The figure in the doorway was sleight compared to the stocky form of Brendan. At first, it might have made one think of a child but as it drew closer, it became obvious that this was the body of a maiden. The girl was young, early teens, but she seemed to be aging by the second as she confidently walked out of the supernatural gateway towards the summoner. She walked right through the fires as if they were not even there, indeed, not the slightest bit of sweat seemed to mar her fair skin.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i292.photobucket.com/albums/mm18/midorikumo/2008-06-26-106247-Copy-1.jpg)</div>Striding directly out from all the sigaldry Brendan had so pain-stakenly arranged, the young woman, now appearing around 16, paused. The aging effects she had shown seemed to have stopped since no change was made in the several moments she took to look about the room, her gaze eventually falling on the rather cowardly-appearing Brendan Folly. Blinking several times as if she expected him to suddenly transform into something far more worthy of her attention, she waited patiently. When it became apparent that he was not going to be forthcoming with an explanation, her dark eyes narrowed.<br/><br/>This new blonde girl was not the slightest bit amused by suddenly being ripped away from her world. And while her fair face made her seem innocent enough, there was a wisdom to her eyes that showed her for the old soul she truly was. Add to that her armor and the sword at her side and any perceptive individual would pick up on the fact that she was far more than she seemed. But there was nothing demonic about her in spite of the blazing inferno that still engulfed the room without consuming it. She held herself with and air of honor, nobility and dignity, as if she had been raised in a palace some where far away. Though such an assumption would be far from the truth. She was, in fact, a creature of the wild who held herself to a lofty code of honor because she had found it to be her personal way of life. Others of her kin were often more chaotic and selfish, doing only what they needed to survive and gather what they wanted. But Fiametta... she was the breath of a different wind. It was a boon to Brendan that it was she and not some other firey fowl had answered the call of his sorcery.<br/><br/>Still, he had earned her ire by calling her here against her will. Back home, she was at peace, to roam the mountainside at her leisure. There she was free and whole, but this please reeked of the mundane; she could sense the painful lack of magic in the air around her, regardless of Brendan's success with the summoning incantations. She stepped forward to the man on his knees and slowly drew her blade, holding it before him in line with his throat, though several inches away. "Who are you whom has called me here? Have you a reason good enough to tear me from my world?" He voice was mature, mid-pitched and full of the promise of retribution should the boy prove to be selfish and baleful in his intent.<br/>