A flagon of felicitation

[Frygyd]

A gurgling and sloshing ever present burble made up the droning repetetive sounds emitted by the watery summoned being and it seemed to be constantly in Frya's presence these days.  The babbling brook, crashing waves and storming seas all reverberated dully within the language of the elemental which was constantly communicating, reassuring, re-assessing, recognizing and reshaping.  Guarding.  Nobody ever came near the mage without its watery presence in between these days. It had become a physical layer of her personal space and reacted to her moods and emotions immediately, flowing and surging as only liquid can as her will was carried out tirelessly.

Every mage feels the lulling siren call of the arcane magicks with its instant gratification and power spiking highs but always there is the risk and repercussion of what is being drawn upon.

'Felborne mage.'

The whispers were dulled and often drowned out completely by the ever present watery companion.  Frost had its strengths and it was icily protective.  Frya had always felt an affinity for frost magicks.  Ever since that cold night in the dark so long ago when she was so very young so far from the village and so very brave.  Yes.  So very long ago now.  It was not bravado she felt as she wrapped herself in the chilly protections of her favored magicks but these things she would never admit to, nor face directly, like water she would flow around the razor sharp blade of fear and come through on the other side unscathed.  Or so this was the conscious intent.

She took a long drink from her flask and the glugging of its liquid was a merry conversation with her elemental companion that only she and it could share.