The Spiritual Blowout
The games for the captainship endured for a collage of days, nights, comings and goings, erasing the sense by which time thence tocked, simulating fissures betwixt those adhering to the rules of the game, and those aware of necessary breathing protocol. The shimmering wills of the contestants great and small bloomed in a cornucopia of twilights, the byproducts of ardent frenzy caked onto seemingly permanent grins as the lights of days grew strong to reveal teams lost in their sauces.
The blurs across their hearts surged forth as the games endured, the mixings within lifting moods into new atmospheric contexts and leaving single shoes forever forgotten on the sparkling parts of river banks. Thick situations compounded their complexities to points without premise or precedent; still further forth their natures pressed.
By the time the instruments were consulted, a dire spiral already had an ineffable grip the acrobatic mutual destiny. After one investigator lost all control of their chakra content, the erstwhile throng had no option other than a jarring sort of pyrotechnic surrender. The mood erupted in just such a way. Sparks issued. Sounds flew, sense melted, and everything began carrying everything else till any hope of anything was curious at best. Utterly lost in the throes of mutuality were all aboard the games; and in some cases the effects were permanent.
It took several weeks for the aftermath to take its course. At such a time some attention was directed to some of the damage caused, but the spiritual health was still at dangerously high levels, and the nature of the repair could not help but reflect the arm-in-arm wake of reality tremors still aglow from the competition. Things were somewhat fixed, and the looks cast betwixt the participating faces would forever reflect the size of TD +14.