if it doesn't burn a little
He skims the truth, offering only a hint of it, but she lets it drop. He may trust her enough to run a bar, but they were not so close that she should expect more from him. Yet, the next thing he offers is personal, and she softens slightly. ”I’m sorry to hear it,” she says, because she is sorry, and she is not the type to offer sorry’s that she does not mean. ”Perhaps one day you can tell me about her.” Certainly with booze in hand, perhaps tucked beside the fire of the soon-to-be Kraai. She was building a place of secrets, after all, and everything about it’s design would be to invite them in.
She listens to the story of the dragon and does her very best not to explode, possibly literally, at the idea of it all. In fact, she does a good job of it, and there’s only a hint of annoyance that crosses her face. ”Out of curiosity, did you consult a Halovian? Because any reasonable one would have told you that dragons are not the sort of creatures who come willing.” She is not very prejudiced, but she is vaguely tired of fools running into their lands like they have a clue. Maybe she shouldn’t care. If they want to be fools, let them, what skin is it off her back? But she does care, and she cannot help it. She cares for the damn fools and she’d rather they live.
He asks of the Academy, and Weaver nods. Maybe she is also a fool for still being there, under Zariah the Merciless (what a fitting title), and yet...Weaver puts out her hand, flames leaping to life on her palm with a thought. They sizzle against the rain but do not go out. She forms them into a ball, and it slithers up her arm and around, back down, to rest in her palm before disappearing. ”I am. It seems to be working, so...” So she’d deal with Zariah and her methods.
She listens to the story of the dragon and does her very best not to explode, possibly literally, at the idea of it all. In fact, she does a good job of it, and there’s only a hint of annoyance that crosses her face. ”Out of curiosity, did you consult a Halovian? Because any reasonable one would have told you that dragons are not the sort of creatures who come willing.” She is not very prejudiced, but she is vaguely tired of fools running into their lands like they have a clue. Maybe she shouldn’t care. If they want to be fools, let them, what skin is it off her back? But she does care, and she cannot help it. She cares for the damn fools and she’d rather they live.
He asks of the Academy, and Weaver nods. Maybe she is also a fool for still being there, under Zariah the Merciless (what a fitting title), and yet...Weaver puts out her hand, flames leaping to life on her palm with a thought. They sizzle against the rain but do not go out. She forms them into a ball, and it slithers up her arm and around, back down, to rest in her palm before disappearing. ”I am. It seems to be working, so...” So she’d deal with Zariah and her methods.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
