Who| Rose & OPEN
What| Do you ever get so mad you decide to blow up a castle?
Where| The castle.
When| Mid Week Three, during the rain.
Warnings/Notes| Collapsing architecture, mentions of animal death, death by lightning. Rose is going to be dead set on what she's doing, pushed by the influence from having been around the sword while Dave tried to draw it on top of how much she hated the arena already. She will die in this post at the hands of a Gamemaker punishment. If you want to say your character was away from the castle while it happened to keep them safe, that's fine! You can also have them try to talk to/dissuade her, but take note that she won't be persuaded and will likely keep doing what she's doing in the meanwhile. She will not deliberately hurt or kill anyone, though; any injury you may want your character to receive will have to be unintended/indirect from the other chaos happening.

Like a stuck piece of clockwork that's suddenly had a jam removed, all Rose's anger and frustration resolve into a flow of action. It's simple. Why keep playing along? Why hold back? Why follow the rules? She never cared to before. Damn everything, and damn the threat of death. She was never here to try to win.

So she flies from the forest she's been in for too long, from the voices (her mother, her friends, her dear dead cat) that keep tormenting her more as the days crawl by, toward the biggest target she knows. She wanted to investigate this castle first thing when she got here; it's only fitting she should make it there again at the end.

Licks of flame catch the leaves as she brushes past and out above the tree tops, then the swarming flutter of bats. It's raining above and somehow it feels right to have the world around her rage too, as artificially dramatic as it all is, manufactured by distant, unseen hands. She's mad about that too, really, mad about everything from the stupid wizard robe flapping around her in the wind to the most choking fact that she is in this world with nothing she can do about it. She doesn't expect this to undo everything, no. A part of her knows full well she is marching right into the death that was foreseen for her two weeks past.

She can never land for long once she's there. The banks of the moat crumble and slide under her feet, and rats teem up out of hidden burrows or surrounding grasses to come and nip at her ankles. Their pestilence won't be fast enough, and she doesn't stay long enough for them to eat her alive; she ends up working from the air by necessity.

None of it is ever static. The bats still come, screeching in the air, and they get shot through whenever they dare come in from the wrong angle. The castle itself almost seems to attack her. As she fires off bolts of purple-pink magic to blast apart the stonework and set chunks of wood alight, crumbling sections try to fall on her. She dodges towers and tumbling walls. She gets cut by shards of stained glass windows caught on the wind. She never manages to tear the whole thing down, and doesn't get so near as she would have liked.

In the end, it's singular and decisive: a bolt of lightning catches one risen, metal knitting needle, the stand-in she's wielded for wands, and strikes her down dead.