“And did you see that huge fireball I tossed?!?”

The burden of Najima’s presence wasn’t one that even Liabelle could overlook. The volatile, downright reckless fire sorceress brought about enough trouble worth seven tabaxi children, and on top of that, she was boisterous, and clumsily loud.

And yet, Liabelle still looked up to Najima. She was among the bravest people she had ever met -sometimes to her own detriment- and had an endless optimism she couldn’t help but envy a little. Few things discouraged Najima, and when they did, she was quick to pick herself back up and keep on pushing.

“Yeah, a pretty big fireball, Najima...”

It wasn’t even a fireball. Her training alongside her kin, the Lizardfoes, taught Liabelle a fact as simple as that. She imagined no one would confuse a fireball with a lucky fire bolt that struck a heap of dry hay that would end up bursting into flames; and yet, it almost seemed like Najima did.

“It was just about the most incredible flame I’ve cast! A sign of my strength!”

“Yeah!”

It was impressive, Liabelle could admit, but far more a product of luck than a product of raw arcane prowess.

Exaggerating the truth wasn’t something Najima was unfamiliar to. She did it countless times, and Liabelle was there for most of them. The fire cat reserved retelling their adventures when they were away from the danger and together alone. It was a bit of a strange ritual of Najima’s.

And regardless of the fibs, she loved hearing her version of their adventures. Something about her clumsy enthusiasm and ability to make things seem “cooler” than they were delighted Liabelle.

It let her know she could count on Najima. Why she gathered that from her stories, Liabelle wasn’t entirely sure.