[ Pretty impressive, Mako thinks, that he was right where the butterflies landed, that he was ready. Like he figured out the pattern, which is also sort of what Mako is trying to do. There is an electric sort of tension in the dark air. It makes Mako's fingers twitch by his sides, useless, because his fire is gone with the sun and he's more vulnerable like this in the heavy darkness.
De-escalate, then. Diffuse the tension flowing on the breeze. Mako lifts a casual shoulder, looks up at the distant-lit trail of a butterfly. ]
Seems like you figured out their patterns. They drop these things every time they land?
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De-escalate, then. Diffuse the tension flowing on the breeze. Mako lifts a casual shoulder, looks up at the distant-lit trail of a butterfly. ]
Seems like you figured out their patterns. They drop these things every time they land?