if it doesn't burn a little
Definitely not an Outlander, just an outsider to the Grounds. Her Caido roots probably show as she offers something in return, born and fed on a diet of bartering. Nothing was given for free in Halo, for all commodities were too precious. Though often, things were excessively cheap. The Halovians gave kindness in the form of unfair bargains, the sort that allow someone to save face while allowing someone else to give freely. Or freely enough that the cost is irrelevant. Still, it is strange to her to be allowed to simply take, and she nods her thanks.
Weaver smiles at Deimos as he greets her in his usual, talkative fashion. She notes how he snags another cookie, though she lets it go, willing to eat the scones as well if the cookies disappeared too quickly. ”I got better,” she says, wiggling her fingers at him, guessing he’ll understand her meaning. Her skills with fire are improving, and as much as she dislikes her teacher, she has to give Zariah some credit. She would not have learned so quickly without the Archmage.
For now though, she turns her attention to Amalia and the instructions she gives, picking up some wood and debating how she would fashion it for her brother this year. It usually ended up about the same, something tall and stoic and simple, as he had been in life. Her fingers work almost reflectively, beginning to build the structure, years of practice having taught them how to do this without much thought. She has had plenty of loss to remember during Leafchange, after all.
Weaver smiles at Deimos as he greets her in his usual, talkative fashion. She notes how he snags another cookie, though she lets it go, willing to eat the scones as well if the cookies disappeared too quickly. ”I got better,” she says, wiggling her fingers at him, guessing he’ll understand her meaning. Her skills with fire are improving, and as much as she dislikes her teacher, she has to give Zariah some credit. She would not have learned so quickly without the Archmage.
For now though, she turns her attention to Amalia and the instructions she gives, picking up some wood and debating how she would fashion it for her brother this year. It usually ended up about the same, something tall and stoic and simple, as he had been in life. Her fingers work almost reflectively, beginning to build the structure, years of practice having taught them how to do this without much thought. She has had plenty of loss to remember during Leafchange, after all.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
