[flower dance]

[pieta_au_lait]

[outside the Chapel at sunset, Robin is setting out a very large circle of picked flowers on the ground; once her work is done, she steps back to survey the design -- and suddenly, the wind picks up, and flower petals all burst into the air, floating around in a hazy dance and probably landing in your hair.]

... pretty.

((Derping out for the

Comments

[moralfixation]

Ah...

[pieta_au_lait]

[flutter flutter]

[moralfixation]

*Claps-...before getting distracted by plucking a petal out of his hair and examining it*

[pieta_au_lait]

[it is pink]

[moralfixation]

Was that you?

[pieta_au_lait]

I put the flowers there, yes.

[moralfixation]

Did you make them dance though? If I may ask.

[pieta_au_lait]

[shakes her head]

No, I don't think so. This isn't my Craft... not really.

[moralfixation]

Craft?

[pieta_au_lait]

I guess you could also call it "magic".

[moralfixation]

Would you mind telling me more about it?

[pieta_au_lait]

My Craft, or this?

[gestures to the flowers]

[moralfixation]

Your Craft, please!

[pieta_au_lait]

It's fire.

[moralfixation]

How did you learn it? And what can you do with fire exactly? Have you found it to be useful in camp?

[pieta_au_lait]

I was born with it.