[i]What now indeed.[/i]

Parry had an unpleasant evening after getting back to the Bunker, not least of all because everyone took the time to berate him for bungling the plan and putting them all in danger. There were more than a few questioning glanes about the wings and the sword that decapitated vampires when it didn't look sharp enough to cut through a tomato.

To the city at large, from a street wizard to the highest circles of vampire power, Parael was considered an eccentric and flirtatious wizard.

de Lacy and Rikive were the only ones who knew what he was. That cat was out of that bag, but there were only looks- nothing asked out loud.

And Parry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nothing like eating a bad tuna sandwich, but his hands felt absolutely filthy. Like they were covered in slime and grease. Holding Cym's sword negated the feeling every now and then, but whenever it came back, he would catch a brief flash of something- a metal hatchet burying itself in the skull of a woman.

A bearded man screaming "FIRE!" to a line of blue-clothed soldiers.

A grey sky over an ash covered field, scalped bodies.

[i]Well... this is new.[/i]

"Good news: We have a prisoner, and the chief coven on the East Side is blown to hell," Parry winced, holding his broken nose in proper position- he would be damned if it healed crooked. He had slunk low enough to pull a set of old green scrubs out of his enchanted bag to wear. Leftovers from a one-night-stand he'd enjoyed with a male witch. He'd never had binding hexes used on him in that way, and he wanted a memento. "I had a thought- and it's a long shot- but... what about the fairy court? de Lacy had loose control of the court to begin with. I wouldn't be surprised if the Spring Queen has just closed up the hall and decided to wait this whole thing out. Not that I get a say in this..."