[center] [img=http://s6.postimg.org/a69rjg31t/gggg.jpg] [/center] Through Melvin’s words, she found an eerie sense of understanding: the way he addressed his physicals features with absolute horror, the new view he’s shed on her eyes even when she had grown under the Sect’s name revered as if it was a deity. If they truly wanted to kill her, walking into a rotting cavern was the way to go. [i] I…have nothing to live for but the truth for now. No more lies. [/i] She thought, tying her horse to a nearby post after thanking it with a stroke. With a deep breath of the chilly night’s air, she looked up to the Smokey, starry sky. It showed signs of morning approaching in a few hours with a dim dash of yellow on the horizon. She emerged into the dark caravan behind Melvin, catching wind of his fire thauma show itself on his lit fingers. “You know…” She whispered softly, her breath hitting the dark elf’s shoulder. “Our thaumas clash.” A tiny stream of icey air wrapped around his finger, seeming to toy with the flame’s will to survive, depleting it of oxygen. Not until it left seconds later could the flame grow to it’s fullest measure. With a woosh, she pulled back her hood and pulled up her eye patch, blinking a couple times to let her eyes adjust to the dark. For the rest of the night, she listened full heartedly to Melvin’s tale. Although she was hooked from the beginning, a harsh glare took a while to melt into a stoic, confused gaze. There were many yawns she had to cover and times his voice had almost lulled her to sleep but she still had heard his past out. Eventually she had inserted a few sentence of her past, of how her parents hid her, taught her the tricks of the trade to living (where she also became highly experience in thievery), and sent her off so her elf-father could remain peacefully working with the sect he loved more than his family. She found she had the same questions as the dark elf- [i] where [/i] is Larcen, the inspiration for rebellion? When morning was close and Melvin had finished, she stood from an old chair that creaked it’s protest, facing Melvin with her lips etched into a straight line and her eyes seeming to search his face to complete her answer. “I hope you are not playing jokes to keep me sworn to silence…. I’d hate to be the person caught in a room with me if so.” Finally, she extends a hand to him. “ But….I may only know your story and not your name stranger (she cracks a smile at the oddity of lacking that detail), but after living under years of….pure obliviousness…. I ,Deimos, want to join your cause. ”