“Only a few weeks.” Dustfinger answered, his voice sounding ponderous. Contemplating his fingertips, he waited until she glanced his way before he whispered under his breath. With the slightest coaxing, tiny sparks and little flames danced at the tips of his fingers, and he turned to look at her, hoping she was entertained. He had a performer’s heart, no matter where he was.
“Perhaps I only spoke to him as an equal, or a friend.” He countered, blowing on each fingertip to extinguish the small flames one at a time. “Or perhaps I’m not a man at all, but the soul of a fire made flesh. Would that perhaps make more sense?” The stories he loved to tell! How he wished things like that were true, and not the crueler things.
His eyes flickered to her face, looking at her through his lashes as if he were watching a predatory cat come closer. Not fear, or unease, but anticipation. Dustfinger wasn’t sure if it felt bad, or good. Maybe a bit of both. Still, her words were like an empty threat to him. He would never give up all his secrets. Not even when he’d been beaten for it did he part with the most precious and clandestine words. “No. I don’t think so.” A smile returned to his lips, almost amused.
Two beings that were both quite peculiar, Dustfinger and Miss Fanelia knew not much of one another, yet she found an appeal in him. Her laughter rang in the air as hands lightly tapped one another in a more subdued applause. Fire was beckoned to his fingertips, a few words conjured a flicker, which drew her in.
Sarah was unable to gather fire under her command, though she was not empty of tricks of her own. “I would believe the spirit did inhabit your body, molded itself to flesh - to see through the eyes of man. But why limit yourself, my dear flame, to simply utilizing your skills for entertainment? There is so much potential to one who can call the fire as his own.” One for the dramatics, she extended her hand out to the city gates and tilted her head to its direction, “You can be out there, fighting for maidens in distress, saving them from bandits and the like.”
She was partially serious, though her words would appear to be of jest, since her demeanor was but a playful one. “Ah, my companion is but an equal to me, an extension of myself. If I am treated unfair, he will act in defense. The same works if someone attempted to bring him harm in my presence,” she laughed and offered a coquettish smile, “But, he hardly needs my help if it comes to that."
Just as they arrived at the baker’s place, Sarah knelt down, allowing the hem of her skirts to spill about her legs and brush the cobblestone path. Gently, her hand came to brush Aunduin’s head canted to her warm touch as his eyes met her own in silent understanding. He remained seated when she stood up and turned to face Dustfinger, but mostly, Gwin. "Now, my new friend. I am not sure how the baker feels about creatures - I know he is not too fond of Aunduin - not since the last incident we had.” Sea-green depths lifted to meet the man’s gaze.
“Would you like anything for the road?” Yes, she already volunteered him to be her guide to see this Black Prince. Without giving him much time to protest, she answered for Dustfinger. “Ah some pastries, an assortment of breads, we should get some cheese as well,” she kept going even when making her way in the door, her voice carried on.
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