Kitra could walk, and faster than them both as she instructed them to follow her.
She had lead both Initiates to the barracks, or one of the many buildings set aside for Guard and Dreadlord alike.
The boys dumbly said they would wait by the door, and just as Rhid began to wonder if she had actually done a runner, the dark skinned Dread came back out with a pack slung over her shoulder. "I forgot something in that cellar. I need it back as proof of my imprisonment if I am to get to Vel Anir on my own."
And so the trio moved back to the cellar.
"How old are you?" Rhid asked. She had such a swagger to her, knew the ins and outs of the alleys, the private areas behind shops, and lead them on a route that kept them out of sight from anyone else.
"Twenty. Almost twenty one."
"So then you graduated just as the Revol---"
"No." She interrupted. "I graduated a year or two before that. Graduated at sixteen. The Proctors made me into a special and honed weapon where I was to steal the magic of my cohorts and perfect them... so if I were to meet any other magic wielders of the same strain of magic, I..." Kitra shrugged.
She did not need to finish her words, Rhidian could only guess at what they shaped Kitra to be. "So you're a mimic right? You mentioned that before... why aren't you mimicking mine or Silas' magic?"
"Because just touching that call of your magic tells me how destructive or intense it is. I cannot perceive what it is, but I know it is not power I will lean towards if I am in a bind."
"Huh..." It made sense to him. "Must be shit if you can't mimic magic when you need it."
She only shrugged, taking them back on a familiar path and the cellar a fair few feet away. "I learned to take on voices, body language, quirks, and even glean how one feels. As if I am the reflection in a mirror." Her lips moved, but it was Silas' voice that left her lips. Rhidian grimaced, unnerved by how accurate she had mimicked his friend's voice.
She had lead both Initiates to the barracks, or one of the many buildings set aside for Guard and Dreadlord alike.
The boys dumbly said they would wait by the door, and just as Rhid began to wonder if she had actually done a runner, the dark skinned Dread came back out with a pack slung over her shoulder. "I forgot something in that cellar. I need it back as proof of my imprisonment if I am to get to Vel Anir on my own."
And so the trio moved back to the cellar.
"How old are you?" Rhid asked. She had such a swagger to her, knew the ins and outs of the alleys, the private areas behind shops, and lead them on a route that kept them out of sight from anyone else.
"Twenty. Almost twenty one."
"So then you graduated just as the Revol---"
"No." She interrupted. "I graduated a year or two before that. Graduated at sixteen. The Proctors made me into a special and honed weapon where I was to steal the magic of my cohorts and perfect them... so if I were to meet any other magic wielders of the same strain of magic, I..." Kitra shrugged.
She did not need to finish her words, Rhidian could only guess at what they shaped Kitra to be. "So you're a mimic right? You mentioned that before... why aren't you mimicking mine or Silas' magic?"
"Because just touching that call of your magic tells me how destructive or intense it is. I cannot perceive what it is, but I know it is not power I will lean towards if I am in a bind."
"Huh..." It made sense to him. "Must be shit if you can't mimic magic when you need it."
She only shrugged, taking them back on a familiar path and the cellar a fair few feet away. "I learned to take on voices, body language, quirks, and even glean how one feels. As if I am the reflection in a mirror." Her lips moved, but it was Silas' voice that left her lips. Rhidian grimaced, unnerved by how accurate she had mimicked his friend's voice.