Seedling 11
I admit.
I have grown arrogant.
As a Mana Tree my manipulation of mana reaches the level of a Picasso or a Rembrandt. I was sure I was unrivalled under the heavens, perhaps even the universe.
Tevril’s father has shown me the depth of the ocean of mediocrity I currently swim in.
There is nothing quite like almost dying.
The sensation of your life bleeding out into the uncaring cosmos, consciousness darkening, it is completely and utterly horrifying.
Since I have already experienced this once, I of course have no desire to do so again.
So how did I almost approach the line of life and death again you ask?
Oh, that’s easy to answer.
I mistakenly attacked a desperate father searching for his daughter.
If it weren’t for the fact that Beast Kin, especially the canin foximus type variety have an amazing sense of smell...
Things might have gone worse.
I might be suffering another Regrowth right about now.
The poor father though, he’s currently suffering something along the lines of the Spanish Inquisition.
“The hell were you doing trying to kill my Guardian Angel, Papa?”
“Uh…”
“Why did it take you almost six years to find me, Papa?”
“Um…”
“Say something dammit!”
Tevril, brilliant mage, daughter of a loving family, Spanish Inquisitor(Side Job) it has a nice flowing ring to it, don’t you agree?
“Your father is nice. I mean, except for attempting to kill me. Losing 85% of my mana in a single strike against my Flameshield is terrifying, Tevril.” I whisper into a small flame placed inside her ear. It doesn’t transmit heat only sound, one of my better inventional uses of mana.
“It’s not my fault I didn’t recognize you sweetling, you’ve had a rather extreme set of changes!”
Poor father, he should understand that logic simply won’t work against an enraged woman.
“Changes you say? Do. Tell.”
Don’t fall for the obvious bait, Mr. Father!
Thwack!
Pop!
Smack!
This man is hopeless…
