"You have the face of a coward."

Israfel had returned home to nothing but carnage. The Edge was being attacked by those from both the Basin and the Foothills, but the young Demi-Goddess could do nothing to help. She was too young to fight, too inexperienced in the battlefield... If she had been given the chance, however, the pale youth would join the fray in a heartbeat. Unlike the general populace of Helovia, Israfel still had her magic. It was something that couldn't be taken away from her, bestowed upon her by the will of the God of the Sun himself. In such dark times, both figuratively and literally, she knew that the power of her flames would be helpful.

Despite her magic and her eagerness to fight alongside her brethren, Israfel could only stand and do nothing, and have faith that the Qian would emerge victorious. She would wait, however, until the battle ended, and then move in to see if she could help. Perhaps it would only be aiding the wounded, but it was better than standing around and doing nothing.

It was while she waited, avoiding the clash of battle and the grunts of pain, the smell of sweat and blood and writhing bodies, that Israfel stumbled across the painted filly. Israfel was older, she could tell, with her frame more filled out and muscular, but not by much. Yet the look in the filly's eyes, the look of an immature coward... It was clear that she might be mentally older as well.

"You look like those Assassins," the pale filly stated scornfully, stepping through the dark trees with her gilded wings pulled close to her sides. Along her legs, flames licked and kissed at her golden markings, cascading the area in which she stepped in a warm, soothing glow. It wasn't often that she traveled without the comforting embrace of her fire. Isra's lips were turned downwards, vermillion eyes sharp as she cataloged the brown and white filly, analyzing this creature who called herself a member of the Edge... "Hiding in the shadows like cowards. Is it in your nature to ignore the plight of your family?"

Perhaps Israfel was being rude. Perhaps she wasn't. Honestly, the pale half-Goddess didn't care. Her patience was limited at the moment, her emotions strained and pulled apart with so much more than this filly could understand. The rift in time, the Gods disappearing, the war in the Edge... Her father still missing. Yes, Israfel had the right to be annoyed.

[ooc: Hope you don't mind Isra popping in. :D
@[Harmony] ]