if it doesn't burn a little
She chuckles slightly. ”You say unlikely, and yet you are building an empire of bars across Caido. An underground network of informants. And you have lived here for how long? I’d argue there’s at least something bright about you.” The Fae would probably have something infinitely more cryptic and probably accurate, but was it so hard to predict possible futures? For someone like Sunjata, perhaps not. It mostly just came down to how you described “bright”.
He reaches for her not long after, and she moves quickly, years of practice fighting and hunting coming in handy in all parts of life. Weaver stares down into the stupid puddle, watching something vastly less cryptic unfold before her. It is simple. Her behind a bar, red and black, lines of bottles behind her. There’s no Korbin, and she wonders if the puddle is trying to tell her something by his absence, or if she’s simply only shown the thing currently on her mind.
Eventually she looks up when the puddle disappears. ”That puddle wants you to know you have a bright future too,” she tells him with a chuckle. ”Honestly I just saw the bar. Magic picking at the thing on my mind, I guess.”
He reaches for her not long after, and she moves quickly, years of practice fighting and hunting coming in handy in all parts of life. Weaver stares down into the stupid puddle, watching something vastly less cryptic unfold before her. It is simple. Her behind a bar, red and black, lines of bottles behind her. There’s no Korbin, and she wonders if the puddle is trying to tell her something by his absence, or if she’s simply only shown the thing currently on her mind.
Eventually she looks up when the puddle disappears. ”That puddle wants you to know you have a bright future too,” she tells him with a chuckle. ”Honestly I just saw the bar. Magic picking at the thing on my mind, I guess.”
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
