Drago's Place

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan, having been in Russia already, had no issue disapparating to Drago's place, having gotten the address only once. He hoped that this was the right place, toting a large vase and sporting an evil smirk on his face as he rapped on the door with a large hand, hoping that Drago was somewhat contained; he wasn't too keen on fighting off werewolves at the moment.

 

[Drago Maximus]

Drago, hearing the knock on the door, growled lightly and felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle. He dropped his booted feet off of the table and sniffed the air. He recognized the scent, so he was sure it wasn't a stranger. But of course this didn't mean that it wasn't someone who meant him no harm. On edge and very cautious, he walked up to the door and shouted through it, "Who's there? This is private property and if don't state your intentions, you will suffer."

 

[Tristan Drage]

"Calm down, Drago," Tristan replied in amusement, Drago's tone making him want to laugh out loud, "I'm simply an old friend bringing yourself a long deserved present." He paused for a moment, gripping the vase, and then added, "It's Drage- Tristan, of course."

 

[Drago Maximus]

Drago cleared his throat with a snort and pulled the door open, his hair ruffling in the wake of the wind. "Why didn't you say so earlier?" He called out, his husky voice echoing back from the thick forest around him. "C'mon in. It's not much, but it's home." He stood aside and offered Tristan space to enter.


(((So we're on the same page, Drago's house is a little run down wooden house. It's really small. Think Hagrids Hut, but with like three more rooms.)))

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan nodded at Drago, understanding the concept that just because somewhere was small did not mean it was not home. "I didn't say so earlier," he chuckled, "Because being wanted by the Ministry, I don't advertise my name in public. Even in Mother Russia."

Picking up the vase with a strong hand, he took a seat on the couch in the sitting room, setting the object of interest down with a clunk. "Like your present, Drago?" he inquired, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips, "I promise there's more to this than the eyes can perceive at first."

 

[Drago Maximus]

Drago's interested was piqued. He raised a bushy eyebrow and leaned down to examine the vase. This close, he could smell a faint and familiar odor, but he couldn't make out what it was. Instead he allowed his yellow-ish eyes scan the design, sneering slightly. A vase like this had no place in his home. He stood up and grunted a thanks, wondering what Tristan's cryptic comment had meant.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan smirked as he watched Drago observing the vase, and he intoned, "I'd back up a bit if I were you, chap- It's quite the present." His ice blue eyes watched the vase as it started to shimmer and wriggle a bit, turning back into its regular shape and drooping over to the side. It wasn't fully formed, however, and those who didn't know what it was wouldn't be able to tell. "I never was that good at Animate to inanimate Transfiguration," he commented with a smirk.

 

[Drago Maximus]

As the vase began to change form, Drago jumped back and grabbed Tristan roughly. "What sort of a trick is this?!" There on the floor was a half transfigured human. Drago was sure it was some kind of Trojan horse trick and he was ready for bloodshed.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan chuckled, clearly amused by the look on Drago's face. He pointed to the vase, which had now become the full form of the corpse of Lissandra, her once beautiful face pockmarked with scars and boils. "I thought you might like some dinner. Compliments," his ice blue eyes flickered in glee, "Of Morgase."

 

[Drago Maximus]

Drago instantly relaxed and looked down at the formerly beautiful face of Lissandra. It was not so long ago that his eyes had lit upon her face full of color. Now as she lay on the floor, her face was the ashy gray color of death. "How long has she been dead? Will her blood still flow freely?" He sniffed longingly in her direction.

 

[Tristan Drage]

"Not all that long," Tristan replied, chuckling a bit, and he recollected that he once would have been startled by his own morbidity. "I would say, ten minutes, maximum? Although I think you'd be a better judge of that." He stood from the couch, his robes hitting his ankles; he did not necessarily want to watch Drago eat.

 

[Drago Maximus]

Drago's eyes lingered on the corpse and a small smile played around his dry lips. "This is truly a great gift, Tristan." He then noticed that Tristan had stood. "Are you leaving so soon, friend?" He eyes slowly moved back to Lissandra's body and felt the first hint of saliva springing up in his mouth.

 

[Tristan Drage]

"I thought it might be courteous of me to leave the feed to yourself," Tristan replied, "But if you desire my presence, I shall stay." A smirk played at the edges of his thin lips, obvious amusement flickering in his eyes.