Bartimaeus: My Version

The ravens continued staring quietly at the conflict without so much as a sound. After a while the bird in the middle sighed. "Well, let's get on with this." He flapped his wings and shot off across the expansive road, landing on a windowsill. Glancing around the room briefly, the raven's form disappeared and molded into a bare chested boy, no more than 14 years old by the looks. His dark hair fell almost to his shoulders, but not quite. He wore naught but faded jeans, a barbed tail emerging from them. The boy had coffee-colored skin and blended in with the dull brown bricks surrounding himself. Glancing down to make sure he wasn't being watched, the boy placed clawed hands against the windowsill after carefully checking for any traps that might set off an alarm or, worse, send off silver sparks. Shaking his head, he carefully opened the window and sprung tiger-like into the room where an old man lay sleeping, masses of wine bottles and aluminum beer cans littering the place. Grimacing, the boy stood from his crouch, walking over to the man softly. His ears, slightly pointed, were decorated with small golden rings inlaid with little sapphires. The boy's features lightened up into one of glee; the man would be gone and wouldn't be found alive ever again. Sliding his index finger across the man's throat in a flash, he watched, his arms crossed, as the old man slowly choked to death in his own bloodied throat. Sighing, he shook his head; humans ended others' lives just for a simple argument or disregard. He didn't feel sorry for them; dearest, no. Back on the roof, the ravens flitted nervously after seeing the metal glinting in the sun's rays. A metal of some sort, which they couldn't tell from here; it could be silver, it might not be. It might even be colored iron.