magic itching in her veins

Weaver

Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;

She has known only Caido, only it’s trials and tribulations. And even that, in its way, has been sheltered. Life contained to the cold northern reaches of her tundra home. The monsters of Halo were predictable enough things, carnivores and blizzards, blood and ice. Around her, the elemental storms raged, and they knew little of the rest of the world. They knew little of it in general, given how difficult even communication is between Halo and other regions. The few open regions of Caido alone were a novelty to her. To live lifetimes and yet to be so young...she would not quite know how to understand it, if he explained it to her.

Weddings though, are something she understands. An excuse to dress up, an excuse to drink, an excuse to celebrate and forget, if only for a moment. They are a reason to rejoice, and the gods only know, they could use reasons to rejoice. She nods at his words, smiling slightly. ”I think I’m supposed to ask what you intend to do with your short lived freedom, though I suspect you are the settling type. Still, any sort of stag do planned?” Was that even a thing he’d know of, or was that only Caido? Or perhaps only Halo. She doesn’t actually know.

it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.