The pale lion seemed so confident and assured of himself that Camellia's denial brought him amusement. Who was this family that he spoke of? Nesryn... a family of lions built who fires themselves? Camellia had heard many stories in her life, but never one like this. He certainly had her attention, and the healer studied him closely. She trailed after him as he went about his collecting. A subtle nod was given as he built his fire nest. Camellia was familiar with this concept. She'd even built something similar back in her cave - an intricate collection of kindling and tinder that would catch easily and receive the fire that she would precariously collect tonight. But she'd had no need for a fire nest here... Her plan had been to break off a branch once the tree was alight.

At least his construction hinted to Camellia that this lion knew what he was doing. Managing fire was no easy task. Many animals feared the flame, and rightly so. Few were skilled in managing it. She waited as he rooted around nearby and when Alabaster returned she stared at the ground in perplexity. "Stones?" Camellia wondered, raising a brow skeptically. She narrowed her eyes when he spoke of magic. Camellia had strong faith in the Mother's magic, and did not detect any hint of a joke. She would incline her head in a nod, then lower herself into a sternal position with her paws outstretched in front of her and her eyes trained upon the stones.

((Please note that Drifter is pulling this out their ass and has zero idea what they're talking about!!))

She had come down from her perch, watching his every move. He caught her look of skepticism and only smiled confidently. He placed a relatively flat slab of rock infront of him and placed the other chunks ontop. One almost black and glossy. The other red and dull. Right. He started. This is flint. You can find it in deposits of limestone. Obsidian and quartz also work. Even jasper. Other smooth glossy stones. This red one a claw moving to indicate. Is iron ore. If you lick it, it sorta tastes like blood.

With one paw he scooted the ore to the edge of his makeshift table toward the kindling. It's an awkward look but you hold the flint in your teeth further back in your mouth. Have a firm hold but don't not too tight. This next step can definitely crack a tooth. He did just this and then continued to try and instruct around the stone in his mouth. This takes a few good tries and it'll be easier to show you it than to explain it. But just remember, firm hold and swift strikes down.

It was indeed an awkward and rather unnatural thing to witness. The way he had to hold his head and swiftly strike downward against the ore probably looked a bit uncomfortable. He did this five times with nothing happening, but on the sixth strike, bits of small light flew out from the connection of stone. This happened three more times until hints of smoke rose up from the brush. Alabaster struck once more before spitting the ore out, lowering toward the bundle of brush and then gave it a gentle blow.

Fire slowly came to life before finding its hold and deciding to grow bigger. Aha! Alabaster drew back with a grin. Didn't doubt it for a second. He teased, clearly relieved that it had worked.

@Camellia

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Camellia studied the stones closely. They were familiar, and she nodded in understanding as he spoke the names of several stones and ores. He was speaking her language, some of the names even sounded very similar in her own language. Camellia, like all Savante, knew quite a bit about the various types of earth that abounded in his word. Rock nerds, you could say. "Kovakő." Camellia said, speaking the name of Flint in her own tongue and nodding in acknowledgment of the stone. Hazel eyes shifted to look at the iron ore and she held her gaze there for a second. Vasérc - a type of Sacred Earth. She made no move to test Alabaster's claim that the stone tasted like blood. She knew that it did.

Blood of the Mother. Camellia stared in wonderment without comment as the pale lion tried to explain but resorted to demonstration instead. She leaned in close, ears tipped forwards and eyes wide at the curious display. Whiskers twitched at the clacking of the two stones, once, twice... five times. And on the sixth strike there was a miniature flash of light as a tiny shower of sprays was loosed from the stone. Camellia could not restrain the gasp escaped her lips. She had to restrain her body from leaping to her feet when another shower of sparks appeared. And on the third time, a tiny wisp of smoke would appear from the pile of kindling.

The smell of burning grass reached her nostrils, and Camellia's heart was pounding in her ears. Alabaster was working now to nurse the tiny flame but Camellia had seen enough to be fully convinced. The Mother has sent me one of her messengers... Camellia's thoughts raced wildly as she stared at the pale, handsome lion who possessed the magic of drawing fire from the Mother herself. She had heard stories of many such a Deity. But never had she dreamed that she would encounter one herself, in a time of such great need. This would certainly become a legend in their lore, someday, Camellia was certain.

@Alabaster finished nurturing the small fire, and then presented his work with a roguish grin. Camellia had risen to her feet as well, but had lowered herself into a humble bow. "I am speechless, Uram," she uttered, her voice shaky. Her eyes darting from Bast, to the fire, and then to the stones. "You are giving me this magic?"

The woman seemed impressed and it only served to further brighten Alabaster's day. Helping others was what he did best. It was the way in which he thrived.

He wasn't sure what Uram meant but judging by their on going interaction, it clearly wasn't some sort of insult. Also her use of magic amused him. He assumed she was just following up on his earlier joke on having referred to this act as magic.
Yes, of course, @Camellia. He chuckled. If this will serve your needs, I'd prefer you take this than possibly end up hurt or worse waiting on that storm. Speaking of, thunder rolled behind him while a single rain droplet hit his ear; another hitting his nose. Best hurry. He encouraged as he made way to leave. Get home safe and I hope we meet again someday. The Warden nodded a farewell before trotting away.

/exit

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