Beware Birds Of A Feather [M] {Sanctified!}

[HeartOfFlame]

@SanctifiedSavage

Be thee fairly warned.

Night falls over the foothills of the Kilanthro Mountains like a shroud. Dark, hazy clouds hang in the sky, blocking what little light might have been provided by a wan moon, sickly and pale. Kanimir's breath frosts in front of his face, ghostly in the chill wind, and he tugs his coat slightly closer around his frame. He's lost feeling in his toes, tough and hardy boots of leather perhaps not best suited to the snow crunching underfoot, and he wraps his free arm back around his torso to keep his coat close. His other hand is held up in front of him, sparks and cracks of red and gold bouncing around in his palm and between his fingers as a source of light in the cloying darkness.

He had hoped to make better time, reach the foothills before dusk. But, as usual, circumstances had changed, they had been slightly waylaid, and those precious hours that should have been put into the journey were lost. It's not the first time he's made this particular climb in the dark, nor does he doubt it will not be the last, but he can't deny he feels poorly for his companion. Glancing back, he half turns to illuminate her, sparks flaring brighter in an ever so tightly controlled effort to add a little more light to their path. At the very least, he had managed to convince Keithia to actually acquire more than an oversized shirt before this particular leg of their journey, quite certain that, nature nymph or no, she would be frostbitten and hypothermic before they even made it to Rienna if she didn't.

Satisfied that she was still a few paces behind him, if looking slightly miserable, he turns back ahead, squinting through the darkness and snuffing the magic in his palm for a moment when his eyes catch the faintest outline - there. Lights twinkle in the distance, and he lets out a relieved huff of air, adjusting his bag straps across his chest and turning back towards Keithia.

"Almost there." He says, voice almost lost in the wind wailing gently around them, and pushes his chilled body forwards, snow crunching underfoot in a way that is quietly satisfying. The village is less than twenty furlongs away, and the prospect of a hot bath and a tankard of something strong to warm his innards is motivation enough to push his chilled limbs forwards once more.

Perhaps, tomorrow, he might look at buying them both some furs. Again. He really should stop loosing his travelling apparel during the interim between countries. Then again, it's not like he needs furs in Adela, and his likes to travel light.

The village draws ever closer, twinkling lights drawing them on like beacons in the dark.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia had never known a cold like this. Her life had been sun and tropical humidity, then the heat of Connlaoth. The further north they went, something frigid and old carried on the wind. It was like the ground beneath her started to grow still and silent. Not dead, certainly not, but it wasn't the same electric life that Keithia knew and loved.

Suffice it to say, she hated the cold. Not only did it mean she had to wear far more clothes than she ever wanted to, but her connection to the land around her felt... muted. Quiet. There, but not something she could really feel. Like trying to touch someone through layers of cloth, or hear someone even though there was cotton stuffed in her ears. The awareness was real, and she was comforted in a way, but made all the more annoyed because of how close, but detached it all really was.

Regardless, Keithia dutifully followed her friend and savior into the cold. Her eyes were squinted against the wind and she was certain her toes and fingers were numb. Fire. She would demand a fire. It didn't matter she was as bundled as she was, with her long hair wrapped around her lower face like a scarf.

It was just cold.

She didn't respond to his nearly lost to the wind almost there. People, and their settlements, left a stain on the land that Keithia could feel. If the earth was quiet, cold, and still, mortal towns bubbled with stink. The sort that lingered in her nose no matter what she did, until she was well and truly away. It didn't matter that the wind moaned around her. The closer they got, the more her stomach turned. Keithia would, and could, endure. She'd been a slave for a long time, and already torn from her home. Mortal filth could be tolerated, especially if it meant warmth and fire.

[HeartOfFlame]

They push on, plowing through the thin layer of snow underfoot and fighting against the wind with every step. Soon, the lights grow to more than distant orbs, the glow of them spreading out into the surrounding area, and Kanimir lets the sparks of light in his hand die once and for all. The wooden pike fences rise up in front of him and he veers towards the entrance to the village proper, glancing back again to ensure Keithia is still on his tail.

There's a slight reprieve from the wind amongst the low, squat houses, enough that Kanimir knocks his hood back and lets the breeze play havoc through his hair. It's refreshing, the air crisp and cold through his lungs as he inhales deeply before pushing on for the largest building in the entire village. A simple wooden sign hangs above the door, carved lettering invisible in the hazy glow and shadows, and Kanimir doesn't waste more than a second squinting up at it before finding the door handle and pushing his way inside.

Immediately, warmth washes over him, the kind only produced by a crush of living bodies in the same room, and he breathes in the meaty smell of man and ale. Wrinkling his nose, he scans the full tavern, aware of the numerous eyes on him but simultaneously ignoring them. He busies himself pulling off his damp, snow crusted coat, shivering as his cold flesh starts to warm up in the toasty warmth of the great indoors. In a matter of moments, the regular patrons go about their business, and Kanimir scans the crowd once again for a table. Regrettably, the corners have already been filled, and he clicks his tongue against his teeth before choosing a mostly uninhabited table close to the fire.

Without even really thinking about it, he drapes his coat over his arm and reaches back for Keithia's hand, her cold fingers sliding through his mostly gloved ones and settling neatly inside his palm. He crosses the room with an ease born of practice and slides into one of four empty seats around the circular table, directly across from the lone man already seated there. He glances up at them, something both wary and curious in his gaze, and Kanimir flashes a winning smile, idly wondering how much dried jerky is stuck in his teeth.

"Don't mind us."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Another time, another place, Keithia might've been hesitant to wander into a tavern she didn't know. Exposure to more and more places where mortals gathered was making it... easier. While she wouldn't say she was curious – as that implied an interest – she didn't want to be entirely ignorant as she had been before. If something were to happen and Keithia became separated or alone once more, she wanted to have a basic understanding of the world around her.

Even if the world happened to be ugly.

Her eyes remained narrowed as they pushed into what she guessed to be a tavern or inn. Her nose crinkled at the smell, but the expression didn't last and was adequately hidden by her scarf of hair. No one was looking at her face, anyway. The slender, bone-white horns that rose from her ink-black hair drew more looks.

Something Keithia was both used to and easily ignored.

Her hand fit neatly in his and she followed, her eyes fixed longingly on the fire and not much else. Individual people didn't hold much interest for her, especially when Kanimir was around. There didn't seem to be a need to be so vigilant. He took care of her in the cities, she took care of him in the forests. It seemed a fair trade.

It wasn't until they sat down and she was facing one in particular that her attention shifted. Keithia adjusted her too-big coat, drew her legs up into it, and watched the man across from them with the sort of apathy a cat might an empty cup. He was furniture. A prop. A talking one, she supposed.

The man's attention, however brief on Keithia and her horns, was drawn more so to Kanimir. It was more than just idle interest, or so Keithia thought.

"No minding at all. Where you traveling from?" He had an accent Keithia couldn't place, that felt rough and sandy and familiar, but most humans tended to sound the same to her.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir's eyes narrow ever so slightly, the way the man's eyes hone in on him both familiar and enough to make him wary. He can't quite place the accent, but it, too, seems familiar. He settles himself properly into his seat, taking his time dropping his coat underneath the table and following it with their -mostly empty - provision bags. He takes a fleeting glance over the man as he does; he's not much to look at. Average. It would take less than a second to slit his throat and be done with it.

He leans back in his chair, at ease, and smiles, arms folded over his chest.

"Uthlyn." He purrs, his usual La'Marri lilt layered on perhaps a little thick. He makes no move to indicate it, his gaze unwavering and relaxed as he lazily scans the crowd for the tavern keep or a maid. What he wouldn't give for a hot meal right about now. He glances at Keithia out of the corner of his eye and barely smothers a snort when he sees her still all bundled up in her coat, using it like a blanket now.

A few heads were still turned in their direction, the village folk no doubt gossiping about the exotic creature that just wandered into their inn. Kanimir's next glance around is icy and sharp as cut glass, boring into more than a few hungry faces with a pleasant smile that only thinly hides the sharp teeth behind. Most heads turn back to their meals, and he settles in a self-satisfied way.

"And yourself?" He asks of their table companion, raising an eyebrow blithely. "You don't sound the villager type."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

She'd have wandered off to the fire, if her toes weren't so cold. Wrapped in thick furred leather, it didn't seem she could get warm enough. That feeling of just being cold after being out in such a thing. Keithia decided she was a warmer climate nymph.

Since she didn't care about the mortal across the table, she subtly leaned against Kanimir for added warmth while her dark gaze turned to the fire. Enjoying the sight of it even if she wasn't seated directly next to it.

The man across from them was certainly not dressed as one of the villagers, though they were all layered in leathers and furs. It was too cold not to be. But the cut of his clothes was a bit too neat, and certainly foreign. He also had that cleaner look about him. Clean cut, well tended clothes. The villagers here lived a harder life and didn't have the spare coin or time to be bothered with such things.

Kanimir's sharp look kept the local's attention mostly on their tables.

Their new 'friend' grunted his response, an acknowledgement, before nodding a little. "Passing through, on my way farther north. I'm a pelt trader." He gestured with an elbow to a furred pack next to him, on the ground. "Returning to hunt. Though the wind and incoming storm has put me up for the night."

Moments later, an older woman with grey running through her brown hair and a plain dress stopped by the table. She wordlessly set a tankard in front of the man before glancing at Kanimir. She looked tired, but offered him a smile that reached her pale green eyes. "What can I getcha?"

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir's gaze snaps briefly to the man's pack before fixing back on his face. He nods along, a frown touching his brow as he hears of potential delays to their travel plans. A rough breath somewhere close to a sigh escapes him and he drags a hand through his messy, tangled hair. He's aware of Keithia leaning against him and his arm drapes over the back of her chair lazily.

"How inconvenient." He mutters. He had known the storm they were moving towards might be clinging to the passes, but had hoped otherwise. He itches to be free of Connloath and it's bothersome restrictions, not that they affect him most days, but still. It's the fact that they might. He has to be aware of the fact magic is outlawed if only to avoid having to deal with the inevitable backlash of someone witnessing him performing his Rivening. Of course, most often the people who witness his magic are either clients, or victims, neither of which are particularly prone to talking about him.

He glances up as the harried maid appears at his side, flashing a sweet grin and nudging Keithia's shoulder with the hand behind her back to get her attention.

"Your strongest ale, if you please, and whatever meat happens to be warmest." He looks to Keithia, prompting her to make her own decision. He's been trying to do more of that lately; get her to interact, engage, make her own decisions about what she wants and how. The clothes were a good start, though he supposes he did have to pressure her into getting them in the first place - though not very hard when he explained how cold it would be up here.

That thought in mind, he leans back into his seat and addresses their slightly...off, companion. He's still not sure what's wrong, here, but there's definitely something. That or he's just exhausted.

"I don't suppose you would be willing to cut a fellow traveller a deal?" He asks, eyeing the pack of furs again letting his lips pull back in a lopsided smile, "Hard to find good pelts at a reasonable price in the Valley at this time of year."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

She remained oblivious to the news of the storm, lost in the dance of the fire right up until Kanimir tapped her back into reality. Her attention shifted to him quickly, searching for why he'd bothered her, before she realized someone else was even here.

Another human, this one softer around the edges and looking at her expectantly. "Something to eat or drink?" the woman asked, sensing Keithia's confusion.

The nymph considered a moment, glancing back to Kanimir reflexively, before she murmured her answer. She hated talking to strangers. It always made her anxious – especially in town. It came easier out in the forest, when there were places she could run to. Where it was familiar. In town, surrounded by people, it felt too much like... well, like a suffocating cage. Her attention flitted back to Kanimir before she managed a soft answer, "Water." They had food. She wouldn't ask for more.

Keithia huddled more so in her large coat and brought her attention back to the fire, more so she didn't have to interact with the human any more than out of a desire to watch the flames. The maid smiled a little, not put out by the lack of conversation, before she nodded and slipped away to retrieve their requests.

Their new friend took a sip of his drink, apparently considering, before he glanced at Keithia and asked, "Depends on the size of pelt you're looking for. I don't have a lot of large ones with me, seeing as I'm heading back to the hunt. Just some small, left overs."

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir snorts softly, not bothering to muffle it this time, and lifts his free hand in a vague gesture that might be taken as 'Does it look like we need big ones?' He follows the man's gaze to Keithia briefly, still huddled against his side and staring longingly into the fire across the room. The warmth of the indoors has already thawed out his frozen bones, but he's also not a creature native to warm, even humid forests and nature.

He sighs softly and shakes his head, recalling how much coin he has stored in his satchel, still draped over his frame alongside the straps for his Chakram holster. Honestly, he can't remember the exact amount, but he's sure it will be enough to cover whatever this odd, foreign man wants for his leftover pelts. Admittedly, the last few jobs he's done haven't exactly been paid in coin, rather more material means, but still.

"Show me what you have and we'll go from there, I suppose." He says, drawing a foot up onto the edge of his chair and draping his free arm over his knee. He doesn't exactly trust this man, he trusts no one, really, but if his pelts are good - and cheap - then he isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It occurs to him that he doesn't know the hunter's name, but fair is only fair, after all. Kanimir is more than happy to refer to him as Hunter in his own mind, anyway.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

The trapper takes another drink, shifts in his seat to grab his bag, then pulls out a couple of rolled furs. They belong to smaller game – foxes or coons – though they've been skinned and cleaned neatly. He puts them on the table, between them two of them, before casually asking, "You heading to family, or away from? I can't exactly place what either of you... might be." He paused at the end, glancing between the two of them.

The maid returned with a tray of what they'd ordered – roast turkey and ale for Kanimir, and a pitcher of water and glass for Keithia. That, at least, drew her attention from the fire. She waited until the maid had placed their things on the table before she simply picked up the pitcher, requiring both of her hands to do so, and drinks straight from it.

The trapper watches her a moment before he settles in his seat.


@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir reaches for the nearest pelt, removing his hand from around Keithia's back and turning in his seat to unroll it a ways and give it a critical eye. His gaze lifts back to Hunter with a raised eyebrow as he speaks, lips curling into a sharp, toothy smile as he pauses. There's uncertainty in his eyes, something almost uncomfortable, and Kanimir enjoys it.

"Neither." He replies flatly, running a hand through the soft fur. He does like the rich, reddy colour of this particular piece, fading into a paler shade around the edges... "And does what we are really matter?" He tilts his head, bottom lip snagged between his teeth, before catching the approach of the maid from earlier in his peripheral.

Food, hot food, hasn't looked quite this good in a while, and he sets the pelt aside swiftly to dig into his meal. He ignores Hunter for the moment, checking on Keithia in the edge of his vision and chuffing softly when he sees her drinking straight from the pitcher. 'Because why not', he thinks, and chugs a fair portion of his own, decidedly more alcoholic, beverage. The ale burns a path down his gullet, bitter and acrid in the back off his mouth, and he sighs contentedly, leaning back into his seat with the mug cradled in hand.

He looks Hunter up and down, letting a small, considering smile pull at his lips. On most, it might have appeared warm, quietly friendly. On him, it probably just looks predatory. "You ask a lot of questions, Hunter. Is that a job requirement, or are you just a curious type?" He asks, running a finger around the rim of his mug and pulling his leg back up onto the chair edge.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Keithia down the entire content of the pitcher in one go. It has a faintly mortal, salty taste, but it's still water and she's all the happier for it. When the pitcher is empty, she lets out a soft, pleased sound and places it back on the table before reclaiming her hunkered place in her seat. Ignoring the rest of the world in favor of the fire. It was the only thing worth paying mind to, anyway. Besides Kanimir, and he was busy chatting up the odd stranger.

The trapper took a drink of his own, after having watched Keithia down hers, before rolling a shoulder to hide his bewilderment. "Color me curious, I suppose. Do a lot of traveling up along the mountains and I haven't seen anything of your sort." He leaned back in his seat, the ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose that means there's not many like you running about."

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

It's slightly unnerving to have his efforts prove fruitless. He tries not to let it show, but he feels his brows draw down slightly as Hunter just rolls right past his pointed words and sharp expression. He feels suddenly like walking on unstable ground, and his grip on his mug tightens slightly, teeth grinding as his jaw clenches.

But no, he's letting this man get to him. Strange as he may be, he's harmless. As weak and powerless as the next mortal to come along. Kanimir has yet to meet a being powerful enough to stand against his magic, and he very much doubts this peasant will be any different. Whatever his intentions, whatever reason there is for him to sit here so calmly while a being that reeks of power and danger sits not five feet away from him, it doesn't matter, because in the end, he'll turn to dust as surely as the burning logs in the crackling hearth.

He lets out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snort, taking another haughty draught from his ale before bothering to reply. "To be frank, I wouldn't have the slightest clue, but I suppose I like to think not." And it's true; he has no idea how many men his mother seduced in her life, or if she's even still alive. He doesn't particularly care, either, but he's not about to get into a long winded discussion about his unusual family with a man he's probably going to kill in the morning.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

The trapper watched Kanimir, as though searching for something in his words, before nodding a little and gesturing to the fur. "If you're interested, I'll part for three piece." He was referring to local currency, but he was quite curious what Kanimir would pass over. Every place had their own stamp, of course.

It'd also be nice to have something he'd owned for a time. It made dealing with people easier, later on.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

He glances back at the pelt, chewing his bottom lip in a more truthfully thoughtful way now. It's a good deal, surprisingly good, but he supposes the man is just trying to clear his stock before heading back to his hunting grounds. That or he's trying to pull something, but again, Kanimir doesn't care. He huffs softly to himself. He can just get his money back after the fact anyway, then the pelts will be free.

He nods, placing down his ale and reaching over to snag another roll from the table, unravelling it a ways. It's a coon this time, and he twists in his seat to hold it up against Keithia's hair. The black stripes are almost a perfect match for colour, and he smirks a little to himself as he turns back to Hunter and lays the the fur out next to the rich, red one he had selected earlier.

"You've got a deal." He says, reaching for his satchel and digging about for his coin pouch. It's a mess of whatever currency he's been paid over the last few weeks, or months if he's lucky, and he grabs the first six pieces that touch his hand. Miraculously, they're all the same print - Connlaothian - and he slides them across the table with a sickly sweet smile. "Enjoy."

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

The trapper pays a cursory look at the coins, like one might to make sure all six are there, before he simply puts them away in his bag. The man smiles, lifts his cup in a toast, and downs the rest of his drink. "Good business, then, friend. I hope they serve you well, in your travels." His cup is set down and he stretches, before he stands. "At that, though, I'm going to retire to the room I paid for. It was pleasant talking to you."

He does certainly seem in good spirits from the sale – quite pleased with himself – and dips a small nod toward Kanimir before he collects his bag and meanders through those cluttered around the tables to the stairs that lead upstairs, and to the rooms there.

Keithia notes his departure and yawns a little, before she looks to Kanimir. "You are done with the humans?" She's not exasperated, but curious. She glances around the room to see a lot of the patrons are winding down – excusing themselves or having quieter conversation. A fair few retire up the heavy wooden stairs. The maid remains at the bar, wiping it down.

"Can I sleep next to the fire?" She hadn't really grasped the concept that some rooms were 'public places'. They were all boxes to her with arbitrary functions.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

Kanimir watches him go with narrowed eyes, flexing his fingers as they itch vaguely, the familiar pull and throb of Rivening through his veins, like insects beneath the skin. 'Not yet,' he thinks quietly, pushing it down, 'Not until he shows me what he's really up to, if anything.' He sighs again, collecting their recent acquisitions from the table and throwing them on top of his other bags as he slides slightly further down into his seat and focuses on finishing his ale.

He rolls his head towards Keithia when she speaks, huffing air through his nose at the sleepy look about her. He's not surprised, given how exhausted he himself is, and he's accustomed to the constant travelling, fighting the elements. Honestly, Keithia's done well these last few weeks, better than he would have expected for someone who appears so frail. He smiles, glancing around the room and noting that the crowd has thinned quite dramatically from the hustle and bustle it was when they entered.

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I'll ask, but so long as I pay I don't imagine they care where we sleep." He replies, glancing over his shoulder at the maid and downing the last of his ale. He pats a hand on Keithia's coat covered shoulder and stands, stretching out his spine with a muted groan as his body protests. He crosses the room, plate and mug in hand, and deposits them on the edge of the bar, leaning one hip against the wooden surface and flashing that winning smile again.

"You mind if me and my companion camp out by your fire? She's not real great with the cold." He asks, using his best 'sweet young man' voice and tilting his head slightly, smile firmly affixed.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

Trusting his answer, she decides to wait rather than just... go over to the fire. It might've been something Keithia would've done when they first started traveling together, but she was learning to wait for his 'go ahead' in a lot of situations. Fully aware she didn't always do the correct thing. Apparently she stared at people a lot, too. Another reason she didn't like looking at people in general. Such a thing, in and of itself, could be insulting. Even if she didn't understand it.

Her eyes partially closed as he got up and walked away, unconcerned even if he wasn't expressly next to her.

The maid at the bar considered a moment before, with a tired smile, she shook her head a little. "I'm supposed to keep the main room as clear as possible..." She trails off, her attention wandering to the seemingly dozing Keithia. "I... do have a room, behind the kitchens. We usually have other servers stay there, but we recently had one quit. It's right up against the stoves so, it's warm. I could let you sleep there. Though, it's not much of a room... I wouldn't charge you for it, in that case." She ended with a smile in Kanimir's direction. She was trying to be helpful, thinking they didn't have the funds for a room. She certainly didn't want to turn them out into the dark cold if it could be helped.

@HeartOfFlame

[HeartOfFlame]

A frown pulls at his expression for a moment before she continues, and he vaguely wonders when he started being bothered so much by what Keithia wants. He shakes it off, fixing the maid with a truely grateful smile and nodding graciously. "That would be wonderful, you have my thanks."

She's a kind woman, trying to help a pair of wayward souls, and he feels a tiny bit bad for taking advantage of that. But, hey, if she's offering, he's not going to rush into giving her his money. Every coin counts, and with gear to upkeep, clothing to replace, and goddamn boots that seem to need repairing ever more often these days, he needs as much of his coin as he can keep.

Giving the woman one last smile for posterity's sake, he turns and wanders back to Keithia. The main room is mostly empty now, and he pauses by the table to gaze into the fire as well. It really does look inviting, the perfect place to just curl up beside it and sleep for a solid few hours, but alas. He reaches down to collect their bags and new pelts, nudging the foot sticking out from underneath Keithia's coat as he does.

"Not quite by the fire, but the maid's given us permission to sleep by the kitchens. Won't be as warm, I know, but it's better than a cold bed. And it's free." Priorities, after all.

@SanctifiedSavage

[SanctifiedSavage]

The maid actually seems relieved that he accepted her offer, pleased she won't have to shoo him out into the cold and that she had a solution to a perceived problem. She waits behind the bar while he goes to collect Keithia.

When he approaches, her eyes open to narrow slits but it's not entirely certain she's fully awake or paying attention until he nudges her foot. She makes a grumbled sound of acknowledgement before she slowly, with a murmur, slides to her feet. "Warm sounds good," is all she manages while shuffling to be close to him. Drawn to exactly what she'd just mentioned – warmth. If she can't sleep damn near in the fire, any place warm is the next best thing.

The room the maid leads them to is just as she describes – not much of a room. It's a small storage closet where herbs are being kept, hanging from narrow shelves. The floor is mostly clear and it is quite warm. On the other side of one wall are stoves that are still lit to heat up food for breakfast.

Though it's a narrow space, it's enough for one person to lay comfortably – so enough for the pair of them given their size. She smiles a little. "I'll wake you in the morning." At that, she leaves them pair of them in the dark – the only light provided by flickering light through faint cracks in the wall.

Keithia stands in the doorway, her eyes considerably wider now that she's faced with a very tiny space. Fully alert. Despite it being warm, she doesn't enter. Her body is tense and her breathing is soft and slow. Like she's considering sleeping outside rather than close herself in the tiny, dark, human box. Because that's the very thought running quickly through her mind. Cold, vast, open sky is far more preferable...

@HeartOfFlame