The notion that she might be a target in battle, that templars - she had already learnt to fear the word - might go after her, ought to have put some healthy fear into her. In truth, it did not, it only lit a fire of excitement and pride in her stomach, alighting her eyes with a dark glitter. Truly, she was an odd and unladylike creature, but the thought of battle, of being dangerous enough to attract attention and fear, was tantalizing. It evoked the tingling memory of knowing she was really alive, of feeling it like she had seldom before. Shrugging, she let a small defiant smile onto her lips. There was nothing to say.
The smile grew, ever so subtly, corners of her mouth turning up as to make it more sardonic. Imenry might have been the teacher, but it was the smile of an indulgent teacher letting an errant pupil have her way. Elsa might not have control of every spell she could do, or even know exactly when her strong feelings might translate themselves into magic - like last night with Roran. But she knew enough of what she could do, to guess that if she concentrated hard enough, she could burn Imenry to cinders. But that was hardly a good strategy, since it would remove her from Brennan's good graces forever. No, as much as it annoyed her in that moment, this woman would have to be killed with kindness. The thought of another woman, a teacher and from the background that those she had spoken to assumed Elsa had too, was intriguing. But it was not intriguing enough to overcome Elsa's pride or her anger at Imenry's little jabs.
Straightening, she tried to find her balance, hoping that if she centred herself first, she would be nimble enough not to end up on the ground again. Narrowing her eyes at the warrior woman, Elsa took a deep breath, not trying to remember. It was of no use however, and after a minute of blank nothingness, she moved to get closer again, aiming a weak swipe against Imenry's left side, before darting at her right. It might work, just might.