Find Me Where The Wild Things Are

[Tilda MacFusty]

The new wallet was perfect for her father. Tilda smiled to herself knowing he'd appreciate it seeing as the pouch he had currently was fraying at the seams an alarming pace. It was when she set her purse on the table to tuck the parcel into it that she heard the screams. Ears alert, she whipped around to see what could only be defined as pure chaos. At first she thought it was only in front of her, but then she heard the screams to her left and right. Objects flew in every direction, getting closer and closer.

What was happening?

Tilda immediately regretted asking the question, for she soon found out. At first she heard the roars. Narrowing her eyes she flipped through the mental lexicon of dragon sounds in her head. But none were confirmed, so it must be some other animal. Wings came into view, flailing amongst the bodies and Tilda stood rooted in shock and horror as she realized they were winged tigers.

Many Gaelic curses came to mind as the witch dropped everything (which she would regret soon after) and ran. She could handle dragons – it was in her blood. But tigers? That was another thing entirely. Heart racing from all the running, she turned a corner and realized it had been made a dead end because of the rubble. Another swear word passed her lips and she turned around hoping to find another path. But then, she stopped dead in her tracks as she locked eyes with one of the tigers. It was massive with its hackles raised and a crazed look in it's eye.

Tilda scrambled desperately for her wand, but when her hand touched the pocket she usually kept it in, she found herself reaching for nothing. Her heart (and stomach) dropped as she realized she'd temporarily stuck her wand in her purse. Which she'd left at the vendor's booth. She realized she was fucked either way, but maybe she could do something about it...

"Hey there," she cooed as soothingly as she could, crouching down to a lower position and lowering her gaze. She didn't know the first thing about tigers, but if they were anything like dragons.... It was a gamble, but Tilda didn't have a lot of options left. "It's okay, love," she said before repeating a few soothing phrases in Gaelic.

The tiger only snarled and hissed. Its wings were poised in the air, raising it on its haunches. Tilda could only scream and throw her arms up in the air as the tiger lunged for her.

@'Odira Potter' / @'Vernon Avery'

  

[Vernon Avery]

The world was falling apart, and Vernon Avery wanted none of it.

The last day of the international market brought with it the last day to pick up those fireproof, dragon hide gloves that Vernon had been ogling from the start, and the wizard stared longingly at them trying to figure out if Summer would begrudge him their exorbitant cost. Something that felt like an explosion hurled them into his face, and Vernon had just enough presence of mind to grab them before all hell broke loose.

Wasting no more time, the redhead broke into a run, dodging falling chunks of the pavilion and trying not to stumble over the fracturing mosaic beneath him. Vernon deafened himself to the screams of those around him, focused on one thing and one thing only: getting home in one piece to his sisters, his brother, who had lost too much already for him the play the goddamned hero now. Until he saw her.

Matilda MacFusty, cornered by—and seemingly trying to soothe—an unsootheable-looking winged bloody tiger.

Wand in one hand and new, semi-stolen gloves in the other, he conjured a wall of stone between feral beast and fair maiden.

“Are you mad?!” he demanded of her, grabbing her roughly by the elbow to pull her behind him and further from the feline.

  

[Tilda MacFusty]

She waited for the attack to come - wondered if it was going to be as worse as a dragon's bite with razor sharp teeth and puncturing claws - but the assault never came. Instead she was seized by the elbow and yanked backwards. The witch had to throw her arms out to avoid tumbling backwards. It was a combination of this surprise mixed with realizing who exactly had saved her that left her physically and emotionally reeling.

Mr Avery. Here. Saving her for a change. The last she'd seen of him was in the hospital - when he was discharged, it was her day off and the next day she'd gone to visit him, she'd found a rather grumpy old man with a nasty bite from an overly large pygmy puff, gone savage from a potion it had been fed. As she steadied herself, Tilda took a breath, trying not to feel flustered - of all the moments in the world to be flustered! BAH!

She didn't have long to feel relieved and elated that he'd saved her. His burning question left her bristling as she tensed and tilted her chin up in defiance. "Of course not!" she hissed, eyeing the stone wall warily. They both knew it would only hold for so long.... "He was about to attack me and being caught wandless, I did what I thought would help the situation!" Her pointed tone on the word told him full well that he should know the quick spiral to near-insanity that one takes when caught unawares and being confronted with wild animals. 

  

[Vernon Avery]

His grip was still tight upon her and even as she spoke, Vernon moved to guide her further away from their shared likely demise.

“And almost got yourself killed in the process!” he shot back at her, adrenaline coursing through him and riling the redhead up more than was likely useful. “We need to be out of here and away from that, and you getting half eaten helps neither.”