WEAVER
Weaver chuckles, shaking her head. ”No, but luckily that’ll grow back on its own.” She’d apologize, but it seems unnecessary. Kiada didn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge over a little burnt hair. No, she seemed like a woman who knows the value in some singed hair, some bruises, some scars. It was a good workout, and she can feel the fatigue settling in, her magic still tiring to use. Creating fire was the hardest, but it got easier the more she did it.
”And how did you find it for the evening?” she asks, rather curious to know if the rooms were up to snuff. The Palace is unusually busy, given all the refugees that have come to Halo, though she weaves her way through them easily enough as they talk. It doesn’t take long for them to reach the main doors, and soon they are back out in the freezing cold of Snowcloak. ”Yes, I do, though I own the place. First drink is on the house for you, in exchange for the hair I burned.” She gives Kiada a wink, not feeling the cold, but moving quickly since she assumes Kiada will not want to be out here long.
”And how did you find it for the evening?” she asks, rather curious to know if the rooms were up to snuff. The Palace is unusually busy, given all the refugees that have come to Halo, though she weaves her way through them easily enough as they talk. It doesn’t take long for them to reach the main doors, and soon they are back out in the freezing cold of Snowcloak. ”Yes, I do, though I own the place. First drink is on the house for you, in exchange for the hair I burned.” She gives Kiada a wink, not feeling the cold, but moving quickly since she assumes Kiada will not want to be out here long.
I was made to be wild, wicked, and free
