THE LIMITS OF THE DEAD /-/ fire powers, open

[rochelle]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 50%; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px;"]On edge. That's what she's been feeling lately ... like she's just borderline okay, like a feather teetering on the tip of a needle. Needless to say, the smell of fire stirred something within her, as she was sorting through her shack, preparing to sleep. It brings her to her feet, and her joints are wobbly, like she just might slip and fall over on to her side. But she goes, with her satchel just in case. Her mind is bouncing between thoughts. Rationally, it could just be a bonfire. Irrationally, she's thinking no one would try to set up a bonfire in the middle of the night. And so her pace is quickening towards the smell, and lingering on the tail of it is that of Temulin's. Her heart drops low, like the presence of the Sage is telling of the disaster she's about to face.

But then she breaks through, and there's only a faint lapping of flames, and through the shading, her sightless eyes, she can see the traces of light. The splotches of embers come flowing from the direction of Deldrach's scent, and her frame loosens, her tension releases and pulls back like a retreating tide. " Yes ... you must be blessed ..." Fischer murmured, echoing the comment of Temulin's. It makes her think of her gods and goddesses. The black smoke couldn't fathom a gift being bestowed on to her by Nereides herself, no, not the fire ... if she was worthy, water would come rushing through her veins. The will to curve the strength of water, manipulate it, use it for good ... it was inspiration enough for Fischer to pray to the mother goddess. For now, though, she simply smiled, blinking onward in the direction of Deldrach.