[Kefka is on top of a tall spire of rock, standing on his tip toes, and he's holding a paintbrush in midair. His eyes are closed, serene
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[Wtf why are they leaving ink residue of all things?? Drawing flowers doesn’t make them ink-flowers. they’re just flowers Oh wait, that would have been a good idea to create one of those out of nothing, considering they could bring an endless supply of ink--]
[--BUT NO THIS IS KEFKA. If he hasn’t discovered how to really use it, then maybe there’s still a chance before he starts un-doing the existence of his world.]
[A series of trees appear, roots twisting into the rock and limbs folding to create a throne for Kefka. He sits in it and waves the paintbrush back and forth to some tune in his head.]
This is such a wonderful toy! Why would I ever give this up?
I'd rather have it destroyed than it being abused. [btw you have my permission to do this if kefka wants to, if he figures that the switched items are only temporarily switched]
Wellll. Shit.]
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[Kefka spins; when he stops, there's a rumbling from below him. Grey mist floats up from below...]
And why would I destroy such a marvelous thing?
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[A series of trees appear, roots twisting into the rock and limbs folding to create a throne for Kefka. He sits in it and waves the paintbrush back and forth to some tune in his head.]
This is such a wonderful toy! Why would I ever give this up?
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