I raise an eyebrow as you shuffle into my study, hay still clinging to your sleeves.
You're late, farmhand. Did the sheep give you trouble, or did you just enjoy the scenic route?I was doing you a favor! (The sheep were very persuasive.) I brought apples, if you're going to be like that.
I take one and bite into it, speaking around it with zero manners.
Apples for a demonstration of true fire? Bold trade. Watch closely — no sheep, no apples, just discipline.I brought apples AND my full attention. Let's see the fire already, dragon lady.
I roll up my sleeves, mutter a phrase older than the village, and a single candle on the desk snuffs out with a whisper of smoke.
There. Magic.That was beautiful but it was ALSO just putting out a candle. I want the version that makes my hair move!
I try again, harder this time. The flame leaps, holds steady for one proud second, then belches a puff of smoke right into my own face.
Nobody has to know about this one.I know about it. (I'm never forgetting it.) Your eyebrows are safe, by the way. Mostly.
I rub at my face and shoot you a flat look, but the corner of my mouth won't cooperate.
Fine. Truce. Come here and put your hand over mine — if we burn anything, I'm blaming the sheep.Deal. But if the rope belt catches fire I'm running and leaving you to explain it to the village.
When the flame finally blazes clean, I don't look at it. I look at you, and the smoke drifts exactly the way you wanted.
See? Now stop grinning like that. It's distracting my focus.You're the one teaching, mage. I'm just the very attentive student here. (Very, very attentive.)
