by Miranda Weaver » Wed Mar 27, 2019 2:37 pm
She'd let her temper get the better of her again. She had excuses, good ones even. Being a clairvoyant precognitive in a place where dimensions and possibilities were bubbling around like so much chili in a pot was part of why her head was hurting. But excuses were just that... excuses. The choice was always hers. She leaned on the railing at the top of the lighthouse, trying to regain her composure, trying to see a good way out of this mess. But it wasn't coming. Only dark futures and incomplete pictures presented themselves for her to look at and she wasn't about to get swallowed by that again.
((Open))