[closed: queenoftiramisu] [m!a's active: grimdark!crumbelina]
(x)
{queenoftiramisu}
As Vale waits, the metal knots in his armour stitching themselves together to form a mesh of armour, the systems kicking in at speeds he himself never did; after all, this was an emergency and emergencies demanded immediate response.
The streets of Sugar Rush are empty; wind skimming the trees and the ground, dust dancing an intricate dance of joy and wonder unbefitting the task Vale had to perform. The smell of hate and despair was in the air; permeating the very ground the game ran on, pushing at it's very core.
It had been a week or so after you had met the engima wrapped in a mystery that was Miss Crumbelina deCaramello, and you could sense her in the aura that was nothing more than the throes of the eldritch gods; the sensation not unlike a million needles prickling every inch of you, your very nerves on edge.
He continued to wait, the expression on his face perfectly neutral - but if you could see past the facade, and the practiced poker face - you would see nothing more but unfathomable, incomprehensible anger. The grimdark throes were hard to best, and hard to shake, and Vale was going to need every ounce of his control to be able to resist them himself long enough to provide assistance to Crumbelina.
And then he would need to keep enough of himself in line to not detonate the game this corruption came from.
He looked up at the sky, his armour confirming what he knew; it was time to move.
He sighed.
"Time shall wait for no man; light shall wait for no dawn; it was our destiny to go out and seek it all." - Barack Obama, 2014.
(Yes, you are almost positive Obama said that. Almost positive.)
