He's not foolish enough to spin around in his seat and gawk, giving her play away, but he turns his head to watch from the corner of his eye as Davies waltzes up to Madame Pince, handing the note over. She looks like butter wouldn't even melt in her mouth; silvertongued, despite never speaking a word. Pince doesn't even question the validity of the note, pulling the requested titles out for her perusal.
He is, grudgingly, impressed. Upon her return, his eyebrow is quirked, and something like a smirk tugs at his lips, even as he turns the pages of his new text. It's an older volume, bound in dragonskin, with yellowed and smudged pages. Much more promising, this one, delving far deeper into the taxonomy of more exotic magical creatures, beasts of remote locations or unique existence. ]
How Slytherin of you, Davies. It makes me wonder if the Sorting Hat must be going senile in its old age.
[ Coming from a Wayne, it's a compliment. He's thumbing through region-specific species. First the United Kingdom, then the Netherlands, over to India, down to Bialya-- ]
--a ha.
[ The quiet exclamation that says he thinks he's found it. Excitement overtakes him a little, caught up in the discovery, and he turns the book her way to share, tapping the page. ]
Behemoth. Guardian beasts of the hidden royal tombs, and of the Sceptre of Kings.
[ The information on them is sparse, but the accompanying illustration matches Damian's sketch -- depicting a giant cross between a bat and a dragon, large enough to swallow a man whole. And, from the summary, the creatures were considered all but extinct, even mythological, same as the magical item they were said to protect; a forgotten note in a history book, and not something Damian would have simply stumbled across. ]
no subject
He's not foolish enough to spin around in his seat and gawk, giving her play away, but he turns his head to watch from the corner of his eye as Davies waltzes up to Madame Pince, handing the note over. She looks like butter wouldn't even melt in her mouth; silvertongued, despite never speaking a word. Pince doesn't even question the validity of the note, pulling the requested titles out for her perusal.
He is, grudgingly, impressed. Upon her return, his eyebrow is quirked, and something like a smirk tugs at his lips, even as he turns the pages of his new text. It's an older volume, bound in dragonskin, with yellowed and smudged pages. Much more promising, this one, delving far deeper into the taxonomy of more exotic magical creatures, beasts of remote locations or unique existence. ]
How Slytherin of you, Davies. It makes me wonder if the Sorting Hat must be going senile in its old age.
[ Coming from a Wayne, it's a compliment. He's thumbing through region-specific species. First the United Kingdom, then the Netherlands, over to India, down to Bialya-- ]
--a ha.
[ The quiet exclamation that says he thinks he's found it. Excitement overtakes him a little, caught up in the discovery, and he turns the book her way to share, tapping the page. ]
Behemoth. Guardian beasts of the hidden royal tombs, and of the Sceptre of Kings.
[ The information on them is sparse, but the accompanying illustration matches Damian's sketch -- depicting a giant cross between a bat and a dragon, large enough to swallow a man whole. And, from the summary, the creatures were considered all but extinct, even mythological, same as the magical item they were said to protect; a forgotten note in a history book, and not something Damian would have simply stumbled across. ]