Bastille was finding it easier and easier to get Octavia to himself. It seemed that the filly had gotten used to him showing up in the early morning, when he knew the odds of Hazel being around were low, and she was often waiting for him outside the bunker when he stepped out of the Observatory. In the past it was a damn mission to find her sans Arion, but at this point they had a routine. They’d patrol in the morning, just the two of them, and he’d take her to the flower fields or the ruins afterwards with a book. It was... nice. He’d fallen away from her for a while there, in the days following Starry’s death, and the longer he avoided Hazel the harder it got to find Octavia on her own. He had missed her, and her willingness to pass up on Arion to hang out with Bastille in the mornings made him believe that she had missed him, too.

Of course, it was impossible to avoid Arion entirely. When the colt wasn’t with Hazel, it seemed that he was following Octavia around, vying for her attention. Half the time when they were at the ruins in the morning, the colt would make an appearance and come to play. Usually whenever Bast found Octavia in the afternoon or at night, Arion was there. At first he’d been irritated, convinced that Hazel would come looking for the colt eventually and he’d be forced to talk to her, but it never seemed to happen. And Octavia was happy to spend time with the colt, too.

So, Bastille had gotten used to the Thoroughbred. His protective inclination towards O had made him distrust the colt originally, but alas, Arion seemed relatively harmless. And besides — half the time Octavia sent the colt running all on her own. She was a sassy little thing, his filly, and it made him grin in amusement every time. At some point he’d stopped being bothered by the colt, and even adapted to his presence as he got more familiar with his... quirks. Such as how he would, at times, take off in one direction, dash around the flower fields, and come skidding back over to Bast and Octavia with little notice.

”Yes, Arion, very impressive,” he drawled, vaguely amused as the colt did just that. Octavia didn’t so much as acknowledge his little... run, continuing to inspect her flowers delicately. Arion snorted at her, and Bast arched a brow. ”Sorry, bud. I don’t think she’s very interested in your talents.”

"Wow, he seems to tolerate you."

Hazel hadn't seen Arion in a couple hours - which, given how often he followed her around like the wind might steal her, was odd. Then again...the colt had been disappearing more and more these days, but it wasn't like Hazel noticed. She was too busy trying to figure out the simmering anger that stung the back of her mind and what the hell was going on with Bastille and Margaery. Both of them were out of whack, and it all trickled down to one event; an event Hazel was present for. And at the moment? Her little brother (who was, admittedly, twenty times her size) was missing, and that wasn't okay. So when she went searching for him, and found him with the guy who she kept telling herself she couldn't stand to be around.

To say that she hated him would still be an overstatement; she was still just terrified of what he might become. But in looking at him now, as she approached on cautious paws, she saw a different sort of person than what she'd been seeing for the past week and a half. Mellow...relaxed. Not quite in touch with feeling, more like just out of range, but at ease. At ease and talking to her colt. It was not foreign knowledge that Bastille could hardly stand the sight of her or anything that reminded him of her, and was thus a surprise to Hazel when so relaxed around Arion. She tilted her head, finding this Bast more like the boy she had met than the leader they had gained.

Her gaze flickered briefly to his eyes, seeking a change in color and letting the tension in her shoulders slip away when she found none. "Then again," She spoke, "he'll tolerate anyone that'll show him attention." Hazel turned her gaze towards Arion, watching as he moodily snorted at Bastille for his comment and turned to prance after Octavia.

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

He could feel her coming, but he had no impulse to run, strangely. Maybe Rad's shit had really mellowed him out recently, or maybe he was just getting tired of avoiding her -- maybe he was willing to admit that, on some level, he had missed her warmth and her light and her words. It was hard to push everyone away and maintain that distance after he'd already had them so close, and perhaps he was weak enough to admit it. He wanted to believe he didn't need any one but in practice, in practice it was harder to accomplish. Her aura fanned out at the edges of his vision and her honey-vanilla-cinnamon smell was instant and jolting, but he didn't move, didn't take his eyes off of Arion.

"He like me -- I tolerate him," he quipped, glancing sideways at her before he looked back to the colt as he snorted indignantly. Bast offered a half-smile to Arion, vaguely amused, and eyed Octavia as the filly apparently decided that now someone else was here to rival her for Arion's attention she was interested in playing. He nipped at the colt and bolted, and Bast rolled his eyes as the Thoroughbred gave chase, snorting slightly at Hazel's comment. "What, are you saying that I'm not special? Ouch, Haze."

Hazel had already braced herself - expecting for him to tense up and leave or just flat out ignore her. She had steadied herself against the low anger simmering under her chest, letting it level off. But when he made it evident that he wasn’t moving, she felt a strange sort of weight lift from her. Could she finally corner him and work some sense into his head? Maybe he would sit and listen if she didn’t yell.

But as she regarded him, Hazel thought better of it. Don’t ruin it, her head confirmed. The growing number of things to talk to him about dwindled, sinking back into the feeling of frustration until it faded. She didn’t need to ruin this...break. This sort of truce he seemed to be suggesting. So Hazel settled, easing the tension out of her shoulders and their problems out of her mind.

“Good, because he needs someone who will show him some attention these days, since I’ve done such a terrible job.” The guilt that laced her voice disappeared as the last words slipped out on a purr, watching with a sad sort of light in her eyes as Arion finally noticed she was there and nickered, trotting over to bowl her over with a gentle shove from his nose. Hazel laughed, the familiar warmth from her colt a sorely missed presence. “How rude, Arion.” The feline chided, batting at him as he followed her to nip at her ear. “Go play, little brother - I’m too small to be the victim of your games now!” Hazel squeaked out the last phrase as he nipped her again before shooing him off.

Luckily Octavia had distracted him, and indeed did the young Thoroughbred give chase. Hazel huffed, sitting up and swiping a paw over her ear. She cast a glance at Bastille at his next words, smirking. “Now you’re just putting words in my mouth.” She bantered. “But hey, if that’s how you want to see it, then who am I to stop you?”

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