Conifer
Senior Member
She was easily distracted, content enough with the assurance that Avther thought himself unharmed. The fire had been out quickly and there had been enough other things between the robe and his skin that a burn seemed unlikely, and he was right. He would have noticed. She hadn’t seen him favoring any part of his body on their ride, either, so she settled back and let the conversation shift.
“I...suppose that makes some amount of sense,” Remin replies, taking another small spoonful of her food, processing what he said. Not thinking sounded impossible, if she found herself caught in the same scenario. She’d be dead on the ground. “...I wonder if that’s why your magic hasn’t made itself present in ways you’ve noticed on the battlefield. Dancing, at least the sort we were doing…” She trails off, humming slightly. “You were focusing on - thinking about - a lot, I mean. Probably. The people and the steps and the music and me. Maybe your magic...it could be used to you having a much narrower focus. It could have put out the fire, if you’d thought yourself in danger of it, but because your attention was wholly on Lord Vestat, and downing him…” She’s rambling, lost in the theory of it all. Probably uselessly, really, as she was not truly trained in magic or what caused it. She could just be entirely wrong, and likely was. But it was an interesting line of thinking to her.
“This all could be nothing, honestly. I don’t know.” She admitted. “But if your focus is on your enemy, there’s little time to panic over the danger you’re in, and little room for the magic to exist without putting you in more danger, as it would be a distraction. And especially if your magic didn’t exist before that mindset was ingrained into you…” She shrugs softly, scratching at the wood of the table.
“I...suppose that makes some amount of sense,” Remin replies, taking another small spoonful of her food, processing what he said. Not thinking sounded impossible, if she found herself caught in the same scenario. She’d be dead on the ground. “...I wonder if that’s why your magic hasn’t made itself present in ways you’ve noticed on the battlefield. Dancing, at least the sort we were doing…” She trails off, humming slightly. “You were focusing on - thinking about - a lot, I mean. Probably. The people and the steps and the music and me. Maybe your magic...it could be used to you having a much narrower focus. It could have put out the fire, if you’d thought yourself in danger of it, but because your attention was wholly on Lord Vestat, and downing him…” She’s rambling, lost in the theory of it all. Probably uselessly, really, as she was not truly trained in magic or what caused it. She could just be entirely wrong, and likely was. But it was an interesting line of thinking to her.
“This all could be nothing, honestly. I don’t know.” She admitted. “But if your focus is on your enemy, there’s little time to panic over the danger you’re in, and little room for the magic to exist without putting you in more danger, as it would be a distraction. And especially if your magic didn’t exist before that mindset was ingrained into you…” She shrugs softly, scratching at the wood of the table.