He breathes a little easier as the fire lowers down, although it doesn’t disappear completely, so he keeps his slight grasp on the other’s life force. He’s inelegant with his power, unpracticed save for a few sessions. There are surprisingly few volunteers for this kind of thing, and Prime, though no genius, is smart enough to keep to himself and not exact his powers on random passers-by. He isn’t really sure what he’d do if the threat kept on, if the fire burned hotter. Maybe he could take enough to make him pass out. He doesn’t know how to measure out such things, though. Prime suddenly feels woefully unprepared for whatever this thing is, this boy with his fire and the markings that Prime’s seen before, and it’s like they’re performing some play that he didn’t learn the lines to.
But this worry is for naught, in the end, because the fire drops and Prime breaths deep, the air tasting only faintly of smoke. In return, he releases whatever grasp he had, and this is easier, this, he can maybe do.
“Oh,” he all he says when the stranger says I think I’m supposed to find something here and thought it might be you. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. What importance is he? Unless…
“Did Firion send you?” he asks. He hadn’t seen his father since he was old enough to strike out on his own, but maybe his father needed something from him. Prime suddenly hopes this is it, that he is needed somewhere, that he could be of importance, of use.
But the stranger – Fyr, he says his name is - has another question and Prime looks at him, still somewhat unsure what game is being playing.
“I’m Prime,” he says, “and what I did was…I just reached out and grabbed, For your life force. I thought I was in danger. It comes naturally – like your fire, I think.”
who protects the shadow better than the dark?
@Fyr