Iskra
I'm chasing starlight to find it's died away
Magic is one of those things that no one really seems to understand well. At least, as far as he knows, but he's certainly not the most studious person, nor is he a scientist of any sort. Maybe he could ask Elizabeth about this and she'd know something more than the mental shrug he feels rise up when Deimos admits his fire magic came fast and sudden. Nothing specific to the element then, though it's a bit of a relief to hear that even the Sword had to practice at some of them, like his air and earth. Which is funny, Iskra thinks, because he'd have much assumed the opposite about Deimos if it had anything at all to do with personality alignment. Then again, he doesn't know the Warden entirely well, just in the distance of tales and legends and as the figurehead of his home, where many other people crowd between them and his own preference to wander the woods adding to it."Hmmm," Iskra muses aloud, tilting his head back, but it's unsettling to just peer up at the faceless dark. Maybe he has more appreciation for Safrin than he ever realized, not particularly caring for her absence. "It seems we're just lucky enough to wield it, not to understand it." More flame dances from his hand into the lanterns, wherever it is that Erebos chooses to place them down.
