Awakening

[Morven]

There was something pretty satisfying in using the Power to hoik a man up in the air, especially after he’d just spent quite a lot of his breath explaining the manner of his strength. Not that Michael had been boastful at all. He was just spitting facts. But still, Morven enjoyed the moment.

Beyond the intensity of what she presumed to be concentration, there was no indication of anything he did. No glow. No sense of anything at all. But she was used to both things when observing Sören, and hadn’t expected to see anything to indicate whether he was reacting. That was about where her knowledge ended though. The north man was a cagey prick, for all that he once saved her life.

The cut was clean, like a sudden release of pressure.

Even prepared for something to happen, she blinked in surprise when it did. Threads spun anew before he had much chance to react, with more force than before; a little more testing in nature, but apparently no more difficult to circumvent now he knew what he was doing. Fired with competitiveness, she might have tried for a third had he not spoken, and she found herself laughing at the unlikely accusation instead, throaty and unabashed. “Aye, well, best behaviour, ye ken? Trying for a favourable first impression before you discover exactly who you signed yourself up to work with.”

“So you couldnae tell the strength? Guess the measuring doesn’t work so well against a woman.” Truthfully she’d never really considered strength at all, her own or another's, so much as the complex patterns needed to achieve whatever she intended. Most of her experience was in intricacy. Reaching out into the power until it burned didn’t seem like a good idea.

“I used what felt enough. Dinae see anything of what you did. Dinae feel anything either, apart from the cut. The threads bounced back at me. How’d you know where to cut?” She paused, brows raised, and grinned. “And just so you know, Vellas, I usually expect dinner before I let a man tie me up.”