04-10-2018, 03:13 PM
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[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; width: 305px; border-bottom: 1px solid black; border-left: 1px solid black; border-right: 1px solid black; padding: 10px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin: auto; color: black; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]Bastille had wondered what Imm would get up to with this task. He was, after all, a complete and utter shit -- he probably had an unlimited amount of wild ideas in the name of entertaining people, honestly. Luckily his headache had faded somewhat since the morning (he was still worried about Luna, still agitated, but he'd been getting better at distracting himself), because he had a filling whatever game Imm came up with most likely would have annoyed the hell out of him otherwise. As Bast heard him start yelling, he rolled his eyes and headed outside, eyeing the... hill?
"Uh," he said, giving Imm a skeptical look, "I'm not sure I even want to know."
Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]