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[h3][color=CAC100]Anselmo Date 2353-08-14
            Location: The Wild World, Outpost ZT-141, 'Treehouse' [/color][/h3]
As the rest of their band assembled, ranging from a beastmaster to mechanic, from soldier to...  Spook's thoughts went full stop as her mirrored goggled reflected upon the Prophet, Salvador Vargaas.  Something was off about him, and it certainly wasn't his insanity.  He had something different going on behind those eyes, she could tell at a glance that he had a facade of sorts to keep up.  She moved on quickly, scanning the rest of the group before he noticed her staring.  All in all, she felt confident about the group, and thought they could hold together when the going got rough.  Soon enough though, Jake called out for their attention, essentially giving Spook's internal thoughts voice with scary accuracy.  He was interrupted swiftly and their attention was pulled to the horizon.  Two minutes to the 'Event,' as it was being called.

The masked figure crossed her arms and counted the seconds internally, expecting something beyond belief.  Part of her expectation became reality.

The clouds were ripped from the sky as what could only be described as a gravity well formed, before exploding into a beam of light that shone off her mask.  In response, she could feel part of herself clawing to the surface, demanding to be set free this instant lest it kill her to escape.  Spook recognized the feeling after a long moment, and after a short internal debate, quickly moved to the back of the group and pulled something from underneath her cloak with her right hand and jabbed it into her thigh.  Soon, she felt the longing receded into the deepest corners of her mentality to remain dormant until further notice, though a reddening spot in her leg gave away that something was at least partially wrong.  She could live with blaming it on a loose edge.

[color=CAC100]"That's... phenomenal,"[/color] is all she said, voice filled with a certain wonder.