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1
Elysium / Re: way of the strong -- Ascendants memorial
« on: March 03, 2020, 11:40:35 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
THERE'S SOMETHING TRAGIC ABOUT YOU, SOMETHING SO MAGIC ABOUT YOU
Sometimes, life felt circular: he'd find himself drifting across random plains, traversing across foreign territories, and think for a moment — just a moment — that his wanderings from Eden had never ended. The landscapes would blur together, melt and warp, and it was all too easy to think that everything in between then and now had been smoke and mirrors. In his worst moments, he could convince himself that it had been; that there had been no Ascendants, no redemption, no Margaery and Suite and Hazel. That he was waking from a dream so real he'd lost track of himself once more, had disappeared into the void for days.

And then he would turn his head, look away from the endless fields, and see Hazel's flashing eyes or catch an echo of her vanilla-honey-cinnamon scent or feel her reaching for him through the bond, and reality would set in again. Eden was gone, and so were the Ascendants, but it had all happened. And they hadn't left their home behind in smoke and crumbled ruins, this time; they hadn't left alone. They'd left together, found their memories together, were traveling together — and that was the difference from then. That was what set it apart.

Bastille wasn't sure who had suggested that they drift back towards their old home. A whispered notion, exchanged in the middle of the night as they camped outside the shattered remains of Eden. It was cathartic, visiting; why not return to the Starpool, the tree? They had more ghosts to lay to rest, more memories to let go of before they moved on again. It was a joke at first, something to entertain when they grew bored in one place or another, but somehow Bast found himself standing in the once-familiar fields, looking out over flowers and flowers and more flowers.

He hadn't really missed it, personally.

He might argue that there wasn't much to miss, really; he'd taken Hazel and the coven with him, carried Margy and Suite's memories with him, and had few happy memories locked away in the Observatory. Perhaps he should reflect fondly on Hazel's wrath, Rad's pills, or Starry's death? Swaths of weeks that were merely indistinct hazes in his recollection, too muddled by substance to remember? Ungodly stress and swarms of members he half-liked? No, thank you. He was content to let mostly everything about the Ascendants lie.

But still — he was drawn to the Starpool, itching with the silent desire to see the hanging pendants, and he was forced to admit that perhaps there were still those he missed and those he wanted to say goodbye to properly. Just maybe, he hadn't hated everything.

He was surprised to find one of the few things — individuals — that he didn't hate waiting for him beneath the ancient trees, body stooped and nearly foreign with time but her aura still bright and easily identifiable. For a second Bastille just stopped, blinking once (he never could be too sure that Pollie's vision wasn't infecting his own), before he let out a snort of disbelief. Of course it would be Rin here, somehow barring him from being his most destructive self when she had no conceivable right to still be serving such a role.

His gaze flickered, skittering up along her wall of names and names and names, and his head tilted slightly. His own pendant still hung heavily from his necklace, clinking against his French coin as he ambled lazily closer, and he noted with some amusement that Rin had managed to record some names that he knew he should know but didn't. Dedicated, that one. She always had been, hadn't she?

"Why, Rin, I didn't realize you cared so much," he commented idly from behind her, evidently not in the least bit concerned about giving her a proper introduction or much explanation for his presence. It was hard to tell if he was even really there, living or not: he still looked widely the same as always, but there was just something faintly indistinct about him, something timeless. Or, more acutely, deathless. Not quite a ghost, not quite living. Evidently still not possessing much class. "I would have thought you'd have tried to scrub me from your memories. I'm touched, really."
THERE'S SOMETHING BROKEN ABOUT THIS, I MIGHT BE HOPING ABOUT THIS

2
Coding Corner / Re: ✧ BOUNCE BACK — testing & chat
« on: March 03, 2020, 11:40:13 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.   ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

3
Elysium / Re: GANJA BURNS | no muse open thread challenge
« on: September 24, 2018, 11:29:31 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
"Teams are for cowards," he announced, ignoring the strange feeling of vague discomfort and creeped-out-ness that always accompanied hearing Peri called 'Frenchie'. Maybe Moon did it on purpose. He didn't seem bothered by the discussion of his potential servitude either, and he grinned lazily, "Everyone for themselves. I'll accept Moon and Peri's terms." A pause. "Only rule is that no one leaves the Observatory."
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

4
Elysium / Re: KISS FROM A ROSE || giving out roses
« on: September 24, 2018, 11:22:10 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
Bastille has nothing personal against roses. Sure, they remind him distinctly of Margy, but those memories are not tinged with negativity; on the off day, he might see a rose and think of Rosie, of baby blue eyes just like his own staring down at him just the once before she was gone, but even that memory was dulled and faded with time. He could look back on that day and feel nothing, as if he was watching it happen to a stranger — could wonder, absently, where Rosie was these days and find that he didn't really care a whole lot. She wasn't his mother, not really. She did not carry her souls in the same manner as he did. She was... different. Foreign. Unfamiliar in her cruelty. If not for her eyes he wouldn't have thought anything of it.

Today it was not Peri's roses that brought back the flickering memory of his mother, however. He had stopped beside Moon, idly studying the peculiar roses and contemplating if he should take one to be nice, when he stopped short. The nickname fell from his mouth innocently, but Bast was staring at Moon blankly, briefly taken aback to hear it. Frenchie. His pale stare flickered to Peri and he cringed, slightly; it was all the worse that she did tend to remind him of his mother from time to time, with her light voice and delicacy and French, and the weirdness of that association was multiplied by... well, hearing her called by the same name. It was unnerving, and Bast shook off the vaguely disturbed feeling as he instead just muttered, "Uh, I guess I'll... take one."

He had absolutely on use for the thing, but he suddenly had the impression that if he rejected Peri's offering she would pin him with a look that reminded him far too much of Frenchie and that would just be... too much. Way too much. He was grossed out just thinking about it.
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

5
Elysium / Re: say i told you so || joiner
« on: September 24, 2018, 11:11:30 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
Bastille found himself trailing after Danny without really intending to. He could not pretend that he didn't have an immediately liking for the kid — something about him was just vaguely familiar enough, and he would find himself checking in on the younger feline at random just because. He had stopped trying to question weird draws to others, however, and decided that he wasn't going to think too hard on it; instead he just noted that he saw the flicker of the kitten heading off, and followed to make sure he didn't end up in some bizarre trouble.

"It means hello," he provided as he stopped beside Peri, pale blue stare flickering up from Danny — who had already made himself comfortable, it would seem — to regard this unfamiliar female idly. "French," he clarified, if that was not already known, before giving a lazy shrug. "You can stay as long as you want; we'll show you around and shit. I need to patrol, anyway. I'm Bast, by the way."
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

6
Elysium / Re: entrusted emotions } pendant
« on: September 24, 2018, 11:01:32 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
Bastille was not the greatest in terms of socialization and "bonding" with his "members", so to speak. Sure, he could cite their names and several key factors about them and noticed when they came and went — it was his job — but sometimes he lagged behind the others in actually stopping and getting to know them all on a deeper level. He knew basics, surface level shit, and the deeper things were those that he noticed by watching them go about their days or when something particularly dramatic happened in public. He would admit it; he was still getting used to letting other close to him, still adjusting to the group living requirement that he allow himself to care for so many others at once. There were still some days where he woke up and considered leaving all together, putting this whole "emotions" business behind him.

One thing he was always certain of, however, was ranking. Not just in the sense of the rank system, obviously (it would be a sad day when he didn't even know his own officers), but in the sense of development. Such as one of their newer kiddos, who was undoubtedly a Fireball, sitting in the Observatory playing with... a pendant?

"Whatcha doing?" Bastille questioned in form of greeting, pale blue stare studying it quizzically as he regarded the pendant. It was unmistakably the same stuff of their meteorite shards, likely freshly crafted for the newer member, but Bast was at a loss as to what it was doing here, on his necklace. He didn't seem bothered, per se, but rather skeptical as he added, "Aren't you a Fireball? I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine that."

[ members receive their pendants once they complete training and become observers but shhh we're just gonna pretend someone Made A Mistake and sag can learn ]
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

7
Elysium / Re: FILLING US WITH LIES | o, joining
« on: September 24, 2018, 10:54:09 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
"And I'm Bast," he provided, giving absolutely no warning of his sudden appearance on Moon's other side — the flicker into sight was either a result of teleportation or invisibility, but he offered no answers for guest or Clanmates alike. A burning sensation erupted briefly in his chest as he settled, and he silently muttered in Grimm's general direction, Yeah, yeah, I'll stop using them, fuck. Sure, the aftershocks of his body being forced to heal so drastically were not quite Grimm's fault, but he found that he didn't care. Everything, no matter how indirect, was always Grimm's fault in one way or another. It was only right that he should blame him for this, too.

Pale blue stare roving over this stranger boredly, he got the general impression that it was same old, same old. Greeting, stupid commentary from Moon, a brief tour offer, shitty introductions. He yawned, before adding, "Well, I'm patrolling anyway, so if you'd rather check the damn territory out now you can come with me and I'll show you camp later. Otherwise, one of these idiots can take you back."
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

8
Elysium / Re: the blame you claim || joining
« on: September 24, 2018, 10:41:24 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
"You know, more often meadows are associated with nymphs," he commented from behind this stranger on their lands (possibly the border but Madi couldn't tell, so yolo), voice mild and tone vaguely conversational in that I-might-have-just-startled-you-and-don't-care fashion. There had, in fact, been no approach to give him away: Bastille was abusing his teleportation at a time when he probably should not (his body was only recently recovered from the Pitt's bullshit, and every time he used his powers even a little bit he felt a faint burning in his chest), but he couldn't really bring himself to care. Maybe the gods would humble him for his hubris eventually. Or maybe the gods were dead and he had no cause to stop living his fucking life in peace.

"A locus amoenus, if you will," he continued, pale blue gaze flickering over this stranger with that same indifference, the slightest traces of amusement. He didn't imagine that this kid — who was not too much younger than him, notably, but seemed to be an elder apprentice at most — had any background in Ovid, and therefore there was no point in delving deeper into the references, so instead he just provided, "We do happen to have a couple of self-proclaimed witches wandering about, though. If you're looking for some."
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

9
Elysium / Re: READY OR NOT | SUNHAVEN, BAST NEEDED
« on: September 24, 2018, 01:33:26 AM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
There is a tension there. He can feel the resistance, the reluctance — he knows that he is treading on tentative waters here and can sense the reservations radiating off of Bucky like a tangible blanket settling over his back. Still, though. Roy was dead, and he couldn't simply let things go just because one individual had a bad history with his head. It was unfortunate but necessary, and Bastille could only be relieved that Bucky was willing to cooperate now. There was a beat where he studied the other male, before he nodded and pushed into his thoughts idly, keeping the invasion surface level; just lurking on the surface, letting the thoughts that came to the forefront wash over him without dragging them forward himself.

This isn't a situation like the Asset! Bastille closed his eyes after a moment as Bucky's thoughts flickered across the line, fading in and out as he paid half attention to them, instead choosing to concentrate on the filtering out his thoughts to get to the memories that were steadily rising. He got glimpses of the day, of the patrol, coming through the thoughts, but that one piercing thought seemed to mark the point where things grew hazy. He scowled slightly, stalling, uncertain where this path was leading him; he could feel Bucky's aura shifting, his thoughts growing tense and dark, the memory slipping away and vanishing, something else rising.

"What are you—" he started to say aloud, swearing slightly under his breathe as he realized that he was losing Bucky; the memory was cluttered and confused translating through the mental link as Bastille took a step back, pale blue eyes opening as he shook his head slightly, as if to dislodge the flashes of voices in his head. He almost pulled on Bucky, contemplated breaking into his thoughts just a bit more to yank him out of his own memory's clutches, but knew better than to push; instead he focused on extracting himself, muttering, "You chased the rabbit, dude; come back to us, you're drifting." His voice was low, even; not too urgent or panicked, because he knew better than to start yelling as someone who was lost in their own thoughts.
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

10
Elysium / Re: THOUGHT I KNEW YOU | ""death""
« on: September 24, 2018, 12:50:03 AM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
Things were still hazy, the heady floating sensation only barely rivaled by the utter burning in his veins, the luminescent glow of her golden eyes blurring together with her aura. He pushed up unsteadily as she jerked back in her surprise, blinking as he absently noted the press of other auras and emotions, but he was too caught up in her — in realizing as the fog shifted slightly that his knee-jerk reaction to waking up to her (again) was not his best per se and that there were tears streaking her face, making faint freckles glisten. His chest burned and his throat burned and everything burned as he reached for her, absently, but he realized his mistake a bit more clearly when she slapped him.

"Ow," he sputtered, reaction time terribly delayed; when he caught her wrist it was far too light, and he was spitting out blood (fortunately not quite from her, but rather because he'd already been bloody) as he held onto her, blinking hazily. It didn't quite hurt as much as he might have anticipated, paling in comparison to the flames licking through his body, burning him to ash as they struggled to heal him — he was more surprised than injured, but then she was pulling against him, trying to move away, and he was catching up to the torrent of words out her move as she shuffled backwards.

"Hey, hey, wait," he protested, feeling a flare of desperation at the prospect of losing her already; the bond went warm and tight between them, as if he was holding fast and pulling on it, and through the heat of the fire he was pulling her back towards him by her wrist, struggling to dismiss the sluggishness clinging to him still. The worry and fear — her worry and fear was an aftertaste on the back of his tongue, swept away by her anger at scaring her, and there was a moment where he held her wrist fast and looked at her, crouched on her knees in front of him splattered in blood with messy tears and messier curls. There was a dizzying instant when he realized that she cared, cared more than he ever would have ever expected or deserved, cared in a manner that he could feel digging into him, vibrating through their bond. He could feel her anger but he could also feel just how deeply that raw terror ran and the source of her anger, could feel it as clearly as the agonizing fire working through his chest still.

His lips parted slightly as he exhaled once, staring at her with something like stunned disbelief as he forgot, for a split second, to breathe. His grip on her wrist loosened, faintly, going slack just before it tightened and he was pulled her towards him, heedless of knocking her into Onision on accident as he dragged her forward, his fingers slipping off her wrist. His hands were in her hair a second later as he ducked his head to kiss her through the tang of copper and the smoke in his lungs, the acute sensation of burning. (Fitting, that it should burn — her radiance was too much, too divine, too intense; the force of a goddess was too much for his mortality, even if he knew the flames were a product of his healing.)
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

11
Elysium / Re: ( ❝ . . . rendezvous ❞ — open, joining )
« on: September 19, 2018, 04:06:14 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
Bastille had never really stopped to question much about Echo's life. The memories snaked through him at odd hours, but they never cared the same emotional charge that his other lives did; his memories lacked sensation, in an odd way, coming and going when he found himself staring at another lone wanderer or faced with the grim realities of death. His life was a flat line, apathetic, quiet: group to group, death after death, a steady tide of traveling and training and feel nothing. A brief blimp on the radar when he thought of the Tribe — memories of Dawn and Indi, of the kits — and that was all. It was... almost steading, in a way. Not to have to feel anything when one of his live's took over. To feel the relative blank emotional slate that Echo brought to the table, a stark contrast to Zaniel's daddy issues and Pollie's craziness.

Maybe he should have thought harder. Maybe he could have looked back on the small black kitten who walked in Death from the day he was born, could have questioned the eerie fate of death following in his wake every where he went. He knew his names, the stories that chased after him, that sometimes reached new groups before him; knew they whispered the name Death and applied a legacy that did not actually belong to him. Echo of Death's Call was only one name of name, and there was a darkness in his path, but Bastille knew he was a mere mortal. An unlucky one, maybe. A damned one, certainly.

The simple fact of the matter is that he had accepted the fate he was given and never looked back to ask why, to ask how. There was a burning certainty in his veins that they were all doomed to die around him, just like the past; a morbid daydream of illness and surprise raids and freak accidents. Death was Death.

He arrives on the border paces after Hazel, brushing close to her side without touching her outright, pale blue stare locked on this tiny form. A memory crops up, unbidden: he is reminded instinctively of Indi's runt of the little, of the fray tom who carried a mild temperament and was almost so must nicer than his siblings; he is reminded of laughing when Indi looked at him in disgust and made bets about when he'd die. Bast blinks, and tries not to feel bad for the dark recollection when he greets, quiet, "Hey, kiddo."

[ this got abruptly rushed oops ]
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

12
Elysium / Re: GANJA BURNS | no muse open thread challenge
« on: September 19, 2018, 03:34:39 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
He gives Fey a vaguely scandalized look, pointing out dryly, "I'm not even that much older than you." Well, okay. He was a few months past being a Fireball, but still. Seriously? His gaze swung to Laz and he grinned, shrugging, "A war-war. A destroy everyone else's forts war. All's fair, and shit."
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

13
Elysium / Re: THOUGHT I KNEW YOU | ""death""
« on: September 19, 2018, 03:23:56 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
The air stiffens and is suddenly heavily, almost too heavy to breathe; he can feel her immediately, the way everything shifts just the slightest bit as their distant bond tightens and pulls taut. The heady scent of vanilla fills the clearing, and Echo cocks his head to the side, rolling his eyes. Unimpressed, as usual. They already knew how this went — how many times had he found himself stuck here before, alerted to the fact that it wasn't permanent by the same tell-tale signs? — and the stealth-walker looked annoyed by the wait, as always.

"Ha," Zaniel says, eyes lighting up in the exact manner that said he had nothing good to say, "God, I love waking up to—"

"Shut up," Bastille cuts him off, irritable and— and burning. His chest heats with vicious flames, and it feels like his blood is burning; it's white-hot and uncomfortable, pushing and spreading out from his center as if he still has a heart to pump the molten blood outwards, and he pressed his palm to his chest with a frown. Fuck. That hurts more than it ever had before (usually it was just a slight tang of heat taking over, the fire-poker brand tracing over his neck, his wrists), and he's on his knees before he realizes it, brought down by the force of the fire licking through him.

He tilts his head up, teeth gritted, and finds himself eye-level with Grimm's blank green eyes. "You never answered me," he says, bitter, but the familiar vanilla-honey-warm-cinnamon smell is practically suffocating, his lungs burning as he inhales jaggedly, going light-headed; golden radiance flickers along the edges of his vision and he knows immediately that she's closer now, there, pulling and yanking and wrenching him back just as she always did; burning him on the alter and scooping up the damned ashes.

"Fuck," he hisses as mist rises in the clearing, everything hazy; his chest is still on fire when it all vanishes.


His skin is on fire. Despite the expected chill, he's warm — too warm, even, burning up and clammy as the heat radiates from his chest and spreads just as rapidly as it had back there, heating even more under the press of Hazel's fingers. Impossibly, his skin knits and crawls and forces itself back together sluggishly, slowing the outpour of blood and pushing together to form thin lines of red peaking through the tears of his shirt, instead.

The burning is the first thing he feels, golden flames making it all sear with pain; distantly, he realizes he must have broken a rib or two either in the fall or when Valkyr tore into him — he can feel it snapping back into place in a way that hurts worst than the breaking and it's all fire, fire, fire. It takes him a beat after he's really come to consciousness to be functioning through the pain, still light-headed with the golden light flashing in the darkness and the vanilla choking him.

Her aura and the intensity of her golden eyes hanging over him are just as blinding as always when he blinks at her, vision still blurry and hazy as fire curls in the pit of his chest. No pulse, nothing — his heartbeat doesn't pick up at her proximity because he realizes, like a side thought, that he doesn't presently have one. Everything still burns like hell and it hurts to breathe, and he has the brief, bizarre thought of Valkyr's trophy going up in flames as his body tried to reclaim the ashes. Unlikely, really — he had no idea how Grimm ever healed his broken vessel, but the deranged mental image had him huffing a laugh before he could stop himself.

And then he focused a little more intently on Hazel, on the molten gold pressing from her fingers into his burning chest, and he grinned with a bloody mouth like an idiot because... he was an idiot. And possibly a bit delirious. "Hey, princess," he said, voice rough and scratchy in the same manner as it was after a particularly deep sleep, "Beck said yes." He could feel her panic, the terror, the hysteria bubbling through their bond, but it was distant, weak; everything was just a little too muted and dazed and he couldn't pretend that he was actually concerned for his own wellbeing because... Well. He wasn't. And the first thing that came to mind and out of his mouth was probably one of the stupidest things he'd said to her yet. 
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

14
Elysium / Open THOUGHT I KNEW YOU | ""death""
« on: September 18, 2018, 02:12:27 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
He finds himself in the clearing again, predictably. Maybe this should be expected by now, and it sort of is, in a twisted way. He stands silently looking blankly at the souls around him, chest burning with phantom flames. There's a beat and then Zaniel says, sounding amused and a bit sly, "We really have to stop meeting like this."

The silence breaks, and Bastille glares at him. Echo simply looks highly unimpressed, as if disdainful that Bast seems to have gotten himself into this situation, again. The clear judgment riles his nerves, and Bast gripes a bit childishly, as if somehow comparing stupid deaths could save his pride, "At least I didn't drown."

"At least I didn't bite my wrists," Echo shoots back, immediate, the words crisp and cold. They both look, simultaneously, at Pollie — because it may be a jab at Bastille but technically Pollie was accountable for it, too.

He actually looks a bit apologetic, almost sheepish. Bastille stares at him and realizes that his looks less solid than the others, less tangible; realizes that his eyes are softer and less feral than they've been in the past, voice soft as he provides, "Sorry." Abruptly it occurs to him that he's looking at Pollie as he was before he died, and isn't that a strange development.

Nevertheless, Bastille snorts derisively at his apology, and is irritated that the noise is mirrored in Echo. He hates when he finds himself aligning most with him, of all these assholes, and he snorts one more time as if to make it clear that he is still judging Echo for judging him.

"Well, at least you can't bitch at me about not ODing," Zaniel cuts in, sounding delighted to be breaking the tension with his bullshit. Bast gives him a nasty look, less then pleased to be reminded that somehow, it was Zaniel that he shared a death with. He opted instead for stewing in moody silence, deciding that he had no interest in talking to any one them. To himself. Whatever.

It is in the silence that he realizes that there is no idle heartbeat drumming in the clearing, and he's not sure why that surprises him. He knows that the Pitt bastard took his heart — really? — but somehow the silence is strange and unfamiliar. It is also in the silence that he finds himself looking at Grimmkit, scowling at the tiny, still form.

Green eyes bore into him just as creepily as they always do, and Bastille finally caves. "Why didn't my powers work?" he demands, certain that he had the answers, certain that this was his fault, somehow. The vague chill of deja vu that hit him back there. The eerie sense that he'd been there before, and not just in this clearing. The sudden failure of his powers. It was always Grimm's fault.

No response.

Bastille huffs in irritation but doesn't bother trying to force acknowledgement. Grimm never answers him when they're here, trapped in the quiet stillness of the clearing, hanging in limbo. He just stared expectantly and waited, as if Bast knew how the hell he was supposed to get himself out of here. Maybe this time nothing would happen and the clearing would finally just fade to darkness. Or maybe he'd be trapped here with these assholes, forever.

"This is bullshit," he announces, met with more silence. Great. Now even himself wouldn't talk to him.


In the end, Valkyr leaves him on the border, there and gone. There's a note that only reads "sorry", cryptically enough, but that's about the only indication of how their seraph ended up on their border, fur sticky and matted with blood; the wound gaping in his chest was obscured by the rest of his body, but that amount of blood seemed to suggest that his immobility was a bit more final. Ironically, it was a fairly familiar sight, to those who'd been here in the beginning — it was almost the exact spot on the border he'd been dumped last time, only this time he was bloody.
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

15
Elysium / Re: I'M WAITING FOR MY MAN :: ambassador interest
« on: September 18, 2018, 01:52:13 PM »
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS
ASTRAL SERAPH THE ASCENDANTS TAGS
"Har's going to Sunhaven," he chided his Fireball idly as he joined them, bobbing a nod to Zjarr. He wasn't interested in taking an ambassadorship himself — he already got the shitty end of political demands as well — but he settled beside Har, adding, "I'll keep him company, 'less someone else wants to partner for Sunhaven." Things were a bit... tense with them at the moment, and he had no interest in sending the kitten off on his own to their border. Not that he would send Har alone anyway, frankly.
BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES

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'BEASTS OF BEYOND + an ability-based animal roleplay In Dire Straits: Awoo BIANDRI: fantasy canine rpg RPGfix 'SOULS-- post-apocalyptic werewolf rpg   CalicoCorner - trad. Warrior Cats & apocalyptic animal RP