When are you really gonna believe in yourself
Meira's gaze quickly flickers away from the story-teller and the bodies gathering around him. She finds herself peering at another woman who is approaching her with an expression caught somewhere between curious and bored. Meira watches her, in silence. She is too tired to put up much of a fight now, or so she thinks. The traitorous stars twinkle overhead, begging for her irritation at their betrayal to surface once more. This woman is smaller than her, and has oceans of ivory strewn across her skin. She is no unicorn. Her eyes are mismatched, peering out at her with curiosity. The unicorn waits to find out what she wants. The words that tumbled from the woman's mouth did ignite the fire in her belly. It was a quiet ignition, but she felt it. It would take no time at all for Meira to burn as hot as the fires strewn carelessly across the meadow. Her tongue begs for blood or mercury. The sensation grows when the woman plucks a ball of fire from the circle. She holds it in suspension between the two of them, toying with Meira. The Delumine soldier barks out a sarcastic laugh. A snarling grin etches itself onto her face. "No, I find mages, and liars distasteful. Story-tellers are just liars for the sake of entertainment." Meira responds to her, the indignation is clear in her voice as she speaks. The sea inside her rumbles at the very thought of her fearing something so simple.
What kind of soldier would she be if she were not built for war? "And I'm certainly not scared of you. Do you have nothing better to do than try and get a rise out of strangers? Meira asked her, her tones shifting to boredom. The woman who is made from a sea of earthen hues wonders if the mage knows that the fire she wields will not bow to her. It is an entity of chaos and does not do well being bound. In many ways the fire was like the sea, it was ever-changing and unforgiving. The Roanne woman smirks as she blows at the fire that hung in suspension, casting a dull glow across both of their fronts. It is an attempt to extinguish the apple-sized orb of flame. "You know, I heard somewhere mages of the flame are probably the most reckless. Is that true? Do you believe that fire would forgive you if you forgot to respect it even once?" Meira does not know what prompts her to ask this question, but part of her wants to give the woman a taste of her own medicine. It is her turn to feel the way the irritation crawls beneath her skin.
What kind of soldier would she be if she were not built for war? "And I'm certainly not scared of you. Do you have nothing better to do than try and get a rise out of strangers? Meira asked her, her tones shifting to boredom. The woman who is made from a sea of earthen hues wonders if the mage knows that the fire she wields will not bow to her. It is an entity of chaos and does not do well being bound. In many ways the fire was like the sea, it was ever-changing and unforgiving. The Roanne woman smirks as she blows at the fire that hung in suspension, casting a dull glow across both of their fronts. It is an attempt to extinguish the apple-sized orb of flame. "You know, I heard somewhere mages of the flame are probably the most reckless. Is that true? Do you believe that fire would forgive you if you forgot to respect it even once?" Meira does not know what prompts her to ask this question, but part of her wants to give the woman a taste of her own medicine. It is her turn to feel the way the irritation crawls beneath her skin.
