<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/9tvxbXt.jpg])</div><strong>Character Name:</strong><em>Melody Yeoh (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=348080.msg16381559#msg16381559)</em><br/><strong>Main Progeny Crystal:</strong><em>The Creator of Paradise</em><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>rainbow knit (https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b2/76/75/b27675ff579eb41da9a68bee0d1e72e3.jpg), white tank top, blue jeans, green converse shoes<br/><strong>HP:</strong>55<em>/</em>55<br/><strong>EP:</strong>70<em>/</em>70<br/><strong>Time:</strong><em>July 3, 8:00 - 9:00 AM XST</em><br/><strong>Location:</strong><em></em><br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>|<br/><strong>Notes:</strong>Attempting to douse the table flame.<br/><hr/><strong></strong><br/><br/><strong>"The Whittaker widow,"</strong>Melody acknowledged. Saying something seemed to ground her back into the present. The flash of fire had brought her back to her constellation and the explosion of heat had been a thunderous strike of the hammer on the anvil. A memory? She didn't have time to make sense of her 27 stars or the comfort they brought. Or the monsters. They were small, child-sized, and vicious. It was unsettling to see her sisters attacking so readily, but this was a necessary thing. They were<em>not</em>meat!<br/><br/>She scanned her companions. Not hurt. Not hurt. Not hurt. Not hurt. Good; let's keep it that way! She didn't feel the need to engage - everyone was kicking ass so handily! But there was a curiosity. An itch to scratch. Like riding a bike, she lifted her hand. Her slingshot.<br/><br/><em>It was all I had left of him when I was a kid.</em><br/><br/>There was a sweet pang. Gentle and sad. Memories brought a wistful smile to her lips as she held up the wood and leather device. It was old and of an aesthetic that did not match her outfit, but it was not just a weapon. It was a cherished memento... Between the Y frame a golden coin materialized; there was no pouch that it sat in, but Melody mimed pulling back strap and took aim at the goblin fighter... But that fire!<br/><br/><strong>"You're doing great, ladies!"</strong>she shouted as she disengaged with her weapon. She put the slingshot back on her hip and picked up the bag of flour that had been tossed at the door. With a heft, she picked it up. Where to go? She eyed the shape of the couch before running with the bag over to the table. She up-ended the sack, attempting to douse the oily flame with the powder.<br/><br/><strong>"Watch out for the flame! We need to do something about the couch, too!"</strong>For being in such a stressful situation, she sure felt calm. It was reflected in the tone of her voice; light and businesslike, as if talking about something as mundane as the weather.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><del># 21<br/>Details:[2d6+10 (5 6)]</del></div></div>