The plaza outside the Environmental Services Agency building was as busy as always, bustling with a modest crowd of people who had the audacity to go about their day as if nothing was wrong. From behind the goggles, aether signatures blurred about in various hues, their owners very much alive and well.
(So much for Armageddon.)
Befuddled, Dr. Thorncroft grabbed the device from her pocket, allowing the repetitive sound of immanent danger to mock her openly.
“I wonder what’s setting off the Breadbox, then?” she asked, reviewing the readings for the umpteenth time. “Maybe my magic is just going haywire...”
Bradley watched, all three-foot-four-inches of him looking up at her with nothing short of silent reassurance.
“Yes, I know that’s impossible,” she huffed, waving the Breadbox around for a stronger connection, “but unless you have another explanation--”
She paused, finding her frantic gestures rewarded: the Breadbox’s detection of corrupt magical energy proved to be stronger in one direction.
Dr. Thorncroft clicked her tongue and pressed onward.
2nd Mar 2021
The face of an angel, indeed. ( o u o )