they said fight fire with fire but i just got ash

For all his complaining and irritation and general bitching about those supernatural matters in general the Hunter was almost willing to admit, almost (likely meaning that he never would) that this festival was not entirely too bad. In all the years he had worked at it before, patrolling the grounds to make sure no stupid human fell victim to some wanton magic, he had never truly experienced it before. He had never paid attention to those stalls- at least not really. The Hunter content in that realization that he did perhaps possess some vague sort of fleeting interest in several of those artifacts. A part of him was almost curious as to what they did and how. That very curiosity alone perhaps prompting the man to peer more closely at those varying bowls of powder at one particular store. What on earth did these witches do with powder? It looked like bloody laundry powder as far as he was concerned. Hell, some of it probably was. Did witches ever use their magic for domestic cleaning? It was probably possible and yet really he supposed if witches spent their lives trying to learn to become home makers he would be relatively out of a job. There was nothing threatening to humans after all, about supernaturally white sheets.

He hardly anticipated that young witch lifting that bowl towards him, or the sudden breeze that saw fit to blow a handful of that contents towards him. The sensation of that powder on his nose prompting a veritable fit of sneezes. He'd been fucking cursed. He knew it! He knew this would happen! Either that or he was having some sort of allergic reaction to it. He could near feel that tickling sensation in his nose. The laughter of that witch behind the stall only prompting the Hunter to round on her with a pointed glare that readily saw her fall silent before those irritable words were directed toward Sera herself with that demand to know what on earth he'd been poisoned with and whether or not he needed immediate medical attention. That exasperated sigh from his own girlfriend hardly seeming to settle the man any further, Azrael brushing hurriedly at his nose as if hoping he might somehow wipe what remained of that powder away. That tickling sensation at last beginning to settle as Serafina promptly announced it to be Lapis Lazuli powder. That near blank look she was afforded with apparently inspiring her to offer that assurance it was a type of rock. That scowl on the blonde mans features only deepening as he regarded her.

"Because your supposed to breath in bloody rocks! I better be goddamn fine."

Those early words were near sarcastic in tone and yet it was hardly at her the man was irritable. The breeze, he supposed, was the true criminal in this event and yet there was likely no fit punishment for the atmosphere. This was one battle the Hunter was, reluctantly, about to be forced to lose. Still- he hardly intended on staying in this section any longer. Who know what other sort of ridiculous dust he might inhale? The man promptly leading the pair away from that stall and that still sniggering witchy woman and into another section entirely. Just what sort of area they were in now he hardly knew and yet no one was holding bowls of powder in the least. That low hum of magic however existed all the same. He could feel it on his skin, like a static he kept wanting to brush away. He had become so decidedly used to Sera that her very species no longer afforded him any concern at all and yet it was if his body had become tolerant of Sera alone. Every other witch they passed, every thrum of that magically undercurrent that existed within this place was a sensation he could feel- one that was....mildly irritating and yet one he ignored all the same even if only for Sera's benefit. Despite himself he was determined to be a good boyfriend. She said nothing about his Hunting, about his showing up at two in the morning on her doorstep some nights or using her shower to wash god knows whose blood off him. The only thing she complained about was him waking her up and his feet being cold when he got into bed. Azrael having taken to leaving his socks on. It was the little things- after all- the showed he cared. Still- she was tolerant of his hunting and in turn, he was determined to be more tolerant of her.....whatever it was witches did. Magicking? Even if he had to breath in a bloody rock.

Whatever internal consideration the man had been content to mull over were momentarily forgotten at the sight of one particular tent. The other witches were walking around this one. As if even they feared getting close. Azrael eyeing those ingredients in bottles and jars and laid out on tables. The vast majority of them claiming to be some sort of grizzley animal part. The very sort of thing he'd always believed to be, well, a joke really. Even in all the years he had hunted witches himself he'd never come across one keeping this sort of ingredient base in her house or shop. His hand gesturing toward it then if only to draw Sera's attention to it in turn. He could feel something coming from this shop and that old woman. Something entirely different then the energy around them so far. That feeling of static dancing on his skin readily replaced with with something almost...painful. Like a cold that seemed to get into his very veins. Those very instincts his Hunter being so relied upon to survive readily beginning to flash. Azrael decidedly...wary of that woman. Serafina near confirming his whispered suspicion then. That it was the witch herself giving off that...feeling that even her own kind seemed to be aware off. That sudden mention of Death magic seeing his golden eyes widen.

"Death Magic? You mean Black Magic? Illegal magic?"

Whatever else he had been about to comment was cut short but Sera's sudden decision to 'see what she had to sell'. Azrael eyeing his girlfriend as if she had lost her mind entirely before she grasped his hand and proceeded to pull him forward into what he was mostly assured was the Tent of Death. His own senses near peaking in those moments as his jaw set in a decidedly firm line. He could feel everything in this tent. It was almost...overwhelming and yet he so staunchly refused to leave Serafina alone in here.

"This is a bad idea."

He uttered to the raven-haired woman alone. Even if this old woman was one of her fellow witches there was still something...wrong with her. Even if Azrael hardly knew exactly. Every other witch was avoiding this tent. Didn't that mean something? Still- the only witch he cared about in this entire place was his witch. Azrael lingering close beside her as his own affinities near hummed at the surface in readiness to defend them both if need be. Sera greeting that other witch with an uncharacteristic delight that saw the Hunter lift one eye and yet he made little comment on it. The old woman allowed a smile to find her own lips and yet she hardly replied. Azrael aware of her eyes following them as they moved about that tent all the same. She was watching them almost intently. Too intently. That tightening grip on his hand assuring him Sera was hardly as comfortable as she pretended to be. Azrael softly squeezing it back in that simple reassurance. The hunter ready to throw up those light shields at any moment.

His own attention shifted to those shelves beside him. The vast majority of them littered with those animal parts that made is stomach turn and yet, amongst those bits were a variety of...trinkets the man hardly understood in any sense. The eyes of that old woman boring in his back with every passing moment. Did she know what he was? That desire to keep his own eyes on her tugging at him still.

"I like your...er.....spoon."

It was not, he suspected, a spoon and yet he hardly knew what the damn thing was. A wooden stick? Those words a simple excuse to turn back and face her. The old woman blatantly staring at them both. The silence seeming to echo for several moments longer before she seemed to decided to speak. It's eighty dollars

"Are you fucking kidding me? For that spoon-thing? I- I mean, I'll think about it."

He corrected himself. Azrael for once, unwilling to pick a fight with this woman as he remained beside Sera all the same. His gaze returning to those artefacts that surrounded them, the man muttering under his breath about extortionist prices all the same. The pair almost having completed a lap of that tent when the distinct sound of something moving readily saw Azrael pause. It was almost imperceptible and yet he was sure he'd heard it. The Hunter pausing abruptly to look around and yet the sound hardly came again. Azrael shrugging before looking back to that shelf. Only to hear that sound a second time, the man near whirling in place now, that supernatural speed affording him that chance to see that old woman quickly flicking the corner of a blanket down and over something near her feet. What on earth? His own gaze lifted once more, meeting the woman's eyes. The hunter noting for the first time they were nearly as dark as his own were gold. Azrael stepping slightly to the side then to eye whatever it was at her feet. That cover failing to conceal that cage entirely. Two little paws flicking out from the bars before a sandy coloured furry face appeared.

"Is that a cat?"

He'd never seen a cat exactly that colour before, at least, what he could see of it and yet that sense of unease stirred within him again. The woman apparently having forgotten how to speak all over again and she simply continued staring at him.

"You can't sell living animals here. This festival doesn't have an animal license. You have to-"

The very realization that the woman was not intending to sell it alive seemed to dawn on him in that moment. Azrael glancing around at those animal parts once more. How many of these were cats? He was hardly an animal lover in any sense and yet he hardly wished them any harm either. His jaw setting near firmly once more as his gaze shifted from Sera and back to the woman again. God, he couldn't believe he was about to do this. Fucking stupid cat.

"How much is the cat- as it is? Alive."

Five thousand dollars. It's a Sand Cat, hard to come by, hard to come by.

Azrael