[Dairine is sitting quietly at one of the fires, a frown on her face. A few days in and the young wizard still isn’t comfortable with the loss of her powers. Everything feels all wrong. Places in her mind where wizardry would be, should be, are now dull and hollow. Not to mention, the distinct loss of control that normally would be available to her. It’s unsettling to say the least.
So she’s distracting herself with the first thing that comes to mind -- poking at the fire with a long stick.]
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So she’s distracting herself with the first thing that comes to mind -- poking at the fire with a long stick.]