Mori Baker, Possum Kingdom
How disgusting.
A stand born from hate, from violence. One with enough versatility it left us blind to it’s true purpose. In other hands I’m sure it would have been more than fascinating. Instead it sprung forth from hands stained red for the guilt.
Possum Kingdom is a stand thriving from water, moisture. Each hand has different fingers, one with syringes for injecting more moisture into the target. The other with small, open tips with a vacuum within, pulling it from the target. This was… something I should have taken more note of. Something one should keep an eye on.
I don’t remember the numbers anymore, for to me there was really only one.
Several people disappeared, though it is a large town and few thought anything of it. Even his sister was blind. He was not one for a proper fight either, preferring to do his work quick with little room for retaliation. Had he chosen anyone else that day… I like to think things would have been different.
I wish things were different regardless.
Removing water swiftly from a target, leaving behind a thick dust that coats your lungs with all the force of a desert. Injecting water had… less than savory results, it seemed, as he only did that once to a target. He would use it more around us, the Heartbreak, the people who thought him family. He would keep the flowers his sister did not use her ability on alive just a bit longer. It was hard not to trust him. His voice. His eyes.
Now they make me nothing but sick.
Alanis Baker, if you see these, I apologize. You do not deserve to shoulder his sins.
Mori Baker, I beg you to rot as you deserve.