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[color=gray][sub][right][color=white][b]Location:[/b][/color] Uhladein, Eastern Marches
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[color=593FFF]“Save your fire for the next fight.”[/color] The blue-haired hunter sighed as she moved forward, not engaging really with the conversation before her, though a tinge of melancholy reverberated in her tone. [color=593FFF]“The only one who is truly dead is Zecimia.”[/color] 

Quinnlash had survived and had been the one who meddled in her dance. There was no doubt in Trantascilia’s mind. She almost wanted to admonish Quinn for her irritable behavior, but Trantascilia once again let it go. How many times had she crossed paths with the Midnosian? A fair amount, she supposed, though a more preferable number would be less. Her initial thought was to remark that she wished she had taken Zecimia’s place in avalon, but she didn’t say anything of the sort.

She moved forward, cleaning her spear of ash and blood as her ice turned to water in a flash before she looked up at the tower from which Quinn came.

[color=593FFF]“We can drink if you wish, but first we wait for Galeil.”[/color] She remarked to the pink-haired ldranti with a weary smile. [color=593FFF]“You did well. And so did the tiny one.”[/color]

Fianna and Quinn also fought well, but Fianna was not receptive to such words of encouragement or faith; and Quinn deserved nothing. A child coddled by ego and had no kindness within the cradle of their heartsoul. Perhaps Trantascilia resented her in the moment, or had always disliked her. But she had ways of making her know of her discontent that were different from the tactics of others. After all, Trantascilia was a brilliant tactician. As she thought these feelings her eyes would remain on high, waiting for any sign of the master pyromancer’s presence. He was taking his time.

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