Alys Glasse
Alys gasped for air, surprised at the physical exertion required by her use of magic. She hadn't been prepared for such palpable exhaustion to overtake her at maintaining even the smallest of illusions for so short a time. And yet, somehow, she dug down deep into reserves of stubbornness, and she applied that same dogged determination that she had once used to master the Tarot to the use of her magic. Her mouse caught and held at her feet, and after a minute, Deimos's approving rumble released her from her exertions.
When he suggested that she do it again, she offered a silent, half-hearted glare in his general direction. Of course she would have to keep trying. Practice, as she remembered from her occult studies, was the only way to improve. As she caught her breath, she studied her new mentor from beneath her lashes. "What was your magic like, when you first started?" she asked, still somewhat out of breath, but improving with each new intake of oxygen into her lungs.
When he suggested that she do it again, she offered a silent, half-hearted glare in his general direction. Of course she would have to keep trying. Practice, as she remembered from her occult studies, was the only way to improve. As she caught her breath, she studied her new mentor from beneath her lashes. "What was your magic like, when you first started?" she asked, still somewhat out of breath, but improving with each new intake of oxygen into her lungs.
