*She sits in the school garden, tending to flowers and studying in the shade. The gentle breeze carries the scent of fresh flowers in the small room, the skylight bringing a spotlight of warmth to the room. Today was another day of menial tasks. School was in lockdown, apparently there was a case of magical... she hates to think it, but, yes, a case of magical terrorism. Her tree like vines extend, one with a watering can, one with fertilizer, and a couple more boring little tasks. She feels a sharp pain as the stench of magic and fire crawls down one vine tendril. Fire. Their flammability was a danger to her body as she reluctantly dissipated the vine that protected a magic producing flower from the unusual warmth. It withered instantly. She stood up. Thinking to herself* This is the end to my little garden.. it seems..* But she shook it off. It is not the time to be pessimistic as she normally would. Her kin were in danger. Anger flared. She was going to do a little.. Violent firefighting.*
