One moment it was easy to stare, the next moment she was singled out of a crowd of people. She shouldn't have stood in the firelight. It made for an easy target. Someone caught her wrist as the other Sylvan's close enough yelled in protest. People were all saying things too quickly for her to catch. Crazy some spat, others just protested in grumbling sorts of ways. Her wrist caught, she was turned around. But she reversed the hold and pulled the man toward her.
Young Sylvans were always an easy target, a swift knee placed between the legs and down he went. The uproar of protest from his friends was ignored as it should have been. They should respect their elders instead of calling them crazy. She was moving.
Around the fire. He was still pointing. She didn't feel as shy any longer.
"What if I don't want to talk to you?" She said. Grace born from behind a Sylvan, ego to match said grace. She smiled, but not at him. To the surrounding elves.
"They think I'm crazy. And they think you can kill a dragon. I doubt the second, do you doubt the first?" She spun to face him, this time she wasn't smiling.
Some of the elves were shaking their heads, others will still trying to press drinks upon Leironuoth, in hopes that he might forget about her. She somehow doubted that worked on holy beings. Wasn't that what he was suppose to be? Without the fire he seemed brighter. Brighter than the fire itself.