"He's fine," the bard hurried to assure her. "He became invisible before the boggart attacked, and I don't think it ever saw him. I should have led with that," he apologized with a rueful little smile and an odd twinge of envy through the bond. "We all are, now." Thanks to a judicious use of Healing magic on his part to stop the bleeding and fuse the broken ribs back together.
Amalia seemed well-suited to the water, he thought idly, admiring the strength and confidence of her stance and how she had changed and grown since they had first met. Safrin's name brought the flicker of a wince to his eyes, but he nodded rueful agreement. "Me too," he admitted with a sigh. "And while it does make some things easier, I think I need to remember that, just like when I arrived here... it can be ripped away at any time. I need to learn to control it without relying it for every little thing again." Control, though, was the first lesson of any new ability, and that was what he had asked for her help in practicing today.
He only partially understood how her magical items worked, but the way she flung the fire back, changed into a new shape, gave him an insight into its abilities - and hers, too. Insight he would have to ponder later, because there was no time to be distracted by academic fascination when fire zipped towards him like a hail of angry wasps. He reached out, the scintillating crimson string in his soul vibrating a fierce note, and tried to grasp hold of the small darts of heat and light. The ones in the middle, closest together, were easy enough to gather together and snuff, but he wasn't practiced enough yet to stop them all. He dropped flat in an undignified dodge to get beneath the remaining edges of the burst, and they flew past to be extinguished in a geyser that erupted behind him.
His attention was all for his friend and opponent, not the sky, and he was oblivious to the turning weather as he rose to a knee with a grin and flung not a ball but a spear of fire towards the baker, twisting the flames into a sharp and aerodynamic shape, nearly white-hot at its center.
Amalia seemed well-suited to the water, he thought idly, admiring the strength and confidence of her stance and how she had changed and grown since they had first met. Safrin's name brought the flicker of a wince to his eyes, but he nodded rueful agreement. "Me too," he admitted with a sigh. "And while it does make some things easier, I think I need to remember that, just like when I arrived here... it can be ripped away at any time. I need to learn to control it without relying it for every little thing again." Control, though, was the first lesson of any new ability, and that was what he had asked for her help in practicing today.
He only partially understood how her magical items worked, but the way she flung the fire back, changed into a new shape, gave him an insight into its abilities - and hers, too. Insight he would have to ponder later, because there was no time to be distracted by academic fascination when fire zipped towards him like a hail of angry wasps. He reached out, the scintillating crimson string in his soul vibrating a fierce note, and tried to grasp hold of the small darts of heat and light. The ones in the middle, closest together, were easy enough to gather together and snuff, but he wasn't practiced enough yet to stop them all. He dropped flat in an undignified dodge to get beneath the remaining edges of the burst, and they flew past to be extinguished in a geyser that erupted behind him.
His attention was all for his friend and opponent, not the sky, and he was oblivious to the turning weather as he rose to a knee with a grin and flung not a ball but a spear of fire towards the baker, twisting the flames into a sharp and aerodynamic shape, nearly white-hot at its center.
