[ When he speaks, it's clear that both his upper and lower eye-teeth are longer and sharper; moreover, in his upper jaw, the first set of pre-molars alongside have changed as well. Tiny little fangs. How sweet! ]
[ Harry tilts his face up so the Brucolac can see the scales and fangs. Wide stripes of shimmering gold, set into his skin, in a pattern that looks rather like an abrasion. ]
Chased me out a third floor window, which is what happened to my face, then shook me like a rat, which is what happened to my ribs. Tzilan could barely hold them off long enough for us to flee.
[He releases his chin, stepping back, a frown cutting deep lines between his brows. His tone isn't indignant; it's a highly non-rhetorical 'what for', asking what exactly the Seelie found out about Harry doing, and what particular part of it they took offence to.]
[ He tries to hide it, but Harry is hurt. Not so much physically, but he doesn't know how to tell the Brucolac what happened without feeling like he's betrayed Hermione even more. ]
The king and queen think I have the sigils or know where to find them. I don't know if they want me dead, or just beaten and then hauled off for 'questioning'.
Not quite how I'd have put it, but you're not wrong.
[ Harry taps at his false eye. ]
A gift from Alyosha to stop me from bleeding out in the streets. They'll fade in time, but until they do, there's no trouble from the injury. A fair trade, don't you think?
If you're wanted, we need to disseminate the information that the sigils are in other hands, and that they've exchanged owners so many times there's no use chasing you. How many of them are still unhidden, broadcasting their locations?
I was a bit worried about that. I don't ...it's complicated, but I don't really want to show my face too much over the lockets until it's gone. You don't mind, and most others won't, but ...
[ ...but Hermione. There's that distressed look again. ]
Honestly, I don't know. Linn and I were so worn out after that we didn't keep track. I know where a handful are, some broadcasting, some not. One of the hidden ones is now in Solais' possession.
[He sighs, shrugs; can't blame you.] Then we'll keep you from their clutches. [—he says, flatly and carelessly, as if it's as easy as that, thinking who's 'we', you old fool?
[ Harry huffs in annoyance at himself and moves to make sure there's a proper space for the Brucolac on the little, low sofa by the fire. Sit, be a friend. ]
If I were home, it'd be horrific. Shameful. Here, I know what's caused it and it's not the same, but...but I worry what my friends from home think.
[About to start pacing, the Brucolac takes Harry's hint and drops down on the sofa with a sigh.]
Because, what, they're worried you'll use those milk-teeth to their own disadvantage? [Rakish, nudging him, flashing his own, distinctly larger fangs—] Couldn't subdue a bilgerat.
I think I might have a shot, but I refuse to put that to the test. Not even if you find a very small bilgerat.
[ Harry wrinkles up his nose at the thought and, yes, it does show off his tiny kitten teeth. ]
When wizards go off, we don't look human. That's the sum of it. There's, well, that's ...
[ Give him a moment, he's about to have a breakthrough here. Harry looks confused, then unsure. ]
That's common knowledge, and I've seen it in practice, but I don't know if I buy it. Not really, not anymore. Part of it is that there's a belief that the magic of non-humans is unpredictable and wizards who're not quite of human ancestry have traditionally not been treated well. There's a movement to change that, and it's a good movement, but not an easy one. Actively dangerous, at times, really.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[The Brucolac just appears, with only the creak of the door to herald his presence; despite the airy comment, he's concerned, eying Harry.]
You and the room.
no subject
[ When he speaks, it's clear that both his upper and lower eye-teeth are longer and sharper; moreover, in his upper jaw, the first set of pre-molars alongside have changed as well. Tiny little fangs. How sweet! ]
And Ridere for beating me senseless for the face.
no subject
[He flits closer, frowning down at Harry—with two fingers beneath his chin, urging his face upwards to inspect it more closely.]
no subject
[ Harry tilts his face up so the Brucolac can see the scales and fangs. Wide stripes of shimmering gold, set into his skin, in a pattern that looks rather like an abrasion. ]
Chased me out a third floor window, which is what happened to my face, then shook me like a rat, which is what happened to my ribs. Tzilan could barely hold them off long enough for us to flee.
no subject
[He releases his chin, stepping back, a frown cutting deep lines between his brows. His tone isn't indignant; it's a highly non-rhetorical 'what for', asking what exactly the Seelie found out about Harry doing, and what particular part of it they took offence to.]
no subject
The king and queen think I have the sigils or know where to find them. I don't know if they want me dead, or just beaten and then hauled off for 'questioning'.
no subject
[He hisses, not surprised but unnerved, tongue lashing in sudden anxiety.]
And the scales, the fangs?
no subject
[ Harry taps at his false eye. ]
A gift from Alyosha to stop me from bleeding out in the streets. They'll fade in time, but until they do, there's no trouble from the injury. A fair trade, don't you think?
no subject
[He rubs at his jaw, still frowning at Harry.]
If you're wanted, we need to disseminate the information that the sigils are in other hands, and that they've exchanged owners so many times there's no use chasing you. How many of them are still unhidden, broadcasting their locations?
no subject
[ ...but Hermione. There's that distressed look again. ]
Honestly, I don't know. Linn and I were so worn out after that we didn't keep track. I know where a handful are, some broadcasting, some not. One of the hidden ones is now in Solais' possession.
no subject
He studies Harry a moment, brow still furrowed.]
Do you mind?
no subject
[ Harry huffs in annoyance at himself and moves to make sure there's a proper space for the Brucolac on the little, low sofa by the fire. Sit, be a friend. ]
If I were home, it'd be horrific. Shameful. Here, I know what's caused it and it's not the same, but...but I worry what my friends from home think.
[ There's only one friend from home here now. ]
no subject
Because, what, they're worried you'll use those milk-teeth to their own disadvantage? [Rakish, nudging him, flashing his own, distinctly larger fangs—] Couldn't subdue a bilgerat.
no subject
[ Harry wrinkles up his nose at the thought and, yes, it does show off his tiny kitten teeth. ]
When wizards go off, we don't look human. That's the sum of it. There's, well, that's ...
[ Give him a moment, he's about to have a breakthrough here. Harry looks confused, then unsure. ]
That's common knowledge, and I've seen it in practice, but I don't know if I buy it. Not really, not anymore. Part of it is that there's a belief that the magic of non-humans is unpredictable and wizards who're not quite of human ancestry have traditionally not been treated well. There's a movement to change that, and it's a good movement, but not an easy one. Actively dangerous, at times, really.