[CENTER][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220124/d9f1d8faa06cfe05abf125a557f8a9b3.png[/img][/CENTER]
[color=gray][sub][right][color=white][b]Location:[/b][/color] Uhladein, Eastern Marches
[/right][/sub][/color]
[hr]
Memories still too close, still just beneath the surface of her mind, Quinnlash felt them surging back, along with an intense and [i]personal[/i] anger. A furious noise halfway between a cough and a choke came out of Quinnlash's mouth. Her eye widened. Her muscles tightened. Before she could stop herself, she'd taken a half-step towards Galiel and her hand strayed reflexively back to rest on her cannon. And her clenched fist glowed suddenly, for just a moment, with a light like the sun before she snuffed the light out. The caldera of anger that lived at her core, burning just as bright as her ember, began to quake. How dare he. How dare he. [i]How dare he?[/i] 

[i]"[color=ffe63d]Don't you say a [b]goddamn[/b] [b]thing[/b] about her![/color]"[/i]

The words came out of her without warning, a strangled and aborted half-yell chopping and mangling her voice nearly to the point of incomprehensibility, and she needed to fight to stop herself from lunging forward and punching him out. She clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides, digging her fingernails into her palm to try and focus on something other than his stupid smug face. Deep down, deeper down than she could even recognize, a part of her—a part both fearful and fragile, one that she'd managed to convince herself was long, long gone—was absolutely [i]terrified[/i] of Ezlineia—of [i]mama[/i]—being disappointed in her. And that blade of fear axed through her, cutting straight into her seething, searing heart before she managed to rip it out and crush it down again.

So, she turned her back to Galiel, facing the crystal of the Hearthfire and walking forward as she reached behind herself and hacked her hair into something resembling her trademark braid. Was a bit messy, but it was at least recognizable, and it'd keep her hair out of her face, so all told, it was doing its job. Mission accomplished. Whipping it back behind her, she looked around between the young pyromancers, meeting their eyes in turn (though one wouldn't even look her in the eye at all, the spineless fucking coward). And then finally, voice dripping with scorn only barely restrained, "[color=ffe63d]Do [i]better[/i] next time.[/color]"

Then once more, foregoing the elevator—why even bother with it at this point—she reloaded her cannon and leapt into the shaft. She'd done her duty as a pyromancer. Protected them. Been the final line. Now that the nagging memory was silent, she couldn't care less what they did or what happened to them. Wasn't her job anymore, and she certainly wasn't going to spend more time around that fucker Galiel out of the kindness of her heart.

As she plummeted, the floor beneath her came into focus. The other Hunters would be back here soon. Good. People she could take it out on if she wanted. Maybe she could convince Freakshow to fight her. That might be fun. 

One last billowing blaze from her cannon's maw, one last burst of pyromancy just to make sure she didn't break something on landing, and she was on solid ground again. Facing the door, she planted Undying Light into the ground barrel end down and rested her elbow on it casually, waiting. Boiling inside that she'd need to see Galiel again to get their orders. [color=FF4D19][i]Be a good girl.[/i][/color] [i]Ugh.[/i] Was enough to make her sick.