<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/06/1Seiyuri.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Angela (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sUficS9x7T6kj6rN5vrXNwxZMpXrmOI_1FT83lN0q8c/edit)</strong></span><br/>Name: Angela<br/>Location: Burning Man<br/>Tagging: Headquarters: Gymnasium<br/><br/>Angela finished her twenty laps on the treadmill, then sprinted another ten. The sweat, oh the sweat. To say the sweat was pouring from her was an understatement bordering on the criminal. More to say that the sweat flowed from her in rivulets, racing with the understanding that reaching the floor and treadmill beneath her was to achieve enlightenment in a holy Mecca. Finally, breathing too hard to continue counting evenly, Angela dropped the pace for cool down, reaching for the towel around her neck. She was trying to tire herself beyond the temptations, the urges, the passions and panting needs that have raged within her since the ritual that summoned the tentacle beast began. Scandal stirred her in ways that could not be holy.<br/><br/>Angela wiped her brow, brushing the bangs pasted to her forehead to the side. She thought of Scandal's diminishing clothing, and the skin it offered to the eyes. The curve of her shoulder, the stretch of her neck as she bends it to look down along her thigh, how soft her cheek had been as they had rubbed together during their dance. Grahh!, she growled as she ramped the speed up again, apparently she was tired enough to not control her thoughts, but not enough to avoid the temptations.