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gospel_of_oblivionIt was a nice enough night, and Illyana had Baggage, and, well, it was time for one of her favorite traditions from her high school days --
Yeeting baggage off a roof!
She already had her wireless speakers blasting some of her favorite tunes, an entire punch bowl of Moscow Mule that she had mixed-up, more vodka in a cooler, a lawn chair, and an truly impressive array of portals spaced apart off the roof.
Yana grabbed a backpack with the number '55' on it, and whooping at the top of her lungs, spun around to throw it as far as she could, before shifting a portal over slightly to catch it.
"Three points," she decided, leaning over to write her score in her therapy journal. "Nice. I'll take it."
...was this what Doc Sampson meant her to use the journal for? Unclear. But this was today's journal therapy anyway.
[OOC: OPEN! COME DITCH YOUR BAGGAGE!]
Yeeting baggage off a roof!
She already had her wireless speakers blasting some of her favorite tunes, an entire punch bowl of Moscow Mule that she had mixed-up, more vodka in a cooler, a lawn chair, and an truly impressive array of portals spaced apart off the roof.
Yana grabbed a backpack with the number '55' on it, and whooping at the top of her lungs, spun around to throw it as far as she could, before shifting a portal over slightly to catch it.
"Three points," she decided, leaning over to write her score in her therapy journal. "Nice. I'll take it."
...was this what Doc Sampson meant her to use the journal for? Unclear. But this was today's journal therapy anyway.
[OOC: OPEN! COME DITCH YOUR BAGGAGE!]
