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[center][b]Interactions/Mentions:[/b] Sloane [@Atrophy] Amara [@Blizz][/center]

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So this was the correct possible future.  What a fucking shit show.

Lynn of course saw this as a possibility a few moments ago but to her, this was a false future and she paid it very little attention.  In the great scheme of possible predictions, those with a frequency as low as this were barely worth exploring, remembering, or mentioning.  You would have thought Lynn would’ve learned this painful lesson ten years ago.  You would have thought that the blood on her hands would have always forced her to be more open about what might happen.  Yet what good would it do if it was someone like Sloane hearing that prediction?  

Lynn did not have long to dwell on these thoughts.  The building was on fire and Amara had arrived on time to save them, just as that future predicted.  What happens from here is a bit of a mystery as she did not pay enough attention to it during her venture forward, but she knew one thing.  She needed to get to Lila, she needed to stop what was about to happen, and she knew she was going to be too late.

  Lynn followed Amara’s to the letter as she retreated from the building, the army she commanded was incredibly versatile and her use here was not only unorthodox but effective at the same time.  When Lynn hit the ground, her eyes immediately turned to Lila just in time to see her back convulsing underneath the clothes.  It was too late to stop this, and Lynn could only close her eyes to shield herself from the brief exposure to the coming hex.  Lynn heard the rip off the skin, she felt the warm spray of blood and viscera splash across her, and then she heard the maidens' voice taunt Vashti to follow her.  The footsteps she heard marked the departure of Lila towards a future of uncertainty.  A future dominated by a struggle and agony, and a future that would lead to a confrontation.

That would come after their group survived today, and Lynn knew they all would have a part to play if they wanted to survive.  Lynn, for example, needed to not be a distraction for once.  She needed to not be a part of the fight, she needed to trust her friends and trust in their abilities.  If everyone had to worry about keeping poor, useless, and vulnerable Lynn out of danger they would not be able to fight effectively.  And this hurt.  Lynn rarely lamented her lack of ability anymore, it was a sore spot back in the day and she remembered all too well that it was something that nearly got her, Lila, and Jasper killed.  Yet it did nothing to help the feeling that she was truly worthless to the coven.  She predicted that 8th street was going to attack, a moment before the attack actually happened.  She predicted that Kari was more than likely alive, but could not narrow it down any further than that.

Lynn was a burden to her coven, and she was only around because their only other seeker was presumed to be dead.  That’s it.  That’s the only reason she was invited back. Lynn knew that everyone mostly tolerated her, and this was beginning to weigh heavily on her.  Her best friend was turning into a giant bird, and she was being chased by an alligator whore, and here Lynn was being delegated to Amara to find a safe place for her to ride out the fight.

[color=F08080]“No, no I,”[/color] Lynn started before she swallowed the desire to cry, [color=F08080]“i can get to safety, Amara help the others.”[/color]. Lynn flashed her eyes to the possible future for a brief moment before she returned to the presence and turned away from the small group and began to run away from the fight, away from Lila, away from Sloane and Amara, and away from the crushing realization of it all.  Her footsteps took her to the far side of the property.  She could still see the fight but she was far enough away from it all to be considered safe.  She leaned her back on a tree and slid down, watching the fight as she did.

And then she started crying.  Crying at the thoughts of her friends being in trouble, crying at the realization that she was worthless to the coven, and crying at the fact that the best thing that had ever happened to her might not be dead, but also might not be the same person she remembered.  And she cried some more.