60th Zi'da 717
“How’s your progress on the gem?”, Yana asked, pulling the oars towards her, then pushing them away, sending the sloop through the calm waves of the sea. They’d come a long way, and her arms were getting tired, and she was fairly sure that Fiona was taking advantage of her proposal. In hindsight, maybe she ought to have specified a time limit for this thing, as she really had no idea how long identifying the gem would take, or how complex the process was. The intricacies of Magic wasn’t a subject she was very knowledgeable on at all, despite seeing mages here and there in her time with the Etzori army.
She was very definitely sure of one thing though: Fiona was taking advantage of her ignorance.
Correction: Fiona had long taken advantage of her ignorance. This was just one more in a list of ‘oh, you silly non-magical mundane’ grievances they had going all the way back to the Etzori regulars.
“It’s going really well.” Fiona said, her hands clasped over the gem snugly on her lap. The mage wasn’t even pretending to exert effort. Brown haired, pretty as a dime, and with a charming disposition roughly approximating a arcanic rabies-infected pitbull crossed with the territorial instincts of a king crocodile, Fiona’s friendliness was as transparent as ever, used only to mock rather than to assure and comfort. “I’m sure we’ll get answers once we reach the crew. I would help you with those things,” She gestured towards the oars like she had just noticed them. “But you know how I am with wood.” Or trivial manual labor for someone else to do, was the real silent response.
“I’ve been led to believe you were quite good at handling wood,” the Yludih remarked without missing a beat. “Especially hard wood.” The Fiona she had met in the Etzori army, a young girl bordering on the feral and all-too-bitter about being conscripted against her own will, would have scowled or snapped back or threatened physical violence. The young woman she had become in the present simply responded with an unsmiling wink. Yana stared for a moment, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to get into an argument with someone she would need later on. Or might need. Besides, Fiona was … volatile to put it lightly. “I said I would row us around today, didn’t I? Dropping the facade is the least you can do.”
Fiona gave her a hard look that said so much that she didn’t need the words to vocalize what she was saying: you hypocrite. You absolute fuckin’ hypocrite.
“Of course.” came her real response. “I have come to the conclusion that this gem,” she leaned in a little closer, beckoning Yana to do the same. “Is magic.”
“How’s your progress on the gem?”, Yana asked, pulling the oars towards her, then pushing them away, sending the sloop through the calm waves of the sea. They’d come a long way, and her arms were getting tired, and she was fairly sure that Fiona was taking advantage of her proposal. In hindsight, maybe she ought to have specified a time limit for this thing, as she really had no idea how long identifying the gem would take, or how complex the process was. The intricacies of Magic wasn’t a subject she was very knowledgeable on at all, despite seeing mages here and there in her time with the Etzori army.
She was very definitely sure of one thing though: Fiona was taking advantage of her ignorance.
Correction: Fiona had long taken advantage of her ignorance. This was just one more in a list of ‘oh, you silly non-magical mundane’ grievances they had going all the way back to the Etzori regulars.
“It’s going really well.” Fiona said, her hands clasped over the gem snugly on her lap. The mage wasn’t even pretending to exert effort. Brown haired, pretty as a dime, and with a charming disposition roughly approximating a arcanic rabies-infected pitbull crossed with the territorial instincts of a king crocodile, Fiona’s friendliness was as transparent as ever, used only to mock rather than to assure and comfort. “I’m sure we’ll get answers once we reach the crew. I would help you with those things,” She gestured towards the oars like she had just noticed them. “But you know how I am with wood.” Or trivial manual labor for someone else to do, was the real silent response.
“I’ve been led to believe you were quite good at handling wood,” the Yludih remarked without missing a beat. “Especially hard wood.” The Fiona she had met in the Etzori army, a young girl bordering on the feral and all-too-bitter about being conscripted against her own will, would have scowled or snapped back or threatened physical violence. The young woman she had become in the present simply responded with an unsmiling wink. Yana stared for a moment, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to get into an argument with someone she would need later on. Or might need. Besides, Fiona was … volatile to put it lightly. “I said I would row us around today, didn’t I? Dropping the facade is the least you can do.”
Fiona gave her a hard look that said so much that she didn’t need the words to vocalize what she was saying: you hypocrite. You absolute fuckin’ hypocrite.
“Of course.” came her real response. “I have come to the conclusion that this gem,” she leaned in a little closer, beckoning Yana to do the same. “Is magic.”
