Who: Fever, Helena, and those threading with them What:January non-event things. When: All month. Where: Across the isle. Warning(s): To be noted in threads individually
It was what made the soil so rich to begin with. Things broken down, changed, left as fuel and nutrients, where madness might find purchase and drink deep. Earth in her throat, her mouth.
Sitting down on the floor, crosslegged, the box in her lap. Reaching for one of her knives - it's the Figment Blade that answers this time, and she brings down the edge to try and cut through the seal that secures this box. No dice - the weapon's temperamental as it is, and today is a day where it wants to be nothing more than a beautiful paperweight. No cutting edge.
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It was what made the soil so rich to begin with. Things broken down, changed, left as fuel and nutrients, where madness might find purchase and drink deep. Earth in her throat, her mouth.
Sitting down on the floor, crosslegged, the box in her lap. Reaching for one of her knives - it's the Figment Blade that answers this time, and she brings down the edge to try and cut through the seal that secures this box. No dice - the weapon's temperamental as it is, and today is a day where it wants to be nothing more than a beautiful paperweight. No cutting edge.
Fine then, if it wanted to be like that.
"What if I blow this one up?"