Angry, frustrated, quite simply pissed at, or about everything going on, the warlock found that she couldn't sleep. So quietly as possible she had slipped out of bed, dressed in jeans and her favored hoodie, and then she slipped out of her apartment, and into the dark of night.

She took to the late night streets of the marketplace with an ease that came with living the majority of her life in the busy city of New York, and two of them in Rhy'din. She weaved through people with no issues, and took turns and alleyways with a confident step, working her way towards dock side, where sometimes she came to use the empty and abandoned warehouses to blow off some magical steam. She wasn't sure if it was one of those nights yet or a night for just getting out and taking a walk, but there she was.

She made quick work of the distance between the market place and the docks, as she had come to discover many different ways and shortcuts. Soon enough the air grew damp, and scent of saltwater hung heavy in the air. As she moved further the sound of water crashing on docks, boats and the shore could be heard as well. As she went, she pulled in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, as she found comfort in the docks, and water in general.

Soon enough the cobbles beneath her feet turned from cobbles to the wood of the docks, which were still alive, despite the dark of night. As before, she weaved her way through the throngs of laborers, dock workers, and ship crewmembers. There was one thing that was different this time though, she kept her hand on the horn blade that she wore always on her hip. There were only a couple of people that she nodded to or greeted, but apart from them, she kept quiet the time she spent with her worn sneakers slapping against the wood.

When she turned off of the docks, it was abrupt, and up street that had a line of warehouses on either side. She counted as she went, seemingly looking for a certain one, When she finally reached the one with a big black eighty-nine painted on the side, she came to a stop, glanced behind her to make sure that there was no one behind her, then nudged the door, which rattled loudly, before she slipped through it, and into the warehouse. Not that it was visible in the dark, but she knew that there was evidence on the walls of the warehouse of how she released steam, in the form of blackened paint, and darkened and soot covered patches of wall.

The scent of fake pine and cinnamon pervaded the air, She didn't think nor worry about it. The warehouse had always been empty, she didn?t think that it would ever change.

She rolled her shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and brought her hand up. A couple seconds later, sparks leapt and lucked at her skin, before a ball of condensed lighting about the size of an orange, hovered above her hand. She watched it for a moment, before she wiggled her fingers, and fire, blue in color and hot flared up, briefly engulfing her her hand, before it condensed down and came to be about twice the size of the ball before. Then with a quick jerk of her hand and a little concentration, the fire was left, mid-air. She grinned. Mach would be proud, possibly a little concerned, because well fire. She had been practicing ever since she discovered that she could conjure a flame in Mach?s lab of sorts in his apartment. She had spent a lot of the time she practiced, in fact, in that very warehouse.

Experimenting with her ability to conjure up fire, had, over the past month or so, brought a deeper understanding to her as to how both the fire, and her electricity worked. This in turn meant that she was slowly gaining an understanding on just how to control both. Eventually, she hoped to not break light bulbs, or make items that used electricity, act all screwy whenever she got angry, or felt other... extreme emotions.

For several moments, she let the fireball hover in the air, before she simply let it dissipate, and left herself in darkness. Somewhere in the distance, she heard voices, too distant to make them out, she merely checked over her shoulder, just to be safe. She didn't exactly want to be caught, even if it was just an empty warehouse. Once the voices faded, her attention shifted back to her hands again. Once more flames flared to life in her hand. A flick of her wrist sent it flying for the wall.

She didn't realize her mistake until instead of connecting with the wall, and becoming a shower of sparks that died out, it hit something, and flames began to leap up, hungrily devouring a..... a Christmas tree. A fake one. In fact, there were rows and rows of fake trees from what she could tell. Her stomach sank when she realized the fire was growing quickly in volume and size as it was already spreading and moving to the tree beside it.

"S***."

In seconds, she was scrambling to grab what looked to be one of those blankets used to cushion things when transporting them, and moved to attempt to beat the flames with that, and smother them out. And for a moment, it looked like it was going to work. But there's a funny thing that happens when plastic burns. It melts, and sticks to anything it can. Most of the time while it was still flaming. That is what happened to her, as just when she thought it may actually work, the blanket caught as well. With a string of words that were less than lady like, she dropped the blanket and started stepping back. With a lack of her trying to put it out, the fire grew again, and by the time she had reached the rattling door, she had lost count of how many of the trees has caught. There were too many, too quickly. Smoke filled the air, and grew as the fire did.

Her eyes moved, scanning the rest of the warehouse in hopes that it was just the trees that would burn. Guilt rolled through her when she realized that the other half was filled with boxes, wooden and cardboard, all marked for delivery, and labeled. It looked like most of the contents, no probably all of them were Christmas items. As if it just had to get worse.
Unsure of what to do, as she didn't believe that she would be able to go and get help, and them get back in time to stop the fire before everything inside was burned, she just stood, and watched the way the fire devoured things. Fifteen minutes passed this way, and by this time nearly all of the trees were ablaze, and several boxes had caught. Smoke was thick in the air, making it hard to breathe. Some where in the near distance she heard someone yelling about a fire, and figured that was her cue to leave. She turned on her heel, and fled towards the warehouse door, only stopping long enough to yank it open and stepped out. With the fresh supply of oxygen from her doing this, the fire flared again, as she turned, and took off back down towards the dock, intent on putting as much distance between her and the fire. In fact she was so focused on doing so that she wasn't exactly watching where she was going.

This resulted in her colliding with one of the dock workers that had been shouting about the fire. It felt like she collided with a wall of bricks. The worker grunted, and immediately put his hands out to steady her as she stumbled back. For a moment, she stood, frozen in place, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, and focused on him.

"Hey lady. You okay?"
"I-I'm Fine. Thanks. I'm j-just in a rush. I uh.. I gotta go! I'm uh.. I'm gonna be late. For a t-thing. Sorry for almost running you over!"

Before the man could say anything else, she ducked out from under his steadying hands and took off. Puzzled by her frazzled appearance and frantic vague words, he watched her go, before he turned and headed back to the warehouse to help work at getting help to deal with the fire. There were flames now sprouting out of the windows of the warehouse. It was clear that there was not going to be much of anything salvaged once the blaze was put out.

She didn't stop running until her feet hit the cobbles, and the whole entire time, she didn't look back.