Elayra looked Ghent over, making sure he was unscathed as he gawked at the black marks the magic had left. For a short moment, she thought he may have been frozen in place, but then he spoke.
	“That,” Elayra answered Ghent’s quiet question as she came to a full stand, her expression unchanging, “was apparently what happens when people neglect a world’s magic for too long. It’s more excitable, even when you don't command it right.”
	Her brows rose and her smile faltered when Ghent squinted at her. Had he hurt himself? Lost some of his vision in the aftermath of the spell-gone-wrong? But then he smiled, and she did not take him as someone who would be happy about going partially blind.
	She snorted once he finished speaking, but something going right for once had lightened her mood enough for her grin to turn into a condescending smirk instead of a scowl. Not bothering to go around the picnic table, she stepped nimbly onto the seat, and climbed over the table to the other side.
	She hopped down to the concrete, now trying to think of the last time anything had warranted a true smile. She shrugged, bushing the rather dismal thought aside. “That you used magic, of course. I mean, at least you’re not [i]completely[/i] useless,” her smirk widened, and she looked approvingly at a deep, smoldering indentation in the table she had hid behind. She nodded to it. “I’d call that impressive, considering it was supposed to make a shield.”
	Her attention snapped to her bow, her expression turning to a worried frown. “I swear, though,” she stepped to and snatched the weapon up, running a hand down its limbs as she inspected it, “if you’ve damaged this…” Her finger paused on a new black mark in the wood. She brought it closer to her face, scratched at it, then nodded, deeming it nothing more than a superficial mark.
	“Consider yourself lucky.” She twirled the bow slightly, and held it beside her. She raised her other hand, palm toward the ceiling, and muttered the focus word as she swept her hand slightly to the side, further aiding in directing the magic. Another shield shimmered into existence above her, only this time it was wide enough for two people to walk comfortably beneath.
	“We going, or what?” She jerked her head toward the rain-drenched streets, and headed out into the morning downpour. “By the way,” she looked to Ghent, waiting impatiently, if necessary, for him to follow, “what [i]is[/i] a ‘java,’ anyway?”