Sebastian had, at first, granted Florence the small mercy of leaving her be for now. Or if you could even call it a mercy, or anything remotely close to it. It was much more akin to biding his time, for he did have other things to get to while she made her way down to the theater department. She could wait, for now. He was sure that allowing her to stew in her own panic developed all on her lonesome without any interference from Sebastian, was going to strike fear deep into her heart, and he'd enjoy watching that later.
For at first, he paroled the parameters of the school a little, invisible and intangible, nothing but a mind existing out of the realms of space. He went around, peering out of windows and pulling blinds up, allowing him to see out, and anyone else, in.
And when he found a door that led outside, it wasn't hard for him to flicker into physical existence, break the locking mechanism on that door, and pushing that door open, peering outside with a smirk before he disappeared again, continuing on his way.
At this point, Sebastian wanted chaos. He wanted to destroy the plans of keeping the people 'safe', he wanted to destroy their chances of figuring out who the puppeteer was. He wanted to see the man come and destroy these people, he wanted to watch him take a victim, or two, right from under their noses.
And so for a short while, he spent his time opening windows and doors where people wouldn't immediately find them in such a state, ensuring they would stay open for as long as possible. And he couldn't wait to see if his efforts paid off, or if he would be investing more time into ensuring the terror of Bentley's people.
After a short while, Sebastian felt the pull to Florence like an addiction, and like an addiction, he didn't deny himself the satisfaction. And oh, what a delight it was to find himself in the shadows of the prop department watching Florence panic, feeling it rolling off her in waves as she struggled to maintain her physical form long enough to smoke one of those cigarettes-- Something he maintained tasted far worse than they used to when he was living.
He watched on for a good while as she swore to herself, and finally stomped out the cigarette she'd been trying to smoke. It was then that he pulled himself from the shadows, footsteps sounding dull on carpeted floors as he approached her, standing behind her and watching her, smirk missing but smugness written all over his schooled features anyway.
"What's the matter, miss Marsh? Struggling now, are we?"
kaledo-art
janainaart
snowghoul
germansingergirl
jbbartram-illu
