Jan 1, 2017
“You wanna do the honors?” Daph’s question echoed into the night, zippo lighter sitting pretty in the hand of her outstretched arm. The parking lot was a vacant wasteland - save for two shadowy figures and a gasoline-drenched automobile. A shaky snail trail of the accelerant paved a path from the puddle to the feet of the havoc-wreckers, practically begging to be set ablaze. The poor owner of the car, probably a student doing some late-night cramming or drooling on one of the library tables, would return in the morning to find nothing but a charred frame and melted leather. They practically majored in hell-raising and would perform their craft to the best of their abilities at the request of the allmighty school blog. Duty calls.
@vshford