"But not... unwelcome.", another, less gravelly voice purred.

Miranda and Penelope turned on their heels in one swift motion to behold two men, each one at least a head taller than them.
One had hair the shade of rich ebony reaching his shoulders, framing an angular face set in a sharp-teethed, wolfish grin. Dressed in flowing thin azure robes, lined with silver thread, he had a dandy air about him. His companion appeared less elegant, with heavy features of a more primal handsomeness and a shock of red hair that settled in a windswept mane. This one wore a fur lined leather mantle, marked with arcane symbols.

And their eyes drew the most attention. It seemed as if they gleamed with a crimson glint.

Two wands flicked out, pointing at each stranger, as the two witches realized just what these men were. Vampires.
"Wouldn't do anything reckless, little morsels.", the gruff one says lazily, taking a step toward Penelope and Miranda. The other continued in his sweet-as-honey voice, "Indeed, it's already bad manners, breaking into someone else's home. You don't need to pick a fight with the owner, eh? But!", he clapped his sharp-nailed hands together. "-you are welcome still." A tense expression formed on Miranda's face as she narrowed her eyes at the dandy vampire.

"You're the ones responsible for that-", Penelope asked, only to be interrupted.

"...music? Yes we are. We're travelling entertainers. Of a sort. And if you would kindly... lower your wands, perhaps we can give you a demonstration."

Reluctantly, the pair of witches decided to give in to the invitation, after a moment that seemed to drag on forever. In sequence, the vampires introduced themselves -- the brute was called Conrad Ehrling, while the other was Bardon Hurst. One swift clap, and the harp's strings ceased to animate and with it, the music was gone. After that, the two vampires began their peculiar play with a daring duel. Bardon disappeared behind one of the curtains, only to return, basket-hilted claymore in hand, while Conrad remained unarmed. They spun and swung in deadly fashion and made for an authentic display at first -- until their gaze turned to the two Ravenclaws with a mischievous smile.

From one moment to the next, the claymore flew through the air and changed hands. The exaggerated lunges and overhead swings, followed by disarming by Bardon and Conrad in quick succession made the sword appear like a piece of wet soap, ever flitting out of the grasping hand.
Neither Miranda or Penelope could hold back a chuckle at the absurd display infront of them. "What kind of entertainers are you?",
Miranda called out with an incredulous smile. Bardon, now unarmed, turned to answer.

"The kind that m-", he broke off with a sharp gasp, as his wild companion thrust the sword straight into him.

Or so it seemed.

One dramatic sweeping gesture later, Bardon revealed the oldest trick in an actor's book when it came to being stabbed, as the blade was propped between his arm and his side. Applause was given, and it was obvious by the shifting of an otherwise unreadable gruff expression that this had been Conrad's favorite act. After stowing away the claymore, Bardon pulled an old brass flute out from his cloak, while Conrad brought out a small cage. In it sat, much smaller than any of its kin outside, a spider. Blue and black shaped a colour pattern on its eight-legged frame, creating a vibrant mixture with its multiple red eyes peering about. On the cage was a small metal sign: 'Frau Octa', most likely the name of the spider. Trained and rather intelligent, Octa crawled out of her cage and onto Conrad's hand, where she received gentle strokes over her finely haired legs, but otherwise remained still.

Again the sound of music rang throughout the tent, as the dandy vampire pressed his lips on the flute, working the holes with skilled fingers.
This tune felt as magical as the one before, though Penelope and Miranda, in silent nods to eachother, understood that it wasn't meant to affect them.
Instead, the spider tip-tapped her way up along the brute's well-muscled arm with an occasional twirl. The pair of witches felt slight discomfort when Octa stopped right on Conrad's face, who appeared unfazed. Just then the music picked up more, circling on high notes, and the spider lept in a somersault back into the cage, to which a shorter applause than before followed.

Deciding that there had been enough physical acts, the vampires opted to continue with songs and stories. Conrad in particular turned out to be an animate, excitable storyteller, often interrupted by his partner when the exaggerations became a little too wild. And so the hours of the late night came to pass with the tale of Boris the Berserk of Bohemia, a 14th century warlord turned vampire; accounts of rare secluded vampires desperately vying for aid in the creation of some blood substitute; and answers to the many budding questions Penelope and Miranda had for their hosts.

Soon enough, even without the lullaby tune, the two witches, leaning on each other, found themselves falling fast asleep.

The next morning they awoke, on conjured sleeping mats within the ruined courtyard. No trace of the tent was to be seen.
"Was it real?", they wondered, only to find at least some proof of that last, dreamy night. A letter sitting on some wrapped, thin package.

"To our dear 'Invaders',
we wish to express our utmost gratitude to the lively, riveting company this past evening. It seldom occurs that our kind isn't met with suspicion and outright fear, we hope to have proven a different case. As a parting gift to such lovely adventurous spirits, we leave you this woven cloak of Thestral hair.
When all the doom and gloom of the world pours forth at you, wear it, and you will know that the taste of death does not always mean the loss of life."

Esteemed regards,
Signed
C. and B.

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Pub: 30 Mar 2023 17:51 UTC

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