ooc ahh!! i remember Gordon from FF!! you might not remember me, but I was dreamiie : ))

Hazel was next over, the usual pep in her step lacking its luster. Things had been so tumultuous lately...all the different emotions and silent disagreements and recent, horrible events. People were different from when she first met them and things were changing and she didn't like it - but hey, it wasn't like she could do anything. So far, she was one of the youngest members of the clan; the child, the happy camper. She was supposed to be happy-go-lucky and carefree like she was that day on the border not so long ago. That day on the border...like this one.

But her mentality had always exceeded her physical age. Some things that should be confusing seemed so obvious - like how Bastille practically ran from responsibility - while others were properly puzzling, like Suite and Margy's marital feuds. Now, between her newfound (or what she thought was newfound) friendship with Bastille gone awry due to something he saw between her and Margaery and grieving clan mates, Hazel found it harder and harder to balance the happiness she used to so easily find with loss. She could feel something inside her shift, like it had settled its weight onto the other foot. She didn't know what "it" was, but she wasn't very keen on finding out. Whatever it was, it was horribly uncomfortable and disorienting.

But she would keep a brave face, if that's what it took. Luna was sick. Margy was pregnant. Bastille was leader. Starry was dead. Rad was MIA and they needed a healer - badly. Now was not the time to have an existential crisis and dump it on everyone. She could deal. She could.

"A tour is a great idea." Hazel piped, a smile on her lips as she trotted over, offering a quick nod to Suite and Margy. "Camp is back that way - " she gestured with a sweep of her tail the direction from which she had come. " - and it's pretty hard to miss. It's the big building with the dome." The cocoa feline turned back to Gordon, vivid pools of gold blinking as she tilted her head. "Gordon, right? I'm Hazel. Nice to meet you." She greeted.

★ — hazel — "speech" — seven months — the ascendants — tags — ★

Bastille would love to avoid literally everyone for as long as possible, but he supposed he didn't get the fucking luxury. Instead, he skirted around Hazel and Margy as well as he could, refusing to let his gaze stray to them as he stopped beside Luna. His mentor had always been a calming influence for him before, and he brushed briefly against her side, apathetic stare locking on this newcomer instead. Be nice. Be nice, he reminded himself, before greeting vaguely, "Uh, welcome, I guess. 'm Bast." A pause, and he supplied awkwardly, "Bastille, actually." He needed to start giving people his actual name, but it felt forced and uncomfortable.

[ well well well would you look at who it is ]