My creators, give me strength, or I will set his hair on fire.
She knew very well that was something she would not do, not anymore, at least (it was messy, too easy to detect, too many things could go wrong) – if she’d wanted revenge, air would have been the right element.
But she didn’t want that, either. She was accustomed to how proud of himself he could become whenever he proved her wrong – she was a sore loser, and had no means of hiding it. To a certain degree, she even enjoyed it, although she would never admit to it. “See, this is why you wouldn’t make for a good adventurer. You could never explore, let’s say, elvhen temples.” She mused, her mind almost immediately jumping to Solasan – the Temple of Pride, and it’s inscription on the door. Emma solas him var din’an. Arrogance became our end. She had a hard time thinking of those words applied to the modern days.
Melana en athim las enaste. Now let humility grant favor. She had to try, at least, no?
“You shems are all the same to me still!” She protested, almost instantly realizing that was not the way to go about this. She paused, exhaled – a long and dragged out motion – then spoke again. “But it’s not even that, not truly. I’m more used to listening to people than watching them – I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent too much time in a forest. I’m too Dalish for this.” She chuckled at the thought – she had never been Dalish enough for her clan, not really. But they would never truly consider an outsider as one of their own, even if Seren herself did. She’d been born away, there would always be some strangeness in her.
“Fine, let’s try again… but first, you give me a quick lesson, how’s that sound?” She questioned, curiously, nose scrunching up as she examined the two girls. She could sympathize with the bundled up girl – for her, it felt as though Seoul was always much too cold. Yet the other… she was being more… fashionable? Was that even the right word?
By Mythal, what am I getting myself into?
