IT'S ALL PROPHECY | open + becky needed

[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

God, there were sometimes where he was convinced that Starry must have hated him. Sure, it's not like the Seraph could have ever anticipated dying so soon and leaving Bastille in this position, but... well. Wasn't leaving Bastille in this position hatred enough? He knew damned well that the bengal hated all senses of power or authority, that he was fucking allergic to responsibility, and yet. He'd decided to leave his Clan with him? Had he wanted Bastille to fail, or something? Was this some sort of post humerus revenge? Bastille wasn't even sure why Starry would want to curse him in death, but hell, he was starting to feel cursed.

He had sworn out loud when he found the notes detailing Starry's attempts to rekindle friendship with Tanglefuck, complete with the former leader's little happy faces and excited comments about how he thought that Beck was coming around. Bastille could practically feel the happiness and delight radiating off of the pages, and he knew that, as much as it fucking killed him, he was going to have to go to Beck. He'd rather stab himself repeatedly but, but he owed it to Starry to do this. He might not agree with it -- in fact, he vehemently hated this idea -- but he didn't agree with a lot of things that Starry believed and it hadn't stopped him yet. Fucking hell.

He stood on the dirty ass swamp border, looking annoyed as he waited for the stupid ghost to show up. Then, he yelled into the abyss of gross mud, "Yo, jackass, this time skip trying to creep up on me with a knife, yeah?" Clearly, he was talking about Beck, and he just wanted this to be over with... yesterday.

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[Nayru]

[color=#6b7e99]✦ ✦ ✦

[b][color=#6b7e99]"Um..."

Nayru's voice was quiet and laced with something akin to hesitation as she stepped from the shadows of the swamp. As usual, Chad was upon her head, hissing up a storm at this stranger whom he had decided instantaneously that he did not like. [color=#6b7e99]"Name and business?" The Sawbone continued, lightly hushing her alligator companion. She was mildly intrigued though. Not by Bastilleprisoner or the strange words he spoke about a 'jackass' and a knife but rather, her reptile's reaction to him. Most, if not all, of the Tanglers he had come across he had greatly enjoyed- hell, he had even taken to a few of the newcomers. Why was he so opposed to this Ascendant?

[color=#6b7e99]"I'm Nayru, the sawbone here. Uh... I... I don't know exactly who you're looking for, I'm sorry," She continued softly, a frown tugging on the corners of her lips. He didn't seem particularly harmful... but there was something there, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. [color=#6b7e99]"Maybe it'd be best if you spoke to Beck."

[Morgan]

Morgan appeared next, stopping as he reached Nayru's side. Along with the Sawbone's presence, the dog had sensed another familiar one in the visitor. Not only had he been the one who hosted the memorial some time before, but he had also once come to Tanglewood alongside the late leader.

It seemed that the samoyed's young ally had said what needed to be said already for the most part. Unsure of if or when Beck would arrive, he added, "I am Morgan, Regent. Any questions, we can help with. Until Beck is here." His speech was still not close to perfect (and his muffling ice mask definitely did not help), but he felt that he had gotten his point across.

The cream-colored dog thought for a moment again before opening his mouth. "And... I'm sorry for your loss," he said, bowing his head down briefly. He had heard the phrase a few times before, and hoped it was relevant. Ever since he left the memorial, he found himself wondering how the feline was feeling, especially given how much pain he appeared to be in at the time.

[VIGENERE CIPHER.]

[Freyja]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]Ever the personification of obliviousness, Freyja strolled forward, a smile plastered upon her lips. The young girl came to a halt beside her sister, looking over Bastilleprinsoner with intrigue. He smelled funny - like stardust. She tilted her head to the right for a heartbeat before tilting it to the left as if she were thinking. Perhaps she was; perhaps she wasn't. No one could be certain with Freyja.

"Hello there! I'm Freyja!" she purred, clearly unaware that his was a newly promoted leader who had just suffered a great tragedy, one who would rather be dead than be at their border. "I like your necklaces. They're really beautiful," she added quickly, pointing to his pendant and french coin. She would love to have something as pretty as those things. For now, however, she was content with listening to the reasons for his arrival.

[Luciferr]

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But Heed this lesson well,
When the weak court death, They find it -

Fenris was next to arrive, striding languidly up alongside his fellow regent with a nod from the firey canine beast to the icy canine - shifting to partially cover for Freyja and Nayru in something of a subconscious protective movement - even partially including the dream demon.

War inclined his head "Fenrisulfr Grimm, also regent - and again condolences for your loss" the beast was ever formal but most assuredly in these such meetings, idly he wondered if Beck would see the advantage this time or simply still cling to enemy relations.

[sub]TANGLEWOOD - REGENT - TAGS - REF (9FT) - EXTREME[W]isker[/sub]

[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

Well, this was not Becky. Huh. Bastille's attention dropped from scanning the swamp for Beck's aura signature to the stranger who approached, and for a moment he just considered her. She was not very... hostile. At all. Which was odd, but he supposed he shouldn't expect them all to hate him just as fiercely as the Ascendants hated Beck. They had never done anything to Tanglewood, so they had little cause to blame the Ascendants for anything. Still, though, this girl had a decent aura. Well, shit. That was a bit... anti-climatic.

"Uh, ye-ah," he said slowly, stretching out the word a little bit, "That's that jackass in question. Last time I visited he tried to stab me." Because he was a jackass, clearly. Bastille shifted his weight, and decided that dealing with this peaceful girl was significantly more awkward than dealing with said asshole ghost in question. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like his situation was going to be getting any better.

He recognized Morgan -- one of the few who had actually attended Starry's memorial, aside from the Clan themselves. He'd brought flowers, and Bast didn't really see any issue with the guy, not when he'd been willing to offer his respects to Starry. The reminder twisted something inside of him, but Bast was getting good at hiding it in his expression. He simply nodded in acknowledgement, muttering, "Yeah, hi again." Gods, these guys were really deflating his annoyance towards Tanglewood.

He glanced sideways at Vigenere, providing vaguely, "We're... alright." Did he care? Was he actually interested in the Ascendants' well-being? Bastille was starting to wonder in Tanglefuck hadn't been switched out with actual, compassionate people when he wasn't looking. Sure, his interactions with the group were basically limited to Beck, but Jesus. These were the people who had stolen his mentor and tortured her? What the fuck was going on, here? "Thanks, I think?"

He blinked back at Freyja, realizing that the train of shocking humane Tanglewooders was not going to end, and offered her another, "Um, thank you," in response to her commentary. Was he high? He could swear he hadn't taken any of his pills before coming over here, but he was feeling distinctly at a loss, here. He nodded in greeting to Fenrisulfr, and ended up offering lamely, "Uh, I'm Bastille. Nice to... meet you?"

It looked like they were just gonna be hanging about awkwardly waiting for Beck, and they were all... fairly normal. Friendly. Seemed to actually give a fuck that Starry was gone, or at least had the compassion to offer well wishes. Bast was stumped, unable to connect these perfectly kind individuals with... Beck. "Do none of you see the jackassery that Beck possesses?" It was a genuine question, and he squinted slightly. "Is he... normal with you guys?" It seemed far fetched, but he didn't see why this group would follow such a demonic little ghost if they knew he was a demonic little ghost.

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[Morgan]

Morgan stepped up, staying close to his fellow Regent and indirectly guarding the sisters. His eyes shifted, landing and resting on the huge beast's face. Idly thinking odd things about his companion, his dreamy gaze returned to the visitor who had just finished greeting everyone. His focus returned as he and the others were asked a couple of questions.

"Jackassery?" The samoyed could not say he was familiar with the term. "I'm not sure what 'normal' means either." As with the previous word, it was alien and difficult to comprehend. The dog hid a frustrated frown under his mask, attempting to continue. "I don't know... I have nobody else. Nothing besides Tanglewood. I grew up near here. Alone my whole life." His eyes moved to the ground next; he really hadn't ever left Tanglewood before without a purpose. "Anyway, nice to meet you Bastille. Thanks for coming." His frown returned to a samoyed smile as his mood picked back up.

[beck.]

    He was to blame for the negative stigma the Ascendants had formed around the tight-knit swamp dwellers, yet he didn't regret it. The commander hoped that his little mistakes would be enough to scare the pacifists away, and it did -- for a short while, at least. Then, someone must have had the bright idea of actually approaching them, and then gathering the gall to invite them to a memorial. He bet they were only included out of formality, or it was a simple accident. Either way, he expected it would be the last he was seeing of them, especially with the added news of Bastille stepping up as their leader. The mangled lining of his lungs still burned with imagined water from the grey tabby's ambush; he spent hours after the other leader's attack, coughing up blood-tinged foam and stagnant water trapped in his chest until his shallow breathing was nothing more than a hoarse whisper and he was nauseous with remembered pain.

    Needless to say, the hatred was mutual between them. But another feeling was beginning to worm its way into his mind at just the scent of Bastillepaw wafting from the border: fear. Not of the feline himself, but rather of the graphic memories attaching themselves to his presence, corrupting his so-called aura and reminding Beck why he was a ghost in the first place. Bastille was just as bad as a relentless child murderer in his book now, and he would not be forgiven, even if he got down on his knees and apologized until his voice wore out.

    The poltergeist had to take a moment to compose himself after catching scent Bastille, slumped up against a tree trunk, not too far from where other members were gathering, with his paws wrapped around his disfigured snout to keep in a coughing fit. Even as his shoulders jerked with every muffled hack, his ears frantically perked and swiveled with every arrival of a new voice. The boy relaxed slightly at the multiple clanmates already questioning Bastille; the knowledge of them supporting him, however, did little to put his mind and coughing at ease. They were talking about him, weren't they? Surely, they would agree just how pathetic his leadership really was -- he couldn't even secure them an ally out of his own paranoia. Beck's head ducked down in shame, ears ever alert for their response to the surprised questions.

    As he eavesdropped on the nearby border, his bloodless guts twisted into an uneasy knot, and he felt like he might be sick for the first time in centuries. He couldn't take it anymore -- the mangy feline stumbled up to his feet, scraped knees wobbly as he finally finished his walk towards the group. Lantern-like eyes refused to met Bastille's own gaze, instead flitting between the mud underfoot and the friendly faces gathered next to him. He didn't even say sorry. The poltergeist forced himself to straighten up, scarred features contorting into a straining grimace in an attempt not to show vulnerability and exposed teeth visible gnawing on his tongue as if holding back a childish whine. He saw, and he didn't do anythin'. What was he supposed to say? Previous concerned gazes scorching his back were more than enough to inform him just how everyone believed he was an idiot for not securing a trustworthy ally before, but Bastille was far from a leader he would be begrudgingly willing to compromise with. Let me make him pay; we can watch him suffer together, just like he did to us. Isn't that what you want? Biting back a growl of frustration to silence the nagging voice clawing at his skull to get out, Beck managed to croak out in as polite as a tone he could force into his rasping words, "What d'ya want?" His attempt at civil conversation failed miserably, a stray cough wracking his gaunt form for a moment until he recovered control, tilting his head in order to spit out the resulting blood-tinted sputum off to the side where it would inevitably disappear from the living realm entirely.

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[BASTILLEPAW]

AND I'M JUST A DEAD MAN WALKING TONIGHT

Bastille considered that for a moment. He supposed it didn't really answer his question -- if Beck was possibly less of an asshole towards his own people -- but in a way, it gave him some sort of explanation. This was their home, whatever that meant to them, and would stand by their leader (or at least, their Clan) just was readily as Bast would stand him his own or had stood by Starry, even when he didn't agree with him. He couldn't really blame them for that, even if he didn't understood how they put up with Beck's shit. (Granted, how did any of the Ascendants' put up with his?)

Speak of the ghostly fucker. Bastille studied Beck with a blank stare as he joined them, feeling a faint flicker of satisfaction if his refusal to make eye contact. It was cruel and vicious and malicious, but something in him was delighted with the acknowledge that his little... visit, so to speak, had made a lasting impression on Beck. There was something nasty in his heart that made him want to reach out for his thoughts and give him a little reminder, but he reminded himself that he was trying to forge an alliance here, not torment Beck.

"Starry was trying to bring you into an alliance," he said, direct, getting right to the damned point, "And I'm willing to honor that, if you're... interested." Gods, he really did not want to have to be the one asking Beck for a damned alliance, but he supposed his paws were fucking tied on this one. At least the rest of Tanglewood seemed... normal. Nice. Not absolutely fucking terrible, like Beck.

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