Joy. That, as she understood, what a privilege elves were rarely afforded in the Starkhaven alienage. There was so often a shadow that hung over things. Joy was not pure joy that came with a blade swinging over one's neck, uncertain whether it would clear the flesh, rasp painfully, or simply slice through in one swoop.
"I never had the pleasure of meeting her,"
which is perhaps a statement so obvious that she need not ever state it, "but my father had a penchant for... pranks, I suppose you could say."
It had limited opportunities to manifest to the level of his imagination, she rather suspected, which was perhaps a blessing for her mother, the people of the alienage. Pranks too big or elaborate could catch attention; cleverness and knowing how to play tricks, that allowed stealth.
Perhaps Cerys Amsel was safer outside the Circle than most mages would be. Herian smiles, very slightly. "Thank you. Did she— do you think she was happy, in Hasmal?"
NO this is perfect also i know this is super light so no pressure to reply
"I never had the pleasure of meeting her,"
which is perhaps a statement so obvious that she need not ever state it, "but my father had a penchant for... pranks, I suppose you could say."
It had limited opportunities to manifest to the level of his imagination, she rather suspected, which was perhaps a blessing for her mother, the people of the alienage. Pranks too big or elaborate could catch attention; cleverness and knowing how to play tricks, that allowed stealth.
Perhaps Cerys Amsel was safer outside the Circle than most mages would be. Herian smiles, very slightly. "Thank you. Did she— do you think she was happy, in Hasmal?"