Tria 48, 81381 Early night // <a href=http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=21>Vythe Vidallyn</a> -- Vythe exhaled softly, his breath visible in the cool night air. Although it was still Tria, the white pelted arden could feel the comfortable cool of autumn approaching. Autumn and winter were his favourite seasons simply because of the cold. His fur tended to remain thick all year round and the summer quarter, as well as lingering around the more tropical regions of Ramath-lehi, made him quite uncomfortable. The sturdy arden slipped his pass-key into a tall iron wrought gate and let it be read. There came the tell-tale sign of unlocking and then Vythe passed through the gate. The gate itself and surrounding fencers were more of a decoration. They was a little imposing, but that was about it. Confined within the boundaries there was a row of 12 tall and narrow townhouses. Not exactly the sort of place one expected a highly paid professional to live... yet it suited Vythe just fine. He preferred not to squander his fortune. Living alone and only having to take care of himself certainly made that easy. Vythe casually walked along the paved drive, his footfalls barely making a sound despite his considerable weight. He was eager to simply get inside and get to sleep. Working for Koani as her personal guard was rather nerve-wracking at times. One never knew when there could be trouble. Sometimes weeks could sail smoothly by without incident. Then there would be an attempted poisoning, hurled insults... or a weapon assault, rare as they were. Still, Vythe thrived on this sort of high risk environment. He was in his element when there were lives at risk. Risks were like fuel... and addictive. Even if he had hated his job, the arden knew that he would have stayed regardless. His loyalties to the late Zamfir went deep, and besides, he loved Koani. Unfortunately it was unrequited love... as it had been for years, but perhaps time would change that. Time was a precious thing to Vythe. He wanted to waste no minute of it. Now as he came up to his front door, he paused. Something felt a little strange. The arden looked back over his shoulder, the bright light from the street lamp making his blue eyes reflect and flash in the darkness. He didn't brush off his initial thoughts, but rather stored them away as he opened the front door to his house. The outside of the building was pretty drab and grey. The inside really wasn't much different. No pictures, paintings, or the like hung from the walls. They were as bare as they had been when Vythe had first moved in years ago. There was furniture, although it was sparse. What furniture was there appeared to be modest yet comfortable. Vythe walked through his narrow front hall then turned into the first doorway on his left which led to the kitchen. The arden set his keys down on the table there and began rummaging around for something to eat. Food first then sleep would be allowed to follow.
In a shadow by the wall of the little townhouse community stood a neon green pendragon, her keen tiny black pupils fixed on the ghostly white form walking a dozen yards away. She rubbed her bright lavender purple hands together furiously and blew on them. A brown clump of hair threaded through three purple beads hung in her face. A belt was strapped around her slim waist, and two other straps crossing her chest and over each shoulder were clipped to the belt. Finally, Meelamar said to herself, It's him. However, Meelamar did not have the luxury of being able to say things to herself. Saying things to one's self implies that one has said it in their mind and that there is no one to hear. She had of course said it in her mind, but there was someone there to hear. Are you sure? she heard a gruff voice from inside her. Of course I'm sure you idiot! she thought back, Now give me some of your fur before I freeze to death, she added. The shapeshifting pendragon's fur instantly grew longer, but her eyes never left the arden as he went inside. Head of security, she thought, Lets see what sort of security he has on his own house. She grinned mischievously. Their original plan had been to break into the Grader’s house, give security a little something to occupy their time. They hadn’t planned on stealing anything or threatening the Graders, it was just a friendly exercise. But that plan had fell by the way-side when they had begun to scope out the place. It was way beyond their league, at least while they were alone. Determined still to get their little romp, Meela and Ned had decided to terrorize the ol’ Head of Security. They had been rather disappointed to find where he lived. Meela looked up at the wall. She reached down to her handy-dandy-cliché utility belt. She had nothing against the idea of a utility belt, however idiotic it sounded. The idea was actually a very good one. For one thing, it was more easily accessible than a pack. Currently, it held one tiny tear gas can, one rubber handled dagger (she had been shocked way too many times trying to cut wires), a grapple hook rope, some nails, wet-wipes, and a few hair and paper clips. There was also a sheet of paper with the address of the house, incase she got lost on her way here. She selected the small coiled rope with a foldable grapple hook at one end. Another bandit cliché, but once again, functional. With an expert toss, she hooked the top edge of the wall and pulled herself up. She changed her face and fur color as she went, in case of cameras. When she fell to the other side of the wall with only a small thud, she was a dark neutral gray female with a squarish muzzle and a long brush tail. The rope was recoiled and stowed on the belt in a matter of moments. She looked around in newly brown eyes. Sheesh, guess Mr. H of S doesn’t get paid much, thought Ned, as she took in the sight. She hid behind a wall of a house nearest the wall, looking out into the little street and picking out the white pendragon like a beacon. He was almost at his house by the time she saw him. He looked over his shoulder, and Meelemar slowly lowered her head, but did not withdraw it behind the wall. He might see the sudden movement. At least this way, she could trust on the darkness to hide the form of her still head. She waited in silence until he was inside before she stalked closer. She padded up quickly, keeping close to the ground. She stopped in the eave of the doorway. She heard kitchen noises, and decided to wait until he had gone upstairs before atempting to pick the lock. She got her pins and paperclips ready. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Fwee, I can see myself getting carried away with this. </td></tr></table>
After he'd finished eating, Vythe cleaned up after himself. The kitchen was just about as white as he was. The hard grey stone counters, the painted off-white cupboards. It was every bit as sterile as the rest of the house. With one need settled, Vythe left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went. First he sauntered over to the large closet in the front hall. He slid the door open, then slid out of the thick vest he'd been wearing. It was of a heavy duty army-grade material, bulletproof and waterproof, among other things. He hung this up in the closet, quite unaware of the garment's weight. Vythe then walked through the hall and to the end of it where the living room and a small adjoined dining room was. They were the most unused areas in his house. He never entertained, so there was no need to ever accommodate for guests. Nor was he interested in such mind numbing contraptions like the television. The living room stared back at him – dead. Nothing of interest aside from the lumpy shadows of a few scattered pieces of furniture. Vythe left the living room and headed upstairs. A few of the steps creaked underneath his weight, but otherwise they were in good repair. Upon reaching the top landing, Vythe walked past the first room and into the second. There were three rooms in total on the top floor. A full sized bathroom, a large master bedroom, as well as a smaller bedroom. It was this smaller room that Vythe walked into. He'd turned this room into his own private office and study. Out of all the rooms in his house, it probably had the most personality. There were several bookcases that housed books of various interests. Most of them were either political, pertaining to laws and their passing. The rest dealt with magic and its forms. Although Vythe wasn't much of a book reader – he spent most of his time getting his information electronically – over the years he had built up a nice little library of hard copies. Aside from book shelves, this room also housed a large couch along with an office desk and chair. However, the desk was spotless and devoid of any such electronics. No computer. No telephone. Just a smooth, dark wood surface. Vythe walked over to the desk and put his hand on it. It was cold to the touch. Satisfied by its silence and strength, Vythe left the desk and his study behind. He slipped into his room, opening and then shutting the door behind him. This was where sleep happened. The arden smiled grimly to himself. Like everywhere else in his house, his room was sparsely furnished. In the middle of the room was his bed. It was four posted, king sized, and swathed in deep ebony covers. On either side of it there were night tables, and at the end of the bed there was a large wooden trunk. There were no lamps, no clocks, nor other personal items. At least, there wasn't until Vythe began shedding them off of his person. He sat down on the trunk and slipped off his shoes, letting them stay where they fell. He then unbuckled his belts which held his dual guns in their holsters. He put these down gently on the truck beside him. After that it was easy. He slipped out of his shirt and then his pants. In the end, the arden was lounging in just a plain pair of black boxers. He moved to the bed now, taking his guns with him. He didn't crawl underneath the sheets though. Instead he took both of his guns out of their holsters, double checking to make sure their safeties were on. He opened the drawer of the night table on his left and pulled out a medium sized brown box. He set this in front of him and opened it. Inside were a few cleaning brushes, some cloths, a cleaning rod, oil, and a few other miscellaneous contraptions for cleaning his firearms. Vythe unloaded his guns, then set himself up for the tedious task of cleaning the deadly objects.
Meelemar sat in the eave of the doorway, idly picking at her teeth with a paperclip while the arden inside ate. Eventually, she heard him stirring. She leaned down and pressed her ear to the bottom of the door, where she could more easily hear. She could hear footsteps, which implied that he was in whatever room just through the door. He lingered there, and Meelemar heard a shuffling of cloth. Then the footsteps began to retreat and grow dimmer. Again there was a pause. Her tail twitched in impatience. He moved again and mercifully seemed to be going upstairs, and this time, Meelemar's ears pricked as they picked up faint squeaks of wood. She would have to take care on the stairs. She could no longer hear his footsteps, but she waited a bit longer, giving Vythe time to do whatever he needed before settling down. Meanwhile, she began to inspect the lock. She had no formal training in lock-picking, most of her skills were picked up from others she had worked with, and simple break-ins she had done before. As a result, she was far from efficient. Even the most basic trained lock-pick would have had an easier time of it. If she ever had to encounter anything more complicated than a basic door lock, she would have simply melted the lock off with a bout of flame or something. She cursed under her breath a couple times as parts of the assorted pins and clips shoved in the lock snapped out and hit her fingers. Eventually, using the springy advantage of a pin, carefully maneuvered into place and reinforced by paper clips, Meelemar jerked, expecting to feel another sting on her fingers. Instead, there was a quiet click as the lock slid open. Meelemar allowed herself a triumphant grin before manipulating the metals out of the lock. She shoved them back into her belt. My turn Meela. came NedÂ’s insistent voice. Let me check for cameras first, Meelemar replied. She reached for the knob and turned it gently. As she slowly pulled the door open, she lifted upwards, a technique that helped to reduce the chances of a squeak. She poked her head inside, and looked around. No cameras, at least that she could see. She rolled her eyes in disappointment and slipped inside. Ok, go for it, Meela thought tartly, But I get the stairs, IÂ’m lighter than you. The pendragonÂ’s image flickered for a moment with vibrant red fur, before settling back into gray. A silver tail flame erupted into life, its light muted, and what stood there now was a slightly bulkier male version of the same gray pendragon. He turned and placed his paws on the knob, lifting gently as he slid the door closed, turning the knob and letting the latch glide slowly back into place. Neadvas turned to the quiet room. He perked his ears and listened for any sounds of movement from above. After a silent moment, Ned was satisfied and he made his way to the stairs. He did not climb them, only looked up and saw that a light was still on somewhere. He smiled, Mr. H of S hasnÂ’t gone to bed just yet, he thought, That makes it much more exciting. MeelaÂ’s voice surfaced, Lets see whatÂ’s in the kitchen. Ned moved away from the stairs, quietly easing his way towards the kitchen. He paused and looked around. Neadvas was beginning to wonder if Vythe made any income at all. What did he do with his money? Whatever it was, it was obviously not decorating. He knew that if they had any sort of decent means of income, Ned and Meela would have lace curtains and silk pillows and a custom made secret passage through their house before they even bothered buying a toaster. In his point of view, someone as upstanding as Vythe living in a house like this was a veritable crime. With a glint of mischievousness and a hint of envy in his eyes, he walked over towards the fridge. He found himself expecting nothing but a loaf of bread, a jug of milk, and quite possibly, some eggs and butter. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>What sort of things is Vythe liable to keep in his fridge?</td></tr></table>
Vythe's favoured left-hand gun was now completely disassembled. It lay in various pieces upon the small cloth that he had placed upon the bed. Vythe in turn was sitting comfortably cross-legged on the bed. He found taking care of and cleaning his various weapons a little therapeutic. It also allowed him to think about the day's events as he leisurely went about the task. He hadn't had to fire his guns today. It was generally a rare day when he did. Although there had been members of the government trying to persuade him to the “darker" side, Vythe didn't particularly enjoy killing. Despite this, his number of kills had racked up substantially over the years during his service to the Graders. Like most who had to kill for a living, Vythe had detached himself somewhat from the act. It was easier when the pendragons had no names or faces. It was a little unfortunate that no one really knew the full extent of Vythe's job. Most thought of only him, his guns, and the Graders. They never bothered to dig up much on his past. They got to USR training, and generally stopped there. Vythe's offence, his guns, was what they all knew. His defence however, only Zamfir had known the full extent of his abilities there. Given the right amount of time, Vythe could construct steadfast barriers that could deflect bullets. He could secure an area and set invisible magicka-based triggers in order to alert individuals of trespassers. That was only the beginning though. Koani really didn't know just how secure she was at times, nor could she know just how far Vythe's loyalty to her and her family really went. “Head of Security" was just a job title. Vythe had long ago made enough money in order to comfortably retire. However he felt compelled to stay. He really didn't have anywhere else to be, so why stop doing what he was good at? It wasn't really like he had friends either, save for his co-workers whom he saw as mere acquaintances. His 49th birthday had whizzed by, and there hadn't been a peep from anyone. Not even his own mother, although with her current mental state, it was easy to forgive her. That half a century mark was soon approaching. Then what? Vythe slid a metal part off of the gun and held it up to his eyes, inspecting the surface thoroughly as he did so. They were beautiful guns. He attached the part back onto the gun. It made a loud metallic snap as it locked itself back into place. Vythe's attention then turned to the next piece, and then the next... his hands and bright blue eyes working together methodically. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class='ooc'><tr><td>Condiments, some fresh fruit and some sort of... leftover quiche-like thing. :P</td></tr></table>
Neadvas paused a moment at what greeted him in the glowing fridge. It was worse than he had expected. He wasn't quite sure you could even make a meal out of this. He sighed and pulled a couple of pale green berries off what looked like a sprig of djaam rajji and shoved them into his mouth. He plucked out a bottle of some sort of red condiment, licking the berry juice from his fingers before closing the fridge door, cutting off the umbra of light it had made. He waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness again. He did not want to stumble unknowingly into something. He undid the lid of the bottle and smiled wickedly. Lets put some color in this room. There was a snort from within his mind and a female voice said, I thought we werenÂ’t going to do anything stupid. Ned began making little red designs in the kitchen countertop nearest the fridge. Vandalism never hurt anyone, he thought back, Besides, we decided no stealing or breaking, and there isnÂ’t much else to do in here. No point breaking-and-entering if we just hang around and read a newspaper. Meelemar stayed silent, an irritated haze drifting from her. She had only had a mind for the sneaking about and breaking in. She had never cared about what they were sneaking about and breaking in for. Ned moved on to the next counter, grinning manically to himself. Eventually, when the kitchen was sufficiently red he stepped back to admire his work. Then, he set the bottle on a counter and sauntered out of the room. Upstairs? He did not even receive and answer, only felt his mind being pushed aside by another. He relented and let Meela take over. With a flash of vivid green fur, the pendragon changed once more back into the female version of itself. Meela walked tentatively to the foot of the stairs and looked up. It would be more dangerous getting closer to the occupant of the house while he was awake, but that was all part of the fun. Besides, it was not as if a facial id or taking fingerprints would work (and these were the only real threats as they saw them. Injury and/or the possibility of capture did not cross either of their minds). Meela and Ned had been very carefully practicing changing their fingerprints over the last few weeks. It was hard because it was such a small detail to concentrate on, but eventually they had just decided to mimic a set of fingerprints they found at a public restroom. Meela placed her foot on the lowest step, placing it closest to the side of the stairwell where the step had more support, and was less likely to squeak under her weight. She did this all the way up the staircase, going from one edge to the other. There were a few sounds, and she paused with ears perked after each until satisfied they had only been heard by her paranoid mind. When she reached the top, she looked towards the door with a glow around its edges, and decided this was VytheÂ’s bedroom. She darted into the only other room, dark and safe. She looked around, keen brown eyes absorbing details. This would be another fun room to trash.
Another snap sounded as Vythe assembled another piece of the gun. Once he had it put all back together, he set it aside and picked up the gun's twin. It looked identical to its brother, yet Vythe could instantly tell the difference between them. They each handled a little differently despite their alikeness. This was for the most part due to typical wear and tear. Regardless, the firearms still performed beautifully. Now Vythe busied himself with taking the second gun apart. The snapping, clicking noises of the mechanisms were rather soothing to his ears. It had been a rather harrying day after all, and any sort of calming activity was welcoming. He'd had a bit of a spat with Koani earlier on in the day, but that was pretty normal. They seemed to always be at odds with one another. It hadn't been Koani who had gotten on his nerves today though. It had been one of his own staff. There'd been a bout of insubordination. One of his “greenies" had left their post in order to pursue things of a more personal nature. When Vythe had gotten wind of this, he'd stalked the individual down personally. Even though it had simply been part of a training exercise, disobeying orders was a serious thing. It simply wasn't allowed. In the end, Vythe had permanently expelled the potential team member. He'd been given a black sticker and was now completely barred from any of the upper security divisions. Security was serious business. Unfortunately for Vythe though, he focused so much on the security in his work place, that that of his own home was lacking considerably. If only he knew.
Once again, the male gray stood in the room where once the female gray had been, silver tail flame glowing dimly. Ned looked around with keen brown eyes. At least this room looked a little more upper-class with the books and all, but Ned still harbored a disappointed resentment. There was a desk that looked like it should have had a computer on it, and Ned found himself wondering if the reason the place was so drab was because someone had already come and nicked everything. He swaggered over to the desk and dragged a finger across it. No dust. Ned shook his head and pulled the rubber handled knife from the belt. He sat down and hunched over the smooth surface. He raised the knife to the desk. What the hell are you doing? MeelaÂ’s indignant voice came. IÂ’m gonna carve the desk, Ned thought back petulantly. We said no breaking. He would have to buy a new desk! thought Meela. Ned suppressed a growl that rumbled in his throat. But MeelaÂ…he could just get some new wood for it or somethingÂ…besides, its not like its anything really expencive, Ned pleaded angrily. Meela relented, Fine, after seeing his house I think he could stand to pay for a new desk anyway. Happily, Ned brought the knife down on the desk and began to carve into it gleefully. The knife in the wood made a little more noise than he would have liked, but he made mental note of the couch behind him and reasoned that if Vythe awoke, Ned would be able to hear him coming. MeelaÂ’s smaller frame just might fit under the couch, and hopefully, Vythe would not see the etchings in the desk. Ned continued to carve away, informing Meela of the small plan he had devised. She confirmed his thought, saying that if she transferred a little of her chest mass to her legs, she would be able to fit under the couch, no problem. Huge highly stylized letters were making their way across the desk, spelling out a couple of rather vulgar insults in Ramaithian. Vandals were not ones for creativity when it came to this sort of thing, and Ned was not one to break such a trend. He did feel a little pang of sympathy for the H of S, and Ned found himself wishing he had brought up the bottle of ketchup instead. But, it was too late for that now, and he might as well finish the work he had begun.
That strange feeling Vythe had had when he had first entered his home still hadn't left him. He'd locked it up in his mind, not forgetting it, but not acting upon it. It wasn't until that feeling started to manifest itself in his stomach that he really started to think something of it. He wasn't alone. He was positive of that now. There were others in close proximity. Vythe's cool eyes cast themselves about his room. No one was in here aside from himself. His room had been wired with multiple hair-like triggers. No one would be able to get in here without sounding the silent alarm. Still, his feeling was unnerving. Instead of slowly putting his second gun together, he snapped the pieces back into place with expert quickness. With the guns taken care of, he reached for their holsters. They felt eerily light as he belted them on about his waist. Of course, the lack of pants probably played a big role in that. With his guns secure, he pulled out the left one and edged toward his bedroom door. He could have sworn that he'd heard a faint scratching noise in the room next store. Vermin gnawing on his books? Possibly. Vythe turned the lights off in his room then opened the door smoothly. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim darkness. Something didn't feel right at all. With his gun still unsheathed, he pressed his back against the wall of the hallway as he tried to figure out what it was that he had just heard.
Moments passed as he carved away, and then Ned felt something strange. He paused and sat still as the air around him, tense. He tried to convince himself he had simply imagined something, a moth's wings loud in the silence, or a groan of the wind. Slowly, the arden turned in the chair, knife still held in hand, and looked towards the open doorway of the room. The faint glow of light that had spread aross the floor from the other, occupied room had gone out. Mr. H of S has finally gone to sleep, Meela purred happily from inside their head. Ned was not quite so sure. Meela was only loosly connected to their body's senses at the moment, but Ned who had full access was feeling uneasy. I don't know, I think I heard something. Indeed on the edge of hearing he could sense footsteps. He sniffed the air, something was different. Ned stood quickly from the chair and as quietly as possible went over to the couch. In his hurry, he had alowed himself soft suffling noises, they were already discovered anyway. Don't be so paranoid, he just went to sleep, Meela growled. Ned lowered himself to the ground, and forced Meela's mind out in front of his as the pendragon rolled under the couch. A flash of neon green and then a gray pendragon lay squeezed under the piece of furniture. This is stupid... she began but Ned interupted her, Just listen! She strained her ears, but Meela heard nothing, she said as much to Ned. He is just being very still, Ned assured her, You don't become head of security if you can't walk a hall quietly. We are creatures designed for hunting, stealth is natural. Meela rolled her eyes and dropped her muzzle to the floor between her paws. She was personally doubtful as to the extent that genetics could help a 'dragon be stealthy. And from her experience, security didnt have to be silent, volume was no concern when chasing after the criminal. I'll bet you a days worth of body control that he is asleep, she thought as she lay there motionless.
There it had been again. A faint scratching, scraping sound. Almost as if someone were dragging their claws against a hard by somewhat forgiving surface. Then it stopped. Vythe frowned. He'd had problems with bugs and the like before. He hated to think that he'd have to have the place fumigated. The smell and toxins would be unbearable... not to mention that he'd have to find another place to sleep for a few nights. Hotels weren't exactly his favourite places to be either. Vythe edged soundlessly along the hall until he came upon the open doorway to his study. Once there, he flicked on the hall light. His tall shadow reached out and cast itself into the study. “Alright vermin," he growled. “I know that you're in there."
The gray pendragon lay for a few moments in petulant silence, doing the mental equivalent of strumming her fingers. A light switched on, and then came the voice. Holy Shit! Meelemar thought erratically. Ned was able to take control of their mouth for long enough to keep a sharp surprised intake of breath from happening. Be careful with the body Meela, sheesh, he said, sinking back. With a more irritating tone he added, And I'll take this saturday. I like saturdays. Meela ignored this, along with another string of self-satisfied thoughts that floated through the shared brain. He knew they were in here, the game was beginning. She looked at the long shadow being cast into the room. She could not see the figure casting it directly because of the angle of the couch. As silently and slowly as she could, she reached a paw down to the belt. She had to momentarily rearange the bones and muscles in her forearm to add a joint to keep her elbow from sticking out. It hurt a little, it was a rushed slopy shape-shift, but once she got her arm near the belt she put the bones and muscles back the correct way. She located the small bottle of tear gas and put a finger on the latch that held it on. She didnt want to do anything until it was necessary, or at least until she had a clear shot for the door. She watched the shadow intently, it looked like it was holding something. From her limited knowledge of pendragons in the security business, she put two and two together. Her arm tensed, ready to take action.
Vythe had been expecting to hear the pitter-patter of small scurrying feet when he had turned on the light. When that hadn't happened, he bit his bottom lip absently. Something wasn't right, and he was starting to get the idea that it was linked to those gut feelings he had had earlier. There was definitely something in his study. He was almost certain it wasn't your cookie cutter, garden variety case of bugs or other such small annoying creatures. This was something altogether more serious. Perhaps it was a ghost? Vythe had had a few dealings with the supernatural. They liked to make noises. Upset things. Generally just to be little attention whores. He didn't quite like the possibility of his visitor being a ghost. They were a nuisance to get rid of. Vythe cocked his gun. There was only going to be one way to find out for sure. However, there were a few steps of protocol to follow. Specially since he himself hadn't been threatened in any manner. Yet. “Look. I don't want to hurt you. However, I will if I have to. If you agree to come quietly, we can get this over with as quickly as possible. Maybe even have a chat. What do you say?"
Meela rolled her eyes, Aw, he don't wanna hurt us, Ned, she thought. Maybe he didnt, but just saying that implied to Meela that when need arose, he would hurt them...and apparently not be happy about it. The devious pendragon wondered how far they could push him before he did resort to violence. She set the idea aside for later contemplation. They could still have fun yet. She could barely see lower paws now, but they were still guarding the doorway. It was slightly frustrating that he did not just dive in and start looking around the room, but that was something Meela knew she could only wish for. We need Mr. H of S away from there. she thought. They didnt want to be going for the door in a gloud of gas, only to find a sturdy pendragon blocking the way. Meela doubted that Ned could efficiently dislodge someone out of his way without falling to the floor himself. She took her paw slowly off the gas can and reached for one of the nails. There was a panicked moment when it seemed like they would all fall out of the pocket and clatter to the floor, but she caught them, and closed the pocket before they could fall. Meela thanked the gods that Vythe had not yet seen fit to turn this room's lights on. She could hope for a little luck and some nice, conveniently placed shadows, though it didnt seem likely. She took the nail and lobbed it, as best she could at the odd angle, across the room. It clattered to a stop, and Meela's paw was back on the gas can, just incase. She held her breath. At least it would get his attention, and he might come into the room, leaving the doorway clear.
It wasn't a ghost. Vythe had been half wishing that it was one. If it had of been one, he would have already felt the subtle shift in Fronima levels. Whatever it was, this was no supernatural being. It was alive. It had a presence. Vythe fancied he could feel it now that he was closer to the study door. What he had in reality was an intruder. Some pendragon, or creature, who didn't know where they belonged. There was a proper procedure for this situation. A normal civilian would simply call the authorities. Vythe was the authority. All it was was a break and enter. It didn't seem much more serious than that. There was no possibility of hostages. Vythe lived alone. No one was here to watch and judge his actions. He could act however he wanted. While he was going over this, a something small and metallic clattered on the floor inside the room. Vythe's ears instinctively tuned into the sound. Maybe they wanted to play a game with him. Whatever the case, Vythe wanted to see this intruder. While keeping his centre of gravity low, Vythe edged around the hall and into the room. He positioned himself to the right of the door. With his gun trained on nothing in particular, he flipped on the lights.
