Partially muffled laughter brought a flare of heat to Nina's face as she schooled her expression into something neutral, devoid of the sudden embarrassment that surged at the warden's mirth. Perhaps joining in this exercise had been a mistake; perhaps she should not have held back quite so much as to be laughable. And yet... without having truly fought with her magic before, how could she possibly know how to hone her skills in this way? Surely it would take practice and discipline, just as her work as keeper did.
She watched, stoic, as the ursur repaired itself and continued on its path, a muted roar drawing Ember's attention briefly before the fire elemental went back to chasing its own target. Deimos's voice, when it came, was kinder than she had expected, and she felt her metaphorical hackles begin to lower as he offered guidance. The warden was an enigma to her; he was such an important figure, and someone she wanted to impress, and yet here she was, revealing her shortcomings as though they were not something to be ashamed of.
"I will keep that in mind," she said drily, then gathered herself for another round. This time, she aimed for the chest: a broad target, and one not nearly as easy to miss. And, presumably, any hit on one's chest would do a great deal of damage, even if it was not perfectly, precisely placed. With that in mind, her whip of fire snaked out, drilling into the snow-ursur's chest. It was not a perfect shot on the heart, but it was a respectable hit all the same, and Nina hoped that it would garner some level of approval.
She watched, stoic, as the ursur repaired itself and continued on its path, a muted roar drawing Ember's attention briefly before the fire elemental went back to chasing its own target. Deimos's voice, when it came, was kinder than she had expected, and she felt her metaphorical hackles begin to lower as he offered guidance. The warden was an enigma to her; he was such an important figure, and someone she wanted to impress, and yet here she was, revealing her shortcomings as though they were not something to be ashamed of.
"I will keep that in mind," she said drily, then gathered herself for another round. This time, she aimed for the chest: a broad target, and one not nearly as easy to miss. And, presumably, any hit on one's chest would do a great deal of damage, even if it was not perfectly, precisely placed. With that in mind, her whip of fire snaked out, drilling into the snow-ursur's chest. It was not a perfect shot on the heart, but it was a respectable hit all the same, and Nina hoped that it would garner some level of approval.
Nina
