@_sleeby_rat_
(I'm ok now lol)
(I'm ok now lol)
(morning)
(g'morning)
(guten tag)
(Ohayo!)
(Hyvaa huonen)
(still wanna be a crazy burning lion Jen?)
(what what? Asura's on FIRE?!)
(possibly. the peaceful morning was shattered by a roar near the gate and shouts of fire, but we're still not sure about the details lol)
(?! I go to sleep and this is what I wake up to. My goodness you guys were busy.)
(lol sorry XD Just another busy work day for the demon hunters, explosions and burning monsters are a norm at this point)
(lol yeah I'm just trying to figure out why he would be so pissed)
(oh no we've turned into Supernatural lol)
(maybe he…lost his staff? The one that still has Zoe trapped in it? Perhaps he thinks the hunters stole it? idk)
(that would probably work)
(alright cool. I have no idea what this place is like so I'm just going to make shit up, feel free to correct me)
Asura roared, his mane of fire blazing. People were running around, screaming, shooting at him. He stormed through the area, searching frantically for his stolen staff.
(lol maybe tone down the screaming but otherwise you're fine XD)
Raul dashed up, took in the situation, and made the wrong decision. "Get him knocked out before he burns down the camp! And someone go get Mike!"
Pluto winced at the roar. "Oh, that sounds…bad." (brb gotta weld for a bit)
(well I gotta leave for an appointment so maybe we'll get back to this at like… 11?)
(gtg read The Great Gatsby lol bye my dudes)
(lol okay then XD Also if it's okay I have an idea for what might have happened to the staff)
(hello I return after fighting the forge)
(lol I read the first page and my gaydar started going off I swear Nick (the narrator) is so gay for Gatsby)
(I haven't ready Gatsby so you're gonna have to humor me)
("Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction–Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away."
"–it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No–Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.")
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