Original: "Birthday Presents." Slash
I don't even know, man.
Ravareau hadn’t had a hellhound since he was younger, but he hadn’t been able to resist when he’d seen the puppy in the window of Melekark’s Magical, Mystical, and Monstrous Pets on his way home from work. He’d gone in and left with the small, growling puff of black, a bag of kibble, a bed, and a dragon bone tucked under his arm.
What he definitely hadn’t remembered was his hellhound having been quite this…lively. The puppy had woken him the next morning by pouncing on the bed enthusiastically, and Ravareau had left the bedroom to find why most people stayed as far from hellhounds as possible.
But he was a dark witch and he was nothing if not a clever one, so he quickly set to work putting his flat back to rights and hellhound-proofing it with the judicious application of magic. By early afternoon, his flat seemed more or less ready for its new occupant.
Knowing he’d end up regretting it much later if he didn’t, Ravareau decided to take his hellhound - now with the moniker Zebani - to the park. Some exercise would do both of them some good.
It was, Ravareau reflected, a very good thing he lived in a paranormal neighborhood, because he shuddered to think about the reactions he’d be getting if he didn’t.
They’d only been at the park for ten minutes when Zebani had turned her leash into little more than ash and gone bounding away, leaving a highly bemused Ravareau behind. Somehow, he’d forgotten hellhounds could manipulate fire.
With something suspiciously close to amused resignation, he set off at a steady job after his hellhound. He rolled his eyes every time he came across a bit of scorched earth, not entirely sure if it was Zebani or if someone had brought their dragon to the park. He almost hoped it was the latter, if only because paranormal pets tended to do much better when they had a playmate that could play on their level.
Ravareau jerked to a stop as he crested a hill, eyes widening in horror as he took in the scene before him. Zebani was streaking down the hill, her eye on the prize as clear as day.
Nestled in the little valley formed by the hills was a gazebo, shading a couple of picnic tables and benches, and currently decked out for a birthday. There were streamers hung from the beams above and the picnic tables were covered with colorful tablecloths and weighed down with food and presents. There was also a staggering variety of paranormals gather around, chatting and laughing easily.
Horrifyingly, however, there was perched atop one of the tables a birthday cake, with cheerfully burning candles. Even from the top of the hill, Ravareau knew instinctively that Zebani would be making a beeline for the cake and the small flames upon it.
“Zebani, come,” he called, without much hope. As expected, she ignored him, undeterred in her quest. She reached them as he took off down the hill, trying to keep his footing on the steep slope. “Zebani, no. Don’t you dare.” His words went unheeded and he watched as - almost in slow motion - Zebani burst through the group under the gazebo and leapt for the cake.
Ravareau watched in fascinated horror as she plunger her snout in the cake and snuffed about. Around her the entire gazebo had gone silent, staring as she left off eating the cake to explore the nature of the candles, which remained lit no matter how she huffed at them.
Ravareau reached the gazebo only steps behind Zebani, gasping for breath. He opened his mouth, apologies tumbling around in his head, but before he could speak, the silence was broken by a long, loud laugh.
Everyone seemed to jump, startled from the sight of Zebani attempting to decimate the cake. Ravareau craned his neck, trying to find the laugher in what really was only a small crowd of people.
When he finally stepped out of the crowd, Ravareau realized why he hadn’t been able to see him in the crowd. While Ravareau topped everyone in the crowd by a couple of inches at least, the laugher seemed to be a few inches shorter than everyone else. He was also unnaturally pale, with deep auburn hair that fell into his eyes. He was also wearing the most ridiculous tie Ravareau had ever seen, with tiny black bats against a teal background. Somehow, despite that, Ravareau felt himself blush all the way to his ears. Cute paranormals had that effect on him.
“I’m so, so incredibly sorry,” he burst out, the crowd somehow - thankfully - having taken the laughter as a cue to return to their party. “I really am. I only just got her and she burned off her leash and took off and -”
The very pretty man held up a very pretty hand, cutting Ravareau off with a laugh. “It is no matter. It has been the highlight of my day, I assure you. Indeed, I believe she is enjoying the forever-flame candles far more than I ever could.”
They both looked at hellhound and cake, and Ravareau gave a little moan of mortification to see Zebani with a now charred looking cake, to all appearances attempting to decimate the candles by flame.
“Really,” the man continued. “Don’t worry about it. She’s, uh…she’s quite brightened the place up.”
Ravareau shot him a disbelieving look, which was received by another laugh. “Please, don’t apologize; she’s lovely. And she’s beating out my coworkers - one of them brought a camera. To a vampire’s birthday party. Will wonders never cease?” He leaned in to say conspiratorially, “Honestly, I don’t think they’ll remember I won’t show up on film until they get those pictures developed.” He rolled his eyes and Ravareau couldn’t help but smile down at the vampire.
Eyes twinkling, the vampire continued, “Now, how about you both introduce yourselves?”
Ravareau’s blush had been fading, but it suddenly returned full-force. “Oh, ah…that’s Zebani, er, my hellhound, obviously. I’m Ravareau.”
The vampire’s hand, when he shook it, was cool and fine-boned and Ravareau was rather glad his blush hadn’t yet faded, because it would be rather telling if he blushed right then.
“Verus. You’re welcome to join us, you know. Your hound seems reluctant to leave the cake, and I’m certainly always willing to make new…friends.” He paused pointedly, grinning slyly up at Ravareau.
He must’ve looked like he was still hesitant, because Verus continued, “My friend, Linny, made some mean fried chicken; it’d be a shame not to try that at least.” As if summoned by magic, a blue-tentacled monster appeared - presumably Linny - brandishing a plate piled high with fried chicken.
The last of Ravareau’s hesitance crumbled like a cookie in milk. “Well, you are the birthday boy and my hound did destroy your cake…so I suppose the least I can do is stay and make…friends.” His ears were burning, but the smile Verus gave him was well worth it.
Ravareau hadn’t had a hellhound since he was younger, but he hadn’t been able to resist when he’d seen the puppy in the window of Melekark’s Magical, Mystical, and Monstrous Pets on his way home from work. He’d gone in and left with the small, growling puff of black, a bag of kibble, a bed, and a dragon bone tucked under his arm.
What he definitely hadn’t remembered was his hellhound having been quite this…lively. The puppy had woken him the next morning by pouncing on the bed enthusiastically, and Ravareau had left the bedroom to find why most people stayed as far from hellhounds as possible.
But he was a dark witch and he was nothing if not a clever one, so he quickly set to work putting his flat back to rights and hellhound-proofing it with the judicious application of magic. By early afternoon, his flat seemed more or less ready for its new occupant.
Knowing he’d end up regretting it much later if he didn’t, Ravareau decided to take his hellhound - now with the moniker Zebani - to the park. Some exercise would do both of them some good.
It was, Ravareau reflected, a very good thing he lived in a paranormal neighborhood, because he shuddered to think about the reactions he’d be getting if he didn’t.
They’d only been at the park for ten minutes when Zebani had turned her leash into little more than ash and gone bounding away, leaving a highly bemused Ravareau behind. Somehow, he’d forgotten hellhounds could manipulate fire.
With something suspiciously close to amused resignation, he set off at a steady job after his hellhound. He rolled his eyes every time he came across a bit of scorched earth, not entirely sure if it was Zebani or if someone had brought their dragon to the park. He almost hoped it was the latter, if only because paranormal pets tended to do much better when they had a playmate that could play on their level.
Ravareau jerked to a stop as he crested a hill, eyes widening in horror as he took in the scene before him. Zebani was streaking down the hill, her eye on the prize as clear as day.
Nestled in the little valley formed by the hills was a gazebo, shading a couple of picnic tables and benches, and currently decked out for a birthday. There were streamers hung from the beams above and the picnic tables were covered with colorful tablecloths and weighed down with food and presents. There was also a staggering variety of paranormals gather around, chatting and laughing easily.
Horrifyingly, however, there was perched atop one of the tables a birthday cake, with cheerfully burning candles. Even from the top of the hill, Ravareau knew instinctively that Zebani would be making a beeline for the cake and the small flames upon it.
“Zebani, come,” he called, without much hope. As expected, she ignored him, undeterred in her quest. She reached them as he took off down the hill, trying to keep his footing on the steep slope. “Zebani, no. Don’t you dare.” His words went unheeded and he watched as - almost in slow motion - Zebani burst through the group under the gazebo and leapt for the cake.
Ravareau watched in fascinated horror as she plunger her snout in the cake and snuffed about. Around her the entire gazebo had gone silent, staring as she left off eating the cake to explore the nature of the candles, which remained lit no matter how she huffed at them.
Ravareau reached the gazebo only steps behind Zebani, gasping for breath. He opened his mouth, apologies tumbling around in his head, but before he could speak, the silence was broken by a long, loud laugh.
Everyone seemed to jump, startled from the sight of Zebani attempting to decimate the cake. Ravareau craned his neck, trying to find the laugher in what really was only a small crowd of people.
When he finally stepped out of the crowd, Ravareau realized why he hadn’t been able to see him in the crowd. While Ravareau topped everyone in the crowd by a couple of inches at least, the laugher seemed to be a few inches shorter than everyone else. He was also unnaturally pale, with deep auburn hair that fell into his eyes. He was also wearing the most ridiculous tie Ravareau had ever seen, with tiny black bats against a teal background. Somehow, despite that, Ravareau felt himself blush all the way to his ears. Cute paranormals had that effect on him.
“I’m so, so incredibly sorry,” he burst out, the crowd somehow - thankfully - having taken the laughter as a cue to return to their party. “I really am. I only just got her and she burned off her leash and took off and -”
The very pretty man held up a very pretty hand, cutting Ravareau off with a laugh. “It is no matter. It has been the highlight of my day, I assure you. Indeed, I believe she is enjoying the forever-flame candles far more than I ever could.”
They both looked at hellhound and cake, and Ravareau gave a little moan of mortification to see Zebani with a now charred looking cake, to all appearances attempting to decimate the candles by flame.
“Really,” the man continued. “Don’t worry about it. She’s, uh…she’s quite brightened the place up.”
Ravareau shot him a disbelieving look, which was received by another laugh. “Please, don’t apologize; she’s lovely. And she’s beating out my coworkers - one of them brought a camera. To a vampire’s birthday party. Will wonders never cease?” He leaned in to say conspiratorially, “Honestly, I don’t think they’ll remember I won’t show up on film until they get those pictures developed.” He rolled his eyes and Ravareau couldn’t help but smile down at the vampire.
Eyes twinkling, the vampire continued, “Now, how about you both introduce yourselves?”
Ravareau’s blush had been fading, but it suddenly returned full-force. “Oh, ah…that’s Zebani, er, my hellhound, obviously. I’m Ravareau.”
The vampire’s hand, when he shook it, was cool and fine-boned and Ravareau was rather glad his blush hadn’t yet faded, because it would be rather telling if he blushed right then.
“Verus. You’re welcome to join us, you know. Your hound seems reluctant to leave the cake, and I’m certainly always willing to make new…friends.” He paused pointedly, grinning slyly up at Ravareau.
He must’ve looked like he was still hesitant, because Verus continued, “My friend, Linny, made some mean fried chicken; it’d be a shame not to try that at least.” As if summoned by magic, a blue-tentacled monster appeared - presumably Linny - brandishing a plate piled high with fried chicken.
The last of Ravareau’s hesitance crumbled like a cookie in milk. “Well, you are the birthday boy and my hound did destroy your cake…so I suppose the least I can do is stay and make…friends.” His ears were burning, but the smile Verus gave him was well worth it.