Jaw drops, and her eyes widen. “S-sorceress? I only know basic spells!” Really basic. But, she’s getting better each day and with practice. Soon, she’ll be able to use a weapon and spells.
Sharena drops to the ground, crawling the short distance until she is next to him, where she tries and looks at him. “C'mon, Hector, please? Pretty please?” Expression turns a bit pitiful, mossy eyes wide and a pout on her lips. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I mixed too many serrano seeds with the sprinkles.”
Suddenly, the princess is sitting on her knees. “I know! How about I make it up to you?” Signature is forgotten as her hand goes to her chin, and she thinks, a nail tracing the underside of her lips.
“Let’s see… I could make a dish for you. Or I can teach you how to climb walls or surf. Maybe we could spar? I’m a great sparring partner…” There’s a pause before she presses herself against sand—its warm against her stomach—and looks at Hector. She’s quite serious despite the excited energy radiating off her.
“Hector, I really am sorry. Let me make it up to you.” A wide grin appears on her face. “Who knows! We might have a blast!”
On top of reminding him of that terrible experience, she’s in his sun now, too. With a grumble, he shifts and tries to get comfy again. Just as quick, though, the shade disappears, replaced by... the sounds of something shuffling in the sand. Cracking an eye open, he frowns.
When he sees the look plastered on her face, he knows at once he’s in trouble.
The witch is at it again, his mind whispers. If he doesn’t take care, he’ll wind up in her thrall anew, and he doesn’t much care to try his hand at whatever wicked new concoction she’s come up with this time. Seeing as how she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, though...
Propping himself up on an elbow, fist squished into his cheek, he watches as Sharena goes about apologizing. Pensiveness suits her better than it does him. He leaves her to her thoughts,
until he can’t really take anymore of it. With a growl and a glower, he roughly pushes himself up. Sitting up, hands behind him holding up up, he shakes his head.
“Look, I don’t... need any of that stuff... though I’m not one to say no to a spar...” This last bit had been a bit quieter, albeit still audible. In any case, he sure in blazes didn’t plan on eating anything of hers anytime soon. “If you want a signature, just promise you won’t hit me with serrano again, or whatever that was.” He waves it off. No long term harm done, at any rate. . .
“You know how to surf?” A pause. Contemplation. “You really think I could learn it?”
