Fire in My Soul

“Rough week, huh?” Anarah said, sitting down and resting her back on the same tree the harpy was leaned up against, “Or is this...a tribute? I guess? Either way, pass me that bottle.”

Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck. That’s a merperson. Not just a merperson, that’s the goddamned princess of the merpeople. Approaching her. Okay Anarah, be cool. Be cool and don’t mention Izzy for the love of God.

“Princess Miranda Vanderbilt, right? An honor to meet you,” Anarah said, giving a very awkward bow. “Did...you need anything? I make plenty of medicines and antidotes. High quality stuff.” Good job Anarah, keep talking, that’ll make you seem less suspicious. Idiot.

“Get away from that!” Anarah shouted, dropping from the tree she was lounging in while her potions brewed, “Until they’re done they’re extremely volatile, you’ll burn this whole forest down!”

After the panic subsided, Anarah looked at the intruder on her workspace, “Waaaait a second. You’re Dahlia, right? Izzy mentioned a giant blue chick that was nice to her.” He posture relaxed for a moment. If this person was alright with Izzy, then Anarah supposed she could try to be nice.

“For the last time, leave me alone!” The Slayer, or Aaravi, as she’d overheard some people calling her, was nothing if not persistent. A week ago someone had let slip that there was someone who could make health and mana potions in the woods and ever since then Anarah had been plagued by requests for supplies.