Post by CHARLES FRANCIS DENBRIGHT on Dec 9, 2012 23:02:37 GMT -5
-----------------------------ruined plans and soda cans
[/size][/right][/font]Fox was on his own today. It was a bit lonely, sure, but not altogether unpleasant. it was important to fly solo as an artist sometimes, for creative growth. And that's what he was; as much as teachers resented it and Thunder students hated it, his pranks were his art. He was alone today because Annabel was wrapped up in exams all day, and nobody else that he knew was skilled enough or even remotely interested in risking hours of detention just to piss off a few enemy students. The risk-to-benefit ratio may seem high to most, but Fox didn’t view it in quite the same way as others. The possibility of detention, or worse, almost never crosses his mind, and even when his adventures did end in one form of punishment or another, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world - not in his mind. Half the time he’d end up with friends to spend the hour or two with, and the other half it was enemies, which could turn out to be equally as interesting.
Fox was pretty loyal to the alliances; didn’t socialize with Fires unless there was a decent reason, and downright hated 99% of all Thunder elementals. He was never quite sure how to feel about Winds or traitors from the other side at first, and tended to be distrustful on principle. He’d met a few decent traitors over time, which usually confused his sense of loyalty he felt towards his own alliance, but he tried to write them off a special cases, never thinking about the possibility that people could get along if it weren’t for their predestined alliances.
Today he found himself getting ready to set off coke and mentos rockets aimed at the lowest windows of the Thunder turret from the bushes. He didn’t exactly expect them to hit the windows, but hopefully they’d make enough of a ruckus that someone would notice them and get all mad about it, and that he’d be able to witness this lovely event from a spot safe in a tree a few meters away. His dad had taught him how to make quick, efficient coke-mentos rockets ages ago, and it was a skill that came into use more than enough times for the lesson to have paid off. He couldn’t use his abilities, being that it wasn’t straight up water, but he didn’t really mind; the effects were hilarious whether or not he hit his intended target.
Just as he was about to launch the first rocket and then head off down the line he heard someone else in the underbrush. ”Hello?” He dearly hoped he wasn’t about to discover a rival student camping out watching him for a report to any higher authority.
