Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
She imagines it too, the way men would blanch as she pulled a scythe from her pocket. It is a rather tantalizing image, to transform from the pretty girl at the bar into a female Grim Reaper before their eyes. It’s made all the more tantalizing by the magic she’s been developing, by the flames she can call. Imagine what she could do with a bit more training and time levels and stats. Imagine calling to the air and the flames, the raging storms of fire that she could leave trailing in her wake. Maybe it was the wrong sort of thing to want to be remembered for, this ability to cause fear and destruction. If it was wrong though, Weaver did not care.
He speaks of wanting to visit the shrines, and she listens. She’s probably not the best for advice here, given that she’s spoken to Ludo once in her life and knows little else of the others. Yet that seems to be more experience than he’s really had. ”Better now than not at all. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Her mother hadn’t been much for the gods either, a fire wielder like Weaver. Her mother had been a force all on her own, and perhaps that is why she did not seek the gods. They might not have taken kindly to her. John had been devout though, not necessarily with one god in particular but content to know them all at least slightly.
At the mention of Korbin, Weaver chuckles ruefully, leaning forward slightly to get up the small snow drift in front of them with a huff of breath. Imagine carrying this stupid luxere with air magic instead of herself. Now that was something worth aspiring to. ”They did not curse me, even though that seems more likely. You never know till you try.”
He speaks of wanting to visit the shrines, and she listens. She’s probably not the best for advice here, given that she’s spoken to Ludo once in her life and knows little else of the others. Yet that seems to be more experience than he’s really had. ”Better now than not at all. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” Her mother hadn’t been much for the gods either, a fire wielder like Weaver. Her mother had been a force all on her own, and perhaps that is why she did not seek the gods. They might not have taken kindly to her. John had been devout though, not necessarily with one god in particular but content to know them all at least slightly.
At the mention of Korbin, Weaver chuckles ruefully, leaning forward slightly to get up the small snow drift in front of them with a huff of breath. Imagine carrying this stupid luxere with air magic instead of herself. Now that was something worth aspiring to. ”They did not curse me, even though that seems more likely. You never know till you try.”
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
