04-16-2018, 03:51 PM
Instinct brought familiar threads to her aid as she flinched back.
She had burned in her old home, but had no scars. And she had cradled Ekene at the epicentre of an explosion in the hospital, but suffered no wounds.
Natalie understood a little more of how she did it this time around, though the power slipped away quickly after that. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, the anxiety from the heat making her feel sick, though for all the world she presented as calm and detached a mask as always.
The flame had gone now, not of her doing.
"No."
At least, she felt no new pain to join her existing injuries. A grim half-smile flickered the corner of her lips. The last time she had meddled with the thread she now understood to be fire, the weave had snapped back so hard she'd smacked her head against the wall unconscious. So it could have been worse. She tucked her hair from her face, the only indication she had been moved at all by the accident. The acrid stench of burning turned her stomach though. Marcus looked singed, but at least not hurt.
"An apology isn't necessary. I understood there might be a risk -- we already discussed that there are differences between our powers."
He seemed genuinely concerned, but it grated anyway; too close to the pedestal she so often found herself gingerly placed on. It only ever fuelled her recklessness.
Her palm outstretched, no permission sought this time. It took more effort the second try, perhaps because of the way the power had just wrenched from her grip. She thought of the pattern that had lit up her father's office, divorced it from the desperate emotions that had driven her back then. Minimised the effect. nudged it to the shape she wanted. Confidant. Undeterred. Her lungs filled and emptied heavily before the flame danced above her hand. She tilted her head in consideration before extinguishing it, content at least to have proved to herself her own capability.
Then abruptly flipped the subject. "Do you train the other men Nikolai Brandon has assembled?"
She had burned in her old home, but had no scars. And she had cradled Ekene at the epicentre of an explosion in the hospital, but suffered no wounds.
Natalie understood a little more of how she did it this time around, though the power slipped away quickly after that. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, the anxiety from the heat making her feel sick, though for all the world she presented as calm and detached a mask as always.
The flame had gone now, not of her doing.
"No."
At least, she felt no new pain to join her existing injuries. A grim half-smile flickered the corner of her lips. The last time she had meddled with the thread she now understood to be fire, the weave had snapped back so hard she'd smacked her head against the wall unconscious. So it could have been worse. She tucked her hair from her face, the only indication she had been moved at all by the accident. The acrid stench of burning turned her stomach though. Marcus looked singed, but at least not hurt.
"An apology isn't necessary. I understood there might be a risk -- we already discussed that there are differences between our powers."
He seemed genuinely concerned, but it grated anyway; too close to the pedestal she so often found herself gingerly placed on. It only ever fuelled her recklessness.
Her palm outstretched, no permission sought this time. It took more effort the second try, perhaps because of the way the power had just wrenched from her grip. She thought of the pattern that had lit up her father's office, divorced it from the desperate emotions that had driven her back then. Minimised the effect. nudged it to the shape she wanted. Confidant. Undeterred. Her lungs filled and emptied heavily before the flame danced above her hand. She tilted her head in consideration before extinguishing it, content at least to have proved to herself her own capability.
Then abruptly flipped the subject. "Do you train the other men Nikolai Brandon has assembled?"