made a faux pas. Rose winces, "Shit, sorry, you said not to offer. It's pure curiosity, I swear. I know from stories not to make deals with anyone. The risk of them turning out not in my favor is too high. I'll keep my blood to myself."

Taking a breath, hoping she hasn't upset the night, she tries to smile. "I might be strong, but I'm no match for ancients of my kind. We get stronger as we age. Do you have a mortal lifespan, or as a witch will you live longer than humans?"

[maggicktouched]

"I think he still might object to fainting at all, but the offer counts for something." She hummed. She could just see it now, the color pooling lower and lower in his body until draining out of him entirely, the way his glassy eyes would turn sharp as a tack. Then the lecture would come; an hour long conversation on the sort of paperwork required for a temporary passport into the Witch Wilds and the contracts and disclosure agreements that were meant to be signed before anyone entered the archives. Not even witches were meant to visit without the proper documentation. Jari liked things proper. Beck had never bothered. Once he let it all out, he'd do what he always did with her: sigh and grumble and go put on a pot of tea.

He needed to meet more people anyway.

"Ah. I see." Beck drummed her fingers on one of her legs. Armand. She'd heard that name before. Her tone pitched up slightly---curious. "The one from the books?"

She hadn't read them, but she'd heard plenty about the vampires that published their life stories in books. Interview with the Vampire had sent shockwaves through the magical community, and each new publication had reaffirmed what her people had always thought of most vampires; they couldn't keep their mouths shut. Beck quietly wondered if there had been any of her own people inspired by the spectacle of it all that had been silenced. It wouldn't have surprised her.

"At least you aren't in any danger." She winced slightly. "I think it's for the best I don't tell her anything. I'm not her favorite person these days."

Beck wasn't convinced Rose hadn't been offering, but at least she knew better than to make a deal with a witch. Not that she would have intentionally tried to cause Rose any harm, but Rose had no way of knowing that her good nature was completely genuine.

"Yes. Magic does tend to strengthen those it favors over time---or drive them mad. Or rip them apart. All depends, I guess." The soft thud of hooves momentarily drew her attention as Grani meandered his way over to her. The stallion's head rested on her shoulder, and she wove her fingers into his golden mane. "For witches, it matters just how much you want to live, but most of us live for three hundred years or so. Me specifically---it's very complicated. I've heard of some feral witches merging back before they hit their teens, but there's rumors that some live forever. I haven't aged in... Well I don't remember the year it is now, but it's been a while. Not that age has much to do with dying."

[maggicktouched]

Another extreme weird drabble for the pile: Sprouts (in which Braxton has a long and confusing conversation with his favorite witch).

~

Braxton Campbell bent down and reached into the bag at his feet. He rifled in its contents for a handful of seconds, and then pulled out the phone he used specifically for work-related issues. By the time he pressed record and looked up, the person he’d been speaking to was already half way down the street. He sighed heavily, snatched up his things, and jogged a short way to catch up with her. 

These days he spent a lot of time following around Beck Tandy. What had started out as a failed assignment for the Talamasca had turned into an marvelously beneficial friendship. Beck wouldn’t tolerate any information on her being passed on to the organization, but if he didn’t put her through the hassle of ducking out of the view of his long scope camera or picking yet another broken tracker from the underside of her vehicle, she was willing to tell him some things that her people knew about the magical world; granted that the Talamasca left her in peace, and that she’d deny ever meeting him if the witches ever found out their secrets had been spilled. He’d agreed to the deal readily and his employers—a bit more reluctantly. Still, they came around when Beck allowed him to take the three-headed dog she was babysitting for a friend into the Motherhouse for an hour.

“Beck!” He said in a thin, breathy voice, but more from exasperation than exhaustion. 

The witch cut her eyes at him irritably. “What?”

“We were talking about you-know-who?”

“I don’t know who, you haven’t said their name yet.” She snapped.

Braxton rolled his eyes. The problem with Beck was that she was in constant motion both in body and brain. Given two seconds of silence, her mind could wander a thousand miles and four topics away from the subject at hand, and her feet were never far behind. Sometimes she didn’t even need the silence. She was one of the only people he’d ever seen distract themselves mid-sentence and veer onto a completely new avenue of conversation. When he was with Beck, his job had more to do with bridling the discussion and steering it back in the direction he needed it to go than spying or researching or archiving files. And Beck didn’t always appreciate that.

“That’s because I don’t know if they’re listening. Vampires can hear for miles.” Braxton mumbled.

Beck’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “And what of it? You think they’ve got nothing better to do than sit by the window cupping an ear and straining to find your voice out of the masses? If you’re going to ask me something, just ask it.”

“Alright.” Braxton paused to consider his question. If he didn’t get it right the first time, there was a chance he’d never get them close enough to the topic again before Beck decided she was done playing nice for the evening. “How can you tell if someone’s a vampire? For sure.”

“How can you tell?” She prodded, “Or how can I tell? Those are very different questions.”

He clarified. “You.”

“Oh. Well, depends on the type of vampire. Usually I can sense it, but mind you I don’t know too much about them. Only what I learned with Harper and what I’ve seen of Vasilii. Harper didn’t want me around them much, either, and Vas has little to do with anyone outside his family. That being me and Fen. And I guess Manya, but can you really be friends with a possessed metal butterfly? Hm, then again, you don’t really have to be friends with your family at all. That’s why-”

“Beck.” 

She paused her step, blinked a few times, and realized. “Oh right. Vampires. Well you can’t tell from the sun. Some vampires spend more time sunbathing than I do. And garlic’s a toss up. Some can’t eat a thing aside from blood and others can stomach anything like big, gloomy, undead goats. Disappointingly the rice counting doesn’t work on anyone or anything that isn’t cursed or mentally ill in a particular way.”

“So you’re saying it’s impossible.” He groaned, his thumb hovering over the delete button on the recording already. This wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not done yet.” She glared at him until he hit the red button again. “Mirrors are a maybe for some species of vampire, but never the mirrors in their own house, you know. Vampire lairs are similar to witch cottages; they have a sort of allegiance with their keepers. I’ve never met any that can’t cross running water though, and crosses are a bust. There’s a surprising number of very religious vampires. There’s only one way I’ve found to really tell, and that’s if they can’t see sprouts.”

“... Sprouts?” 

“Mhm.” She nodded with absolute certainty. “Not plant sprouts. People sprouts.”

“I’m going to regret asking this, but what are ‘people sprouts?’”

“Oh that’s right, you can’t really see them either. Not unless they want you to. That’s their problem with vampires, but we’ll get to that part. Sprouts are-” She paused to reach into a small bag attached to her hip, and from it she produced a thin, hand-drawn journal that looked like it held no more than twenty pages. But she flipped and flipped well past what should have been possible, until finally passed the book over to him. There was a carefully drawn side profile of a humanoid looking creature on the page, etched in charcoal and shaded a faint baby-blue. Its eyes were bigger than a human’s, and behind ears that looked more hippo than human, a tiny patch of grass was growing. The scaling on the side showed that the being was no more than four inches tall, and it had a long, winding tail covered in little milky trichomes and ended in a tuft of hair the same pale white as that of their head. 

“There.” She said, “That’s a sprout. Very lovely creatures, but awfully territorial, and they hold grudges like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Where do you find them?” It was a silly thought, but he did briefly wonder if such creatures were interested in a job. The Talamasca could use an automatic vampire detection service. “And why can’t vampires see them?”

“Used to be you could only find them in old places. You see when people live some place, they leave things behind in the spirit realm. Ideas, emotions, obsessions. They don’t realize it, but if you hang onto them for long enough or you feel strongly enough, these things take on their own life. Especially in places where people have lived a long time. Think castles that have been inhabited for centuries or even graveyards with generations of the same family buried there, but then for some reason or another the living people abandon it. All that stuff they left behind gets lonely. It wants life. When the plants move in and start to grow through the floorboards and infect the house, that’s good enough for them. Thus, a sprout is born. Or planted at least. It takes a while for them to grow properly. And now there’s enough of them that they’ve started reproducing on their own. Kind of like witches. Or my sort anyway. In the beginning, the first witches were all incarnations of spirits, but over time they became more physical. More people.”

His head was starting to hurt. Sometimes you had to squint to see Beck’s point of view on the world. It was wrapped up in magic and spirits and traditions and “things that just were” that he’d never even heard of before. But if he didn’t think too hard about what he considered the real world, he could understand her well enough.

“That… doesn’t explain the vampires.”

“Hm? Oh. Well that has to do with the keeping grudges I told you about.” She took the book back from him, snapped it shut, and tucked it away again. Her hands waved in the air emphatically as she spoke. “See back when sprouts were really becoming, a very large portion of the population lived in this old fort in Wales—I don’t recall the name—that was abandoned after some rich Roman captain died. The problem was, he didn’t stay dead. Nearly three hundred years later he waltzes back into the very occupied ruins with a gaggle of fledglings and starts to rebuild the place. The sprouts, mind you, tried to use their new-found peopledom and handle the situation diplomatically. The story goes that they appeared with their best army and let the vampires see them, and that the vampires laughed at them. The old captain even bent down and called the general of the army a pixie. They’ve never shown themselves to a single vampire since. It’s best not to even bring it up around them.”

“... That’s it? They didn’t squash any of them or set fire to the place?”

Beck made a face. “Goodness no. I believe they all lived there for a century before the whole place was ripped up by a unicorn one of the vampires tried to keep as a pet. That’s what they say at least, and it is true that the Bear King’s grandfather tried to align himself with vampires, so he might have rangled the unicorn for them. A very silly idea. Unicorns are notorious-”

“Focus.” Braxton pinched the bridge of his nose. “And they’ve had this grudge for?”

“Oh I couldn’t even say. Well over a thousand years.”

“Over being called pixies?”

“Well if you’d ever seen a pixie, you’d probably take it as an insult too.” Beck shrugged. “In any case, that’s the only fool-proof way I’ve ever found to identify a vampire, and you have to coax a sprout into helping you to do it.”

“Do they like witches?” He stopped the recording on his phone and tucked it away into his pocket.

Beck hummed. “Maybe. They like me, generally speaking. That’s what really matters.”

“I’m starting to think most magical creatures like you.” He chuckled.

“I have a sparkling disposition. Anyway, I’m hungry and I’m going to get something to eat. Are you coming?”

They were no closer to determining if his newest assignment from the Talamasca was or was not a vampire, and the conversation was clearly over. 

He groaned and resigned himself to having to do things the hard way. “I know a good Korean barbeque in the area.”

“That’ll do. Come on then. I’m buying.”

[maggicktouched]

There are some people who could turn even the most amiable character into a bully, and the priest seemed to be one of them

~Terry Pratchett, Carpe Jugulum