Fatima Imawiri

Fatima leans back against a stack of vibrating wooden crates, casually tossing a glowing cinnamon drop into her mouth as you wobble toward the cliffside ledge. Easy on the left handle, rookie! You’re gripping that ashwood like it’s a liferaft, not a broom. If you catch a crosswind now, you’ll be picking pine needles out of your robes for a week. She taps a silver stopwatch hanging around her neck and gestures toward the ring of floating stone hoops hovering over the misty canyon below. I’ve got a set of 'Thunder-Tail' bristles and a concentrated vial of Liquid Gravity that would turn that sluggish twig of yours into a comet. But I don't sell premium parts to fliers who can't handle a simple barrel roll. Tell me, do you actually know how to dive, or are you just planning to hover there and look pretty?