enjoy the ride
It’s been a simmering rage, and still in between picking up the shards of glass from the bottle she’d thrown at KaIsel when he’d been here not that long ago, the young Attuned finds herself no longer really giving a fuck about it. It’s a sentiment her and her siblings seem to share, at least, so as she almost robotically snags bottle after bottle from the glass shelves, she glances over to her brother when he speaks.
“Good.” She murmurs, shooting him a sharp smile that’s more blood thirsty than it is grateful, shoving a few more tattered rags into the tops of these bottles until it’s soaked with the bit of alcohol waiting for the match to be struck. The matches in question sit unassuming on the clean countertop, waiting, begging to be grabbed, but she doesn’t delve into it just yet.
Instead, she waits until her and Nova have finished making their molotovs, until she’s poured them all a shot of their top shelf shit, downed the shot and then she grabs the matches. They’re light in her hand, which only reminds her that her heart and mind are far too heavy in comparison. “Let’s get the fuck outta here then, yeah?” She says very belatedly to Vesper, then shoots Nova a smaller, apologetic smile, and waits for them all to get into position.
Then, after a slow and deep breath, Caly strikes the match. The flame is vibrant and orange as it sparks to life, reflecting against their Safrinified space and the bottles waiting to explode. She lights the end of the longest rag in the Molotov, holding it over toward her siblings so they can take some of the flame before she throws it with them both. Together.
“Good.” She murmurs, shooting him a sharp smile that’s more blood thirsty than it is grateful, shoving a few more tattered rags into the tops of these bottles until it’s soaked with the bit of alcohol waiting for the match to be struck. The matches in question sit unassuming on the clean countertop, waiting, begging to be grabbed, but she doesn’t delve into it just yet.
Instead, she waits until her and Nova have finished making their molotovs, until she’s poured them all a shot of their top shelf shit, downed the shot and then she grabs the matches. They’re light in her hand, which only reminds her that her heart and mind are far too heavy in comparison. “Let’s get the fuck outta here then, yeah?” She says very belatedly to Vesper, then shoots Nova a smaller, apologetic smile, and waits for them all to get into position.
Then, after a slow and deep breath, Caly strikes the match. The flame is vibrant and orange as it sparks to life, reflecting against their Safrinified space and the bottles waiting to explode. She lights the end of the longest rag in the Molotov, holding it over toward her siblings so they can take some of the flame before she throws it with them both. Together.
Calypso
