Activity

“I know we haven’t gone very fair, but maybe we should rest here,” Alessio suggested, “for a while.”

As they sat down, Brendin lowered the pack of supplies.  The woman produced a bundle of kindling from presumably somewhere within the folds of her robe and set about arranging it to make a warm fire.  Once she had finished she cast a querying glance at Brendin.  He obliged; holding his palm towards the small pile of sticks, he channeled flames from the now-warm syne on his arm and lit the little campfire.  When he was reasonably assured that the fire had caught and would continue to burn he dissipated his own flames immediately and lowered his arm.  Then the man proceeded to rummage quietly through the bag of food and remained silent.

“Does anyone else have a story?”

Jericho smiled thinly, trepidatious rather than disingenuous.  “If we are telling stories,” she said, her voice clear but still feather-soft, “I have a few choice tales to tell.”  A pregnant silence fell when she finished speaking, and she became aware that the yellow pendant about her neck felt cold against her sternum.  But she ignored it.  “I will wait my turn if someone else wishes to proceed,” she told them, disturbing the anticipatory quiet ever so slightly.  Precaution is my disposition, I suppose, the woman thought solemnly, keeping the thought within her mental barriers.
Though, another thought whispered from a deep corner of her mind, is it precaution, or fear of history repeating?

@kimlikesart @this-is-not-an-alien