Snippet #1243868

Al looked over to Drake. Why wasn't he helping? Well, Al thought, pausing in his efforts to help Sander, that guy did say something about a visit. And considering where we are, it won't be a friendly one. He must be sick with worry... Al was pulled from his thoughts by a small yet audible whimper from Sander.

Suddenly, [Sander's] usually grey eyes turned into a dark shade of purple, almost black, spreading from his pupil and covering the iris and almost the entire eye, before they turned back to normal. His breath hitched as he fell over, his hands letting go of his knees in order to keep every ounce of self-control focused on keeping the wolf at bay.

"Drake!" Al called, beckoning his friend over. "Sander's in trouble, I need your help!"

"Shit!" Drake snarled, having seen the entire thing. Immediately jumping to his feet, his mind immediately began racing on what to do. Being without his equipment meant he couldn't brew anything up, and he didn't feel comfortable utilizing his Earth magic in order to keep things a surprise from their captors...and he wasn't going to open his own flame breath on his friend, unless he had absolutely no choice.

As it was, it didn't matter. The solid steel of the room appeared to be reinforced all around. However, perhaps--

A thought struck him. The entirety of the room was encased in metal. Metal, as he recalled his former mentor teaching him, nothing more than simply refined earth. Perhaps if he could rip off the sheets of metal--no. No, there was simply no time for that. Flashing Al a somewhat panicked expression, the alarmed gaze he gave his companion clearly said he didn't have any idea on what to do.

Drake closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, staring at Sander.

~Maybe a solid application of force...~

"This didn't work on the doors," Drake softly stated, more to himself but still audible, "But perhaps...! Sander, forgive me!" Taking a few quick steps, Drake whirled around to swing his thick scaled dragon tail around to the side of Sander's head. The scale like armor would be impervious to the bite. Hopefully, Drake thought, a sharp quick strike to the side of his head would knock him out. If he were unconscious, then perhaps he would pose no immediate threat...

---

"I don't mean to rain on your parade here, but I answered the question given to me. Ronald wanted to know the contents of the vial his brother took, I told him it was poison. Charles did not ask any questions, so that one counted as the question I would answer. It is not my place to only answer the good questions I get, you decide what to ask."

He gestured to the remaining vials. "Mr Smith does not have all night you know."

"Fine," Hermione spat, fingering the green potion, having set the red one down. For some reason, the odd color of the potion did little to ally her fears. Knowing that the clear potion was poison, the red color had reminded her of blood...and had thought that was a bad omen. Instead, she took the green one instead...but didn't down the entire thing, only drinking a small portion and keeping the rest in the bottle. "Where is Mr. Smith and how do we prevent his death, precisely?"