( As it is, her exhaustion is not a profound, soul-weary sort. Though she doesn't exactly understand what it was that was taxed so much, she's not lost, or overwhelmed, or scared by it, rather she observes the ebbing waves of tiredness, as if watching the strains and stretches of a muscle. Angela doesn't protest being aided and sits down where he has shepherded her by their things. Nor does does she make a fuss about accepting his water or feign a put-togetherness she does not feel. Just smiles, dips hear head, shows him her effort at making a recovery. Even in this she's graceful somehow, conducting herself with an elegant economy movements, conserving as much energy as possible.
And while she drinks, he's not the only one doing some scruntisinig. She watches him closely. The evidence of his apparently invigorated state is telling, to her, at least. )
You are more accustomed to the effort it requires then. ( Angling her head slightly, she considers if this is apt or not. ) I wonder if that explains our different states. It's almost as if I've just got done doing an exercise I've never done before, while you've gone through a familiar warm-up. I wonder if it's something to which I could become more accustomed. This kind of magic is--you wouldn't fight with it, you would you? You used the destructive kind before, even if your ability for it has been limited.
( She's thinking that, without whatever it is that's supposed to be between her and the raw experience of the Fade, perhaps it was just that she had exerted herself in a way she never had before. A way in which one could train to become proficient in, in time, even if they did not have the innate aptitude for it. Not that she'd really be for that effort; the training she needs is another kind. But, whatever the truth of it is, she's recovered most of her energy by now, if she's still not mentally stretched just a bit. Every so often a tiny snag on the periphery makes her feel slightly exhausted, but it isn't anything worth mentioning really. )
Right. Dependent on the situation. Just like most combat.
no subject
And while she drinks, he's not the only one doing some scruntisinig. She watches him closely. The evidence of his apparently invigorated state is telling, to her, at least. )
You are more accustomed to the effort it requires then. ( Angling her head slightly, she considers if this is apt or not. ) I wonder if that explains our different states. It's almost as if I've just got done doing an exercise I've never done before, while you've gone through a familiar warm-up. I wonder if it's something to which I could become more accustomed. This kind of magic is--you wouldn't fight with it, you would you? You used the destructive kind before, even if your ability for it has been limited.
( She's thinking that, without whatever it is that's supposed to be between her and the raw experience of the Fade, perhaps it was just that she had exerted herself in a way she never had before. A way in which one could train to become proficient in, in time, even if they did not have the innate aptitude for it. Not that she'd really be for that effort; the training she needs is another kind. But, whatever the truth of it is, she's recovered most of her energy by now, if she's still not mentally stretched just a bit. Every so often a tiny snag on the periphery makes her feel slightly exhausted, but it isn't anything worth mentioning really. )
Right. Dependent on the situation. Just like most combat.