If the speedy arrival of the lightning mage fazed the blue-haired woman, she didn't show it beyond taking an instinctive step away. Now that Angelo stood close to her, he could see quite obviously her very diminutive stature; she couldn't have stood more than five-foot two. Nevertheless, the little lady treated him to a scowl.
“Cool it, sparky man,” she advised in a clipped accent, misplacing the emphasis on some of the words.
“The blade is not even sharp.” She drew the naked steel over her palm and held it up, bloodless, to prove it. Her face bore poorly-veiled disdain.
“I am only in Magnolia twenty minutes, and already I am threatened.” Out of nowhere, her displeasure evaporated into worriment, and she sniffed as she unfurrowed her brow.
“I suppose it may have looked threatening...I am so sorry...!”Trinity's arrival appeared to pique her interest, and the woman spent a few seconds looking at the burning tip of her arrow, barely making a dent in Fleo's ice. She answered for Angelo when the question arose, her face suddenly flush as if scandalized by Trinity's question.
“He does not know me! We have not even met before today!” Her gaze suddenly hardened.
“Foolish girl! Your tiny arrow will not set this lady free. Are you even trying to save her?”Before another moment passed, Ariel had turned up on the scene. The woman observed angrily as she changed personalities in a flash and began to sear the ice with flame.
“Hey! Mood swings are my thing, you rotten copycat! Let me show you how real woman does it.” Walking forward, she purposefully and unhesitatingly held her sword in Ariel's cone of flames. Instantly the entire blade caught fire—no, it became fire, a saber of pure heat. The air around the group of wizards, thick with dark butterflies, now turned bright and hot as each insect adopted a burning coat. When the woman pointed her sword at the icy net, the butterflies swarmed it en masse, finishing the job that Trinity and Ariel had started by cutting through it with tiny, flaming wings.
Fleo Plector – a Magnolia Street
The whole thing came down in a torrent of slush, frigid water, metal netting, and sputtering dust mage. Fleo coughed a few times, panicked while she attempted to escape the net, and then stood up, her bandages sodden but otherwise undisturbed. Wet dust sloshed onto the pavement as she stretched.
“Wow! I really did miss, didn't I? I don't even recognize this part of town, even after all my morning runs.” She turned, full of joy, to the hooded stranger, who now bore the sweetest expression that one might ever see.
“Hey, thanks for your help! I couldn't hear what you guys were saying, but I could see you all through the ice. I'll be able to buy my friends a round later, but you just went and stuck yourself out for a random klutz like me!”“Oh, it is no problem at all! Let us be introduced, so that we too are friends!” She bounded forward and encased Fleo in a hug that the dust wizard merrily returned. Her sword abruptly extinguished itself, returning to normal steel, and the butterflies milling around resumed normalcy as well.
“I am called Annalise. The magic I use has no name. I do not remember my past. Who are you?”“Fleo Plector,” Fleo replied, stepping away from Annalise and wondering exactly how a wizard didn't know their own magic's name...or their own history, for that matter.
“Here we've got Angelo, Trinity, and and Ariel.” With her back to the newcomer, she indicated each guildmember in turn. When Ariel's name came around, Annalise's expression momentarily morphed from one of eager happiness to dire hatred and back again, before Fleo could see it.
“Hey, why don't you come back to the guild for a little while?” Fleo offered, spinning around to face Annalise once more. She found the outsider suddenly withdrawn, her arms wrapped around her body and her head hunched down, eyes staring at the floor. In a small voice, Annalise said,
“R-r-really? ...Thank you. I hope I did not disturb you...”Nero – Dragon Fang Guild Hall
Faced with the guild master himself, Nero adopted a rigid pose, his hands on his hips. He laughed oddly, flatly saying each word rather than feeling them.
“Hah hah hah! ...No. Testing phase is all done. The Law of Manifestation is ready for the free market! But as much as it pains me to tell it, I'm not here to grant your deepest, most longed-for wishes, or even to make your dreams come true! My young friend is blighted by motion sickness, and neither of us have eaten since this morning, or slept in a real bed for days! And this time I'm not joking. Surely you have someone who can help us, oh rusty-haired Saint?” He beseeched, his piteous image only lacking poppy-dog eyes, thanks to his constant squint.
