Great Haven - sup

> Do all Hiiri get trained to do that

Not, uh... really. Hiiri generally aren't geared for magical work. In fact, you could consider yourself quite lucky; you learned to throw sparks at a pretty early age with almost no effort, whereas most hiiri take years upon years to do that. Maya seems pretty adept, though... so you can only assume that torills are more naturally able.

Turning to your bag, you witness its broken state. Without the intact spacebending thread, its not as useful as it was, aside from storing small meals like you did before. That knife is way too big and cumbersome for you to just carry around, so you suppose you'll have to leave it be, and hopefully you'll figure out a new way to lug the thing. Of course, that's only if you remember to pick it up. As for the other part of your inventory... that... can stay where it is.

Check if victim survived.

Well, he has a pulse, which is good. You don't want to be charged with murder as well as possible theft. He's unconscious, though. Hopefully things will be a bit more calm around here.



Maya is quick to get back to her feet, evidently catching only a mild dose of your unexpected sparkshow. She tiptoes her way around to the sparsen's side, remaining cautious about the scene before her. It's pretty clear now that what you did wasn't normal to these guys; the sparsen even remarks, "There's no way a hiir could have done that."

>Lie like there's no tomorrow, to make yourself look more dangerous than you are.

You don't even skip a beat in taking advantage of their doubt. Still dizzy from the experience, you stand yourself as proudly as your wobbly legs will allow, and puff your chest to boast. "W-well, you can't know that for sure! You s-saw me do it with your own eyes! He almost hurt me..." You pause. Your throat grows parched as you think of the next thing to say "S-so just... just..."



They look like they're either worried or unconvinced. It's not really looking good, and your lack of confidence over the matter is crushing you. Your insecurity is making you deflate.

Tell the truth.

Feeling self-defeated, you pull your ears over your eyes, hiding your face from embarrassment. "J-just... stay away from me. I can't control it. I-I'm... c-cursed..."

"Cursed?" Maya doesn't seem to buy that either, but... she at least has the decency to go along with it. "You poor little g-"



"You're cursed? No no no no, that doesn't sound good for business at all! I'll have the decency to take you into the capital, but as soon as we're through with out business with the authorities, you'll have to find your own way." Maya seems to have just silenced herself; she's looking pretty uncomfortable, and you can certainly say you are too. It feels like all those countless times you've been scolded by your elders, for things entirely out of control. The sort of thing that ultimately drove you away.

The driver goes on to ask, "What are the details of this curse of yours? The more we know, the more losses we can avoid." It sounds humiliating at first, but he continues. "...And, the closer we'll be to finding a cure for you." You feel a little flutter of hope fly within your chest.

But, where to begin? It's something you were accused of having since birth, apparently, but "curse" is really the only thing you've been able to call it. You hate superstition, but after living your whole life with it breathing down your neck, you can't deny that it's a very real possibility. It's been the blame for a great number of things, but the only things you could personally pin it down to were loud noises during raids, and sudden electric outbursts like the one you just gave. Between that, your satchel situation, and the unconscious Mort laying behind you, you're quite reasonably distressed. What can you even say or do?