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 is generally pretty open minded, and she can understand trying to go save people. It’s the fact that those people couldn’t stay in their damn houses in the first place that will get to her. And she’s not likely to have a lot of sympathy, having grown up in a place that required them shelter inside for long stretches of time. You just prepare and then do it, and if you run out of food you just fucking starve till you can pop over to the neighbors again.
Weaver plucks a bit of his fire and draws it closer, stretching and shaping and spinning it around in the air before her. Simply working on control, on keeping her hands tucked to her sides and her mind on the conversation. If she can learn to work the fire while her mind is doing something else, while her hands are still, then she can learn to fight better with it as well. For her mind would be busy keeping tabs on the fight and not the flames, yet she needs to control them all the same.
”Took us to bars even as children. Sat us down in a booth with some food and explained how life works in the underbelly and the trenches. Taught us to read a room. We’d play a game, trying to predict what someone might do based on their actions or overheard words.” She taught Weaver how to use her femininity as well, though she leaves that part out, having a hard time bringing herself to share that with the mountain that was Deimos.
She chuckles at his next statement, nodding slightly. ”Well you are not actually my brother, so it’s much easier.” The implication is clear enough, that brothers are always disappointed by fiery younger sisters who could not be still. Ones who could not follow the rules when the point was to learn them. She’d always believed that you learned them only so you knew how to break them. ”You would have liked him though, I think.”
Weaver plucks a bit of his fire and draws it closer, stretching and shaping and spinning it around in the air before her. Simply working on control, on keeping her hands tucked to her sides and her mind on the conversation. If she can learn to work the fire while her mind is doing something else, while her hands are still, then she can learn to fight better with it as well. For her mind would be busy keeping tabs on the fight and not the flames, yet she needs to control them all the same.
”Took us to bars even as children. Sat us down in a booth with some food and explained how life works in the underbelly and the trenches. Taught us to read a room. We’d play a game, trying to predict what someone might do based on their actions or overheard words.” She taught Weaver how to use her femininity as well, though she leaves that part out, having a hard time bringing herself to share that with the mountain that was Deimos.
She chuckles at his next statement, nodding slightly. ”Well you are not actually my brother, so it’s much easier.” The implication is clear enough, that brothers are always disappointed by fiery younger sisters who could not be still. Ones who could not follow the rules when the point was to learn them. She’d always believed that you learned them only so you knew how to break them. ”You would have liked him though, I think.”
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.
