Added this to Severa's second chapter

Thought it was kinda funny.

Severa’s first impression of Kestovar had been different. Even now, he carried an almost effeminate kind of charm about him, with an intensely focused gaze that made her think he’d be a different kind of person. Someone driven, someone serious. But that early assessment had disappointed her grandly. He had no interest in ever pushing boundaries, no fire for aetheric study, no real motivation beyond getting through each day.

His only passion in life was collecting quartz and inert rocks from nearby caves and riverbanks. It infuriated her just a bit more even as she saw him. One time, he had spent an entire afternoon inspecting a dull chunk of granite as if it held the secrets of the cosmos, and dared to show up an hour late while the rest of them were drilling glyphs or mastering elemental shifts. She remembered watching him, almost aghast, trying to understand what satisfaction anyone could find in such a tedious, painstaking routine.

Her eyes would almost twitch every time she caught sight of him, perched at the same spot near the riverbank, utterly absorbed in inspecting his rocks. It was maddening. No matter how often she passed by, there he was, still hunched over a pile of quartz and dull pebbles, lost in whatever slow, meticulous world he inhabited. It was the kind of obsession that made her blood boil.

One time, it pushed her right over the edge. She’d just received her practical score for Veil Thaumaturgy I—the highest anyone had ever gotten in that span, a solid 48 out of 50. But the only comment Elon ever gave her was what she should’ve done to snatch the perfect 50. Nothing about the effort, just cold, cutting criticism.

Fuming, Severa stormed out to the riverbank, seeking some quiet, some escape from the grinding weight of constant belittlement. It was a mistake, since Kestovar was there too. How he was still allowed in the Synod while she had to endure constant dismissal for falling short of perfection was nothing short of baffling.

She’d lashed out at him because it was a natural thing to do. By the end of her one-way tirade, her voice rough with frustration, Kestovar didn’t even flinch. He just looked at her, then calmly reached down and plucked a small, smooth pebble from the ground.

So she had to take it from him. She took his pebble and marched off. It was a childish thing to do, but Kestovar seemed the childish kind, so it was only fair.