Eyes wide and with a gleeful and perhaps slightly infuriating grin on her bright little face, Cinder watched the male Drygan's face change shades - from surprised to defiant, then, to her amusement, to embarassment, and finally to surly indifference. Cinder decided she liked him already, probably due to the fact that he didn't seem to be taking to her all that enthusiasticaly. Her better conscience was telling her that these two were Drygans, and Drygans were powerful. Her slightly-less-than-better conscience, however, couldn't care less.
Cinder had been turning cartwheels in the center of the flames. She was happy, she was free, and, well, cartwheels seemed quite appropriate. However, she paused in mid-turn when the question of her edibility came up. Eat her? Her high-pitched voice came through the flames again. "Eat me? Well, you two seem like such friendly types!" She tumbled back so she was the right way up. "But no, mister Drygan, attempting to eat me for dinner is not the way to get rid of me. I assure you, it's not that easy." So they were hungry, huh? They'd better not ask her to do any cooking.
But now the female Drygan was addressing her. Cinder spun around in a little circle, and, suddenly waxing conversational, sat down, cross-legged in genie style, and floated like that in the fire's heart. Subtly, she paled the colour if the flames so that they could see her better. She really should learn their names, she supposed. Referring to them as 'male' and 'female' Drygan was going to get tiresome. She took the opportunity to introduce herself.
"Me? I am the absolutely splendid, ravishingly glamorous, highly intelligent, brilliantly witty and all-round scintillatingly interesting fire-sprite they call Cinder." She was, of course, talking as if she assumed they already knew what a fire-sprite was. This she tended to do.
"What I am not is a kitchen-hand, pocket cigar-lighter, lantern, hearth-faerie, or, believe it or not, magician's assistant. Although there has been some confusion concerning that lately, I must admit." She announced all this with a bright smile on her face. Well, this was Cinder talking, and she did everything with flair.
That aside, however scintillatingly interesting the sprite might have been, what she would have looked like to Ra'rin was this. In the center of the fire was a hand-span tall pixie-like creature, dressed in a soot-grey dress that was mostly rags. Her long hair was, predictably, firey red, making a contrast with her skin, which was either darker naturally or had been greyed by soot, but which had not been marked by age. She had two tattered grey wings, which were perhaps like a moth's, not beautiful, but seemingly decorative, as she wasn't using them for levitation. They looked in one place like they had been slashed by a kitchen knife, and Cinder used them to gesture with, like a person would with their hands. This rag-doll faerie peered out from the fire with two beady, shining red eyes.
Currently oblivious to any confusion she may have been creating, Cinder was busy being friendly. "And yourselves?"
