♛ 003 ; open } { but don't play with me cuz you're playin' with fire
There’s a small patch of grass on fire in Grant Parker.
It’s not a very large fire-not even vaguely life threatening-but there’s a pretty brunette standing over said patch of burning grass and clearly trying to stamp it out. She’s not looking to cause a health hazard, and she’s not even sure where the fire came from, but if you’re paying attention, the more frustrated she gets, the harder the fire seems to be to put out.
It’s frustrating. Far more frustrating than she had become accustomed to since arriving in Chicago. In fact, things in Chicago had mostly been going well for her for a change, and she had been wanting to maintain that. However, as most things with Bela Talbot do, things didn’t take all that long to start backfiring her, and this was only the first sign of things going terribly awry. Spontaneously starting fires are never an easy thing to deal with, and Bela clearly isn’t in the mood. In fact, she’s rather annoyed that this has fallen on her to deal with if she doesn’t want Chicago to go up in smoke like it did in 1871.
If she were being completely honest with herself, she might be willing to admit that it’s a possibility that she started the fire. She also might be willing to admit that it’s possible that the ability to start fires with her mind could be her rift power. Might. However, she’s not going to admit that out loud to anyone, so for right now, she’s maintaining the story that this is absolutely not her fault. Anyone who knows her should be grateful that she’s at least trying to put it out.
So, here’s Bela, standing in Grant Park, cursing a blue streak over burning grass. Someone, please give her a hand before she burns herself.
It’s not a very large fire-not even vaguely life threatening-but there’s a pretty brunette standing over said patch of burning grass and clearly trying to stamp it out. She’s not looking to cause a health hazard, and she’s not even sure where the fire came from, but if you’re paying attention, the more frustrated she gets, the harder the fire seems to be to put out.
It’s frustrating. Far more frustrating than she had become accustomed to since arriving in Chicago. In fact, things in Chicago had mostly been going well for her for a change, and she had been wanting to maintain that. However, as most things with Bela Talbot do, things didn’t take all that long to start backfiring her, and this was only the first sign of things going terribly awry. Spontaneously starting fires are never an easy thing to deal with, and Bela clearly isn’t in the mood. In fact, she’s rather annoyed that this has fallen on her to deal with if she doesn’t want Chicago to go up in smoke like it did in 1871.
If she were being completely honest with herself, she might be willing to admit that it’s a possibility that she started the fire. She also might be willing to admit that it’s possible that the ability to start fires with her mind could be her rift power. Might. However, she’s not going to admit that out loud to anyone, so for right now, she’s maintaining the story that this is absolutely not her fault. Anyone who knows her should be grateful that she’s at least trying to put it out.
So, here’s Bela, standing in Grant Park, cursing a blue streak over burning grass. Someone, please give her a hand before she burns herself.