Emberwood pretty in punk

"lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones"

[size=small]He was right in one thing at least.
Maera did not like waiting around -- her patience, since she had been an even smaller child had been pretty limited and as she got older, her fiery spirit became more volatile. Though the angst with which she talked to him was not real, she did really want to fight him. She wanted to fight anyone, and everyone all at once.
As if the endless bottled feelings in her heart weren't enough, the young Sveijarn wanted to fuck the world with her teenage antics.

A rasp of her throat was all he recieved as he finally agreed to play along, admitting that he was scared. Well you should be, she thought, after all, of all the things that had gone wrong in her life they all shared a common factor --her. Maybe it was her that ignited everything she touched; at the slightest provokation she combusted the world around her into ashes.
Maybe she was really flammable.
And now, as he jokingly (but still!) accused her of having some sort of mental disease, he covered himself in gasoline.

"Shut up and fight me" she barked with her now not-so meatball of a nose wriggling impatiently. As she dismissed his joke with a crude snort and a dramatic roll of her eyes.
He had locked himself in the middle of the flames, and he was going to burn down to the ground.
And she'd be the one to do it.

With her lips curling back and her yet-oversized ears flattening against her skull she poised herself for attack, mirroring to close perfection the stance the fierce Amazon, Manauia, had taught her. This was the real test -- even if the fight wasn't supposed to be -- so she had to bring her A game.
This time she wouldn't let her eyes betray her.
With a stare glazed of mischief she locked eyes with the boy, a single message written within her hazel eyes.
Come at me bro. [/SIZE]