Ah, magicians. [alia grins, her teeth a shining arc, a crescent of moonlight, her bare, dirtied feet swinging to and fro, toenails chipped with polish.] Such scorn, Gale of Waterdeep, for such frivolities. One might imagine you as a stern, stoic type, keen of eye and deep of thought.

[she pauses long enough to let him strike, toppling the targets, eliciting grumbles from the underpaid barker – she will not risk befouling his concentration. but when he pauses, one delicate foot swings out, nudges his knee, pointed.] Except I have seen you tell sweet fairy tales to soothe the tears of Alina’s woeful birdbeast. You are no stoic. [her tongue pokes out, eyes scrunching shut, blazing in the sudden sweetness of her teasing.] I know your secrets~

[at his question, though, a sweep of solemnity across alia’s sunkissed face. she looks down at the ruffled skirt of her sundress, smooths it across her thighs.] They amuse me the same, I believe. I imagine I still would’ve been a skeptical child, even could I not do what I do. My devotion to my brother means I suspect power from other sources. No gods before Muad’dib, you see.

[then, tossing her hair back:] But it is amusing to hear their chirping, I suppose. These fortune tellers. It makes me laugh.