It's not. Except most of the monsters in my world started out as people. Some of them are still people, like the well-intentioned extremist types. [ Quentin's world is more like the complex, shades of gray type of story than the more simple children's books he used to love. Sometimes he thinks it's too bad, really, since it would've made dealing with a lot of shit easier if so much didn't have the worst consequences, if he and his friends were just shiny heroes fighting against super evil villains who were evil just because.

He could say he’s a magician, but he figures showing him works just as well, too. Once Klaus has moved, Quentin holds out his hands, fingers moving together in a series of elaborate gestures that end with him holding both palms upward in front of him.

The ward crackles to life over the door, white tendrils branching out like webs to cover it. Quentin takes a breath, hands slowly falling back to his sides. Wow, that was... sort of satisfying. He'd only cast small spells since he arrived here, so there's an accomplishment that fills him at having done something just a bit larger. Not the same sort of thing he gets when he performs minor mendings, but still, it's nice to cast again. ] We call it a ward, it's like a shield, it'll stop anyone from coming through even if they break the door down. Unless the creepy nightmare fuel can do magic. [ Yeah, that's not a comforting thought.

He wanders over and slumps down beside Klaus, pulling his legs to his chest. ] I'm not as good a magician as my friend Eliot, but this should work for a while, if you wanted to rest.