There is hostility thriving in the cavern again, even I’m not too absorbed in myself to notice, and for once, it is not my anger which heats the air with almost tangible electric crackles, which holds my eyes fast on the slope horned man in my cave. My lips still smile, a soft curve which mocks his outrage, which challenges his logic with the cool confidence of my own. I thoroughly trust in my chosen path – all Ashamin’s anger teaches me is that, perhaps, he questions his more often than a man his age should.

The off chance that my words instill fear in him flickers as a thought, my eyes trailing again down the strange, useless figure of his horn which sweeps down his homely features, lingering on the tip that should be a weapon, not some perverse mockery of our race. It could be he is not pure – which, honestly, is none of my regard, for he looks the part and surely could play it if he chose, though I pity his offspring born broken as their ancestors who lost their magic so long ago.

I bless the Gods for the purity of my lineage, that I will not have to slaughter my own blood to walk among the sacred.

I am torn from my thoughts by the harsh words which snap from his lips like snakes reaching for a passing limb, and for only the briefest of moments does my smile falter – because then he challenges me, a flurry of words cast over his shoulder as he turned to leave (and I would let him, because it meant that I had won our little verbal argument), and I find the smirk revitalized on my lips.

Never will I claim to be modest, for I believe in my strength and my training, and I find it unlikely that Ashamin will leave the spar he calls for as proud as he is now; I eye the tesla coil, and ponder about just what sort of gifts might be bestowed to a God’s chosen seer, but there is a recklessness in my young heart that makes these considerations only singular flashes in the over eager storm of my thoughts.

"Morning of the first thaw," I dictate with a facetious smile, giving me time to train for the spar, and the Haruspex the same advantage, "just before first light. Your place."

I assume, of course, that his place is where the mirror is, where Kahlua’s blue black scorpion watches the valley and the smooth, unfreezing waters of the lake with gemstone eyes. I will ascertain as much in the morrow, or whenever the stupid blizzard slows up outside – surely it won’t be hard to figure out.



[ OOC: It's okay! I know how life goes, and school is more important than a game. :P We don't cost you lots of money lololol ]