He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to care, wasn’t ready for the sharp, vicious pain of loss. Bastille hadn’t truly cared for a single person — including himself — for his entire life, and the Ascendants had thawed something in him without him even realizing it. Losing Starry took him by surprise, and he was a wreck in the aftermath, struggling under the grief and the sudden weight of being forced into the last position he had ever wanted. Hell, Bastille didn’t want any position, and yet here he was. Forced here in the worst of circumstances. They were all fucking doomed, and it was going to be his fault, inevitably.

It didn’t escape his notice that it was Sunday, which was meeting day. In his fog of misery, that one fact had been eating at him; he’d been refusing to accept reality for days, pretending that if he didn’t acknowledge it that it wouldn’t be true, but he would hate himself even more if he put off a meeting. He couldn’t start letting Starry down already, and so it was with a sour taste in his mouth that he stalked to the Seraph’s spot bitterly. It all felt so fucking wrong, and it was such an acute nightmare of his that he kept thinking that maybe, maybe he would just fucking wake up any moment now. After a brief pause when he didn’t suddenly jolt awake, he forced himself to take a breath, to silence the horrible turmoil in his gut.

He looked like death, and his voice was flat and apathetic as he spoke lowly, ”Meeting time and shit. Get over here or get caught up later.” He swallowed, and there was a waver in that steady tone as he continued, ”As I’m sure you’re all aware, we said goodbye to Starrynight this week. We host his memorial today, after the meeting. I guess we should invite our neutrals or some shit, so if someone wants to go give word to them once it’s up, cool.” The former leader’s pendant hung heavily around his neck, and felt all the heavier as he thought about the concept of being forced to say goodbye again. Nevertheless, he forced himself to carry on, ”Unfortunately, he left you lot with me, so... I guess we’ll see how long it takes for the Observatory burn down.”

Bastille probably would have said it with a grin under any normal circumstances, but here it fell flat, his brief smile a sarcastic one before he moved on. He wanted to get this shit over with, thanks. ”Right. So... Newcomers this week. You lot came at a shitty time, so, you know, sorry if it’s been weird. Not much we can do about that, losing our leader and all, but welcome anyway. That’s, uh, Wren, Illumi, Rosegarden, Fourteen, and Brigitte. Did Bobble and Zjarr end up sticking around? Whatever, welcome if you did.” Hell, half of them probably didn’t even know who the fuck he was prior to this meeting, if only because Bast refused to introduce himself accordingly to strangers.

Not nearly as warm and fuzzy as Starry, but he wasn’t anything as much as Starry. Bast took a moment to double check that he got everyone before he went on. ”So, those of you newcomers will need to find your meteorite shards in the Starpool so that was can make your pendants. We can, uh, set up a little group trip for you guys to go together or something this week. Or just go on your own. Just make sure you bring Roy or I your shard so that we can make your pendant sometime in the next few days until we get more blacksmiths. Good? Good.”

A pause. Then, ”Immy’s demoted, warned last week; haven’t seen you, dude. No word from Rad after her notice ended — consider this your warning. Uh, everyone’s been pretty fucking sluggish this week (from final) after Starry’s death, so we’re just gonna put off promotions until shit feels vaguely more normal.” Not that if ever would with Bastille as Seraph, but it’s the thought that counts. Except for when your thoughts don’t manage to save your leader. Then they’re worthless. There was a pause, before he added, ”If anyone wants to host weekly tasks this week, speak up. If not, I’ll get them up in a bit.”

Silence for a moment as Bastille just looked at them, feeling exhausted now that the hell was over. He hated this, and it was likely obvious. He shifted slightly, and felt Starry’s pendant clink against his French coin as he said, ”Uh, right. That’s it, I think.”

[ tl;dr
— starry’s death, there will be a memorial thread posted today & we will need someone to take the link/invite to neutrals and/or just notify them of leadership change
— welcome newcomers! pls make a thread finding your meteorite shard this week and/or look out for a group visit to find shards in a few days
— immortalhd demoted, rad warned
— no promos this week bc it’s been slow with schools getting out
— if someone wants to host weekly tasks this week lmk ]

He wasn’t surprised that Suite offered, because Suite always offered. She too had wanted to establish ambassadors and she often acted as one, regardless of official installment. What did surprise him was her correction, and he scowled. How the fuck had he missed someone? Bastille never forgot names, and he been there when they joined. Fuck, he must be really, really off that morning. ”Yeah, fuck, sorry. Welcome again, you too.” Jesus. Bastille was really kicking off his start to fucking everything up early, wasn’t he?