Bastilleprisoner, for the first time in weeks — months? — could feel everything with crystal clarity. There was been flickering moments of emotion before, creeping up through the cracks, but it’d gotten worse with the bond threaded between he and Hazel. But this was different. Once the hangover and lingering impressions of his sort of maybe overdose (he wasn’t entirely certain if he had or not this time) faded, he was left with the realization that his careful shield of apathy had shattered. He thought back to his fingers on Hazel’s throat and felt sick to his stomach; conversely, he thought of her fingers in his hair when he woke up and there was warmth and contentment. He might go as far to say that he was shaken by the paranoid nightmare Pollie had forced through his thoughts, the blind panic and misery that had gripped him so tightly he might not have made it out it of without his mother. Everything was just... there. Hazy. He was exhausted and feeling so much and he walked through crowds of Clanmates who stared at him because they knew or else they had heard him screaming in his room as everything hit. That in itself was exhausting, and Rin’s stern look and Cooper’s concern were too much for him just then.

Eventually, he realized where his paws were taking him. Thinking of her made his stomach twist, because he could acknowledge now that he’d pushed her too far. And while he’d been aware that what he’d said to her was terrible before, now he could feel it. The remorse, the guilt, the echo of his mother telling him he couldn’t keep going on like this, giving himself excuses. His throat still ached and it burned when he swallowed, but Bast kept moving forward. There was no use in avoiding this. It was about damn time that he apologize to her, anyways.

He paused outside her door before he finally just sighed and knocked quietly, voice low and a bit scratchy, ”Margy?”

[ [member=449]Margaery[/member] ]

Genevieve. Right. Bastille supposed he should have seen that one coming, but in all honestly, dragging himself through withdrawals were taking up a lot of his fucking energy. He might have expected Margy to resurface on her own by now, but he knew that this split personality wasn't the same as he experienced his souls. Sure, he might be able to reclaim control fairly easily and fairly quickly, but this was... different. He had yet to figure it out, and he was too tired to bother as he blinked blankly back at the vampire for a moment.

"Right," he said, slowly, studying her intently as he puzzled at her aura. It differed in degrees from Margy's, despite being the same overall, and he only ever seemed to pick up on negativity from her. Like now, as she made that little quip about disappointment. Bast snorted and drawled, "Welcome to the club, I guess." A pause at her inquiry, and he shrugged. "Uh, I figured we needed to... talk. About what I said to her." He arched a brow, and ventured, "Well, both of you, technically. You are one soul, after all." He seemed to remember that he needed to do more than just talk, and cleared his throat. "To apologize, really."

He shrugged, and considered her for a moment. He didn't really have any cause to discuss it with Gen, but then again, she was also Margy, so he stayed still as he gauged what she said about it.