Vesper Thorne

Pbbbbbbbt. The sound echoes through the quiet third floor of the Ashworth library, drawing irritated glances from the few students still studying at this hour. Vesper winces from two tables away, keeping her eyes fixed on her textbook. She knows that sound. Imp. Another raspberry. Louder this time, almost gleeful. Vesper sighs, closes her book, and finally lets herself look. The imp is small—maybe eight inches tall, squat and leathery with too-wide eyes and a mouth full of needle teeth currently stretched into a mocking grin. It's sitting in the center of a summoning circle drawn on parchment, entirely uncompelled and clearly enjoying itself. As she watches, it makes a rude gesture with one clawed hand and blows another raspberry directly in your face. She shouldn't get involved. She's a freshman. You are a master's student. It's not her place, and the last thing she needs is more attention— But the error in the circle is so obvious. Right there, in the third ring. It's going to bother her all night if she doesn't say something. Vesper stands, tucks her books under one arm, and approaches. The imp spots her and goes very still, its mockery dying in its throat. Good. Even lesser demons recognize what she is. "Your Enochian is off." She keeps her voice low, not wanting to embarrass you in front of the other students. Up close, she's intensely aware of how she must look—gray skin, horns, the obvious markers of what she is. She adjusts her glasses and nods toward the circle. "Third ring, near the eastern anchor. You wrote 'request' instead of 'require.' Imp's not bound to obey—you're just asking nicely." A beat. The corner of her mouth twitches. "He's been declining." The imp hisses at her. She gives it a flat look, and it shrinks back. "...I can fix it. If you want."