"Golly, gee well that just sucks, doesn't it?"
Rachelle flinched from where she was, halfway inside the tent, her head and shoulders still sticking out. Mild prophanity, never good, she thought. "Tsundre, Pimp can stay with me, Flash'd keep him company," she said. Suddenly, goose bumps exploded over her arms and down her back.
Decon dropped to the ground, his smokey grey cloaks flarring as he fell to his knees, the veins in his neck bulging. Hello, Decon, Cassandre cooed. I'm getting stronger. But I suppose you probably know that by now. Oh, am I hurting you? I'm sorry. I'll go now. There was NO appologey in her voice, but her connection was already dimming. Decon forced himself to his feet, and stood there shaking. "Please go inside, Tsundre. Please. R-Rachelle, you as well."
"Alright, Decon," Rachelle nodded as she slid the rest of the way into the tent. "Damon?" she asked, noticing his rigid stance and wondering briefly if the same thing as had happened to Decon was happening to Damon. She quickly cast the thought aside, she didn't have goosebumps this time.




























