Jazelle’s wary gaze never left Priscilla, watching her expression as she felt the fabric Jazelle suspected was quite foreign to the girl. She met the Priscilla's gaze when she looked from the fabric. Jazelle cleared her throat awkwardly, her lips pulling downward at the first thing that came from the older girl’s mouth.
	“I grew up in a very, [i]very[/i] secluded village,” she told Priscilla when the girl paused, making the lie sound natural as she gave a shrug. “You’ve probably never even heard of it, it’s so far off the grid.”
	Jazelle nodded encouragingly as Priscilla answered her question, showing her understanding, glad when the older girl explained what the White Council was.
	So, it would seem that one of the most powerful magicians had rescued her. From a Necromancer. Who had wanted to--to [i]what,[/i] exactly? Her powers, if she even had any as Sunder had said, were neigh non-existent as far as she could tell. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought. Fidgeting absentmindedly with her knife inside the hoodie's muff, she let out a long sigh. Her brain was beginning to hurt, and the initial rush of adrenaline had begun to slowly fade, leaving a weariness in its wake. 
	“Just one," she began slowly a couple moments after Priscilla finished, sure it was a question that would only further arouse any suspicions the older girl might have. "Necromancers.” A shudder ran down her spine as the unnatural red eyes that would haunt her nightmares--or daydreams, she supposed, once she woke up--crossed her mind. “Can they...” how had Sunder phrased it? “[i]absorb[/i] magician’s powers even if they’re undeveloped? Like, never-even-known-they-existed type of underdeveloped?”