ISLA
"That's surprising. Is it that you're not properly corporeal as an ifrit, then?" Isla wonders, intensely focused on his shift in a way that only the scientific and vaguely drunk can be. (So really, the Remedy is honed in like a laser). If there wasn't fire manipulation to be done, she'd absolutely want to reach out and properly grasp his hand to see if she passes straight through; for now, though, this takes precedence.
"Alright. Don't make fun though, okay? This is still quite new to me." Focusing on the fire that shrouds the alchemist rather than the burning, man-shaped core of his shift, it's likely no surprise to either of them that the first thing she attempts to do is to make the flames grow. Tendrils of red spiral up and out from the ifrit's form, writhing in a way that doesn't seem at all organic, before reducing significantly.
Delighted by her success, Isla tries again, this time trying to manipulate the vague form of a flaming lion around Remi, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Alright. Don't make fun though, okay? This is still quite new to me." Focusing on the fire that shrouds the alchemist rather than the burning, man-shaped core of his shift, it's likely no surprise to either of them that the first thing she attempts to do is to make the flames grow. Tendrils of red spiral up and out from the ifrit's form, writhing in a way that doesn't seem at all organic, before reducing significantly.
Delighted by her success, Isla tries again, this time trying to manipulate the vague form of a flaming lion around Remi, her brow furrowed in concentration.
she's a runner
rebel, and a stunner
rebel, and a stunner
