Chapter Text
Contrary to popular beliefs, vampires are not monsters.
Is Ozza biased because he is one? Maybe. But, sue him, he’s sick of being labeled as one by common humans.
Gods forbid, he, or any of his fellow vampires, go near the town and hear the screams before they even see the humans. Ears are burst by screeches of fear from people that don’t even know him; from people that were born after him and will die before him. People that he could easily turn into his next appetizer but doesn’t.
Why? Because he isn’t a monster.
He hunts for his food all the same as the humans do, just with more pizazz and power. Totally normal behavior.
But, trying to convince people of what he is and isn’t aside, he is definitely sending Jack to get his own gods-damned—what was it called again? ‘Toothpaste’?—supplies the next time he runs out, because this is ridiculous.
Ozza doesn’t even try to bargain for the small box in his hand, he knows the human who owns the shop will not budge from their poor hiding spot in any circumstance. So, he simply walks out the door.
All the while, he finds himself questioning—again—why Jack insists on using the stupid human resource in the first place when he has perfectly good magic that lacks the con of running out on a monthly basis.
And then immediately after, he questions why he even agreed to go into town for Jack in the first place.
One could suggest it’s because Jack is his friend. Ozza would deny it immediately.
Because the man has a daughter, he seriously should be able to get his own ‘toothpaste’. Ozza has no idea how they both have made it this far.
Power thrumming through him at his beckoning, a beat passes before large bat wings erupt from around his shoulder blades, strong faux bones built from nothing but magic. If anyone is still around to see him, they’ve definitely screamed themselves into a hiding spot by now.
You would think the townspeople would be used to it by now—seeing a vampire in broad daylight—with how many generations of vampires that came before him, but he supposes they are all so engrossed in their own twisted views of vampires that it cancels out their logical thinking. It doesn’t matter to him regardless; the concerns of humans are not a concern of his own.
He gives a few experimental flaps of his wings before lifting himself into the air, flying straight for the forest of towering pines that surrounds the human town. He’s out of view from the town in a few heartbeats, not eager to stick around any longer.
The forest welcomes him, and he takes a deep breath to calm his high-strung nerves. Even existing around a lot of people just gives him the faintest bit of anxiety. Not that he’d openly admit that, though.
The flight towards his home becomes a rhythmic lull, the forest reading the same as it does every day; trees upon trees, with occasional life spotted between them. Ozza notes a few deer grazing. He’ll have to go on a hunt later.
Distantly, though, something catches his ears. Straining to listen over the wind rushing by, Ozza can hear unusual amounts of activity through the trees. Brows furrowing, he veers to the right of his original course and glides closer to take a look. Once he reaches a safe distance away, he maneuvers onto a tree and squints.
What he finds, however, makes him wrinkle his nose in disgust and, dare he say, fury.
Werewolves.
For some odd reason, the resident rats of the area are setting up a camp in the forest. In his forest. He tolerates their existence at a far, far distance, but this camp is being set up much closer to his home than he’d like. Any closer and they could probably spread disease or something to his residents!
Ozza’s overwhelmed by the temptation to rampage in and tell them off; maybe take some pelts while he’s at it. However, their numbers vastly outweigh him, and he scoffs.
Scratch hunting the deer, he’ll have to rally some of the others to take care of the pests at night.
Awkwardly taking off from the tree, he starts retracing his flight, groaning inwardly at the thought of dealing with the wolves. But he casts it aside in favor of focusing on his current task.
-
It isn’t long before the manor—three floors of glorious Victorian architecture—comes into view as well. With practiced precision, Ozza weaves through the trees, opting to land on his room’s balcony as opposed to the open courtyard on the other side of the building. The air, thrumming with magic, seems to reach out and welcome him as he commands his wings to retreat and opens his balcony doors.
Entering his large, third-floor bedroom, he makes a mental note that, yes, the entire room is exactly as he left it. Walking into the study attached to the room, he does the same thing there. Once his paranoid mind is settled by his evaluations, Ozza makes for the large doors to the hall, opening them. He is immediately greeted by the clean, clear, red-velvety-carpeted hallway, void of people all the way to the staircase down to the second floor.
With a hum of contentment, he walks confidently down the hall, passing his aunt and grandmother’s rooms on the way. As he is about to pass his mother’s room, which is right before the stairway, the door flings open.
“Ozza World Corvus, where have you been?”
Ozza rolls his eyes with playful annoyance, turning to face the doorway.
As he expected, his mother, Kara, is standing there, dressed as elegantly as he typically sees her, with her hands crossed over her chest.
“Jack asked me to go to the town to get him this,” he holds up the box in his hand and rattles it quietly. “And, for some reason, I complied,”
Kara narrows her eyes. “You’re the Count of this manor, you’re not an errand boy,” she scolds.
“Why does it matter? It’s not like the humans can do anything to me,”
Kara sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not that you went to the town, it’s that you weren’t here. Chilled and Max got into a fight again. Mindy tried to break them up and nearly got a broken nose,” Kara lowers her voice. “My mother nearly came down,”
Ozza suppresses a shiver, casting a quick glance at the door he’d just walked past. He sighs, giving a mock happy thumbs-up. “I’ll be sure to give them a stern talking-to,” he adjusts his stance. “But what is more concerning is that I saw wolves in the forest, far beyond the boundaries of their town,”
Kara’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“They were setting up a camp, a whole lot of them. It looked like most, if not all, of their pack, or else I would’ve chased them out myself,”
Kara opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a shout and a loud crash. They both go stalk still before Kara hisses a quiet “Again?!”.
They both hear shuffling from the room down the hall, and while Kara freezes, Ozza just rucks up his button-up’s sleeves and marches for the stairs.
The commotion is loud but resounds from the second flight of stairs at the other side of the second-floor hall, so he huffs and quickens his pace, tossing the box of toothpaste onto one of the tables in the room. Body thrumming with magic, he summons his wings again—for the best dramatic effect—and descends the splitting flight, finding most of his House’s members crowded in the large, open ballroom-esque foyer. They are all crowded around the two culprits; his uncle by marriage, Max, and the biggest thorn in his side, Chilled, standing over a broken flower vase on the floor below a painting of his grandmother.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Ozza elevates his voice, wings spread as he reaches the open space.
Instantly the commotion quiets, heads turning to him.
The vampires part to give him way to the source, finding Max with a bleeding nose and ripped-up knuckles, being held by a fussing Reeny. Standing across from him is Chilled, looking ominously untouched, a devilish grin on his face.
“Ah, there he is,”
Just hearing Chilled’s voice makes Ozza want to hiss, but he composes himself and stalks towards them.
Ignoring Chilled, Ozza turns to the one of his own blood, Reeny. She turns to him with a fearful look, but he softens his eyes. “What happened?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened,” Max cuts Reeny off with a snarl. “This- this, guy, defiled our family! Again!” He points an accusatory finger at Chilled, who feins shock with a hand spread on his chest.
“Who? Me? I would never!”
They both ignore Chilled, Ozza keeping his focus on Max.
“He needs to be exiled already! Why do we keep him around if all he does is cause- cause chaos!?” He wipes his mouth of stray drops of blood. “Not to mention property damage,” he adds bitterly, gesturing to the shattered vase at his feet.
Ozza folds his wings in, bringing his hands up, alight with magic, to stop the bleeding from Max’s nose. “Watch your words, Max. Chilled is not to be exiled,” he refrains from growling. “Yet,” he mutters quietly.
“Yeah, Platy, listen to your Count and watch what you say,”
Ozza, unable to ignore him any longer, turns a pointed glare at Chilled. “Bite your tongue, Chaos,” he hisses. “You only live where you stand because my mother pities you. I should have your head for everything you have spoken and enacted against my family,”
Chilled raises a brow. “I thought you were the Count, why is what mommy thinks so important?” He mocks, and then smirks. “You act like you’re so held back. You know I could give you my head whenever you like,”
Ozza’s final string of restraint snaps and all the other vampires see is a bright blue bubble of magic surrounding Chilled before he disappears.
Ozza huffs in distaste, teleporting Chilled back to his room, where he belongs. If he could, he’d send him ages away in the wilderness. Unfortunately, he can’t teleport anywhere outside of his memory. A pity, really.
Lowering his hand as his magic dissipates, Ozza sighs in aggravation before softening and turning to Reeny. “Please take Max to my mother, she should be able to fix him right up. And then afterwards,” he looks pointedly at his uncle. “Meet with me in my study, please,”
They both nod, and Reeny helps Max hobble up the staircase.
He looks at the others gathered around him. “Apologies for not being here earlier to dissipate the squander,”
The vampires around him begin to awkwardly disperse, but someone in particular catches his eyes.
“Himi,”
Said vampire freezes, turning to look at Ozza nervously. “Yes..? Count Ozza?”
Ozza waits for a moment for the room to empty itself before turning a hardened expression to Himi.
“You better start considering which side holds your loyalty more,”
He says nothing more, leaving the older vampire, who is frozen in place, to ascend the stairs.
~~
Ozza opens the door to his study to find Max, Kara, and Reeny all inside. Max is sitting on one of the leather chairs, Kara standing over him with green light emitting from her hands and eyes.
Kara keeps her focus, but both Reeny and Max turn to Ozza when he enters, closing the door behind him.
Ozza raises a brow at the crowd but says nothing as he navigates to his desk, sitting in his own leather chair.
“You wanted to speak with me, Ozza?”
Ozza nods. “With you, but I suppose the other two can also be in here. This matter involves them just as much as it does me,”
At his words, Kara’s attention turns to him.
He sighs. “Firstly, Max, I appreciate your strong and persistent loyalty to this family,” he sends the man a small smile. “It assures me that I’m doing my job properly,”
Max nods, finally back in top shape from Kara’s healing. Said woman steps away from Max, sitting in a chair herself.
“However, these recurring fights with Chilled are getting out of hand. I can feel the air of uncertainty from the other vampires through the manor,” he pauses. “We need to seriously discuss removing the eldest Chaos from this House,”
Max and Kara outburst immediately at this, but both with differing opinions.
“Thank gods! It’s about time!”
“Ozza, we’ve already discussed this! We can’t!”
Locking eyes with his mother, Ozza nearly pleads. “He is getting out of hand. He has no loyalty to this House; he has no reason to. He and Himi are not real parts of House Corvus, and never will be,” He hisses towards the end of his sentence.
Kara faintly mutters. “Tot Corvus,”
He doesn’t acknowledge her correction.
“Himi may not be causing problems,” Ozza continues. “…but his hesitancy to choose if he wants to stay here or to support Chilled is making me uncertain of keeping either of them here,”
“Well of course he is going to be hesitant to leave Chilled; he’s his brother,” Reeny jumps in from her place standing behind Max. “And there are no chances for them becoming part of the House because there are no marriage opportunities in our family for them,” she bites her lip. “Apart from you, Ozza,”
“Apart from me,” Ozza echoes bitterly. “But that would be illogical anyways. I have no interest in marrying either Chaoses, and we wouldn’t be able to produce an heir for the Corvus name,”
“That isn’t actually that true,” Kara points out. “My mother has told me of same-sex marriages in the past being able to continue their bloodline. Apparently there’s a spell that-“
Ozza slams a hand down on his desk. “We are stopping this conversation immediately,” he hisses. “I am not giving either Chaos the validation of being welcomed into the House. Either I exile Chilled, or he continues to make problems for us,”
They all stay silent for a moment.
“Exiling Chilled would only bring us more issues than answers,” Reeny says quietly. “At least with him in the manor, we can keep an eye on him. Given free reign, who knows what he’ll do,” she lifts her eyes to Ozza. “He would more than likely try to kill you if you exile him,”
“He would be a fool to try on my life,” Ozza snaps. “But I’ll entertain your point,” he hisses through gritted teeth, placing an open palm on his desk and mentally reaching out. The magic of the manor responds to him immediately. “Still, even the manor grows concerned of his presence. I fear the longer we wait on this decision, the more danger we could be in,”
He feels a hand on his, and he opens his eyes to make direct eye contact with his mother.
“I know it’s hard for you but please. We need to keep them here. It’s the safest option,” Kara’s eyes are pained.
Ozza pulls his hand away and stands up. “Fine. Have it your way,” he grits his teeth. “But we all know that, one day, this will come back to haunt us. The remains of the Chaos clan are not to be underestimated,” Ozza doesn’t miss the guilt that flashes on Kara’s face. “But when the day comes that they try to do anything, I will be ready. So you three better be ready, too,”
And with that, he opens his study door and walks out of the room.
—
Kara sighs shakily as she watches the door close behind her son. She sets her face in her hands, leaning her elbows on the desk. “Gods, why does this have to be so hard?”
She feels hands begin to rub her shoulders comfortingly, and looks up from her hands to find her younger sister.
“I don’t know,” Reeny mutters. “But it’s our consequences to deal with. Our choices as young vampires were… not the smartest,”
“You mean my choices as a young vampire,” Kara spits bitterly. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Reens,”
“What I want to know,” Max butts in. “Is why this is a matter of exile or not. Can’t Grandcount Corvus, I dunno, turn Chilled into a frog or something? Make him less of a nuisance instead of killing him or risking him going on a vengeance mission?”
Kara laughs humorlessly. “No, my mother wouldn’t so much as breathe on the Chaos brothers if it meant harm to them,” she sighs again. “Especially if it benefits her grandson,” she pauses.
“She wouldn’t do something like that for her bloodline? To better the atmosphere of her House?” He lifts an eyebrow.
Kara shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t. Not for me, anyways,”
“Why though?”
“Because she quite liked the Chaoses’ father,”
Max went quiet.
“And Ozza only reminds her of my biggest failure,”
—
After a few paces through the hall, Ozza finds himself descending to the second floor again.
However, this time, with his initial intention still intact.
He finds himself in the second-floor sitting room, a wide open space that divides two corners of bedrooms, navigating to one of said corners. Standing before the door of one of the bigger bedrooms on the second floor, he quietly knocks.
Ozza hears muffled voices from the other side. “Was that a knock? Is someone at the door?”
“Maybe? I dunno,”
“Could you go check?”
There’s shuffling and then a quiet thud, a yelp, and then a louder thud.
Heavy footsteps, and then the door swings open with a little too much force.
Ozza holds back a giggle. Standing before him is a very disheveled Wei, whose eyes widen the moment she sees him.
“Oh! Err, Count Ozza! Hi!”
“What!?” The second pipes up from inside the room.
“Hey Wei,” Ozza chuckles. “Is your dad available?”
Before the young vampire can answer, there’s more shuffling and then an equally frazzled Jack appears behind her.
“Um, hey Oz- uh C-Count- Count Ozza,”
Ozza rolls his eyes. “Hey… what are you up to?”
“Oh nothing. Y’know… gathering hunting equipment… ‘n stuff…”
“Uhuh,” Ozza eyes him for a second. “Wei, why don’t you, ah, finish ‘gathering hunting equipment’ while your pop and I have a chat,”
Wei nods and retreats back into the room, while Jack gives him a nervous glance but obeys the passive aggressive command.
“So… uh, what do you want to chat about?”
Ozza stares at him for a while as they walk to one of the window walls. Stopping in front of the window, feeling Jack begin to squirm underneath his gaze, Ozza produces the box he’d been tasked with retrieving.
“You asked me to get you this?”
Jack’s features immediately relax. “Oh! Yeah, thank you!”
The blond-and-black-haired male takes the box of toothpaste from him, looking back up at Ozza.
Ozza raises a brow. “I thought you both were going hunting earlier? The reason why I went to town instead of you?”
“Er, yeah, about that,” Jack laughs nervously. “We got caught up in, um, reading old letters and notes from her mum,”
Ozza softens at that. “Ah. Still haven’t uncovered anything on her whereabouts?”
Jack shakes his head. Ozza wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulders and gives him a gentle squeeze, feeling the other vampire melt into his hold. “Well, to take your minds for a break, I was planning on gathering a few people for a hunting party at sunset anyways,” Ozza leads him back to the room where Wei was emerging. “We haven’t organized a group hunt in a while, so I thought that, well, there’s no better time than the present,” he says, leaving out his desire to investigate the werewolf camp. “Would you two like to join in?”
Both Jack and Wei’s features light up, and the youngest nods vigorously.
Ozza smiles. “Good. Now, would you go and invite a few others to come along? I have someone I have to invite myself,” he trails off into a grumble, but the duo don’t dwell on it too much, Wei eagerly rushing down the long hallways to knock on various doors, Jack following not too far behind.
As Ozza is making his way to the stairs to the ground floor, he hears activity at the opposite flight of stairs, turning to find Max walking down.
Ozza waves him over.
“I’m going to lead a hunt out at sundown, do you want to join us?”
Max raises a brow. “I typically would, but you don’t seem too pleased… why’s that?”
Ozza groans. “I’m going to bring the Chaos brothers with us. Figures it could get the energy out of their systems,”
Max scrunches his nose. “Yeah, no. I’ll stay here and hold down the fort. Have fun,”
“I’ll try my best,”
Max pats his shoulder before heading down the hall towards his room, Ozza’s eyes following for a moment before he sucks a breath in and makes his way to the stairs.
Walking into the now-empty ground foyer, he makes a left u-turn from the base of the stairs to make his way towards the back of the manor, where a secluded and lonely utility-turned-bedroom lay.
Adopting a wholly different demeanor, his face goes cold as he approaches the door. Ozza raps his knuckles on the door harshly.
It opens slowly, revealing a timid Himi Chaos.
“Himi,” Ozza speaks coolly, though not without bite to his tone. “I’m extending a tenuous invite to you and your brother to come along on a hunting expedition, to get the tension from the fights out. We leave at sunset, be out here or stay. I won’t make you come if you don’t desire to,”
Himi nods stiffly, and Ozza turns to walk away before he even closes the door.
-
A few hours later, Ozza descends into the foyer once more.
He already finds a small gathering of vampires in the foyer, among them being Jack and Wei, Shelby, Courtilly, Cameron, and Ressnie. He gives a small nod of approval to nobody in particular about the group before him, and hopes this is all who will be accompanying him.
He finds them all with their various weapons of choice; father and daughter bearing similar iron daggers, and siblings—Courtilly and Cameron—holding matching carved bows with silver-tipped arrows. Both Ressnie and Shelby bore nothing but back-up silver daggers, both splinter-clan vampires preferring to use their magic over hand-held weapons.
Ozza walks over to them. “Alright. Everyone here? Everyone ready?”
He received six nods, and he smiled. “Good. We’ll be taking the southeastern route for a few kilometers, towards the creek that rests between us and the werewolf settlement,”
As he rounds the vampires up, the gentle silence of the manor is broken by a door abruptly opening and closing.
“Leaving so soon without me?”
Ozza inwardly groans, and turns to find Chilled stalking towards them, a dagger sheathed and strapped to his hip.
He raises a brow. “Deciding to join us?”
“Well you invited me, didn’t you?” Chilled smirks.
Ozza rolls his eyes. “Just stay in line and stay with the group, and we won’t have issues,”
He doesn’t give Chilled time to respond, walking to the head of the group and towards the towering entrance doors of the manor.
The biting cold of the evening air welcomes him outside, the sky still a shade of blue as the remnants of sunlight fade away below the darkening shadows of pines.
The group follows him out quietly, he hears a few deep breaths taken.
He turns to them all expectantly, and, one by one, they all shift into their bat forms. Ozza is the last to transform, taking the shape of a golden-crowned flying fox at the head of the mismatched group of bats. Together in a small swarm, they all take flight for the side of the forest behind the manor.
He hears nothing but quiet wingbeats behind him as they weave through the trees, passing over little nightlife on the way. It’s oddly serene, and he realizes how long it’s been since the last group hunt he’s led. Swiveling his ears around, he takes note of the sets of wings behind him, counting all seven of his vampires.
Surprising.
The several kilometer flight goes by swiftly and quietly, much to Ozza’s contentment. As expected, the creek comes and goes from view, gently reflecting the half-moon’s borrowed light. If any of his party question why they’re flying past it, they make no sound.
What isn’t expected, however, is the growing presence of light in the midst of the trees. As they near it, the light grows into the shape of a large campfire, surrounded by numerous tents.
He hears the wingbeats around him falter, and even he is taken off-guard. The little camp has grown significantly since that afternoon.
Ozza leads the bats closer, curiosity getting the better of him. He perches on a low pine branch fifty or so feet from the edge of the campsite, which is fluttering with wolf activity. Most of them are in their human forms, mingling and laughing together. But there are a handful in their wolf forms, standing guard at the perimeter of the grounds, ears swiveling in every direction.
The others hang onto varying other branches around him, and he hears their quiet, confused squeaks, speaking his exact thoughts.
Why are the wolves camping in a rightfully vampire-owned forest?
Ozza squeaks quickly and quietly, instructing the others into a now-reconnaissance mission.
They would split off into groups, one pair and two trios, and try to gather intel as to why the wolves are there. Jack and Wei fly off first, aiming to circle around the grounds. Uneasy, Courtilly, and Shelby fly off to the right of the grounds. Ozza, with an inward sigh, stays where he is with Chilled and Ressnie waiting.
His plan is simple; wait for a wolf or two to stray just out of sight of the ground, and then use his hypnotism to get answers.
But, in his mind, he executes his plan alone. In reality, he isn’t alone. And while Ressnie is quiet and patient, Chilled isn’t so much.
Without too much second thought, Chilled suddenly flies off his branch.
Ozza’s eyes trail the silver-haired bat with disdain before he ultimately flies off his branch too. He isn’t about to let Chilled alert the whole pack of their presence.
He hears Ressnie behind him, thankfully, but his focus is on the smaller bat ahead of him who is aiming for a tree that is simply way too close to the ground for comfort.
Ozza tries to order him away, but the attempt is in vain. The combination of his squeaks and the sloppy landing Chilled makes on the tree is enough to catch the attention of two wolves at the perimeter.
Ozza makes a break for a high branch out of panic, and watches the two wolves stalk towards Chilled’s location.
It would be so easy for Ozza to sit back and let Chilled fight the two of them alone, but both his conscience and his mother would never let him live it down.
He turns to the tricolored bat beside him.
“Go down and make a little noise. Try to lead them towards the creek. I’ll flank and take them out,”
Ressnie nods and quickly flies off.
Ozza waits a moment, listening. When he hears a few loud squeaks from Ressnie, he takes a deep breath and flies down to the ground.
When he reaches the cold soil, he transforms. And, with his bearings recollected, Ozza sees red.
And orange.
Through the brush, two large wolves are stalking. The distant fire illuminates a dark red fur, and a fiery orange fur.
The orange wolf makes a low huff, sniffing at the ground.
The red wolf growls quietly in response, casting a wary glance behind them.
Ozza watches the wolves with humored curiosity, wondering what they were saying to each other, if anything at all.
“If they weren’t so dirty, they’d be kinda cute,”
Ozza nearly jumps out of his skin, turning to find Chilled directly next to him. His eyes narrow. “What the hell did you do that for?”
Chilled shrugs. “Keeping you on your toes. Don’t want you getting mugged by a werewolf,”
Ozza rolls his eyes. “How kind of you,”
The brunette hums. “Eh, more so I just don’t want you dying to anyone’s hands but mine,”
If Ozza had fur or feathers, they would’ve all stood on end. Seething, he turns and grabs Chilled’s arm.
“I think it’s best you learn to bite your tongue, Chaos,” he hisses quietly. “I told you to stay in line, yet here we are,”
Chilled glares at him, opening his mouth, but Ozza cuts him off.
“Stay in the trees, or I will clip your wings. The mutts are mine,” Ozza growls, before crouching out of the bushes and beginning his hunt.
He is aware of the flitting silhouette of Ressnie leading the wolves deeper into the dark forest. Ozza could almost chuckle at their stupidity.
They’re little ways from the creek by the time the orange wolf lifts his head from sniffing the dirt. He snuffs dejectedly.
The red wolf scoffs.
Orange, in response, snorts.
Red bares his teeth and nips the orange wolf’s ear. He turns around, only to halt in his tracks.
“Heading somewhere?” Ozza is leaning against a sturdy pine, acting as the obstacle keeping the wolves from their pack.
Both of them bare their teeth.
Orange snarls.
Red smacks him with his stiffened tail.
Ozza lifts his empty hands. “No need to be so aggressive, boys. I’m unarmed! You wouldn’t hurt an unarmed soul, would you?”
He obviously gets no real worded response, only huffs and another growl.
Ozza chuckles. “Alright, you’ve got me,” his hand starts to glow blue as he summons his magic. The tendrils of magic crawl along his arm, glowing palms casting a blue light over the little clearing, illuminating the wolves and Ozza. He sees the red wolf’s eyes widen, but not at his magic; the red wolf is staring directly at Ozza. “Let’s cut to the chase then, shall we?”
Red yelps at Orange.
The orange wolf whimpers but runs out of the clearing at the red wolf’s second bark. Ozza doesn’t mind it too much, though, hearing Ressnie stir from her position in the trees to give chase.
“Playing the hero, huh? It never ends well for those, unfortunately,” Ozza approaches the wolf, who does nothing. He stands there, limbs shaking as he stares up at Ozza. Ozza, on the other hand, is having a great time. He balls his hands to fists, magic overflowing from his hands. “Now, I’ll make this quick and painless. And don’t worry, once we’re done, your fur will be put to good use decorating my wall,” Ozza hisses and advances, the wolf giving a warning snarl, snapping his jaws threateningly.
He itches to lunge at the wolf and tear at him with his bare hands but something holds him back. He reckons it’s the idea of having to clean himself up afterwards. Blood may taste good, but he doesn’t really want to wear it. Instead, he summons his wings and opts for an intimidation approach. “I’ll make you pretty, don’t worry. Now, mutt,” he bites back a laugh at the adrenaline rush. “Heel,”
The wolf scrunches into a tight ball with his eyes closed, and Ozza feels a surge of magic run through his body. He’s always wanted to use hypnotism on a werewolf, he’s just never had the opportunity. At the thought, a grin crawls onto his face, and he mutters the last incantations of the spell.
A moment passes.
The wolf peeks an eye open.
Nothing happens.
Ozza looks down at his hands and then the wolf in bewilderment. But instead of letting his guard down, he tries again.
And again.
But nothing happens.
His magic flows through his veins with no outlet, the wolf feeling no effect.
The red beast in question realizes this too, and stands up with his tail stiff and pointed high, a challenging look on his face, as if daring him to try again.
Ozza hisses in rage, but the wolf lunges before he has time to cast another spell.
He jumps out of the way in time to avoid the brunt of the hit but sharpened claws catch the tail end of his leg. Ozza recovers, but the wolf is quick on his feet and launches another attack as Ozza tries and ultimately fails the hypnotism for the fourth time.
Instinctively, he brings his left arm up in self-defense as the wolf lunges towards him, but that is his first mistake.
Ozza is unable to bite back the cry that escapes his lips at the pain that blossoms in his body, giant jaws enveloping nearly his entire arm, huge teeth ripping through his flesh as if he were wet paper. He gets a glimpse at the beast’s eyes for a split second, seeing the spring green quality to them; he could almost call them pretty, and intelligent, considering the wolf doesn’t rip his arm off the moment teeth meet bone.
If he could focus on anything aside from not passing out from blood loss, Ozza would have bitterly laughed at the idea of the creature’s “kindness” for sparing him that small increase of pain.
Shakily conjuring a discharge of magic in his right hand, he sends it directly into the stomach of the wolf, hurling him away, shredding his arm that much further as jaws are forcibly moved from their lock. The wolf collides with a tree and Ozza steps back, furious and lightheaded as waves of exhaustion from the spell attempts and blood loss wash over him. He’s drained of the energy required to cast larger spells, and finds his options dwindling.
He barely stops himself from stumbling, gripping his left bicep, blood dripping from his forearm down to each fingertip. It isn’t a good look for a Count, having an eviscerated arm. It isn’t a good feel, either.
“I don’t know what went wrong,” Ozza clenches his teeth, feeling the most defeated he’s felt in a long, long time. “..but I’ll be back for you,” he threatens. “And I won’t stop until I have your hide,”
And ignoring the searing pain in his arm, wounds freely flowing powerful blood, he transforms into his bat form, swiftly making an escape to the treetops.