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+---- Thread: don't you know who i think i am ; private (/showthread.php?tid=1002)
don't you know who i think i am ; private - Suiteheart - 04-30-2018
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]It had taken every ounce of her strength to come to this conclusion. She hated herself for this. She hated that she was even having to consider this. And she wished so badly that this would not be something she would undoubtedly be remembered for in the eyes of someone she had grown to care so much for.
For the last few days, the idea of coming clean to Bastillepaw had been eating away at her. She wasn't sure why or how this thought had popped into her head, but it did. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she trusted him. Wholly and completely. She wanted him to know the truth, she did. Even if he hated her for it and never spoke to her again, she could take some solace in knowing that she had been truthful with Bastille.
But the thought of him hating she and Margaery shook her to her core. She thought of him as her son, and she loved him as her own. If he was so disgusted with her actions that he refused to associate with her, she would be at a loss. And she had already lost all of her children. Possibly losing Bastillepaw was like reopening an old wound. Worse yet, it was like aggravating one that had never fully healed.
She prayed that he could find it somewhere within himself to forgive her. Or to at least accept her apology. She just... Whatever happened, she just hoped he could understand why. That was all. That alone would be enough for Suiteheart. Maybe then, she wouldn't feel the full force of guilt every time she looked at him.
Shaky footsteps headed towards his room. She wanted to turn back, but she refused. She had to do this. It would be now or later, and while she wanted to opt for later, she knew she could not stall forever. Margaery may be angry with her later, but this was something Suite needed to do. The weight of lying was overwhelming as it was. Continuing to do so would crush her soul.
Her delicate features were stained with worry, and the tip of her tail twitched back and forth out of nervousness. Maybe it wasn't too late to turn around. Maybe she could wait a few more days. Maybe she could finally convince herself that she was Hotelsuites, not Suiteheart. Suiteheart was dead; she had killed that part of herself a long time ago.
Hadn't she?
'No,' she thought as a sigh escaped her. She couldn't run forever. Not from her past and not from her name. It was time she tried to face it. That being said, Suiteheart mustered all the courage she could and gently knocked on Bastillepaw's door.
"Please let this be okay..." she muttered.
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Re: don't you know who i think i am ; private - BASTILLEPAW - 05-01-2018
[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧
the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
[div style="line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; color: black; padding-top: 10px; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
It was almost funny how worked up Suite was getting herself -- or, at least, would be in hindsight. Bastille was relatively young, in the middle range of the typical apprenticeship, but that was not accounting for the old fuckers that were his souls. Sure, he was immature emotionally and generally acted like a petulant child when pissed off, but beneath his young impulses and lack of growth, he had memories. It wasn't so much that his souls made him act older, but that they granted him a wealth of knowledge and experiences to reference without being forced to physically live through it all himself. (Well, technically, he had lived them all but... it was complicated, phrasing soul shit. Besides, Bastille liked to think of himself as a separate from his past, and tended to consider each past life it's own entity. Sure, in reality they were all blended together in one now, but fuck that shit.)
The moral of the story, here: Bastille had seen some shit. He knew people lived complicated lives and had a whole wealth of reasons for doing the strange shit that they did sometimes. He knew there was something going on with Suite and Margy, but he also knew there must be a reason for their secrecy, some logic behind it. It might be terrible logic, sure, but Bast refused to believe they would do it out of any sort of animosity. Their auras were good ones, and beyond that, they were kind and caring. Whatever their reasoning, he didn't really care that they had lied. He was only vaguely curious as to why and if they really thought that they were pulling it off. (Spoiler alert: they were not.)
As he swung his door open, it was a headache and a vague desire to set all of Tanglewood territory on fire. He was more tired than angry at this point, though, some of his unrelenting fury finally having taken a break as he looked for ways to distract himself. He was almost relieved to see her; she had a relatively calming presence, as Luna or Margy did. He found it easier to reign in his temper around them, and after eyeing her briefly (she seemed stressed), he drawled idly, "Uh, yeah?"
Re: don't you know who i think i am ; private - Suiteheart - 05-01-2018
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]As Bastillepaw opened the door, Suiteheart caught the tail-end of his white-hot rage diminishing. For a moment, she lingered at his question. She wanted to reverse this talk and ask about him. For the last few days, he had seemed out of sorts and angrier than usual, and it worried her deeply. She wanted to be able to help, but she wasn't sure she had the capabilities. Granted, she would gladly burn down all of Tanglewood to show Bast the light, but that would surely land the two of them in a great deal of trouble. And trouble was the last thing Suite needed at the moment.
"Hey, do you mind if I come in to chat for a minute?" she asked, coming to. She would've told him here and now, but the walls had ears. Didn't they? They had to. Maybe she was being paranoid.
Her voice betrayed something like desperation. She trusted Bastille more than anyone else at the moment save for Margaery. He was indifferent to most things, making him the best candidate for spilling her guts to. She just hoped he would remain insouciant for the remainder of their conversation. It would make things easier. It would make her feel like less of the bad guy. At the same time, however, she wouldn't mind anger. Maybe it would knock some fucking sense into her.
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Re: don't you know who i think i am ; private - BASTILLEPAW - 05-04-2018
[div style="background-color: white; width: 100%; font-family: Georgia; color: #576a6e; text-align: center; margin: auto"]BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS ✧
the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
[div style="line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; color: black; padding-top: 10px; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags
Gods, he could practically taste the nerves rolling off of her. It made him vaguely uncomfortable, and something about that chaotic energy got under his skin and made him vibrate with restlessness. He usually was not very affected by other's auras or energies, however, which made this experience... odd. He couldn't tell if he was imagining things or if shit was just getting weird, and he shook it off with a slight inclination of his head to indicate she was welcome inside. "Uh, sure."
His room was neat, naturally. He didn't own very much, or really care for decorations -- the only decor he seemed to have were books. Lots and lots of books, stacked under his bed in orderly piles, on the shelves, on top of the desk, a handful on the night stand. It made the room smell like paper and dust, acutely like a library, really. They seemed to range on topics, generally centered around history, philosophy, classics, and fairytales. Really, the only person who knew about all of his damn books was Rad, and that was because she liked to "borrow" them. After the fourth theft, he'd started demanding she turn one in for each new one she took. He didn't mind if Suite saw them, though -- he trusted her.
"What's up?" he questioned after a bit, wanting this weird tension around her to go away.