The Salle, Thursday Midday

[not_every_mage]

Anders was often lazy bordering on irresponsible about practicing magic. He could do what he needed to do when it was necessary, and the rest of the time there were so many more pleasant ways to spend his time.

But when you woke up to a monster duffle bag next to your pillow and had to kick prisoner and cursed suitcases out of the way just to get to the privy, it was time to set some shit on fire. Anders set up the targets in the salle as far from the door as he could get for the sake of privacy, then let loose. The bags wouldn't burn without instantly reappearing, but that didn't stop him from trying.

[OOC: Open salle/post.]

Behind the Dorms, Thursday Morning

[rebelseekspizza]

Everybody dealt with their emotional baggage in their own way. Some people accepted it. Some people ran away from it. Some people sat around and wept about it.

Dante? Dante had found a nice patch of empty ground behind the dorms, and he was punting his baggage up into the sky, then cleaving it in two with his sword. "Fuck off!" he called. "Puns should just stay punning!"

Something something abuse? The unnatural sharpness of Rebellion cut right through it. Hunted? Two slices in such rapid succession that the bag came apart in four pieces in mid-air. Don't know if I'm even--

Dante curled his arm back, bringing up the sword behind him. He focused, thinking about power, energy, shifting through his body, pouring into it-- Rebellion gave off a soft chime and it flashed white. He brought her forward at the same time as he kicked up the suitcase; a razor-sharp blade of white energy shot forward and cut it in two like it was a piece of paper.

Two more blades followed fast.

Tiny chunks of suitcase hit the grass.

"Good," Dante muttered, wiping at his cheek with his sleeve.

[[ open! ]]