EmulatonStromenkiin

The Quarkbeast was unable to tell this.

The Quarkbeast, having no idea what was going on, ate the urn.

"Okay," there was a pause, then Alex's clothes were on fire.

The Quarkbeast ate their jetpacks, then started to sniff the urn

Sophie Foster. What happens if you set fire to the sun?

The Quarkbeast kept trying to eat the jetpacks.

sadly, no. Had school when our allotted time was.

Keeper of the Lost Cities. What is your favorite non-sanderson author?

Balance turned to the side and opened the room with his key. It was small, but serviceable, with a bed in one corner and a table with two chairs near it. He waited for Aln and Folorian to enter, then locked the door after a wary glance outside. "Please, sit," he invited the two, gesturing to the chairs. He sat on the bed, keeping his cloak on. "I didn't quite understand what you were talking about in the hall, but I would be interested to hear more after." He held up the coin. "I'm not sure how to do this, but I'll try." He closed his eyes, and grasped the coin tightly. There was something in it, something similar yet different from what he could sense with his framesight. Something he could ... pull out. He did, and felt a store of potential come into him. Knowing that he was somehow supposed to store memories, he experimented a bit with pushing in and pulling out small ones, until he was reasonably sure of the mechanics. Thinking back, he remembered the events that he wished to share. Nightmares. Pain. His fault. Destruction His eyes flew open, waking from a long slumber. Unfamiliar faces, all around. He reached within, instinctively grasping something that was not there before. A heartbeat. A light exploded, rippling across his sight. When he could see again, all he saw were lines of blue giving shape to everything, wires outlining what he assumed were objects, buildings, people. But there was something wrong. The lines kept bending, twisting. Trying to change to an orientation that was the same yet different, but being forced back by some thing or being he couldn’t see. He strained to see more, trying to understand, but darkness crashed over him and dragged him down to sleep. He was watching from an upstairs window, a busy rushing street below. There were occasional glimmers of blue, but he had learned to ignore them by now, after practicing for so long. Suddenly, there was a warping, a bending. His vision fragmented, showing two possibilities. The house across from him, looking like it had been bombed, and that same house, completely whole like it had been moments before. An empty street covered with potholes, and a full rushing one. Another twist, and everything was back to the way it was, whole and rushing. He was walking down a sidestreet, cloak billowing in the rushing wind. Without warning, there was a massive tearing sound behind him. He spun around, instinctively summoning a wireframe sword to his hand. What he saw made him freeze. There was a jagged tear in reality, showing the same place but different. Cleaner, nicer. He stood, dumbfounded, as the tear slowly sealed itself up, leaving an empty street and a lone man on a porch giving him a strange look. Slowly, he dismissed the sword, and turned to continue on. Another side street, this one with many people. There was a bombed building, a burnt and empty shell remaining. Once again, there was a tearing sound, and a rift opened. He could see through it, and the building was whole on the other side. People passed though the space of the rift as if it was not there. He concentrated with that sixth sense that had manifested as sight at first. The wireframes overtook his vision once again, and he saw the rift, just as he might see any other object. It was straining, bulging outwards, then it began to shrink, and shrink, until only a point remained. A point which refused to go away. The wireframes faded away from his sight, balanced between his other senses once again. This person he saw, it was not right. He smelt faded, and sounded distant. There was a tingling across his skin that he had come to associate with the anomalies, the warps in reality. Cautiously, he concentrated and saw the wireframes. As usual, most had the subtle straining, twisting, warping that he had come to expect of this world. But the wires of his man? They did not move. Or did they? He saw flickers, and realized with a nervousness that the lines kept fading, like they did not want to exist. He dropped the framesight, and continued to watch the man at the bar. Gasping, he opened his eyes and shot to his feet, then dropped the coin to the table between Aln and Folorian. "It is done," he wheezed, and he sank back to the bed with his head in his hands. @Rushu42 @mathiau

cool. I say easier, but that is just relative.

Alex got in. he was location scattered, but nowhere near as bad as the skiens.

I am cheerfully confused by myself. To an extent, I understand other people's emotions, but not my own. I have also found that for me it is easier to make friends with those of the opposite gender(girls).

biking. It's fun. What is your native language?

Reading. hehehehe. BOOKS! What is your favorite non-sanderson book series?

Granted, I try to do that anyway. You are now purple. I wish I never got hungry or had to eat.

Chemistry or physics. I enjoy the math What's your favorite subject in school?

I'm afraid I cut the Cheese. THEY BROKE IT!

Granted. all your devices are slow. I wish for the Create mod in Minecraft.

I guess the first one? didn't read beyond the second. What is your favorite pastime?

granted, your internet is now really slow. I wish for Minecraft

absolutely.

Granted, you get a jar that holds a single cookie that is replenished whenever removed(saves energy). As your bane, You can no longer smell(as in, with your nose) I wish for more people at my school to read Sanderson so that I can talk with them about it.

Dwayne (who gets the reference?) What is the longest series - book number wise - that you have ever read?

I'm okay with this, as its a book. Granted *hands cookie* It is non-hemalurgic. (TUBA for the Win!) Your bane is, you loose your sense of taste. I wish for the house my family is renovating to be sold so we recoup all costs and gain a nice profit.