"Fire resistance." Marcella takes his tone as quiet attention to her explanation, which at least has the bonus of making her happy (even while Felix tries to relax enough to concentrate on the paintbrush in his hand). "The streets - and sometimes the sky - will be full of paper lanterns and torches at this time of the year, and the last thing we need is a flaming kite coming down on our heads. This way even if one of us singes the wings, it won't matter too much."

"Marcella doesn't spare any effort even if she's only crafting a toy," Terentius comments from where he's drowsing comfortably.

"I have pride in my work," Marcella retorts lightly. The magic she's weaving has started to shift subtly in color as the pattern becomes more intricate, from brilliant blue to white, and then slowly toward a fiery red. This is an enchantment she knows quite well, and it doesn't hurt her concentration to talk. "I'm sure Jim does as well." He didn't play around with the kite he was building, and she noticed.