05-11-2022, 04:38 PM
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The ocelot’s four eyes roamed over the crowd. Her anxiety spiked—more so than usual for the monthly meeting. Her claws scraped pebbles in the dirt.
While others might’ve relaxed from the calm over the groups’ current neutrality, Rosemary knew the serenity would crash around their heads soon. She couldn’t not think about how Stryker had murdered the Tanglewoods leader (and her friend) during one of these monthly meetings.
Rosemary shook her head. Eventually, violence would come, but she had no concrete evidence things would break at this exact moment. Captain Morrison had a drunkenly reliable head on his shoulders. Hell, even the Pittian ardent leering at everyone balefully from a boulder hadn’t actually hurt anyone—intimidated, yes, but not attacked—whenever ve’d appeared at stonehedge.
Her satchel bumped against her shoulder as she sat down. Telekinetically removing the strap, the witch sighed as its weight dropped off her shoulders. As Typhoon’s healer, it was a mostly metaphorical burden she carried, but the physical weight of medical supplies wasn’t a negligible consideration.
Stretching her shoulders and spine, Rosemary stifled a yawn. The lack of violence was good, but there was one thing she agreed with Vale on; these things were often dreadfully boring, and she wasn’t sure it was worth lugging herself and her supplies to these things when nothing of note transpired.
[/td][/tr][/table]While others might’ve relaxed from the calm over the groups’ current neutrality, Rosemary knew the serenity would crash around their heads soon. She couldn’t not think about how Stryker had murdered the Tanglewoods leader (and her friend) during one of these monthly meetings.
Rosemary shook her head. Eventually, violence would come, but she had no concrete evidence things would break at this exact moment. Captain Morrison had a drunkenly reliable head on his shoulders. Hell, even the Pittian ardent leering at everyone balefully from a boulder hadn’t actually hurt anyone—intimidated, yes, but not attacked—whenever ve’d appeared at stonehedge.
Her satchel bumped against her shoulder as she sat down. Telekinetically removing the strap, the witch sighed as its weight dropped off her shoulders. As Typhoon’s healer, it was a mostly metaphorical burden she carried, but the physical weight of medical supplies wasn’t a negligible consideration.
Stretching her shoulders and spine, Rosemary stifled a yawn. The lack of violence was good, but there was one thing she agreed with Vale on; these things were often dreadfully boring, and she wasn’t sure it was worth lugging herself and her supplies to these things when nothing of note transpired.
PEACEFALL
peace comes at dawn, but yours comes at night
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?