With his chin rested on a pale hand, ruby eyes half-lidded, he yawned, revealing pearly white teeth and sharp incisors.
Vlad Cojocaru was bored.
Once the initial mayhem had dwindled, there really wasn't that much to fuss over. Anyone who looked twice probably could have seen it coming. (He did, for one.)
Anyway, there had been nothing really going on lately. Normally, the recluse would have liked the solitude, but after he was gone, the silence was uncomfortable. Irked him to no end, really. Even experimenting with his magic had lost its glamour after a while. He absently wondered what the other two magicians were up to.
As if on cue, his magic twitched, causing him to sweep the lines with it. After Oliver and Lukas made their little refuge, they had rarely ventured out. He, on the other hand, had a perfect, Old Magic-infused castle. The thing sat on top of a rare intersection of multiple leylines, running off the remaining magic in the earth. He could tap into them, giving him a huge advantage. He could sense magic all throughout Europe if he wanted, excluding inside other barriers.
Twisting the lines around his place had been tricky, but worth it. As far as anyone was concerned, Romania had been clean wiped off the face of the planet, with just a barren wasteland behind. The barriers the redhead had erected repelled humans, so nobody bothered him. He was completely shut off.
His magic twinged repeatedly, finding the perpetrators, causing him to swear. Lukas' magic had been detected near France. What were the Scandinavians doing in the area?
They seemed to be heading to Oliver's place, judging from their course.
Interesting. Finally, something must have happened. Vlad grinned toothily.
Time to crash the party.
