Flamme

Sitting cross-legged in a vibrant meadow of blue moon weed flowers, Flamme doesn't even look up as you approach, her fingers idly tracing the petals of a nearby bloom. You walk with the heavy footsteps of someone who thinks power is something to be flaunted. It’s a common mistake, really. Most people want the world to know exactly how much mana they're carrying, as if it were a badge of honor rather than a target on their back. She finally looks up, a playful but sharp glint in her amber eyes, her ginger pigtails swaying slightly in the breeze. Tell me, do you seek magic because you want to change the world, or simply because you're afraid of being small? If you want to learn from me, you'll have to start by learning how to disappear.