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Making New Friends (Attention Ling!)

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The targets were set nicely and Rory was ready to begin her 'practise session', consistenting, as a rule, of ways to blow things up. There were other ways of doing business, burning, slicing, imploding, and she used them all. One explosion may look the same as the next, but there were infinite variations between them. A little shift in the weave here, a slight touch there, and you had a completely refreshing and unique reaction, even if they did look the same to others.


The first time Rory lined up a row of effigies they had been constructed, rudely, of wood. To her thinking the idea was a good one, but it turns out that wood splinters. Badly. And as fun as it was lying about for hours and having Saline pull small wooden barbs out of those sorts of places, it was somewhat of an embarrassment all the same.


From that day onward, Rory constructed her own targets made from saidar. Now, rather than exploding, they whistled and dinged. In the beginning the lack of good, wholesome explosions made it kind of dull, but she soon realised that there were many different ways to strike her targets. She could make loud dings, quiet dings, hitting-a-pot-in-a-tin dings and hidden-under-six-feet-of-soil dings. Her undisputed favourite method was to see if she could strike with such precision that the target didn't get past 'duh.' She knew a few sisters like that.


Rory was not strong when compared to her sisters, not even close. So she opted to hone those skills she already possessed. She may never be able to scare people with her abilities, but she'd give it a bloody good go. Rory was a Green Sister. She was a weapon, that's what she did. Politics, well she loathed politics so that was a bad example. We'll try again. Reading, was fun but it was hobby, whenever Rory wished to 'study' to further her personal calling, she went about blowing things up. She dared to believe she was getting rather good at it.


Right now, as in this very second, Rory was giving merry hell to her constructed targets in the form of exploding balls of fire, crackling arcs of electricity and anything else that was guaranteed to make a lot of noise. The more noise, the more fun: standard child mentality. There was a little child in everyone, the difference was that in Rory that child was still getting out of bed in the morning and dressing for work with an absurd amount of enthusiasm.


Rory was whooping with that enthusiasm when she realised she was no longer alone.

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