6 | video
[like perhaps many feeds before, this one starts off with blackness, and a sharp series of clunks- because it's fairly unlikely that someone hasn't thrown their NV before. the video blips on from static and white noise, a blurry fix on what looks like somewhere outside. green. a large expanse that's likely the sky. something purple- another something purple. a black silhouette nearby.]
[when the video finally cuts out briefly, then cuts back in with more focus, it appears the black silhouette that's edging closer has been turning that impressive mob of floating purple vending machine monsters out in Sector 7 into a culinary disaster area. sandwiches, cakes, spilled drinks, you name it, it's all splatted spectacularly all over the grass. considering the purple cloud of Prize Pods behind him, he's no where close to being done- and Vanitas is furious, if the way he's squashing a grilled cheese in his fist and leering down at the NV is any indicator.]
One of you idiots has to know magic that isn't fire. [or ice. or lightning. why? the idea of his Unversed feeding people and making them happy makes him sick, but he has yet to find a way to destroy the things that doesn't result in more food. fire just yielded brewed coffee, soups and grilled sandwiches. ice gave him ice cream sandwiches and popsicles. lightning? lemon tarts. everywhere.]
[with that thought, Vanitas suddenly turns and buries his grilled cheese laden fist into a Prize Pod that hovered too close- it explodes, and dissipates into a wisp of darkness, but not before dropping yet another slice of cake directly on the NV, smearing pink frosting all over the camera. bon apetit, Siren's Port!]
[when the video finally cuts out briefly, then cuts back in with more focus, it appears the black silhouette that's edging closer has been turning that impressive mob of floating purple vending machine monsters out in Sector 7 into a culinary disaster area. sandwiches, cakes, spilled drinks, you name it, it's all splatted spectacularly all over the grass. considering the purple cloud of Prize Pods behind him, he's no where close to being done- and Vanitas is furious, if the way he's squashing a grilled cheese in his fist and leering down at the NV is any indicator.]
One of you idiots has to know magic that isn't fire. [or ice. or lightning. why? the idea of his Unversed feeding people and making them happy makes him sick, but he has yet to find a way to destroy the things that doesn't result in more food. fire just yielded brewed coffee, soups and grilled sandwiches. ice gave him ice cream sandwiches and popsicles. lightning? lemon tarts. everywhere.]
[with that thought, Vanitas suddenly turns and buries his grilled cheese laden fist into a Prize Pod that hovered too close- it explodes, and dissipates into a wisp of darkness, but not before dropping yet another slice of cake directly on the NV, smearing pink frosting all over the camera. bon apetit, Siren's Port!]