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The sudden lack of pained terrorized screaming from down the hall is the only precursor to Ahmya's study door slamming open. Gladion jumps, almost sloshing his wine over the book in his lap, the vampire hesitantly peeking over the back of the couch. Setting his glass down and slotting a bookmark in place as the witch's stomping steps get closer and closer to the library.
A burst of energy slams the door open and Ahmya appears in a flurry of tangled black hair and stained clothes. Eyes glowing brighter than the sun with barely restrained magical energy. Multi-colored sparks dancing along the tangles in her hair. She was a sight to behold as she stomps over to her spellbooks, hissing curses under her breath. You could taste the power in the air and it sets Gladion's fangs on edge.
"Something go wrong, 'Mya?" He asks tentatively, the vampire arching a brow when he received a harsh grunt in answer.
"Yes. My giant Dionaea Muscipula is refusing food and the hybrid is regurgitating some odd purple goop everytime I get near it." She gestures frustratedly to the purple splotches littering her dress. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go de-stress before even attempting to tackle the mess they've made!" Ahmya turns on her heel, spellbook in hand and a far too determined look on her face for Gladion's liking. That look always spelled trouble for everyone involved.
"Where are you going, love?"
"To make some changes to the living room!" She says curtly, then disappears out the the door as quickly as she came - sparking ponytail swinging behind her.
Gladion sighed deeply and shook his head, more than five hundred years old and she still acted like a child when things didn't go her way. 'But atleast this time,' he thinks as the first sound of shattering porcelain is heard, 'She's leaving the library alone.'