Tempers at BreakfastMature

Gabriel sat in the same seat he'd been in the night before, between Dawn and Dorian. Sitting back from the table his arms folded over his chest his eyes looked at the empty plate in front of him.

“I see the heathens still aren’t eating.” Wick commented loudly at the end of the table.

“Keep a civil tongue” Lou snarled at her.

“How dare you give me orders?” Wick spat, she stood the air around her shimmered her skin crawled with black fire.

“Wick.” Dorian slammed his hands on the table, upsetting his wine glass, and stood his eyes blazing. The hall shook and Gabriel stood as the marble floor rolled beneath them. “Enough.” Dorian’s voice was deafening making everyone ears ring. The air cleared and the witch king looked at Wick for a moment longer before taking his seat, gracefully folding his legs. “Wick,” he said quietly casually righting his wine glass “I believe you have things to do?” Wick’s lip curled then turned and stalked out. “My apologies” Dorian said his voice pleasant again “my people are used to Wick’s outbursts.” He watched Gabriel sit down again. “You are not even able to defend yourselves. When we have finished I will remove your bindings on one condition.”

“Which is?” Dawn asked as Gabriel moved from the table again lighting a cigarette.

“Gabriel, I do not mind you smoking near me.” Dorian said the vampyre didn’t look at him or reply and Dorian shrugged. “My conditions are…”

“You said one.” Raoul growled from further down the table.

“I did.” Dorian said “but I wish to reiterate an old one which is that my house and the surrounding land is neutral ground, no fighting unless it is a means of training.”

“Or defending” Gabriel muttered Dorian's gaze was patient.

“And the other?” Maxwell asked.

“The other is, that I would like to see examples of your magick and document it, if that is agreeable?”

“Fine by me.” Gabriel said.

“Fair enough.” Lou agreed Dorian smiled widely.




The End

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