hungry and hollow for all the things you took away
For the thirty thousand millionth time or so, the (former) Lieutenant walks along the beach, looking for a way off this crazy island.
"Beebending," he spits, shaking his head.
For once, he's alone out here. No magicians, no psychics, no "heroes" in eye-searingly bright, skintight garments, no grey kids with horns. No damned beebenders, and today, not even that kid with the talking motorcycle (probably just the spirits messing around, but in this setting it just irks him). Even if he doesn't find a way out of here (again), at least he has some peace and quiet for a few hours.
Of course, the main problem with peace and quiet is he starts to wonder what it is he wants to go back for, anyway. But it'd be better than here. Probably.
"Beebending," he spits, shaking his head.
For once, he's alone out here. No magicians, no psychics, no "heroes" in eye-searingly bright, skintight garments, no grey kids with horns. No damned beebenders, and today, not even that kid with the talking motorcycle (probably just the spirits messing around, but in this setting it just irks him). Even if he doesn't find a way out of here (again), at least he has some peace and quiet for a few hours.
Of course, the main problem with peace and quiet is he starts to wonder what it is he wants to go back for, anyway. But it'd be better than here. Probably.