#gore #verylight #fire [There are no cameras. No one will ever see. You, the reader, do not see this, not really. You, the Tavros, you see this. The wind blows gently around you as you look up at the journal factory. It lives in what was once a vast meadow and is surrounded by trees to block the view for the commercial sectors that have to exist too close to it. The false forest is still a touch scorched from the recent explosion a few months back. You lost some good friends in that explosion. And now? It will imminently burn down. Seventy eight trolls will die. That is what you were told. You called in the danger, but it wasn't taken seriously. All that there's left to do is to wait. You can't do anything until the fire's started. Or rather, you don't want to risk being the one at fault in the first place. The wind carries his voice. She wishes you true luck. The wind carries the birds above, circling the factory. They are your eyes. @godCat rests upon your shoulder. A friend. The squirrels, the mice, the deer, the animals that have managed to eke out a living in this place, they prepare. Your head is pounding. You're stretched thin. Even like this, not all are With you. The ones that aren't, you've convinced to stick around regardless. Silence. Maybe it was all just a bad joke. The wind kicks up around you. Silence. Just a jerk online saying things to get a reaction. Sillence. A songbird cries out. The wind pushes you forwards. The spark has been lit. It has been spotted through a window on the far side. You don't even think to smother it. The journal factory will burn down. Seventy eight trolls will die. Fate can only be denied so far. You run, faster than you ever remember running. You're not sure your feet are even hitting the asphalt. A small legion of woodland critters charges forth, descending upon the factory. You hit the front doors faster than should be possible. They're locked. Of course they are. You step back then raise your arm, palm facing the doors. Gcat disappearifies them and you rush in. Outside, you coordinate deer smashing windows, birds gathering nesting materials about the building, mice and squirrels finding any way in they can... Your head is pounding. The first thing you do is pull the nearest fire alarm you see. It hadn't even been going off yet. You hope that just that will be enough to get a good chunk of people out quicker. The animals pouring into the building make quick work in escorting (read: harassing and corraling) employees out of the building. For now, the stairs and hallways and doors are enough, but they're quickly growing crowded in the confusion. You practically fly up the stairs. Your eyes outside report smoke. A concerning amount. Running. Running. Running. Gcat teleports you past people headed down the stairs. A few floors up, you can finally smell the smoke. The staircase is growing crowded. The mice open windows and the birds manage to draw attention to the soft landing pads they've created outside. People are jumping, and screaming, and landing fine. The wind takes you further and further up, you can see the blaze before you- the wind stops. You stop. You nearly ran headfirst into a beam. You direct Gcat to remove it, and it's gone. Your animal friends haven't gotten this far up. You wouldn't ask them to brave the flames. You can hear shouts. People are stuck, trapped, afraid. You swallow hard. The wind behind you picks back up. You pull out an oogonibomb and crush it in your hand. The goop trails down your forearm and drips onto the ground below. A capybara-esque creature, but with far too many legs, scuttles out. It looks around the blazing room, looks back and you, and nods. You move on as it starts spraying water from its tear ducts, dousing the flames where it can. The shouts are getting louder. There are people up here. Trapped. They need you. It's hot in here, but the wind at your back wicks off your sweat and keeps you cool. This building is a maze, yet you travel it like you know the way perfectly. Pure instinct guides you. When burning rubble falls to block your path, Gcat warps it away and you continue. You are still managing so, so many beasts. Your head is pounding. You come to a split in the hallway. Left or right. You look left. You look right. Nothing obvious. You hear a call for help from the right. You look left. You chew on your lip. They call again. You hesitate. You hear rubble falling. You go right. You soon come to a room fully ablaze. Smoke curls around, clogging the air, yet when you inhale your lungs stay clean. The smoke parts around you as you enter. Someone is calling for help. You call back. You let them know they are heard. They're buried. She's buried. Something in your stomach twists. As you step towards the center of the room the wind follows. The windows slam open, the smoke is blown out, but you don't notice. You wave your hand and Gcat disappears the rubble crushing the stranger. You grab her. She can't stand. You're out the window. You float down gently, landing on a giant nest. The building is totally lit up. Firetrucks and professionals have arrived and are beginning to douse the flames. The journal factory will be lost. People will have to continue using Chittr. You recall all the beasts you can to safety. They've done so, so much. Your head is pounding. The wind guides you guide the stranger towards the medical responders and help her onto a stretcher. You don't catch her name. The factory is beginning to collapse into itself. The air about you is silent. You are winded. When did that slight sprinkle begin? A warm season rain, sticky and hot and humid. You are gone before the flames are. You've done what you could. The adrenaline is dying down and you can feel your cuts and scrapes and bruises and burns. The news reports on this. The journal factory has burnt down. Fourteen trolls died. The prompt response of the firefighters and the fortuitous rainfall are credited for the relatively low loss of life, though many workers make reports about inconceivable wildlife behavior. Investigations are undergoing into what started the fire and the fire code violations found. Arson is not out of the question. You haven't seen any of this yet. You go to your friend's wriggling day party.]