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[color=gray][sub][right][color=white][b]Location:[/b][/color] Uhladein, Eastern Marches
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Quinnlash, by force of long, long habit, was snapped out of her distraction by a question about [i]pyromancy.[/i] Which was not exactly her favorite subject; it reminded her far too much of things she'd left behind. But still, something—maybe her massive venting of pyromancy in the hearthfire keep, the memories that had been gnawing on her mind, or Galiel's last few words getting under her skin—compelled her to answer. So she glanced back at the pink Hunter. Lexann, she thought, as she locked eyes—or, well, eye—with her. Her mouth was fixed into a scornful sneer, as it often was. But when she spoke, her voice, on the other hand, was [i]most[/i] unlike her. It carried none of the loud, angry vitriol that characterized "Quinnlash" so much of the time. Rather, it was quiet, level, and [i]deeply[/i] bitter.

"[color=ffe63d]Pyromancy has more limits than you think.[/color]"

She stared up at the dark, clouded sky, and a small, tightly-controlled flame leapt between her fingers. "[color=ffe63d]There's only so much energy in one person. Humans are finite, by definition; the Void is infinite. And finite versus infinite reaches a predictable, inevitable outcome. Which is why [i]we[/i] exist. We—Hunters—we're still finite in [i]theory[/i] if not normal [i]praxis[/i]. Just...less so. So the conclusion is less clear-cut and obvious.[/color]"

For the barest fraction of a fraction of a second, her face was writ with something like despair.

Then her hand snapped closed, and the flame vanished with it. Her brow creased into a thundercloud, and she mantled a scowl once again. [i]Stop it. Stop it! FUCKING STOP IT! You aren't [b]like[/b] that anymore! You are [b]better![/b][/i] 

"[color=ffe63d]Ugh! [i]Fuck![/i] Why am I even talking about—telling you about—[i][b]FUCK![/b][/i] It's not like [i]dumbasses[/i] like you can understand it anyway, so why am I even [i]BOTHERING?[/i][/color][i]"[/i]