We found a bench near the edge shelf. He waved his hand and sent a wave of air slashing across the stone, scouring the dust and grime away.
"Soul casting?" I asked, startled.
He shrugged. "I watched you practice it enough I ought to be able to pick up at least that much. But how was it? I'll admit I'm a little nervous to let a master like you watch me."
He grinned at me, and I flushed, slipping my arm out of his and sitting on the bench. The stone was cold against my thighs, the obsidian smooth and glassy. My tail draped over the open back, the tip twitching back and forth like a fern on a windy day.
"It was alright," I mumbled. "I…I wish I could show you more, but I…"
"Shhh, it's alright. I understand," he said, sitting beside me. He was close, our thighs nearly touching. My breath caught as he took my hand again, holding it in his lap.
