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Nilamani
Pomrick Bloomsfield
Lysander’s gaze lingered on the strangers a moment longer, then he gave a shrug that seemed half dismissal, half amusement.
“They don’t look like any students I’ve ever seen. I’d wager they’re Anirians. And if they are—well, that explains it. Leave it to Anirians to make the room feel like someone left the door open in winter.”
His mouth bent into a crooked line that was almost a smile.
“Since we’re speaking of the unpleasant, Pomrick: tieflings are people, first. People whose ancestors either got cursed or bumped uglies with infernal things. It shows itself in small rebellions of the body: a horn where there should be none, a tail, hooves, skin the color of a bruise or a flame. Nothing too mysterious about it beyond the name.”
He cocked his head, listening to the exchange between the horned twins and the Anirians. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“They’ve just called one of the Anirians a woodland spirit. Charming. A woodland spirit with a drab attire and a bad haircut, perhaps.”
Pomrick Bloomsfield
Lysander’s gaze lingered on the strangers a moment longer, then he gave a shrug that seemed half dismissal, half amusement.
“They don’t look like any students I’ve ever seen. I’d wager they’re Anirians. And if they are—well, that explains it. Leave it to Anirians to make the room feel like someone left the door open in winter.”
His mouth bent into a crooked line that was almost a smile.
“Since we’re speaking of the unpleasant, Pomrick: tieflings are people, first. People whose ancestors either got cursed or bumped uglies with infernal things. It shows itself in small rebellions of the body: a horn where there should be none, a tail, hooves, skin the color of a bruise or a flame. Nothing too mysterious about it beyond the name.”
He cocked his head, listening to the exchange between the horned twins and the Anirians. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“They’ve just called one of the Anirians a woodland spirit. Charming. A woodland spirit with a drab attire and a bad haircut, perhaps.”
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