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Kho fared well enough before the Magister, but Radaam shouldn’t have been surprised; the Magister spoke to him like a family friend. He was shocked, however, to see [i]Khaemtir[/i] of all people lose his tongue. He’d only known the boy for the lesser part of an afternoon and still it was foreign and strange to see him so silent, staring at the Magister like a child before a mural. 

The Magister left little room for reply, and Radaam was still as a statue when he grabbed his cloak, eyes forward until he had a flaming feather thrust in his direction. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the white flame, but there was no choice but to take it; the Magister all but forced it into his hand. Holding it as gingerly as a thorned flower—though markedly moreso as he wasn’t confident [i]this[/i] flower wouldn’t flare up to consume him—he practically threw it at his tutelary the moment the Magister turned his back, Toruk catching it fearlessly in his mouth. 

[color=437D99]“You heard him,”[/color] Radaam ordered sharply, the extra bite in his words most likely there to disguise the trembling in his voice and fingers, [color=437D99]“take that to Zahra and deliver his message, then come [i]straight[/i] back to me.”[/color]

Toruk didn’t need to be told twice, slithering off with the Magister’s frightening gift with surprising speed. Radaam could only relax when the white flame blinked out of sight, and a hand rubbed behind his neck came back damp with cold sweat. Dammit, yet another way to make a fool of himself, and in front of a [i]Magister[/i] no less. Was his every insecurity intent on being dragged into the sun? And whose idea was it to give a child marred with burn scars a flaming feather as a gift?!

Oh, who was he kidding? She'd [i]love[/i] it. Not only would she be absolutely elated by the magic, but the girl was so nonchalant around fire Radaam swore she didn't even [i]remember[/i] her accident. No, it was just him, the grown man, who shrunk away from the torches on the walls—and the Pyromancers, apparently. Ugh. How learned and dignified he'd look making a wide berth around the Phoenixes in the Dijat. He could only pray that his actual aetheric prowess would justify his presence among the Sorcerers of the Heka, because his every other quality so far was falling pitifully short. 

Or, hey, maybe they'd expel him from their ranks. Did the Khenetai accept Heka rejects?

Either way, that was enough humiliation for the day. He offered Kho a stiff nod. [color=437D99]“Well, it was nice to meet you, Novitiate Bekenamun. Good luck with your studies, I’m sure we’ll meet again,”[/color] he bid his curt farewell, then turned to Khae. [color=437D99]“We should find our families before they leave,”[/color] he suggested, though he dove into the crowd without waiting for an answer. 
[right][sub][@Dead Cruiser][@Achronum][@Scribe of Thoth][/sub][/right]