Sure, the scenery was pretty, but Bastille had never really had much of an eye for nature or pretty sights. He could appreciate beautiful literature or even art (art made by others, that was), knew a gorgeous waltz when he heard it, but other such general beauties? He barely even wasted a thought on how the night sky looked or the wide expanse of flowers dotting the Ascendants' territory. Often times he would meet newcomers who commented on it during their first tour, so naturally he knew it was beautiful, he just... didn't care, or rather, just didn't notice.

He was not, however, at odds with the beauty of the place. It didn't quite suit him much -- he was not personally a peaceful person, even if he was obligated to be given his role -- but he had come to consider the quiet plains his home, and he was relieved that they were finally out of the Observatory. He'd take weirdly serene views over being trapped inside. He was patrolling that morning, taking advantage of the freedom to do so, when he came upon the stranger waiting on their border.

[b]"Yo," he greeted idly, eyeing her briefly but not really wasting time of meaningless small talk, "What'd'ya need? You're on the Ascendants border."

[B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST

ONISION M.F.
FIREBALL && ASCENDANTS
TAGS

Oh, shit.

Somehow, the possibility that Vindicate Clemens could still be alive and could be here, amongst the groups, makes her feel sick. It is not the same way that she feels about thinking that her brother might still be alive, with the dread that makes her heart sink and makes her want to tear him limb from limb yet again, tear him to shreds and rip apart what little remains of his soul until there is no way he can come back. But she knows his curse, he will never die and never will she, doomed to repeat until there is nothing left but ash and dust, and even then they may not be released from the cycle. Such was the curse.

But this is not Vin, this is Vendetta. She faintly remembers him mentioning that he had siblings, but she doesn't think that they've ever met. And therefore, she believes with some lingering sense of hope that Vendetta has no idea who the winged panther is. If not, her day is about to get a whole load shittier and she's gonna be back to square one in terms of well, trying to get her life back together. Moving on was important, but how was she supposed to move on if things like this were thrown at her.

"Haven't heard of him, nah. Not been round here anyways." So she lies, blatantly, offering a non-committal shrug as an apology. "Someone might of, name's Haerii Blair Alae Anima - nice to meet'cha." It really isn't, but there's no point in acting outwardly hostile towards a stranger - especially one that she has something to hide from. 

The scenery had always been a plus for Hazel's artistic side; her romanticism always searching for that golden ratio, that thing that would make the page pop to life. She missed that about art: being able to capture the land on a piece of paper. It was so different from photography, but brought a similar satisfaction. Hazel desperately wanted to draw again - just wanted to feel the charcoal on the page and listen to the graphite scratch and etch. But there was still that gap of pointless, worthless, useless blocking her from reaching it; still that ringing echo of Genevieve's words that felt like a slap to the face.

Regardless, what drew her to the border was both her aimless, thoughtless wandering about in complete freedom and the subconcious tug of the tether that bound her to Bastille. It rarely surprised her these days that he was somewhere nearby just about everywhere she showed up; it had become a habit. In fact, it was more odd to not see him.

Golden optics focused on the stranger at hand: a seemingly normal feline with very not normal accessories. (Actually, they were normal for this land and world, but that didn't raise Hazel's confidence level.) The girl hovered next to Bastille, suddenly remembering what it was like to be around people she didn't know anything about. Shyness clouded her mind as she nodded to the femme. "Hi," She greeted, trying not to stumble over her words. "I'm Hazel. I like your name." The cocoa feline offered a rather bashful grin, trying not to blush harder than she already was. She had considered a lot of effects the observatory lock-down would have on her mind and powers, but never had she thought that it might make a reappearance with her social awkwardness.

Bastille glanced over his shoulder at Margy as she arrived, offering her a half-smile in greeting before his attention was back on their newcomer. [b]"Never heard of him, boo," he provided with a shrug, the name Vindicate lost on him. They did have a lot of newcomers come and go, but he at least typically got their name, and he had yet to forget one. Unless he was going under an alias, Vindicate had never turned up here. "Sorry. Have you tried the other groups? Three of them are pretty damn close by, might be over there."

His attention slid to Oni as his Fireball appeared, and if he was looking for validation, he received it; he nudged him lightly with his shoulder, minding that he didn't knock the younger boy over with his injuries, and gave him another of those sideway grins. He was trying, at least, which was really all you could ask for, in Bast's books. And this stranger was alright by him, given that she seemed to soften towards Oni, too.

The sudden warmth of the bond and Hazel's presence at his other side was vaguely expected and not, too. Yes, she was often there with him when it came to greeting newcomers, and more often than not he found her by his side or vice versa. It still surprised him a little bit every time, though, and so did the slight nerves radiating off of her. Bast leaned a little in her direction, not quiet touching, and glanced at her before he was turning his attention back towards Vend.

"Yeah, you're free to stick around," he said, vaguely amused that she felt the need to "pull her weight". He supposed that was important to most groups, but Bast personally didn't really care. They were a home for anyone who needed it, even if they decided to be a hermit in said home and hide from all responsibility or social interaction. "Don't worry 'bout it. We're not gonna throw you out if you skip a weekly task or two," he teased, idly, and added, "Wanna tour? If not, we can just show you a room and you can explore."

[B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST