Flamia reached over and grabbed her self a cup of firewater, taking small sips and leaning back in her chair. A grin spread across her face as the odd taste, meant for fire grophs, and not an aqua like herself, spread across her tongue. Surely, Flamia did not like the taste, but she did not stop drinking it.

A book was open upon her lap, one of her cherished favorites Harry Codfish. The book's pages were bent and it was slightly tattered from being handled and read too much.

Her disposition was nonchalant as she half-listened to Amadeus give his unprepared speech in grophtown. The politician had ordered everyone from the mountains to the beach to come and listen to him. Most were bored and tired, kids playing around in the wishing well, throwing coins in and laughing at the ridiculous wishes they made.