"Quite." She affirms, steps back to unsheathe the blade at her side. The graze of thumb and intent: A rune ignites, sends the steel spitting into flame. "Ashes are less readily-possessed."

Not that, you know, it doesn’t still happen. Wren offers him the hilt. Perhaps that’s a bit insulting, too — the confidence she’ll get it back —

"Go on, then."

Light er up.