Pilfering The Past

[Yvonne]

Sweat trickled from Yvonne’s brow, rolling down from her cheek bone. Her steady gaze faltered in spite of how hard she tried to lock eyes with the pyromancer, lowering to the tree root at the fire fae’s feet. She struggled to lift her eyes again yet forced herself to do so, lifting her chin. The only thing she could do to appear unafraid.

Flames ravaged the fae’s hands, arms and shoulders - and seeing those burning appendages up close she began to imagine all the horrible misdeeds this one might accomplish with them. She shuddered with fear, unable to keep her trembling under control.

As the incendiary fae took a few bold steps forward Yvonne took two instinctual steps back. The slate-skinned dwarf’s lip curled in a snarl of annoyance, her silver eyes narrowing. Terror wracked her, her nerves shot. Personal space clearly wasn’t a social courtesy the vivid-winged adventurer cared to uphold.

“That-- that be close enough! Stay right there! Not another step!” Yvonne bid them, but with her will shaken she wouldn’t be able to stand her ground. Her fight or flight response had become difficult to dismiss as the pyromancer closed in.

“What’s a quivering ignoramus like you going to do to stop me? I go where I please. You don’t make the rules here,” Orange sneered, stepping closer again and prompting another step away from Yvonne. No longer could she hide Fenn behind her. She had to get away from the flames. Those detrimental, engulfing fires of sorcery. She feared them like no other elemental magic. She couldn’t stay her ground.

“Ye stay back or else!” Yvonne shouted, making a brave face - putting on a grand show, flaring her anger defensively. Though this mongrel had no bite to her bark. She knew it. The fae all around her knew it, cackling with glee and skittering nearer to enjoy the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. In social situations Yvy could be the most powerful, compelling and charismatic individual that you had ever had the pleasure of knowing, but… throw some witch-fire into the pot and she couldn’t maintain appearances for the life of her.

“--or else what!?” the sizzling sorcerer finished for her, raising her upturned palm and blowing glowing cinders and hot ash in Yvonne’s face. The bully wouldn’t back down.