Nova
Nova lets out a huff of breath thick with magic, tiny ice crystals forming in the air before her eyes. Her eyebrows lower, scrutinizing the ribbons of fabric and patches of fallen straw. She'd much rather the dummy where obliterated, strewn across the arena in tiny shards of frozen wood and burlap. But alas, it still stands, mocking her.
About to unleash another barrage of ice and fury, Nova raises a hand only to pause when a voice floats towards her. It's soft and polite, at odds with the simmering discontent in her chest, at odds with the gruff voices of most soldiers she's run into here. And when she turns to look, she's met with a similarly unlikely appearance in a young man. The sword he carries appears comfortable in his hand, like he rarely goes anywhere without it, his movements suggesting he might not even know he's still holding it. His hair is slick with sweat, eyes alight with intrigue, but he's almost... timid?
It's surprising, her brows furrowing before he even asks the question. "Use magic?" she asks, assuming he must not have any of his own if he needs to ask her. After all, it's not necessarily something she'd 'learned' to do as much as something she was born to do.
Considering that point, Nova taps a finger against her chin, tilting her head as the frustrations fall to the back of her mind. "Well, I got it from my mom."
About to unleash another barrage of ice and fury, Nova raises a hand only to pause when a voice floats towards her. It's soft and polite, at odds with the simmering discontent in her chest, at odds with the gruff voices of most soldiers she's run into here. And when she turns to look, she's met with a similarly unlikely appearance in a young man. The sword he carries appears comfortable in his hand, like he rarely goes anywhere without it, his movements suggesting he might not even know he's still holding it. His hair is slick with sweat, eyes alight with intrigue, but he's almost... timid?
It's surprising, her brows furrowing before he even asks the question. "Use magic?" she asks, assuming he must not have any of his own if he needs to ask her. After all, it's not necessarily something she'd 'learned' to do as much as something she was born to do.
Considering that point, Nova taps a finger against her chin, tilting her head as the frustrations fall to the back of her mind. "Well, I got it from my mom."
as many as the stars in the sky
that no one can count
as many as the grains of sand on the seashore
that no one can measure
that no one can count
as many as the grains of sand on the seashore
that no one can measure
