Mischief-making

"Well... ah. I think the drill's almost over. Anywhere particular you might want to hit before all the Mistlings are dead?"

Ade shrugged. The courtyard had been shined spotless, leaving them with a small variety of options. "Guess we're just gonna have to see for ourselves," She said. The academy had conducted similar drills in the past, but never before had she cleaned the house. Er, courtyard.

She emerged from the bathroom, a heavy weight lifting from her shoulders as she abandoned the cluttered closet. It was far too hot in there.

She was, however, a bit bewildered to see nearly a dozen mistlings prowling through the vacant hallways.

"How the hell did this happen?" She bellowed, the glances of the petulant beasts falling onto her facade.

There was a moment of utter silence, the group rivals taunting one another. Nothing moved—even the steady rise and fall of their chests was barely visible amongst the suspense. It was as though the mistlings waited for their attacker's pitiful move, whereas the two readied themselves for the inevitable challenge.

Thwip

Ade was never very patient.

She looked at Amadeus, as if to pour out all of her soon-to-be apparent intentions with one sideways glance.

Then, she ran.

She bolted down the hallway, giggling madly as she sent her poisoned darts soaring in every direction imaginable. Some nailed mistlings, while others fluttered to the ground. She wasn't necessarily aiming; she was still trying to run forward, mind you,

The two burst into an open space, striding towards the Forges as the other mistlings trailed them with clashing jaws.

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Table by Kyvestra.