Bamburgh...was more inclined to expressing his frustrations about his magical powers and associated responsibilities. His sister, who was much farther along in her own journey with it, had told him all about the things he could expect for the future if he properly invested time and effort like she had. While encouraging, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea all the same.

Mostly, it was the responsibilities part. He could barely keep their flat neat and tidy between school and everything else, never mind adding visits to a magical place—which he still hadn't, admittedly—and trying to get it back up to muster, or however the saying goes, after a thousand years of being left abandoned. With his sort of luck, rather than a perfectly unpleasant ghost like his sister's, he'd likely find some horrendous creature or something out to kill him as soon as he got there.

But his sense of responsibility was such that he could never bring himself to fully ignore them. Procrastinate, sure. He was brilliant at that. But truly ignore and abandon?

Not possible. Not for him.

So tonight he was out on a stroll in a random park not far from school, minding his business while also keeping a proverbial eye out for any chaos energy signatures about. The goal was to thwart them, he supposed, though how he might do that with a rusty trowel was absolute beyond him.

"A round of tetanus, maybe?" he mused, one corner of his lips twitching up in slight amusement at the idea. The thought distracted him enough from the task at hand that he completely missed the chaos signature that was now somewhere in his immediate vicinity.

Noir Songbird