they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
His question is met with a slight raised brow as she activates her upgrade again. She hasn’t tested it – in fact, the test had been entirely on him to see if it even worked in the first place. So as he begins to drift away from her, she keeps her upgrade activated, keeps her eyes on his hands as she stands in the same place, watching casually to see what changes there are.
“You have good control, is it affecting it?” She asks, squinting as though she can see the way it ebbs and flows in a way that’s not expected, not warranted. “I can see it twist and… Sputter?” She purses her lips thoughtfully, turning her palms up to try and create a small flame within her palm as well, only to find it dead within as well, as though there’s a plug on that channel and well of magic she holds so close. Her gaze flits toward Deimos then, turning off her upgrade, waiting to see if his flames react to his control once more.
“You have good control, is it affecting it?” She asks, squinting as though she can see the way it ebbs and flows in a way that’s not expected, not warranted. “I can see it twist and… Sputter?” She purses her lips thoughtfully, turning her palms up to try and create a small flame within her palm as well, only to find it dead within as well, as though there’s a plug on that channel and well of magic she holds so close. Her gaze flits toward Deimos then, turning off her upgrade, waiting to see if his flames react to his control once more.
REXANNA
