The general was a relentless trainer, it seemed, and... honestly, even as part of her said, Wait!, the rest of her was kind of glad that he hadn't paused the training or, worse yet, stopped it entirely. He wasn't treating her like a damaged thing. He was treating her like an Aba-... like someone with magic who needed to be trained.
She brought her hands up again - somehow the gesture made it feel better to her, like something she was more in control of (and it felt like it took less concentration to pull off, even though she was sure that was her own imagination), and tried to direct puffs of air instead of columns, to choose which direction to redirect each mini torrent of flame.
She was breathing a little harder when she finished, but at least it was from the effort of spell-casting and not the result of slogging through the mud - and ice - of her memories.
She brought her hands up again - somehow the gesture made it feel better to her, like something she was more in control of (and it felt like it took less concentration to pull off, even though she was sure that was her own imagination), and tried to direct puffs of air instead of columns, to choose which direction to redirect each mini torrent of flame.
She was breathing a little harder when she finished, but at least it was from the effort of spell-casting and not the result of slogging through the mud - and ice - of her memories.
