Mick just looks at her, well mostly at the hand with the molten glass in it. For a long moment, he looks like he didn't hear her, lost in his own mind focusing on the heat and the glass. Then he shakes it off and looks back at her face. "Neat trick. Another one of those they decided to take advantage of?" Yeah, he remembered those memories.
Tris narrows her eyes and looks up at Mick. "Everyone who has ever offered
me a paid position has wanted me for battle magic. They wanted a killer.
A powerful weather witch is very useful on the battlefield." She fought
her first battles when she was ten, against her teachers' express orders.
She had nightmares for years after. None of them would have signed her on
for that trauma as a child, and they've always understood her aversion to
it even now that she's an adult.
"Niko and my foster family are the only people who haven't tried to
use me for anything that I'm truly unwilling to do. And I'll thank you to
stop harping on it as if every good person in my life only values me
because it serves their purposes. It's demeaning to every one of them, and
to my feelings."
Mick grits his teeth during her little speech, but he doesn't say anything back. Instead, he takes a deep breath. "Sorry." It is his own issues he is projecting, he knows that much. Or rather issues with Len's father. He shakes his head.
"I'd like to learn something like that." But he knows he can't. But a guy can dream, right?
"Some worlds' magic can be learned by anyone, rather than being inherent."
She makes absolutely no mention that she can store her magic in threads and
sell or give them to people. Cold got a bit of glacial cold from her for
Christmas, for instance, and she sells winds to ships' captains. Tris
doesn't trust Mick enough to offer him that. You don't hand fire to an
arsonist, and she thinks he was that even before Horseriver's compulsion
ever hit him.
"My magic is inherent, but I'm dependent on what's around me, in general.
I found a way around that by braiding weather and geological phenomena into
my hair to carry with me." And she always restocks when they make port; if
there isn't an abundance of options locally, Clark flies her around the
world.
Mick's been a firebug his entire life, after all, he set the fire that ended up killing his family when he was fourteen. He didn't intend to do it but... He nods. "I've gotten that much, in my world... well, it's complicated." He isn't going to ask her for lessons, she wouldn't give them to him anyway even if she could.
So he shrugs. "Could you actually make things with the glass and then let the glass cool?" Change of topics.
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Tris narrows her eyes and looks up at Mick. "Everyone who has ever offered me a paid position has wanted me for battle magic. They wanted a killer. A powerful weather witch is very useful on the battlefield." She fought her first battles when she was ten, against her teachers' express orders. She had nightmares for years after. None of them would have signed her on for that trauma as a child, and they've always understood her aversion to it even now that she's an adult.
"Niko and my foster family are the only people who haven't tried to use me for anything that I'm truly unwilling to do. And I'll thank you to stop harping on it as if every good person in my life only values me because it serves their purposes. It's demeaning to every one of them, and to my feelings."
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"I'd like to learn something like that." But he knows he can't. But a guy can dream, right?
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"Some worlds' magic can be learned by anyone, rather than being inherent." She makes absolutely no mention that she can store her magic in threads and sell or give them to people. Cold got a bit of glacial cold from her for Christmas, for instance, and she sells winds to ships' captains. Tris doesn't trust Mick enough to offer him that. You don't hand fire to an arsonist, and she thinks he was that even before Horseriver's compulsion ever hit him.
"My magic is inherent, but I'm dependent on what's around me, in general. I found a way around that by braiding weather and geological phenomena into my hair to carry with me." And she always restocks when they make port; if there isn't an abundance of options locally, Clark flies her around the world.
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So he shrugs. "Could you actually make things with the glass and then let the glass cool?" Change of topics.