[CANON RAZ] Waiting.

[purpose_of_the_goggles]

Raz paces in the parking lot of Whispering Rock Summer Camp. He's chosen this spot specifically for the Psitanium alloy lying underneath the surface. Ford Cruller, his mentor, had mentioned that Psitanium made psychics more psychic; frankly, he needs all the help he can get on this.

He fights down a momentary feeling of panic. It's been washing over him on and off ever since he discovered the burnout in his brain; not so much for the loss of psychic abilities, per se, so much as the fact that it could mean the end of his Psychonauts career before it started. It was so unfair to lose his chance after he'd worked so hard and done so much to make it in. His career would be over before it'd even started, and it'd be back to circus oblivion for him. He shudders at the thought.

He taps his foot. Bakura should be here any moment.

Comments

[milleniumspirit.livejournal.com]

"Certainly," he says, evidently a little offput by the response to his question. He walks over to the cart, peering inside.

[razthepsynaut.livejournal.com]

Raz leads the way. The inside, much larger than the outside, contains a pretty normative circus. Bakura, in many respects is lucky; a year or two back and this setting would've felt a lot more hostile. But Raz has since dealt with that particular personal demon, so the circus remains just a circus.

More noticable is the dark burnt spot on the main tent, where a number of clowns and acrobats are standing around, surveying the damage.

Raz walks up to them. "Any luck?"

One of the clowns shrugs. "Dunno. It's pretty damaged. Could be problems." He emphasizes by honking his nose.

Raz sighs. "Great." He turns to Bakura. "Wanna see the damage inside?"

[milleniumspirit.livejournal.com]

Bakura looks around, surprised by the odd construction of metaphor. Ah, well.

He turns back to Raz. "That would be helpful, yes," he says, entirely politely.

[razthepsynaut.livejournal.com]

Raz leads the way into the tent. There are figments of his imagination scattered liberally about, mainly focusing on his life in the circus and his life as a Psychonaut. The basic structural integrity of the tent is fine, as does the equipment. A large podium sits in the back of the tent, looking melted and burned. So too does the large icon behind it, shaped exactly like a Psychonauts badge. A few clowns dressed like firefighters are discussing the best ways to repair the area.

There's a few undamaged spots. But the damage still seems prety extensive, and Raz looks pretty crestfallen about it.

"Guess that's what psychic burnout looks like," he mutters.

[milleniumspirit.livejournal.com]

Bakura winces a little, looking around. "It seems rather unpleasant."

[razthepsynaut.livejournal.com]

Raz nods. "Yeah. It stinks. They really think I can recover from this?"

One of the clowns mutters something to the effect of "Oh ye of little faith," but such commentary goes unnnoticed by the rather tunnel-visioned Raz.

[milleniumspirit.livejournal.com]

"I've got a few effects that could probably help," offers Bakura, "but I'm not sure how much, with damage like this."

[razthepsynaut.livejournal.com]

Raz looks anxious. "Anything's gotta help a little. I'm desperate," he pleads. And he is, really. He LIKES being psychic. He LIKES being a Psychonaut.

[milleniumspirit.livejournal.com]

"Let's start small then, shall we," says Bakura in a way that's not really a question.

In a single smooth motion, he draws a card from the deck holder on his belt, holding it with two fingers while he slams the palm of his other hand against its back. "Gemini Elves! Come forth!"

And, with a momentary burst of static light and noise, a pair of elves (http://www.yugioh-cards.net/Merchant2/graphics/00000001/db2/DB2-EN094.jpg) coascele out of nothingness.